I PULL INTO THE POLICE station parking lot around 2 p.m., just in time to see Gladys getting out of her van.
Walking up to her, I say, “Gladys, what are you doing here?“
She looks at me with fiery eyes through her teal-rimmed glasses. “I’m here to see what that son of a b***h is gonna say about his night of passion with Ashley,” she says matter-of-factly.
“How did you find out Helen’s questioning him this afternoon?”
She flashes me a grin. “I didn’t until you just told me.”
With that, she turns away and begins wheeling herself across the pavement to the back door of the station. I shake my head, only a little upset that I allowed her to trick me.
After all, she does have an IQ of 189.
I jog to catch up with her and am forced to keep up a good pace to stay with her. “Gladys,” I say.
