by B J Bourg
After a brief discussion and agreeing to get together on the next day, we all entered our respective rides and headed in opposite directions.
My stomach growled several times on the short drive, and Susan offered to have a hamburger delivered to the station for me. I glanced in my rearview mirror at Dixie. It had been a long and depressing day for her, and I knew she had to be hungry. “Do you want something to eat?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
I didn’t argue. This was probably the second worse day of the woman’s life, with the first one being when she had been forced to witness the murders of Carl and his family. Gold-hungry or not, that could not have been easy for her to see.
When we arrived at the police department, Susan showed Dixie to the interview room while I headed for my office to get my file folder. Chuck was sitting in a chair in my office with his feet up on my desk, and he was snoring. I hesitated, not sure if I should wake him up. He must’ve been a light sleeper, because I didn’t have to make the final decision on that one.
“Detective!” He sprang to his feet. “Is it true?”
I pursed my lips. The news must’ve preceded our arrival. “Yeah, we got him.”
Without warning, he rushed toward me, wrapping me in a bear hug. He squeezed so tight I thought he would snap my ribs. When he pulled away, his face was glistening. “Thank you, Clint. Thank you for avenging my family’s loss.”
“This had nothing to do with vengeance. Melvin and I did what we had to do—nothing more.”
“You say it as though you’re opposed to vengeance, but God was a big fan of it,” Chuck said in a low voice. I only nodded and was about to turn away when he grabbed my arm. “The girl—that girl Dixie—is she involved?”
“According to her story, she was forced to go along with her crazy boyfriend.” I rubbed my tired face. “I don’t like the fact that she never once tried to intercede or contact us to report what Dennis was planning, but I don’t know if the DA’s office will recommend an indictment for murder.”
“I understand. I’ve been doing this long enough to know how it goes. I’ll respect their decision regarding the girl, whatever it is. At least you got the bastard who pulled the trigger. For that, I will forever be in your debt and the debt of your officer.”
“Like I said, sir, we only did what we had to do. Had he given up without a fight, he’d be sitting in that interview room right now.” I shot a thumb in the direction of the interview rooms at the opposite side of the building.
“Well, I’m glad he fought.”
Secretly, I agreed, but I dared not express that audibly. I walked out without saying another word and he followed at a distance, not sure what to do with himself. Lindsey stopped me as I walked through the dispatcher’s station on my way to the interview room.
“This fax came in for you earlier today,” she said. “It’s the DNA results on the case. I would’ve called your phone, but I knew you were tracking that criminal in the marsh and I didn’t want to disturb you.” She then turned to Susan. “Oh, and Chief, the bug spray man called and said he’ll be here tomorrow at noon to deal with the ant problem in the kitchen.”
“The bug spray man?” asked Susan. “Don’t you mean pest control?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever…”
Their voices faded off as I studied the lab results and made my way idly toward the interview room. There didn’t appear to be any surprises on the first page. Carl’s DNA was a match to the blood and tissue inside the muzzle of the shotgun, on the outside of the barrel, and on the floor beneath the chair on which he had been sitting. The technicians had located an unknown DNA sample from the release mechanism on the shotgun, and I now held the missing piece. I made a mental note to send them a known sample of Dennis’ DNA so they could confirm it was him to finalize the report.
I flipped to the next page and found that there were a ton of matches between the blood found at the scene and the other victims, which was to be expected. The third page detailed the evidence located out in the driveway and the shed. I studied it carefully. The blood recovered from the shells in Carl’s driveway and from the detective car were a match to Jennifer’s DNA. We had sent the entire link of chain recovered from Jennifer’s body to the lab to be processed, and the technicians had recovered an unknown DNA sample from one of the links. Dennis again.
I flipped to the next page to verify that the two unknown samples were from the same source, but I found myself back on the first page. Scowling, I stopped just outside the interview room and flipped through the pages again. There were only three pages, but the bottom said “three of four”. Thoughtful, I turned and made my way back to the dispatcher’s station. Susan was sitting on Lindsey’s desk talking softly when I approached them.
“Hey, a page is missing,” I said, holding up the few pages I had.
“They should all be there.” Lindsey stood and walked to the fax machine. “There were four pages. How many do you have?”
I thumbed through them. “Only three—and I was just getting to the good part.”
Lindsey rummaged through her desktop, turning over every sheet of paper and every sticky note, but the rest of the report was nowhere to be found.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll call and have them send it to me next week. They’ll have to compare the unknown sample to Dennis’ DNA before they conclude the case anyway.” I set the report down on the desk and turned to Susan. “Are you coming into the interview with me?”
She frowned and nodded. She knew we were about to hear a firsthand account of how those innocent children had been slaughtered, and it wasn’t something either of us relished.
CHAPTER 48
Remembering everything that Dixie had said in her recorded statement to Mallory while they were out on the water, I listened intently to what she was saying now. I didn’t interrupt her much, except to ask for a clarification here and there. She broke down and cried often, and I waited patiently until she was ready to speak again.
“At any point did you handle the shotgun or the pistol?” I asked.
“No, sir. I’ve never touched either one of them.”
