Bill Hopkins - Judge Rosswell Carew 01 - Courting Murder (18 page)

Frizz said, “Not yet.”

Purvis said, “Johnny Dan knew one of the victims. The male victim. It was Eddie Joe Deckard.”

“EJD,” Rosswell said. “That explains the initials on the ring.” In other words, Nathaniel lied to Ollie and Rosswell about what the initials meant. Why the lie?

Purvis said, “Eddie Joe Deckard was one of the biggest dope dealers in your county.”

“I know Eddie Joe Deckard.” Frizz removed his hat, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then stuck the hat back on. “I’ve never had one whiff of a suspicion on that boy. How could he be the biggest dope dealer around here?”

“Simple,” Purvis said. “He didn’t do business in this county. As far as we could tell, Eddie Joe wasn’t a user. All he did was deal. And he was making a healthy profit. He was the linchpin between Birmingham, Memphis, St. Louis, and Kansas City.”

“And yet no one bothered to tell me?” Frizz said. “That’s a crock of day-old shit.”

“The ring?” Rosswell prompted Purvis.

Purvis said, “Johnny Dan made a buy from Eddie Joe. Johnny Dan
claimed he didn’t have the full amount of money for the dope. Eddie Joe gave him credit but wanted some kind of collateral. Johnny Dan gave Eddie Joe his ring.”

“The initials?” Rosswell again prompted Purvis. “How did Eddie Joe’s initials show up on Johnny Dan’s ring?”

“Johnny Dan told me that Eddie Joe refused to return the ring. Somewhere along the line, Eddie Joe had his initials engraved inside the band since he decided to keep the ring.”

Again, Rosswell thought, that story didn’t fit with Nathaniel Dahlbert’s story, which was that a schismatic group of Masons added the first letters of Even Just Die to the Latin motto. And those letters happened to be the same as the initials of Eddie Joe Deckard? This possible coincidence seemed especially ludicrous.

The gaggle of Harley riders who’d circled the station a couple of times did a complete tour again. Maybe they were growing suspicious. Purvis talking to the sheriff. And for a long time. Rosswell was happy that the hog riders couldn’t see the handcuffs on the big guy.

“Let me get this right,” Rosswell said, staring straight at Purvis. “One of the biggest dope pushers in the country lived in Bollinger County, but nobody in Missouri knew. Only y’all in Alabama knew.”

Purvis hid an ace or two up his sleeve. The problem, however, was that Rosswell had no idea what the game was. And he doubted that Frizz knew either. “And the tale gets better. Johnny Dan gave Eddie Joe his Masonic ring as collateral on a dope deal? And Eddie Joe decided to have his initials engraved inside the ring and keep it?” Rosswell toyed with the idea of trying to imitate Ollie’s squeak, but gave up on the idea.

Purvis said, “Judge, do you think that only when a criminal’s rational plans get screwed up that charges are brought? These dopers do a lot more stupid things than you ever dreamed of.”

Rosswell said, “And Johnny Dan followed Eddie Joe out to the park?”

“Yes,” said Purvis. “We asked him to keep an eye on Eddie Joe.”

“And,” Rosswell said, “Johnny Dan
almost saw
who murdered Eddie Joe and the woman?”

“Correct.” Purvis stroked Scooby’s head. The dog licked Purvis’s hand. “Johnny Dan can’t swear to it in court, but he’s almost certain that the killer was a woman. That’s why we didn’t want Johnny Dan to talk to you, Frizz. We didn’t have a sure footing yet.”

The whole story sounded like a load of crap. Rosswell had heard loads of crap before. Yes, there’s plenty of jurisdictional squabbling when it comes to law enforcement agencies, but Purvis’s story reeked of something made up during a late night of drinking. From his squinted eyes and downturned mouth, Frizz didn’t seem to be buying the whole load either.

Frizz said, “Now would be a good time to bring Johnny Dan in for questioning.”

