Wayne’s Cadillac glided through the curves on the old Mississippi back road that meandered around the countryside like the town drunk.

“This just doesn’t sound like her,” said Detective Bernos as he read the police report they had gotten from the Vicksburg Police Department.

“What do you mean?” Wayne asked while flicking a butt out the window and rolling it up to hear better.

“I mean I watched this woman around the clock and there was nothing in her behavior I would associate with any of this stuff. The wild night at the casino, chasing down a gigilo with a gun, just none of it! This isn’t how she was before.”

“You mean before you murdered her husband and let an innocent girl think she was the murderer?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I bet it isn’t. You let her think she was a killer, now she isn’t gonna take anyone’s shit.”

The detective didn’t respond to Wayne’s taunt and that only aggravated him more.

“Oh, you don’t want to talk about it. Well, how about this, Detective BERNOS, I know you heard that cop saw that there was a refrigerator in the back of that El Camino duct-taped shut. That means this loony librarian is driving around the country with a dead body. How does that correspond to your PROFILE of her?”

“Look, this isn’t all my fault.”

“The hell it isn’t, flatfoot! That’s your problem. Everything wrong with your miserable life you can blame on somebody else. First, you let that Arab out, then you let that scumbag walk. Wait, that wasn’t your fault. Blame the dead girl. Then it was the jury’s fault because you did a shoddy investigation. Oh wait, then it was the killer’s fault why you neglected your family and your wife left. Or was it her fault because she didn’t LOVE you enough?!”

“What do you know about love?” The detective snapped at him. Having a two-bit thug dissect his life and then bring up his wife was like the last drop of rain that broke the dam.

“I know about love,” Wayne said defensively.

“Yeah right. A lie isn’t anything for you to tell, is it?”

“Watch it,” Wayne warned, feeling his Irish temper filling his head with blood.

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about you. Too bad. I have never had the kind of love you have.”

Wayne’s neck shot to the side as he cut a vicious look at the detective that betrayed his shock as well.

“Yeah, I noticed. I’m a detective, dumbass. Julian worships the ground you walk on. And out of the oh, I’d guess ten years ya’ll have been together, you’ve spent what, half the time locked away in jail? You weren’t even there when he got shot in the face. But guess what? I was there when he thought he was dying and kept crying, ‘tell Wayne I love him’.”

The tires screeched leaving smoke and black marks across the road when he pulled the emergency brake and slammed the car in park. The irate Irishman opened the door and stepped out, tearing off his suit coat. “Get ready to get your ass beat, copper.”

Detective Bernos opened his door, took off his coat, and set his gun on the hood next to Wayne’s. He flexed the arm that had been in a sling and it felt good. “But I ain’t no junkie. You wanna dance? I’m the right one.”

“Quit bumpin your gums,” and Wayne landed two body shots that sent the detective back a few steps. When he tried to follow up, the detective smashed a huge overhand right into Wayne’s eye. Wayne countered with a kidney punch that took about half the power of the hook Chaz had sent at Wayne’s head. They both were knocked back a step. Chaz feinted with a left and put everything he could muster into a hook designed to end the fight, but Wayne didn’t bite at the feint and sent his own right uppercut toward the bottom of Chaz’s chin. Both hits landed with full power simultaneously and the blows sent the two men sprawling on the ground. Neither man could ever remember being hit so hard. After the nausea and the stars began to recede, both men tried to sit up clumsily. Wayne shook stars out of his vision, then fumbled in his pocket for his phone, punched a number and held it up to his ear.

“Hey Julian?…Yeah, it’s Wayne… No, nothing’s wrong…I…I just wanted to say I love you. You mean everything to me… No, I’m not drunk. I just don’t tell you enough. I’ll call you when we get to a hotel, OK?” Wayne ended the call and dropped it like the weight of the phone was too much. “What do your friends call you? Ouch.” Wayne said as he tried to touch his swollen eye.

Detective John Bernos had to blink a few times to clear his vision and his ribs were as bruised as rotten tomatoes. “Chaz.”

“Ch..Chaz. You were right staying out of prison to be with my loved ones should be my top priority. But you were wrong about something, too.”

Chaz grimaced while trying to breathe and said, “What was that?”

“It wasn’t all you with your wife. When you love someone you work together. You don’t run out on your husband and a great kid like Max. She did you a favor.” Wayne grabbed the bumper and painfully pulled himself up, then stuck out his hand to help up Chaz.

“Partners?”

Chaz shook his head and said, “I must be crazy. Yeah, partners.” He took Wayne’s hand to get up. He bent over to get his coat and was looking up at Wayne holding a .45 caliber automatic pistol that he would have bet wasn’t on safe pointing right at him. Detective Bernos’ blood turned as cold as a freeze pop, and chills went up his spine. He heard his heart pound in his ears with the fear of the person he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was a ruthless killer, and who had every reason to blow his head off.

Wayne hit the button on the side of the gun dropping the clip and then ejected the shells out of the magazine and handed the gun to Chaz. Chaz let out a sigh like he had been granted a death row pardon.

“Here, take this. I can’t be in possession of a handgun. It’s a parole violation.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Wayne looked up with watery eyes. “Do I look like I’m kidding? Think it’s a game?”

Wayne’s phone rang and he talked on it a second and said, “Come on, Partner, we got a lead. She just used a credit card in Grenada, Mississippi.”