“Never?”
She shook her head from side to side. “I’m deathly afraid of guns. I’ve never shot a gun in my life. And Dennis knew how scared I was of guns, and he used that against me.”
I sighed and asked her to go on. When she was finished telling her story, I sat back and studied her, wondering what to do. It was late in the evening now, and I decided I would wait until morning to contact someone from the district attorney’s office. They were closed on weekends, but I had the cell phone number to the first assistant district attorney.
“Look, Dixie, I’m going to place you under arrest for principal to home invasion. You’re going to have to spend the night here.”
“But I didn’t know he was going to kill anyone!” Her face was red and streaked with tears. “I was afraid of him, that’s why I didn’t say anything. I’m a victim.”
“I understand,” I said in a soothing voice. “That’s why it’s a home invasion charge and not first degree murder. I understand you were scared once the killing started and you realized he was capable of murder, but before that—back at your house when he was planning the home invasion—you could’ve opted out. You could’ve made a phone call to the police department. You could’ve done something—anything.” I stopped and frowned as she began crying hysterically. “Look, I’m going to consult with the district attorney and we’ll go from there. They may want to put the case before the grand jury.”
“But he threatened to kill me if I didn’t go along!” She wailed. “This isn’t right!”
I nodded grimly. “I understand and I’m sorry, but it’s what I have to do.”
Her body trembled as her cries subsided to a low whimper, and she continued crying while I led her to one of the jail cells and locked her inside. The other cell was gone. Susan had told me earlier that Philip Crenshaw had bee
n magistrated via satellite and gotten out on a $10,000 bond. “He swore to never set foot in Mechant Loup again and then he nearly ran out the door,” she had said.
I didn’t like that I’d suspected the man of murder, but it had seemed too much of a coincidence that he’d burglarized Carl’s home in order to steal the same map that had gotten everyone killed. Unfortunately, he would never be tried for the burglary, because the victims were deceased.
I pondered Crenshaw’s situation more as Susan and I walked to the dispatcher’s station. I suddenly realized my arrest had probably saved his life. Had he not been sitting securely in jail—which was arguably the safest place in town, thanks to our hurricane-proof building—he would have surely ended up dead like Nathan.
I was about to present my theory to Susan when I paused and looked around. “Where’s Chuck?”
“He said he was heading back to La Mort,” Lindsey said. “He looked so sad. I’m really worried about him.”
I nodded and frowned. Worried he would kill himself, I began thinking of who I could call to check on him when something on the floor caught my eye. It was a single sheet of paper and one corner of it was sticking out from under the fax machine. Frowning, I walked over and bent to pick it up. It was the rest of the lab report.
“Here it is!” I declared. “It was on the floor the whole time.”
Lindsey jumped from her chair and shoved both hands on her hips. “Hey, I looked there at least three times! I even moved the machine. I swear to God I didn’t see it.”
I shrugged. “No biggie. At least we have it—”
I clamped my mouth shut when I read the results of the DNA comparison.
Susan moved quickly to my side when she saw my eyes bugging out. “What’s going on?”
I turned the page so she could see and she swore out loud. “That bitch!”
Without another word spoken between us, I sat at an old typewriter in the corner for a minute, plugging away at the keys, and then Susan and I headed for the jail cell. Susan beat me to the keys that hung on a far wall and flung the cell door open. “Get your ass out of that bed!” she demanded.
Dixie, who was rolled up in a blanket on the top bunk, opened her swollen eyes in confusion. “What…what’s going on?”
I doubted she had fallen asleep yet, but it was certainly possible. Susan could fall asleep in eight seconds flat, but, of course, she had a clear conscience. If Dixie had been sleeping, Susan was giving her a rude awakening.
“We’re not done talking.” Susan jerked the blankets off of her and grabbed her arm. “Walk your ass into that interview room before I drag you down the hall by the hair.”
“But…what…I don’t understand.”
“Oh, you will.”
I said nothing as Susan ushered Dixie into the interview room we’d vacated only a few minutes earlier. I was okay with her taking the lead on the interview, and I took the chair farthest from Dixie while Susan sat directly across from the woman.
“I want you to tell your story again starting from the time you got Carl Duval to open his door, but this time I want you to tell me the truth.”
“I…I did. I told you everything.”
“I’m afraid you left some parts out.”
“No, ma’am. I told you everything I remembered, from beginning to end.”
“So, then, is it possible you forgot some parts?”
“No, I remember everything. I mean, I might have forgotten some small details, like if the lights in the kitchen were on or not, but I remember all the important things.”
“Then how do you explain this?” Susan turned page four of the DNA lab report so Dixie could see it and then sat back with her arms folded across her chest, waiting.
I studied Dixie closely as her finger slid from side to side, starting at the top left of the page and working her way down. I recognized the precise moment she saw the pertinent part of the report. Her red face suddenly faded to an ashy gray color and her skin tightened, causing the lines of worry to disappear. When she looked up, there was a glint of evil in her eyes. She shrugged in a boring manner and slid the report back toward Susan.
I glanced at Susan and watched as her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she asked Dixie.
