Dangerous Women

Heath shook his head in astonishment. Then he asked, “But you never had any run-ins with the law?”

She laughed. “Actually, yeah-I got busted once for shoplifting.”

Heath nodded. “I copped a pack of cigarettes when I was fourteen. I can still feel my daddy’s belt on my butt for that one.”

“No, no,” Beth A

“You what?”

“She took me to the store as cover. You know, a mother and daughter wouldn’t be as suspicious as a woman by herself. I saw her pocket some watches and a necklace. When we got home I put the merch in a bag and took it back to the store. The guard saw me looking guilty, I guess, and he nailed me before I could replace anything. I took the rap. I mean, I wasn’t going to drop a dime on my parents, was I?… My mother was so mad… They honestly couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps.”

“You need some time with Dr. Phil or somebody.”

“Been there. Still am.”

She nodded as memories came back to her. “From, like, twelve or thirteen on, I tried to stay as far away from home as I could. I did every after-school activity I could. Volunteered at a hospital on weekends. My friends really helped me out. They were the best… I probably picked them because they were one-eighty from my parents’ criminal crowd. I’d hang with the National Merit scholars, the debate team, Latin club. Anybody who was decent and normal. I wasn’t a great student but I spent so much time at the library or studying at friends’ houses I got a full scholarship and put myself through college.”

“Where’d you go?”

“ A

“And you’ve got your gold shield. You made detective fast.” Heath looked over the house. “She lived here by herself? Where’s your father?”

“Dead,” Beth A

“What?”

“Wait’ll you read the extradition order from Michigan. Nobody knew it at the time, of course. The original coroner’s report was an accident. But a few months ago this guy in prison in Michigan confessed that he’d helped her. Mother found out my father was skimming money from their operation and sharing it with some girlfriend. She hired this guy to kill him and make it look like an accidental drowning.”

“I’m sorry, Detective.”

Beth A

“Your mother ever remarry?”

“She took up with Selbit a few years ago but she never married him. You collared him yet?”

“No. He’s around here somewhere but he’s gone to ground.”

Beth A

“Good idea, Detective. I’ll get a warrant tonight.”

Beth A

“You have a family?” Heath asked.

“My husband’s a sergeant in Juvenile.” Then Beth A

“Hey, very cool.”

“I’m on the job until June. Then I’m taking an LOA for a couple of years to be a mom.” She felt an urge to add, “Because children come first before anything.” But, under the circumstances, she didn’t think she needed to elaborate.

“Crime Scene’s going to seal the place,” Heath said. “But if you want to take a look around, that’d be okay. Maybe there’s some pictures or something you want. Nobody’d care if you took some personal effects.”

Beth A

“Got it.”

She zipped up her windbreaker, pulled the hood up. Another hollow laugh.

Heath lifted an eyebrow.

“You know my earliest memory?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“In the kitchen of my parents’ first house outside of Detroit. I was sitting at the table. I must’ve been three. My mother was singing to me.”

“Singing? Just like a real mother.”

Beth A

“What was she doing, sewing?” Heath nodded toward the room containing a sewing machine and racks of stolen dresses.

“Nope,” the woman answered. “She was reloading ammunition.”

“You serious?”

A nod. “I figured out when I was older what she was doing. My folks didn’t have much money then and they’d buy empty brass cartridges at gun shows and reload them. All I remember is the bullets were shiny and I wanted to play with them. She said if I didn’t touch them she’d sing to me.”

This story brought the conversation to a halt. The two officers listened to the rain falling on the roof.

Born bad…

“All right,” Beth A

Heath walked her outside and they said their good-byes. Beth A

Suddenly, from somewhere in the folds of her memory, a melody came into her head. She hummed a few bars out loud but couldn’t place the tune. It left her vaguely unsettled. So Beth A

Otto Penzler

OTTO PENZLER owns the Mysterious Bookshop in New York City and founded the Mysterious Press and Otto Penzler Books. He has written and edited several books, including the Edgar® Award-wi