Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  "Of course," he paused. "As soon as they show me a subpoena. If they want to know what I found, they can hire me."

  Niki's eyes widened. "Would they do that?"

  He chuckled. "Not likely. The FBI or the CIA maybe, but the locals are too cheap to put me on the payroll. I think you're safe. No judge will authorize a subpoena unless he knows something I don't know."

  Niki wondered if her fear showed on her face.

  "You haven't told me what is in the report yet."

  Fisher show the paper on the table in front of the young investigator. “You know something. On that I would bet."

  "Why do you say that?"

  “If there was nothing in the report that contradicted the official findings, we would already have had this conversation back at that awful office."

  Her hopes brightened. "What's in it?"

  "Two things that stand out," he answered. "First, somebody cut his brake line. There is no way Mr. Welker could have stopped that truck, whether he was drunk or sober. My conclusion is that is why he was passing those other vehicles."

  "And?" Niki asked when he paused again.

  "There is a fingerprint that doesn't match the set you gave me, purportedly to be those of Mr. Welker."

  "Where did you find it?"

  "That is why it is important. Also very interesting. It was on the push button of the seat belt mechanism."

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Zachary

  Given the late hour of the afternoon, Niki decided the best plan was to follow one of the partners. Since Wayne LaBorde was vehemently singled out by Henry Welker as being the most capable of murder, she decided to find out what he might be up to on this tranquil Wednesday evening.

  She found his home with no problem in the upscale golfing community in Zachary, only ten minutes north of Baton Rouge. Luckily for the investigator, the LaBorde residence was located a few blocks down the street from the Copper Mill clubhouse.

  From the edge of its parking lot, Niki watched Wayne enter his driveway and pull his Lexus SUV into a triple garage a little after six PM. Only a few minutes later, she saw the expensive SUV leave the garage and turn toward Highway 64. Niki worried that she might lose him in traffic, but her concerns were unwarranted.

  In less than three minutes, LaBorde steered the Lexus into the parking lot of Sammy's Grill, a popular seafood and hamburger restaurant with the locals. She followed the contractor into the eatery and watched the hostess escort him into a private dining area just beyond the restrooms.

  Niki indicated to the hostess that she would eat alone and sat at a table with a good view of the door to the private dining room. Before she could order an appetizer, she watched Phillip Kemp enter the same room. While giving the waitress or order, she noticed another man follow Kemp. Trying not to be too obvious, she looked at him closely, but did not recognize the man.

  She wondered if the last man was Oberlin Davis, III. She had no photograph of him as she did the other conspirators in the bid-rigging scheme. If so, she realized this was a meeting of the coalition that defrauded the state of Louisiana.

  Niki ate the fried bits of alligator tail and ordered a small platter of fried catfish for the entrée. Seeing no one else move toward the room, she yearned to get closer. She inched toward the lady’s room, passed it up, and leaned against a private door, pressing her ear hard on the wood.

  She heard one man say, "He's missing. I tell you, he is missing. I tried to reach him at his house, his office, his email account, and a cell. Gary is gone just like Henry. I'm getting nervous."

  Another replied, "Calm down, Phillip. Maybe he took a few days off to consider everything that happened this week."

  A third voice, presumably belonging to Davis, was barely audible. "How do you explain all of this, Wayne?"

  Inside the room, LaBorde remained calm. "Something strange is happening, for sure. I'm not in a position to explain all of it but we need to hang together. At this stage, we can't start jumping on each other."

  "A little late for that advice, don't you think?" Kemp replied open. "Somebody seems to be jumping on all of us and doing a good job of it."

  "Look." LaBorde said in a reassuring voice. "That silly letter from Bridgestone got somebody spooked. To me, it’s an inconvenience. We can answer the silly-ass request with a bunch of gobbledygook that it politician will never understand if he launches six committees. Then we go on with our business."

  "The senator is in more trouble us," Kemp said "I guess the upside for him as that there isn't someone out there trying to kill him."

