Murder on the Rocks

by Clara Nipper

  “I’m coming!” Sophie cried joyously, falling apart like tender meat off the bone.

  “Come on me! Give me everything,” I answered.

  “Jill!” Alistair thundered from the other side of the door. “I know this is a bit awkward, but you have a visitor. Please attend this instant!”

  “Don’t. Do. It. Stay. Just for a second. Don’t. Go.” Sophie grunted and squeezed her cunt around my hand.

  Reluctantly, I rose. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone,” I said. Because I knew Sophie was sly and crafty, I picked up the toys and covered Sophie again.

  “Bloody hell, Jill, come on!” Alistair pounded the door.

  “Fuck you, whaaaat?” I yelled, flinging open the door. I stood there shirtless, wearing only parka, pants, and boots with the toys dangling from my hand.

  Sophie began screaming obscenities from the bed. “You no good son of a bitching tease! You sorry sack a shit! Get back here this minute! I will cut your balls off if you walk out that door! Don’t you dare leave me like this! I’ll fire your pig-cop ass. Just you try me!”

  In the hallway with Alistair, stood Chief St. John.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Oh, hi, Chief!” I said loudly enough for Sophie to hear. “Were you in the hood?”

  “Fuck the chief! Fuck you, Jill! Fuck me, somebody fuck me now!” Sophie kicked and twisted.

  “Sweet girl,” Chief said. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “She’s an old friend of the family.”

  “You better hope the chief puts out because I never will again! You won’t get another whiff of this!” Sophie screamed. Alistair, to my surprise, was blushing hard. He ran to the bed to try to soothe Sophie.

  “I’m sorry to bust up your family reunion, but we have a situ,” Chief said placidly.

  “Sure, Chief, sure.” I handed the toys to Alistair, who was perched on the edge of the bed. I picked up my shirt and followed the chief to the living room. “Sit down,” I said and sat on the couch. I took off my parka. I was not embarrassed to be undressed in front of the chief. He had known me since I was a polliwog and he was family. I put on my soggy undershirt, then my shirt, buttoning and tucking it in. Then I buckled my belt and tied my bootlaces.

  “Want to wash your hands?” Chief asked with a smile.

  I looked at them. “Why?”

  “Well, thank you for talking to me tonight. I know we both had other plans—”

  A high-pitched scream came from the bedroom, and there was a crash and the sound of scrabbling like a dog trying to find purchase on a slick floor. “Good Lord!” Alistair appeared in the doorway, disheveled. “I need tea.” He smoothed his hair, straightened his shirt, checked his pants, and stood up straight. “Anyone else?”

  “No, thanks,” we said in unison.

  “What’s up?” I patted my pockets for any remaining cigarettes even though I knew better. I wasn’t a sloppy, absent-minded smoker who left cigarettes under couch cushions and half-smoked roaches in ashtrays everywhere. I was deliberate. I smoked one at a time and finished it completely, inhaling it all the way to ash before I started on another one.

  “Goodson’s gone. You and Dana scared the suspect bird off the nest.”

  I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes. “How do you know?”

  “He’s been under surveillance off and on; just keeping tabs, you know, and the next time Officer Dean checked the residence, it was vacant. He’s gone for good.”

  “Kids and everything?”

  “Yep. What do you have to say for yourself? You pressed him too hard.”

  “Oh, Chief, that’s a steaming load. This is beneath you. You’re looking for a fall guy when nobody but Perryman and I thought he was guilty of a crime. He was cocky and arrogant with us and pretty much guaranteed his own immunity because of his pal Jim Harrison.”

  “Jim says he’s never heard of him.”

  “Jim says a lot of things to save his own fat ham.”

  “Well, what are you and Dana going to do now?”

  “Um…I don’t know, look for the sorry sack of shit?”

  Chief looked at his watch. “When?”

  “You need feet on the street this second? Sorry, not a minute before the thaw. I’ve already lost my car and phone. I am taking that as a sign from God.”

  Chief stared hopelessly out the dark windows. “That will be a while.”

