Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  The shots came from an area near the landing on Spirit Island. Yet, when Bobby searched up and down the bank, he found nothing. No tracks. No spent cartridges. No sniper's nest. Bobby had identified the weapon as a .243. Niki had heard the report of every caliber from a .22 short rifle to a .457 magnum used to bring down an elephant. To her, it was difficult to distinguish between a .243, a 6mm and a .257. All had similar reports.

  While all these thoughts swarmed around her head, the real reason of her unrest could not be ignored. Something had happened on the island. A warm cocoon had enveloped and protected her. There was no logical reason. It had appeared when she was in trouble. The warmth surrounded her like a moat. The phenomenon piqued her interest.

  The agile detective believed in guardian angels. She read Billy Graham’s authoritative book on the subject. But she had never heard of angels embodying the spirits of swamp monsters. That was not in the book.

  Since she could not sleep, Niki decided to get her daily routine out of the way early. Usually, she started the three-hour regimen around four in the morning. It was still two hours before that.

  She began with the Daily Dozen, a series of stretching exercises that kept her body loose and flexible. After an hour, she spent the next sixty minutes in every pose in Kempo. During a fight, she wanted her muscle memory to take her to the correct position without having to think about it. Then the last hour was spent on the bags. One was the heavy body bag. The other three were speed bags she arranged in various positions and heights.

  The detective skipped the thirty-minute run. Instead, she took a shower and packed. This time, she was not that concerned with her wardrobe. Old jeans. Long sleeve shirts. Thick socks. Plenty of mosquito dope. Then she threw in a mosquito smoke stick. The salesman swore that it would drive the little pests crazy and keep them away. But he also told her he was sure she had been his lover in a previous life. She bought the stick anyway.

  She figured that if the stick did not work, it would at least provide cover while she ran away from the spirits of the rougarous. If she did not choke on the smoke first.

  Thursday Morning

  Spirit Island

  Niki found the boat exactly where John told her it would be. She unlocked the chains securing it to the pilings and held her breath when she turned the key. To her surprise, the engine purred. She backed the vessel into the channel and turned to face the island, trepidation filling her soul. She remembered the alligator attack the last time she crossed the channel in a larger boat.

  A swirl to the right. Another to the left. A huge roil in front of the boat. The long-legged detective pulled out the S&W .38 revolver from the holster in the small of her back. Then, realizing the limitations of the small caliber weapon, she put it back. The swells in the water became more intense. Then one of the ancient reptiles bumped the side of the boat.

  She gunned the engine. It died. She turned the key. Nothing.

  With no power in the middle of the channel, the small boat floated downstream with the current. The alligators grew more aggressive, attacking from all sides. Niki stood. Only her kempo training allowed her to stay upright when a huge reptile hit the side.

  The small revolver was useless. If she stayed alive long enough, the small vessel would float into the main channel of the Mississippi. With the engine dead, the little boat could not elude the barges and ships transporting goods up and down the river.

  The lean detective eyed the bank of Spirit Island. Maybe seventy-five yards. At least half a dozen hungry gators between her and dirt. Not the odds to go all-in on. But what choice did she have?

  Niki poised on the brow. She took in a deep breath. Suddenly, one gator decided to join her in the boat. It came from her right side, its short front legs hanging over the edge. The boat tilted in that direction because of the weight of the predator.

  The agile detective spun and kicked the animal in its throat, sending the gator sprawling back into the swirling water. Another used the opportunity to attack from the other side. Niki spun, and the reptile ducked back below the surface.

  Then a warm cocoon swept over the long lady. The alligators sank to the depths of the channel. The water became calm. Niki tried the key again, and the engine fired up. Brimming with confidence, Niki steered toward Spirit Island.

  Wednesday Morning

  Spirit Island

  Dalton returned to the remote island in the predawn light. His first stop was the Welker camp. He ensured that the attractive strawberry-blonde had gone. He picked up food, medical supplies and bottled water. The ham was gone, but he found a smoked turducken in the freezer, more than an adequate substitute. Using a backpack from one bedroom, he descended the stairs and strode toward the swamp.

  His mind wandered. At first he thought of Juliette. How vibrant she had been in life. How stark she had been in death. His last view had been the latter. It was one that he could not get out of his mind. His thoughts were so far away that he did not see the venomous cottonmouth until it struck an inch above his boot.

  The senator yelled more from surprise than from pain. He fell backward into the mire. Then Dalton crawled away from the reptile. The territorial snake followed the human, protecting its domain. Being one of the most aggressive and venomous animals in the world, the water moccasin feared little and backed down from no other members of the animal kingdom.

  Dalton crawled faster on his back. The snake sped up its advance. The quicker that the senator moved, the serpent was much more efficient in its movements, closing the distance rapidly. The slithering reptile propelled its body, along with the sharp fangs, within two feet of Dalton's face. One strike to his face meant an agonizing death. He crossed his arms to protect the tender spots.

  “Stay calm. He won't strike if you stay still.”

  The feminine voice came from behind him, in the direction of the camp. He had not seen Niki walk up. All of his attention riveted on the snake.

