Courting Murder

by Bill Hopkins

afternoon, continued

  The worst thing? That could mean only one thing. Rosswell said, “She’s going to kill him?”

  “He’s going to lose his house.”

  There could be worse things than losing your house. Ollie exaggerated on occasion, and this was one of those occasions. People live through foreclosures. Folks don’t live through murder, which is a worse thing than foreclosure.

  Rosswell said, “What a god-awful mess. How did that happen?”

  “His wife spent several house payments on the roulette wheel.”

  Mosquitoes buzzed around Rosswell’s head while he tried reasoning out this mess. Frizz’s wife out of control? This kind of news wouldn’t have been secret for long. One of the bloodsuckers landed on his arm only to suffer the wrath of his hand, smearing its body all over his skin. Where had he been? How had he missed hearing about Frizz’s problem? Wouldn’t Tina have told him something that significant? But that’s why he hired Ollie, to collect info that he’d missed. As best he could, he wiped off the bloody mess.

  Rosswell said, “And Frizz stole money to cover the mortgage? I don’t believe that.”

  “The money is still there. He hasn’t spent it.”

  “Or he hasn’t spent this stash. How long does it take for him to collect that much money? Maybe he’s already used stolen money from an earlier stash to pay the bank.”

  “I don’t know,” Ollie said. “I also don’t know if he stole the money. All I know is what we saw. And I also know I’m staying out of it. If you want to have a chat with Frizz about his finances, you go right ahead.”

  A few of the fairgoers walking by inspected Rosswell and Ollie up and down. Rosswell suspected that after noting how dirty they were, maybe the nice folks had mistaken them for gravediggers.

  At this point, there was absolutely no evidence indicating that Frizz had done anything wrong. Rosswell said, “The money is locked inside headquarters inside the sheriff’s station. Frizz didn’t steal the money. He’s got it in the evidence locker in his office.”

  “So you say.”

  They stood there in silence, taking in the Hogfest people enjoying the day. The noise of the fairgoers had lowered to the level of a small riot.

  “Ollie, you don’t have one single drop of evidence to show that Frizz stole that money.”

  “If his house doesn’t go on the auction block, then we’ll know the missed payments got made. We’ll also know where he got the money. He sure doesn’t have it anywhere else.”

  Ollie’s statements rocketed to the stratosphere of fantasy. Rosswell asked himself how Ollie could’ve known the state of Frizz’s finances. Frizz could’ve left his checkbook lying around in headquarters, but even that wouldn’t give a full measure of Frizz’s financial health. Ollie had merely winged a guess. That, Rosswell concluded, was the answer.

  “You don’t know how much money Frizz has,” Rosswell said. “Your speculation is rampant.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s also correct.”

  “And you’re basing it on the gossip you picked up at Merc’s.”

  “You and I have an agreement. I tell you everything and you don’t ask where I got the info.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Nadine said, “Y’all don’t know the whole story.”

  Ollie and Rosswell both whirled around, confronting Nadine. Neither of them uttered a word. She beat them to the punch.

  Nadine said, “Before you ask, I heard everything. Y’all would make lousy spies.”

  Rosswell said, “And you know the whole story?”

  “Whole and entire.”

  Ollie said, “Spill it.”

  “I’m not telling you two jokers anything. You’d have it spread all over Bollinger County before sunset.”

  Rosswell spoke to Nadine without obvious begging or pleading. Or tried to. “The three of us could have a lot to lose if we screw around with Frizz and his personal problems.” Labeling the situation delicate would’ve been a gross understatement.

  “Stealing,” Ollie said, “is not a personal issue. It’s a crime.” He squeaked. “Judge.”

  “Yeah,” said Nadine. “What we’ve done or haven’t done won’t give Frizz a free get-out-of-jail card.”

  Although Rosswell doubted that Ollie or Nadine would bring up Frizz’s possible crimes in public, it was obvious that they were both fishing for something.

  There were too many people on the square. It wouldn’t do for the trio to be discussing their criminal leanings while standing in the middle of a street fair. Someone might hear them.

  Rosswell said, “Let’s get inside.” Once back in the sheriff’s station, he faced the two and flat-out asked them, “What do you want?”

  Ollie said, “I’d prefer never to see the inside of a jail cell the rest of my life.”

  Nadine said, “I’ve never seen the inside of a cell and I don’t want to. Ever.”