  “Who’s breathing down your neck about this?”

  Alistair emerged from the kitchen with a giant mug. “Ah, yes, that’s the stuff. Sure you don’t want some tea and biscuits?” he asked us, taking a huge swallow from his big cup. “Mm, scalding. Just right.”

  “I’ve got to take off,” Chief said, standing.

  “So soon? You came over just for that? You banged me out of bed for this quickie?” I gesticulated in all directions, alarmed and confused.

  “It’s been a few days. I had to see your face. And you’re obviously buried waist-deep here, so I had to come to you.” Chief hardened his voice, “Is that all right?”

  I shook my head, dispelling my disbelief. “Whatever. Good night.”

  “Visit’s over already then?” Alistair put down his mug and walked the Chief to the door.

  I called Perryman. No answer.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  I ran eagerly back to the bedroom where I found Sophie dressed, sitting upright, working with her laptop, and talking on the phone. I started to remove my clothes, but she glared angrily at me and waved me out. I returned to the living room and stood by the fire, warming my perpetually chilled backside.

  “You cut off Sophie’s zip ties?” I asked Alistair who was typing on his laptop with one hand and hugging the mug to his chest with the other.

  “I thought it was a bit extreme,” Alistair said.

  “Well, I’m the law in these parts, and extreme or not, this situation called for such measures to be taken.” I surprised myself by sounding like an officious asshole. Why was I giving Alistair such a hard time? He was being nothing but gracious and helpful and a good sport about the breakup. In my head, Marny shook her head sadly and threw up her hands. Maybe I just couldn’t eliminate that part of my personality entirely and it had to leak out somewhere. I was a cop, after all. Some say it’s a prerequisite to have some strain of obnoxious prick in the character to make a successful officer.

  Alistair looked at me with raised eyebrows as if he weren’t disgusted by the maggot he now saw in front of him, but was merely puzzled and disappointed by it.

  “Sorry, old chap. Got to disagree with you there,” He said mildly. Then he returned to his computer and added, “I’m sure you have more plastic cuffies on you so if you do it again, I won’t interfere.”

  “I’m sorry, Alistair. I don’t know what gets into me.” I prided myself in being able to admit. “Of course, you’re right. Can we start over?”

  Alistair smiled. “I insist. You’re just a natural-born wanker, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged and clapped my hands on the outsides of my thighs. “Thank you.” I shrugged again, trying to convey humility and sincerity. “Thank you for…just thank you.”

  Alistair’s smile thinned. “Noblesse oblige? Pack it in.”

  “What the fuck is that? Whatever it is, it seems that I’ve pissed you off, so no, not that. I’m trying to reform and be nice. I’m such a wanker—”

  Alistair held up a finger. “You can’t say ‘wanker’ unless you’ve pledged fealty to the monarchy.”

  “Fine. I’m such a putz—” I waited for an objection and then continued, “I’m always saying the exact wrong thing and even I’m shocked by it. What I said before? I didn’t mean a word of it. Just that Sophie and I were so close and the chief came by…” I rubbed my eyes, “and now, she’s in there on her laptop and she’s banished me.”

  Alistair laughed. “Sophie and her work. It’s a sacred bond never violated by man or…” he appraised me, “beast.”

  “Good one,” I said. �
�What’s her job, exactly?”

  “Oh, that is pathetic. You don’t know what Sophie does for a living?”

  I grinned. “You don’t know either, do you?”

  “Not a clue.”

  I dropped onto the couch, Zippo already weaving between my fingers and making its metal music opening and closing while exhaustion overtook me. “What do you think she does?”

  “Well, she isn’t an attorney or a chef, is she? That’s all I’ve narrowed it down to thus far.”

  “You’ve never asked?”

  “Frankly, I’ve always found Americans to be far too invasive. Within the first five, you want to know my job, age, marital status, number and ages of children, income, address, and immediate plans. It’s a turn-off.” Alistair finished his tea. “I left it to her to tell me if she wished and it never came up, so I left it alone. A free etiquette tip from the rest of the world to you nosy Americans. Enough already with the inquisition.”

