Bill Hopkins - Judge Rosswell Carew 02 - River Mourn

by Bill Hopkins

  The weather had taken a cool turn—if seventy-five degrees can be considered cool—after a slow and gentle all day rain, encouraging Jim Bill, Rosswell, and Tina to sit on the balcony of Rosswell’s room at The Four Bee. Jonathan David, his tummy full, slept soundly in his crib next to his mommy and daddy’s bed.

  The rain had stopped. Clouds had fled to wherever clouds go when they’ve outlived their usefulness. Although it was still daylight, the sun had moved behind the ridge toward town.

  Rosswell heard the river mourn. A sad cry for the murdered woman rose from the bank full stream. Others may’ve heard only the rushing of the water. Rosswell detected the minor chords the Mississippi River sang for Mary Donna Helperen.

  Before he asked the question, Rosswell checked his son. Satisfied that all was well, he said, “What’s the big secret?”

  Jim Bill opened both hands, as if to show he had nothing to hide. “Maman initiated you into the Guardians of Dina.”

  “She threw the necklace at me and told me to wear it. If that’s an initiation, then, yes, I was initiated.”

  Tina, her hands on her stomach, said to Jim Bill, “You explained some of that in the hospital room. But I’ve got more questions. Are the Guardians of Dina a secret club or something?”

  “Or something. We operate…off the books.”

  The significance of an observation from last Sunday morning hit Rosswell. “Theodore and Philbert are wearing the same kind of necklace. They’re in on it, too.” Another sighting of the necklace surfaced in his brain. “Nicolas Rodriguez has one.” More questions tumbled in his brain. Rosswell settled on the most important one. “And what exactly do you do…I guess I should say…what do WE do off the books?”

  “The legal system isn’t set up to deal with human trafficking the way it should be handled. The official way is slow and clumsy. The rapists and kidnappers and slave buyers get too many rights. Most of them never get caught. The ones who do get caught get off too easy. Some guy can go into a bus station in New York City and buy a truckload of girls before breakfast. The women make babies that are sold all over the world. And after they have their babies, they themselves are sold for sex slaves. It’s a business that brings in billions of dollars a year.”

  “Vigilantes?” Tina frowned. “I don’t like that idea.”

  “Vigilantes?” Jim Bill drew a tobacco pouch from his pocket. After opening it and staring for a moment, he slid it back. “I guess you could call us that.”

  Tina’s frown hadn’t mellowed. “You’re anti-government?”

  Jim Bill drew the pouch out again. “Hell, yes, I’m anti-government. I work for the government and I know how dangerous it is.” A smidgen of tobacco sneaked into his mouth.

  Rosswell said, “The Book of Genesis tells the story of Dina, hottie daughter of Leah and Jacob. Dina fetched water at the camp’s well, chit-chatting with her girlfriends, and along came Schechem, son of Hamor. Quite the big shot. Schechem kidnapped and raped Dina, then told Hamor he wanted to marry her.”

  “What a scumbag,” Tina said.

  Jim Bill said, “It gets better.”

  Rosswell went on. “Jacob told Hamor that if all his male tribesman got circumcised, they could work a deal. Hamor agreed. Three days later, when all the newly circumcised guys hurt like hell, Dina’s brothers killed all the rascals. So much for plea bargaining.”

  Tina folded her arms across her chest. “The Guardians of Dina rescue women and girls who’ve been bought or tricked or kidnapped?”

  Rosswell said, “You’re living proof.”

  “Gustave helped Nathaniel kidnap me. How could Maman and Lazar work with them? The old woman and her brother were secret vigilantes who were supposedly guarding women? That makes no sense.”

  Jim Bill said, “To Maman and Lazar, Gustave was a source of information, that’s all.”

  “Why would they have anything to do with such a bastard?”

  “Here’s an example,” Rosswell said. “If you want to find out what evil is, you read Hitler and Marx. That doesn’t make you evil. It helps you know what evil is.” He grasped her hand. “Jim Bill also found out more about the woman I saw thrown in the drink.”

  Tina laid her hand on his arm. “Who was she?”

