Turning the patrol car down the dirt driveway, I pull up to the Blair house. Mrs. Betsy Blair is sitting on her porch in a rocking chair just like yesterday when she called in an emergency. With all the commotion going on at Juno’s new store, I didn’t stop and think about the fact that we were called all the way out here for nothing. I was just thankful that the guys from the neighboring town were there to help me with protecting Juno.
I get out of the car and put on my hat before I walk up the steps. “Good morning, Mrs. Blair.”
“Hello, Sheriff. What brings you to this side of town?” Betsy doesn’t get up, but one of her aged hands grips the cross around her neck.
“I’ve got a couple of questions for you, if you don’t mind.” I pull out my little notepad and pen that I bring with me at every call. “We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday, so can you tell me why you called us out here?” I wait, and she smiles as she waves a hand dismissively.
“Oh, I’ve already forgotten. You know how it is at my age.”
“I thought you might say that.” When I say the words, her eyes sharpen. “Is your son Eugene around? I’d like to speak with him.”
“No.” Her one-word answer is final.
“I thought you might say that too.” I take out the piece of paper from my notepad and open it up for her. “Would you mind explaining to me why his fingerprints were found at a crime scene in town yesterday at the exact time you called us to the farthest part of our patrol area?”
She glances down at the paper, but when she looks up, her eyes won’t meet mine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come on out, Eugene. I can see your boots behind the front door,” I call out, and there’s a long pause before the old wooden door creaks.
I wait, and her son, who is older than me, quietly creeps out and moves to stand behind her rocking chair. She puts a protective hand in front of him like this almost ninety-year-old woman is going to somehow keep him from the law.
“I’d like you to get off my property,” Betsy says and squares her shoulders.
“Mrs. Blair—” I check my watch and shake my head. “If I have to call Judge Banks for a warrant it will pull him off the golf course, and you and I both know that won’t end well.”
She huffs her irritation and presses her lips together before she turns her glare on me. “That girl is nothing but trouble.”
“Mama,” Eugene begins, but she waves him off.
“As soon as she moved to town things started to change. Young ladies shouldn’t have hair that color. It’s unnatural.”
I’m trying with every inch of my body not to lose my cool, but I need to do this right if I’m going to get to the bottom of it. “You’re talking about Juno Folke?” I ask politely but scribble in my notebook that Betsy Blair is an old cunt.
“Of course I am.” She waves a hand like Juno is right in front of her. “It’s indecent, the length of her shorts, and how she flirts with all the good men in town. Like yourself, Sheriff. I’ve seen the way she tries to tempt you.”
“Mama,” Eugene tries to interject, but Mrs. Blair isn’t having it.
“Oh shut up,” she snaps and tries to hit him, but he easily dodges her slow smack. “If you would have worn gloves like I told you none of this would have happened.”
“So it was you that put Eugene up to this?” I look between them, and Eugene shakes his head as Mrs. Blair rolls her eyes.
“You think my boy could come up with his own ideas?” she scoffs. “Now she’ll never make good on her promise.” Betsy Blair turns to her son, and the look of disappointment is almost painful. “I had one chance to marry you off, and look what you did. You’re a fool and don’t deserve her anyway.”
“Mrs. Blair,” I say to get her attention and wait until she looks at me. “Who is it that put you up to vandalizing Miss Folke’s place of business?”
“Well, Paula Peterson, of course.” She says it like I’m an idiot, and right now I might be.
I grab my radio and call for backup from Terrance as I pull out my handcuffs. “Eugene, I’m gonna need you to step aside. I need to secure you and your mom.”
“Okay,” he says softly, resigned to his fate. I can’t imagine what it was like growing up with a mother like Betsy Blair, but if he’s choosing jail time over her, things must be awful.
After I cuff Eugene to a chair on the porch, I walk over to Betsy. “You’re really going to cuff an old lady like me?” She looks pissed, but I don’t give a shit.