The Darkest Night

by Rick Reed

  Like Troup, Dusty had the opportunity to kill Bitty, Cotton, and Barbie. She had the best and oldest motive in the world, jealousy. There is an old saying, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Dusty seemed angry enough that Bitty was cheating on her with Barbie that she would have reason to kill them both. And now, Angelina said Dusty had her house and property for sale long before she and Bitty broke up. It was still listed for sale under the assumed name of Jane Smith. So she had lied about her and Bitty’s plans of getting back together and living in Dusty’s house.

  Coupled with Dusty’s other lies, it was enough to bring her in for some serious questioning, and Jack needed Sheriff Guidry for that task. He didn’t want to zero in on Dusty, but unfortunately three of the people he’d like to talk to were dead.

  He didn’t know how the Sheriff had been able to obtain a search warrant for Dusty’s house, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Guidry hadn’t told anyone about the warrant to avoid anyone calling Dusty, but Jon had typed up the Affidavit of Probable Cause to obtain the warrant, so it was probably a safe bet that Kurtis knew about it as well.

  Jack hadn’t been given a copy of the search warrant and didn’t know the particulars of what they were searching for, but he knew he would be looking for a machete and a .223 rifle.

  They had turned down the gravel road leading to Dusty’s when the Sheriff braked hard, his arm came out of the window, the hand pointing over the hood in the direction of thick black smoke roiling into the air.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Sheriff Guidry pulled off the road well back from Dusty’s house and Jack pulled in behind him. They got out of the vehicles and stood watching as flames shot into the air and sirens wailed in the distance. The three men walked down the drive to get as close as the heat would allow. A SUV was burning so intensely it scorched the vegetation that grew within fifty feet around it. Flames shot out of the house windows, and the roof was smoking, ready to go. Jack tried to move to a place where he could see the carport side of the house, but the heat was too intense. There was no activity near the house, and there wouldn’t be with such a fire. He approached Sheriff Guidry and was forced to hold up an arm to shield his face from the extreme heat.

  “Can you find out who called this in?” Jack asked him.

  Guidry seemed frozen to the spot, and Jack had to repeat himself before the Sheriff got on his portable radio and asked dispatch for the information. Dispatch said something, but Jack couldn’t hear it over the roar.

  Guidry said, “It came from a cell number. Dispatch is trying to trace the number but so far no luck.”

  “They didn’t give a name?” Jack asked.

  “I would’ve told you if they did,” Guidry said. He walked back to his SUV with Jack and Liddell in tow. Guidry watched the road. “Damn it all. What the hell is holding up the fire department?”

  Jack empathized with the Sheriff. Dusty’s house would be a total loss and anything of value inside would be gone. House fires can reach eleven to twelve hundred degrees, depending on the material and the cause of the fire. Steel melts or deforms at about eight hundred degrees. If Dusty had a gun safe that was rated for temperatures reaching seventeen hundred degrees, there would still be a chance that if the fire burned long enough and hot enough, it wouldn’t survive. So much for the .223 rifle or the machete. Even if they found one or both, the fire had erased any evidentiary value.

  A pumper and two engines passed them on the lane, braving the heat. Jack watched the firemen drop off the trucks and go to work putting on equipment and laying out hose. He was just thinking that one pumper truck wasn’t going to get the job done, as a second engine drove through the cane field, skirting the house, heading toward the lake. That they were attacking the flames from two sides would help contain it, maybe keep it from causing a wildfire.

  Jack approached the Sheriff again. “Sheriff Guidry, can you have someone check Dusty’s phone records? I take it her issued cell phone records would be accessible by one of your people without a warrant?”

  “Damn it all,” Guidry said. “I should have done that already. Give me a second.” He got on his cell phone and talked to someone, hung up, and said, “She hasn’t used it for a while. My detective said no calls have been made from it for several weeks. She’s received a bunch of calls, but most of them were from dispatch. A couple of calls were made to it from numbers that weren’t from dispatch, but they were all under a minute long. We’re trying to trace the callers now.”