  “But how else do you get to know someone?”

  “Bloody hell! You think dry statistics bring you closer to someone’s center? So you’re ignorant and unimaginative as well, eh?”

  “I’m a cop. That’s how I’m built. To assess, find facts, measure, and evaluate.”

  “Give it a rest.”

  I laughed. “You want to say it, don’t you?”

  “Wanker.”

  “There it is.”

  “Just try to go a day without asking if someone is married. Just one day.”

  “I don’t think I can quit cold turkey like that,” I said, zipping up my coat.

  “You will never let me down, will you?”

  “I’ll say it for you: wanker.”

  “You do realize that it isn’t a compliment?”

  “Der,” I said, shrugging. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s kinda funny.”

  “So you’re using it as a label so you can hide behind it and not change?”

  “Wanker, ten-four.” I pointed a finger gun at him. Alistair rolled his eyes. “There is no contempt on earth as sharp as that of an Englishman’s affection,” I said.

  Alistair laughed. “True. Who said that?”

  “Doy. I did.”

  “No, who originally?”

  “Were you not listening? I did. Just now. Me.”

  “Jill!” Sophie called.

  I stood, my bones popping and protesting. “My mistress beckons. I said that too.”

  “Ah, you’re having me on.”

  “You think?” I slugged him on the shoulder and went to the bedroom.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Now maybe you’ll put your trust in me and your faith in the Lord.”

  “But…how did…but…how?” I stammered.

  “I won’t gloat,” Jim Harrison said smugly.

  “What made you suspect anything?” I was slowly gathering the pieces of my mind together and putting on the worn, battered, threadbare cloak of accomplished homicide detective. I was not only surprised that I could be shocked after twelve years, but also keenly disappointed that it was this.

  “We had done some routine investigation prior to the election to know exactly what we were dealing with.”

  I shook my head. The ice had stopped briefly. Jim and I sat in his Escalade, the modern equivalent of a Corvette for douchebags, but it did hold its own on the ice-packed streets. We were on an impromptu stakeout at Sheriff Dana Perryman’s home.

  I had returned to the bedroom to embrace Sophie only to be paged out of her arms by the DA. As much as I despised him, even more so since we were supposedly on the same side, I couldn’t blow him off. He suggested we take a ride, and here I was, parked on the street, peering with binoculars through the woods. It was a full moon, made even brighter because it was encircled with ice crystals, like a thick ring of silver glitter.

  Perryman’s yard was luminous with moonlight. The dying bonfire in her side yard was clearly visible. I sighed. “What do you suspect exactly?” I massaged my forehead.

  “At first, it was just the minor hints of possible misdemeanor drug associations.”

  “And now?”

  “I leave the deductions to you, Detective.” Jim’s smile was like a Cheshire cat grimace in the dark.

  “You gonna file charges?”

  “Oh, again, I will let you handle that delicious task.” Jim started the motor.

  “Maybe she’s just burning trash,” I said, my murder muse knowing better. Trash burning was illegal so there was no legal reason to do it.

  “Look at you,” Jim sneered, gliding the vehicle forward down the street and away from the scene of my disappointment. “So high and mighty. So cocksure. So certain,” he hissed, “and now, just a gullible, mortal fool.”

  “Just because you’re right about this doesn’t mean you’re right.”

  “Oh, Jill, Jill, Jill,” Jim said sadly, “that’s where you’re wrong. Again. When will you learn that?” He patted my shoulder. I brushed him away as if his hand were a diseased tarantula. “Acceptance may come slowly for some, but it will come. Book of Harrison, verse 4:28.”

  “I prefer truth,” I said.

  “I am one and the same,” Jim boomed. The car sped too fast on the icy highway.

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your lackeys. I’m not on your payroll.”

  “You don’t have to be on any payroll.”

  “Are you kidding me with this?” I cried. “How would that sound to the Trib? DA threatens detective?”

  “I didn’t threaten you.” Jim’s voice was clean and astonished.

  I pulled the Glock from my shoulder and held it to his head.

