Courting Murder

by Bill Hopkins

picture.”

  Rosswell clicked to a shot of the corpse and showed it to Nadine. “What did everyone else call her?”

  Nadine took a deep breath. “It’s her.” She hitched a sob, deep in her chest. Ollie said, “What’s her name?”

  “Ambrosia Forcade.”

   Chapter Thirty

  Saturday afternoon, continued

  Sitting alone in headquarters, Rosswell fumed in both sadness and disgust at Nadine and Ollie.

  When Nadine had identified Ambrosia, Rosswell said, “Ollie told me that according to her secretary, Ambrosia’s in North Carolina at some kind of legal seminar.”

  “No, she’s not,” Nadine said. “Her body’s either stuck on the deadfall or she got swept away to God knows where.” She shuddered.

  “Thanks, Nadine. I’ll tell Frizz.” They’d both been playing Rosswell, angling for some kind of promise that he couldn’t give them. “Now leave, the both of you,” he’d ordered them, but not in a stern voice.

  Ollie handed Rosswell his statement and a huge report he’d finished earlier. “After I clean up, I’m heading to Merc’s. Happy reading.”

  Roswell said, “I thought you wanted to go to the emergency room.”

  “I’m checking into a motel,” Nadine said. “I haven’t been this dirty since I was a kid.”

  Roswell said, “Oh, you’re feeling a lot better?”

  Ollie said, “We’re leaving.”

  “Great,” Rosswell said, “as long as you both keep out of trouble.”

  Nadine left first. Rosswell caught Ollie by the sleeve and pulled him back into the station.

  “Ollie, I don’t believe for one minute that Nadine is clear of these murders. We still don’t know how many murderers there were. I can see a scenario where Candy and Nadine were the killers.”

  “Nadine seemed awfully upset about Ambrosia.”

  “Seemed. Nadine is in sales. She’s got to be a good actress. There could’ve been a falling out among local dope pushers. It’s been known to happen.”

  “I’ll keep snooping.”

  After Ollie left, Rosswell rustled up a pot of coffee made as strong as he could get it. He poured a cup, adding sugar to the steaming liquid until it became syrupy. After lightly salting it, he gathered up both statements and Ollie’s report, sucked in a few mouthfuls of the sainted brew, and read the statements through. Twice. He didn’t want any weird stuff in there. Neither statement contained anything about Nadine’s dope pushing. Rosswell hadn’t included it either. The words on the crinkly yellow paper showed him that at least all three had agreed on lying by omission.

  Rosswell peeked in on Candy. She’d turned on her side, her mouth open slightly, a gentle snoring noise emanating from her nose. Exhaustion had overtaken her. Rip-roaring around in the woods, shooting at the trio, then escaping, left her beyond tired.

  Although she’d tried killing three people that day, her face appeared almost angelic. Hell of an actress.

  Around two o’clock, Purvis and Frizz bounded through the door.

  Rosswell asked, “Did you find anything on the deadfall?”

  “It was the male,” Frizz said. He was soaked from his hat to his boots. “From what Johnny Dan and Purvis tell me, I’m betting it’s Eddie Joe Deckard. Neal’s doing the autopsy.”

  Purvis, also sopping wet from head to toe, said, “We’ll know for sure after the autopsy.”

  Yes, that’s generally the result of an autopsy. After an autopsy, you know more than before you started it.

  Rosswell said, “I know who the female was.”

  Purvis and Frizz crowded near to Rosswell, dripping nasty river water on his head.

  Frizz said, “Judge, I’m real close to throwing your ass in jail for all the trouble you’ve caused me. Stop stalling and tell me.”

  Rosswell told them everything that Nadine had said. Then he added, “Now think about it. There’s no way to tell if she’s telling the truth until we find the body. Ambrosia could be hiding out in Mexico for all we know.”

  “We,” said Frizz. “You keep saying ‘we’ like you’re included. You’re not included.”

  Rosswell eyed Purvis but spoke to Frizz. “Sheriff, I need to ask you something important.”

  Taking the hint, Purvis said, “I’m leaving.” His shoes squished when he left the station.

  Through the front window of the sheriff’s station, Rosswell and Frizz watched Purvis, Scooby peeking out of his shirt, climb on to the motorcycle.

  Rosswell asked, “How did he keep that little bitty dog from drowning when he was prowling around the deadfall?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to ask.”

