Death of the Weed Merchant

by Robert G Rogers

Don shook his head. “Only partially the case. What really happened, I’m sorry to say, and I apologize to you for kind of being a part of it. The day he died was Egg Bowl day.”

  Stan nodded his head, fully aware of what day it was when his brother died.

  “Big game,” Don said. “I owed the head of your brother’s frat house a favor, so I brought by some weed and put out a few lines of coke. They all started horsing around, goading each other to smoke a joint and to snort a line. Your brother at first refused. Big time. But eventually he broke down, to be a good sport he said, and lit up. Then, he snorted a line. He should have waited a while before driving, but he didn’t. He was practically flying when he left the frat house with his girlfriend. I could tell she was worried. She’d never seen him like that. Then he hit a tree or something, maybe a utility pole, I don’t remember. Killed him. Damn! I felt like shit.”

  Stan interrupted him to say, “I don’t guess he had ever been like that.”

  It was Don’s turn to shake his head. “I feel damn sorry. It was … well, at least, partially my fault.”

  I’d say you’re right, Stan thought.

  “Well,” Stan said to finish up the conversation. The man had apologized. It was time to end it unless he still had the second reason to talk about. Maybe not. “Good luck to you. I thank you for dropping by. Thanks for telling me the whole story of what happened.”

  “Yeah. Uh, I also had a favor to ask,” Don said.

  Shit. A favor. The second reason he’d stopped by. What the hell is it?

  Stan nodded for the man to tell him what it was.

  Don pointed to the box on the floor. “I’m going to see my folks outside of Oxford. I told you I have competitors. I also have cops watching for me up there. I don’t want either one, cops or the competitors, to catch me with that box.”

  Don told Stan that the box contained about 400 one-gram bags of cocaine that had a street value of almost fifty thousand dollars.

  “Each bag has enough coke for ten lines. I sell the bags to my street dealers for upwards of fifty bucks each. They sell it for what the traffic will bear. You can see why I don’t want to be caught with it. The competition would shoot me in a second with or without the coke, but they’d be more inclined if I had some they could take. And the cops would throw me in a cell, and who knows where the coke would end up. Cops like a snort too,” he said with a smile.

  “So, you want me to keep the box for you,” Stan said.

  “Would you?”

  Shit. I guess I will. Hell, maybe I can sell some. Margo might want to add coke to the pot she’s getting. Might make some bucks out of it.

  “Hell, now and then, I have a client who asks if I know anybody selling any. What if somebody comes in? You know what I mean?” Stan asked him suggesting that he could tell his client somebody with coke who did come in.

  “Hell, sell ‘em some. Street value, say, quote a hundred a bag. If the guy asking wants some to sell, tell him you may be able to get him some for … use fifty or sixty, a bag. You can negotiate. He’ll sell it for a hundred but give you fifty or whatever you agree on.”

  “I doubt I’ll have any demand for it by anybody but good to know the price just in case.”

  That ended their meeting and Don left.

  Afterward, Stan put the box in his office closet and locked the door. Leann never asked about it, for which he was glad. He didn’t have to tell her a lie.

  The next batch of weed he left at Margo’s included a note that said, “coke” was available if she were interested.

  After he’d done that, he decided he’d try a “line” for himself. He opened one bag and, being unfamiliar, poured a fat line and snorted it. He felt like the top of his head was going to lift off. He had never felt so excited in his life. He was practically dancing around his office. He even made a half-way pass at Leann.

  The bloom had worn off by the end of the day but he knew he’d try another line soon. Too good to ignore.

  *****

  That night, Shelly talked with Stan about her day. “Your secretary, Leann Barkley, was at the hospital.”

  “What? She doesn’t have a problem, does she?” Stan asked.

  “Oh no! Her doctor just sent her in for some tests. Part of her annual exam. Her tests looked okay to me, but I told her she needed to see her Doctor to go over the results. People are always asking me, but I’m not qualified to interpret results, you know.”

