by Jim Riley
"Even if George committed those heinous acts, it doesn't mean he killed Omar."
"I'm sure you've heard the official theory. George killed Omar to cover up the theft of the money from the campaign funds, and then things spiraled out of control from there. Now there's a killer out there who doesn't know if it was George who hired her."
Those statements confirmed Alicia had a source deep within the Sheriff's Department. Her first thought was Samson Mayeaux.
"If you know the theory, then you also know it could fit you. You could have hired Paula to kill Omar, and after I talked to you, you might have become nervous. Then things might have ballooned."
"But why would I want to kill the other candidates? It makes no sense."
"But according to your theory, you did. Paula Netterville killed them because she did not know it was you who hired her to kill Omar."
"Why would I want to kill Omar? With him gone, the cash flow stops. It would be pretty stupid of me to unplug my personal ATM." Alicia showed no emotion.
"I know you said you were indifferent to Omar's escapades. But I also know you're a woman. As his wife, it had to hurt you in the deepest part of your soul."
A small tear formed in the corner of Alicia's eye. At first, she did not wipe it. Then it rolled down her cheek. and the widow had no choice. Then it was followed by another.
Niki moved next to Alicia and put an arm around her shoulder. She yanked a tissue from the box on the end table and helped Alicia daub her eyes.
"How did you know?" Alicia asked.
"You tried too hard not to show how much you cared," Niki replied. "You are still in love with Omar."
"Very much so. Omar was a special man. He let his manly ways get in the way, but he really couldn't help it. I know, deep down, he still loved me."
"Did you hire someone to kill him?"
Alicia did not answer directly.
"I thought the police had pretty much closed the case except for arresting that Netterville woman if they can find her. They are sure George Thomas hired her."
"I know. I talked directly to them," Niki admitted.
"But if you're here asking me questions, that means you don't agree."
"There are a few things troubling me."
"Like what?" Alicia asked.
"For one, the money. I doubt if many people had access to the financial records. Yet, someone found out George embezzled a lot of money from Omar."
"And you think I have access to those records?"
"Among others. I talked with Chrissy last night."
"She isn't smart enough. Omar wasn't attracted to her because of her mind," Alicia almost smiled.
"I think she may have more on the ball than most people give her credit," Niki replied.
"She was on the ball, but were talking about a different set of balls."
Niki changed the subject before it could further deteriorate.
"The other thing was the tip about the rifle. Who, other than George, would know he was hiding it in a shed?"
"Do you think it was planted?" Alicia asked.
"That makes sense to me. Unfortunately, the Sheriff's Department disagrees with me."
"You think I hired someone to kill Omar. After that, I asked the same person to kill you. Then after everything blew up, I framed George Thomas. Then somehow, I got him killed in jail."
"That's about the sum of it," Niki admitted. "Except for George getting killed in jail. I don't think you or anyone else could have arranged that."
"Don't kid yourself, Niki. Somebody told those inmates what George was accused of. It wasn't on the arrest warrant. Only the attempted murders and the money were listed."
Chapter One Hundred
Sunday afternoon
Central
"Samson, Alicia Philbin knows a lot more about this investigation than me. How am I supposed to help if you are holding information back?" Niki was not a happy camper sitting in the Chief of Homicide's office.
"I was gonna call you," Samson said softly.
"When? After it was published in the Morning Advocate? After every TV station in Baton Rouge had already run it during the six o'clock news?"
"I wanted to make sure I was giving you confirmed information. I didn't want you to go off half-cocked chasing rabbits down the wrong bunny trail."
"I'm not as half-witted or as half-cocked as you believe. I'm fully cocked, and I'm aiming directly between your eyes."
"Again, we haven't confirmed any of the information Alicia gave you. It's still preliminary stuff."
"Were those rope marks on George's wrists preliminary and unconfirmed?"
"We–uh, the corner called and said her initial inspection revealed what could have been rope burns, but did not confirm it. I haven't seen the photographs yet."
"But somebody in your department is spreading the word throughout Central. Somebody believes it."
"We're having trouble keeping everything inside our staff. There is a tremendous amount of interest in this case, and it's normal for some officers to want to be the ones with inside knowledge."
"Are you closing the case? Do you believe George hired Paula through Guido? Do you think someone just happened to find out about the embezzlement? Do you think someone sneaked over to his farm and found where he had hidden the rifle?"
"Which question do you want me to answer?" The immense chief tried to shrink in his chair.
"Don't worry about answering any of them." Niki rose, her face beet red and her eyes wide. "If I want to know anything about the investigation, I'll look up Alicia Philbin. She seems to know everything I don't."
The young investigator stormed out of the office, slamming Samson's door along the way. She did not bother to stop and chat with any of the officers. Even when she got behind the wheel of her Ford Explorer, Niki's breaths were still uneven. Her fingers lost color when she clutched the steering wheel too tight and contemplated her next move.