Purvis nodded to Frizz. “You can have Johnny Dan. That’s why I’m here. You should have full access to him all you want. As far as we’re concerned, he can tell you anything.”

Rosswell said, “And blow his cover?”

Purvis said, “Undercover operatives don’t last forever. Eddie Joe is gone, and we consider that a major accomplishment. Time for us to move on to different targets.”

Frizz said, “You’re not worried that the other bad guys in the dope ring won’t try to kill Johnny Dan?”

Purvis stood silent.

“Answer me.”

Purvis said, “I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. Johnny Dan knew that when we signed him up.”

“Frizz,” Rosswell said, “I need to head back to Tina’s room. I’ve got to make sure she’s being guarded correctly.”

“Yeah,” Frizz said to Rosswell while staring at Purvis who hadn’t satisfactorily answered Frizz’s really good question. Frizz seemed distracted. “Purvis is headed for jail.”

A half hour later, Frizz knocked on Tina’s door. Rosswell said, “Come in.” Tina was sleeping. Housekeeping had visited earlier after Junior patted down the man on duty and checked his cart for hidden weapons. Priscilla came in after housekeeping left. She made Rosswell turn his back while she bathed Tina and fitted her with fresh pajamas, if those rags you get in hospitals could be called any kind of sleepwear.

Frizz said, “Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah. I relieved the female deputy. Hope that’s okay.”

“Sure. Listen, I’ve been asking around about Eddie Joe. I can’t find out who he’d been hanging around with lately. We’re still searching for the bodies, but the volunteers have dwindled down to two or three.”

Rosswell said, “Have you been to the deadfall yet?”

“Nope. Going there tomorrow. The river’s still too high but it’s going down.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“There’s something funny about Eddie Joe.”

“Funny?”

“I couldn’t find out where he lived. The closest I came was an address that’s six months old. Somebody else stays there now, but it’s like Eddie Joe disappeared after he moved.”

“And now he’s dead?”

“Seems so, if Purvis knows what he’s talking about.” Frizz rubbed his nose and sneezed. “Something’s floating around in the air. Anyway, Purvis talked me into helping. I didn’t throw him in jail. He’s out trying to track down info on Eddie Joe.”

“Maybe Eddie Joe had moved off somewhere and came back for a visit.”

“Anything’s possible,” Frizz said. “He owned a house in Marble Hill. He sold it and left no forwarding address. That’s not unusual. I’ve talked to a couple of people who’ve seen him around in the last few months, but no one knows where he stays.”

“Where did he live in town?”

Frizz told Rosswell the address.

Rosswell gasped. Loudly. Detectives shouldn’t do that since it removes the element of surprise.

“That,” Rosswell said, “is where Nathaniel Dahlbert lives.”

“Who the hell is Nathaniel
Dahlbert?”

Rosswell gave Frizz what he knew about the book salesman.

Frizz said, “Do you think he’s mixed up in this in any way? Sounds like Nathaniel knows his way around a computer. It wouldn’t be hard for him to set up dope deals on the Internet.”

“I don’t know who is doing what.”

Tina moaned. Frizz moved over to her bed, watching her sleep. “She’ll be fine.”

Rosswell reached under the covers and touched Tina’s hand. She moved. The bedding crinkled, signaling it was clean. He tucked the crisp-smelling blanket around her neck. This being a hospital, the temperature in the room hovered around 5 degrees below comfortable.

“Frizz, there are lot of reasons that I hope she’s fine. More than fine.” Secretly, he’d been praying that Tina lived long enough to attend his funeral, not the other way around. A world without Tina was unimaginable. “Her reaction to the anesthesia is beginning to worry me. She should’ve been out of the hospital by now.”

“Tell you what.” Frizz practically fell into the chair next to Tina’s bed. “Go talk to this Nathaniel guy again, knowing what you know now.”

“I thought you wanted me off the case.”

“I’m so tired I don’t know if I’ve found a rope or lost a horse. You’ve talked to Nathaniel. He’ll be more likely to talk to you than me. He’ll tell you more than he would me.”

