Crazy Wanda Read online

  Even though she was often late, Barry didn’t fire her, because she was good at her job—when she was there—so on balance she was good for the bar. With her naturally friendly nature and bubbly personality, she got men to stick around and buy drinks they didn’t know they wanted.

  “Anyway,” Barry said, “she asked me to please come bail her out.”

  “Why you? Let her parents bail her out.”

  “That’s what I told her. She says they won’t answer their phone.”

  Angela nodded knowingly. “Caller ID.”

  Barry frowned up at her from putting bottles in the cooler. “What?”

  “They probably saw on their caller ID that it was a number from the jail and they didn’t want to bail her out again.”

  Barry sighed as he went back to loading more bottles into the cooler. “That makes sense.”

  Angela didn’t know anyone who got hauled to jail as often as Wanda did, and it was never for anything serious. It was always some trivial issue she managed to blow up into a fracas.

  One time she got pulled over for running a stop sign. She argued with the cop and angrily refused to sign the ticket. She became increasingly belligerent until she had to be restrained. She spent the night in jail until she saw the judge in the morning. He dropped the charges in return for her paying a big fine for the ticket.

  As a result of missing work while sitting in jail, she got behind in her bills. Bill collectors started harassing her, which set her off in fits of anger when she stormed into work.

  “It’s your own damn fault,” Angela had told her when she was complaining about all her troubles.

  “It’s not my fault!” Wanda protested.

  Angela quietly reminded her that had she simply signed the ticket, she would have paid a less expensive fine and not missed work and then she wouldn’t have gotten behind in her bills and bill collectors wouldn’t be after her. It was so inarguable, and put to her in such a calm manner, that it had stopped Wanda’s fit cold. After a moment of grumbling, Wanda had finally said, “I suppose you’re right.”

  Angela somehow ended up being the one person in Wanda’s life she would listen to. Angela assumed it was because she didn’t really care if Wanda listened to her or not, while everyone else did and they almost always shouted at her, argued with her, or lectured her. While most people could set her off with one wrong word, Angela’s dispassionate advice had the opposite effect on her.

  Over time Wanda came to consider Angela a trusted friend. As far as Angela could tell, her only friend. Wanda would confide things to Angela that she would confide to no one else. Angela wasn’t trying to befriend Wanda or win her over, she was simply treating her the way she treated everyone.

  Although Wanda considered her a trusted friend, Angela most certainly didn’t feel the same about Wanda. Angela didn’t have friends and didn’t want any.

  She did feel a bit sorry for her, though. She was a scatterbrain without common sense who acted before she thought.

  Wanda had big breasts and a big mouth to match. She also had an open, friendly nature that made her the life of any party. The male customers loved her flirty personality, as well as her big breasts. The women, not so much. Especially when she put an easygoing hand on their men. Wanda was only too happy to be the center of attention. That was why Barry put up with Wanda’s troublesome side.

  “I really can’t leave the bar while we’re open,” Barry said. “I wish Wanda wouldn’t pull this crap.”

  “You want me to go spring her?” she asked.

  Angela always did her best to avoid authorities. Unlike Wanda, she didn’t like to give the police any reason to take notice of her or remember her. But Barry was a good guy who had given her a chance with a good paying job and she felt bad that Wanda was dragging him into it.

  “And be down the both of you?” He shook his head. “Besides, those legs of yours sell a lot more drinks than a pudgy guy in khaki pants.”

  Angela had to smile. “I suppose so. Why not let her stew until after closing?”

  “That makes sense.” He thought about it briefly. “But after closing I need to take care of that damn tap coupling, the receipts, stocking up, and then I need to tally everything.”

  “Why don’t I go bail her out after closing?”

