Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  "You've got a lot to learn about business. When you have not one, but two potential clients begging for your services is not time to play Humble Hannah. Now is the time to name your price."

  Niki started to get out of the chair, but Dalton’s hand remained on her shoulder. She settled back.

  "I still have to finish my job for Bobby."

  Welker frowned. "What do you mean? He hired you to find me and you did. Your job is over."

  Niki set her jaw. "No, that's not entirely true. Bobby hired me to find out what happened to you, Mr. Welker. I found out, with a lot of luck, where you were, but I haven’t found out what happened to you. We know you were shot but we don't know who shot you. Until I find the person who tried to kill you, my job isn't over."

  Welker grinned. "What was your deal with Bobby Miss Dupre?"

  Niki stammer before responding. "Your son was very generous. That's one reason I want to complete the job."

  “I thank you for your compliment to Bobby, but that wasn't my question. What were the terms of your deal with Bobby?"

  "He paid me five thousand a day plus expenses."

  Welker grunted. "I’d say he got his money's worth. Will you make the same deal with me?"

  Niki nodded. “I would, Mr. Welker, but I still owe some days to Bobby. He paid me a retainer up front."

  Welker grunted again. “As far as I'm concerned, that contract is over. Besides, I want you to find out who killed Bobby. That wasn't part of the original contract."

  "But, Mr. Welker—"

  “Take some advice from your state senator and take the job," Dalton said. “And I want to hire you to find out who killed Juliette. I'll pay you the same rate as Henry. Since I believe the two cases are related, I don't see any conflict of interest. I believe the same person who took a shot at Henry is the same one who murdered Juliette. Nothing else makes sense."

  Niki took the list back from Dalton.

  "Mr. Welker, that means one of your partners is guilty of murder and he also tried to kill you."

  Welker nodded. "I guess whoever it was got spooked by that inquiry letter. Must've decided to cut all his losses before anybody knew any better." Niki looked at her list. "There is one name on here that has no company affiliation and he also doesn’t appear to be a member of your honey club."

  Before Niki could say the name Welker interrupted.

  "Oberlin Davis, III." He stated "That prick. He doesn't have the balls—er, guts to kill anyone. If he found out about the letters, the only thing he would do is puke and pee on himself. You can scratch him off your list."

  “Why would you pay him if he wasn’t a partner? What was his role in your scheme?"

  Welker was slow to answer.

  Dalton responded, "I can answer that one for you. Davis is the buyer in purchasing for the state that handles all the construction contracts."

  Niki nodded. "The only way for the partnership to control which companies the bids went to was to have someone on the inside. Who better than the buyer who sends them out?"

  Welker took another gulp from the bottle.

  "I hope that greedy little prick spends the rest of his life in jail and gets—just what is coming to him every day."

  Dalton picked up his lemonade, savoring the drink.

  "If he was crucial to your operation, why do you dislike him so much?"

  Welker grunted. "I don't dislike him. I hate his guts, if he has any."

  "Why?" Niki asked.

  "Because he got greedy," Welker replied. "When we first started, he was satisfied with a small cut. Now he demands almost a full share. Just for sending out the bids and telling us which jobs will likely be changed. We do all the work."

  Dalton studied the old contractor.

  "I don't see how it would work without him."

  Welker stared back. "That's what the little prick finally figured out. That's why he got greedy."

  Niki still held the list.

  "If it’s not Davis, which of the other four do you think is capable of murder?"

  Welker pondered the question. He rubbed his stubbly chin.

  "Dixon isn’t much more of a man than Davis. If he had anything to do with this, then he hired it out. He wouldn't do it himself. Another bed wetter."

  Niki nodded. "I can check to see if he has any new associates."

  Welker continued. "Swain is quiet. I'm not sure what he might or might not do. The quiet ones always make me nervous. When they don't talk, it's hard to tell much about them."

  Niki jotted down some notes, not trusting her memory for the small details. Bridgestone also made some notations.

  "He's a possibility?"

  Welker nodded. "Can't rule him out. Now Kemp is perfectly capable of killing anybody. The problem with considering him is that I believe he is the kind of man that would do it face-to-face. He's a real man. He wouldn’t shoot me in the dark like a coward and he wouldn't hide from me. He would have shot me between the eyes with me looking at him. He would also tell me why wanted me dead."

  The long dissertation seemed to tire the old man. He took a tiny sip from the bottle before continuing.

  "But still, he's capable."

  Niki wrote more on her list.

  "That leaves Wayne LaBorde."

  Welker called in his facial expression change.

  "That snake in the grass. I never should have included him in the deal, but he would have made waves if he suddenly lost most of his work. I had to ask him to join, but regretted it ever since."

  Niki forgot to jot down Welker's response. She was taken aback by the venom in his description of LaBorde.

  "It seems the first one I should consider?" She asked.

  "Consider, hell." Welker yelled. "I'd bet anything you have that he is the yellow coward the shot at me and murdered Bobby. That's sneaky filth is a waste of human flesh. The best part of him is still on his mama's mattress."

  Dalton laughed. “Sounds like an interesting crowd you went to do business with, Henry. Real interesting."