  “Then what’s the deal?” Rosswell asked.

  Nadine said, “Ollie, you go first.”

  Ollie said, “I’ve kept my mouth shut up until now. You go first.” Nadine drew in a deep breath, wiped some of the crud from her face, and said, “Frizz and I are lovers.”

  In order to keep his knees from crumbling and tossing him to the floor, Rosswell leaned against the counter. Nadine was right. He’d have made a lousy spy. Frizz was no angel, and Rosswell had never thought the sheriff was a candidate for sainthood. In fact, if it got out that he and Nadine were screwing their brains out, no one in the county would’ve cared come election time. Maybe fifty or sixty years ago it would’ve made a difference, but adultery was too common these days. Common evil loses its shock value.

  Rosswell said, “Save me one illusion.”

  Nadine said, “Which one?”

  “Frizz didn’t know about your dope dealing.” Rosswell held his breath, waiting for the answer.

  “He did not.”

  Nadine was lying. Frizz had called the three of them two drunks and a doper. The sheriff knew about her doping and probably her dealing. Frizz wanted to protect his honey.

  Ollie said, “I could’ve told you that. Your garden was one of the best kept secrets around. I never heard a whiff of anything connecting you with dope.”

  Nadine said, “The news media likes to portray dope dealers as stupid and violent. Most of the time, that’s true. With me, I’m smart enough to keep my business dealings low key.”

  Rosswell said, “Business dealings? I thought you said the dope was for medicinal uses. Or recreational uses.”

  Nadine said, “You need a business to get your product into the market stream.”

  I don’t trust you, Nadine. You’re too damned glib.

  Rosswell mulled over Frizz’s anger at being left in the dark by Purvis and Johnny Dan. Frizz’s rage may’ve been partially fueled by the sheriff’s realization at how easy it was to keep a dope dealer secret. If the sheriff could keep Nadine’s dope operation secret, then Purvis and Johnny Dan could’ve kept Eddie Joe’s doping secret.

  “And now,” Rosswell said, “you want me to assure you that you’ll never be prosecuted for dope dealing the rest of your life? No deal.”

  “No,” she said. “I want you to forget what I’ve done up to now. If you catch me doing something in the future, then I’ll face the music.”

  Rosswell said, “I’m not giving you any kind of guarantee.”

  Ollie said, “We already said we never saw anything.” He touched their written statements. “I didn’t put a single word in mine about pot.”

  “Nor I,” Rosswell said.

  “That’s all I ask,” Nadine said.

  Rosswell turned to Ollie. “What do you want?”

  “You got me into this mess by showing me a weird ring with a Latin inscription. That’s my own stupidity. I don’t want anything.”

  “You’re not stupid,” Rosswell said. “But you’re both lying.”

  Nadine said, “Why would I lie to you?” />
  Ollie said, “Judge, I haven’t lied to you.”

  “One last thing.” Nadine’s eyes shined. Rosswell knew she was on the verge of crying. After all this and she was just now crying? “I’ve got a bad feeling. Someone I know should’ve been calling me but hasn’t.”

  Ollie said, “Happens to the best of us.”

  Rosswell made the slice across the throat gesture again. “Nadine saved your life. Quit with the crap giving.”

  Ollie said to Nadine, “One of your friends dumped you. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “No one dumped me,” Nadine said. “My friend is gone. An unexplained absence.”

  Rosswell said, “What’s his name?”

  Nadine said. “Do you have photos of the bodies?”

  “You think your friend was one of the murder victims?” Rosswell retrieved his camera from Vicky. “They’re in here. They’re not pretty.”

  “I just need to check,” Nadine said.

  “Repulsive,” Ollie said. “You don’t want to look at them.”

  Nadine rubbed her face with her hands. Dirt and ashes sifted to the floor. “Was she wearing a dress?”

  “She?” Rosswell said.

  “The female corpse. Was she wearing a dress?”

  Ollie said, “You know who it is, don’t you?”

  Rosswell said, “She was wearing a yellow sundress and red high heels.” Nadine whispered, “Babe.”

  Rosswell said, “Babe?”

  “Yes,” said Nadine. “We had a business relationship but we were also friends. Her close friends called her Babe.”

  Ollie said, “What do you mean everyone called her Babe? I’ve never heard of anyone around here named Babe.”

  “I didn’t say everyone called her Babe,” Nadine said. “Only her intimate friends knew that nickname. Let me see the