  She was screening calls, answering the ones she had to, and maybe calling the others back from another phone.

  “She must have another phone,” Jack said. “One you don’t know about.”

  “Yeah.” Guidry said.

  “There’s nothing we can do here, Sheriff. I think we’ll take off,” Jack said, but if Guidry heard he didn’t respond.

  They got in the Crown Vic, and Liddell drove to the intersection and parked on the side of the road.

  “This fire was pretty convenient,” Liddell said.

  He had given the .223 shells and a couple of cigarette butts they’d found that morning to Kurtis. The shell casings were of no value now unless they found a rifle somewhere else. Like in Troup’s trunk. They weren’t going to get a search warrant for Troup’s car or home. Kurtis and Jon were going back to the woods across from Landry’s house to search for evidence Jack or Liddell had missed.

  Jack called Kurtis Dempsey’s cell phone. “Found anything?”

  Kurtis filled him in. “We’ve still got a bit to cover here, but so far we’ve found thirteen various shell casings, a folding knife, and some used condoms.”

  “And?”

  “We found two more .223 brass casings that look pretty new. Tell Liddell his brother is out here with us. He’s got good eyes.”

  Jack said, “I’ll pass that on. How soon can you run a check on the .223s? Three of the casings should match the same gun. Those will be the shots that were fired at us.”

  “I can’t send them to ballistics but Jon might be able to. He can put a rush on it if he uses the Sheriff’s name,” Kurtis said.

  Jack had forgotten that Kurtis was on super-secret probation. What he was now doing, searching for evidence, could get him fired by Chief Whiteside.

  “How long?” Jack asked again and could hear Kurtis let out a breath.

  “No quicker than tomorrow,” he said. “But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Well. Me and Jon know a guy. He used to work for the lab. He’s pretty sharp and he has some of his own equipment. He could give us a yes or no. It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, but . . .”

  “Call him, and call me back,” Jack said. “We’re just leaving Dusty’s house. No joy there. The house was on fire, and it doesn’t look like we’ll find anything useful.”

  “No shit!” Kurtis said, and Jack heard Kurtis passing this on to Jon and Jon saying “shit!”

  “Call me when you find something,” Jack said and disconnected. Jack said to Liddell, “They found two more .223 casings.”

  “They’re going to find a bunch of shell casings down there. People plink along the river all the time, but not that close to Landry’s. He’s been known to return fire sometimes. Don’t worry, he just shoots in the air.”

  Jack was angry that Officer Rahm hadn’t conducted any kind of search. Rahm was probably a good officer but low morale was like a virus.

  “The Sheriff will call us,” Liddell said. “Let’s go see where Barbie lived. Maybe his neighbors can tell us if he had a girlfriend.”

  Jack’s phone rang. It was Sergeant Walker.

  “Tony. Got anything for me?”

  “I’ve gone through the pictures you sent of Bitty’s house and the ones Officer Dempsey sent of the hanging scene. You’re right about both of them, or at least that’s my unofficial opinion. The blood patterns aren’t consistent with what you would find if someone was hacked to death. But I can’t be any more specific. Sorr
y.

  “But the hanging wasn’t a suicide. Unless this guy had arms six feet long, he couldn’t have accomplished that. I couldn’t be certain from looking at the photos, but it didn’t look like he put up any struggle. Someone that hangs themselves will sometimes change their mind or go into survival mode at the last instant and grab at the rope. There will be some scratches on the neck around the rope, skin under the fingernails, that kind of thing. I don’t know if they examined Barbie’s fingernails, but I didn’t see any evidence of him trying to get the rope loose. You might want to check toxicology on him.”

  Jack thought about that. “You think he was drugged?”

  “I’m not there. You’ll have to ask the Coroner,” Walker said.

  Jack thanked him and hung up. The phone rang in his hand. Jack answered, “Forget something, Tony?”