  "I might disagree with you," LaBorde chuckled. "It seems to me that the state of Louisiana is doing its best to put him on death row at Angola. I may go watch that one. It's only about thirty miles from here."

  "Not me," Davis his. "I've never had much stomach for the death penalty. But you know we could all end up in Angola."

  “Don't even think of things like that," LaBorde chided the buyer. "It’s that kind of thinking that has one of us spooked."

  Kemp spoke next.

  "Which gets to the point, doesn't it? One of us is a murderer. I know it's not me, so that narrows down the possibilities."

  Davis sounded like he was about to cry. "You guys know I could never kill anyone. So it has to be one of you."

  LaBorde laughed out loud.

  "If I'm to believe what I'm hearing, then either Swain or I are out there murdering our associates. I know that I'm not doing it, and I don't think Bill is."

  Kemp's voice was stern. "Wayne, if that is true, how do you explain all these killings?"

  "As far as I know, there hasn’t been any killings. Henry is missing. Bobby had too much to drink. I think Gary is scared to death and is hiding somewhere. If that is all true, and I firmly believe it is, then we’re making a mountain out of a mole hill."

  Kemp sighed audibly. "God, I hope you're right."

  Niki was getting uncomfortable standing in one position for so long. She quietly shifted her feet and put her ear back against the door.

  WHAM!

  A powerful arm on her shoulder slammed the slim detective through the door and into the private room. Her balance unsteady, Niki took a few steps before she regained her stability. She looked up to see three men gasping, their mouths wide open. The tall man she identified as Bill Swain pushed her farther into the room.

  "I found this little bitch eavesdropping on your conversation, gentleman," Swain said.

  All three glared at Niki, whose knees threatened to fail her.

  "Who are you and what the hell are you doing listening in on our meeting?" LaBorde demanded in a stifled scream.

  "Me?" Niki asked, trying to get her mind back into focus.

  "Who the hell else do you see in this room that wasn't invited to participate in our conversation?"

  LaBorde took a menacing step toward the investigator.

  "Uh— I'm Sarah Sue Easterbrook." She said in a country drawl that Willie Nelson would be proud of. "I'm from Slaughter and I don't get a chance to come to the big cities very much."

  "What are you doing here, Sarah Sue Easterbrook from Slaughter?" LaBorde's voice did not soften.

  “Oh, Suh," Niki said using a nasal twang. “Like I was telling y'all, I don't get to come to this here city often enough. My daddy, he says it’s full of heathens and sinners that's going to lead a gal like me to do terrible things, just terrible. He won't tolerate none of that in his house."

  "So what brings you to our big city, Sarah Sue?"

  "You see, I won this here contest. You know, I never won nothing, so when I found out I won this contest, I nearly peed in my pants. Yes, suh. Nearly wet myself in front of everybody. They give me a free meal at this highfalutin restaurant."

  "Why were you listening at the door?"

  Niki batted her eyelids.

  "My daddy, he told me that in these la-DE-dah restaurants like this one, there would be card games in private rooms in the back of them. Ain't never seen hunnerts of d
ollars before at one time."

  LaBorde laughed. "What makes you think that we would be playing cards back here?"

  "Well, suh," Niki drawled, her confidence growing. "I seen all you fancy gentleman's in them fancy clothes going back here and shut the door. I figured you was doing something that you don't want nobody to see. Daddy told me about them card games, I figured I had to come back here and see if it was true. Besides that, I had to pee and the door to the indoor plumbing is right out there.” Niki pointed at the hallway. "I figured I could knock out two birds with one rock."

  "Miss Easterbrook," LaBorde said. "As you can see, we aren't playing cards. We're merely having a friendly meeting trying to decide what to buy our wives for Easter. You need to be more careful about listening in on other folks’ conversations. It can get you into a heap of trouble."

  Niki's shrugged and batted her lashes once more.

  "You fellows don't know where I could see one of them big-time card games, do you? It’d really tickle me pink to see one of ‘em."

