Accused

by Michael Kerr

  Any resolve that Dwayne had harbored dissolved like the blood merging with the water in the bottom of the bathtub. The guy in front of him was big, mean, and had proved that he was more than happy to use violence.

  “Nathan Cassidy,” Dwayne said.

  “What’s his claim to fame?”

  “He owns a chain of restaurants, and he lends money.”

  “So he’s a loan shark?”

  Dwayne nodded.

  “What were you and the other two doing at the diner?”

  “Dicky owes the boss a lot of money. We were there to collect or get him to sign the joint over. It all went south when Kyle hit you and then shot the guy you were with.”

  “Did Cassidy tell you to find and kill us?”

  “Just the waitress. You weren’t a consideration till we saw you with her and recognized you from the diner.”

  “Give me Cassidy’s and LaSalle’s addresses.”

  Dwayne did.

  “Are their numbers in your cell?”

  Dwayne spat out blood and nodded.

  Logan asked a lot more questions, mainly about Cassidy, and believed the answers that he was given to be true. He stood up, leaned over and hauled Dwayne into a sitting position, before punching him twice on the left temple with enough force to put him back to sleep, or maybe even cause bleeding on the brain. He didn’t care which.

  Ellie Mae brewed two cups of coffee and sipped some and winced at both the bitter taste of it and the sounds that were coming from the bathroom.

  When Logan came out he had spots of blood on his clothes. He took one of the cups from her and drank some of the coffee.

  “What did you do to him?” Ellie Mae said.

  “I asked him a few questions, and then put him back to sleep,” Logan said before draining the plastic cup. “There’s a pickup truck at the side of the office, I’ll go and get it and then we can get the hell out of here.”

  “And go where?” Ellie Mae said. “Shouldn’t we call the police and tell them what happened?”

  “I’ll make the call before we leave. As for where we go, you can stay here and wait for them if you want. But with what has gone down so far I don’t trust them with my life. Do you?”

  Ellie Mae decided that her best chance of surviving was to stick with the stranger who’d saved her. She said nothing. Just put the cup down on the dresser next to the TV and stood there feeling scared and having no idea what the future had in store for her.

  Logan put his hand on her shoulder, gently, and said, “Try not to worry too much, Ellie. I’ll do what needs to be done to end this.”

  The car key was on the desktop in the office, attached to a fob that advertised the motel. Logan took it and went back out and around to where the plum-colored Ford F-150 was parked. He climbed in, racked the seat back for extra leg room, and started it up. Satisfied that it was roadworthy he climbed out, returned to the office and made a call, then drove round to park the pickup outside the door of room nine.

  Lucy got the call. She was asleep at home in her duplex on 20th Street when her cell phone treated her to the first few notes of Louis Armstrong’s Basin Street Blues.

  “I have a guy by the name of Logan saying you need to talk to him,” Martha Williams, the dispatcher, said to Lucy. “You want I should put him through?”

  “Yes, Martha,” Lucy said.

  There was a click, then: “That you Detective Pleshette?”

  “It’s late Mr. Logan. What’s on your mind?”

  “This and that. I want to report a double homicide. One of the perps is Dwayne Nash from the diner; the other was most likely Clayton LaSalle, but I didn’t get to eyeball him. Nash is now awaiting collection, but LaSalle got away.”

  “Where are you calling from?”

  “All in good time, Detective. Nash and LaSalle were at the diner to lean on Dicky for monies he owes to their employer, Nathan Cassidy. After the killings, Cassidy told them to find the waitress and get rid of her.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Because when they showed up at the motel I had a word with the one who is now unconscious in the bathtub.”

  “Who got killed?”

  “The trooper that was outside in his patrol car, babysitting us. And the manager or owner of the motel.”

  “The Pilgrims’ Rest?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that where you’re calling from?”

  “No,” Logan lied. “We’re on the move. Being around law enforcement has proved to be a hazard to our health.”

  “We need to interview you.”

  “And we need to stay under the radar. I’ll get back to you, later.”

  After he had ended the call and driven round to the room, he picked up his rucksack and said to Ellie Mae, “C’mon, let’s go. This place will be crawling with cops in a few minutes.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Logan shrugged. He needed to change the plate on the back of the pickup, and to then find somewhere out of the way to park up until daylight.

  There would be a BOLO – be on the lookout – for them both, and the police would soon work out that he’d taken the vehicle, so he would not keep it for longer than necessary.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DRIVING south on Barataria Blvd, Logan stopped once at a country store to buy some bottled water and prepackaged sandwiches, and then at a subdivision a little farther along. Almost all the houses were in darkness, and so he swapped plates with a Kia that was parked in a palm-sheltered driveway.

  Less than eight minutes later he stopped again, off the highway near a canoe launch point that was out of sight in the woods that were part of the Jean Lafitte Preserve. There was an office and a boatshed at the canal head. They were rustic, with no CCTV or security lights. It was just a place where anglers and boaters could pay a few bucks to launch their own or rented craft during daylight hours and sail or paddle out to one of the big lakes.

  “You want to stay in the truck or in the office?” Logan said after he’d switched off the lights and engine and was considering breaking in to one of the buildings.

