Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  The forty-pound cat inched closer and closer, ignoring her antics. When the predator stopped within fifteen yards, the investigator shouted and extended the revolver in front of her with a two-handed grip. Her voice cracked and the muscles and her taut body ached.

  The first feline raised itself from his belly, staring at the bleeding old man on the ground only yards away. Its ears were flat, indicating it was ready to charge. Then the familiar warm cocoon surrounded Niki’s full body. She lowered the weapon and chuckled.

  "Get out of here, you silly cat." She casually waved one hand at the cat.

  The bobcat lost all interest in the pair of stranded humans and trotted away in search of a fat swamp rat. Niki hummed. She was still in melodious spirit when she heard a loud roar coming up the trail. Before long, a large green and yellow John Deere tractor rambled up to them. It was equipped with a front-end loader basket. Packed in the bucket were two mattresses taken from the bunk beds in the youngsters bedroom. Dalton lowered the bucket flat on the ground only inches from Welker. With only a small effort, they rolled Welker to a comfortable rest.

  Dalton looked at Niki, "Would you rather drive or ride shotgun?"

  She looked at the massive farm machinery.

  "They forgot to teach me how to drive one of these between home eq and cheer leading practice. I guess I'll ride shotgun, wherever that might be."

  Bridgestone pointed at Welker in the basket.

  "That means you get to ride with him, and make sure he's okay when I hit some puddles between here and the camp."

  Her mouth fell open.

  "I've never ridden on one of these."

  Dalton just smiled.

  "There are a lot of things we’ve never done until we do them for the first time. Look, I'll go slow and be real careful. I realize I have some valuable cargo in that bucket and I'm not just talking about Henry."

  Niki blushed. "Well, thank you. I guess I'm riding shotgun then."

  She climbed atop the mattresses and settled in beside Welker. When the bucket rose, she let out a quick yelp and grabbed the sides. Once the tractor turned around and started back toward the camp, Dalton was true to his word, keeping the tractor at a pacesetter crawl and easing through each of the mud holes.

  When the makeshift transport reached the camp, Niki stared at the long, steep staircase, recalling how much they labored with the relatively short accent of the bunker. To her amazement however, Dalton did not lower the bucket containing her Welker to the ground at the foot of the stairs. She felt the bucket rise, and soon they arrived at the top of the steps next to the camp door.

  Dalton jumped out of the tractor and raced up the stairs. He extended a hand to Niki, helping her over the rail. They propped the door open and toted Welker inside, putting him in his own king-size bed. The trip, which was simpler and easier than Niki could have imagined, ended with the old man fast asleep.

  The pair tiptoed into the living room next to the kitchen. After an awkward silence, Dalton broke the stalemate.

  "What next?"

  Niki, absorbed in her own thoughts muttered, "Huh?"

  Dalton leaned back in his chair.

  "Look, I know the you have an obligation to the Welker family, and an obligation to your friend to tell them where Henry is. I won’t stop you or even dissuade you."

  Niki nodded.

  "I have an obligation to Bobby. My friend, John, he's the detective heading up the task force, he told me that my obligation to Bobby ended with Bobby's death. Bobby's wife, which is John's sister told him to let me go."

  “So why are you still investigating the case?” Dalton asked.

  "Because I gave my word that I would find out what happened to Bobby’s father. I won't stop until I do what I promised."

  Dalton looked absently out of the window. After a minute, he turned back to Niki.

  "You fulfilled your promise. You found Henry Welker. You found out someone shot him and left him for dead in the Mississippi River. Now you're free to go to the authorities with what you found."

  Niki nodded. "You're right. That disclosure would be good publicity for my investigating agency. I mean, finding Mr. Welker and you same day while hundreds, if not thousands, are looking for y'all. Who would ever dream of such a scenario? It’s like hitting the lottery."

  Dalton grinned. "You'll be famous. Every TV show, radio host, and newspaper editor in the world will be trying to snag an interview with you. Fox News will probably hire you as an investigative consultant. You fit the profile for their female employees."

  She looked at him with a confused expression.

  He held up his hands.

  "No offense intended. It’s that they seem to find very intelligent, articulate female experts who also happen to be double-takers."

  Another confused look.

  "I see you didn't grow up in the country. A double-taker is a gal you glance at the first time and then she is so stunning you do a long double-take. That's all it means."

  Niki blushed again.

  “Are all politicians born with the gift of gab or is it an acquired talent?”

  Dalton laughed. "Obviously, you haven't seen how many interviews and TV shows I’ve blown because I'm not your typical politician. I tend to say what's on my mind regardless of how stupid it sounds and sometimes, like now, it gets me in trouble."

  She smiled. "In that case, you aren’t in trouble, and I thank you for the compliment."

  "You're welcome," Dalton said. "And I wish you the very best with your newfound success and fame."

  The smile that broke out quickly faded.

  “What will you do?”

  Dalton left again.

  "I think my future is already determined. I'll go to jail as soon as I step off this island."

  Niki remained quiet, poured herself a diet Dr Pepper and a glass of lemonade for Dalton. She set the juice in front of him.

  "Tell me about Juliette. What happened?"