Chapter One Hundred One
Paula contemplated the next move. She, too, had inside sources at the Sheriff's office. She knew the theory about George Thomas and had the same doubts as Niki Dupre. Paula had done research on George.
While she found the man reprehensible for his acts against kids, she did not believe George was capable of murdering another man or being responsible for doing so. There was a huge difference between torturing and killing boys and killing another adult. Paula had a lot of experience with pedophiles, having grown up with one.
Pedophiles did not see kids as little people. Instead, they looked at them as toys to be played with and enjoyed. When the enjoyment faded, the toy could and should be destroyed. George could not leave old toys lying around. He had to dispose of them.
But most pedophiles viewed adults differently. They saw them as human beings. Just ones who had different interests than his own. For that reason, he could not share his toys with other men. They might not like his form of amusement, and might take his toys away from him. He feared people because they could expose him. To get involved with the murder of another adult would risk the biggest secret of his life.
That left Paula with a dilemma. She had already had opportunities to kill Jimmy Gill and Kenny Long. The assassin was almost certain Jimmy Gill did not hire Guido. He would have given her that information to get back his twins. She still wanted to kill him, however.
Jimmy Gill had fooled her and that was something she could not tolerate. It could not be ignored. Paula found out Niki Dupre was still alive and breathing despite the video Gill sent her. Retribution was not only desired, it was necessary.
Now she had to decide. Should she kill Kenny Long first or Jimmy? Then she thought of Alicia Philbin. The assassin had assumed one of the other candidates had ordered Omar's death. But it was possible his wife had hired Guido.
And then there was the ultimate prize. She would no longer depend on someone else. She would be the one to take Niki Dupre's life.
Chapter One Hundred Two
Niki was st
ill upset when she returned to the office. Drexel and Donna looked up when she slammed the front door.
"I assume the discussion with Samson didn't go so well," Drexel observed.
"I feel like kicking his big butt down to New Orleans and then up to Shreveport," Niki snorted.
"If you're going to kick both sides, it might take a while. You might want to pack a lunch," Donna giggled.
"I don't care how long it takes. When I get through, he'll need to get some new boxers. About four sizes smaller."
"Do you mind if I sell tickets?" Drexel asked. "At least then, we might be able to generate a little revenue off of this case."
"We can put them in an MMA cage and put it on pay-per-view. We would never have to work again," Donna offered.
"But then we would get more for the rematch. Samson will probably claim he was overlooking Niki in the first one because she's a little girl," Drexel laughed.
"It's not funny," Niki yelled. "People are losing their lives, and that hippopotamus is withholding information and not telling us."
"Is this about what happened to George in jail?" Drexel was no longer laughing.
"That's part of it," Niki said. "A large part of it."
"But it turns out they were right, the cops I mean. Thomas was doing awful things to little boys," Donna recounted.
"That's not the point. They suspected that's what he was doing, but they had no proof when they allowed those goons to kill him." Niki was not cooling down. "What they did was to execute him."
"Niki," Drexel used a softer tone. "Life behind bars is not the same as it is on the street. There is no appeal process when they find out some idiot hurt kids or women."
Niki paced back and forth. She went to the refrigerator and retrieved a Cherry Dr Pepper. After taking a couple of gulps, her nerves settled.
"You guys are right," she said, after taking a seat behind her desk. "I just thought we were on the same side as Samson."
"Consider it payback," Drexel said.
"Payback for what?"
"He found out you knew about the investment accounts Omar stashed away and you didn't tell him. That could never go over too well, and maybe the chief thought he had let you know how it feels," Drexel said.
"I never considered that. We couldn't tell him without explaining where we got it from, and I didn't want to go there."
"Now you're in his shoes. How does it feel?" Drexel asked.
"Not too good," Niki answered. "In fact, it sucks."
"Then I'd say Samson got his point across," Drexel smiled. "Maybe we ought to let it go and move on."
"You're right," Niki allowed herself a faint smile. "Where are we?"
"We've been talking," Donna nodded at Randy. "We think Paula will go after Kenny Long again. She got interrupted the first time around."
Niki thought about it for a few minutes while nursing the soft drink. Drexel and Donna waited patiently for her to analyze the situation.
"I think it depends," Niki said. "By now, she has probably realizes I'm alive. That means she has a score to settle with Jimmy. I don't know which one of them she will go after first."
"The one thing we have working for us is she has established a pattern," Donna sounded hopeful. "She prefers to kill people at night."
"That means she will try to kill one of them tonight," Niki mused. "She's got to know her time is short now that we know who she is."
"Which one do we cover, Kenny or Jimmy?" Donna asked.
"Both," Niki said finally.
Chapter One Hundred Three
Tuesday night
Central's
Paula crept up to the house. Peeking in the window, she saw the blinking light on the alarm panel by the front door. Then she ducked behind a bush when car lights appeared from the end of the street.
