by BJ Bourg
“If you’d like,” I said wryly, “you can come back with a search warrant and see if you can find them. I bet Sheriff Turner would be very grateful.”
Melvin’s eyes widened and he shook his head so violently the boat dipped to the left and we both lost our balances a little. He quickly got us back on course and said, “I’m never going back there again. If you or anyone tries to make me, I’m quitting and going work as a door greeter—”
My phone suddenly exploded with beeps and dings. I jerked it out of my pocket and grunted. It became apparent that we had been out of cell service for most of the morning, because I had over twenty missed calls and at least as many text messages. When I pressed the icon for my message folder, I quickly searched for the most recent. It was from Susan.
“Can this boat go any faster?” I asked.
“Maybe—why?”
“They got them, so we need to get to the police department as soon as possible.”
“Got who?”
“Hulk and Blondie,” I said. “They came back to the fair and Susan took Hulk—whose name it Alastair Albert—into custody for an outstanding warrant for domestic abuse battery.”
“So, she caught the murderer?” Melvin’s wide face grew even wider as he smiled. “You’re getting married after all!”
I ignored him and called Susan, who answered on the first ring. “Where the hell are you? I thought y’all were dead.”
“Almost,” I said.
“Almost what? Did something happen?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. What’s going on with this Alastair fellow?”
She filled me in on what had happened while we were gone. “I booked him on the warrant and resisting arrest and I’m holding him in a jail cell until you get here so you can question him.”
I thanked her and said we’d be about thirty minutes longer. “What’s it look like? Do you think he could’ve done it?”
“Hard to tell, but his wife did make the comment that he would’ve killed Chester had he gotten his hands on him.”
“Did you find a weapon in his vehicle or on his person?”
“There was nothing on his person and I didn’t search the vehicle yet, except to do an inventory before having it towed here. If there had been a rifle inside, I would’ve seen it, but I can’t say there were casings inside the car. I ran the registration and it comes back to him and his wife, so I asked her for permission to search it.”
“What’d she say?” I ducked low as Melvin guided the boat into the small canal that connected Forbidden Bayou with Bayou Tail. We were almost home free. “Did she give consent?”
“No,” Susan said. “She’s worried that Alastair will leave her if she gives permission to search his vehicle.”
“What? He should be worried about her leaving him for beating her ass.” I shook my head. “Okay, well, we’ll be back soon.”
Susan paused for a moment without saying anything, and I could hear her breathing on the other end of the phone.
“Hey, honey, are you okay?”
“Yeah…thanks for bringing my husband back to me.”
“Well, I’m not there yet,” I joked. “You know, a lot can happen between here and—”
Click!
CHAPTER 17
Mechant Loup Police Department
I could see Susan was working hard to resist the urge to run up and hug me when Melvin and I sauntered through the front door of the police department and into the dispatcher’s station. We looked a mess and, although my nose was oblivious to it, I could tell by the scrunching of Susan’s nose that we smelled like rotten marsh mud.
“I’m happy to see you, too,” I said. “Now, where’s this Alastair fellow? I’ve got some stench to lay on him.”
“I’d confess to anything just to have you walk out of here,” said Beth Gandy, “so you’ll have no problem breaking him.”
I thanked Melvin for his help and, since it was his day off anyway, Susan told him to turn in. “We’ve had a busy weekend, so go get some rest.”
Susan started walking toward the interview room, but Melvin hesitated.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Before I head home, should I write a report on what happened? I mean, they pointed guns at us. We’re cops, and they knew it.”
“What?” Susan abruptly stopped walking and spun to face us. “Who pointed guns at y’all?”
I groaned and Melvin mouthed an apology. I shook my head to let him know it was okay. “I’ll take care of the paperwork.”
Melvin nodded and quickly disappeared down the hall. I slowly turned to Susan and gave her a brief rundown of what had happened. “I really don’t think they meant us harm. They were just afraid and defending their territory.”
“They came up out of the water wearing alligator heads and pointing shotguns at y’all, and you don’t think they meant any harm?” Her tone was incredulous and I knew there would be no arguing with her. “We need to go back there and arrest all of them!”
I’d left out the part about the see-through shirt, so I went ahead and told her that part, too. “She was educated,” I explained, “but she seemed completely comfortable being exposed. Maybe we should pile on indecent exposure while we’re out there making arrests.”
She just shook her head. “Who are those people?”
I shrugged. “I never knew they existed.”
“I knew there were families who lived in the swamps and who only came to town occasionally for supplies and to sell their catch, but I didn’t know anything about them.” After a while, she shook her head to clear it. “Well, I’ve got Courtney in Room Two and Alastair in Room One.”
“Let’s talk to Courtney first.”
After we entered the room and Susan introduced me, I began interviewing her about the incident that happened yesterday at the fair. I noticed her subtly rub her nose and lean back a bit in her chair, as though trying to create as much distance as she could between us.