  The line was silent for a beat, then Kurtis Dempsey said, “It’s me. The guy I know is willing to look at the shell casings. Landry dug some of the bullets out of the house, so he can compare the shells to those. If you want him to take a look at the ballistics involving Cotton’s or Bitty’s murders, Troup has all that stuff.”

  “I don’t know if a rifle was used on Bitty or Cotton,” Jack said. “The Chief never told us what they have collected. She showed us Liddell’s backup .45 and said it was found at Cotton’s house,” Jack said.

  “Officer Barbierre was wearing a .45,” Kurtis said. “I collected it, but it hadn’t been fired. I’ll take the bullets you found at Landry’s to my guy. But I have to get to work before the Chief changes her mind.”

  “You’re not suspended?” Jack was almost surprised. He thought it had been a done deal listening to Kurtis this morning.

  “I got a call from the Chief after I talked to you. She wants me to come back to work.”

  “Good for you, Kurtis,” Jack said. “Thanks for working on this and keeping it mum.” He ended the call and was about to pocket the phone when it rang again. It was Angelina this time.

  “I’m popular this morning,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Do you have something for us?”

  “Yeah. You driving?” she asked.

  Jack told her he wasn’t.

  “I tried to get something on Anna Karenina,” she said.

  “Anna Whiteside,” Jack corrected her.

  “Whatever,” Angelina said. “The woman is a ghost. I thought I found something with New Orleans PD, but it wasn’t her. Unless the woman you have there is seventy-two years old. I found birth records for an Anna Whiteside, age five when she died. What the hell have you gotten into?”

  Jack wasn’t sure. He said, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” and that earned him a chuckle. “I’ve got another request. Can you get an address for Barbie?”

  He heard her type, listened, and repeated the address back to her.

  Liddell said, “I know where that is.”

  Jack thanked Angelina and disconnected.

  * * *

  Barbie had lived in an upscale condo community just inside the city limits. A sign above the brick and stone entry declared LAFITTE ESTATES.

  “I wouldn’t want to be the people that live near the entrance to this place,” Liddell said. “One way in and one way out, with maybe a hundred homes squeezed into a few square blocks. Traffic will be a bear getting out in the morning and coming back in the evening.”

  “Angelina said Barbie owns a charcoal-colored Dodge Challenger,” Jack said but didn’t see the Challenger on the street or in the driveway of Barbie’s condo. “Just like Troup drives.”

  A coroner’s seal was affixed to the door of Barbie’s condo and yellow crime scene tape closed off the small porch.

  “Barbie didn’t die here. So why is his domicile off limits?” Liddell remarked.

  “We shouldn’t break a coroner’s seal,” Jack said. “But we can talk to the neighbors.”

  “And then we break in, right?” Liddell asked.

  “What do you think I am, a burglar?”

  “Yep,” Liddell said.

  They knocked on doors where cars were parked in the driveways, or where other neighbors thought someone might be home. No one had ever seen Barbie bring a woman home. In fact, they didn’t think he liked women. Or at least that’s what one single mother said. She was a knockout, and she said Barbie never even checked her out. Jack had replied, “He was a very eager policeman. It wasn’t you, believe me.” She had said, “Why, thank you,” and smiled in such a way that Jack almost felt his face redden. Jack had said, “We’re married.” Liddell had chimed in, “But not to each other,” and she giggled some more.

  They learned one thing of interest, however. One of the residents had seen Barbie get into a Sheriff SUV late at night. It was about a week ago now, and they couldn’t see who was driving.

  “No one seems to know Barbie is dead,” Liddell said.

  “What the hell do they think the crime scene tape is for? Halloween?”

  “In my neighborhood everyone knows everybody and every move you make,” Liddell said.

  “In my neighborhood everyone acts standoffish now that I’m back home with Katie,” Jack remarked. “It’s like they have taken sides. And a lot of them are families I’ve known since I was a child.”

  “You’re still a child, pod’na. Have a backyard BBQ and invite the neighborhood. Hell, invite me.”