“There’s not much I can say.” Dixie’s tone was suddenly matter-of-fact. “You’ve got my DNA on the murder weapon. I’ve watched enough Dateline to know what that means.”
According to the lab report, the DNA on the shotgun and the DNA on the chain that had bound Jennifer had been deposited by a female contributor. Knowing it had only been Dennis and Dixie in Carl Duval’s house during the murder, I was certain it had to be her DNA on the weapon. Thus, I’d used the typewriter in the dispatcher’s office to add her name to the report preceded by the phrase: Positive Match. It was a bit of trickery, but nothing that would shock the conscience of the court.
“Why’d you do it?” Susan asked in a strained voice. “How could you murder those children?”
“Thanks to my mom’s dumbass doctor’s mistake, I had a hysterectomy at nineteen and I’ve never been able to have kids.” Dixie shrugged again. “If I can’t have kids, why should anyone else be able to have them?”
“You killed Carl’s kids because you couldn’t have kids yourself?” Susan asked incredulously.
“No, of course not. I killed them because he wouldn’t give us the treasure map. My not being able to have kids just made it easier for me to do it.”
“That’s bullshit. Women who can’t have kids treasure them even more.” Susan leaned closer to Dixie. “You’re an evil little bitch and I hope I’m still around to witness your execution.”
“I won’t be executed. Juries don’t sentence women to death in this day and age. Hell, I probably won’t even be found guilty.” She grinned. “You’ll see. Once I finish explaining how Dennis took advantage of me and forced me to kill those poor children in order to save my own life, no jurors in their right mind will sentence me to life imprison, much less death. In the worst case scenario, I’ll plead guilty to manslaughter and they’ll send me to a women’s correctional institution where I’ll get a college degree while opening a jailhouse church. I’ll eat better than I do now and I’ll have lots of friends. And then, one day not too many years from now, I’ll be able to apply for clemency, and it’ll be granted, because I’ll be a model prisoner and they’ll realize I was telling the truth when I said Dennis influenced me.”
I could hardly listen to her babbling bullshit any longer and stood to my feet. “I only have two questions,” I said. “How many of the victims in the house did you kill?”
“All of them.”
I hesitated, a little surprised. “And Detective Jennifer Duval…who hit her in the head?”
“That was Dennis. He had a rare moment of bravery and struck her with the old pistol his dad gave him.”
“What about Nathan?”
She yawned and waved a hand dismissively. “He’s never had a piece of ass, so when I showed up to his house wearing a miniskirt, a tank top, and no bra, he just about begged me to come in. Hell, if I would’ve flashed him, he probably would’ve cut his own fingers off.”
“Did you have to torture him?”
“Yeah. He wouldn’t give up the map at first. I tell you one thing; that boy was tough—a lot tougher than Dennis—and it took us sawing off five fingers before he told us where to find the map. Dennis didn’t want to kill him, but he had seen our faces, so we had no choice. I stabbed him until he was dead and then we left. We set out the next day to find the treasure, and that’s when you assholes showed up and ruined everything.”
Susan’s fists were clenched as she stared intently at Dixie. After a long moment, she stood slowly and told Dixie to rise to her feet. Dixie hesitated, and then followed Susan’s instructions. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but I knew Susan wouldn’t abuse the woman.
Without saying anything more, Susan escorted Dixie to the j
ail cell and locked her up. I watched from the hallway, numb with disgust. I had been initially surprised that Dixie had been the one to kill the kids, but when I watched how swiftly she’d changed from a grieving victim to something cold and evil, I realized she was capable of anything.
“Are you ready to go home?” I asked Susan an hour later when I had completed the arrest report on Dixie and contacted the Chateau Parish Detention Center for a transport. “I’ll come out later today”—it was already Saturday morning—“and meet with Mallory about the search warrant. There’s no need to contact the district attorney’s office, because this bitch is gone. After I meet with Mallory, I’ll spend the rest of the day with you and Gracie.”
She nodded wearily and we walked out the door hand in hand. I felt strangely empty. Sure, the case had been solved and the persons responsible brought to justice, but it did nothing to bring back Chuck’s children and grandchildren, or poor Ms. Francine. I couldn’t call it bitter sweet, because there was nothing sweet about it at all. It was just a sad case all the way around.
CHAPTER 49
Although it had been almost five o’clock by the time Susan and I had showered and gotten to bed, I was up before eight. I grabbed a banana and a bottle of water for breakfast and found Achilles and Coco in the back yard. I sat on the back swing and had my breakfast with them. They frolicked around in the thick clovers, playfully nipping at each other. I thought it looked like they were flirting, but I couldn’t be sure. One thing was certain—ever since Coco came around, Achilles was acting more dignified. He didn’t pull some of the goofy stunts he used to pull. I grinned, getting it. I felt the same way when I was around Susan.
When my bottle was empty, I stood and walked over to tell them goodbye. I then left and headed for the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office. I called the police department as I drove and Beth answered. Beth Gandy usually dispatched on the weekends for us, and I was a little worried about how she would react to this case, because she had also suffered a great loss in her life. She sounded cheerful enough when she answered the phone.