  “I’m glad to hear that she’s okay.”

  “She is. We talked. She said she wonders how you’re paying all of your expenses these days. You’re not seeing that many clients, she says. You’re doing better in terms of clients, but not by much. So – how are you doing it, Stan? You seem happy … like your practice has picked up. I think you said it had.”

  “I did. Well, it has picked up. I think it’ll pick up more as I go along.”

  “Leann says you’re paying her yourself these days. Your Dad had been paying her salary. She’s glad he’s not doing that anymore. Says he was a real skin flint,” she said.

  “He was. Still is. But I’m making enough to pay her myself now, so dad’s off the hook.”

  “She was just wondering. I was curious so I thought I’d ask.”

  “No problem, Shelly. I’m making enough to support the office. I just took over paying the bills so I’d have a better understanding of how I’m doing.” He didn’t add anything about how he was, or his latest “product,” the coke.

  “That’s good,” she said, but was still puzzled. Leann had said she didn’t see how enough fees came in for him to pay her salary let alone all the other bills. But Stan should know. If he has enough to pay the bills, he must be doing okay. And Leann isn’t there all the time.

  Stan also had some thoughts. Who would’a thought Leann would be that aware about what’s going on? I’ll let on to her about clients I see on the days she doesn’t come in. She’ll assume they pay me. I’ll tell her they come in for consultation. No file is necessary.

  That guy Bryant did call today. Wants to come in for a talk. I guess he could be considered a client if push comes to shove. Maybe he has problems. If he’s working with Margo, which I’d put money on, he’ll have enough money to pay my fee. I’d better see him when Leann’s not working. Who knows what he’ll say?

  Shelly told him how she was recommending him to everyone she came into contact with. “I give them one of your cards,” she said, smiling.

  He thanked her. If somebody wanted a will, he could whip one out. The computer was full of forms. And he knew that once they consulted about one thing they’d come back for other things. He needed more clients for sure. That’d stop people like his secretary from wondering where his money was coming from.

  Maybe I’d be better off without Leann. Just bring in somebody when I need some real secretarial work done. I’d better think about that. I sure as hell don’t want her asking questions about how much money I’m making.

  He didn’t talk with Shelly anymore about the office. Shelly had cooked spaghetti so they ate that and watched a television show. He complimented her on a great dinner.

  What Shelly didn’t tell him about were the calls she’d been getting from Freddie. His first call was just to say hello and to tell her how much he enjoyed playing against her in the tournament. The calls accelerated from that to calls about having coffee, and a getting her photo for his album and then finally to dinner dates. She accepted, including the one to his condo for drinks on the balcony that looked out over the river. And he’d mentioned that word – marriage. She had stayed the night that time.

  Naturally, she told her parents after her first dinner with Freddie. Her mother was more interested than her father. Both knew of Freddie, having seen him on television after one of his big legal victories. The fact that Stan couldn’t seem to make up his mind about what he wanted to do encouraged them to endorse Freddie’s efforts. However her father, who knew of Freddie’s womanizing ways, urged her to be cautious. “I …
uh, you know, I wouldn’t … get too close to him … well, until he puts a ring on your finger. You’ll know he’s serious then,” he said.

  He was concerned that Freddie just wanted another conquest and would abandon her after he’d gotten it. He was a man and knew how men thought, not always with the head on their shoulders.

  She said she understood, but felt she had to cooperate with a man’s needs in order to keep him interested enough to propose marriage. She didn’t tell her dad that however.

  *****

  Kathy had learned about Freddie’s interest in Shelly when she came into the library and told one of her friends. Kathy was logging in books and couldn’t help but hear Shelly telling the friend what was happening.

  Kathy told Bishop about it that evening because of Bishop’s confrontation with the man.

  Bishop said, “I’ll be. I saw him sniffing around the girl at the tournament. I even made a remark about her to him but for some reason, I felt she was too young for him. I guess if they can walk, they’re old enough. I wonder what her other boyfriend has to say about it?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know,” she suggested.

