But Not Forgotten: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 1)

by BJ Bourg

  Water gently lapped the sides of the boats and that was the only sound as we all stared down at what used to be Hays Cain. The skin around his lips had been eaten away by marine life and his eyes bulged.

  “It looks like he’s got a giant grin on his face,” Susan said idly.

  “God, Sue!” Melvin’s face twisted in disgust. “That’s a gross thing to say.”

  “No, look at it.” Susan pointed. “That’s what it looks like.”

  I scowled when I saw the hole in his forehead, leaned closer. “Single shot to the forehead. Chloe was right—he was murdered.”

  Susan’s head snapped around. “What do you mean Chloe was right?”

  “She got a call from someone who told her Hays had been murdered.”

  “And when were you going to tell me this?” Susan’s eyes were narrow.

  “I just told you. Look, she told me this yesterday—right before your fight. I wasn’t about to interrupt your fight to tell you. I was scared you’d mistake me for that muscle-bound freak and attack me.”

  “Fat chance,” Susan muttered.

  “Hey!” Melvin protested. “I’m sure you can kick my ass, Sue, but I’m not going to let you call Chief Wolf fat. I’d have you know he humped out of these here swamps in alligator-infested—”

  “Simmer down, cowboy.” Susan started laughing. “I didn’t call him fat, but it’s nice to know you have his back.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you said he was fat.” Melvin scowled. “I’d have your back, too. We’re a family. We should all stick together and get along.”

  I chuckled. “Well, brother and sister, let’s get Mr. Cain out of here so we can get the autopsy done and put the poor man to rest.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Monday, June 30

  “So, what you’re saying is,” Mayor Landry began, “someone shot Hays Cain point blank in the forehead, wrapped a chain around his waist, tied cinder blocks to his body, and dumped him in the bayou?”

  I nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  “Why in the hell would someone do that?” Mayor Landry leaned back in his chair and gripped the edge of his desk with large hands. “Do you have any leads? Anything at all?”

  “We know he was shot with a nine millimeter pistol. We sent it off to be compared to the projectile we recovered from Kelly Dykes’ murder scene.” I hesitated, then said, “Chloe did receive an anonymous call before we found Hays’ body. The caller said Hays had been murdered. He also told Chloe that Hays said something to Kelly Dykes about some secret he had and that was why she was killed—she knew too much. He was right about Hayes being murdered, so…”

  Mayor Landry was thoughtful, then opened the top desk drawer, pulled out a set of keys, tossed them to me. “These are for your new Tahoe. Drive down to Randall’s dealership and pick it up. It’s solid black and fully loaded.”

  “I don’t need a new vehicle. That Tahoe is plenty good enough.”

  Mayor Landry waved his hand. “That thing’s cursed. It’s Beaver’s old ride. I don’t want you sitting where that piece of shit sat. Besides, I’ll need you to pick up the governor and his colonel from the airport when they come to town, and I don’t want you picking them up in that old ride.”

  I stared down at Mayor Landry. “You want me to do what?”

  Mayor Landry raised his hands. “Look, Nick told me you don’t like the man, but this is bigger than you and him.”

  I don’t like him? That’s putting it mildly. “I’ll get Melvin or Susan to pick him up.”

  “Clint, this is a big deal. First off, we can’t have the governor or the colonel sitting in the backseat of a patrol cruiser. Second, and most importantly, if anyone less than you picks him up, it’ll be viewed as an insult. Please—can I count on you?”

  I pursed my lips, then nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

  “By the way, what happened to your face?”

  “It’s just a scratch.” I brushed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and shoved the Tahoe keys into my pocket. I walked out into the smothering morning air and took a deep breath to calm myself. I could only think of four people I hated more than the governor—and one of them was dead.

  My phone rang. Still unsure exactly how to use the thing, I got it to stop beeping in my hand and held it to my ear. “This is Clint.”

  “Hey, you, what’s up?” It was Chloe’s soft voice.

  I smiled and my muscles suddenly relaxed. “How are you, Chloe?”

  “Good, good. Do you have plans tonight?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “What’s that mean? Do you have people who work your calendar? Do my people have to call your people?”

  “I mean, no, I don’t have plans.”

  “Great. I’m picking you up at your house at six and I’m taking you to dinner.”

  “I thought you were cooking and coming over?” The words spilled from my mouth before I realized I was saying them. I slapped my forehead.

  “Well, that sounded good at the time, but, to be honest, I can’t cook worth shit.”

  I laughed. “We can do whatever you like.”

  “Great! See you at six.”

  My phone went dead, and I stood there with a goofy grin on my face. What was it about Chloe that made me feel that way? Happy, even. Was there something special about her, or was it simply the perfume? I shrugged and shoved the phone back into my pocket and jumped into my Tahoe. Don’t overanalyze it. Just roll with it.

  I drove to the office, parked along the highway and hurried through the front door. I found Lindsey leaning back in her chair with her feet on her desk. She had a book in her hands and was so engrossed in what she was reading that she didn’t notice me walk in.

  “’Morning, Lindsey.”

  “Shit!” She jerked in her chair and the book flew across the room and hit the wall with a thud.

