Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one in the trailer had heard us, and then she rushed toward where I waited. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I countered. “It’s my job to be here, but you’ve got no reason at all.”

  I could see her frown against the glow from above. “This is the trailer my father was staying in while he worked here,” she explained.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Dickie would always come with him on Thursday afternoon to get settled and help set up the rides. Father would bring him back home Friday afternoon, then return to finish out the weekend.” She let out an audible sigh. “I wanted to collect my father’s things and bring them back with me.”

  I didn’t believe her for a second. I reached out in the dark and touched the barrel of her shotgun. “And what’s this for?”

  “Protection.”

  I glanced toward Joel’s trailer, but all was still quiet inside. I turned back to Patricia. “Were you planning on breaking in to get your dad’s stuff? That would be a felony.”

  “Of course not,” she huffed. “What do you take me for—some kind of idiot? I was going to make sure things were safe and then I was going to knock on the door like any civilized person would. Now, if they refused to return his property, well, that’s a different matter.”

  An evil thought crept into my mind, but I pushed it away.

  I reluctantly told her Susan had caught Alastair Albert but we were wrong about him being the killer. “Turns out, he didn’t murder your dad.”

  She didn’t seem as surprised as I would’ve expected.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Positive.” That evil thought started slowly creeping back into my mind, but I tried to ignore it. “He was angry at your dad and he was looking for him, but he never found him.”

  “If he didn’t do it, then who did?”

  “We’re running down some other leads, but we don’t have a lot to go on at the moment. It could be anyone.”

  “I see.” Her voice was low and sad. “To be honest, I didn’t expect a lot from you, or anyone here in town. I know his murder is not a priority—”

  “Just a minute, Patricia,” I interrupted. “I take every murder case seriously and I won’t stop until his killer’s arrested and behind bars—that I promise you.”

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” She didn’t seem convinced, but I could see her shadow of a face looking around. “Why were you out here slinking around in the dark? Were you going to break into the trailer, too?” She sucked in a mouthful of air when she realized what she’d said.

  I laughed quietly, shook my head. “No, I was just waiting for someone to come outside, so I could follow him.” I nodded in the direction of Joel’s trailer. “Are you sure your dad was staying in that trailer?”

  “That’s what Dickie told me.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and knock on the door and ask for your dad’s stuff? I’ll wait back here and keep watching in case he leaves.”

  Patricia hesitated and I knew she knew I was on to her. She was heading for Joel’s trailer because she thought he was the killer and she was planning on exacting a little revenge. But how in the hell had she found out about him? Only a few of us knew he was a suspect, but none of us had contact with Patricia or the rest of her clan.

  “It’s getting late,” she finally said. “I think I’ll come back for it later.”

  The evil thought reared its ugly head again. If I were to hint to Patricia that Joel refused to cooperate with the investigation, she might take it upon herself to go undercover and sweet talk a confession out of him, but I’d seen the deadly look in her troubled eyes when I’d told her about her dad’s murder. She wouldn’t try to trick Joel into admitting to something—she would probably try to beat the truth out of him. There were two problems with that tactic—first, it was illegal. Second, beating someone could elicit a false confession, and a false confession could destroy a case.

  I shook my head to clear it and was about to ask Patricia about her real reason for being here when she turned quickly and hurried off, disappearing into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 22

  It had been a long night, and I was glad when Monday morning rolled around. Not only had I been watching for any movement out of Joel, but I also had to watch out for Patricia. If she returned and attacked Joel while I watched his trailer, it would be more than a little embarrassing for me.

  I unfolded myself from the ground where I’d taken up a position. The entire right side of my body had fallen asleep, so I pushed myself up with my left arm. I slowly made my way toward the parking lot, the needles stabbing at my right foot with each step I took. I could hear movement from some of the trailers and I caught a whiff of coffee from somewhere. While I wasn’t a coffee addict, breakfast sure sounded good at the moment. The thought of food caused my stomach to growl. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, but I decided I would stop somewhere and buy a breakfast plate before heading home to get a couple of hours of sleep.

  I stopped walking and turned slowly toward Joel’s trailer, a thought disturbing me. I’d set up on the front door of Joel’s trailer. What if Patricia had broken through the back door of the trailer and killed him while he slept? His was the only trailer that didn’t have a door or window open and light and activity on the inside. “Damn it!” I said out loud. “She might’ve played me for a fool—”

  “Detective, what are you still doing here?”

  My hand dropped instinctively to my pistol at the sudden and unexpected sound of Bart’s voice.

  “Just doing my job.” I relaxed, waiting for him to lumber down the metal steps of the trailer he was living in. “What about you? Why are you up so early?”

