All at once, like a football player, Nick plowed into Wilson with his shoulder, taking him to the floor with a whump! The gun flew from Wilson’s hand. Nick and he wrestled, hurling blows and cusswords. Debbie Sue scrabbled for the loose gun. When she couldn’t get a grip on it, she kicked it across the floor, all the way to the payout counter. Sandi grabbed it up and carried it behind the counter.
Debbie Sue dashed back to her station, grabbed a hair dryer and jumped into the fight between Wilson and Nick. She pounded Wilson’s head with the hair dryer. Whack! Whack! After the two hard blows, he was out, blood spilling over the floor from a head wound.
Nick got to his feet. Puffing for breath, he dragged Wilson’s limp body over to Debbie Sue’s chair and plopped him into it. A mouse had already swelled under his eye. “Who the hell is this anyway?”
“Jake! I gotta find Jake,” Edwina cried. “He might be shot.” She ran into the back room.
“Oh, no!” Sandi followed Edwina.
The front door flew open. Billy Don charged in, gun in hand. He gave the room a quick once-over, stopped at a near-naked Quint tied to Edwina’s styling chair. His eyes bugged. “Whoa! What’s going on here?”
“Sheriff!” Quint cried, straining against his bindings. “Cut me loose from here.”
“Never mind him,” Debbie Sue said. “There’s the bad guy over there in my chair. Put some handcuffs on him before he wakes up.”
“Who is he?”
“John Wilson. From Midland.”
“You don’t mean—”
“Billy Don! Shut your mouth and just handcuff him, okay? And put him in a cell. Then call the Midland cops.... Oh, and after you handcuff him, before you take him outta here, dig into his pocket and get our money and give it back to us. He took everybody’s money.”
“Is this a robbery?”
“At the very least.” Debbie Sue answered.
Billy Don’s head began to shake. “If this is a robbery, I can’t give the money back. It’s evidence.”
“Cut me loose,” Quint shouted.
“Nick, his gun is over at the payout desk,” Debbie Sue said. “I saw Sandi put it there.”
Nick walked over and picked it up, took the time to unload it. “Here, sheriff. Here’s his gun.”
“This is an armed robbery?” Billy Don asked, his eyes bigger yet. He took the gun and stuffed it into his waist band.
“At the very least,” Debbie Sue repeated.
Billy Don busied himself handcuffing Wilson with cable ties. “I called our ambulance, Mr. Wilson. They’re probably not as fast as folks in the city, but they’ll be here pretty quick. They’ll have to take you to the hospital up in Odessa. If you think you can’t wait, I can ask the vet to come to town and sew you up.”
Wilson’s eyes had crossed. He mumbled something.
“Goddammit, will somebody cut me loose,” Quint yelled, on his feet and straining against the scarf and the cord that bound him to Edwina’s styling chair.
Debbie Sue stamped over to Edwina’s chair. “You are such a big baby.” She opened a drawer, pulled out a pair of scissors and cut the scarf.
“I want to know what the hell is going on here,” Quint said. “This is a damn madhouse.”
“I’ll tell you one thing, mister,” Billy Don said, pointing his finger at Quint’s nose. “I don’t know who you are, but you need to get some clothes on. I doubt these ladies want to look at you half naked.”
Debbie Sue gripped the curling iron and started to cut the cord. “Damn, I hate doing this. This is my best curling iron.”
Freed, Quint grabbed his hat, clapped it on his head, picked up his pants and shirt and stalked to the back room.
“Oh, my God,” Sandi’s voice from the back room.
“Quint! Put your clothes on,” Edwina cried.
“Dickhead! Dickhead!” Jake squawked.
“Sandi?” Nick marched to the back room and disappeared inside.
“Oh, Nick. Thank God you’re here.”
Nick’s deep voice came loud and clear. “You, buddy, get your clothes on.”
Debbie Sue rolled her eyes.
Soon, Sandi and Nick walked out of the back room arm in arm. Jake was perched on Sandi’s shoulder. Nick glanced down at Wilson. “That’s the dude from Midland. What’s he doing here?”
“It’s a really long story,” Debbie Sue answered. “An easier question is what are you doing here?”
“I came to meet Sandi. The idea was for me to apologize to Edwina, for breaking into her backyard and taking Buster.”
Quint came out of the back room, partially dressed, his shirt open, his shirttail hanging loose. He stomped to Edwina’s styling chair and began to pull on a sock. “Debbie Sue, you’ve got more loony goddamn friends than any woman I ever saw.”
He pulled on his other sock. “I don’t know what ever made me think I wanted to hook up with you again.”
He pulled on a boot. “I can see it was a mistake to drive all the way down here. My God. It’s sixty-five miles.”
He pulled on his second boot, stood to seat one heel, then the other and strode toward the front door.
“You can’t leave,” Billie Don said. “This is a crime scene. You’ve got to give a statement.”
“Bullshit,” Quint said, hanging on to the doorknob. “Everybody in this town is crazy. How’s that for a statement?”
“He’s right, Quint,” Debbie Sue said. “You’re a witness. If you leave before you give a statement, Billy Don can put out a warrant for your arrest.”
“Aargh!” Quint plopped down into Edwina’s chair again. Jake glided over and landed on his knee. Quint glared at him, but didn’t move. “Don’t you dare shit on me, you little bastard.
A soft garble came from Jake’s throat.
“That sounded like a threat to me,” Debbie Sue said.
Billy Don dug a small notebook out of his shirt pocket and methodically turned the pages until he found a blank one.
A new anxiety pricked Debbie Sue. Knowing Billy Don, this could take hours and Buddy might be back before it was over. “We’ve got appointments coming in for hairdos,” she said to Billy Don. “Why don’t