  “In the truck,” Ellie Mae said. “This place is mainly swamp and marsh, full of gators, snakes and God knows what else.”

  “Fine,” Logan said as he took Nash’s cell out of his jacket pocket. “Best try getting a few hours’ sleep.”

  “Sleep! You must be freakin’ joking. I’m scared out of my wits. People are trying to kill me, so excuse me if I seem to be more than a little tense.”

  “Three quarters of the world’s population are scared of something,” Logan said. “And a lot of them have no expectation of being anything else. Every day is about survival, pure and simple. All they know is fear and misery their entire lives.”

  “I hear you, Logan, loud and clear, but the here and now have my full and undivided attention. I do care about all the bad stuff that is going down in the world, but my own safety is front and center at this moment in time, and if that’s a selfish way of thinking, then so be it. I’m the wrong side of forty, am on my own with my best years behind me, and they weren’t anything much to shout about. Maybe I haven’t had it as hard as a lot of other folk, but it’s all relative. Serving junk food in greasy spoon dumps like Dicky’s was not the future I envisaged back when I was in high school.”

  “What is, is,” Logan said. “You have to deal with it the best you can and move on.”

  “So what’s your story?” Ellie Mae said. “Who are you?”

  “Nobody,” Logan said as he passed one of the sandwiches across. “I’m just a guy that seems to get caught up in other people’s problems every once in a while. I do my best to live my own life without complications, but shit happens.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Staten Island, originally. It doesn’t matter. Where we’re born and die are just places that have had names given to them. And the dates of both are just numbers. I was in the army, and then I was a cop, and now I just move around and see w
hat I see and do what I do.”

  “So you don’t have a place to call home?” Ellie Mae said as she struggled to open the plastic container, suddenly ravenous.

  “No, Ellie. I like to keep on the move these days,” Logan said as he took the package back and tore the top off with ease. “I guess I’ve outgrown the need to be in one place for too long. Life’s short, so why sweat it and be discontented. I’m not a home loving man. I’ve developed an aversion to commitment or routine, or the thought of having to do anything that doesn’t sit right in my mind.”

  “A real loner, huh?”

  “I guess that’s the bottom line. I don’t need to be a component of someone else’s life. It has its attraction, but I know that nothing lasts forever, so choose not to be a part of something ephemeral.”

  Ellie Mae didn’t know what else to say to the man who’d saved her life, so just reclined the seat and ate the bland chicken salad sandwich. Funny, but she felt almost safe with him sitting next to her. There was some kind of power he generated that made her think he could guard her against anything and anybody.

  Logan took a swig of water, got out of the pickup, walked over to the dock next to the office and switched on the cell to scroll through the contacts and call Nathan Cassidy’s number, which was listed under NC. It rang a half dozen times before the call was accepted.

  “It’s a little late to be phoning me, Dwayne. You woke me up, so let’s hope that what you have to say is of the utmost importance.”

  “This isn’t Dwayne,” Logan said. “I’m just in possession of his phone. I reckoned you would want to be aware as to the current state of play, Cassidy.”

  “I don’t know who you are, and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Loosely translated, that means you’re wondering if I’m a cop, and so you won’t say anything that could incriminate you. I guess this will be a one-sided conversation. My name is Logan, and I was at the Diner when your less than able three stooges called by to collect money off Dicky. Nash, LaSalle and Tate lost the plot and six people died, including Tate, who got shot gunned in the back at close range by Dicky and wound up looking like a strawberry jelly-filled ring doughnut.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.”

  “That’s not the impression I got from Nash. He told me everything about you and your loan sharking operation. And that you’d ordered him and LaSalle to kill the waitress that ran away from the diner.

  “They came to the motel that I took her to when we left police headquarters; killed the trooper who was parked in the lot, and then the motel owner. La Salle got away, but I detained Nash and convinced him to sing like a bluebird. I left him fast asleep and gift wrapped for the police. I would imagine he’s in custody by now.”

  “Like I said, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about…Logan. And anything that one of my employees was coerced into saying under duress is not something he would repeat to the authorities. You can be assured that no one will implicate me with any wrongdoing.”

  “But we both know the truth of it, which leaves you with a big problem.”

  “Define big problem.”

  “Me. I’m in the wind, Cassidy. I have no fixed abode and no family to worry about. You, on the other hand, have a wife and children, and I know where you live, which country club you belong to, and a whole lot more besides.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Absolutely. If the waitress so much as catches a cold or cuts a finger making a sandwich, it’s down to you. I’m going to hold you personally responsible for her continued good health and safety. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I have a problem with you, Logan. I’m a businessman, pure and simple, and have no connection whatsoever to the events you’re talking about.”

  “And the moon is made of cheese. What you’ll do when I end the call is put the word out that you want me found and dealt with. I’ll contact you again in twenty-four hours to see if you still think it worth while having a potential witness to what went down at Dicky’s whacked.”

  Switching off the cell, Logan pocketed it and considered how best to keep out of Cassidy’s and the police’s clutches. He knew that both parties would do their utmost to locate both him and Ellie.

