Don't Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes (20 page)

“It was about an hour ago,” she said brightly.

Then it hit him. He had been had. “I've got to be the world's biggest idiot. Uh, thank you, ma'am.” He started for the door, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at the judge's assistant. “Do me a favor, if you don't mind. Don't tell the judge I was here. I don't want him to know how dumb I am.”

He had been gone nearly an hour. He had to go by the station house and get the warrant. By the time he reached the Anson, closer to two hours would go by. God only knew what those three Texas women could get into in that amount of time.

He hailed a cab and made it to the police station in record time. Walking past the desk sergeant, he stopped and looked around. The reception room and the halls were usually filled with people, but no one was in sight. The eerie calm gave Matt a sense of foreboding. “Hey, Johnson. Where is everyone?”

The older cop peered over his half glasses. “They called all available units to the Anson Hotel. Some ditzy broad is out on a ledge, six floors up. Said she has a bomb in a trunk in one of the rooms. A trunk, no less.” He shook his head.

“Sonofabitch,” Matt growled. “Those damn women are going to be the death of me.”

D
ebbie Sue could see the crowd below. They didn't exactly look like ants, but they looked like toy people hurrying around. Police had set up barricades to prevent onlookers from getting too close to the hotel. She spotted several fire trucks as well as other huge vehicles with
NYPD BOMB DISPOSAL UNIT
stenciled large enough to be seen even from her high perch. Her plan had worked.

With so much activity, where was Matt McDermott? She had been forced to leave him a message after several failed attempts to reach him. Her message had been short but as concise and to the point as she could make it in the allowed time: “
Matt, this is Debbie Sue Overstreet. I'm standing on the ledge outside room six twenty. The green trunk is in the room. I've called the bomb squad. Either call me or rescue me.
”

If a message like that didn't prompt him to call, she didn't know what would.

Did she dare go back into the room? Had Rogenstein been evacuated or had he talked his way out of it? Retrieving her cell phone she pressed Edwina's number. When Edwina answered, Debbie Sue quizzed her. “Have you seen Rogenstink? What's going on?”

“My God, Debbie Sue, the bomb squad's here. They're evacuating the hotel.”

“I can't believe no one has tried to talk to me. I'm standing on the ledge, forgodsakes. They always try to talk to people on ledges.”

“Feeling a little neglected, are we?” Edwina asked. “Did you hear me? There's a bomb in the hotel. Do you think Rogenstein would plant a bomb?”

“No, Ed, it was me.”

“What?
You
planted a bomb?”

“No, dammit, I crawled out the window. I reported the bomb's in the trunk.”

“That fucker. He'll do anything to destroy evidence. Even blow up the trunk.”

“Fuck, Ed, you're making me want to jump. The trunk's not gonna blow up. I came out to escape Rogenstink.”

“Debbie Sue, what are we talking about?”

“Listen to me carefully, Ed. I called in a bomb report so the cops would come and the bomb squad would open the trunk.”

“Oohhh. Well, hell, Debbie Sue, I guess your plan worked. All of New York City is here.”

Just then a large pigeon landed on the toe of her boot and left a large deposit. “Oh, fuck, Ed!”

“What? What is it?” Edwina frantically asked.

“Oh, nooo. Dammit to hell. I've got pigeon poop on my best pair of boots and I don't even want to feel what's in my hair. Plus, I'm going to have lung disease from all the crap I'm breathing up here. I gotta hang up, Ed.”

 

Edwina began to hyperventilate even before she snapped the phone shut.
Jesus, Joseph and Mary!
How would she ever explain it to Buddy Overstreet if Debbie Sue got returned to Texas in a body bag? Or in a black-and-white-striped suit. She looked around the lobby for Celina. All hell was about to break loose and she wanted to be sure Celina was by her side.

“Edwina. Edwina, over here.”

Looking to her left, she saw Celina running toward her with a troubled expression on her face. “Edwina, Debbie Sue hung up on me. Where is she?” She skidded to a stop in front of Edwina. “The bomb squad's here. Where's Detective Rogenstein? Where's Matt?” Celina's eyes widened and her voice rose in panic. “Edwina, why isn't Debbie Sue with you? Answer something quick, because I almost can't get my breath. I can't just go on and on like this.”

“Come with me,” Edwina said, grabbing her hand and tugging her along behind her, pushing through the crowd gathering outside the hotel. “Just keep calm. That'll help me out, because I'm trying not to lose it.”

“Why? Oh, my gosh, what's happened?”

