Murder & Billy Bailey

by Jim Riley

  The trio of private investigators dropped their napkins on the table and sped out. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the maze. Samson stood twenty feet from the Mustang.

  63

  The Maze

  "I thought you only came out for homicides," Niki greeted her friend and mentor. "You didn't say anything about a body over the phone."

  "There isn't one," Mayeaux replied, towering over Niki and the others. "We may be looking at a homicide, anyway."

  "Why? What makes you think that?" Niki asked.

  "Come look." Samson turned and walked toward the abandoned vehicle without waiting for a response.

  All three private investigators followed the huge man up to the driver’s side doors.

  "Look at that," the chief pointed to a smashed window and blood covering the steering wheel and head rest. Copious amounts of blood.

  "Nobody can lose that much blood and still be alive," Niki suggested.

  "Exactly," Mayeaux replied. "There is no damage to the car except for the broken window and the stains. It didn't hit anything."

  Niki looked at their feet. "There isn't any blood trail leading away from the car, so she didn't walk away looking for help."

  "Nope." Came the terse reply. "Somebody moved her after she bled all over everything."

  "Have you checked the trunk?" Niki hesitated to ask the seasoned homicide cop, but did anyway.

  "Not yet," Samson said. "New mayor. New rules. He wants forensics to be the first so we old-timers don't mess anything up."

  "But she might be in there bleeding to death."

  "I doubt it. In fact, it's impossible. Too much blood. She would be already dead."

  A white cargo van pulled up between Samson's vehicle and the Ford Mustang. Three uniformed technicians unloaded equipment, each carrying a bag and a piece of gear. The oldest, no more than mid-twenties, walked directly to the Mustang. The other two remained by the van.

  “Chief, we‘ll take over the scene now. We'll send you a report.”

  "Look, you little whippersnapper," Samson erupted. "I've been looking at crime scenes since before you were a bad consequence of two kids having fun. I know how to process it."

  "Maybe in the past," the youngster replied. "But we have to keep up with the progress. You’re part of the past. I'm the future."

  "If you keep talking like that, you ain’t gonna have much of a future, Sonny."

  The youngster went up to the Mustang and took pictures. After taking two or three, he stopped and stared at the quartet of detectives.

  "You people will have to step back. I can't have my crime scene contaminated by careless onlookers," he commanded.

  "You—" Mayeaux turned beet red and balled his fists.

  Niki grabbed the large man and talked to him until he followed her back toward her Ford SUV. When the four were back in her vehicle, Niki suddenly turned to Samson.

  "You've got to stop the tech."

  "Why?"

  "Something's not right about this whole setup."

  Samson looked at her for a second as though she was crazy. Then, without saying a word, he turned and lumbered toward the young technician who had just put the key in the trunk lock.

  Samson flew through the air, slamming into the uniformed tech, knocking him to the ground. When he looked up he saw the trunk had cracked open. He jerked the technician, put him on his shoulders and sprinted toward Niki and the other detectives.

  As they passed the crime scene van, the explosion turned the sky into a fiery combination of orange, red, and black. A wave of heat blew over Samson and the technician, knocking them to the ground.

  The other two technicians were thrown off their feet backwards. Niki, Drexel, and Donna were far enough back to withstand the force of the explosion, but ducked as debris fell from the sky.

  When Niki could see through the smoke, she gasped. Samson Mayeaux was still laying face first on the pavement, not moving a single muscle. The technician struggled to get to his knees.

  Niki rushed to Samson’s side. A slight pulse. No visible external wounds. Unresponsive to oral prompts.

  "Call an ambulance," she yelled too loud to Donna and Drexel, who were standing next to her.

  "Is he dead?" Fear written all over Donna’s face.

  "He’s alive, but barely," Niki replied.

  "Barely, my ass." The whisper came from the prone figure on the ground. Samson tried to get to his knees, but fell back to the pavement.

