‘Chief Hammer?’ he stammered. ‘I, uh…’ He swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t mean…’
She held up a hand to silence him.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she told him.
‘How can I not!’ he cried. ‘And all I wanted to do was help!’
‘Help who?’
She seemed interested and sincere. Bubba hadn’t realized she was so attractive, not in a pretty way, but strong and striking in her pinstripe pants suit. He wondered if she had a gun. Maybe she carried one in her black handbag. His thoughts moiled crazily as the wind shifted to Hammer’s disadvantage. She moved several feet to her right.
‘Who is it you’re trying to help?’ she asked. ‘The woman who just got murdered? Did you see something, Mr. Fluck?’
‘Oh my God!’ Bubba was shocked. ‘A lady was just murdered, right here! When?’
‘While you were parked here, Mr. Fluck.’
Bubba’s bowels were irritably gathering again, like dark clouds about to release another lashing, violent storm. He thought of his sweaty tee shirt, covered with blood and on its way to the police labs.
‘You sure you didn’t see anything?’ The chief continued to press.
‘My Anaconda was hung,’ he answered.
She just stared at him.
‘I couldn’t get it off,’ he said.
Still, she said nothing.
‘So I got down and started tugging on it, you know, manipulating it as best I could. See, I was afraid it might go off. Then I got a nosebleed.’
‘This was when?’ Hammer asked.
‘I guess when the lady got killed. I swear. I was on the floor ever since Officer Budget left me. That’s all I was doing until he was knocking on my window. I couldn’t have seen anything, because I was on the floor, is what I’m saying, ma’am.’
He couldn’t tell if she believed him. There was nothing cruel or disrespectful about her demeanor, but she was shrewd and very smart. Bubba was in awe of her. For a moment he forgot his plight until Channel 8’s cameraman trotted toward them, heading straight for the chief, then getting a disgusted look on his face. He stared at Bubba’s camouflage pants and changed course.
‘It appears the victim was robbed right here at the money stop,’ Hammer spoke to Bubba. ‘I’m not telling you anything confidential. I’m sure you’ll be hearing all about it on the news. You were parked less than fifty feet from the money stop, Mr. Fluck. Are you absolutely certain you didn’t hear anything? Maybe voices, arguing, a car or cars?’
Bubba thought hard. Channel 6 headed toward them and quickly went the other way. Bubba would have done anything to help this brave woman, and it broke his heart that the one time he had a chance, he could do nothing but stink.
‘Shit,’ muttered a WRVA reporter as he stopped and backed up. ‘Wouldn’t go over there if I was you,’ he said to a crew from Channel 12.
‘What’s going on?’ Style Magazine called out to Richmond Magazine. ‘A sewer line break?’
‘Hell if I know. Shit, man.’
Bubba went on red alert.
‘”Shit man” is right.’ A Times-Dispatch reporter waved his hand in front of his face.
Bubba’s blood heated up. He didn’t hear a word Chief Hammer was saying to him. Bubba was completely focused on the knot of reporters, cameramen, photographers and technicians gathered by his Jeep. They were restless and angry, talking and bitching loudly amongst themselves and calling him Shit Man.
‘Anybody seen what’s going on back there behind the building?’
‘They won’t let anybody close.’
‘You can forget it. The minute you get to the garden center, the cops push you back.’
‘Yeah, one asshole put his hand over my lens.’
‘Shit, man.’
Bubba’s mind whited out the way it always did when he heard the voices and the laughter shrieking from dangerous, painful convolutions in his brain. He saw a legion of little faces distorted by taunts and cruel grins.
‘My editor’s gonna kill me. Shit, man!’
‘Stop It!’ Bubba screamed at the press.
His eyes suddenly focused. Hammer was staring at him, rather startled. The media wasn’t interested.
‘Maybe the body’s decomposing,’ one of them was saying.
‘It’s back behind the store.’