Bill Hopkins - Judge Rosswell Carew 02 - River Mourn

by Bill Hopkins

  “Perhaps we can jog your memory.” Jim Bill nodded in the direction of the bookcase. “Rosswell, please do the honors.”

  According to plan, Rosswell stood. After he reached the back wall, he rubbed his hands along the piano hinges on the bookcase. “Have you ever noticed these before?”

  Alessandra peered closely. “They’re some kind of decoration. Copper or bronze.”

  “Brass. They’re hinges.” Rosswell poked the spot that mattered and the bookcase door swung open.

  Alessandra shot up, only to stumble backward, press her palms against her cheek, and moan. “What is that?”

  Jim Bill rose and stepped into the passageway. “A real secret tunnel!”

  Rosswell had to spill the information he’d learned. “It’s not secret. You can visit the courthouse where its existence is documented. It goes straight until it ends at a brick wall down there. That’s where I found the map showing the tunnels running from Karyn and Jill’s houses to Nathaniel’s house.”

  Alessandra said, “Karyn and Jill? Who are they?”

  Rosswell said, “They’re waitresses who work for Mabel. They’re also midwives.”

  Alessandra’s throat clicked when she swallowed. “The passageway triggers a memory. One night I awoke and saw something.”

  Rosswell stepped closer to Alessandra. “Do you remember what you saw?”

  “Now I do. I got up out of bed and opened the door.” She wiped her face, blinked, and drew in a deep breath. “That was unusual because I was on lockdown. If you’re on lockdown, the rule is your door is bolted from the outside. The only way to get out is to ring a buzzer and somebody comes and opens the door. That night there was a thunderstorm and all the lights were out. Dark everywhere. The only light was when the lightning flashed. The place is supposed to have a backup generator. I heard people off in the distance arguing about why the generator wasn’t coming on.”

  Jim Bill held up a hand. “You were fully awake by then?”

  “Definitely.” Alessandra rubbed her head. “I wandered the halls in the dark. I tried every door but they were all locked. Except one. I went in a room where I could see someone on the other side of a glass.”

  Rosswell kept his peace. This was Jim Bill’s show and he didn’t want to screw it up.

  “A window?”

  “A window in a wall that looked into another room.”

  “How could you see if the power had been cut off?”

  Alessandra said, “One of those night light things that comes on when the electricity goes out was in a wall socket. It was dim, but I could see someone through the glass. It was me. I was pregnant. Asleep on a bed in a room. It was a nice bedroom. Clean. Whoever had me in that room cared about my baby. Not like a prison, except it was plain. No decorations. No pictures on the wall. Then I realized that it was a one-way mirror I was looking through.”

  Alessandra walked to a window and pressed her hand against the pane. When she returned to Rosswell and Jim Bill, she was crying. “Then it was morning and I was in my own bed.”

  Rosswell said, “Were you pregnant when you were there?”

  “I’ve never been pregnant in my life.”

  Jim Bill continued the interrogation. “What did it smell like? The room with the mirror. Did it have an odor?”

  Alessandra stared down the passageway, as if that would help her remember an aroma. “Yes.” She focused on Rosswell. “I’d forgotten about that. It smelled damp. Like wet dirt. The air was cool—not stale, yet not fresh—and it was a wet smell. Not like a river. More like a…I don’t know…a—”

  “Cave?”

  “Yes!” She smiled. “That’s it exactly. It smelled like a cave.”

  Chapter 38

  Monday Night, continued

  Now can we go rescue Tina?” Rosswell drew his gun, found it fully loaded, then checked his cell phone, found it fully charged. He hit a new speed dial number. “Ollie, meet us at Jill’s house. The game’s afoot, Watson. Bring the Gold King’s collection.” He clicked off.

  “Judge?” Jim Bill looked from Rosswell to Alessandra, then back again.

  “What?”

  “What’s with the Sherlock Holmes stuff?”

  “You’ll have to trust me.”

  “You’re putting me in a bad position.”

  Rosswell thumped an index finger into Jim Bill’s chest with every word. “I’m going to get Tina. After I do that, then you can arrest me.” He dashed from the parlor, rushed down the hallway, zoomed out the front door, then leaped into Sofia. The car started. “Yes!”