“When I told Al what that old man did, he went berserk,” she said, breathing through her mouth. “He threatened to kill the man and he demanded that I tell him where to find him. I was mad and felt violated, so I took him to the ride where it happened. When we got there, a heavyset man was working the ride. Al asked him where the other fellow was, but he said he didn’t know. I thought I saw him walking through the crowd, so I pointed him out.”
“Was it him?” I asked when she stopped talking.
“I don’t know. We never did get close enough to see for sure, and then he just disappeared.”
“Where was he when you last saw him?”
Courtney pulled a lock of blonde hair to her mouth and began chewing on it. “Um…I believe it was near the porta potties that we lost him. But then I thought I saw him on the dance floor.”
“What did y’all do at that point?”
She shrugged. “We just kept looking around and when we couldn’t find him we left. My daughter was going to sleep at Al’s mom’s house, so we took her there.”
“Did y’all make prior plans for her to sleep at the grandmother’s house, or was it spontaneous?”
“No, we made plans last week. We knew we’d want to come back to the fair for some dancing today, so we lined her up as a babysitter.”
After asking a few more questions to establish an exact timeline, I asked if Alastair owned a gun.
“I mean, yeah, but I don’t know what kind.”
“Is it a handgun or long gun?”
There was a blank expression on her face.
I pointed to the pistol in my holster. “Is it a small gun like that, or is it a long gun like a shotgun or rifle?”
“It’s long and skinny.” She pointed to my pistol and shook her head. “Not that small. It’s the kind you put on your shoulder and shoot. He let me shoot it when we were dating years ago, but I haven’t seen it in quite a while.”
“When you shot it, did it hurt your shoulder?” I asked.
“No.”
“Was it very loud?”
Courtney cocked her head to the side, trying to remember. “My ears did ring a little, but I remember it not being as loud as I thought it would be.”
I drummed my index finger on the desk. Long, skinny, not very noisy…it sounded like it could be a .22 caliber rifle.
“When’s the last time you saw this gun?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s been years.”
“Did he keep it in his car?”
“No, definitely not. I would’ve seen it.”
“How can you be sure? What if he kept it locked in the trunk?”
“I loaded my daughter’s clothes in the trunk before bringing her to my mother-in-law’s house. There was no gun in the trunk.”
“I’m talking about yesterday, before y’all came to the fair the first time. Did you go into the trunk then?”
She nodded. “I put the stroller and my day bag in the trunk.”
“Is it possible the gun is hidden somewhere in the trunk?”
“I mean, if it is, I don’t know where it could be.”
I was thoughtful. “Did Alastair ever leave your side? Even for a moment?”
“Yeah, he went to get some food while my daughter and I rode the big swing ride.”
“What about after that?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head for emphasis. “After that creep groped me, Al wouldn’t leave my side. He apologized repeatedly for leaving me alone for just a moment, and he swore he’d never do it again.”
I didn’t like the way the interview was going. It was starting to look like this might not be our guy—unless she was involved and she was lying to cover for both of them.
CHAPTER 18
Alastair looked up from his chair when I stepped into Interview Room One. He didn’t look happy to see me. Susan had slipped into the observatory, because she figured he wouldn’t like talking to the person who had taken him down.
“I hear you’re quite the dancer,” I lied. “Did you like the lineup of bands this year?”
Taken by surprise, Alastair just nodded blankly.
“I think they’re going to get more rock bands next year. Try to add a little variety, you know?”
He grunted. “Yeah, that would be nice. I know some great cover bands from the city. My buddy plays in one. They’d set this little town on fire.”
“Maybe when we’re done here I can get you in touch with the mayor. She might be interested in hiring your buddy’s band.”
The sour expression was slowly fading from Alastair’s face. “I can show you some of his videos on YouTube, if you want.”
I sat patiently while Alastair pulled up video after video of his friend’s band playing in different clubs throughout the city. We must’ve talked for about fifteen minutes before I finally turned the conversation to the reason we were there. By then, I’d established such a rapport with him that he was acting like we were best friends.
“So, Clint, why am I even here? I just came out to the fair to dance and eat some good food.”
“I need to talk to you about the man who groped your wife.”
Alastair’s face turned to crimson. “Had I been there when it happened, I would’ve killed him.”
I nodded slowly. “How?”
“How what?”
“How would you have killed him?”
A blank expression spread across his face. “I…I mean, I don’t know. I wouldn’t have killed him, really, but I would’ve beaten his ass pretty bad, that’s for sure.”
I questioned him about his every move from the moment the incident happened until he left the fairgrounds, and his story was consistent with Courtney’s.
“Are you sure you and Courtney never parted ways after she told you about the groping incident?”
“I’m positive.”
I winced audibly, to give the impression that he’d said something wrong. He noticed, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m going to ask you again, and this time I want you to think real hard.” I paused to let him think about it. “Is it possible you walked away from Courtney after the groping incident—even if just for a minute or two?”
