by BJ Bourg
CHAPTER 37
After a quick records search at the Magnolia Parish Clerk of Court’s Office in Chateau, the lawyer for our department learned that the lumberyard and surrounding property had been seized by a local bank over twenty years ago. He’d made a call to their attorney and we were granted permission to search for any evidence relating to the old man’s murder.
Dawn and I grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading back to Lower Seasville. Emergency vehicles were everywhere as we drove down Highway Eighty. From fire trucks to patrol cars to ambulances, everyone was doing their part to help with the recovery effort.
The tornado, which was the worst in Magnolia Parish history, had traveled north for nearly fifteen miles, destroying parts of six subdivisions and annihilating an entire trailer park in the process. As of the sheriff’s last update, eleven people had been killed, including Cade and Stella, and two dozen more were missing.
As with most natural disasters in our parish, deputies were called out to work extra duty until the situation could be contained. With the exception of Dawn and me, who were working the only active murder in the parish, all detectives had been deployed to the affected neighborhoods to search for survivors. We both wanted to join them in the life-saving effort, but our job demanded we stay the course and follow-up on every lead we could find. For every minute that went by, the case grew increasingly colder and our chances of solving it grew ever slimmer.
When we finally turned down Ender’s Lane it was getting close to twelve o’clock. For some reason, most of the neighborhood had been spared the wrath of the tornado, but every resident had heard it rumble by as it had barreled northbound, destroying everything in its path.
Dawn grunted when we reached the end of the paved street and took to the bumpy dirt road. “Our last trip down here didn’t go so well.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it can get much worse.”
“I can think of something that would’ve made it worse.”
I figured she was referring to me drowning with Cade or dying under that tree, but I didn’t comment on it. Instead, I began making small talk until we arrived at the overgrown parking lot of the lumberyard. I parked in front of what looked like the main entrance and we dismounted. The tornado had missed the old lumberyard building by a hundred yards, or so, but large tree branches and other debris were strewn about the gravel parking lot. Dawn pointed to a motorcycle helmet laying in a clump of weeds. “Do you think there’s a head in it?”
I started to laugh, but stopped. “I guess it’s possible…”
Dawn strode across the parking lot and snatched it from the ground. After inspecting it, she turned it so I could see. “Nah, it’s empty.”
I turned away and grabbed a crowbar from the back of my truck, then headed for the front door. There were large planks nailed across the door to keep people out. So far, it had seemed to serve its purpose. As I began prying the boards loose, Dawn unloaded her crime scene bag and the metal detector she’d brought along, dropping them near the entrance. She then helped me pull the boards away and place them on the ground nearby.
The bank’s lawyer had been unable to locate a key to the door, so he authorized us to break in as long as we secured the building when we were done. Trying not to inflict too much damage, I slowly pried on the double doors until it popped open. The noise reverberated loudly inside the abandoned building.
Sunlight streamed over my shoulder and lit up the area immediately inside the entrance. Still holding the crowbar, I stepped inside and looked around. There was a dank feel to the air and it smelled of mold. “I doubt this place has seen the light of day in thirty years.” My words echoed across the giant warehouse.
Dawn followed me inside and shined her light around. The beam seemed small in the expansive darkness. “We might find a new species of monster lurking in this place.”
I pulled a flashlight from my back pocket. The building was mostly empty, with the exception of a few dozen piles of lumber situated in various bins throughout the warehouse area. I walked closer to some of the bins and examined the boards, which were still secured in large bundles by metal straps.
“These boards look brand new,” I said, strolling deeper into the warehouse and examining the next set of bins. When I reached the back end of the building, I found a bundle that had been busted open. It contained treated posts that were twelve feet long and six inches by six inches thick. Comparing the open bundle to other like bundles, it appeared seven posts were missing. I stabbed my light around the warehouse, searching for the missing posts. I turned to Dawn. “Do you see any of these missing posts scattered around?”
“No.” She walked off into the darkness and I went in the opposite direction. After about ten minutes of futile searching, I heard Dawn’s faint voice calling from somewhere along the back wall of the warehouse.
“Back here,” she hollered. “I found them.”
I could barely make out her light in the distance, but it grew brighter as I got closer. The entire area of the building where she stood was brighter because of a slim crack under the large rolling door that allowed sunlight to filter in. When I reached Dawn, she pointed to the ground near the door. There, in a neat stack, were the seven posts that were missing from the bundle I’d found. Beside it was a stack of treated two-by-fours—about twenty of them—just waiting to be removed from the warehouse.
In the dim glow from the surrounding light, I saw Dawn chewing on her lower lip.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“It looks like someone was stacking boards to take out of here.”
I voiced my agreement, and waved my hand around the area. “Well then, let’s start searching here and expand outward.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
After grabbing some bolt cutters from my truck, I snapped the shackles on the padlocks that secured the slide bars on the door. I then began working the chain hoist. The chain rattled and the door squeaked as it lifted with each tug I made. When the door was completely open, I secured the chain to a wall anchor and turned toward the warehouse. It was cloaked in bright light and I was able to make out things that weren’t visible earlier, such as a faded wooden baseball bat resting against a nearby bin.
