London Carter Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

“I can’t make a promise until I hear what you’ve got,” I said evenly. “If what you’re about to say amounts to evidence in this case, I can’t keep that quiet.”

  He hesitated, stared down at his hands for a long moment. “Buster and I have been best friends since before we became cops. I knew him as a kid.”

  More silence.

  “Okay…and?”

  He looked up again. “Several of my men questioned that shooting six months ago at the Jarrie house, but I shut them down because I believed in Buster. Trusted him with my life.”

  “That’s understandable.” I shrugged. “I’d feel the same way about someone who’s been through the shit with me for all those years. When you grow up with someone, you feel you know them. I get it.”

  “Well, turns out I was wrong about the shooting.” He stared back down at his hands. “I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

  “About what?”

  “There’s a connection between Buster and Denny Menard. I don’t know if anyone else is aware of it, but it’s definitely there.”

  I sat up in my chair, fully alert. “How do you mean?”

  Buster lifted his head. His eyes were drawn and I knew this was painful for him to say. He was betraying his friend and he knew it. “He told me he would find and murder the person who killed Denny.”

  I sat confused. I remembered how Buster reacted when I told him we thought Zach killed Denny, but I figured it was because he felt directly responsible for allowing Zach out of jail. “Why would he do that?”

  “Why would he?” Murray grunted. “Hell, London, we might already be too late. I think he’s the one who made an attempt on Zach’s life out at the jail, and I guarantee you he won’t miss the next time.”

  “But why? What’s his motivation?”

  “You never heard this from me.”

  “Heard what?”

  “Denny Menard is Buster’s son.”

  CHAPTER 38

  “We need to talk to Buster right away,” I told Rachael once we were back in my truck. “He’s Denny’s father.”

  I thought she was going to choke on her tongue. “Wait—what? That’s impossible. Uma said Denny’s dad lives in Detroit—unless she lied.”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t ask about Denny’s dad…I asked about her ex, and she answered that question honestly. She even clarified that she was referring to her ex-husband. It was a poorly phrased question and she took advantage of it to avoid having to reveal that fact.”

  Rachael’s chin was nearly resting on her chest. “Uma had a child for him?”

  “It appears so. Buster told Murray that he’s Denny’s father and he said he wanted to kill whoever murdered Denny.” I sighed. “According to Murray, Buster’s on the warpath and he won’t stop until Zach’s dead.”

  Rachael scowled. “But we didn’t know the bullets matched his gun until yesterday afternoon, long after the attempt on his life.”

  “When I brought Zach into the jail on Monday night, I mentioned to Buster that we’d recovered a gun from his car and that it might be the murder weapon.”

  “Wow.” Rachael was thoughtful. “He might’ve actually done this.”

  I nodded as I continued driving.

  “Where are you heading?” She looked around at the trees dashing by. “Are we going to Buster’s house?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’ve got to question him ASAP. I already called the sheriff and let him know what’s going on.”

  “Then you need to turn around. He doesn’t live in Payneville anymore.”

  “He doesn’t?” I slowed to turn my truck around. “Then where are we heading?”

  “Beacher.”

  “Beacher?” I echoed the name of the coastal town located on the southernmost tip of Magnolia Parish, surprised that he could afford to live there. Most of the properties were beachfront and, as such, were out of the price range of any cop I knew, including Buster. In addition to the high property value and the steep costs of building a raised home, hurricanes were a real threat to the Louisiana coast and it oftentimes cost more to insure the house than it did to build it. “Are you sure about that?”

  Rachael nodded. “He moved there a couple of months ago.”

  We made the hour drive without much conversation between us. My thoughts were on the case—although it drifted often to Dawn and her mom—and I wondered if it was already too late for Zach.

  “There it is,” Rachael said, pointing to a large house built high on giant concrete pilings. “The older one.”

  I whistled. “How does he afford that on a cop’s salary?”

  “Maybe he won the lottery and didn’t tell us.”

  We got out of my truck and approached the stairway to the wrap-around wooden porch. We hadn’t made it halfway up when we heard a screen door slam and Buster appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “What are you doing at my house, London Carter?” he demanded to know. “Coming here to gloat?” He raised his hands to indicate his lavish property and his face broke into a large grin. “Looks like I’ll be the one gloating at the end of the day.”

  I didn’t comment until I was standing on the porch in front of him. “Nice place.”

  “I know you didn’t come all this way to compliment my mansion.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “So, what brings you here?”

  “We need to talk about the murder of your son, Denny Menard, and I want to—”

  “Jesus, man, not so loud!” Buster shot a glance over his shoulder, where his wife could be seen through the screen door bustling around in the shadows of the living room area. He rushed down the stairs and waved for us to follow him. We did and he hooked a left around the stairs and strode under the house. As did most Beacher residents with raised houses, they had turned the area beneath the house into a carport and outdoor kitchen, complete with picnic tables and a bathroom. “Keep your voice down…please. I don’t need Beatrice finding out about Denny.”