  Welker set the bottle on the table beside the recliner.

  "I didn't have a lot of choices. I had to work with other contractors already approved by the state. Also, they had to carry their own weight. I looked for ones that had a track record doing significant business with the department so continued work wouldn't raise any suspicions."

  Niki put her pen down.

  "How did you convince them to join you if you were already doing business?"

  "Money. Simply money," Henry replied. "One thing that you will learn when you get older, Ms. Dupre, is that most men are attached to money, which leads to power. They both lead to man's other weakness."

  Niki shook her head. "You don't have to explain. I can fill in the blanks from there."

  Dalton interrupted, asking Niki. "How will you work this?"

  Niki ran her hand through her long strawberry-blonde strands.

  "I want to start with Bobby's truck. If there is nothing wrong with it, then we may have to take a second look at our theory."

  "You'll find out find it." Welker proclaimed. "I'll guarantee that you'll find something wrong with it."

  Niki nodded. "I can get some help from John, my friend that is heading up the task force."

  Dalton shook his head. "I don't think that is such a good idea, Niki."

  "Why not?"

  "Think about it," he said. "You start asking about Bobby and Juliette, he’ll ask you why you are suddenly interested in them. What do you plan to tell him when he asks?"

  She grimaced. "I see what you mean. I also see a problem trying to do what I need to do without telling him why."

  Welker asked, "When is the service for Bobby?"

  "Sunday at one,” Dalton replied. "It's being held at the Magnolia Oak Baptist Church."

  "Okay." Welker absorbed the information. "Miss Dupre, you can tell your friend, boyfriend I’m guessing, that you are checking out my business partners to find out what happened to me. But to let you know, I will a
ttend the service for Bobby on Sunday. You have until then to find something before I announce to the world that I'm alive."

  That doesn't give me much time, Mr. Welker."

  He ignored her comment.

  "Then after Sunday, I'll ask questions my way. I can assure you that I will get some answers. Those answers may not be admissible in a court of law, but I'll find out who killed Bobby."

  I'll do the best I can." Said Niki.

  “You had better pray, Miss Dupre, that your best is good enough."

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Baton Rouge

  “The truck is right over here, ma'am,” the tow truck operator said. “Nobody has fooled with it since we brought her in.”

  Niki followed the grease-stained man. Right behind her was Wilson Fisher, the state's foremost authority for analysis of vehicle accidents. Niki rued the rate that Fisher demanded, especially on short notice. She resolved that Welker would do the same in her position. Money was not as important to him as it was a week ago.

  When they reached the charred remains of Bobby's truck, Niki groaned.

  “There's not much left of it."

  "No, ma'am," The owner replied. "A fire like that don't leave much. I hope you guys weren’t expecting to get a lot of answers here."

  Fisher stepped in front of Niki.

  "You'd be amazed at the amount of information that can I can get from a total wreck."

  The old man laughed. "The only answer you're going to get is that fire is hot."

  Fisher gave him a knowing smile.

  "Answers are not hard to find. It’s the questions that are tough. If I don't know the right questions to ask, it really won't matter what I find."

  "Okay, Mr. smarty-pants, what questions will you ask?"

  "First," Fisher replied. "Why were there no skid marks mentioned in the accident report?"

  "I can answer that one for you and I ain't gonna charge you nothing. Here's how it is," the operator chuckled. "Because he was drunker than Cooter Brown and passed out."

  Another knowing smile from Fisher.

  "He was sober enough to swirl around three vehicles before he ran into the eighteen-wheeler according to witnesses. That’s why he was in the oncoming lane was after he missed the third one."

  "Oh," the tow operator said in a subdued voice as he took a step back. "Ain’t read no accident report."

  "Second," Wilson Fisher continued. "Why was the seat belt unfastened?"

  “I already told you,” the old man snorted. "He was too drunk."

  Fisher continued to look at the truck.

  "According to his friends cited in the report, they said that no matter how much he had to drink, Bobby always buckled up. When they rode with him, he made them buckle their belts as well. This might have been the one time that is the exception, but that would be a mighty improbable coincidence."

  The old man moved to the rear of the trio, leaving Fisher and Niki next to the truck wreckage. Niki waited while Fisher walked around the heap of bent metal. Then he walked around one more time much slower. Then he turned to Niki.

  "This will take more than a few minutes. You and this gentleman may want to wait in the office."

  She took a step closer to the charred remains.

  "I don't mind waiting here."

  "But I do," he replied without looking at her. "I work much more efficiently when I can concentrate without someone looking over my shoulder."

  The tow operator put an oily hand on her elbow.

  "Come on, Missy," he said. "Me and you can have a nice cold beer while Mr. smarty-pants is wasting his time and your money."

  Niki carefully followed the tow operator back to the office, trying to avoid the pools of muck scattered between rows of twisted metal.

  She was almost through with the second root beer, scanning through an edition of Popular Mechanics. No other magazines were available in the grungy office. She thought wryly that the greasy man in the swivel chair must not be versed in Shakespeare or the Wall Street Journal.

