Bill Hopkins - Judge Rosswell Carew 02 - River Mourn (29 page)

Rosswell left Ollie
and Alessandra
, who busied themselves with tying up Susannah and Frankie
Joe before hustling Tina to the hospital.

Rosswell scrambled up the hill and planted himself in
the spot where Gustave busted Nathaniel early Friday morning. Now, after the
alarms stopped, echoes pounded inside Rosswell’s brain like sledgehammers
banging on a tin roof.

Scattered raindrops fell from dark clouds. A breeze
blew up the hill, bringing ashes from the remains of the wildfire, tainting the
air with the stale smell of burnt forest.

Rosswell plodded forward, hoping he made no noise although
with the ringing in his ears he remained uncertain if his progress sounded like
a mouse or an elephant.

At the top of the hill, he pinpointed Jim Bill through
the binoculars. The lawman was poised at the sunroom’s door with Nathaniel
blocking it. Both parties made heated gestures. No doubt Jim Bill demanded
entry to investigate the raucous sounds he heard while Nathaniel countered that
the noises were yet another false alarm, caused by a faulty system. Nathaniel
didn’t appear armed.

Turk, cradling something that Rosswell couldn’t make
out, rushed to Nathaniel’s back. Turk also began gesticulating and yelling.
That’s when Turk’s pistol became visible.

Jim Bill punched Turk in the chest with his
forefinger. Turk responded by latching onto Jim Bill’s finger, bending it backward,
causing Jim Bill to kneel. Astounded that the cop had made such a simple error
as letting a bad guy grab his hand, Rosswell focused the binoculars on Nathaniel,
who merely stood there, as if waiting for Turk to do something else.

Turk did something else.

He shot Jim Bill.

Rosswell drew his pistol and bolted toward Jim Bill,
gaining the doorway of the sunroom in seconds. The fire marshal didn’t move. The
1911, even though shaking, remained pointed at Nathaniel. “Talk to me!” Still
no response from Jim Bill, although Rosswell noted he was still breathing. No
apparent bleeding. That was a good sign. In his peripheral vision, Rosswell
glimpsed Turk making circles in the air with the hand holding the gun.

Jim Bill seemed to force his eyes open. “Damn. That hurts.
My chest.”

Amazed that Nathaniel hadn’t stirred a lick, Rosswell
said, “Hands behind your head. Turk, drop your weapon and stick those hands
behind your head.”

Both feet planted far apart, Nathaniel never moved but
merely stood gawking at Rosswell and then down at Jim Bill. Turk continued
making circles in the air with his gun.

Rosswell said, “Both y’all, I need to see those hands
behind your head. Now.”

Turk, with the remaining bits of his brain doubtless
pummeled by meth, made an about-face, then began racing through the hallways,
screeching, firing the gun until it was empty. Rosswell hoped that the doper
hadn’t hit any of the staff or residents, now flooding the hallways and
streaming from the building at every exit. The grounds of the villa rapidly
descended into a small mob scene.

A crackle sounded under what Rosswell knew was Jim
Bill’s Kevlar vest. Jim Bill spoke with difficulty. “Squelch break. Three
shorts. Pause. One short.”

“I already called 9-1-1.”

“Belt.” Jim Bill gasped, breathed shallowly a couple
of times. “And suspenders. Don’t argue.”

Rosswell found the radio, clicked the mike open three
times, waited a heartbeat, then clicked it once more. It had to be the code to
the backup officers standing by to get their butts on the scene. In the distance,
sirens blasted from every direction.

“Jim Bill, they’re coming. I don’t see any blood. That’s
good.”

“Feels like a baseball bat hit my chest.” Jim Bill
rolled to his side. “Don’t let Nathaniel escape.”

Rosswell jumped up and stuck his pistol in Nathaniel’s
face. “You’re under arrest for murder. But I’d love to see you try to escape. I’ll
blast your ugly white mug all over creation. Run.”

Why the hell isn’t Nathaniel reacting?

Never uttering a word, Nathaniel scuttled off to his
left into another room.

Rosswell, cursing himself for not shooting when he had
a clear shot, chased Nathaniel from the sunroom into what looked like the
library of a British manor house in one of those old-time movies. In the middle
of the room sat the largest wooden desk Rosswell had ever seen.