“We need to keep an eye on Debbie Sue and make sure she
gets back
inside
.” They squeezed through the crowd gathered on the sidewalk.

“Where is she?” Celina asked.

Edwina looked up, shielding her eyes with her hand. The sight of Debbie Sue six stories up, doing her West Texas version of Naomi Watts in
King Kong
made her want to throw up. “Up there.”

Celina followed her gaze and gave a whimper. “Oh, my goodness. There's a woman on the ledge.”

“Celina, you're gonna make a hell of a detective.”

“Oh, please, Edwina, tell me that isn't Debbie Sue.”

“I wish I could, hon, but I'd be lying.”

“Oh, my gracious goodness.” Celina slapped both hands over her face, peeking out between her fingers.

“I'd recognize that mop of hair anywhere,” Edwina added.

“Edwina. How can you act so calm? Aren't you scared?”

“Yep, I'm scared.” Edwina stared so hard at Debbie Sue, her eyes began to ache. “But I know Debbie Sue. She's gonna be all right. Yep, she's gonna be all right.”

“Your voice is shaking,” Celina said, staring, too. “You don't believe that.”

“Hon, I've got to. I've got to believe that ledge is plenty wide enough. Just like I've got to believe that Debbie Sue won't do anything stupid.”

“Edwina, she's moving. Look, she's moving.”

“Like I said, hon. Just keep believing that Debbie Sue won't do anything stupid.”

Celina stepped in front of Edwina, her mouth agape. “You
don't call it stupid to step out on a ledge six stories up, with a serial killer on the other side of the only open window?”

“Nope, not really,” Edwina said, looking past Celina's shoulder to keep her eye on her best friend. “Where Debbie Sue's concerned, I call it just another day.”

 

Debbie Sue finally succeeded in shaking the pigeon off the toe of her boot. “Go deliver a message somewhere,” she said as the bird hopped from her boot to the ledge.

Then, just to her left, she heard a male voice. “Hello.”

She looked in the voice's direction and saw the head and shoulders of a man protruding from the window.

“Miss? Miss, my name is Lawrence Jacobs. I'm from the New York City Police Department. Why don't you come inside and talk to me? I'd really like to hear your story.”

About damn time!
She would bet a dime to a doughnut that he was one of those suicide intervention guys. She looked at her rescuer. “Okay Larry, I'm coming in. You talked me into it.”

 

Detective Matt McDermott opened the door to the interrogation room and found it crowded with police and personnel from the fire department and the bomb squad. He entered just in time to hear Debbie Sue's closing sentence.

“I called nine-one-one and reported that a bomb was in the trunk because I knew he'd never be able to leave with it after that.”

Debbie Sue looked in his direction. Her face lit up with recognition. He could also see relief.

“Thank God. Matt, come and talk to Larry. Larry, go talk to Detective McDermott. He'll clear this whole thing up.”

The negotiator rose from his chair and walked over, motioning Matt out of the room. Once outside, he extended his hand. “Detective McDermott, we've met once before. I'm with Crisis Negotiations. I've been talking to Mrs. Overstreet for the better part of an hour. She's been telling quite a story. I'm torn between calling for a psych evaluation, taking her to Belleview personally or notifying the feds so they can transfer her to Guantanamo.”

Matt lowered his head to hide a grin. “Has she explained anything?”

“Not really. She keeps talking gibberish mostly. Keeps saying she's a detective and she's married to a Texas Ranger. Also something about a SEAL team coming to her rescue.”

“Well, believe it or not, she is married to a guy who's going to be a Texas Ranger if he isn't already. And she has a business partner who's married to a navy SEAL.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. Has she made any requests?”

“A couple. And she keeps repeating them over and over. She wants to talk to somebody named Edwina and somebody named Celina. I don't even know if those are real people, or if they're personalities she's carrying around in her already crowded head. And she wants an oily rag to get bird poop off her ostrich-quill cowboy boots. The bird poop is real enough. Saw it myself. But I wouldn't know an ostrich quill from a porcupine quill.”

This time Matt didn't grin. He laughed openly. “Celina
and Edwina are two doors down. Their story is the same as hers. And the oily rag's not a bad idea. I'd bet those are expensive boots.”

The negotiator looked at the detective with a surprised expression. “You mean she's telling the truth? All of it?”

“Yep, all of it.”

“Even the part about Detective Frank Rogenstein?”