  "Where do you want me to start?"

  She took a sip of cola. "When you found her. Start there."

  Dalton nodded and looked out of the window, vividly recalling every minute of the previous Saturday night as though the scene was playing back in slow motion.

  "We ate dinner at our favorite restaurant, Mike Anderson’s Seafood. She loves the soft shell crabs they serve. Then we surprised her when we went back to her condo. Her parents and a few friends were waiting. As soon as we entered, I got down on my knee and proposed.”

  “I assume she accepted?” Niki asked.

  “No doubt. We love each other. Everyone had a good time.”

  “How did she get killed?” Niki asked.

  “I don’t know exactly. I left after everyone else. Then I discovered that I left my wallet behind. I went back to get it and discovered her dead. My knife was sticking out of her chest, and I immediately knew it was a set-up. Somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to make me look guilty and they did a hell of a job.”

  He stopped and slowly shook his head.

  "I ran from her apartment, and a neighbor saw me in the hallway. I guess she woke up when I started yelling. I drove back to the ranch, gathered a few things, loaded an old bateau and came to Spirit Island. I've been going back to the city every night trying to find out who could have done such a thing."

  Dalton was drained. He sank in his chair ignoring the glass of lemonade. Both were silent, focused on their own thoughts. Niki watched him closely.

  She asked, "Did you find anything that will point you in a particular direction?"

  He laughed. "You mean other than jail?"

  She smiled and nodded.

  "Not really. I don't have any archenemies. Juliette was the easiest person in the world to get along with and she was loved by all."

  Niki disagreed. "At least one of you had one. Murder is not a joking matter. Since you were the target of the frame-up, I guess somebody doesn't like you an awful lot or wish you out of the way for a long, long time."

  Dalto
n considered the lemonade and still did not take a drink.

  “I know this sounds self–aggrandizing, and I don't mean it to be, but I really don't know anyone that hates me."

  Niki sighed. "Did you steal Juliette from someone else? Did she break another guy’s heart when she accepted your proposal?"

  The senator replied, "We’ve been dating for three years. I wanted to ask her before, but she was busy getting her business started. She wanted to establish her modeling career first. She thought it would be easier if she was single."

  “How about your work? Are you involved with anything in the Senate that would push someone to do this?”

  Dalton took a large gulp of the tart yellow liquid.

  "I've been thinking about that since all almost as soon as I got to the island. I'm a junior senator, meaning I don't have any seniority over anyone. Most of my workflow consists of garbage nobody else wants. The only thing different is is that I was doing a routine review of some purchase contracts for the state. The senior senators hate reading those documents."

  He drained the rest of the lemonade.

  "There is only one that seemed to be an anomaly I wanted to investigate further, but I had just begun the study."

  "What was it?"

  "Some highway construction contracts. Most of the bids went to a few companies, at least the lucrative ones. These got changed once the state awarded them. All of them far exceeded the original estimates. They included tons of addenda and alterations that were performed at the contractor's list prices, adding even more costs to already bloated contracts."

  "Were all these contracts awarded by the same person?"

  "Yes, but with our system of bidding, each contractor must send in a sealed bid. All bids are opened by a committee of at least three employees in a public forum. All bids are stamped and initialed by each of the employees. The only constant on the committee is the buyer. The other two positions rotate."

  “So what makes you suspicious?”

  "Just the dollar amounts and the changes for the repetitive winners of those contracts. But the contracts that aren’t so lucrative, those of short duration, and will those with high mobilization costs, other contractors are the winners."

  "What’s the problem?"

  "I'm not sure there is a problem, but this was enough to make me have some questions."

  "Who did you ask?"

  "I sent an informal inquiry to the companies, asking general questions about their corporate structure, a list of their key employees, and a list of the equipment they own. That’s why I’m not sure the investigation has anything to do with my present predicament. It was a very general inquiry."

  "Do you remember the names of the companies you sent the letters?"

  Dalton said, "Not all of them but the irony of this whole mess is that one company belongs to Henry.”

  "Welker Construction?" Niki's voice was barely above a whisper. "Welker Construction was the winner of some of these lucrative contracts?"

  "Yes. But after spending the last few days with Henry, I don't for a minute think he has anything to do with Juliette's death to cover up some irregularity with the bidding procedures."

  "Neither would Bobby," the voice from the hallway startled both Niki and Dalton.

  They jerked around to see Henry Welker standing at the edge of the living room. Dalton leaped from his chair and helped Henry to the recliner and propped him up.

  “Henry, you shouldn't be up and moving around. You'll start bleeding again."

  The old man scowled. “Shut up, and bring me something to drink.”

  Niki rose.

  "Would you like some lemonade or soda?"

  Welker's raspy voice screeched, "What I’d like is the bottle of Jack Daniels Black Label. It's in the cabinet beside the fridge unless somebody stole it."

  Niki started to protest. "I'm not sure—"

  "Listen to me, young lady. I'm glad you found me, but that doesn't mean I have to take orders from you in my own camp. Now give me that drink."

  Niki found the liquor and poured a half a shot, then carried it to Welker.

  The contractor stared at the glass. "You call this a drink?"

  Niki met his gaze.