  Frizz said, “What do you want?”

  “Two things. First, check out these statements. If you don’t like them, I’ll get Nadine and Ollie back in here to write them to your satisfaction.”

  “They’re gone?” Frizz viewed the office as if he had just then noticed that Rosswell was the only one around the dispatcher’s desk.

  “They outlived their usefulness.”

  “Starting to piss you off?”

  “You could say that.”

  Frizz perused both statements, undoubtedly searching for any mention by Nadine of her dope growing operation. When he finished his study, he said, “Y’all were behind the door at the top of the steps the whole time?” Knowing Frizz, Rosswell would bet that he had the statements memorized.

  “Yep.” A lie.

  “You didn’t go down in the basement?”

  “Nope.” Another lie. “We stayed at the top of the steps the whole

  time.” A third lie.

  “Even though someone was shooting at you, you stayed behind the door at the top of the steps?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “What kept the bullets from going through the door?”

  “It was a fire door. It was thick enough to stop bullets. It’s in the statement.”

  “You’re alive even though somebody with an AK-47 was blasting you, with only a door standing between you and the shooter?”

  “I’m here to testify that’s what happened. It was a heavy metal door. Bulletproof.”

  Frizz stapled each of the statements and placed them in a folder.

  “You’re a lousy liar.” He wrote on the tab of the file folder DUMBARTON NADINE.

  “What’re you saying?”

  “An investigator from the fire marshal’s office is headed to Nadine’s right now. There’s no way that the fire destroyed all the evidence of her dope growing.”

  “Dope growing?” Rosswell tried sounding astounded. However, as Rosswell thought, Frizz wasn’t fooled. Why Nadine had tried to convince Rosswell that Frizz didn’t know about her doping was a puzzle. Except that maybe it was as simple as her wanting to protect him. He wanted to protect her. The feeling was mutual, which isn’t at all unusual between lovers.

  “Can it,” Frizz said. “The fire marshal will see what’s left of a hydroponic garden, not to mention the heavy-duty doors and windows which were bulletproof. He’s going to want to know why her house was equipped with something like that.”

  Busted.

  “Nadine saved three lives. Mine, hers, and Ollie’s. I don’t give a crap if she was cooking meth. If it hadn’t been for her, then we all three would be dead.”

  “I’ve noticed something about you.” Frizz pulled off his wet boots and removed his socks. “People with killing on their minds follow you around. If you hadn’t gone out there, nobody would’ve been shooting at her.”

  “And she’d still have her dope garden.”

  Frizz pulled the wet shirt out of his pants and took off his sodden hat. “What was the other thing you needed to know?”

  “Do you believe Nadine about the second body? The female?”

  “You’ve lied to me but you’ll get no lies from me on that one. I don’t know. It’s odd that no one’s been reported missing around here, yet not so odd. The woman coul
d’ve been from California or New York for all I know. There are a million missing people in this country. We may never know who she is.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  “I’ll check out Ambrosia’s house and all her acquaintances. Even if a hundred percent of them say they don’t know anything, that doesn’t mean that she’s the body.”

  “Ollie and I could do some more snooping.”

  “Rosswell, do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Go home. Rest up. Your wound hasn’t healed, what with you running all over the county stirring up shit.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before and, while I appreciate your concern, I’ve got lots to do.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Frizz winked at Rosswell. “I wouldn’t know what to do with all the peace and quiet if you weren’t around.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do. Go see Tina and then straight home to bed.”

  Once more, Rosswell hated himself for lying to the sheriff.

  Frizz said, “As I said earlier, you’re a lousy liar.”

  “Are you revoking my deputy’s commission?”

  Frizz only laughed.

  Rosswell headed for the door. “Check on Candy. She snores a lot.”

   Chapter Thirty-one

  Saturday afternoon, continued

  There was no question that one other person besides the fire marshal was bound to show up where Rosswell was going, that he was sure of. All he had to do was wait at Nadine’s house.

  After he’d left Frizz, he stayed by Tina’s side for a couple of hours. She was awake, although still groggy. Rosswell had difficulty believing that any anesthesia affected a healthy person the way it had Tina. While in her room, he’d tried calling several doctors, including Hakim Al Serafi. No doctor kept office hours on Saturdays. Or Sundays. He’d start calling