  I laughed. “It must be a good book.”

  “God, I think I had a heart attack.” She rubbed her chest and looked up at me. Her eyes turned curious when she saw my nose, but she didn’t mention it. “Why are you so happy? I’ve known you for a week and never seen you smile.”

  “No reason.” I walked into my office, where Melvin was already waiting for me. “You got it?”

  Melvin nodded. “He cleaned it up a little, but it’s still difficult to hear. He said the poor quality of the original recording made it difficult to enhance.”

  I sat behind my desk and waited while Melvin set up the voice message from Kelly Dykes’ phone. When he played it, I scowled. “It doesn’t sound much different.”

  “He said it wouldn’t.”

  “Well, we know for sure the second man talking is the shooter because the first man asked him why he shot Hays.” I flipped my hands upward. “Other than that, we’ve got nothing.”

  Melvin placed the compact disc back into the evidence envelope. “What are we going to do next? I mean, where do we go from here?”

  “Other than interview everyone who knew him? I’m not sure.” I spun around in my chair and stared out at the street in front of the office. There wasn’t much traffic. The sun was bright and reflected off my shattered headlight. I surged to my feet and walked closer to the window. “He wasn’t trying to kill us!”

  “Who?” Melvin wanted to know.

  “The shooter from the other day…every bullet he fired at Kelly Dykes, who was running for her life, found its mark. She was a moving target, and he still hit her every time. That takes some skill.”

  Melvin grunted. “I couldn’t do that.”

  I spun to face him. “Susan and I were sitting ducks when he fired the first shot. He could’ve taken us out easily—shot at least one of us—but he didn’t. Instead, he blew out the headlight and taillight. Both were great shots from that distance.” I shook my head. “That wasn’t an accident. He deliberately missed us. He didn’t want us dead.”

  Melvin frowned. “But why not?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe he just wanted to scare us
enough to facilitate his escape.” I turned back to the window and stared thoughtfully at my Tahoe. “We need to find a good reason to kill Hays.”

  “Um, he’s already dead.”

  I turned, smiling. “You know what I mean. Once we figure out why someone wanted him dead, it’ll be easier to find out who killed him.”

  “I’m sure his wife wanted him dead,” Melvin suggested.

  “True, but it’s definitely not her voice on the recording.”

  “Maybe she hired a couple of assassins to kill him for her. They only kill for money and certainly don’t want to bring more heat on themselves, so they intentionally missed you and Susan.”

  “Ah, that is a thought.”

  “Chief, you…” Melvin hesitated.

  “What is it, Melvin?”

  “I don’t know. You seem happy today.”

  I smiled. “It’s because I am happy.”

  Melvin’s face lit up into a giant grin. “You got a hot date or something?”

  “Or something.” I touched the outside of my pocket and felt a jagged object, suddenly remembering the Tahoe keys. I jerked them out. “I’ll be back, Melvin. I’m going pick up my new ride.”

  I called Susan on the way to Randall Rupe’s car dealership. When she answered, I asked, “Are you busy right now?”

  “I’m just getting back from the crime lab. The firearms examiner said she’d have something by this afternoon.”

  “Great. Thanks. Now, do you want to go undercover?”

  “It depends what I have to do. I won’t do a prostitution sting or—”

  “No!” I laughed. “Nothing like that. I want to kick a hornet’s nest and want you to be there to see it, but I don’t want anyone to see you.”

  “Sounds fun. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 29

  “Well, look here. You finally decided to come get your new wheels. We’ve got you all fixed up and ready to go. I just need you to sign some papers and you’ll be set.” Randall Rupe slapped my back and led the way down the long hallway to his office, calling over his shoulder, “It looks like you got hit with an airbag.”

  “Something like that.” When we were seated in his office, Randall shuffled some papers, stamped some forms, and then pushed a few to my side of the table to be signed. I signed the highlighted sections and slid them back.

  “Malcolm told me he already gave you the keys—is that right?”

  I pulled them from my pocket so he could see. “I’ve got them.”

  Randall stood and extended his hand. “Well, that about sums it—”

  “Not so fast.” I remained seated, leaned back in my chair. “I have a few questions for you before I go.”

  “Questions?” He slowly withdrew his hand and sank back into his seat. “About what?”

  “Your good friend, Hays Cain, of course.” I studied his face. His eyes were shifty; his neck jumped with each beat of his heart. “When was it that you last spoke to him or saw him?”

  Randall looked up, licked his lips. “Um, I guess it was Friday.”

  “Spoke with him or saw him?”

  “I…I didn’t see him.”

  “So, you talked to him on the phone?”

  Randall nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “What did y’all talk about?”

  “Small talk. You know how it goes with friends.”

  “Did he say what he was doing? Where he was going?”

  Randall glanced at his gold wristwatch. “Excuse me, Chief, but I have a meeting in exactly two minutes with my sales team.”

  “I understand.” I stood to go. “Thank you for talking with me.”

  “Anything to help a friend,” Randall said, standing with me. He didn’t extend his hand this time.

  I started to walk out, but stopped at the door to stare Randall directly in the eyes. “You’ll be happy to know that we have a solid lead on your friend’s murder.”