  “I now know why you were so passionate about this case the last time we talked,” I said pointedly. “You’re his father.”

  Buster scowled. “How long have you known?”

  “I just found out.”

  “Who told you?”

  “That’s not important.” I took a breath, wondering how much I’d get out of him. He was savvy enough to lie his way out of trouble, and stubborn enough to continue lying even when it sounded ridiculous. “What is important is what happened out at the jail yesterday morning.”

  “I heard about that. They said Garland Robichaux got shot. Some crazy shit—shooting someone from outside the jail. That’s got to be a first.” Buster leaned against one of the large concrete pillars. “I met Garland the night before he died. He seemed like a standup guy. He said he beat some prick for hitting his daughter. Hell, I’d do the same thing.” He shook his head and stared at his feet. “Poor bastard had no idea he was going to be dead by the next morning.”

  I nodded, studying his face. “Where were you when it happened?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what time it happened.”

  “It had to be around eight in the morning,” I said. “I got the call a little bit after that.”

  “I was upstairs sleeping.” Buster nodded. “Yep, I got off shift at five and made it here a little after seven.”

  “Do you know what bullet drop is?” I asked.

  “Bullet drop? Not really. I think I actually heard you talking about it at the range once, but I didn’t pay much attention to what you were saying.”

  “Do you know how it works?”

  He shook his head. “It’s some kind of sniper thing, right?”

  I didn’t answer, instead deciding to change gears. “How long have you known you were Denny’s dad?”

  “Ever since he was born.”

  “Was Uma married at the time?”

  “Yeah, her husband left after Denny was born. It seems he was infertile and he never tol
d Uma about it.” He shook his head. “At first, Uma wasn’t sure if the baby was mine or his, but she broke off our relationship to focus on her husband and the baby. The screwed up thing was the dirty bastard knew from the moment she took the pregnancy test that the baby wasn’t his. Instead of telling her, he hung around for about three months trying to catch her messing around. Finally, when she wouldn’t do anything wrong, he broke down and told her he couldn’t have kids.”

  “Wow, that’s messed up,” Rachael said from beside me. “Did Denny know you were his dad?”

  Buster lowered his eyes and shook his head, seemingly embarrassed. “Uma agreed to keep it a secret, because she didn’t want it to interfere with my family.”

  “He’s your family, too,” I said.

  “I know—that’s not what I meant. I told her that my wife would definitely leave me if she knew I’d fathered a child with another woman, so she respected that. Sleeping around is one thing, but impregnating another woman? That would’ve been the death of us.”

  “Did you ever help Uma with childcare expenses…diapers, food, school uniforms, any of it?” Rachael wanted to know.

  “That’s the thing…she never asked for any help. She told me she had it, you know? She was proud that she could take care of things on her own.”

  That sounded exactly like the Uma I knew, and his unwillingness to take care of his own kid sounded like the Buster I knew. It suddenly occurred to me that Uma was referring to Buster when she’d said Denny’s father was a “piece of shit deadbeat”. Something else occurred to me and I shook my head slowly. “You know, Buster, I don’t believe for a second that you tried to kill Zach for Denny.”

  He exhaled sharply. “Good, because I didn’t. Jeez, I’m in enough trouble…” His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do I sense a trap?”

  “Oh, it’s no trap,” I said. “I just think you’re too selfish to try something like that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you wouldn’t dare risk going to prison just to avenge your son’s murder.” I shook my head and studied his face. “Nope, but I’m betting you would murder someone to protect yourself and cover up another crime.”

  “Oh, I would kill someone for killing my son, but I’d make sure I got the right bastard and not some innocent person. As to this bullshit about some other crime, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I walked in a semi-circle, inspecting the camp and property from my vantage point. If Zach had given Buster money to get himself out of the earlier marijuana charge, he might now be blackmailing Buster to help get himself out of this charge. Knowing he couldn’t help Zach, Buster might’ve thought his only option was to take the kid out before he ratted on him. After all, Buster had just acknowledged he was already in “enough trouble”, so he might be desperate enough to do it.

  I waved my hand around in the air, wondering if Zach had access to that much of his dad’s money, and asked, “How can you afford all of this on a cop’s salary?”

  “London, if you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”

  “Why are you stalling? Just answer the question.”

  His face split into a cocky grin. “I can’t afford this on my salary, but, thanks to my wife’s books, we could buy two places like this and throw one of them away.”

  “What does she write?” I asked, a little doubtful and more than mildly curious.

  “Some kind of science fiction romance stuff.” He shrugged. “I think she’s got robots getting it on with humans or something, but I don’t really give a shit—just as long as she keeps raking in the cash.”

  “And she’s got no idea Denny’s your son?”

  Buster pushed off of the pillar, his ears perking up. “No, and she never will.”

  I grinned as I stared into his menacing eyes. “Now, that’s a secret you’d kill to protect, wouldn’t you? But you wouldn’t kill to avenge your own flesh and blood.”

  “London, I’m starting to grow tired of your smartass comments.”