Nathaniel Dahlbert slowly rose from behind the center
of the desk. “It would be impolite of me not to say good-bye.”

Both of Rosswell’s shaking hands were necessary to raise
the gun and aim it at Nathaniel’s heart. “I’m going to kill you.” Rosswell,
unable to pull the trigger, blinked sweat from his eyes.

“You can’t shoot. Your heart and brain are open to me
but closed to you.” Nathaniel raised both hands high, although it didn’t look
much like a surrender. The white man with the orange hair smiled, although it
held no friendliness.

“Who was the doctor who helped you kidnap Tina?”

“Why…Doctor Death.”

Rosswell’s finger begged to pull the trigger, but he
held himself in check, giving Nathaniel one final warning. “I’ll shoot you if
you don’t march right out here in front of me with your hands up and drop to
the floor spread eagle where I can—”

An explosion with the decibel level of a stick of
dynamite shook the room. Instantly following the blast, a flash of light
rivaling the sun ignited before Rosswell’s eyes, followed by a plume of thick, blue
smoke. A stink, not of gunpowder, but of a smell Rosswell remembered from the
times he’d tried barbecuing outside on an old-fashioned grill, only to ignite
the aluminum foil covering it.

Nathaniel had set up a charge of magician’s flash
powder. Potassium perchlorate and ground aluminum dust. And lots of it. Plus
one hell of a percussion blast. Rosswell wondered if he was deaf as well as
blind. The explosion temporarily disoriented him. The moment he regained his
sight, Rosswell realized Nathaniel had vanished. Throwing himself across the
desk, Rosswell tumbled to the floor, grasping the lip of a hole a second before
his momentum would’ve hurtled him down into darkness.

Although the smoke had cleared and his flashlight
pierced the gloom, Rosswell couldn’t see the bottom of the pit that had
swallowed Nathaniel.

Cupping his hands behind his ears and yelling, he felt
relief that he could still hear, although the inside of his head sounded like a
convention of insane hand bell ringers.

Nathaniel was gone. Time to head for Tina.

“Having problems, Judge?”

Rosswell jumped to his feet and whirled around. A
small man with a buzz cut and wearing a diamond in his right earlobe aimed a Colt
Anaconda at Rosswell’s stomach.

“Philbert?” Rosswell gaped at the stainless steel
pistol. “That’s a .44 magnum.”

“Sure is.”

“You elephant hunting?”

Before Philbert could answer, a big guy with square
shoulders and bulging eyes lumbered through the door with an identical pistol
pointed at the same spot on Rosswell’s body.

“Theodore?”

Philbert motioned with his gun. “Where’s Nathaniel?”

“Down in that hole behind the desk. A pretty nifty
escape route, if you ask me.”

Theodore said, “We’re not asking you.”

Philbert strolled around the desk, leaned over the
hole, and whistled. “That goes all the way to China.” He cupped his hands
around his mouth. “Anyone down there?” Silence answered him.

Theodore glanced around the room. “Judge, are you the
only one in here?”

“Yes, except for you and Philbert.”

Theodore hadn’t lowered his gun. “Where’s Jim Bill
Evans?”

Were Theodore and Philbert bad guys or good guys?
Rosswell took a chance they were the latter. “At the door of the sunroom. He’s
injured. I used his radio to send a signal. An ambulance
should
be on
the way.”

The ugly stick, a nurse, walked in the room.

Rosswell said, “I know you.”

“You should. I worked in the hospital in Marble Hill,
taking care of your wife.”

“We’re engaged. We haven’t been married yet.”

“Congratulations.”

Rosswell tapped his head. “You’re Gerry Middleton!”

“No.”

“Bobo’s wife!”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s the prosecutor of Cape Girardeau County.”
Rosswell studied her closely. “Priscilla Brewster. That’s what your nametag
read when you worked in the hospital in Marble Hill.”

“If no one needs me here, I’m going to check elsewhere
to see if anyone wants me.”

Because Rosswell was distracted by her red tattooed thumbprint,
she left before he could ask her to check out Jim Bill.

They found Jim Bill where Rosswell had left him. There still
wasn’t a trace of blood, for which Rosswell thanked Whoever happened to be
listening.

