4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Zach
B eing a cop in a small town is kind of…boring. I suppose it’s better than the alternative of there being a lot of crime in Juniper Grove, though.
This time of year, with tourists being minimal, there aren’t even many speeders.
I spend most of the time in my patrol car anyway, driving through the streets and watching at the speed traps.
“Officer Benning.” The voice comes over my radio.
“Officer Benning here.”
“We got a call from the pharmacy about Mrs. Henderson again.”
“On it.”
Dispatch doesn’t need to say more. This is at least a monthly occurrence and has been for the past several years.
Pulling out of my spot, I head straight to the pharmacy. The only reason they even called me is that I’ve become somewhat of the Mrs. Henderson whisperer over the years, and I’m able to get her to calm down quickly and leave without a fuss.
The poor woman is in her nineties, so she just needs a gentle hand. And sometimes somebody to talk to.
I park in front of the store, leaving the lights on as I walk in. Mrs. Henderson can be heard screaming through the space.
It’s a constant complaint. She thinks the store is stealing from her. That the medicine she’s being given is fake and they just want her money. The poor woman has about a dozen prescriptions, so it’s possible she’s not entirely wrong, but I’d blame her doctor more than the pharmacy.
The fact that a woman of her age can project her voice to such an extreme is kind of impressive. Though, Mrs. Henderson is quite spritely for a woman in her nineties.
Her words are clearer to make out once I get closer. “That’s my money you’re taking! It’s mine, and I want it back!”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson, but you’re paying for your medication.”
She throws a bottle of pills at the pharmacist. “Take them. I don’t want them. I want my damn money.”
I take a step forward and put my hand on hers. “Hello, Mary. How are you today?”
She turns to me with rage in her green eyes, but it calms as soon as she registers it’s me. We’ve built a bond over the years of my responding to these calls. “Oh, Zachary. Good, you’re here. Can you help me, please? They’re stealing my money.”
“Mary, we’ve talked about this. Dr. Pletha has prescribed you these medications because they’re helping you live comfortably. If you don’t take them, you could end up in the hospital or worse. We’d hate to lose you.”
“But they’re just so expensive.” She slouches, a frown pulling at her brow with defeat.
“I know. And that’s frustrating. But do you have to take it out on Wendy over there? She’s just doing her job.” I extend my hand toward the cowering brunette. What she’s so afraid of, I have no idea. Sure, Mrs. Henderson threw a pill bottle, but it’s not like she’s going to jump over the counter at her. Probably.
“I’m sorry, young lady. I’m quite frustrated by this situation, and you are the one who is giving me the pills and taking the money.”
“I think a few phone calls to the medication companies may make you feel better. You can yell at them all you like.” I raise an eyebrow at my suggestion. This usually entices her to leave.
“That sounds lovely.”
I extend my arm for her to take, and she wraps her wrinkled hands around it. We walk slowly out of the pharmacy and to my squad car.
“Let me drive you home, Mary.”
“Nonsense, it’s only two blocks away. I can walk.” She straightens as she talks. Despite her age, she still walks through town and speed walks as her form of exercise. Sometimes I’m convinced the old broad is going to outlive all of us.
“I know you can, but I’d feel better if you let me give you a lift.” We stand in a staring contest, and I know she’s not going to give in unless I pull out the big guns. “Please? For me.” I rest my fingers against my chest and give her my best puppy dog eyes.
She has to look up at me, as my six-foot-two frame towers over her, but I see the moment she relents as her whole body loosens. “Alright, Zachary. I’ll let you give me a ride home.”
One thing that can’t be said about Mrs. Henderson is that she’s losing her mind. She’s sharp as a tack.
Resting her hand in mine, she lets me help her lower herself into the front seat, and I shut the door once she’s safely inside.
At one point, Mrs. Henderson struck me as the kind that would steal a cop car if given the opportunity.
“What do you think, Mary? Lights or no lights?”
A wicked smile creeps across her face. “Siren and everything, Zachary.”
“You got it, ma’am.” With a smirk, I flick the lever to turn on the sirens, keeping the lights swirling.
Instead of going straight to Mrs. Henderson’s, I make a few passes around the block. She lives close by, and I want to give her a nice joyride.
I’m sure if Mazie’s in the café today she’ll see us driving by. She knows I have a tendency to indulge Mrs. Henderson and that I’m the one on call. And the girls get some entertainment out of seeing the response to her tantrums.
It’s been about ten minutes since we left the pharmacy, and Mrs. Henderson has a wide smile on her face, her eyes glinting in the sun as I pull into her driveway.
I look up at the modest house, knowing it’s far too big for just her but she’ll never move. The woman is going to die in that house, and probably haunt the new residents for decades to come.
Her house is practically an institution of Juniper Grove. One of the original houses left in town, it has been in her family for generations. Her late husband was in construction and did a lot of work to make it what it looks like today. They raised their four kids in that house, and while none of them have come back to Juniper Grove, I hope one of them will make the sacrifice to keep the residence in the family.
“Thank you, Zachary.”
“As always, it’s been a pleasure. But maybe next time, try not to get into it with the pharmacist.”
She pushes her shoulders back. It’s the same conversation every time. “I’ll try better to contain my frustration. Please apologize again to Wendy.” Without giving me a chance to ensure I will, she’s out of the car and walking up to the front door of her home.
I shake my head as I watch her disappear inside.
Well, at least that provided some entertainment to my day.