“
Especially
the part about Rogenstein. When the bomb unit got the trunk open, the body of Special Agent Cheryl Angelo fell out. Rogenstein hadn't even bothered to try and hide the evidence. His fingerprints were everywhere. You'd think we would learn that nothing's impossible.”

“You'd think. But Frank Rogenstein? I just can't wrap my mind around that one. What's he got to say?”

“We haven't been able to locate him, but we will. We've put out an APB. Posted his photo at all train stations, airports, ferries and subways. We've got his apartment staked out and his bank is going to alert us of any ATM transactions. We're trying to track his cell phone. As well known as his face is, it won't take long.”

“Yeah, he's probably more recognizable than the mayor.”

“Yep.”

“So what do we do with these three women? Any charges going to be filed?”

“The guys upstairs are having a hard-enough time digesting Rogenstein being a serial killer and keeping the news from destroying the entire department. They don't need any more headaches. They want to release all three of them.”

“Okay, fine with me,” the negotiator said. “I'll tell this
one she's free to go.” He backed away to re-enter the interrogation room.

“Before you go back in there,” Matt said, “maybe we can find a rag with some oil on it for her boots. Maybe a wet cloth to get the bird poop out of her hair.”

The crisis negotiator frowned. “What kind of oil?”

“Damned if I know. I don't even own any cowboy boots. But it might be fun to have a pair.”

 

Matt stayed out of the reunion, leaning against the wall smiling. He was sure that a casual observer would think these three women hadn't seen each other in three decades instead of three hours and that they had been through some sort of ordeal and survived to talk about it. There was laughter, tears and hugging, then more of the same.

“I can't believe the risks you two have taken in the past twenty-four hours,” Celina said to Debbie Sue and Edwina. “Do you have to go to such drastic lengths in every case?”

“This one was a little more personal than most,” Debbie Sue replied, “but I think Ed will agree that when we sink our teeth into something we're not likely to turn loose without a fight.”

“That's right,” Edwina confirmed, “and I've got the ex-husbands to prove it.”

When the laughter subsided, Matt walked up to the trio. “Ladies, why don't I arrange to ride with you back to the hotel?”

“What about Rogenstink?” Debbie Sue asked. “Has he been arrested yet?”

“Not yet, but we're making it awfully hard for him to remain a fugitive.”

Celina's brow tented with concern. “But are we safe?” she asked him. “Debbie Sue and Edwina actually heard him murder that poor woman. As long as he's around—”

“I don't want any of you to worry about a thing.” Matt put his arm around Celina, pulled her closer and looked deeply into her eyes only. “I'm not leaving your side until you get on that plane Sunday morning. For the next thirty-six hours you belong to me. Think you can handle that?”

“I'm willing to try,” Celina said softly.

Debbie Sue cleared her throat. “Good, I feel better already. Let's get back to the hotel. I don't know about y'all, but I'm hungry and tired. And I'd love to take a shower.”

“Don't forget a shampoo, ‘Bird Poop Head,'” Edwina added. “Maybe with Lysol.”

Matt rode with them back to their hotel. The closer Celina's departure time inched, the more he dreaded the moment. In just a short time, he had become far too attached to her.

The ride was quiet except for Debbie Sue's and Edwina's oohs and aahs. They were seeing parts of New York City they hadn't seen before and taking it all in.

Once they reached the hotel, Debbie Sue was surprised to see all signs of the morning's excitement gone. The emergency vehicles had departed and the barricades had been removed. Life moved on.
As it always does
, she thought. If anyone knew that life moved on after a traumatic event, she did. After all, hadn't she and Buddy buried a child? What could be more traumatic than that?

Detective McDermott reached for Celina's hand as the four of them entered the hotel.

“Let's get a new room for you ladies,” he said. “I'll get one nearby.”

Celina whispered something to him and giggled. Debbie Sue looked at Edwina and winked. The likelihood of Celina sharing their new room was remote, and Debbie Sue both envied her and worried about her. She had a sudden overpowering desire to see Buddy.

As Buddy flashed in her thoughts, she contemplated how she would tell him about all that had happened. She wouldn't keep it from him, even the part about the ledge. They kept no secrets and never lied to each other. But she worried if he would sit still for her to maintain the career she had come to love when he learned of her latest escapade. He still yelled occasionally about the mess she and Edwina got into in Haskell. She knew Buddy Overstreet's stubborn streak and she remembered what had happened when he demanded that she give up rodeoing.

Her thoughts were sidetracked as in their approach to the front desk they were suddenly surrounded by reporters and photographers, all shouting questions and taking pictures.