  “They want us to get packed up and hit the road right away. They don’t even want us making breakfast before we go.” He yawned and scratched at the lower part of his exposed belly. “We don’t usually start packing up until about six. We’ve never been up at four before. I wonder what gives. They said we’ll be eating breakfast on the road today. Apparently, they want to drive straight through to the top of the boot that is the wonderful state of Louisiana.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “Well, Joel, really. For some reason, he’s in a hurry to leave this place. He said last night he wants to hit the road and not stop until we reach our next destination.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “A town called South Junction.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “You’re the second person to tell me they’ve never heard of South Junction. It’s east of Alexandria and—”

  “Who’s the other person?”

  “What other person?”

  “Who’s the other person who never heard of South Junction?”

  “Oh, Chester’s daughter.” His mouth parted slightly as he stared up into space “What did she say her name was? Patty, maybe? I believe that’s what she called herself.”

  “Patricia?” I took a brisk step toward Bart. “When did you talk to her?”

  “It was late last night. Hell, it was only a few hours ago, come to think of it. Right after I talked to you.”

  “Where’d you meet up with her?”

  “We didn’t meet up. We kind of just bumped into each other. She appeared out of nowhere and approached me while I was getting some ice for my cooler.”

  I glanced in the direction of Joel’s trailer again. It was still cloaked in darkness. “What did she want?”

  “She asked some of the same questions you asked. You know, like, did Chester have any enemies? Did anyone get mad at him recently or had a fight with him? Basically, she’s trying to figure out who killed her dad.”

  I groaned inwardly. “Did you tell her about Joel?”

  “Sure. Why not? The girl deserves to know what happened to her dad.”

  Another thought occurred to me. “What about th
e big guy from the Battle Swing ride—did you tell her he didn’t kill Chester?”

  “Yeah, I did. Why? Was I not supposed to?”

  It now made sense why Patricia was stalking Joel, but it was hard to get mad at Bart. “I mean, I shared that information in confidence. Remember when I said it was between me and you?”

  “I didn’t think you meant it.”

  You didn’t think I meant it? I forced a smile. Then why in the hell would I say it?

  I pointed toward Joel’s trailer. “If y’all are leaving first thing this morning, why is his trailer still dark?”

  Bart grunted. “When Joel tells us we have to get up early and pack, he doesn’t include himself. No, sir, he’ll be sleeping until it’s time to drive away.”

  “He doesn’t help out?”

  “God, no. He makes his rounds collecting money from all the booths and stands during the fair, and that’s it. He doesn’t do a damn thing otherwise.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to know if he was still alive, but I knew Bart wouldn’t go knock on his door. I knew Joel wouldn’t be happy to see me, especially after our last conversation. He would think I was using some ploy to get inside his trailer—that is, if he was still alive.

  “Well, I’ve got to get to work,” Bart said. “I hope to see y’all again next year.”

  When Bart had walked off, I decided to go bang on Joel’s trailer. If he was alive, he might appreciate knowing that someone was gunning for him. If he did murder Chester and then Patricia killed him, most people would think he got what was coming to him, but I couldn’t let that happen.

  My shoes were damp from the dew and they left wet shoe impressions on the steps to Joel’s trailer. After I knocked hard, I dropped from the steps and stood to the right side of the door. I could hear movement inside the thin walls and even some cursing. A minute later, the door opened and Joel was standing there wrapped in a terrycloth robe. As I figured, he wasn’t happy to see me, but I was relieved he was still among the living.

  “What the hell do you want?” he demanded. “Didn’t you harass me enough yesterday?”

  “I’m not here to harass you.” I took a breath and watched him relax. “It’s my duty to let you know that someone might be looking to harm you.”

  Joel pulled the robe tight at the chest, as though it would offer some form of security. “Harm me? But who? And why?”

  “It seems Chester’s daughter has been asking questions and looking for you.”

  “Chester’s daughter?” He glanced to the left and right behind me. “What does she want?”

  “Well, when she came looking for you she was carrying a twelve gauge shotgun, so I doubt she wants to talk.”

  “How do you know she came looking for me? Did someone call you?”

  How to put this? “Well, you see, I was hanging around the crime scene looking for clues when I saw her approaching your trailer. I stopped her and she said she was going to collect her dad’s property. She claimed he lived in your trailer when he worked here. She says her brother described the trailer to her.”

  Joel fidgeted on the steps. “Maybe her brother just described the wrong trailer. I mean, Chester does have some stuff in one of the trailers”—he pointed to his right—“but it’s off in that direction. So, it’s possible she was coming to retrieve his belongings.”

  “Armed with a double-barrel shotgun?” I grunted. “Not likely. Well, I fulfilled my duty by passing the information on to you. Whether you believe it or not is your problem.” I turned to walk away. “Best of luck to you.”

  “Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to protect me?”

  I stood studying him, then slowly nodded. “I will. Why don’t I come inside while you get ready, and then I can escort you around the fairgrounds until it’s time for you and your crew to leave. I’ll even follow y’all down the road a ways.”

  “That sounds great.” Joel held the door to the trailer open until I entered, and then he hurried to a back room. “I’ll be right out.”