  "No, I don't, Sarah Sue," LaBorde said gently. "But we need to get back to our meeting. If you will excuse us?"

  Niki's face went blank.

  “Why? Did you fart?" She deadpanned.

  The men laughed.

  "No." LaBorde said. "We need to be alone, so you need to get back to that meal you won before it gets cold."

  Niki put her hand to her mouth.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry. Whenever Daddy says he's sorry, that means he either burped our farted. I didn't hear no burp."

  She walked to the door, but turned before exiting.

  "If y'all change your minds and decide to play some cards, will ya come get me so I can watch? I promise I won't tell Daddy."

  "We will, Sarah Sue," LaBorde grabbed her arm and twisted her toward the hallway. "Now, if you will return to your table, we’ll get back to our meeting."

  She looked over her shoulder. "I sure hope I get to see you all again when I get back to the city."

  "Us too, Sarah Sue," Wayne said,

  Niki walked out of the room, dropped to twenty-dollar bills on the table as she passed, and confidently walked out of the restaurant door.

  Wednesday Night

  Zachary

  The three original men in the private room welcomed Bill Swain to their meeting.

  "Good thing you came alone, Bill," LaBorde said. "That little filly might have heard something she shouldn’t if you hadn't showed up when you did."

  "He just wanted to put his hands on a fine ass," Kemp chortled. "I bet it's been a while since he’s grabbed a female that firm."

  "Where I put my hands is my business and nobody else's," Swain snarled. "Especially my wife's."

  Then he smiled. "But I have to admit, she is a looker."

  "Some country bumpkin will get hold of that and won't have a clue what he's got." Kemp slowly shook his head.

  "She might kill him on their wedding night," LaBorde grinned. "He's never had a ride on wild bronco like the ride he’s gonna to get on that filly."

  "Makes me wish I still rode bucking broncos in the rodeo," Kemp looked at the ceiling imagining the visual. "I could see myself poking my spurs in her."

  "As old as you are," Swain poked Kemp in his ribs, "your spurs are the only things that you'd be poking in her."

  "I don't know," Kemp continued to smile. "With the right motivation, anything is possible."

  "Gentlemen, can we get back to business?" LaBorde, now relaxed, said. "As pleasant as this country bumpkin might be, she isn’t the reason we're here tonight."

  "She's a lot more fun to think about that our business." Kemp smiled. "I wish she was my business."

  "But she's not," LaBorde replied. He turned to Bill Swain. "Now before you got here, there were a lot of insinuations flying around the table that one of us might be up to some dastardly deeds."

  Swain settled in his chair before responding.

  “I've had a few of those thoughts myself. Either we’re the unluckiest bunch in the world or someone isn't playing by the rules."

  "The only thing that we know so far is Bobby killed himself after drinking too much," LaBorde said. "We don't know what happened to Henry and Gary. We can speculate all night but we still won't know."

  "Putting Gary aside for the moment," Swain nodded. "I wouldn't put it past Bobby's pretty little wife to do him and Henry in. That way, she gets both inheritances since Henry's wife is already dead."

  "You know," LaBorde rubbed his temples to relieve the pressure. "You might be on to something. I never liked her and I sure as hell don't trust her. What happens if she gets control of Henry's company and Bobby's company? Do we invite her to be a partner?"

  "How much does she know?" Kemp asked. “I have no idea what all Bobby told her. I sure ain't told my wife what we’re doing. Then be like broadcasting it on CNN. Of course, with their ratings now, she might have a bigger audience."

  "I figure that if my wife finds out about my business, I won't have a business," Wayne nodded. "That woman talks a hundred miles an hour with gusts up to two hundred. I swear, her mouth puts out more hot air than a space heater."

  LaBorde grinned. "I'm in the same boat as you two. How about you, Oberlin?"

  Davis, who had been quiet the whole time Niki was in the room, jerked his head up as though he had been deep in thought until he heard his name.

  "Huh?"

  "Have you had any discussions with your wife?" LaBorde repeated. “What have you told her about our business dealings?"