  "You stay right there, you old fart." Niki tried to sound firm, but joy resonated in her voice.

  Niki positioned her body so she could look at the remaining embers of the Ford Mustang. The back half of the sports vehicle was obliterated, nothing left but shards of metal. The front half contained larger components of the engine intact.

  The strawberry blonde scanned the bits and pieces of the remnants that had fallen from the sky. By the time the sirens approached, she concluded what she didn't see was more important than what she did.

  64

  Central

  "When did they start making EMTs who haven't started shaving?" Samson grumbled.

  "Be thankful there aren't any broken bones for him to set," Niki replied.

  “I feel like I've been kicked by mule that didn't quit until I quit kicking back,” Mayeaux moaned, and rubbed a bandaged hand over his ribs.

  "Maybe if you didn't play tough like a jackass all the time, you wouldn't get treated like one," Niki laughed.

  "I was trying to get that fool kid out of the way before that thing blew."

  "You should have let me do it. I'm a tad quicker than you." Niki said.

  "He weighs more than you," Samson snorted. "Besides, he would have argued with you, and you'd both been blown to hell. I didn’t give him a chance."

  "You got halfway there. Two or three steps slower and the devil would have your big butt out."

  "It's not the first time I've been rejected. Just ask my first three wives." Mayeaux winced from a sharp pang in his side.

  "She wasn't there," Niki blurted.

  "Who? Who wasn't where?"

  "Flavia wasn't in the trunk when it blew up."

  "How can you tell?"

  "Look at the debris," Niki pointed at the strewn pieces of mangled metal and twisted plastic. "There are parts of everything from axles to the spare tire, but there aren't any human parts. If Flavia had been in the trunk, we would see parts of her everywhere."

  Mayeaux rubbed his eyes. "Helluva observation. If she wasn't back there, why rig the trunk to blow up like that? Me and that idiotic excuse for a tech almost bit the big one."

  Niki gave Samson a bottle of water, which he took one sip, then inhaled the rest. He looked at the young private investigator.

  "How did you know?"

  "Same reason you did or you wouldn't have sprinted to save your new friend."

  "Damn kid has to have a chance to learn something before he kills himself. You're right, though. Nobody leaves the keys to an abandoned car sticking out of the lock of the trunk."

  "That's what I figured out. For a minute I thought I was too late."

  "For a minute? I beg your pardon, but I wish you'd figured it out a lot quicker."

  "It wouldn't have mattered other than it would have been you and me instead of you and the tech."

  "I'm not following you," Samson said.

  "Somebody set that bomb off after they saw you and the tech run away. I'm betting you'll find the remote switch in the mess somewhere."

  "Hell," Samson struggled to his feet. "Why would anyone do something crazy like that?"

  "To get us off the track. Somebody is trying to distract us."

  "I'd say they're doing a fine job of doing just that."

  The young technician wandered over by Niki and Samson.

  "Sir," he was humbled. "I want to thank you for saving my life. If you hadn't grabbed me, I'd be dead right now."

  Samson's gruff features relaxed. "Remember, sometimes experience is a lot mor
e valuable than the latest technology."

  "I will, Sir. I apologize for my earlier behavior. I have a newfound respect for our older—I mean, more experienced people now."

  Niki and Samson watched the young man shuffle back to the ambulance, and get loaded in the ambulance for the short trip to the hospital.

  Niki grinned. "You know, if I'm right, you really didn't save his life. Whoever detonated the bomb was waiting for you guys to get clear. You're just so slow. He pushed the button too soon."

  "Shush." Samson held a cut finger to his lips. "I'd rather have that little smart-ass thinking he owes his life to a stone age cop. Don't ruin that for me."

  "That's not right. He's got to figure it out after they do the investigation."

  "Yeah, but there will always be a healthy doubt in his mind before he tries bossing his elders around again."

  65

  The Maze

  The pickup roared into the maze, almost striking Niki and Samson before coming to a screeching halt. They took an evasive step behind her Ford Explorer to get out of the way of the irate driver.