“I’m not leaving Tina.”

“You go and I’ll stay.” When Rosswell didn’t consent immediately, Frizz continued, “I’ll stay behind a locked door and not move from this chair until you get back. I’ll threaten Junior with a slow, painful death if he bothers us.”

Rosswell could see that Frizz was indeed exhausted. If the sheriff wasn’t useless now, he soon would be. Maybe a nap was in order. If the worst happened and the crazed murderer made another run at Tina, Junior would probably shoot the bad guy—or was it a bad girl? If Junior failed, Frizz could stop the killer, even if he had been napping. A nap? Close your eyes in any hospital and listen to the noise. How could a nap be possible with all the clanking and talking going on? Rosswell’s mother had always said that a hospital was no place for a sick person. He wondered if an orderly would wake Tina for a sleeping pill.

“All right.” Rosswell gave a half-hearted salute. “I’ll talk to Nathaniel.”

Frizz listed the specifics of what he wanted to know and then Rosswell walked out the door of Tina’s room. After he heard the click of the lock, he left the hospital.

When Nathaniel opened his door, he said, “Judge, good to see you again.”

Yes, you’re about as happy to see me again as I was when I found out I had leukemia.

“Come in.”

If Nathaniel was trying to hide anything, he was putting on a happy face. A secretive person doesn’t ask an investigator—thanks to Frizz’s request, Rosswell considered himself a detective now—to come into his house with such warmth if there’s something to hide. Right? Maybe Nathaniel hadn’t heard that Rosswell was a detective now.

After the formalities, Rosswell asked, “When did you buy this house?”

“Tea?” The silver tea service, shiny and clean, sat ready for service. “It’s time for my afternoon tea.”

“Could you answer the question?”

Any warmth Nathaniel had shown disappeared in an instant. “Is it true that in law school they teach you never to ask a question in court unless you already know the answer?”

The rich fragrance of Golden Steed Eyebrow flooded the room when Nathaniel poured his cup. China’s Fujian Province is the only place in the world where that tea grows. With the dollar in the toilet, the beverage had to be the most expensive imported drink in America.

Rosswell said, “I don’t recall anyone in law school saying specifically that you should know the answer before you ask the question, but it’s certainly a good idea.”

He’d never heard that taught in law school. Maybe some professor said it when he was trying to catch a nap after a big lunch.

“Then you already know that I bought it six months ago?”

And what secrets, Nathaniel, do you have?
That’s the question Rosswell wanted to ask but didn’t.

“Yes, I already knew that.” As with his discussion with Father Mike about confession, Rosswell again felt as if he were in the fifth grade being interrogated by an irritated teacher slapping a chalkboard eraser on her palm. The memory of chalk dust made him sneeze. “Who did you buy it from?”

“You already know the answer to that, also.” Nathaniel leaned back in his recliner. “Eddie Joe Deckard.”

Rosswell had heard the cliché about blood boiling all his life. Now with the fire of anger sizzling his insides, he realized how the phrase started.

Keep it steady. Don’t lose this guy. You need info from him.

“Nathaniel, why didn’t you mention him when we were here the first time?”

“You didn’t ask me about him.”

“Sure, I did.”

“No, you did not. Ollie asked me if I knew a Mason around here with the initials EJD.”

“And you told us that the letters EJD weren’t the initials of a person. You gave us an unadulterated bullshit story about those letters standing for a motto.”

Again, Rosswell sneezed. It wasn’t the memory of chalk. It was dust on the books. Why hadn’t it bothered him the first time he was there?

“I certainly did, but it wasn’t, as you say, unadulterated bullshit.” Nathaniel scratched his ear. “What is ‘unadulterated bullshit’?”

“It’s something Ollie says.”             

Nathaniel scanned the books in his living room. Perhaps he searched for a dictionary or thesaurus. “How can something as nasty as bullshit be considered unadulterated?” He’d been cleaning house, stirring up dust. A spray can of
Endust and a rag gave mute testimony to Rosswell’s conclusion.