  I heard him telling his wife what was going on, but I was only partially listening. Since I had been invited in, I helped myself to everything in plain view, searching for any weapon that could shoot a .22 caliber bullet. I glanced toward the driver’s seat and sucked in air when I saw a pistol sticking up out of the armrest compartment. It was a small black revolver and it could’ve easily been a .22 handgun.

  CHAPTER 23

  “I’m on my way to the crime lab in La Mort,” I said to Susan, raising my voice over the sound of the wind blowing in through my driver’s window. “I picked up the projectiles from the autopsy and I’ve got a twenty-two caliber revolver to compare them against.”

  “Wait…what? You never came home last night?” She sounded half asleep and I could hear her moving around in the bed. I knew she had gone to sleep late last night because I’d texted her a little after midnight to say I’d be late, and she was still up getting things ready for the wedding and cruise. Suddenly, I felt bad for calling this early. “Where’d you get a murder weapon? What happened?”

  I told her about the surveillance and how Joel had invited me in his trailer. “The gun was in plain sight, so I recovered it.”

  “I bet he was mad.”

  “Mad?” I laughed. “He was furious…accused me of making up the threat on his life just so I could get inside his trailer. He then accused me of disarming him so Patricia could carry out her threat.”

  Susan was still groggy, but she caught the contradiction. “How could she carry out a threat that wasn’t real?”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “How are you feeling? You’ve been up for twenty-four hours. You’ve got to be tired.”

  If I was being honest, I would tell her how tired I was and that I didn’t know if I could make the drive to La Mort without falling asleep at the wheel. Since I didn’t lie to her, I changed the subject and told her about my conversation with Crystal.

  “What if we aren’t done with this case?” I asked. “Should I just take the time off anyway like Crystal said? I can’t see myself walking out in the middle of a murder case and leaving it sit there for a week, but I also can’t see myself letting you down.”

  Susan was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was so soft I could barely hear her. “No, I can’t see you walking out on a murder case either, and neither could I. There’s no way I could enjoy myself on a cruise knowing we have unfinished business back home. Maybe we could take a break from the case to get married and then skip the cruise if it came to that.”

  “Is it too late to get our money back?”

  “Oh, yeah. If we don’t go, we’ll lose over five grand.”

  Disgusted, I sank into my seat, staring at the road ahead of me. There wasn’t much traffic, which made the drive easy, but I was in no hurry. The lab wouldn’t open for at least two hours. If I got there too early, I’d just have to wait in the parking lot.

  “You still there?” Susan asked.

  “I’m inwardly vomiting over the possibility of losing that much money.” I glanced at the evidence box beside me. “Let’s just hope this is our murder weapon.”

  I disconnected the call and drove straight into the rising sun, trying my best to keep my eyes open. I knew if I let them close or if I blinked too long it would be over. Susan would really be pissed at me if I wrecked.

  When I was halfway to La Mort, I stopped at a gas station and bought a cup of coffee—black, no sugar, no cream. I rarely drank the stuff, but I needed something to kick me in the ass and keep me awake. The first sip scalded my tongue and jolted me alert, but the effect didn’t last long. My eyelids were dragging ten minutes later and I was barely awake by the time I pulled into the crime lab parking lot.

  I checked the time on my dash. I was an hour early. Damn!

  With nothing else to do, I pushed my seat back and closed my eyes. It felt so good to finally let my eyelids slide shut.

  CHAPTER 24

  Mechant Loup Police
Department

  Officer Amy Cooke was just stepping out of the bathroom when Lindsey hollered her name from the dispatcher’s station. Amy had been working for the Mechant Loup police department for just under two years and she loved her job. She had originally worked for the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office, but she had been assigned to the detention center and she was itching to work the road. After a chance meeting with then-Police Chief Clint Wolf at Cig’s Gas Station early one morning, she expressed an interest in working patrol and he hired her over a cup of coffee. Two weeks later she was roaming the streets of Mechant Loup and having the time of her life.

  Amy made the corner and approached Lindsey. “I’m here.”

  Lindsey set aside the book she’d been reading and grabbed a sticky note, handing it over. “I know it’s almost time for you to knock off, but some guy called from the boat launch to say he just got back from his camp and he discovered that his truck had been stolen.”

  “Terry Smith. What an original name.” After examining the note, Amy hitched up her gun belt and turned for the door. “See you in a bit.”

  She trudged to her marked cruiser and stepped inside, frowning as she pulled the door closed. She’d heard about the murder at the fair and was upset that she was off. She loved how quaint and quiet her town was, but if there was action, she wanted to be a part of it. She was keenly aware that every case was important to the person who was victimized, regardless of how small the crime, but she had to admit she’d rather be working the murder than some theft case.

  The boat launch was only a couple of blocks from the police department, so her response time was as near instant as it could be. Mr. Smith wasn’t impressed.

  “It’s about damn time!” he said, hitching up his loose jeans. The man was at least mid-fifties and he had a little tuft of hair left at the top of his crown. His shirt was stained and his hands were rough and cracked. “I’ve been waiting here forever.”