  Jim Bill, sweat rolling down his face, appeared at the driver’s side and placed a hand on the door handle. “We don’t have that one last piece of information. I can’t let you do this.” His tone of voice indicated that negotiation was out of the question.

  “Let me do what?”

  “Go barrel assing into a private citizen’s house with a gun on a suspicion that you’re going to find Tina.”

  “A suspicion? Alessandra didn’t see herself in that bedroom. She saw Tina. Stand back. I need to rescue a woman.”

  Alessandra, who’d followed the men out, caught Rosswell’s attention. “How do you know who I saw?”

  “You’re not pregnant but Tina is.”

  “I didn’t see Tina.”

  Rosswell cut off Sofia. He stared toward the river, then across the street to the park. The sun settled in behind the bluffs. Night birds cooed. A whippoorwill started his love call. The lights would soon flicker on in the park. He got out of the car.

  Alessandra looked as though she’d lost all her nervousness. Jim Bill remained solid and silent. Now it was Rosswell who sweated in the humid evening. He put a fist to his forehead. Something had to convince Jim Bill and Alessandra that Tina was in the house. The missing piece of information wouldn’t come from Alessandra alone. He had a part in revealing the important link.

  Then he remembered. Christmas! Rosswell fixed his eyes on his phone, punched a few keys, swiped the screen. After reviewing his findings, he laid the phone face down on Sofia’s roof, hoping the heat of the car wouldn’t melt the phone. “Alessandra, tell me what the pregnant woman was wearing.”

  “A white dress. Kind of a shift. Real simple.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing else. She was lying on the bed asleep.”

  “Underwear? Bra? Panties?”

  “Rosswell, she was completely covered.”

  “No blanket over her?”

  “No.”

  “Shoes?”

  “She didn’t have on shoes.”

  “Was she lying on her back, her side, or her stomach?”

  Alessadra touched her lips a few times. “On her back.”

  “Was she wearing glasses?”

  “No.”

  “Do you wear glasses?”

  “Reading glasses. Sometimes when I read in bed, I go to sleep with my glasses on.”

  “Did she have any rings?”

  Alessandra thought a moment before she answered. “No.”

  “Earrings?”

  “No. I’m sure of that. I always notice other women’s earrings.”

  “Bracelet?”

  “Yes, she had a…no…no bracelet.”

  “Watch, maybe?”

  “No. Nothing on her wrists. There wasn’t a clock in the room either.”

  “Anything else about her?”

  Obviously replaying the whole scene in her head, Alessandra held up two fingers, then put one finger down. “One thing.”

  “What was it?”

  “A necklace.”

  “What color?”

  “Bronze. Or brass.”

  “What did the necklace look like?”

  “She was wearing a chain with a cross. Not a regular cross.”

  Jim Bill said, “What kind of cross was it?”

  “One like you’d see in Europe on an old church.”

  Rosswell dug in his car until he found a legal pad and ballpoint pen. “Can
you draw it?”

  Alessandra took the pen and paper and sketched a cross with a broad ring around the intersection of the upright and the crossbar.

  Jim Bill eyed the sketch. “Celtic cross. I’ve seen those on Presbyterian churches.”

  “Thank you, Jim Bill and Alessandra. You’ve both confirmed that Tina was in that room. I bought Tina a gold necklace last year at Christmas. A Celtic cross. I gave it to her on one of our trips to the Southern Hotel.” He plucked his phone off the car’s roof and tapped it a couple of times to dismiss the screen saver before he showed it to them. “Here’s a picture of her wearing it.”

  Alessandra’s eyes grew wide. “That’s it. You’re right, Judge Carew. I didn’t see myself. I saw Tina.”

  Jim Bill issued a caution. “We still don’t know for sure that Tina is in there.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But, Judge, we’d better go meet Ollie.”

  Alessandra stuck a palm out close to Jim Bill’s face. “Not without me you don’t.”

  In the full dark, Ollie stood waiting in Jill’s yard. Rosswell pulled up in Sofia, Jim Bill and Alessandra in the Crown Vic. The remnants of the wildfire stunk up the area.

