Prudence Couldn't Swim by James Kilgore Page A

enough.”
    I laughed and phoned the camera shop. Johnny answered.
    â€œI’m so sorry, sir,” he said. “I remember the young woman. Charming thing. She bought a video camera from us. Old-style VHS. Don’t sell many of those any more. Said she hadn’t figured out this new technology yet. Wanted it for shooting her honeymoon in Yosemite. It was a couple of months ago. Let me bring it up on the system. Here it is. Mrs. D. Winter. That was her name. I remember it now. A Panasonic. Lovely woman. Elegant. I’m so sorry.”
    I thanked him for his condolences and the information. I asked Mandisa about it. She’d never seen Prudence with a video camera. Neither had I. I’d check with Darlene. At least I had something to follow up on.
    Mandisa promised to write to G. Mukombachoto and go through Prudence’s clothes one more time.
    â€œThere may be a scrap of paper with a phone number or something,” she said. “If I find anything or think of anything, I’ll call you.”
    I gave her my number but I doubted I’d hear from her again. Mandisa was almost as mysterious as Prudence. She didn’t need me poking around in her life.

CHAPTER 10
    T he next morning Officer Carter showed up at my door. This time his partner was a short, stocky woman who looked like a possible candidate for the Olympic team in the shot put. Lovely creature. Their timing could have been better. It was Luisa’s day to clean and I was on my way to a meeting with a young woman from Belarus. Red Eye told me she was tall, blonde, horny, and looking for a husband. With Prudence gone, I could call myself “available.” My heart wasn’t really in it but at least I’d be thinking about something besides that look in Prudence’s eyes when her head popped out of that rolled-up rug. Maybe poking a blonde would cure my insomnia. Something had to work.
    â€œWe have a couple more questions for you about the girl who drowned in your pool,” said Carter. As the two of them parked on my couch again without an invitation, I heard the bedroom window sliding open slowly. Luisa was making her escape. I coughed to cover up the noise. Though I never asked, I figured her chances of having a green card were about as good as those for me becoming lifelong friends with Officer Carter.
    â€œWhat else do you need to know?” I asked. I could feel a noose tightening around my neck. I was about two questions from calling my lawyer. Maybe we could file a civil action to recover the costs of the Re-Nu.
    â€œDo you have a marriage license?” he asked. “We want to verify the name of your so-called wife.”
    â€œI’ll get it for you,” I said. I went into my bedroom. Carter followed. A cool breeze wafted in through the open window.
    â€œI’m a bit of a fresh air freak,” I told Carter. He didn’t pay anyattention, just headed straight for my bed. I slid open the top drawer of my dresser. My marriage license had been there since the day Prudence moved in but I wasn’t even thinking about the license. The top drawer of my nightstand contained my Walther—an automatic five years if Carter found it.
    â€œThe license is right here,” I said, “you can come and see for yourself.”
    Carter didn’t respond. He was too busy pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed. As I turned to take the license to him, he bent over the bed and took a deep breath.
    â€œThat’s the smell of African pussy,” he said, “wet and wild. She must have been more than you could handle, Winter.”
    I threw the license on the bed, right under his nose.
    â€œShe was my wife,” I reminded him, “for better or worse.”
    He ignored the license, sat down on the bed and slid open the nightstand drawer. I thought about diving out the window but even as fat and slow as Carter was, he could probably get a bullet through me before I got away. I was