Dawn saw the bat, too, and reached it before I did. She pulled on some gloves and took a picture of it before lifting it to examine it. She pointed toward the thin portion near the lower end of the handle. “It’s cracked.”
She was right. There was a linear crack in the bat and she was able to bend it about thirty degrees. When she did so, the crack opened up and I whistled when I saw the exposed inner portion of the wood.
“There are black blotches on the fresh wood,” I said. “It could be blood.”
She held the bat close to her face. Squinting to get a better view, she bent it again and examined every inch of the inside portion of the crack. “No kidding!”
She returned the bat to where she had located it and hurried across the warehouse, disappearing into the far shadows. When she returned, she was carrying her crime scene bag. She dug through it and pulled out her field blood test kit. While she tested the suspected blood, I began examining the surrounding area and planned out what would be a long and painstaking search.
Within five minutes Dawn let out a triumphant yell. “It’s blood and it’s human! This is our crime scene.”
CHAPTER 38
Monday, October 8
It was nearing noon when Dawn and I reached the last square in our grid search of the old lumberyard. It was void of any obvious evidence and Dawn’s metal detector didn’t alert on anything.
I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and sat on a nearby crate, surveying our handy work. We had begun on Friday afternoon by using stout string to divide the entire area into grids and then we set up a generator and a bank of lights to assist us with our search. Afterward, it was nearly nonstop searching, with the only breaks coming for quick meals and a few hours each night to sleep.
The r
escue effort in the aftermath of the deadly tornado was still ongoing and the sheriff had no free hands to spare, so we had been on our own. It had taken us three long days to cover the expansive area, but we were finally done.
While we hadn’t located any smoking guns—or hammers—we had located a few items of interest. Instead of recovering the items immediately, we had photographed them and left them where they were found until we could complete the search. Now that we were done, it was time to document the exact locations of each item in relation to the other items and the walls of the warehouse.
Dawn pushed a tuft of wet hair from her face and sighed. “Want to grab a bite before starting the documentation?”
I agreed and we moved to the shade behind the building, which was where we’d set up a makeshift table and chairs to eat our meals. I grabbed some meat and drinks from the ice chest and she laid out some bread to make sandwiches. As we ate, we discussed our findings.
There wasn’t much to talk about…a pair of torn panties, an old Zippo lighter, a key ring with three keys, a pair of broken eyeglasses, and the baseball bat. Other than the keys, which had been located under a pile of wood near the broken bundle, the other items were found within the same five grids and located near the rolling door.
“We’ll need to get the bat swabbed for DNA and have it compared to the old man,” Dawn said. “If it matches, we’re in the money. Now, if only we can get him identified…”
“We’ll send photographs of his clothes and property to the local media outlets and see if anyone recognizes them.” I bit into my ham sandwich and chewed while I thought. Once I’d swallowed, I shot a thumb over a shoulder. “Do you think the eyeglasses belong to him?”
“It’s quite possible.”
“And the keys?”
Dawn was thoughtful. “One looks like a house key and the other two look like boat keys.”
“We can put those on the news, too. What about the panties?”
“What about them?” Dawn asked.
“Do you think they’re his?”
She shook her head. “Not his color.”
I grinned and finished the last of my lunch. After we’d taken care of our trash (I hated litter even more than I hated mosquitoes), we then started recovering the items and bagging them one by one. When we got to the Zippo lighter, I hefted it in my gloved hand. “I wonder if this lighter goes with the old pack of cigarettes Doctor Fitch found in Father Bone’s pocket?”
“Isn’t that a special kind of lighter?”
“I know they’re collectibles and if they’re old enough they can be worth something.” I turned it over to see the bottom, but it was covered in mud. Dawn had hit on it with the metal detector and we’d had to dig it out of the mud. “My dad had one with his name engraved on it and I remember him talking about the date stamp on the bottom.”
Holding the lighter over the evidence bag it would eventually go in, I began scraping the mud off the bottom with my gloved thumb. Once I had removed most of it, I was able to see the logo on the bottom of the lighter, along with four dots, a space, and then three dots, as well as a patent number. I held it so Dawn could see and she pulled out her phone and searched on the internet for the meaning.
“Damn, it looks like this thing is over fifty years old,” she said, comparing the image on the website to the bottom of the lighter.
I thought I saw some lettering on the flip-top lid of the lighter, so I began trying to rub the mud off. It was slow going, thanks to the latex glove, but I finally removed enough of the crud to reveal a single word. I stepped toward the door and held it to the light so I could see it better. When I did, a chill reverberated up and down my spine. I must’ve cursed, because Dawn rushed over and asked what was going on.
I tilted the lighter so she could see the name engraved into the side of the lid.
“Good Lord, is that who I think it is?”
I nodded. “It is.”