  Ollie stared at Alessandra. “You’re a cop. I can smell cops.”

  Alessandra made no comment.

  “She’s no cop.” Jim Bill fetched his silver-body Colt .45 and began strapping it on. “You’re mistaken.”

  “Sure. What was I thinking?” Ollie watched until Jim Bill finished. “Excuse me, Officer Evans, but Rosswell asked me to bring these.” Butt-first, he handed two pistols to Jim Bill, which he took and examined under the glare of his headlights. The moon and stars offered no help as they were hidden by a bank of thick clouds.

  “Where the hell did you get these?”

  Ollie pouted. “They’re legal.”

  “And expensive. These are Colt 1911s.”

  “Judge Carew cares enough to buy the very best.”

  Rosswell skirted around the questions without actually giving too much detail. “Jim Bill, I solemnly promise you that those pistols will be at the bottom of the Mississippi River when this is over. Either that or I’ll be at the bottom of the river.”

  “I can’t let you use these.” Jim Bill opened his trunk and unlocked his gun safe. “You could kill a lot of people with these guns.” Over his shoulder, he stared at Rosswell. “Your .38.” Rosswell handed it over.

  Alessandra proffered a plastic card, similar to a driver’s license. “Take a look at this.”

  Jim Bill examined the card. “Congratulations. You have a concealed carry permit. You’re still not using one of these.” He locked the guns in the safe and slammed the trunk lid.

  Ollie stood in front of Rosswell and hung his head. “Sorry. I tried.”

  “You did your best. We’ve got to follow the law.”

  “Yes.” Ollie sighed. “The law must be followed.”

  Jim Bill began his instructions. “All three of you are going to stay right here while I go talk to Nathaniel about the fire which came close to his place of business. I want to protect our citizens. That duty requires me to investigate.”

  “That’s right.” Rosswell spoke in a conciliatory tone. “We’ll stand right here and wait for you to get back.”

  “It won’t take me more than fifteen minutes.”

  Ollie had what Rosswell considered a useful suggestion. “Unless you think of some extra questions that might take you about ten minutes more.”

  Jim Bill agreed. “There are always loose ends I need to tie up in a square knot. You’re right, Ollie. Maybe twenty-five minutes. Or half-hour. Then I will come back and find you all right here. Waiting.”

  Alessandra chimed in her agreement. “That’s correct, Officer Evans. We will discuss the day’s events while we stay right here and wait for your return.”

  Jim Bill placed his hand on Rosswell’s shoulder. “I’ve got a radio and a phone. If there’s the slightest whiff that Tina is in there, I’ve got people lined up to help me.” A thump on his chest showed he wore body armor. “You all need to stay out of this. I’m prepared, you’re not.” He pulled out his cell phone, slid into his car, and, presumably giving someone lengthy instructions on the phone, drove away.

  It wasn’t until Rosswell could see Jim Bill’s headlights pulling into the driveway of River Heights Villa that he spoke to Ollie and Alessandra. “I don’t expect you all to go with me.”

  Ollie and Alessandra stood silent. He didn’t blame them. This wasn’t their fight.

  “Especially unarmed.” Demons danced in Rosswell’s stomach. “You shouldn’t go with me if you don’t have a weapon.”

  Ollie squeaked. “What makes you think we’re unarmed?”

  Chapter 39

  Monday Night, continued

  Rosswell high-fived Ollie, both letting out a low whoop. One could never tell when Nathaniel Dahlbert or one of his minions lurked within earshot.

  Alessandra stepped away from the men. “Have you two gone nuts?”

  Ollie scrambled over a huge log, then stuck his hand underneath it, drawing out the tote bag from Discovered Treasures.

  Rosswell stepped back. “I hope that’s not covered with ants.” But since it was in the burned area, he doubted that critters of any kind survived nearby. The slight breeze stirred enough ashes to stink up the place even more and give Rosswell’s allergies a reason to explode.

  Ollie dipped into the tote, splitting the three monster LED flashlights and three more Colt 1911s among them. Ollie patted his pistol. “Alessandra, can you fire one of these?”