  Donald Foster emerged from the pickup, his face beet red, his jaws clenched, and his fists rolled up into huge balls. Even the much larger Samson eyed Flavia's father the way he would a coiled cottonmouth.

  Foster walked directly to Niki.

  "You had my daughter killed," he shouted. "Now it's your turn."

  The grieving father took a wild swing at the young investigator as soon as he got within range. Niki easily dodged the errant blow as well as the next two.

  Then a pair of my strong arms encircled Foster's body. He struggled mightily, but to no avail. The arms around him were too powerful.

  "Thanks, Samson." Niki grinned as the older man. "I thought for a minute there you were getting too old."

  "I just wanted to see you dance a little before I stepped in," Samson turned his attention to Donald Foster. "You need to learn to show a little respect to young ladies. Next time, I won't be so nice."

  Foster grunted and groaned, but did not quit struggling. His face turned a dark crimson. Samson applied more pressure until Foster had trouble breathing.

  "Okay. Okay." The angry father sputtered.

  Samson released his grip, and Foster fell to the ground, gasping between curses. He continued to glare at Niki from the pavement. It took three or four minutes for Foster to gather enough strength to regain his footing.

  "You killed my daughter. You killed her." His eyes bore lasers at Niki.

  "Mr. Foster, I had nothing to do with your daughter's death," she replied.

  "I know better. She told me what you were going to make her do today. You had to kill her to keep the world from knowing what that coach did to my baby."

  "I don't believe the results of the test would have proven Coach Bailey was the father. We were looking forward to the proof he was not the baby’s father."

  "I don't believe you," saliva flew out of Foster's mouth with each word.

  "I can prove my whereabouts all night and this morning. I was at the school waiting for your daughters to show up until almost noon. She never came this morning."

  "Of course not. She is tired of all this. At least, she was."

  "Where did she hide out?"

  "At a friend's house," Foster spoke more calmly, though his eyes continued to smolder.

  "Which friend?"

  "Paula Slocum. She's younger than Flavia, but they had become good friends."

  Niki's heart almost exploded. Paula's father was John David "Sleazy" Slocum, Central's most notorious man of questionable deeds.

  "When did you talk to your daughter last?" Niki asked, trying to keep the dread from her voice.

  "Last night," Foster responded. "She came home and told me about you harassing her at school. She said you made a lot of threats."

  "I didn't threaten your daughter. I tried to get her to tell the truth without waiting for the test results. Coach Bailey's life is at stake if we don't get some answers soon."

  "He won't be getting them now," Foster stared. "Where was he this morning?"

  "He—He’s home, I'm sure. He no longer leaves this house unless I’m with him."

  "Then why did a friend of mine see him drive past the school before it opened this morning? He was alone. Wasn't nobody with him."

  "He—" Niki was stunned. "I'm sure your friend saw somebody resembling Coach Bailey this morning. Billy was at home alone."

  Foster stuck a fist in Niki's face. Samson took the opportunity to clear his throat with a slight cough to remind the angry father of his presence.

  Foster glanced over his shoulder at the behemoth of a policeman and stopped, relaxing his hand. He looked back at Niki.

  "You won't have this big bastard around all the time." Foster spat on the ground. "One day it will be you and me."

  Foster turned and strode toward his pickup. The tires left rubber on the pavement when he pulled out, demonstrating his continued anger.

  "That boy ain’t very bright," Samson shook his massive head.

  "He's upset about losing Flavia," she replied. "I would feel the same way."

  "That's not what I'm talking about."

  Niki gave him a quizzical look.

  "When I grabbed him," Samson grinned. "I wasn't trying to protect you. I didn't want him to get his ass kicked right after finding out his daughter got killed. He misunderstood my kindness."

  "Don't worry about it." Niki placed a petite hand on his giant forearm. "A lot of people misunderstand your intentions."