  Davis vigorously shook his head.

  “Heavens, no. I wouldn’t dare tell a soul about my involvement, especially not my wife."

  “Oberlin, you make me nervous," LaBorde considered the state employee. "You're about as edgy as Dixon was before he disappeared. You're not thinking about doing something stupid, are you?"

  Davis's hands shook beyond control.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, are you thinking about doing something, telling somebody something that could put us all in jail?"

  "Goodness, no," Davis whined. "I told you I’ll never tell anyone. What good would it do me? I'm just as guilty as any of you."

  "Speaking of wives, mine is expecting me to get home tonight," Kemp said. "Can we wrap this up?"

  LaBorde fiddled with his glass before speaking.

  "I recommend that we don't talk to Bobby's wife just yet. If she knows something or comes to us to get in on the deal, then we’re better positioned if she makes the first move. All agree?"

  The other men nodded.

  "One other thing before we go,? LaBorde held up his hand. "Bobby hired a private investigator to find out what happened to Henry. I don't know who it is yet. Have any of you heard anything from him?"

  "I figured that once Bobby killed hisself, the investigator took the money and ran. That's what I would have done." Swain said.

  "You're probably right" LaBorde agreed. "I just hate loose ends."

  Swain stood slowly gazed around the room.

  "Looks like at least one of us doesn't like them at all."

  Wednesday Night

  Denham Springs

  When Niki reached her white Ford Explorer, she took a few minutes to settle down. Since it was still fairly early, she decided to pay Gary Dixon a visit. She pulled up at his address listed on the laptop and entered it into the GPS system of her truck.

  The drive to Denham Springs from Zachary brought her through her own community of Central. She stopped by the condominium and picked up a few items, deciding she would spend the night on Spirit Island. The SUV's navigation system directed her to the posh gated community off Pete's Highway.

  She told the guard at the gate she had an appointment with Mr. Dixon. He went back to the small enclosure and picked up the phone. Niki assumed her ruse would be exposed and looked for a place to turn around and leave.

  To her surprise, the gate slid open, and the guard waved her through. When she pulled into the Dixon driveway, a plump g
ray-haired woman met the slim detective. Niki guess the lady was in her late fifties.

  Before she could get out of the SUV, the woman rushed to the automobile door.

  "Do you know where Gary is? The guard said you had an appointment with him."

  "Are you Mrs. Dixon?" Niki asked.

  The overweight woman nodded. "I'm Carla. Where is he?"

  Niki exited the SUV and put her hand on the tense lady’s shoulder.

  "That's what I'm here to find out. One of Mr. Dixon's friends asked me to help you find him." Niki lied.

  "Come on in."

  The lady motioned and turned to go inside. When she closed the door, Niki saw all the trimmings of someone that made it big time. Art here. Statuettes there. Marble everywhere. Whatever anyone could say about the Dixons, they could not say the couple spared any expenses on home furnishings and decor.

  Carla Dixon motion for the investigator to sit in a brown leather love seat.

  "When did you last see your husband?" Niki inquired.

  "Yesterday morning before he went to work. I got up to get some coffee just as he was walking out the door."

  "When did you last talk to him?"

  "Yesterday afternoon. He called to tell me he was stopping for a drink before coming home. He told me not to wait for him for dinner. That he might be late."

  "Was that unusual for him?"

  "He normally likes to drink at home," she nodded. "He doesn't handle the booze very well, and it sometimes embarrasses him. So he gets drunk here where only I can see him."

  "You haven't heard from him since?" Niki asked.

  Mrs. Dixon shook her head.

  "Nope. Not a word. I called the police this morning, and they said there wasn't anything they could do. They said to call back if he doesn't show up and the next seventy-two hours."

  "Has Mr. Dixon done this before? I mean, leave you alone like this without telling you where he is or when he'll be back?"

  Carla shook her head.

  "Never. If Gary is anything, he is thoughtful. Just like telling me he was stopping to have a drink. How many husbands bother to call anymore? You haven't told me your name."