ALWAYS A GUN

  Terry Persun

  Copyright © 2023 by Terry Persun

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Custom Cover Design by SelfPubBookCovers.com/andrewgraphics

  For Howard, Jeri, and Randy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Terry Persun

  Chapter 1

  Even what sounded like a simple robbery made Leslie’s stomach turn. He glanced toward his partner, Mae Belle Walker, cocked his head, and started his patrol car. “Guess we’re heading toward Larry’s Strip Mall.”

  He still called it Larry’s because Larry’s Firearms used to be the anchor for the strip when it was first built, maybe forty years ago, until just recently, maybe five years ago, when the Z-Mart took over the anchor position. Shit, he thought while pulling out of the Dunkin’ Donuts lot where he and Mae Belle had stopped for coffee. Had it been that long since Larry’s Firearms had folded?

  Mae Belle stayed in touch with dispatch using the patrol car’s radio. Over the unit came Glenda’s gravelly voice. “Robbery in-process.” Glenda was a long-time heavy smoker, and Leslie cringed to hear her voice over the radio. In the day, she had a sweet voice, but time and cigarettes can change that.

  “Going on right now,” Mae Belle said. She keyed the mic. “Be there in three.” He noticed the glint of excitement in her eyes.

  “The perp is waving a baseball bat around,” Glenda said over the comms.

  “Only a baseball bat. No weapon,” Mae Belle repeated.

  “There’s always a gun,” Leslie said before pointing at the radio. “You know I can hear her.”

  “Sorry, Fuller. I repeat things to set them in my head. I’ll stop. I just meant that it appeared that his only weapon was a baseball bat.”

  “We don’t know the perpetrator is a he.”

  “Probably is, though. Some hoodlum thinking he can get away with a robbery using a baseball bad.”

  Leslie smiled at her innocence.

  She smiled back. “I know what goes on in this town.”

  Mae Belle was a fairly new recruit. They had only been working together a few weeks. He was still getting to know her. This was the first real crime they’d been called to. At that time of year, a lot of people holed up in their homes after nine o’clock. Leslie suspected the majority might even be sleeping.

  “You don’t have to stop repeating if it helps you do your job,” he said.

  They were only three minutes from the Z-Mart as Mae Belle had told Glenda. Leslie pulled up to the side of the building and turned off the cruiser. He sat for a moment, not even reaching for the door handle.

  “Front or back?” Mae asked a bit more enthusiastically than he expected.

  “Front,” Leslie said.

  “Yeah, he’s not likely to rush out the front door and run like hell,” she said.

  He heard a bit of sarcasm in her voice and put it off until later. But he’d have to have a talk with her, nonetheless.

  “I’d like to retire,” he said, thinking about getting swatted by a baseball bat as the perp tried running out the back.

  “Wouldn’t we all.”

  “You’re much younger. You can run faster.” He chuckled but didn’t feel it was funny. He knew what he was doing, avoiding head-on conflict. He did want to retire.

  They both got out of the car. He waited for Mae Belle to reach the corner of the building before reaching inside the cruiser. He chirped the siren a few times to get the person inside to panic and run. They needed to surprise him. That way, he’d be less likely to hurt the person working behind the counter. Leslie swung around the back of the cruiser and headed toward the front door. He caught a glimpse of the young man.

  Long hair, scruffy beard, loose clothing. Probably a meth-head looking for cash. Like an idiot, he glanced toward Leslie, then he threw the bat down and ran for the back door. Drugs could really make you stupid, Leslie thought. He took a few quick steps toward the front door and rushed inside. He looked at a frightened young girl at the counter and wondered who called the robbery in. She still had her hands up. “You okay?”

  She nodded her head yes.

  “I’ll be back.” He turned and went out the door again and rushed toward the far end of the strip mall. There were only three stores in the strip: the Z-Mart where Larry’s used to be, Shear Beauty, and Seconds, a used bookstore for mostly mass market paperbacks.

  By the time he reached the end of the building, he heard Mae Belle yelling into her shoulder radio, “Coming your way.”

  Leslie hoped he was going in the right direction. Just as he turned the corner at Seconds, the kid ran into him. His reflexes were still quick. Leslie swung his arm around and grabbed the kid’s bulky shirt up near the neck, jerked him back, and tripped him, following him to the ground where he placed a knee on the kid’s thigh.

  “That hurts!”

  “I didn’t hit you with a bat,” Leslie said.

  Mae Belle came around the side of the building, pulled out handcuffs, and slipped them over the kid’s wrists. “You have the right to remain silent. . .”

  Leslie yanked the kid to his feet and turned him around as Mae Belle read him his rights. “Godfrey?”

  “Mister Fuller?”

  He knew the kid. Not a druggy. “What the hell do you think you were doing in there?”

