Mrs. Duvall

  

  

“Excuse me, Ma’am, can I help you” ask the young corporal.

“Yes, please,” The woman said, easing up to the counter. “I need to fill out papers to make someone’s bond.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her smile was faint and quivered.

“First things first, I need the name of the subject, and do you know which agency is holding them?”

“Yes sir, William Wesley Frost, he is in county lock-up.” Her voice began to crack as she blinked with every other word.

“Hmm,” said the corporal with his chin stuck out. “I’m surprised anyone in town would make his bail. He is most unpopular.” and he cleared his throat.

“I guess, I am, the only person that would make his bail.”

“Well, they say, one good turn deserves another.” The man stated, his friendly demeanor changed to a stone mask as he stamped the paperwork angrily.

“Yes, sir, it’s something like that.” She said, avoiding eye contact as she fettled with her dress...

“Well, I should tell you processing is short-handed. It will be an hour, maybe more. The public is not allowed to wait in this area.”

“Yes sir, that will be fine, I will be outside in my truck.” Her five-foot four-inch thin frame turned to walk away. Her outfit would have been perfect for a Sunday social. Yellow and lavender never looked so sweet. She stood out like a sore thumb in booking among uniforms and inmates.

Corporal Lime, glanced down at her name. “Mrs. Duvall,” she turned back to look his way. “You are aware he was arrested for crimes, against, children, aren’t you? There is a certain responsibility that goes along with making someone’s bail.” His words held a small amount of disdain and command.

Now her voice was flat, and her eyes were full of sorrow as she replied. “I am aware of his crimes, and I assure you, the city will be safe from his brand of evil.” Then she turned, opened the door, and left. 

The wind hit her face as the door opened wide. She was relieved to feel fresh air, another second in there, and she would have passed out from fright.

She crossed the sidewalk to her vintage ford truck. The keys to her pickup lost in her hand-bag. A lump stole her air as she fumbled a crossed Beth’s blue hair ribbon. She wove the ribbon between her fingers, snatched the keys, and waited.

She waited for Mr. Frost and relived Beth’s birthday party; cake, children, pony rides, and the park. “My Lord, why did I have that party in the park?” Burning tears blinded her eyes. She shook her head as she wrung her hands and composure was regained. 

The booking doors open as did her own. William Wesley Frost climbed down the steps as she stepped forward. For a woman in her late 40’s, she was attractive. His eyes were too busy looking her over to notice her hand in her purse. His smile was full and made her blood boil. With no words or expression out came the Walter PP 1. Just like her self-defense course, she squeezed off three rounds two to the body and one to the head. 

The young corporal was outside in seconds. Mrs. Duvall was quickly escorted back to booking.

 “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, Ron. Can I call you, Ron? He told my Beth, he’d, be back, and sometimes ‘peace of mind’ has a cost,"  and so here is where her story begins.

 

 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I'm probably a lot like Mrs. Duvall in that respect. Anyone who hurt a child of mine would be in deep do-do, I'm here to tell you. Very effective story-telling, Cherrie.

[Ron]

Super story. We can all see your brain ticking away on it. It has a vein of truth sounding in it. One Million readers form an action group called 'Mrs Duvall Is Innocent!' "Free Mrs Duvall!" "Free Mrs Duvall." Creative fertile story line.