Bill Hopkins - Judge Rosswell Carew 01 - Courting Murder by Bill Hopkins Page B

Feliciana’s funeral invaded his brain, soon to be joined by the reality of Tina’s final services.
    Frizz dabbed at his eyes, then stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket. “Funeral?” He put his hat on and stared at Rosswell. “Are you doped up?”
    “I’m going to her funeral, I don’t care if you have to push me in this hospital bed, I’m going.”
    “There’s no funeral, Rosswell.”
    If he said that to calm Rosswell, it wasn’t working. “What’re you saying?” Had it been so bad that they’d already cremated Tina? “Has she already been buried? Did you cremate her and spread her ashes?”
    “Listen to me.” Frizz sat on the edge of the bed. “You hurt your arm. Nothing that a tetanus shot, antibiotics, painkillers, and bandages won’t help. Tina got shot. That’s bad. But you’re both alive. She’s here in the hospital, too.”
    “Oh, Jesus.”
    “I’m not a doctor, but her wound wasn’t serious.” Frizz smiled. “In fact, she got off easier than you. A bullet grazed her arm and it doesn’t look as bad as your wound. You need to be more careful with that sword.” He lost his smile. “We need to talk.”
    “Talk.” Rosswell slugged the pillow with the fist of his good arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
    “I don’t have any idea who broke into your house and shot Tina.”
    “I do.” Rosswell waited a couple of seconds to build suspense. “I know.” Frizz would have to listen to him now.
    “Who?”
    He enjoyed knowing something Frizz didn’t about this case. “I got a text message right before the gunfire started. It said—”
    “ 2 DWN UR NXT. ”
    Rosswell clenched his jaw until it quivered. “You searched my cellphone?”
    “It was an emergency.”
    “Damn it, Frizz.”
    “The person or persons who killed those people at the park are after you. That’s my working hypothesis.”
    “I’ve irritated a lot of people.” Rosswell knew where this conversation was headed and didn’t like the signposts to the destination. “It could’ve been one of a thousand people who’re pissed off at me.”
    “No. What do you think 2 DWN meant? It’s an explicit reference to the two bodies at the park. Two down.”
    Rosswell stayed silent, unwilling to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
    Frizz said, “You were out there investigating and you dragged Tina into it. Whoever was after you was after her, too.”
    “You don’t know that. It was just coincidence that she came to my house when she did. Wrong place at the wrong time.”
    “Tina got shot because she was helping you do something that you shouldn’t have been doing.”
    The elephant took a big dump, right on Rosswell’s head. “You think I’d put Tina in harm’s way?”
    “All I know is what happened.”
    “Judge Carew?” A priest called his name at the hospital room door. It hadn’t taken long for him to arrive. “I’m Father Michael David Smothers.” He could’ve passed for the twin brother of a young Pope John Paul II, except that his hair was shockingly white and his skin was lighter—no, grayer—than the late Pope’s. “They call me Father Mike.”
    Rosswell envied the man’s black pupils and clear eyes. No blood-shot there. Dressed in his black priest’s outfit, he carried an aura of power about him.
    Frizz shook hands with Father Mike. “I’ll leave y’all alone. Rosswell, you’re off the case. Period. End of story. Even if.”
    Rosswell took off his eyeglasses to rub his face, which felt gritty. Holding the glasses with the hand of his wounded arm didn’t work. He dropped the trifocals.
    After Frizz left, Rosswell said, “I met you at your church picnic last year.”
    Father Mike winked at Rosswell. “You’re the one who ate three helpings of chicken and dumplings.” The priest hadn’t moved from the doorway even though Rosswell had motioned him in.
    “Your memory is excellent. They were a tad salty or I’d have eaten four helpings.” The pain in his arm increased, causing