CHAPTER 39
Tuesday, October 9
Dawn and I had worked late into the day on Monday. We’d spent most of the time gathering up the evidence we’d recovered, and then we drove to Payneville and secured everything into evidence lockers at the detective bureau. By the time we were done, it was much too late to head out on the water, so we’d arranged for Norm to meet us at the Seasville Boat Launch first thing this morning.
It was almost seven when we drove up, and he was already in his boat waiting for us.
“Please tell me there won’t be any dead bodies on this trip,” he said when we boarded the Boston Whaler and took our seats. “I’m not interested in getting killed so far away from retirement.”
“This’ll be an easy one,” I assured him. “No blood, no fuss…just a simple notification.”
“Somehow, I’m not convinced.” He fired up the twin engines and pulled away from the dock. Once we were heading down Bayou Magnolia, the cool wind began whipping Dawn’s hair around and some of it brushed against my face. She apologized, but I waved her off. She smelled good and I found my thoughts drifting from the task at hand to the date that was planned.
I wanted it to be memorable and meant going to a special place. I’d heard of an awesome seafood restaurant northeast of Magnolia that was called Half Docked. It was supposed to be located at the end of a long road that cut through the swamps and it was situated on the side of a large lake. A friend of mine had gone with his wife and he told me they sat at an outdoor table overlooking the lake. He said his wife claimed it was the most romantic place he’d ever taken her. I knew next to nothing about being romantic, so I was open to any suggestions—
“Did you hear me?” Dawn asked over the roar of the engines.
I snapped back to the present and noticed we were already heading down Pelican Pass. “I’m sorry…what?”
“How do you think they’ll react?”
I shook my head. “It’s hard to say. I imagine they’ll want to hunt down the persons responsible and kill them one by one.”
“Maybe they’ve already started.”
“But how could they know about Wilton?”
She only shrugged.
I slowly stood as Norm guided the boat to the edge of Pelican Pass and brought it to a stop just as it made contact with the bank. I scanned the woods that surrounded us, knowing members of the Simoneaux clan were out there watching us. They’d probably heard us coming from the moment we turned onto Pelican Pass.
“Wait here,” I said to Norm, and led Dawn out of the boat and across the Simoneaux property. The side door opened long before we reached the steps and an elderly man stood at the landing waiting for us to get closer. It was Frank Simoneaux and his face was just as sad as the last time I’d seen it. Of course, I couldn’t say I blame him, because he had suffered things no man should ever have to endure. And here I was about to make his day even worse.
Frank wore the same black baseball cap he always wore and his long flannel shirt was already covered in sweat. I didn’t know how long he had been up that day, but I was sure he’d been working since early morning. I waved a greeting as we got to within a few yards of the steps.
“Detectives, what can I do for y’all?” He didn’t smile, but I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t disappointed to see us. “It’s not often we get company from the law, so I’m not sure if I should be happy or worried. Quentin’s been out on the water all morning and I hope it’s not something to do with him—”
“No, it has nothing to do with Quentin,” I said quickly. “It’s nothing to do with any of your sons. We just have to relay some information to you and your family.”
Frank nodded and waved us up the steps. “Well, then, come on in and let’s talk.”
I stepped back and allowed Dawn to go up the steps first. Once we were seated at the table inside the cramped kitchen, Frank called for his wife to join us. Just as she appeared at the hall entrance, the back door burst open and Orville rushed inside.
“Dad, there’s a law boat out front—” He
stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Dawn and me sitting at the table. He opened his mouth to speak and then clamped it shut, as though confused. When he finally found his voice, he asked what we were doing there.
I noticed fresh blood smeared on his hands and the front of his faded overalls. I instinctively glanced toward the back door, which led to their large wooden porch, and he sidestepped in an attempt to block my view. I nodded my understanding, catching the scent of fresh alligator carcass on the wind that blew in from the open back door.
“I’m only here for one thing,” I said, nodding my head to reassure him. “Why don’t you close that door and get cleaned up so we can talk.”
Still unsure, Orville backed toward the door and kicked it shut with his boot. He then spun around and hurried toward the back of the house. He returned minutes later wearing a set of overalls that were just a little cleaner than the last ones—at least the blood stains on this set were not fresh. He pulled up an old wooden stool and sat with his back against the wall. He glanced from his dad to his mom and then asked me why we were there.
“We’re here to talk about your grandfather,” I began slowly. “You told me he disappeared without a trace in the swamps.”
Orville leaned forward a bit. “That’s right. He left one morning and was never seen or heard from again.”
“Did you find him? Is he okay?” Frank asked. I detected a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “My mom always suspected he was sitting on a beach somewhere far away with a bunch of island women falling at his feet.”
I frowned and reached into a file folder to remove a stack of pictures we had printed up for this meeting. The first one was of the clothes Doctor Fitch had removed from the remains of Father Bones. I slid it across the table. “Do you recognize these clothes?”
Frank reached in his shirt pocket and removed a pair of broken reading glasses from inside. He set them on his nose and peered through the glass. Although they were crooked, they seemed to work. “I don’t know. It’s hard to remember that far back.” Frank handed the picture to Orville. “You were so young that I doubt you’d remember what he was wearing that day.”