Hour Game (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 2)

At the “chickie” slur King automatically grabbed Michelle’s arm to hold her back from throttling the older woman. “Ms. Oxley,” he said. “Like I said, we’re here on Junior’s behalf. We’ve already been to see Remmy Battle.”

“Well, la-di-da,” said Priscilla Oxley, who finished this statement with a snort. “And how’s the queen today?”

“Do you know her?” asked King.

“I used to work at the Greenbrier Resort over in West Virginia. She and her family came there right regular.”

“And she was… demanding?” said King.

“She was a royal pain in my fat ass,” declared Priscilla. “And if Junior was dumb enough to steal from a witch like that, he deserves whatever he gets.”

Lulu pointed a finger at the woman. “Mother, we have things to discuss with these people.” She looked up at the front door of the trailer where Mary Margaret was listening and trembling in her distress. “Things the children don’t need to hear.”

“Don’t you worry about that, honey.” said Priscilla. “I’ll fill ’em in on all their daddy’s shortcomings. Only take me a couple of months.”

“Now, Mother, don’t be going and doing that,” said Junior as he studied his large feet. He was a good foot taller than Priscilla Oxley, though he didn’t outweigh her by all that much, and yet it was clear to both King and Michelle that the man was terrified of his mother-in-law.

“Don’t you call me Mother. All the things Lulu and me done for you, and this is how you repay us? Getting yourself in trouble, maybe going to the electric chair!”

On this, Mary Margaret’s sobs turned into earsplitting wails, and Lulu erupted into action.

“Excuse me,” she said politely but firmly to King and Michelle.

She marched up the steps, grabbed a fistful of her mother’s dress and pulled the larger woman into the trailer along with Mary Margaret. From behind the closed door they could hear muffled cries and angry voices, and then all became quiet. A few seconds after that, Lulu reemerged and closed the door behind her.

“Mama sometimes goes on when she’s been drinking. Sorry about that,” she said.

“She doesn’t like me much,” said Junior unnecessarily.

“Why don’t we sit over here?” said Lulu, pointing to an old picnic table on the right side of the trailer.

Once settled there, King filled them both in on the visit to the Battles’.

Lulu said, “The problem is that.” She pointed to the large shed behind the trailer. “I’ve told Junior a million times to put a door and lock on that thing.”

“Old story,” he said sheepishly. “Working on every-body else’s house, ain’t got time for my own.”

“But the point,” continued Lulu, “is that anybody can get in there.”

“Not with old Luther back there,” Junior said, nodding at the dog that had emerged once more from the shed and was barking happily at the sight of his owners.

“Luther!” said Lulu incredulously. “Sure he’ll bark, but he won’t bite, and he’ll roll over like a baby when somebody brings him food.” She turned to King and Michelle. “He has buddies coming over all the time to borrow tools. When we’re not here, they leave little notes and let us know when they’re gonna be bringing the things back, and sometimes they never do. And Luther sure as hell never stopped one of ’em.”

“They’ll leave a six-pack as a thank-you,” offered Junior quickly. “They’re good old boys.”

“They’re old boys all right, just don’t know how good they are,” said Lulu hotly. “One of them might’ve set you up.”

“Now, baby, ain’t none of them gonna do that to me.”

King cut in. “But all we have to show is reasonable doubt. If the jury thinks there’s an alternative out there, well, that’s good for you.”

“That’s right, Junior,” said his wife.

“But they’re my friends. I ain’t gonna get them in trouble. I know they ain’t done nothing to hurt me. Hell, there ain’t no way they coulda broke into the Battles’ place. And let me tell you, they ain’t gonna go up against Ms. Battle, that’s for damn sure. I ain’t got no college degree, but I’m smart enough not to take the woman’s damn wedding ring. Shit, like I need that grief?”

“You don’t have to do anything against your friends,” said King emphatically. “Just give us names and addresses, and we’ll check them out very discreetly. They probably all have ironclad alibis, and we can move on. But look, Junior, friends or not, unless we find other possible suspects, the evidence against you is pretty persuasive.”

“Listen to him, Junior,” said his wife. “You want to go back to jail?”