  “Mary Donna Helperen from Piggott, Arkansas. Swimming champion at the University of Arkansas. Working on her physics doctorate. Her parents are Norwegian immigrants.”

  Tina said, “Oh, dear God. What talent has Nathaniel robbed from the world? We’ll never know.”

  “There’s more.” Rosswell rubbed his hands on his pants. “Do you remember me telling you about the deckhand seeing Charlie give Turk what she thought was a file? When they were on the ferry a week ago Sunday? That’s when Jasmine saw the file.”

  “I remember. You thought they were passing dope in that envelope.”

  “I was wrong. It was indeed a file. Mary Donna had gotten sick. Nathaniel had connections with a doctor in Illinois who would treat his prisoners for the right amount of money. Charlie, Ribs, and Turk were taking her to that doctor. Frankie Joe and Turk were along to distract Jasmine and Captain LaFaire.”

  “Who told you all this?”

  Jim Bill said, “The details will all come out at Gustave’s trial. I’m not telling you who the informants are.”

  “Sorry. What was I thinking? Anyway, go ahead, Rosswell.”

  “Before they crossed the river, Mary Donna got to feeling really bad. I think she’d stepped from the white van and fainted. Complications from pregnancy. Someone created a diversion by thumping on the opposite side of the ferry when she fainted. Then she fell into the river.”

  “Maybe they threw her into the river.”

  “Possible. I don’t really know what happened. She was a strong swimmer. Maybe she revived when she fell in and started swimming for shore. Maybe she jumped in to escape.” Rosswell pulled at his bottom lip for a few seconds, trying to complete his thoughts. “Her folks are driving to Sainte Gen so they can accompany the body back to Arkansas.”

  “How incredibly sad. A woman is killed by slavers in the middle of the United States in the twenty-first century.” Tina watched the river for a while. “Why did Nathaniel have Ribs killed?”

  “The best anyone can figure out, Ribs panicked. Probably made noises like he was going to the cops.”

  “Maman Fribeau pointed you to the cave where you found Ribs’s body. Was she in on it? Or Lazar?”

  Jim Bill said, “Damn it, Tina, you’re nosy.”

  Her face grew red and her eyes widened. “I am the one who got kidnapped!”

  Rosswell said, “Don’t hold anything back from the victim.”

  “You’re both right,” Jim Bill said. “It was Maman’s way of telling Rosswell two things.” He fingered the gold star hanging from a braid. Rosswell wondered if Maman had given it to Jim Bill. Or, if not, where did it come from? Rosswell hadn’t for a second taken his off. Except when he cut the screens at Nathaniel’s house. And when he widened the hole in the wall of the delivery room.

  Rosswell said, “The two things she told me were that, first, there was a dead body. Ribs. And, second, there was a live woman. You.”

  Jim Bill glanced at his watch. “Bigger fish and all that. Keep in touch.”

  When Jim Bill opened the door to leave, an older man and woman stood there, the man’s hand raised as if he were going to knock. The woman cradled an infant covered with a yellow blanket.

  The man said, “We look for Judge Rosswell Carew.” He spoke with an accent that Rosswell thought sounded like some European language. German? Dutch?

  “Hello again.” Jim Bill pointed to Rosswell. “That’s the man.” The fire marshal smiled as he saluted Rosswell, then left.

  “Judge Carew, I am Stig Helperen and this is my wife Hedda.”

  Rosswell’s mouth tasted of sand. “Mary Donna’s parents.”

  “Yes,” the woman said, also in the same accent as the man’s, which Rosswell now realized was Norwegian. “A
young woman called Jill identified for us our grandchild. The men of authority handed the baby of Mary over to us. We take her back to Arkansas.”

  “A baby girl.” Rosswell walked to the child. “May I see her?”

  Hedda pulled the blanket back. “She is Andrea Jane.”

  Stig offered his hand to Rosswell. “We thank you.”

  Rosswell, unable to speak, shook hands with Stig, then watched the grandparents and grandchild leave.

  Finally alone, Tina leaned over Rosswell and whispered in his ear, “Hug me.” They embraced for a long time without speaking. Then Tina said, “Tell me the truth if you know it.”

  “Always.”

  “Why didn’t Nathaniel kill me? Or, for that matter, you?”