  Dalton did not move his arms. He could not see the detective. Through the crack in his arms, he saw the snake. It was in the same position, only inches from his face.

  “Don't move,” Niki repeated. “And don't talk.”

  He heard her soft steps approaching. He could smell the aromatic perfume. A stick appeared between the snake and his body. It poked right in the middle of the coil of the snake. Niki lifted the serpent into the air and placed it several feet from Dalton. To his shock, the animal slithered away, no longer interested in playing games with the humans.

  When Dalton turned his attention from the snake to the other end of the stick, he saw the smiling face of Niki Dupre. A guardian angel to the fallen senator. He fumbled the words.

  “How—? What—? Who—?”

  She knelt beside him.

  “Where did he hit you?”

  Dalton pointed at his shin of his right leg. Niki pulled his pants up and grinned.

  “The fangs didn't penetrate the skin. Lucky you wear thick pants.”

  She pulled his pants leg down and helped him to his feet.

  “By the way, nice legs.”

  Dalton laughed, his communication skills returning.

  “Who are you? Why are you here? How did you find me?” he asked in rapid succession.

  Niki laughed with her hands on her hips.

  “A little thank you would have been nice before the interrogation.”

  “I'm sorry,” Dalton said, brushing the debris from his clothes. “It's only that this is so unreal. You showed up right in the Wilson of time and the snake seemed to listen to you. I don't believe this is happening to me. So, so strange.”

  “And—” Niki grinned.

  “And thank you. Thank you for saving my life.”

  Niki glanced at the handsome gentleman, handsome even under these circumstances. She grabbed the fallen backpack.

  “You're welcome. I'm glad to be of help.”

  “What was that?” Dalton glanced in the direction of the departed snake. “What power do you have over the animals
?”

  She handed over the backpack.

  “I'm not sure I understand the animals on this island myself. I figured that your little friend didn't have a trip to Disneyland in store for you. I'd say that he didn't have much of a future planned for you at all.”

  “Who are you?” Dalton asked while strapping on the backpack. “What are you doing on Spirit Island?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, except that I have permission to be here,” the detective said with a wry smile. “And I do recognize you. You've been in the news quite a bit lately.”

  “I still don't know your name.”

  “Niki. Niki Dupre. I'm a private investigator.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to figure out if you plan to feed all the critters in the swamp with the food you stole from Mr. Welker's camp.”

  “If we go another fifty yards, you'll find the entrance to a bunker. That's where I was going before your pet rudely interrupted me. You still haven't told me why you're here.”

  “Bobby Welker hired me to find his dad, Henry. He's the one you're stealing groceries from.”

  “I'm not stealing them.”

  “Duh,” Niki said. “When you take something that doesn't belong to you, that's pretty much the definition of stealing.”

  Dalton did not respond. Instead, he walked to the top of the bunker. Niki followed. He slid the cover off to one side.

  “Just walk down those stairs and I believe you will understand why I took the groceries.”

  Niki paused. She was in the company of a fugitive wanted for murder. Only her confidence from many years of Kempo training let her descend the stairs, every step creaking despite her slim frame. Dalton followed closely behind. One bulb did not do much of a job of illuminating the underground room. However, the slim detective had no problem recognizing the first thing she saw.

  “What the—” she said to the rifle barrel pointed at her face. In a flash, the detective kicked the gun into the air. Then she caught it with her left hand. Her other foot landed in the midsection, sending him reeling. Niki spun and pointed the rifle at Dalton.

  “You shouldn't try to lead me into a trap. It's gonna turn out bad for you and him.”

  Dalton charged passed her to the fallen elderly Welker.

  “You didn't have to hurt him. He wasn't gonna shoot you.”

  “When a man points a gun at me, I have to assume he plans to use it,” Niki responded, still holding the rifle.

  “Who the hell are you?” Welker rasped, holding his chest.

  “Henry, no need for such hostility,” Dalton said. “Miss Dupre is our guest. I believe she is searching for you.”

  “What the hell makes you think that?” Welker had his voice back. “I've never laid eyes on this woman in my life.”

  “I saw her with Bobby at the camp. She has his permission to be here.”

  “You know my son?” Welker asked.

  “I'm a friend of a friend,” Niki replied. “Bobby hired me to find you. He was worried.”

  “Was? Did he quit worrying about me?”

  Niki glanced at Dalton.

  “You'd better sit down for this, Henry,” the senator said.

  He helped the elderly man from the floor to the cot.

  “What she meant is that Bobby is dead. He had too much to drink and hit an eighteen-wheeler head on. He felt no pain, Henry.”

  Welker grabbed his chest. Tears rolled down his rough cheeks.

  “Bobby. Bobby.”

  Those were the only words the old man could utter. He fell back on the cot. Niki knelt beside him.

  “Please don't leave me now, Mr. Welker. I just found you.”

  “I'm glad it was him you were chasing and not me,” Dalton smiled.

  “Why would I be chasing you?” Niki asked.

  “I'm getting paranoid, I guess. I keep thinking the entire world is after me.”