  66

  Watson

  Niki, Drexel, and Donna gathered at Linda's Chicken & Fish in Watson. None had finished eating when the news about Flavia had come in.

  "We’re in trouble," Drexel began after tasting his side order of gumbo.

  "Yep. No doubt about it," Niki speared a fried chicken liver.

  "Why?" Donna asked, preferring to start with a fried dill pickle. "They've got to let Coach Bailey go without Flavia there to testify against him."

  "He still has to deal with LaDonne Elgin's murder. He was found over her body with the murder weapon in his hand," Niki responded.

  "He was set up. Everybody knows that." Donna poured more salt on the plate of fried dill pickles, as well as her Cajun fries.

  "Ahh, the innocence of youth," Drexel sighed.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Donna slammed the salt shaker down.

  "Only that adults," Drexel wiggled his finger at himself and Niki, "we prefer to have facts backup her feelings. So does the judge in a court of law."

  "But you know, Niki knows, and I know Coach Bailey is innocent. If we can see it, why can't everyone else?"

  "You like crawfish. Right?"

  "Of course."

  "Would you eat a dog?"

  "Are you crazy? Nobody eats dogs."

  "Not true," Drexel said. "In many Asian and African cultures, they consider dog meat a delicacy."

  "Not by me, it isn't." Donna wrinkled her button nose.

  "That's my point. You tried crawfish and love them. Most of the world will never try them because they find the very thought disgusting. You feel the same way about dogs, even though you've never tasted one."

  "I still don't get the connection between dogs and Coach Bailey. I think Alzheimer's has already set in on that old brain of yours."

  Drexel glanced at Niki. "Today's youth are a bit slow, aren't they?"

  "If we're so slow, then why can't you explain that awful story about crawfish and dogs?" Donna fired back.

  "You’ve eaten crawfish and you love them. You hate the thought of tasting dog meat because you've never tried it. People who are involved in the case and don't know Coach Bailey detests the mere thought of him doing bad things to those two girls. Once they've come to an opinion, they won't change it easily."

  "Do you teach philosophy on the side?" Niki asked. "Now that the lesson is over, and I pray to God it's over, can we get back to our problem?"

  "Sure. We
have a man accused of raping one girl who is now dead and killing another one. Our best chance to find the truth got herself blown up this morning." Drexel provided the summary.

  "She wasn't in the car when it blew up."

  "There was enough blood in it, anyway. I accept your point, but it is irrelevant. If she is dead, it doesn't make any difference how she got that way," he explained.

  "Unless—" Niki started.

  "Don't tell me. Our client was not at home this morning. Somebody saw him driving by the school." Drexel groaned.

  "I couldn't believe it when I called him. He said he thought about going to jail and had to get out and drive around to get some fresh air. He left the house a little after midnight and got back a few minutes ago."

  "Where did the fool go?" Drexel asked.

  "He said he drove around. He didn't have a plan, just wanted to get out of the house. He drove by the school before it opened this morning."

  "The guy is an idiot," Drexel blurted.

  "I don't know," Niki ran a hand through her long hair. "I might want to get out and drive around if I was facing being behind bars for the rest of my life. I've never been in that situation, so I don't know how I would react."

  "You're no better than your young friend, Niki. Both of you are way too trusting. I bet that sucker knew the test was about to expose all his lies and that's when he killed the girl and blew up the car."

  “Whoa,” Niki held up a hand. “That's a big leap from acting stupid and killing a girl.”

  "Not if he's already killed one. Let's not forget LaDonne," Drexel responded.

  "And don't forget Coach Wax," Donna added. "Coach Bailey had the motive and the opportunity to kill him."

  "Listen to your young friend, Niki. She is considering the facts and not letting emotion and feeling get in the way."

  "You're right," Niki said. "You're both right, but I still believe Billy is innocent. I know the circumstances point in the other direction, but I don't think so. Not yet."