  “Nathaniel’s been swept away. Death by water. His facility will be turned over to people who care about other people. His organization has fallen apart.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Nathaniel was an old man. Twenty years older than me.”

  “Rosswell, that’s not what I asked.”

  Rosswell broke from her and walked to the balcony where he grasped the railing. “I’ll tell you Jim Bill’s theory, the one he came up with after talking to the suspects and informants.”

  Tina joined him on the balcony. “Let’s hear it. I’m a cop, remember?”

  Rosswell smiled at her. “Oh, do I ever.” He gazed out on the river. “Nathaniel hated me for destroying his dope ring. He wanted our baby born. When that happened, he was going to kill the baby. Then you. And, after I’d watched both of you die, he was going to cripple me. I’d still be alive, but barely.”

  “I’m glad the weirdo drowned.” Tina hugged him again, wrapping her arms around him tightly and pressing herself to him. “Never let me go.”

  “Hey, you two, get a room,” Ollie yelled.

  Jasmine, Alessandra, and Ollie had walked under the balcony and were watching Rosswell and Tina.

  Rosswell yelled back, “We’ve got a room.”

  Ollie said, “Hear any ghosts up there?”

  Rosswell, recalling the afternoon delight moans they’d mistaken for departed spirits, grimaced. “No, Ollie.”

  Tina said, “What are you all doing on this lovely day?”

  Ollie said, “We’re celebrating that Nathaniel Dahlbert is, as the British say, up the spout.”

  “More than that,” Alessandra said. “We’re celebrating being alive and free.”

  Rosswell said, “You’re a warrior. A fearless warrior.”

  Jasmine said, “We thought we’d go to that new drive-in for a flick.”

  Tina said, “Drive-in? You mean where you sit in a car and watch a movie?”

  Alessandra said, “Exactly. It’s a monster movie.”

  Ollie grinned. “It won’t be dark for awhile, so I’m treating the girls to a steak dinner at Mabel’s.”

  “The girls?” Tina squinted.

  Ollie said, “That’s what I said. The girls.”

  The trio moved for Alessandra’s car, but before they reached it, Alessandra turned and came back. “Judge, Momma’s doctor says she needs to slow down. She’s under too much stress.”

  “What’s she going to do?”

  “First thing, she says, is move away from the frogs!”

  Alessandra wheeled about and joined Ollie and Jasmine.

  “Oh, boy,” Rosswell said when the trio was out of earshot. “A triple date.”

  “I don’t even want to think about how Ollie attracted those two beautiful women. Both at the same time.”

  “I wonder if Candy Lavaliere knows about this?”

  “Rosswell!” A smile tugged at Tina’s face. “You mean Ollie and Candy have been…uh…”

  “Talking.”

  “I thought he was talking to Jasmine or Alessandra. Or both of them.”

  “Who knows?” Rosswell shook his head. “Anyway, Alessandra is indeed an undercover cop and an actress with a list of law enforcement skills a mile long. She was never in rehabilitation. It was a scam to get her in Nathaniel’s facility to look for you.”

  “Is Jasmine an undercover cop, too?”

  “No. Just the best deckhand on the Mississippi River. That’s what her daddy told me.”

  Rosswell’s cell phone rang. His bank. Again.

  “Judge Rosswell Carew.”

  “Is this Judge Rosswell Carew?”

  “Yes, Muriel, it’s me.”

  “This is Muriel Thornmorton, calling for Judge Rosswell Carew.”

  “Hello, Muriel Thornmorton. This is Judge Rosswell Carew.”

  “At the bank.”

  “Yes, I know where you work.”

  “In Marble Hill.”

  “And how are things at the bank?”

  “They’re fine, but that’s not why I called, Judge Carew.”

  “Tell me, Muriel, why you called.”

  “Something odd happened.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There was a blank envelope deposited at the bank.”

  “Muriel, this is really a bad time. I’m busy. Perhaps you should talk to—”

  “The envelope was deposited early this morning, the best I can figure.”

  “Shouldn’t you tell your supervisor?”

  “The envelope wasn’t sealed.”