“If you knew Ollie better, you wouldn’t ask that question.” Rosswell found it hard to talk with clenched teeth. “You especially wouldn’t want to ask Ollie that question. The answer might last an hour.”

Nathaniel pushed the recliner down and stood. “Would it make you less curious if I gave you permission to talk to my real estate agent?” He opened a desk drawer and rifled through it. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“What would I learn from your real estate agent that you couldn’t
tell me?”

“What is it that you want to know?”

“First of all, I want to know where Eddie Joe Deckard went after he sold you his house.”

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” Nathaniel stopped leafing through the papers in the drawer. “Here it is.”

“Who is your real estate agent?” Nathaniel read from a business card: “Nadine Dumbarton.”

“I know a Nadine but her last name isn’t Dumbarton. Never heard of Nadine Dumbarton. Is she from around here?”

“A native if I’m not mistaken. She’s the head of one of the largest real estate agencies in the county. Blessing Land Company.”

Nathaniel handed Rosswell the card. Rosswell said, “Blessing Land Company is owned by Nadine Blessing, not Nadine Dumbarton.”

“I’m sorry.” Nathaniel chuckled. “I knew her when we went to college. Her maiden name was Dumbarton.”

Rosswell choked. The card crinkled when he crushed it in his hand. He felt as if he’d broken the neck of a baby bird. Nathaniel backed away a couple of steps. A crazy judge in his house. First, he
wads up a business card for no reason. What will he do next? That’s what Nathaniel was thinking, Rosswell was sure of it.

And what had propelled Rosswell into the weird action?

N. D. Nadine Dumbarton? Nathaniel Dahlbert?

The murderer arranged the bodies with the initials ND. Bragging about her work. Or his work. One of the two is the killer. Or maybe they worked together, thinking it was cute to make a subtle ND clue.

From somewhere back in the recesses of Nathaniel’s house, Rosswell heard a telephone ring. Nathaniel made no move to answer it. The telephone by his recliner was not ringing. He had two telephones with two different numbers. After three rings, the telephone stopped. If it was hooked to an answering machine, Rosswell couldn’t hear the message.

Nathaniel returned to his recliner, sipped from his cup, remained
silent. His eyes never left Rosswell. Now, Rosswell assured himself, if Nathaniel felt he was a threat, he’d splash lukewarm tea in his face. A lot of good that would do. Rosswell’s skin would merely soak up the caffeine which would give him a burst of energy.

Rosswell pulled himself away from the distraction back to the main point. Nadine Dumbarton Blessing was the murderer. Or at least she was the first name on Rosswell’s really good suspect list. Dampening his thrill and agitation was a Herculean task. Rosswell didn’t want Nathaniel to see his excitement. Nathaniel could be involved with the murders. Nathaniel had known Nadine since college. Perhaps he and Nadine had cooked up some scheme to murder two people, for what reason Rosswell didn’t yet know. Warning Nadine that Rosswell would call on her, to snoop in her business would be the first thing Nathaniel would do if the real estate agent and the bookseller were cohorts in crime, but there wasn’t much he could do to prevent that.

Another thing bubbled to the surface of Rosswell’s brain.

He concluded that Nathaniel Dahlbert had shot at both Tina and him.

Or Nadine Dumbarton had shot at them.

One or both of them wanted Tina and me dead. We were snooping and getting close to the truth. ND would risk killing us before we could discover her guilt. Or his guilt. Or their guilt.

Either way, Nadine and Nathaniel were in cahoots. Rosswell couldn’t turn his back to the man. And he couldn’t leave Tina alone for another second. He’d talk to Frizz and tell him what he’d learned, but talking to Nadine could wait until morning, His wounded arm hurt and he felt close to collapsing.

Rosswell graciously excused himself from Nathaniel’s presence, with a recollection of an urgent appointment, and headed back to the hospital.