High Noon

misogynistic asshole. It’s in those files. He’s in there, somewhere. I need to contact Duncan, make sure he’s covered. Then, goddamn son of a bitch, we’re going to find this bastard.”
    Sykes watched her stride back to the car, punching viciously at her phone. It was tough not to appreciate a redheaded woman in full temper, he thought, so he only said, “Yes, ma’am.” And followed her.
     
    Duncan walked into Ma Bee’s house without knocking. He’d never had to knock on that particular door. He called out for her, but since neither the TV nor the radio was on, he kept going through the house.
    If she was inside, she’d have what she called her company on. She wasn’t much for silence. He moved through the house as casually as he would his own, and spotted her out the kitchen window.
    She knelt in front of one of her flower beds, a big straw hat with a band of wildly colored flowers on her head and neon-pink gardening gloves on her wide and generous hands.
    Love was a quick, warm spurt right through the heart.
    She’d given him a mother when he’d already been a man, a family he’d never hoped to be a part of, and a home he’d never found anywhere else.
    He knew there’d be a pitcher of tea in the refrigerator, and cookies in the grinning-cow cookie jar. He got out a couple of glasses, filled them with ice, a plate for the cookies. He carted everything out to the little table shaded by a red umbrella before crossing the yard to her.
    She sang in her tumbled gravel voice. He recognized “The Dock of the Bay” and, spying the MP3 player clipped to her shirt, figured she was dueting with Otis.
    He started to reach down, touch her shoulder, hoping not to startle her. Then he jumped when she spoke.
    “Boy, why aren’t you working at something?”
    “Didn’t think you heard me.”
    “Didn’t.” She switched off the music as he squatted down. “But you still cast a shadow.” She gave him what he thought of as the hairy eyeball. “You a man of leisure today, Duncan?”
    “I had a meeting on the warehouse project this morning, and I’ve got some things going on later. But if a man can’t take a little time out of the day to flirt with the love of his life, what’s living for?”
    She flashed him a grin, gave him a poke. “Fancy talk. Well, flirt while you yank some of these cursed weeds.”
    The hat might have shaded her face, but there were beads of sweat along her temples. Enough gardening in this heat for now, Duncan thought. “I’ll weed for you after we flirt over a couple glasses of tea and some cookies.”
    Lips pursed, she looked over in the direction of the table. “That looks appealing. Help me up, then.”
    When they were settled at the table, Ma’s pink gloves tucked into her gardening apron, she took a long drink of tea. “Close today,” she commented. “Going to be heavy by afternoon. Hope those couple of things you got going are inside.”
    “Some are, some aren’t. Why don’t you let me send you on that cruise this summer, Ma Bee? Or anywhere else you’d like to go.”
    “I like where I’m sitting well enough. What’s on your mind? You’re not here just to flirt with me. Worried about your redheaded girl? Phineas told me what happened to her ex-husband. Said you were right there when it did.”
    “It was…I don’t have a word for what it was.” He drank deep.
    “It’s evil’s what it is. People toss that word off so it loses the darkness of it. But that’s what it is. Are you having trouble sleeping? I can make you up some herb tea would help some.”
    “No, I’m all right. It’s bad business, Ma. This guy, he says he killed that kid. The one over on the east side who had those people in the liquor store. Shot him after Phoebe talked him into surrendering. So yeah, I’m worried about her. She knows what she’s doing, but…”
    “When somebody matters, you’ve got to worry.”
    “She’s got her family pretty much locked up in her house on Jones while she’s out there knowing what she’s doing. Her mother…Well, she’s had some hard knocks.”
    He began to tell her, found himself going through all of it. What he knew, what he’d deduced, what he’d observed.
    “Girl’s got a lot on her plate. ’Course any woman raising a child without its father’s got an extra serving right there. And her mother having that condition.” Thoughtful, Ma looked out over her yard. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t go where I wanted when