  “And neither did I,” I said.

  Jim snorted. “You have the safety on.”

  I cackled. “There’s no safety on this one. The safety is right here.” I used my free hand to point at my own head.

  “Jill, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I know, you got there first,” I said, my jaw clenched.

  “What is this really about?” Jim asked, his voice hot and oily like mayo in the sun. “You want a raise? A promotion?”

  “Let me out here. Now.” I cocked the gun. Jim shrugged, pulled the vehicle to the emergency lane, and sped off as soon as my feet touched the ground.

  I walked two miles back to Sophie’s trying to sort it all out and find some peace.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  When I got there, Alistair was asleep on the couch and Sophie was waiting up in her giant cocoon robe. My skin was convulsively jumping like skittish, flyblown horseflesh, and my teeth were chattering hard. “Ikint sheel my hands and sheet” my teeth chopped the words.

  “Your extremities are numb?” Sophie put me by the fire. “I’ll run a tub.” She disappeared. I stared longingly at the flames, debating about actually lying down in the center of the blaze. Every muscle in my body was in spasm with the effort of shivering. A giant clamp of tension had seized my neck. The only thing keeping me awake was my clownish teeth chattering ceaselessly.

  Sophie returned and gently led me to the bathroom where the sunken tub steamed.

  “I’m not taking my clothes off,” I tried to say, but it came out like Ehm naht shakim cuzzoff.

  “I know, baby. Just get in.” Sophie lowered herself with me into the tub. She still wore her huge robe, which got soaked immediately like an enormous sponge.

  The hot water was glorious. Like sweet air to a drowning person. I began to relax. My skin released and my muscles melted. My jaws stopped clicking. The clamp on my neck dissolved. I was overcome again with drowsiness.

  “No, don’t go to sleep.” Sophie removed her robe, letting it sink to the bottom of the tub like a wounded ship. She floated on top of me. I grinned goofily. “Okay, you get sex started and I’ll catch up.”

  She slapped me lightly. “Come on, wake up.”

  I kept my eyes closed, drifting dreamily in a womb of warmth. “I didn’t take pills,” I slurred drowsily. “You don’t have to keep me awake.”
>
  Without warning, I felt a crash of frigid water hit my feet as Sophie turned on the cold tap. “You’ll drown, dumbass. Get up.”

  She stood, pulled me to stand, and I knew I was in bad shape when I wanted sleep more than sex. I was like a somnolent child as she dried my body and dressed me in baggy flannel pajamas that had rocket ships all over them. “Don’t ask,” she said when I fingered the material. She wrapped herself in another robe cocoon and we walked to bed, which is the last thing I remember.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  When I woke up, Sophie was gone. Sunshine filled the room and made me giddy like helium, but it was still cold. I put on my parka and boots and went to the kitchen.

  “Morning,” I said to Sophie and Alistair. Sophie was stirring a pot on the stove and Alistair sat at the table with a newspaper. “What’s different in here?” I sniffed. “Something’s different.”

  “There are those legendary detective skills springing into action,” Alistair said, reaching over to the switch plate on the wall and flicking it on and off. The light actually worked.

  “Power?” I shrieked.

  “That’s it, splendid,” Alistair said.

  I poured a mug of coffee and sat at the table. “Where’s the heat?”

  “It’s on,” Sophie said, pouring the contents of the pot into two bowls. “It will take a while. Here.” She set a bowl in front of me.

  “And then hell came to breakfast. What is this slop?”

  “Oatmeal. Eat it.”

  “I hate oatmeal.”

  “Everybody does, but believe me, you need it. I was under the covers with you,” Sophie said.

  “Very droll,” I said, pushing the bowl away.

  “Oh? I’ll have it, shall I?” Alistair reached for the oatmeal.

  “Forget it. You won’t eat your way back into Sophie’s bed.” I stuck a spoon into the gluey, gelid mass and stirred.

  “Oh, darn. And I was so hoping to.” Alistair shook his newspaper indignantly.

  “Alistair, have mine. I’ll make more.” Sophie smiled.