  “Well, you won’t have to put up with them for long.” I stopped walking and turned to face him. “Where can we find Zach?”

  “How would I know?”

  “You handled him as a confidential informant, so you must know all of his hangouts.”

  “If he wasn’t home he was usually hanging with the Jarrie brothers, but since Lance is dead and Cooper is in jail, I doubt he’s anywhere near that place.”

  I nodded, rubbed my chin. I got the feeling Buster was dirty, but I wasn’t sure he was connected to this case. “Do you own a hunting rifle?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t hunt.”

  “Do you mind if I search your house?”

  “For what?”

  “A rifle.”

  “I already told you I don’t have one.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and set his jaw. “If you don’t have a search warrant or an arrest warrant, we’re done here.”

  “Okay.” I turned to Rachael, raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head to let me know she didn’t have any questions. I told Buster we’d be in touch if we needed anything more and we walked to my truck.

  Rachael pulled out her phone as I backed out of the long oyster shell driveway and she began messing with it.

  “We need to get our hands on his bank records,” I said, noticing that Buster was standing at the edge of his carport watching us leave. “We need to know where all of this money is coming from.”

  Rachael just nodded absently as her fingers flew across the screen of her phone. After a few seconds, she swore under her breath.

  “What is it?” I asked, trying to catch a glimpse of her phone.

  “Beatrice is legit.”

  “She’s a real author?”

  “She’s more than that—she’s the top writer on her publisher’s website.” Rachael turned her phone so I could see the screen.

  It was a publishing company that sold electronic books, and the rankings showed the name B.M. Alef in first, second, fourth, and eight place where they listed their top sellers.

  “Is that good?”

  “This is the biggest eBook publisher in the world.”

  “I guess that means she makes money.” I sighed, wondering what other reason Buster might have for wanting Zach dead. And if he was the would-be killer, where’d he get the rifle?

  CHAPTER 39

  Thursday, November 22

  It was almost eight in the morning and I was trying to find a place to park at the Magnolia Life Church when Dawn called. We had been playing phone tag for days and I was glad to finally have a chance to speak with her.

  “You’ll never guess where I am,” I said.

  “In Arkansas?” I detected a hint of hope in her tired voice and I suddenly felt bad for making her guess.

  “No…I wish. I’m at the Magnolia Life Church.”

  She grunted. “I haven’t even been gone a week and you’re already turning to religion?”

  “I’m at Denny’s funeral.” I turned down the street north of the church and headed toward the back, still searching for a parking spot. “And so is everyone else in the parish.”

  “Tell Uma how sorry I am that I’m missing it.”

  I told her I would, and then asked about her mom.

  “She’s hanging in there, but it’s still touch and go. The treatment is really kicking her ass at the moment.”

  “Is that normal?” I finally found a spot between two cars in an open field near the cemetery.

  “They say it’s to be expected.” Dawn was silent for a moment, then said in a soft voice, “We were called in to say our goodbyes twice. Now, every time the damn door to that waiting room opens I jump up thinking it’s the last time I’ll get to see my mom.”

  “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I told her I was hoping and praying her mom would pull through and be stronger than ever.

  “It means a lot.”
After a sigh and a long pause, she asked how I was doing.

  As I locked up my truck and strode toward the church, I told her how the case was progressing and how Rachael and I had spent all afternoon yesterday trying to find Zach. “We turned over every rock in every neighborhood he’s frequented in the past few years, but he’s nowhere to be found.”

  “You think Buster got to him?”

  The thought had crossed my mind. “There’s definitely a bigger picture we’re not seeing yet, but we might need a few more puzzle pieces before it’ll come into view.”

  “Maybe the pieces are there, but they’re upside down or covered up,” Dawn offered. “You might need to kick the box over and rattle some cages a little.”

  I grinned and nodded. “Is it wrong for me to say I miss working with you?”

  “It’s only wrong if all you want to do is work with me.”

  “Yeah, you know better than that.” I stopped walking when I reached the corner of the church. Several yards away, a large group had gathered near the rear entrance to the building. I told Dawn I had to go. “Call me whenever you need to talk. I’ll answer if I can or call back if I can’t.”

  Once I’d ended the call, I merged with the group and made my way inside, where I joined the line waiting to view the body. I studied the faces inside the church as I inched toward the altar. While there were a lot of officers present to support Uma, they were outnumbered at least three to one by the teenagers who had known Denny. It was painfully clear by the dozens upon dozens of tear-streaked faces that his death had hurt a lot of kids.

  I had moved one step forward when a hand grabbed at my sleeve. “Mr. London.”

  I turned to see Lily Pierce standing there in a black dress, her eyes red and her face flushed. I hugged her and asked how she was doing, although I knew how difficult this had to be for her.

  “I’ll be okay.” She wiped her eyes and nodded to reassure me. “Thanks so much for taking me to dinner last month. It was really good to see you and Miss Dawn.” She looked around, her eyes turning curious. “By the way, where is she?”

  I explained that Dawn was in Arkansas spending time with her mom, and I told her why.