  Jonathan David stirred. “Did you know that Tina had her baby?” The baby belched, scratched his sheets, and made a funny noise. Rosswell had accepted the fact that babies made strange sounds, most of them meaningless.

  Muriel wasn’t interested in the kid. “The envelope wasn’t empty.”

  He was going to hear this story whether he wanted to or not. He tried to think of something intelligent to say.

  “That is odd, isn’t it, Muriel?”

  “No, not really. I run into unsealed envelopes every day. Blank, unsealed envelopes. Happens every day.”

  “Then, I guess I’m not sure why you’re calling me.”

  “I opened the envelope and there was a single sheet of paper with a message printed on it.”

  “A message?”

  “Printed. By a computer.”

  Rosswell suspected she might get to the point eventually but thought maybe he could help her along. Mrs. Bolzoni should have supper on the table any minute. That was something he didn’t want to be late for.

  “What did the message say?”

  “It was for you. It had your name on it. Judge Rosswell Carew.”

  Rosswell shot straight up, his attention now fully riveted on the woman’s voice. “What did it say?”

  “The message?”

  “Yes, Muriel. What did the message say?”

  “It was one sentence.”

  “What was the sentence, Muriel?”

  “A short sentence.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Only two words.”

  “Muriel, what two words?”

  “And then it was signed.”

  “Muriel, listen carefully to me. Read me the sentence.”

  “Okay. It says, ‘I’m watching.’ ”

  A migraine that had been hiding in his brain crept out to see what all the excitement was about. On the way to the front of Rosswell’s head, it kicked the back of his eyeballs and sent a memo to his stomach that vomit time was near. Bright lights flashed around his eyes.

  “Now, Muriel, are you listening?”

  “Certainly.”

  “How was it signed?”

  “A name.”

  “What name?”

  “First and last name.”

  “What name, Muriel?”

  “Nathaniel Dahlbert.”

  The End

  About the author

  Bill Hopkins

  Bill Hopkins is retired after beginning his legal career in 1971 and serving as a private attorney, prosecuting attorney, an administrative law judge, and a trial court judge, all in Missouri.

  Courting Murder, the first book in the Judge Rosswell Carew Mystery Series, is ava
ilable at Amazon, Smashwords, and Barnes & Noble. When Judge Rosswell Carew makes the gruesome discovery of two corpses on a river bank in the Missouri Ozarks, he’s plunged into a storm of deadly secrets that threaten both him and his fiancée, Tina Parkmore. Unsatisfied with the way the authorities are conducting the investigation, Rosswell, who’s always nurtured a secret desire to be a detective, teams up with an ex-con, Ollie Groton, to solve the case before the killer can murder again. Rosswell uncovers a maze of crimes so tangled that he must fight his way to a solution or die trying. http://tinyurl.com/Bill-Hopkins-Courting-Murder

  Bloody Earth, coming in 2014, is the third book in the series. Judge Rosswell Carew witnesses the death of a friend. Is it an accident or murder? And if murder, why? Even though threatened with his life, Rosswell must find the answer for reasons he never knew existed!

  Bill has published non-fiction, poetry, and fiction in several periodicals. He is a member of The Dramatists Guild of America, Missouri Writers Guild, and SEMO Writers Guild. He is also a member of the Mystery Writers of America and the Horror Writers Association.

  A book of collected poetry, Moving into Forever: Poems from a Lifetime, is available on Amazon. http://tinyurl.com/Bill-Hopkins-MovingIntoForever

  He wrote his first play when he was sixty-one years old. Cotton Lesson was a finalist in Saint Louis’s First Run Theatre’s 2007 playwriting contest. The Almond Checkmate was his first produced play.

  Bill is also a professional photographer and has had his works displayed in Canada, Mexico, Europe, and the United States.

  Bill lives in Marble Hill, Missouri with his wife, Sharon Woods Hopkins, also a writer.

  Website QR Codes

  Bill Hopkins

  judgebillhopkins.com

  Sharon Woods Hopkins

  sharonwoodshopkins.com

  Gregg Hopkins and The Melroys

  themelroys.com

  Courting Murder

  (at)Amazon.com

  Deadly Writes Publishing

  deadlywritespublishing.com

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  publishista.com