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sorting through Paul's castoffs. Not anymore.
    Paul paged through a folder on Carl's desk while the deputy responded to an incoming phone call. He jerked his hand away when Carl slammed the folder shut.
    "You don't need to look at anything on my desk,” Carl said. “I don't snoop through your stuff, do I?"
    "That's because you trust me. Trust is a good thing.” Paul grinned slyly. “I hear the Witt sisters don't trust you. You're on their shit list. I still don't know why you think you're going to win that lawsuit."
    "Don't worry about it.” Carl slid the folder out of Paul's reach. “What makes you think I trust you? I'm not as dumb as Nan. I can't believe you dangled your money to get her to marry you."
    "It's none of your business what I do. She'll come around if she wants the mortuary and the land it sits on.” Paul propped his hip against the corner of Carl's desk. “Think about it. Before Nan's Dad died, he planned to buy the mortuary from the Witt sisters rather than continue the land lease. Now Nan wants to do the same thing. She wants to keep the family legacy alive, but can't afford it.” Paul feigned a look of humility. “I'm a genius."
    "Who'd want to continue the legacy of a mortuary, anyway? That's morbid."
    "Her grandfather started the business a long time ago. Nan feels she owes it to him to continue their dream,” Paul said.
    Carl held his thumb and forefinger against his forehead to simulate the letter L.
    "Nan's not a loser,” Paul said.
    "I didn't mean Nan. I meant you. Using something like that to get a woman to marry you is pathetic. But of course if the broad is dumb enough to fall for it, then she deserves you."
    "I'm nowhere near as conniving as you are, my friend,” Paul said. “I'm not the one going after two helpless, old ladies."
    "Helpless my ass. The judge will determine who's helpless. You know how Judge Kimmer hates the Witt sisters."
    Both men stopped as Angie, a twenty-three-year veteran with the sheriff's department, muted an incoming dispatch. Angie spun her desk chair around and signaled to Carl. Carl joined her behind the bullet-proof glass. Two 911 calls had been phoned in simultaneously. The callers indicated they had witnessed a vehicle cross the median, two miles north of town, and hit a pole.
    They both looked back at Paul before Carl returned to his desk. “There was a car accident similar to the one the other night. Angie didn't want you to hear it. She didn't know how you'd react.” Carl said.
    "Who was it?” Paul pulled up a chair.
    "Don't know yet. But it didn't sound serious. The victims didn't need an ambulance.” Carl ran his hands over his face. “Thank God it wasn't as bad as the other night. I still can't believe the whole Fossum family was wiped out in that accident."
    Carl tried to erase the image as he recalled the horrific scene of Richard Fossum impaled on a piece of splintered fencing. “It must be hard to lose your business partner."
    "Yeah,” Paul said, barely audible, as he stared at the folds of fabric in his lap.
    "Want to talk about it? You know you should. He was your business partner. It's not good to keep it bottled up."
    "Nope.” Paul cleared his throat. “I still don't see why you think the judge will rule in your favor. If Sadie wouldn't sell him the resort, why would he want you to have it?"
    "Because I put a bug in his ear,” Carl said. “You know what a fishing fanatic he is. All the judge wants is a place to fish. He doesn't want the whole resort. I told him if I won, I'd make sure he had free use of one of the cabins.” Carl smirked. “I also threw in a boat and all the bait he could use for the rest of his life."
    "Judge Kimmer doesn't need any freebies. He's been rolling in money for the past several years."
    "He dabbles in all kinds of things,” Carl said. “I know he likes to putter with inventions. Or at least that's what he told me. Plus he's involved with a group of investors."
    "Sounds like a conflict-of-interest