Her adrenaline flowed. Being in danger and taking a risk made her job more enjoyable. Killing other people was fun, but putting her life in peril during the process raised the excitement level exponentially.
The car passed Paula and pulled into a driveway a block away. The garage door opened, but the space within was packed with cardboard boxes, old furniture, and other stuff that belonged in a yard sale. An old tired man got out, his back bent forward as he trudged through the mess into the house. When the garage door went down, Paula wondered what the old man did for a living. From his posture, she was sure it was not as exciting as her career choice. But then, not many other careers were.
Paula went to the side of the house and found the electrical wiring extending into the large panel. She popped it open without the use of any tools. There were two editions, a green wire and a red one. From one brief look inside, she knew the model of the security system was a House Saver 2100C.
One of the characteristics touted by the firm that sold the monitor was the unique way it was wired. If either the red wire or the green wire was cut, the alarm would sound and the service company notified. Paula figured a way around the system.
She took out a small screwdriver and loosened the connection to the red wire. When it lost contact, the alarm sounded inside the home. Paula quickly climbed the trellis on the side of the house and flattened herself against the rooftop.
Within four minutes, a car with yellow flashing lights flew down the street and pulled into the driveway. Two uniformed personnel jumped out of the car and raced to the door. The bigger of the two pounded on the door.
"Security," he yelled.
Then he banged on the door again. Then Paula heard the door crack open.
"Your alarm is reporting a violation. Do you mind if we check it out?" The big fellow asked.
Without responding, the occupant opened the door wide. Both security guards entered the home. Paula waited patiently on the roof. She would have liked to hear the conversation inside the home, but it really wasn't that germane to her plan.
After ten minutes, the door opened again. The guards stepped outside.
"We'll have a technician dropped by in the morning and see where the malfunction is in your system. For now, you'll have to keep it turned off, or you will hear it all night."
"I'll leave it off," the homeowner said.
"Thank you," the bigger of the two security guards said. "If you hear anything suspicious tonight, give us a ring. We'll be here in a jiffy."
The door closed, and the two guards got in the car and left. Paula eased down the trellis and hid behind the bush. She waited for another hour in this position to give the owner plenty of time to go back to sleep.
Then she picked the lock in less than fifteen seconds. The assassin took out a can of lubricating oil and sprayed the hinges. When she opened the door, it did not make a sound. She slid inside the home in near complete darkness, fighting the emergence of excitement in her body.
The only dim light came from a small bulb in the hallway. People usually installed them to keep from turning on a big light if they moved around after all the other lights were turned off. For Paula, it meant that she did not need to use the small penlight in her pouch.
Taking several deep breaths, Paula edged down the hallway. She did not bother stopping at the first two doors, one of which was open. When she reached the third door, she stopped and bent over, her ear resting on the entrance.
She heard the owner snoring, completely unaware a killer was standing less than fifteen feet away. Paula opened the door a fraction of an inch at a time. When it was only partially ajar, she wedged her lean body through the narrow slot.
Once inside the bedroom, Paula remained quietly standing at the foot of the bed. Her heart raced. Her skin tingled. The hair on her arm stood straight up. Even as she pulled the syringe from her pouch, her fingers trembled.
The snorer coughed and rolled over. Paula tensed to pounce, but the soft snoring began again within a couple of seconds. Paula realized she had been holding her breath for those two seconds.
The assassin edged to the side of the bed until she was abreast of the owner's face. Then she stopped again
to savor the moment. This unique experience was why she chose this profession.
She pulled a piece of tape out of the pouch. She held it above the owner's lips until she was sure she had gauged the distance correctly. Then Paula slapped the tape over the mouth and fell on top of the awakening owner. Her right hand held the syringe up to the face.
"Good morning, Mrs. Philbin," Paula whispered.
"Gr-gr-gr." Alicia tried to respond to the tape.
"Don't try anything, or this needle full of poison will slip right into that pretty face of yours."
Again a mumbled response, but Alicia did not attempt to throw Paula off.
"I need to ask you some questions."
A slight nod from Alicia.
"If you answer my questions truthfully, I'll let you live."
Another nod.
"If I think you're lying to me, you only have a few minutes left on this earth."
Alicia's eyes were wide as saucers, but she did manage another slight nod.
"Good, I like to have conversations with smart women. So much better than men, don't you think?"
Alicia gave no sign of assent, but did not disagree either.
"Good. First question. Did you hire someone to kill Omar?"
Alicia vigorously shook her head. The smell of urine emanated from beneath the sheets.
"Wet yourself? Don't worry. You're doing great so far."
Another slight nod.
"Do you know who hired Guido to kill your husband?"
Another vicious shake of the head. Paula pushed the tip of the needle into Alicia's cheek. The widow instinctively winced and tried to draw back.
"Don't do anything stupid," Paula warned. "I only wanted you to know I'm serious. Okay?"
Alicia nodded, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.
"Don't cry. Let the men cry. We women have to stay strong."