  When she heard the door open, she looked up from the mechanics magazine, expecting to see Wilson Fisher. Her mouth dropped open. John d'Iberville strode into the office. He walked directly to the young investigator.

  "Niki, what in the world are you doing here?" He asked.

  She took another sip of a root beer, trying to gather her wits.

  "Just doing the due diligence for a report to the Welker family. I'm sure they want me to investigate every possibility."

  The cop looked surprised.

  "Possibility? What possibility?"

  "That something malfunctioned on the vehicle. I know that you've heard of vehicles with a stuck accelerator through no fault of the driver. I need to make sure nothing like that happened to Bobby."

  John sat on the cruddy seat beside her.

  “I wish you would have come to me first. The medical examiner has already ruled that his death was a result of driving under the influence. That should be enough for the Welker family."

  Niki put down the magazine.

  "Maybe so, but it isn't good enough for me. I have to be sure."

  John held up his hands. "No problem. Let's discuss your decisions before you spend my sister's money."

  "How is she coping?" Niki asked.

  "It's been hard on her. When she and Bobby married, she imagined them growing old together with lots of kids and grand kids. Now, she's a widow."

  "Please pass my condolences on to her. I only met Bobby yesterday morning, but I feel like I’ve known him for a lot longer."

  "I hope you will come to the services with me Sunday. We'll all miss Bobby more than anyone can imagine."

  "Sunday—? Of course. You never know. I might have a surprise for your sister by Sunday."

  John ignored her hand and glanced out the window. "How long will your guy be?"

  Niki followed his gaze.

  "How did you know that he was my guy?"

  John chuckled. "Let's just say I heard it on the grapevine."

  Niki glared at the tow truck operator, who was totally absorbed, or pretending to be, in last month’s edition of popular mechanics.

  She growled, "I bet I know which vine produced that grape."

  John paid her no attention to her inference.

  "I can't stay. The chief called another meeting this afternoon about Bridgestone. I swear he thinks I can go to the swamp, roll over a log, and the senator will pop out from underneath. I don't know what else I can do."

  Niki's heart sank, realizing she was putting the man she might be in love with through tremendous torment while she kept secrets about the solution to all his problems. She wondered why she was so loyal to a stranger she met only this morning.

  "I'm sure he'll turn up, John. There's only so long that he can hide. When he concludes hiding isn't doing himself any good, he'll walk into the station and give himself up."

  “That would be nice," John said. "It won't help my career were much. Then the chief will ask me why I couldn't find them all this time if he’s still alive. The best thing that could happen to me is for him to turn up dead."

  Niki’s hands went to her mouth. There was not a trace of humor in John's voice. The bare truth was that John was serious. He would rather find Dalton dead than alive. She had never seen this visceral side of her friend before.

  "You don't mean that, do you?" She asked hopefully.

  He stood and walked next to the window. A faraway look settled on his face. Then he turned his focus to her.

  "Of course not. I hope he turns himself in."

  Then he turned back to the window. Without looking at Niki, he asked. "You will send me a copy of your fellow's report, won't you?"

  Niki had to think quickly.

  "Sure. I'll give you a complete report as soon as I put it all together and finalize it."

  He nodded. "Good. We're still going to the ball game Friday night, right? Maybe you can give it to me then."

  Niki had forgotten about
her commitment with all the activities swirling around her.

  "Ballgame? Oh yeah. I wouldn't miss it for the world. What time and where?"

  He took her hand.

  "Why don't I pick you up at five? That will give us a chance to grab a bite at Walk-Ons before the game."

  "Great." She said hoping her voice did not fail. "See you there."

  "It's a date." He said as he walked out of the door.

  Niki watched him leave, then finished the rest of her root beer.

  "Are you all right, Missy?" The truck operator asked.

  Niki had dismissed his presence in her mind. The question startled her.

  "Yes—Oh, yes. I'm fine. I was surprised to meet John here."

  A few minutes later Wilson Fisher entered the dirty office with a big smile.

  "I've got some answers for you," he proclaimed.

  Niki cut her eyes toward the tow truck operator. He dropped all pretense of interest in the magazine. She closed the distance between herself and the accident expert. When he attempted to hand her a piece of paper, she grabbed his elbow and led him toward the door.

  "Let's go somewhere a little more comfortable so we can discuss your report at length."

  "But it's really short," Fisher protested.

  “No matter. I'd rather pay you for the extra time so we can go over it slowly and I can be confident that I understand your conclusions." She pointed at the discarded magazine. "I've learned everything I need to know about the preferred way to tune a diesel engine."

  She almost dragged him out of the office. When they got outside, she motioned for Fisher to follow her in his vehicle. Three blocks away, on Airline Highway, she pulled into the lot of a gourmet coffee shop.

  Once seated inside, she explained.

  "I'm sorry, but I have a feeling that anything you said back there would be public knowledge by the time the nightly news runs."

  Fisher nodded. "I understand. For my business, discretion is of the utmost importance."

  Niki frowned, a new thought popping. "Let me ask you a question related to that."

  "Sure," he replied. "Fire away."

  "If the police call you asking for a copy of the report, will you have to give it to them?"

  Fisher leaned back, running a hand over his chin.