  “Old Freddie isn’t satisfied with a conquest until he lets the other guy know he’s bested him … you know, how he’s taken his woman from him and made her his. I think it’s a psychological disorder. I think he took up boxing to take care of any man who objects to him. Not everybody’s gonna roll over.”

  She didn’t disagree.

  “Keep me posted if you hear anything else,” he said. “May be of use to me.”

  She said she would.

  Chapter 8

  Margo called Stan after she’d read his note. “Tell your client I’ve been asked if we have any coke. I guess that note about what he was charging and what it’s worth on the street, came from him?”

  Stan said, “It did, but Let me see if I can find my notes to make sure.” He opened a drawer and made noise with papers before saying, “Here they are. He says he can sell dealers one gram bags of powdered coke for $60 a bag. Said you get ten lines out of one bag. I’ve seen that on tv. Said something about ‘8 balls’ being a better value, whatever the hell that is. He says the street value is what the market will bear. Are you interested? I can try and reach him. He was headed for New Orleans.”

  “An “8 ball” is about three and a half grams I think,” she said.

  “Well, that’s all I know,” Stan said.

  “Sure, I can sell some bags of coke. Probably have to offer it at a hundred, maybe a hundred and ten or more on the street to take care of the pushers.”

  “Means nothing to me, Margo. How many bags do you want? I’ll have to tell him.”

  “Tell him I can use twenty bags to start. Might take a few weeks to sell it.”

  “I get the impression that he’s not a patient man,” Stan said.

  “Well, I’ll pay him for each bag we sell. Might take a few weeks to build the buyers,” Margo said.

  “I’ll tell him. If he agrees, he’ll probably include the coke with the pot he leaves by your door,” Stan said.

  “Good.”

  After she’d hung up, Stan poured himself another line of the white powder and enjoyed a new high.

  “Damn!” he said when he felt it.

  Although he didn’t know it yet, he was already hooked. He took to the coke more and more frequently after that.

  Two days later, Stan left the usual amount of pot plus twenty bags of the coke Don had left.

  *****

  Freddie called Stan to rub it in about his conquest of Shelly, as Bishop had correctly predicted. It was after Shelly had spent the night at his condo.

  Stan identified himself after he’d picked up the phone. Freddie did the same and said, “I thought I’d be a gentleman and tell you what I’ve been doing with Shelly. I know she’s too worried about your feelings to tell you.”

  “What? What are you talking about? Shelly?”

  “Yes. She kind of got interested in me during the tennis tournament. Started calling. I was surprised … well not much, but some. I liked her too. We kind of hit it off. Started seeing each other. We have a lot in common.”

  “I … you … she hasn’t said anything about it to me. I think you’re some kind of predator. I’ve heard about you, Meyers. You should be horsewhipped. Worse.”

  Freddie laughed. It pleased him that Stan was upset. “Don’t even think about it, Stanley.” He deliberately used his full name. “Bigger men than you have tried and didn’t walk away satisfied. Most had to be helped.” He laughed again. “But it you want to have a go, set a time and a place.”

  Stan hung up.

  That night, he confronted Shelly about the call. He’d snorted a line so he was revved up. Her reaction was one of total embarrassment. She never once thought Freddie would do anything like call Stan. He had done some other things that were bothering her though, questions he’d asked her. They’d made her think his intentions were less than honorable.

  *****

  During their first dinner date, she recalled, Freddie began to talk about her work at the hospital. He casually asked if she knew about the people who died in the hospital. When she said yes, he asked if she could get him their names and why they died. He said he was doing a legal paper and that information would be a valuable part of the paper. She agreed to give him what he’d asked about.

  Not long afterward, she heard about a law suit filed against the hospital claiming improper treatment for one of the patients whose names she’d given him. Freddie was listed as the attorney.