  There were a few worse-for-wear aluminum canoes stacked at the rear of the boatshed. The top one was holed in the side, the second was similarly damaged, but the third one down seemed to be fit for purpose. It was dented and scratched as if it had been mauled by a grizzly bear, but would most likely stay afloat. There was also a selection of both plastic and wooden paddles sticking out the top of an oil barrel.

  Ellie Mae lit a cigarette and watched Logan standing in the moonlight. He was making a phone call. When he’d finished up he wandered over to one of the buildings and vanished from sight for a couple of minutes. She guessed, wrongly, that he’d gone to take a leak.

  “We need to ditch the pickup,” Logan said as he opened the driver’s door and reached in for his rucksack. “The police will already be looking for it, so I need to make it vanish, now.”

  “And walk out of here?” Ellie Mae said.

  “No, I’ve found other means of transport.”

  Ellie Mae got out and stood next to Logan’s rucksack as he drove the pickup more than a hundred yards over long grass and through a gap in thick foliage that surrounded the graveled parking lot at the canal head.

  Driving in through bushes and trees until the front tires began to sink in the swampy ground, Logan put the truck in park, switched off the ignition and lights, got out and tossed the key into the mangroves, and walked back to where Ellie Mae was nervously waiting.

  “This way,” he said as he lifted the rucksack and headed for the boatshed.

  Ellie Mae followed on. She was sure that he had found another vehicle, and was puzzled when he stopped at the rear of the building, just thirty feet from a slipway into the canal.

  Logan pointed at the pile of canoes.

  “Tell me that you don’t plan on us taking a canoe trip in the middle of the freakin’ night,” Ellie Mae said.

  Logan said nothing. Just went over to the stack of narrow, lightweight boats and slid the top two off and pulled the third from the rack.

  “You do realize that there are alligators in there, don’t you?” Ellie Mae said.

  “So don’t fall out and you’ll be fine,” Logan said as he went over to the barrel and selected the best couple of discarded paddles that he could find. “We need to disappear for a while, and not be where anyone would look for us. Okay?”

  “Not okay. Where the hell do you plan on paddling to? You don’t know the area. We could get lost and die out there.”

  Logan sighed and said: “It’s a canal. We’ll follow it as far as we need to and stop when we find somewhere suitable. You need―”

  “I need my pathetic but safe life back, Logan.”

  “That won’t happen if you don’t get with the program, Ellie. Do you know anything about a guy by the name of Nathan Cassidy?”

  “Yeah, he owns a chain of family restaurants and even appears on TV in commercials for them. Why?”

  “Because Cassidy is also a big-time loan shark, and wants us both killed. He has the money and resources to make it happen. I’ve had dealings with hoodlums like him in the past. He’ll have connections in all the right places, including law enforcement, so the bottom line is that we can’t afford to trust anyone to save our asses. We’re out on our own.”

  Ellie Mae took what Logan said on board and knew that he was the only person that she could trust, with the exception of her mother, who lived in a mid-rise apartment building in Baton Rouge.

  “My Mom lives in Baton Rouge,” Ellie Mae said. “We could go up there and stay with her for a few days.”

  “Help me get this canoe in the water and I’ll explain why that’s a bad idea,” Logan said as he put the paddles and his rucksack in the boat and lifted up the front end.

 
Ellie Mae lifted up the back end and they walked down the slip and set it in the water and climbed in.

  “So tell me what the problem is with going to my Mom’s place,” Ellie Mae said as she picked up one of the paddles.

  Logan took Nash’s phone out of his pocket, twisted round, handed it to her and said, “Cassidy will run checks on you and find out everything about you and everyone you know. He’ll soon have your mother’s address. Give her a call and tell her to move out until we know it’s safe for her to return. If she stays there she’ll be in the line of fire.”

  “Jesus, this just goes from bad to worse,” Ellie Mae said as she punched up her mother’s number.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BETTY Grant reached out in the darkness and knocked the book she had been reading earlier on to the floor as her fingers fumbled to find the cell on top of the nightstand. Calls at that ungodly time never brought good news.

  Betty was gummy-eyed and still half asleep as she accepted the call and said, “Hello.”

  “It’s me, Mom,” Ellie Mae said. “Sorry to be phoning you in the middle of the night, but we need to talk.”

  “Are you okay, honey?” Betty said as she switched on the lamp and saw that it was gone four a.m.

  “Long story short, I’m in a bind. I witnessed a murder, and now some gangster is hell-bent on having me found and…and stopped from making it to a witness stand.”

  “Are you with the police?”

  “No, Mom. I’m with someone that can look after me. Problem is the people concerned will find out that you’re my mother and pay you a visit. You’re not safe at home. You have to go somewhere else for the time being.”

  Betty let what Ellie Mae said sink in. Her daughter was not prone to exaggeration or overreaction.

  “I’ll do that, honey. Stay out of harm’s way and keep in touch.”

  “I’ll call you tonight, and―”

  “No,” Logan said. “Tell her to switch her cell off and take the SIM card out. It’s a stretch, but they may have the capability to trace it.”