  Barry considered momentarily. “Tomorrow is Saturday. It’s going to be a busy night. Lots of men will be coming in tomorrow night and I really need her here.” He gave Angela a sideways look. “If you wouldn’t mind …”

  “That’s my other job, remember? I pick up packages.” Angela smiled. “You get things ready for tomorrow and I’ll go get the crazy lady.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Angela found a parking spot on the street around the corner from the entrance to the police station. She hadn’t wanted to walk into the station wearing the cutoff shorts she wore at work in the bar. Fortunately, she had a pair of jeans in her truck and was able to change first. Since it was spitting rain and threatening to turn into a downpour, she put on a lightweight, hooded, waterproof jacket that she always kept in her pickup.

  The hood of the black jacket covered her red-tipped, platinum-blond hair. Like her cutoff shorts, her hair drew attention, which was all well and good in the bar, or out in public, or when luring in a killer, but not so desirable in a police station. With the jacket zipped all the way up, it also covered the big tattoo across her throat, which she would rather not show off in a police station because it was something people remembered.

  With her hood up against the rain and the drawstring pulled tight, she looked reasonably unremarkable among the people in the station. Barry had already found out that Wanda had been arraigned on trespassing charges earlier in the day and was being held awaiting bail. At the arraignment her bond had been set at a thousand dollars, but only ten percent cash was required.

  The police station was relatively busy, even in the middle of the night, or more likely, Angela realized, because it was the middle of the night. As she knew all too well from working in a bar, darkness seemed to bring trouble out of the woodwork.

  Angela found the bond window, paid the bail, and signed some papers. While she was there she asked to read the charges. The policewoman behind the counter pulled a sheet out and handed it to Angela. When she finished reading it, she thanked the woman and handed it back.

  The benches were already packed, so she leaned against the wall as she waited. As she waited, she appraised the eyes of people, especially men, making sure she was not in the presence of someone seriously dangerous.

  It was a half hour before a female officer came out from a hallway with Wanda in tow. The policewoman took her to a counter where she was given back her big handbag and the contents for her to check.

  As Angela watched Wanda put her loop earrings back on, she realized that while she thought of Wanda as one seriously screwed-up woman, she was actually quite striking. She was the kind of woman that men seemed to fall in love with far too quickly.

  Her head was shaved partway up on each side, leaving her thick, black hair to stand up on top and tumble down her broad shoulders in back. Sometimes she put it into a single, fat braid. Angela wouldn’t want that style of hair, but it worked well with the package that was Wanda.

  She was wearing a pink tank top that had difficulty containing her breasts, a black miniskirt, and red strap heels. Apparently, she had been ready to go in to work at the bar when she had been arrested and taken to jail. Her figure was actually quite shapely, even if her outfit was over-the-top. Over-the-top worked just fine in her job at Barry’s Place and made her good tips.

  Wanda, jamming her things back into the big, gray leather handbag, looked like bottled fury as Angela stepped up to the counter beside her. “Thanks for coming,” Wanda grumbled with a quick sideways glance. “I didn’t want to bother you. I asked Barry to come. Why didn’t he come?” It was more an angry indictment than a question.

  “Yeah, well, Barry was pretty busy trying to fix a broken tap an
d getting everything else ready for a busy Saturday night, so I offered to come get you.”

  She nodded to Angela as she cast a glare back at the disinterested police behind the counter. “Let’s get out of this dump.”

  “I’m parked just around the corner,” Angela said as they walked out into the light rain.

  Wanda folded her arms against the wet night chill and put her head down against the steady, light rain. She hurried as best she could in high heels.

  Angela unlocked her truck and let Wanda in first to get her out of the rain, then took off the jacket and slipped in behind the wheel. Once the truck was started she turned on the heater.

  “I left my car in the alley behind Brad’s place. I was getting my stuff when he came home and called the cops.” She looked over. “Want to stop somewhere and get a drink? I could use a good stiff drink. I know a place—”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. It’s been a long day. I’ll take you to get your car, then we both need to get home and get a good night’s sleep.” Angela glanced over as Wanda looked out the side window into the dark night. “Tomorrow night is going to be busy.”