  "I call that the most you’re going to get right now."

  Welker took a sip of his drink side as settled back in his recliner.

  "Don't let me interrupt your conversation. I only wanted to let you know that neither Bobby nor I had anything to do with your girl's murder."

  Dalton shifted in his chair.

  "I believe you, Henry. I never met Bobby, but also doubt that a son of yours would get involved with a scheme like this."

  Niki looked at both men.

  "Hold on before you award purple hearts and medals of honor."

  Dalton was surprised. "Huh?"

  "Let me guess the other companies that you sent inquiries for your investigation."

  Dalton scoffed, "How in the world would you know anything about my investigation? That's impossible."

  "Just let me guess. If I'm wrong, then I'll be quiet and let you gentlemen continue your discussion."

  Dalton rolled his eyes with a ‘I don't believe you' look.

  "I told you that I don't remember all the names. If you say them, I'll probably recognize most of them."

  Niki closer eyes for a few seconds, reaching into her memory break.

  "You've already given me Welker Construction."

  Dalton chuckled. "You got one right. Good job."

  Welker close his eyes as if trying to shut out what he knew was coming.

  "Another is Dixon Construction. Gary Dixon is the owner."

  Dalton eyes widened. Welker kept his shut.

  "The others are Bush Construction, Louisiana Best Construction, and— The last name is a bit unusual." She snapped her fingers "Auto-Script Construction, that's the last one."

  Dalton's mouth fell open. "How in heaven's name do you know them?"

  Niki smiled. "Not that hard. It’s the list of companies, or rather the owners of those businesses are members of the Spirit Island Hunting Club."

  Dalton almost dropped the glass. He stared at Henry Welker, who opened his eyes and sipped Jack Daniels whiskey.

  "Henry, is that true?"

  Henry nodded and gazed into his glass as though it was a magic charm.

  "Henry, if that is true, wouldn't that raise the specter of collusion?"

  Henry stared at his glass. Niki reached into her backpack and pulled out the list she found in Welker's bedroom. She handed it to Dalton.

  “They have been playing games with the bids, rigging them so they win the most lucrative jobs. Then they split the profits with what appears to be Mr. Welker getting a double share."

  Dalton glared at the elderly contractor. Henry Welker suddenly found a keen interest in the ceiling.

  "If I had to guess, somebody wants to break up the team before you all go to jail. They framed you to stall the investigation until they can get rid of the evidence, Mr. Welker in particular. Whoever replaces you in a special election in a year probably won't be as gungho to find out about these irregularities."

  Dalton remained stunned.

  "Then once the rest of the partners are out of the way, there won't be anything left to investigate or new companies will play the game. It may take several years before your replacement will notice anything unusual."

  Dalton rose and paced.

  "But Henry is the only one they tried to eliminate. Bobby drank too much and died in a car accident."

  The sound of Welker's voice surprised the other two. "No, he didn’t. I've seen Bobby drive when he couldn't walk. He was amazing. I can’t explain it, but Bobby sitting behind the wheel of his truck had a tremendous transforming effect on that kid."

  Dalton stopped pacing.

  “Henry, Bobby was dead drunk. There is no way, from the reports I've heard, that Bobby could safely operate that truck."

  Welker's stood with great effort and hobble
d to the liquor cabinet. He did not bother to fill his glass. He took the whole bottle back of the recliner. He took a long swig directly from the dark bottle. Then he pointed at Dalton.

  "You find his truck. I will guarantee you that somebody tampered with it."

  Dalton lowered his voice.

  “There is no way, Henry. Bobby couldn't have driven a pony on a merry-go-round."

  Welker stared at the liquor bottle, then turned his full attention to Bridgestone.

  "I'll tell you what, Senator. You find that truck and have a mechanic check it out, one that knows the difference between the tailgate and the hood. If there is nothing wrong with it, I'll sign a confession to all the bid-rigging we've done over the last decade. I'll list all the other participants and provide all the records for you."

  "And if you're right?"

  "Then I'll do the same thing, but I want immunity from all prosecution."

  Dalton walked to the refrigerator and refilled his glass of lemonade while considering the offer.

  "I don't know if I'll be in a position to offer you anything. I may have a long-term commitment not of my choice unless I can clear my name. The problem is that I'm severely limited in what I can do. I can't even show my face around his truck without getting myself arrested."

  Welker laughed. "Not to belittle your problem, but if I show my face, whoever tried to kill me may have better luck the next time around."

  Dalton turned and faced Niki.

  "Henry, I think the answer to both of our problems is drinking a diet Dr Pepper."

  Welker shifted his attention to the young investigator.

  "By God, I think you're right. She was already working for Bobby. She found both of us when half the world couldn’t and she put together my foolproof scheme like it was child's play."

  Dalton grinned. "Sounds qualified to me. From what I understand she currently is out of work since she solved the only case she has."

  Niki set down her soda held up both hands.

  "Guys, I got luckier than a sailor in a whorehouse on this job. Dalton, you got careless and let yourself get seen leaving the camp this morning. You led me straight to Mr. Welker."

  Dalton walked over to her put his hand on her shoulder. He gently guided her to a chair.