Devil Sent the Rain: A Mystery by Lisa Turner

Author:Lisa Turner [Turner, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062136213
Amazon: 0062136216
Barnesnoble: 0062136216
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-09-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

On the murder squad, you go flat out until there’s nothing left to do, or there’s nothing left of you.

There were no more field reports to read or calls to make, plus Billy’s head felt like a boiled cabbage. A New York strip was waiting in the fridge, but he was too hungry to fire up the grill, so he called the Flying Fish for an order of crawfish chowder, blackened catfish fillets, and a large order of fried jalapeño chips.

When he got to the restaurant, the kitchen was running behind. He took a corner table and put a call into the one friend he’d made the year he attended Ole Miss School of Law. Carson Bicks had wanted to get the hell out of Mississippi, so he’d joined a Chicago firm as a criminal defense attorney. Billy hadn’t seen his buddy since they’d run into each other three Christmases ago at the Hollywood Cafe near Tunica, but he knew Carson wouldn’t mind a voicemail requesting confidential information. He wanted to find out if ASA Highsmith had a reputation in Chicago’s legal community as a fixer.

State’s Attorneys can make things happen, more so than most officials. Sometimes they get overzealous with a prosecution. Occasionally, it goes the other way. When a solid case is kicked out of court for no obvious reason, everyone in law enforcement smells rotten fish.

He picked up his order of chowder and took Riverside Drive home, easing down the steep pitch of the cobblestone landing to his home at the edge of the slack water. He’d left the porch light burning. As he walked up the ramp, he could hear the radio he’d left on to keep the cat company. When he opened the door, Leo jumped down from the sofa and trotted over, making guttural sounds in his throat.

“I’m going to teach you how to use the can opener,” he said as the cat led him to the food bowl. He opened a can of white fish in sauce. Leo glanced up and licked his chops.

He sat in his recliner with a Corona and switched on a James Bond movie he’d seen before. He watched car chases and bombs explode while he ate his blackened catfish and crawfish chowder out of a foam cup. He drank a second beer and finished off the jalapeño chips before the movie ended, thinking the beer would help him unwind. He considered the pack of Camels he kept in a drawer, but thought better of it and poured three fingers of Jack Daniel’s before walking out on the aft deck.

He looked out over the broad Mississippi, the most untamed, indifferent entity in the region. The moon cast white light on the water, and in the distance a bonfire flared on a sandbar on the Arkansas side of the river. He scanned the Memphis skyline with its unique sense of place. He wasn’t born in Memphis but felt downtown, the bridges, the river—all of it belonged to him. He’d given up a lot to be a cop in this city.

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