  “I can hit the middle of a dime with any pistol you give me.” Alessandra checked the gun, then held it at her side. “You brought five weapons out here, but only showed Jim Bill two?”

  Rosswell said, “Play honest. No more Brazil crap.”

  Alessandra saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Rosswell breathed deeply. The clean smell of a well-oiled pistol helped him center. And he didn’t tell Alessandra that they’d brought more than five weapons.

  Ollie explained his deception. “I counted on him searching us to make sure we weren’t armed. He’s a good cop.” Ollie coughed. “If any cop can be good.”

  “Judge, are we using stolen weapons?”

  Rosswell hefted his pistol and rubbed the barrel. “These are one hundred percent legal.”

  “What was all that game’s afoot stuff? Who is the Gold King?”

  “Ollie’s a huge Sherlock Holmes fan. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a short story called ‘The Problem of Thor Bridge.’ One of the characters called the Gold King had a big collection of guns.”

  “Code talk.” Ollie puffed out his chest. “We’re like spies.”

  “When I talked to Ollie on the phone, it was a signal to bring all the guns he could round up. If we gave Jim Bill a couple of them that would satisfy him. But we’d have a few more in reserve.”

  Alessandra examined the tote bag. “You got the guns at that antique store downtown?”

  “Not exactly.” Ollie’s answer also skirted the question. “There are a couple of more things in here.” He drew out several rolls of duct tape, three rolls of clothesline, ten feet of orange plastic rope, and a bag of cotton balls. “There’s more stuff. This is a sampling.”

  “What’s all that for?”

  Ollie substituted Alessandra’s question with one of his own. “Are you ready?”

  She said, “I’m rough and tough and used to hard candy.”

  Rosswell saluted them both. “Ollie comes prepared. I credit the Boy Scout training he had as an innocent youth.”

  Ollie addressed Alessandra. “You want to carry this stuff?” He surveyed her from top to toe. Then, careful as Ollie was, he gave her a second survey. “Nowhere to stash them. I’ll carry everything.”

  Rosswell added his camera and binoculars to the tote.

  Alessandra put her hand on Ollie’s arm. “I’ll do whatever you say, and if I don’t make it, I love your purple tattoo.”

>   “We should talk about that more.”

  “That’s a grand idea.”

  Ollie said, “Do you mean grand in the traditional sense of meaning—”

  Rosswell broke up the burgeoning flirtation. “Cut the mush. Here’s what we’ve got to do.” He laid out a plan that he hoped and prayed would rescue Tina.

  If she was in River Heights Villa.

  When Rosswell guided Alessandra and Ollie to the mouth of the cave, they found it as dark as the night surrounding them.

  Rosswell whispered, “Get ready. I’m going to turn on the flashlight.” After a sharp click, light flooded the cave. Nothing stirred. There was no one or no thing in the cave. Or at least that he could see. Rosswell never discounted the fact that little critters were profuse in caves. Other than the slight burbling of the small stream running from the cave, there was no sound. “I’m going to find Tina.”

  Rosswell’s skin raised gooseflesh the moment he crossed the threshold of the cave. Ollie and Alessandra’s skin was bumpy, too. Must be the chill of the cave. Or fear of critters. Bats. Salamanders. Snakes. Bears. Lions. Or fear of death.

  Center, Rosswell, center.

  About fifty feet inside the mouth of the cave, the passageway branched.

  Rosswell spoke in a low voice. “I don’t know which way to go.” He checked his phone. “It’s after nine.”

  Rosswell had the presence of mind to cut off the phone’s ringer, although he also realized that the noise of the three walking through the cave would be enough to warn an alert sentry with good hearing. Or set off an electronic burglar alarm with the slightest intrusion.

  There was no disturbance or noise when he again examined both of the tunnels with the aid of his superbright flashlight. He’d already passed the spot where the dead woman was laid out. The passageways didn’t look featureless. They both looked like passageways in a cave with cave features. Here and there were smaller passageways that were only three or four feet deep. The roof of the cave was higher or lower in some places. Nothing dramatic. The cave looked ordinary.