  Wanda turned back. “Was it busy tonight?”

  “As a matter of fact, it was. Without you there to help I feel like I ran a marathon.”

  Wanda stared out again at the lights flashing past in the rain. Her bluster was already fading. “Sorry to leave you hanging.”

  “Ricky Sparling asked about you. I told him that I would pass the message along to you.”

  Wanda suddenly looked concerned. “You didn’t tell him I was in jail, did you?”

  “It was before you called Barry. I told him all I knew, that you were late, and I didn’t know where you were.”

  Wanda let out a sigh of relief. She fished her phone out of her handbag and checked her messages, then started writing a text. Angela looked out of the corner of her eye and could see that it was to Ricky. It said something about making it up to him.

  Ricky wasn’t the sharpest axe in the woods, but he worked hard and made good money. He also had the kind of weak-willed personality that needed a strong woman to give him directions. Wanda was just that sort of woman and more.

  After she sent the text she put the phone away and turned to Angela. “Say, would you mind if I spent the night at your place?”

  Angela nearly drove off the road. She quickly pulled herself together. “You need to go home to your own place.”

  “Well, I gave up my apartment to live with Brad. Since he kicked me out so he could screw around with some whore, my place at the moment is back home with my God-fearing parents. If I go there I’ll have to listen to another lecture about God’s plan for me and how I’m disrespecting him. They’re such jerks.”

  Wanda was gasoline. Her parents seemed to be a lit match.

  She smoothed her skirt on her lap. “So, what do you say? Can I crash with you?”

  Angela thought that being simple and straightforward would be best. “Sorry, no.”

  Wanda frowned. “Why not?”

  “First of all, nothing personal, but I never let anyone stay at my house. I work long, hard hours. It’s my sanctuary away from everything and everyone and I want it to stay that way. Secondly, I have no intention of making the situation more comfortable for you just because you screwed up.”

  Wanda looked out the side window again. “Yeah, I guess I did kind of screw things up.”

  “You have keys to your mom and dad’s house, right?”

  Wanda nodded.

  “And you still have your room there, right?”

  “Yeah. They keep it for me. I think they’re hoping I’ll somehow magically turn back to being fourteen so they can have a do-over with raising me.”

  “So, listen to me. I want you to go home, quietly let yourself in, leave a note on their coffeemaker saying you’re asleep in your room and to let you sleep in because you got in late and you have to work Saturday night. Draw a heart on it, or something. Can you do that?”

  “I suppose,” she mumbled. “But it wasn’t my fault—”

  “So your ex-boyfriend broke his own window and called the cops and made up a story that it was you?” Angela wasn’t going to let her shift the blame for her situation.

  “Well, no. But if he wouldn’t have—”

  “When I paid the bond, I read Brad’s statement in the complaint to the police.”

  “Yeah, well Brad is a lying asshole.” Wanda thought about that a moment and then was overcome with a curious frown. “Where do you live, anyway? I never have heard where you live.”

  Angela never let anyone know where she lived. She greatly valued her privacy—and other things about her place in the woods. Her mail even went to Mike’s Mail Service.

  “I live alone out in the country in a place my grandfather built.”

  “Doesn’t that get kind of lonely?”

  “No. I don’t get lonely. I guess I’m strange that way.” Angela knew Wanda was trying to change the subject of her guilt. She didn’t let her. “So did you steal Brad’s gun?”

  Wanda looked over in surprise. “What?”

  “Brad said in his statement to the police that you stole his gun.”

  “Brad’s an asshole. I told you that.”

  “Did you steal his gun?”

  Wanda huffed. “Brad’s got this big three-fifty-seven Magnum revolver. He likes to show it off because he thinks it makes his dick bigger.”

  “Did you steal it?”