  “You do?”

  “We do.” I nodded. “It seems Hays accidentally butt-dialed his girlfriend and the conversation between his killer and another man was recorded.”

  Randall’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

  “We sent the recording off for voice-recognition analysis.” I said. “We should have the results back any day now. Hell, by this time next week, the murderer will be locked in a cell at the police station awaiting trial for murder.”

  The color drained from Randall’s face.

  “By the way, Randall, how’d you know Hays was dead?”

  “You know how word travels in this town. I heard y’all pulled someone out the lake and figured it was Hays.”

  “I’m not talking about today.”

  Randall’s thick brows turned to a V. “What, then, are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about when I interviewed you on Wednesday.”

  “I don’t follow you, Chief.”

  “We found Hays’ body yesterday, but you were speaking about him in past tense last Wednesday. What did you know that we didn’t know?”

  Randall glared at me. “I don’t like the accusatory nature of your questioning.”

  “Well then, I guess I’ll be in touch later.” I held up the keys, smiled and walked out into the large garage where my new Tahoe was waiting. As I left the parking lot, I saw Randall watching me through the showroom window.

  I grabbed my radio and keyed it up. “Heads up, Susan. I’m leaving.”

  “I’m in place,” Susan replied.

  “Good. Meet me back at the office later.”

  “Ten-four.”

  I stopped at the hospital before heading back to the office, and a nurse led me to Dexter Boudreaux’s room. “How’s it hanging, Mr. Boudreaux?”

  Dexter lifted what remained of his left arm. The color had returned to his face. “Ain’t nothing hanging on this side. It does look like I’m doing a little better than you, though. At least my moneymaker”—he rubbed his face with his good hand—“wasn’t damaged.”

  “I’m real sorry about everything. I feel like my inexperience might have contributed to what happened.”

  “Nonsense! It ain’t your fault, son. When you’re getting after gators, sometimes you’re the one that gets got.” Dexter tapped the end of his nub. “If the Good Lord Himself was with me there’s nothing he could’ve done to save this arm. It was meant to be.”

  I scowled. “I still don’t like it.”

  “Well, like it or not, it can’t be changed, so get over it.” Dexter reached over with his good hand and grabbed a glass of water from the bed table. He drank deep from it and put it back. “Doc tells me I’ll be out of here in no time. As soon as he lets me out of this prison, I’m going back after that gator.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Chief, if a bad guy got away from you, would you just give up or would you keep going after him until you got him?”

  I shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right. Now, Denise tells me the town’s been going to shit—said Hays Cain was murdered.”

  “That’s right. His body was dumped somewhere along Bayou Tail last weekend.”

  Dexter’s brow furrowed. “I was out on the water last weekend. Didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. It was quiet. I only saw one other boat. Maybe they saw something because I passed by early in the day and stayed at my camp that night.”

  “Did you know them?”

  “One of them was a stranger, but the other man was Randall Rupe. They were in Randall’s boat.”

  “Wait—Randall Rupe was out on the water last weekend?”

  “Yeah. We were the only ones out there.”

  “Does Randall go out on the water a lot?”

  Dexter shrugged. “I’ve seen him from time to time. He does a little fishing, but that’s all.”

  “Did you talk to them?”

  “No. I saw them from a distance. I was getting my camp ready for the alligator season and
didn’t have time to stop and talk.”

  “Can you describe the man?”

  “Nope. Even if I did get a good look at him it would’ve been difficult to recognize him. He was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses.”

  “Were they moving?”

  “No, they were stopped at the edge of the bayou. Randall had a line in the water and the other guy looked like he was messing with his bait.”

  I frowned. “Where on Bayou Tail?”

  “South of the lake.”

  “How far south?”

  Dexter shrugged. “About eight miles.”

  My blood ran cold. Randall Rupe dumped Hays Cain’s body!

  I rushed out of the hospital, dialing Susan’s number as I jogged to my new Tahoe. She answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Clint?”

  “Where the hell are you? Are you still watching Randall? Did he go mobile?”

  “Paradise Place…yes…yes.”

  “Where’s Paradise Place?” I asked.

  “The last street south of town. It doesn’t look like much—just a shell road between two rows of cane fields.”

  “I’m on my way!” I pulled onto Main Street and smashed the accelerator, heading south.

  “No! You can’t come here.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too risky. They might see you.”

  “He’s the one, Susan. Randall Rupe dumped Hays’ body.”

  “What?” Susan asked. “Are you shitting me?”

  “No. Dexter Boudreaux saw him this past weekend—right where we found Hays’ body.”

  Susan was quiet for a long moment. “What do we do, Chief?”

  “Where are you, exactly?”

  “I’m parked in the middle of a cane field on the south side of Paradise Place about halfway down. I’m out of sight.”

  “Where’s Randall?”

  “He’s in an old plantation home at the end of the street, and he’s not alone.”

  “Who’s with him?”

  “I can’t be sure. There’re two cars parked in front of the house—Randall’s and someone else’s.”

  I sped through the heart of town, swerving around slower traffic. “Who owns the house?”

  “As far as I know, it’s abandoned.”