  “I don’t know. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “Jesus.”

  “You know this goon?” Mae Belle asked.

  “Neighbor at one time. Out in the trailer park east of town. I know his family. He must be the dumb one.”

  “Hey, you don’t need to insult me,” Godfrey said.

  “Look what the hell you did,” Leslie said. He turned to Mae Belle. “Lock him in the cruiser and babysit him while I check out the scene to see if he did any real damage.”

  As Mae Belle pulled him forward, Godfrey looked over his shoulder toward Leslie. “Can’t I go? I said I was sorry.”

  Mae Belle said, “Come on, genius.”

  Leslie shook his head and walked back into the Z-Mart. The girl looked as if she were about to cry. She wrung her hands and paced behind the counter. He talked casually with her for a few minutes, first asking how she liked working there, where she went to school—she looked like a high-schooler—and did she know Godfrey, which she didn’t. Her name was Liz, cute kid, and sounded smart.

  “He scared me.” She shook her head. “I’m so glad you got here quickly.”

  “We weren’t far.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Leslie laughed and glanced out the door. “He’s actually not a bad kid at all. And not a bad lookin’ kid when he cleans up. Family’s had a rough time of it lately, since his dad lost his job.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Scare him, I hope.”

  She twisted her face at his response.

  “If he realizes he can’t get away with any of this, he’ll go out and find a job. He’s a healthy kid. This kind of money grab looks easy. He just found out that it isn’t.”

  She shook her head again. Apparently, her usual response for the evening. “I hope you’re right. I sure don’t want to see him again.”

  “So, who called this in?”

  She stared at him for a minute.

  Leslie knew something was going on when she didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t wait for her to spit it out. “So, who?”

  She turned to look toward the back office. “Micky!”

  A gangly boy about her age opened the door and stepped out a moment later. Leslie figured out what was going on right away. Micky wasn’t supposed to be there.

  Liz glanced over at Micky and back at Leslie. “He was just getting some soda or something. I, ah, saw that kid with the baseball bat and told him to go into the office and call the police. That’s all it was.”

  “Your family owns the store, don’t they? You must be Albert’s daughter.”

  Her eyes grew large.

  “I won’t tell this time. I do recommend that you close down a
nd go home. Let your dad and mom know what happened so maybe you don’t work alone every night.”

  “You won’t tell them?”

  “Not unless asked directly.”

  Micky looked relieved, but Liz didn’t look so sure.

  “Do as I say, okay? Close the store for the night. You’re in no shape to stay open. And go home.” Leslie eyed Micky. “You too, son.”

  “Yes, sir,” Liz said. Micky nodded.

  Leslie picked the bat up on his way out. Nothing looked damaged.

  He peered into the back seat at Godfrey. He threw the bat into the cab. “Mabel here treat you well?”

  “It’s Mae Belle, please. I hate the name Mabel.”

  “Deputy Walker. Will that work?”

  “Either one,” she said.

  Leslie didn’t wait for Godfrey to answer him. He closed the back door, then slipped behind the steering wheel, pinning the bat next to the door with his knee, and headed away from the Z-Mart.

  “We taking him in?”

  “Not this time. It’s a catch and release. He didn’t do any damage.” Leslie turned and spoke louder. “And I know where he lives.”

  “It’s the other way,” Godfrey said.

  “I know.” Leslie drove another few minutes until they were maybe two miles away from the trailer park where Godfrey lived. He stopped the car and got out.

  “You’re leaving me out here?” Godfrey whined.

  Leslie grabbed the bat as he got out of the cruiser. He pulled Godfrey from the back seat and then handed the bat to him. Mae Belle had opened the passenger door and stood with one leg in the cruiser and one out, watching what went on.

  Leslie turned Godfrey around so he could uncuff him. “I want you to think about a few things as you walk home. It’s only a couple miles. You’ll be home well before midnight. I want you to think about what real job you can get that will pay for your cigarettes and beer and maybe a date once you clean the hell up some.”

  “There aren’t no jobs in town.”

  “My daddy always said that if you can’t find work, you ain’t lookin’. So, tomorrow you’ll start looking. Got that?”

  “I will, Mr. Fuller.”

  “If I catch you doing anything stupid like that shit you pulled back there again, I’ll put you in jail, we’ll prosecute you, and you’ll go to prison.”

  Godfrey’s head started shaking. “I won’t. I won’t.”

  “Now get home.” Leslie got back into the cruiser as Godfrey started walking away.

  “You let him go,” Mae Belle said once she sat back down, too.

  “I did. We have the report. He didn’t steal anything. I told you it was catch and release.”

  “What if he does something like this again, thinking he could get away with it again?”

  “He won’t.” Leslie smiled at her and looked her in the eye. “These are people, not criminals. Most of them, anyway. You can’t treat everyone like a criminal.”