  Jack didn’t care if the neighbors liked him or not. But he didn’t like getting stared at by the old women, or tsked at by the old men. He sure as hell wasn’t going to feed them.

  They went back to their car. Jack said, “No point in going in his place. It’s already been searched, so I’m betting anything we need has already been taken. The crime scene tape is just to let us know Troup was there.”

  They got back in their car, and Jack called Guidry while Liddell drove.

  The phone was answered. “Guidry.”

  Jack asked, “Find anything, Sheriff?”

  “They don’t have the fire all put out yet. It may take a while to start going through the debris looking for a body.”

  Jack told Guidry about Kurtis being taken off suspension. He didn’t tell him about Kurtis taking shell casings to an outside expert because doing so violated rules of evidence, and he didn’t want to create problems for Kurtis in case he needed to take Guidry up on the job offer. What the Sheriff didn’t know wouldn’t come back to bite him during elections.

  Guidry said, “I put out an APB on Dusty. Just in case she’s not a crispy critter. What if she’s not involved like we think and the killer has struck again?”

  What if she’s not? “I understand, Sheriff. We’ll keep digging. It’s all we can do right now. We just went by Barbie’s place, and it’s roped off with crime scene tape. His car is gone too.”

  “I’ll get my guys to put a bulletin out on his car. I don’t suppose you have the plate number? Of course you don’t. I’ll get it and let you know. Why are we looking for Barbie’s car anyway?”

  “Dusty made a connection between him and Bitty. His fingerprints are . . .” Jack said before Guidry interrupted.

  “Got it. I’ll let you know.”

  The line went dead, and Jack said, “The sheriff is having second thoughts about Dusty being the doer.”

  “Are you?”

  “Until they identify her body, I’m going to keep plugging. She changes her name when it suits her. Who knows what happened out there? She might have set the fire to cover her tracks. Maybe we’re looking for Jane Smith now.”

  Jack’s phone rang. It was Kurtis.

  “Detective Murphy, I think I may have something.”

  * * *

  Kurtis was back in uniform and waiting for them in a squad car outside A Slice of Heaven. Liddell pulled up alongside Kurtis, and Jack rolled his window down. Kurtis didn’t look nervous. He was excited.

  “I think I’m in good with the Chief again,” he said and smiled.

  “Tell us what you have for us,�
�� Jack said.

  “Follow me,” Kurtis said and put the car in gear.

  Liddell had driven Code 3 when he heard where they were to meet, and he acted disappointed that they weren’t going to meet inside.

  “Why don’t you just tell us here?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll let the Chief explain,” Kurtis said. “She said to ask you to come to her office. And I’m supposed to say please. So please?”

  “Why didn’t she just call us? Why meet here?” Jack asked. He was a little wary of this complete change of attitude.

  “That was my idea,” Kurtis said. “I thought you guys wouldn’t come to the police station direct because of what’s already flowed under the bridge.”

  Jack deciphered Kurtis’s meaning and agreed to follow him to meet the Chief.

  “You’re gonna love this,” Kurtis said.

  Jack tried to stay on Kurtis’s tail as the police car ran, lights and siren, through several red lights and stop signs before stopping in front of the police station. They parked, and Kurtis led the way through the station. Without knocking, he opened the Chief’s door and showed them inside.

  Chief Whiteside stood in front of her desk. She was resplendent in her full uniform, badge, ribbons, and stars on her collar, polished gun belt, and spit-shined shoes. A female George Patton.

  She smiled and said to the men, “Come in. Have a seat.”

  To Kurtis she said, “Have someone bring coffee.”

  Jack said, “None for me. I’m trying to quit.”

  Her smile faltered. “Shut the door, Kurtis. No, wait. Tell whoever’s out there to keep everyone away from my door. I want you back here.”

  Kurtis went out and came right back and shut the door behind himself. “The outer office is empty, Chief,” he said and walked to the window behind the desk.

  Jack thought Kurtis was still nervous and wanted to tell him the worst was over and to relax. But maybe it wasn’t over. Whiteside sat on the edge of her desk facing them.