Philbert started to turn Jim Bill over. “He’s not
bleeding. Maybe he’s wounded in his back.”

“Jim Bill,” Theodore said. “Can you hear me?”

Jim Bill opened his eyes. “Quit yelling at me.” He
moaned. “I hurt like hell.”

Philbert said, “Where are you hit?”

“Gustave.” Jim Bill managed to indicate a place close
to the garage. “Get that son of a bitch.”

Despite Theodore and Philbert ordering him otherwise, Rosswell
dashed to the garage, his gun at the ready.

Gustave had fled. Rosswell ambled back. Ollie
appeared.

Rosswell grabbed Ollie. “Where’s Tina?”

“She’s safe. After you left, we flagged down an
ambulance. Tina called me to report that she’d made it to the hospital.” His gaze
locked on to the fallen lawman. “Jim Bill, are you okay? Did that bastard shoot
you?”

“Yes. I’m bruised. That’s it. Glad I wore my vest.”

“Serious injuries can still occur even with the use of
a bullet-resistant vest. The effects of transmitted forces through a protective
vest often result in a significant chest contusion, concurrent—” Ollie’s bald
head attracted the aim of Theodore and Philbert’s guns. Ollie fell to the
ground. “I give up. Don’t shoot.”

Rosswell’s mouth unclenched enough to apologize. “Ollie
always talks like that. Not necessary to shoot him.” Rosswell needed to get to
Tina. If he wasn’t mistaken, a migraine was sneaking up on him, making it hard
to think. “I need to go.”

Theodore said to Ollie, “Who are you?”

“Ollie Groton. Judge Carew’s research assistant.”

Alessandra sauntered onto the scene. “Hey, boys. Momma’s
sad you all left. She said you were the best guests she’d had in a long time.
Quiet. Didn’t cause any trouble.” Apparently, she hadn’t seen Jim Bill until
she looked behind Theodore and Philbert. “Oh, my God. Jim Bill, you okay?” She
rushed to his side. Again, Jim Bill explained his injuries.

Alessandra, still by Jim Bill’s side, said to Theodore
and Philbert, “You boys sure have big guns. Times are hard. One shot and the
fight’s over. Can’t waste taxpayers’ money.”

Alessandra’s statements confused Rosswell. “Taxpayers?
They’re auditors. Do taxpayers pay for armed accountants?”

Jim Bill said, “Judge, did you set off another alarm?”

“Several. You may have heard.”

Theodore examined Jim Bill again. “An ambulance is on
the way. Don’t move. You’re looking good, but don’t move.” He put his hand on
Jim Bill’s shoulder.

Jim Bill looked over the people gathered around him as
if he was taking inventory. “Is everyone safe?”

Rosswell knelt by Jim Bill. “You did a great job. Everyone’s
safe.”

Theodore said, “Judge, we found something really
interesting down there around the cave. Do you want to guess what it was?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess,” Philbert said.

Rosswell rubbed the back of his neck. “If you all are
going to kill me with twenty questions, then get it over with. I’m exhausted.”

“Kill you?” Theodore scoffed. “Why would we want to
kill our fishing buddy?”

“Tell me what you’re talking about. I’m smack out of
guesses.”

Philbert let out a disgusted sigh. “You don’t know
anything about the three people bound with clothesline and wrapped up in duct
tape?”

“Yes, I do. Charlie Heckle, Susannah Acorn, and Frankie
Joe Acorn. They’re felons.”

“Felons?” Philbert cocked his head. “You don’t say.
Felons?” He caught Theodore’s attention. “Man says three jokers we handed off
to the patrol are
felons
.”

Theodore’s mouth dropped open. “No shit?
Felons
?
”

Rosswell said, “What the hell is going on here?”

Theodore said, “Like you said, you—we thought it was
Jim Bill—signaled us to get our butts down here to help him out. Guess that you
didn’t need much help.”

Philbert said, “Except, Judge Rosswell Carew, you let
the main bad boy escape.”

Ollie’s cell phone beeped a text message alert. He tapped
Rosswell on his arm and showed him the message. “You should get to the hospital
right quick.”

“Is it bad?” Rosswell read the message.

Ollie said, “Not if you don’t mind being called Daddy,”
but Rosswell was already gone.