  “Before we went in, you said something.”

  “What’d I say?”

  “That there is always a gun.”

  He pointed at her sidearm. “If you pull that out—even if you don’t—and there is a tussle, it could go off and kill someone, the perpetrator could get his hands on it and kill you, or any number of scenarios between. So, even if they don’t have a gun, once you’re involved, there is a gun. Yours.”

  “We’re taught—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you’re taught.”

  Chapter 2

  After two days off which coincided with his kids’ days off of school—which didn’t always happen—Leslie spent most of his Monday patrolling town. His daughter, Beth-Anne, had acted preoccupied most of the weekend, but at seventeen, he figured that could be expected. Tuesday morning, he grabbed a cup of the station’s bitter coffee, walked over to his desk, and set his coffee cup on its corner before relaxing into his chair. He worked at the county sheriff’s department outside of the small town of Hepburn, Pennsylvania. He took a moment to fumble with straightening out his desktop, moving the stapler and tape dispenser so they sat squarely, then moving his keyboard closer and punching in his password. His desk sat against the far wall, so he had a pretty good view of the open area where a few other deputies worked. Deputy Walker had been his assigned partner for now, and she’d been given the desk opposite, and butt up against, his. Only their computer monitors were between them, blocking their view to keep them from staring at each other while in the office. He had been scheduled for day shift while training and working with Deputy Walker.

  Leslie glanced around the room. He felt tired but didn’t feel as bad as some of his cohorts looked. Unlike a lot of the other deputies, he still exercised in his basement gym often enough to stay in relative shape, for a fifty-five-year-old, that is. His plan was to retire at sixty, get maximum retirement pay, and maybe learn how to be a butcher at the local grocery store. He had always liked how they wielded a knife, and he never minded the cold. He tapped a few keys on his computer keyboard, bringing up the daily news. There was always some sort of paperwork, but he could manage that later. He scanned the news and wondered if the other deputies felt as unfulfilled in their job choice. As a young buck, he was gung-ho, but he’d also seen men—and women—die on the job: everything from a heart attack, a car accident, and a bullet, which had happened to one of his partners a few years ago. That incident left its mark. He didn’t like any of the options, which was why he planned to take it easy his last few years. He also promised his wife he’d make it through to retirement.

  The tip of a cheap ballpoint pen tapped his monitor from underneath, getting his attention.

  “You want something, Mae Belle?” He was careful to say her name correctly, since calling her Mabel seemed to tick her off the other day.

  She leaned to the side to look at him. “Day shift is the worst. Nothing going on.”

  “There will be a day when you cherish this time, I guarantee it.”

  “Let’s take a prowl around town, maybe drive past that strip mall we were at the other night, make sure everything’s okay.”

  “I could do that. We could get a real cup of coffee while we’re down that way. You want to tell Sheriff Buckley, or do you want me to?”

  She turned her head when they both heard the door to the sheriff’s office open, as though on cue. “Here he comes now. Maybe something’s going on.” She sounded hopeful.

  Leslie pulled closer to his desk where he was less visible. Sheriff Buckley stood straight and tall as he glanced around the floor. When the sheriff’s gaze swept his way, Leslie shrunk down in his chair and whispered, “He’s looking for someone to send out on a job. Let’s wait and see what it is.”

  “Should we—”

  He shook his head to cut her off. “We’re not volunteering. Not if you want to have a pleasant day.”

  She sat back hard in her seat, obviously in disagreement about what a pleasant day would look like.

  Leslie picked up his coffee cup and held it near his mouth as though blowing on it, an added block between him and the sheriff that he could hide behind.

  Sheriff Buckley cleared his throat, and the other deputies in the room stopped what they were doing and looked up. “Just got a call about a missing young man and need a team to do a few interviews and inquiries. Been missing two days now.” Interviews and inquiries were key words the sheriff used to indicate an investigation which could last for days or more. In the county, every crime turned into an interview and inquiry, but few were ever solved, since most worked themselves out. Out of the ones that were solved over the years, Leslie had been their top performer. He liked puzzles. When it came to missing kids, there were only a few options. Regardless, Leslie didn’t want to spend his day with hysterical parents and friends trying to tell him how to do his job. If he could just keep his head low.

  Leslie heard Mae Belle tapping her pen against the desk rapidly. He hoped Buckley didn’t hear it. He slunk deeper into his chair and held his cup higher as the sheriff walked farther into the room.

  “Henderson and Cohen, you’re up.”

  Leslie heard an audible “Ahhh” come from one of them, expressing how most of them felt if chosen—except maybe for Mae Belle, the new kid.

  Buckley was an old farm kid and carried quite the bulk these days. When he spoke, people listened. He could be a hard head about things sometimes. And he didn’t like the response he got, so he added, “No days off until you come up with something.”