  “They are,” Niki did not smile. “Can't say that I blame them. Why don't you turn yourself in?”

  “Because I didn't kill Juliette, but I can't prove it. All the evidence points at me.”

  “My friend is heading up the investigation,” Niki said. “He thinks it's an open and shut case. His career rests on finding you and putting you in jail.”

  “He should feel that way,” Dalton explained. He told her about the discovery of Juliette's body in the condo, the sighting in the hall and dropping the bloody knife with his fingerprints all over it. She did not interrupt until he finished.

  “You and Mr. Welker can't stay in this place,” Niki motioned around the dimly lit room. “We have to get him to a place where we can take better care of him.”

  “We? Are you willing to help even though your friend is looking for me?”

  Niki took in a deep breath. Her head told her to turn Bridgestone over to the authorities. Her heart told her to believe him. The slim detective could read through the facade most people built when telling a lie. Bridgestone was a sociopath, or he told the truth. She had no way of knowing which.

  Wednesday Morning

  Spirit Island

  "How is he?" Dalton pointed at Welker. "Do you think he will make it?"

  Niki nodded. "He's breathing. I guess the shock was too much for him. How long have you known?"

  Dalton rubbed his chin.

  "Almost as soon as it happened. There aren’t many secrets in the city the size of Baton Rouge, especially when it involves one of the most prominent families whose patriarch is missing and presumed dead. I didn't tell him because I wasn't sure he was well enough to take the news."

  Niki looked around in the dimly lit bunker.

  "Why are you here?"

  "Hiding," he responded.

  He then told her of the discovery of Juliette's body, the manipulation of the evidence to frame him, his knowledge of the bunker, the rescue of Welker and his observation of her at the tail. She did not interrupt.

  When he finished, she stated, "You and Mr. Welker can’t stay here forever. You can take better care of him and he will heal faster at the camp."

  He shook his head.

  "We don't need to do that. Once you get back to Baton Rouge and tell everyone about us, this place will be swarming with every federal estate agency known to mankind and a few never heard of."

  Niki fell quiet for a minute before answering.

  "Wouldn't that mean an almost certain death penalty for you?"

  Dalton nodded. "But you have no other alternative, really."

  Niki looked him squarely in his eyes. "I might surprise you with the alternatives I have. We need to find some way to get him to the camp without killing him."

  Dalton stood and leaned over her shoulder looking at Welker.

  "We’ll kill him for sure if we try dragging that far."

  He backed off and paced up and down the confined space.

  "I've got it you like your negotiate. Can you carry one end if we put a sheet under him?"

  She nodded. "For a little way, at least."

  He grinned.

  "That's all we need. There is an ATV trail about a hundred yards from here. It we can get him there we've got it made."

  Niki protested. "He can't ride on the basket in front of a four-wheeler. It’ll bust up his insides."

  Dalton chuckled. "Are you doubting your elected civil servant? I represent your district, you know."

  She gave him a quizzical look.

  "Remember, I peeked at your driver's license. It has your address on it."

  She retorted, "since when are civil servants medical professionals?"

  Dalton smiled.

  "We have no other choice. I'm not medically trained, but I know a way to get Henry to the camp if you will help me. It doesn't involve an ATV, not the kind you're thinking about, anyway."

  They positioned the sheet from the mattress under Welker. The couple then lifted him with Dalton at the head and shoulders and Niki at the feet of the old man. Getting him up the stairs and out of th
e bunker was not easy. Dalton took the lower position. When they completed the first step of the arduous task, they laid Welker on the ground and rested.

  Dalton looked nervously at their surroundings.

  "I hope none of your friends decide to pay us a visit."

  Niki grimaced and knelt beside Welker.

  "It won't matter much. He won't have much blood left by the time we get to the camp.”

  Dalton bent over Welker, "I don't see any of the bandages leaking."

  Niki shook her head.

  "Won't matter if they do or not. Those millions of mosquitoes would drain him dry before we get him there.

  Dalton waved his head to momentarily chase them away, but it was of little deterrent. He rose and raced back down the stairs. When he emerged, he held two cans of repellent.

  "Brought these from the camp since they belong to Henry, he should be the one that benefits from their use."

  A liberal dose of spray kept the buzzing pests at bay. They carried Welker a few yards and stopped. Again they repeated the process again and again until they reached the trail. Fortunately, none of the bandages leaked. They placed him in the middle of the path.

  Dalton winked at the panting young investigator.

  "You wait here with Henry. I'll be right back."

  Without waiting for an answer from Niki, he sprinted down the trail toward the camp, leaving the investigator catching her breath on the firmer ground.

  Niki carefully scanned the thick brush surrounding them after Dalton disappeared. Her vigil paid off, when less than ten minutes later she spotted a bobcat stalking them. The short-tailed feline, less than twenty-five yards away, was drawn by the smell of blood, indicating a wounded prey that could easily convert to a tasty meal.

  Niki drew the.38 caliber revolver but knew that hitting a care charging bobcat was almost impossible. Regardless, she placed her body between Welker and the feline, yelling and waving her hands.