  “What would I want with a gun? He changed the locks and wouldn’t meet me there to get my stuff, so before I came in to work I broke a little window and went in to get my clothes. Big deal; it’s just ten dollars’ worth of glass to fix the window. He’s just trying to cause trouble for me because I caught him cheating.”

  “Did you steal his gun?”

  “He held me against my will for the police.” She leaned over indignantly. “That’s kidnapping! He threatened me. He said if I tried to leave he’d hurt me. Brad has a nasty temper. He’s smacked me around a few times, so I knew he wasn’t bluffing.

  “Then these hard-ass cops showed up. After they cuffed me and patted me down real good, if you know what I mean, they put me in the back of their police car while they searched my car looking for the gun Brad told them I stole.

  “The only thing in my car was my clothes that I took out of Brad’s place. They didn’t find any gun or anything else of his. That’s why they couldn’t charge me with theft of a weapon. Brad’s an asshole and he was just trying to cause me trouble.”

  “You’re lucky the charge was only trespassing.”

  “The police only took me to jail because Brad insisted on pressing charges, and trespassing was all they could come up with. I didn’t take anything other than my own clothes, so they couldn’t charge me with theft. If the cops wouldn’t have been such pricks they would have just let me go and told me to stay away from Brad’s place or they would arrest me if I came back. That’s what they should have done. But they didn’t. They wanted me in the back of their car with my hands cuffed behind my back, so they could watch me in the backseat and try to look up my skirt.” She stared ahead. “Perverts.”

  Angela drove in silence, wondering if there was a grain of truth in Wanda’s story. She knew from personal experience that there were police who could be real jerks. There were times when they came to her mother’s trailer when they had been more than jerks. That’s why she didn’t like having anything to do with them. She gritted her teeth at her own memories of encounters with police on a power trip.

  Wanda used her fingers to fluff her wet hair. “Did Ricky say he thinks I’m hot?”

  Angela came back from her unpleasant memories and frowned over at Wanda. “What is this, study hall in high school?”

  Wanda shrugged. “I think I’m falling in love with him.” She frowned as a sudden thought came to her. She leaned a little toward Angela. “Ricky Sparling is mine. Don’t you dare wrap those long legs of yours around him.”<
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  Angela kept her gaze out at the rainy road. “Ricky Sparling is married.”

  “I know that. But his wife is a bitch. She cheats on him.”

  “Isn’t that what he’s doing with you?”

  “Yeah, but that’s because the bitch won’t give him a divorce because she wants his money, so he’s going to have to divorce her instead. But first he needs to hire a private detective to follow her around and get proof of all her extramarital affairs so he has grounds for the divorce. I can’t imagine why any woman would do that to him. I’d never cheat on him. He’d be all I ever wanted.”

  Angela was tired. She knew Wanda’s fuse was already lit, so she kept her thoughts to herself as she drove to Brad’s run-down little house in a run-down part of town. Even this late, and even in the rain, there were people out on the street or huddled against buildings. From a lifetime of experience, she could easily spot half a dozen drug deals going down.

  She always carried a gun, if not on her, then in the center armrest, so she wasn’t worried, but this wasn’t a neighborhood where women should be alone. She drove into the alley behind Brad’s house and stopped behind Wanda’s faded red hatchback.

  “Go home and get some sleep,” she told Wanda. “I need you there tomorrow night. If you don’t pull it together Barry is going to finally get fed up and fire you.”

  Wanda nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be there. Thanks for coming and getting me, Angela.”

  Halfway out of the truck, she stopped and turned back. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You’re just full of questions tonight.”

  Wanda grinned. “I’m a curious girl. What does that big tattoo across your throat mean? ‘Dark Angel.’ What’s it mean?”

  “Your parents taught you to pray, didn’t they?”

  “Are you kidding? I spent half my childhood on my knees praying.”

  “Then pray that you never have a reason to learn what it means. Good night, Wanda.”

  Wanda wasn’t sure what Angela meant. “All right. Good night. And thanks again for bailing me out. You’re a doll.”