He shook his head. “I never left her side after the creep touched her. I felt horrible about leaving her alone.”
“Did you feel horrible about beating her ass?”
The question took him by surprise and he jerked back in his seat. His eyes narrowed, and I could see that he had a short fuse and a quick temper. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” I slid the warrant across the table. “This is a contempt of court warrant for your failure to appear to answer charges relating to you beating up Courtney. Do you feel bad about beating her up?”
“No, I—”
“Oh, you don’t feel bad about beating her?”
“No, I mean I didn’t beat her, so there’s nothing to feel bad about.”
I rested my forearms on the table, leaning closer to him. “If you’re lying about beating your wife, I have to expect you’re lying about killing Chester Raymond.”
“Chester Raymond…”
“You know who I’m talking about. He’s the man who groped your wife.”
The spray-on tan covering Alastair’s face slowly faded to a pale pink. “Yeah, I know. The sloppy guy over at the fair told me his name when I confronted him. Did you…did I hear you right? The man who groped Courtney is dead?”
“Yep, dead as last year’s sugarcane crop.” I nodded in his direction. “And you’re suspect numero uno.”
“Me?” His voice turned shrill. “I’ve never touched that man. I don’t even know what he looks like.”
“Do you own a rifle or a shotgun?”
“No.”
“Are you sure about that?” Now I’m on to something, I thought. If I could catch him lying about something I could prove, that would mean he was still in play as a suspect. It wouldn’t mean he killed the man, but it would keep the possibility open.
“I’m positive.”
“Have you ever been in possession of a shotgun or rifle?”
“Nope. Never.”
He was so sure of himself, I believed him. I pondered the information we’d learned from Courtney. Was she lying? Or…wait a minute!
“What about a pellet gun?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve got a pellet gun, but I didn’t think that’s what you meant.”
“Is it long?” I asked.
He nodded. “An old wooden Benjamin.”
“Has Courtney ever shot it?”
“I think so, back when we first started dating, but that was years ago.”
“Do you mind if we search your car?”
“For what?”
“Any evidence that you killed Chester Raymond.”
“Sure, search away. I already told you, I didn’t even touch him.”
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, this was a dead end. If so, it meant the killer was still out there and I had to find him or her before they struck again.
I told Alastair I’d be back, and then I stepped out to go meet with Susan in the observatory.
“What do you think?” I asked, studying her face in the dark room. There was only a tiny splash of light bleeding through the two-way mirror, so it was hard to make out her expression.
“I don’t doubt he’s a wife beater,” she said slowly, “but I don’t think he’s a killer—at least, I don’t think he killed Chester Raymond.”
“Yeah.” I turned and stared through the glass at the large man sitting there with his head in his hands. “I don’t think we’re getting married Sunday.”
“Don’t say that!” Susan’s voice was so loud that Alastair’s head popped up and he turned to look at the mirror. We watched as he stood to his feet and moved curiously toward us. With cupped hands, he pressed his face against the glass and tried to see through it. I knew he couldn’t, because I’d already tested it a dozen times when we first moved into the building. He finally shrugged and leaned back,
but he stopped when he noticed something in the mirror. He tilted his head up and shoved his index finger into his left nostril.
“Oh, God, I’m going to vomit.” Susan pushed by me and hurried through the door. Once she was in the hall, she headed for the dispatcher’s office, talking over her shoulder as she walked. “I’m going to wrap up the report and call the jail for a transport van.”
“And I’m heading back to the fair.” My eyes drifted to her bottom, which was tucked snuggly into her uniform pants, and I groaned.
“What was that for?” she wanted to know, whirling around.
“Nothing, but if this case isn’t solved soon, I’m dragging you to the justice of the peace and we’re tying the knot that way.”
“No, we’re not,” she called after me. “We’re getting the cruise wedding we paid for or none at all!”
I had reached the door when I remembered the autopsy. I cursed and turned to call for Susan, but she was already standing there watching me leave. My face felt flushed. “Were you watching me walk away?”
It was her turn to blush. “Maybe.”
I hesitated, wanting to say so much more, but realized we were in the office. “Can you catch the autopsy for me? I want to interview as many of Chester’s fellow workers as I can before they break camp and move to the next town. Once they leave, we might never find them again.”
“Just be careful.” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t let anyone point a gun at you again.”
CHAPTER 19
When I arrived at the fairgrounds the party was still going strong. I parked near the road and headed for the portable toilets, studying the crowd as I walked. Someone brushed up against me and mumbled an apology. I turned to see a man in ragged clothes hurrying off. What if he’s the killer?
I saw a woman standing near a tent puffing on one of those electronic cigarettes. Could she be the killer? I scowled. At this point, absent a real motive, anyone could be the killer. I made my rounds and spoke to every fair worker I could find, trying to extract every bit of information about Chester I could from them. Some of them knew him a little, some knew him well, and some had never heard of him, but no one was able to tell me who might want him dead.