  She had asked him about it. He said it was merely a coincidence, but she wasn’t so sure and became very cautious about what she told him after that.

  *****

  “Freddie Meyer called me today!” Stan shouted at her. “He said you’d been sleeping with him! I thought we were engaged! Aren’t we? What the hell is going on? Is it true? Are you sleeping with the jerk?”

  Why would Freddie do that? She wondered. He’d talked about marriage and she had told him about her engagement to Stan, but Freddie didn’t seem concerned. “I’ll tell him when the time comes,” she had told Freddie the last time he’d mentioned it. Now this. How could he? Her dad was right. I should have been more careful.

  Stan grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Tell me! What have you been doing? I thought we had a decent relationship. I haven’t heard you complain! He says you’re worried about how I’ll take it! Good God, Shelly! How did you think I’d take it? My fiancée sleeping with a womanizer! That’s his reputation!”

  She pulled away and walked into his living room to sit down. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll tell you.” She knew then that Freddie’s intentions were not on the up and up by that time, but she still had to tell Stan what she’d done.

  She sighed. “I did sleep with him one time. He invited me to his condo on the river. We had drinks on his balcony. After a couple of drinks, he offered me a funny looking cigarette and asked me to smoke it. Said it’d make me feel good. I thought it might be … uh, marijuana, but the drinks had affected me enough to try one. It made me feel dizzy and the next thing I knew, I was in his bed with him. I’m sorry. I had no idea he had that in mind when he invited me for drinks.”

  Of course she knew why he had, and was even anticipating it. She had not anticipated smoking the weed however, and it had made her feel funny. He’d also offered her a sniff of white powder which she refused.

  Stan listened and after she’d finished said, “Well, I suppose it’s over between us now. You can leave if you want to.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  He stared at her for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Do you love the guy?”

  She said, “No. He’s totally unethical, untrustworthy.” which was the truth. She had been flattered by his attentions, and had considered the possibility of being married to him, but the way he had acted had turned her off. She told him about the way he wanted to know about patients who’d died while in th
e care of the hospital, and how he’d filed a lawsuit for the survivors of at least one patient who’d died.

  “I made a mistake, Stan. I’m sorry. If you want me to go, I will.”

  “The son of a bitch was using you, Shelly. He’s nothing more than a damn ambulance chaser. Stay. We’ll try to work through it. Might take some time.”

  They slept in the same bed that night but that was all.

  *****

  After Shelly had left for work the next morning, Stan, still upset, called Freddie.

  “I talked to Shelly about you last night! She had some interesting things to say about you! Very interesting! She said you got her drunk and raped her! Some fucking attorney you are! Plus –“

  Freddie interrupted to say, “Hah. It was the other way around. I had a hard time finishing my beer. She was after me to take her to bed. If there was any rape, it was by her.”

  “She told me about the pot and the coke you offered her! You’re totally corrupt!”

  “What crap! Of course she’d tell you that. No woman’s ever gonna tell her man the truth about her affairs.”

  Stan ignored his retort and said, “She also told me that your … let me call it “manliness” didn’t measure up to mine. She said she was embarrassed by what you had to offer. Peanut sized, she said.”

  Freddie laughed. “Yeah. I’d expect that. She wants to hang on to you and still sleep with me when she needs some real lovemaking.”

  “I bet. And, one last thing. One more fucking thing! Something the bar association will want to know about, and I’m gonna love to tell them! How you got information out of her about the patients who died at the hospital. And how right after she told you, you filed suit on behalf of one of them. Your goose is cooked asshole. Pack your bags!”

  Stan hung up before Freddie could reply. His coke hit was leveling out.

  Freddie knew he was filing two more cases. He hadn’t anticipated that it’d leak out like it had and cursed himself. Should have had one of my juniors file them in his name. Made a mistake. Well, I’d better come up with an excuse if he does go to the bar and complain. Damn, first Bone and now this guy. I might get away denying one, but two, unrelated, no way in hell.