Moen stepped into the doorway. “Sheriff, you want me to—”
Bertha cut him off. “I saw him from the back while he was getting the hell out of there. He’s white. Or at least not African-American. Dark brown hair. I think he’s tall, but I’m five one and seven-eighths and I’m no judge of men when they’re vertical.”
Horror painted Moen’s freckled face, and he ducked away.
Bertha glanced toward the suddenly empty doorway. “Poor kid. I probably scarred him for life.”
“He’ll survive.” Kateri wished Bergen hadn’t raised the specter, but now she had to ask, “Was the attacker John Terrance?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t know John Terrance from a hole in the ground.” Bertha’s sharp blue eyes snapped with fury. “’Bout thirty years ago, that smartass swaggering woman-hating hood came into the Gem Lounge selling his filthy drugs. When I told him to get the hell out, he said, ‘What are you going to do about it, old lady?’”
Kateri leaned her head against the back of her chair. She was going to enjoy this.
Bertha continued, “I came around the bar. He stood up. I grabbed him by the nuts, lifted him up on his tiptoes and walked him backward out the door and onto the sidewalk. Told him to never return.”
Torn between amusement, admiration and horror, Kateri asked, “Did he return?”
“Of course he did. That night with a pistol. I pulled my sawed-off shotgun out from underneath the bar, pointed it at him and asked who he thought he was going to harm with that little popgun. Haven’t seen him since.” Bertha examined her fingernails and smiled. “I did hear he had to fight a lot of men before they stopped laughing in his face.” Her smile faded. “He ambushed them, usually. Nasty punk.”
“He’s gotten nastier.”
“I know, dear. I am so sorry about Rainbow. I recall when she was young. I recall when she delivered you. I recall your mother.”
Of course she did. Kateri remembered going into the Gem Lounge to fetch her mother after those long bouts of drinking that rendered Mary limp, jolly or sometimes … violent.
“Mary deserved better than your father, but damn, she raised you good. She would be proud.”
Kateri blinked away tears. Yes. For all the problems she had experienced with her mother, she had never doubted Mary loved her. Kateri had never stopped working for her mother’s approval. She had always believed that somehow, somewhere Mary knew what Kateri had accomplished … She really needed to get home before she dissolved into a puddle of damp emotion. “Thank you, Bertha. I’m glad you think that.” She leaned forward, put her elbows on the desk and fixed her gaze on Bertha’s face. “Listen—John Terrance is a lot more dangerous now than he was thirty years ago, or even last week. He’s out to settle some scores and he’s already proven he can get into town for a shooting. So why not come in and slash a woman’s throat?”
“Why not try to shoot you again?”
“Why not make women afraid to come to your bar and destroy your business? And at the same time make me look incompetent as sheriff?”
Bertha nodded, but doubtfully. “He would have had to think awfully fast and be sort of subtle, and I never heard he was any too bright.”
“He’s not intelligent, but he’s got an underhanded way of figuring things out.”
“Like a weasel with rabies?”
“Yes. I don’t know whether to hope it’s John Terrance and when we’ve got him we’ve got the slasher, or to hope we’ve got two criminals and both are fools.” Kateri rubbed her forehead.
“If Monique has never seen the slasher before, then he’s not a local because she’s known every man in town, most of them in the biblical sense. So maybe after screwing up his little crime, he’ll move on.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears. But I’m afraid, after your story about getting a grip on John Terrance’s testicles…”
“Not much there, and I grabbed ’em hard enough to know.”
“One of the scores he wants to settle is yours. Men don’t forget stuff like that. You’ll be careful?”
“You bet. A few years ago, I installed a good security system at the Lounge. I live over the bar. So he’s going to have to catch me out in the open to work me over.” Bertha pulled back her bulky cardigan to reveal a holster and pistol. “I’ve got a concealed carry permit.”
“Of course you do.”
“If I see that worthless piece of shit, I’ll shoot first and ask questions afterward.”
Kateri should give her standard speech: Call law enforcement and do not try to apprehend. She decided against it. After all, Bertha wasn’t going to try and apprehend him. She intended to kill him.
Bertha continued, “As for Monique’s slasher, I’d recognize him from the back.”
“For the love of God, don’t shoot him until we prove—”
Bertha stood up. “I’m old and cranky, but I’m not stupid. Got any other questions about the slashing, Sheriff Kwinault?”
“That about does it. Thank you for coming in. If you remember any other details, please call and one of my officers will be by to take your statement.”
Bertha pointed her finger at Kateri. “You come. Come by for a drink.”
“I don’t—”
“I know.” Bertha waggled that finger. “You don’t drink alcohol. Come by for a Coke and some corn nuts. When you were a kid, you always liked corn nuts. It would do my barflies good to know the sheriff was interested in their welfare.”
When Bertha was right, she was right. Kateri painfully pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”
Bertha winked and headed out the door.
Moen eased into Kateri’s office. “Bergen sent me in to take you home.”
“Great. I’ve got a pain pill calling my name.” Kateri got her walking stick.
Moen looked distressed. “You don’t suppose Mrs. Waldschmidt meant she likes men to be horizontal? As in…”
“As in sex?” Kateri grinned as she wound her way through the patrol room. “What do you think?”
“I don’t want to think. She’s got to be six hundred years old!”
Dumbass kid. “You know Bertha’s been married five times? To a couple husbands I never met, to the same guy twice, to one guy who was half her age … I heard she wore the poor guy out.”
Moen plugged his ears.
Kateri laughed uncontrollably. Maybe the pain shot Dr. Frownfelter had given her had taken effect at last. She laughed again when they stopped to pick up her dog, Lacey, from Mrs. Golobovitch the dog-sitter. Lacey danced with such joy her long, cocker spaniel ears flapped adorably and Kateri leaned down to pet her soft, blond head.
When Moen stopped at her apartment, Kateri opened the car door.
Lacey leaped out, put her nose to the ground and started sniffing.
Kateri followed much more slowly.
“Want some help, Sheriff?” Moen asked.
“I can make it.” Because in Virtue Falls, you could always figure someone was peeking out the window and Kateri needed to give the impression of health. She climbed the stairs and got out her key.