Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  Niki considered the consequences, then told the truth.

  "I'm Niki Dupre. I'm a private investigator. Bobby Welker hired me to find out what happened to his father. Since your husband and Mr. Welker does some business together, I thought the disappearances might be somehow linked."

  Carla sank in her chair.

  "Somebody misled you. My husband and the Welkers were competitors. They bid against each other. Gary used to complain about how the old man cheated. There is no way my husband would go into business with those rascals."

  Niki contemplated Mrs. Dixon's comments.

  Either the old woman did not know about partnership or she's one of the best actors in history, Niki thought. That doesn't surprise me, though. Most men try to hide their shenanigans from their wives. They’re afraid of what their wives would say and know the women would not agree with the way they made their money. What is it about men, anyway?

  She refocused on Carla.

  "Let me throw a few names out you and tell me if your husband is in business with any of them.?

  "Okay."

  "Wayne LaBorde."

  "Nope. Another competitor."

  "Bill Swain."

  The gray-haired lady stirred in her chair, getting annoyed.

  "Again, in the same business we are. He bids against us. I've seen these guys a few times when I went to the bid openings with Gary."

  “Phillip Kemp."

  "Same thing."

  "Oberlin Davis, III."

  The gray-haired lady smiled for the first time since Niki entered her home.

  "Mighty fancy name. Sounds British or something. I know that I've never heard Gary mention it."

  Niki stared at her notepad and leaned back in the chair. Carla leaned forward.

  "Somebody is playing a mean trick on you, Niki. If they told you these guys have anything to do with Gary's business, they're wrong. He runs a small tight ship and doesn't believe in partners. He told me one time that he’s never seen a partnership where one partner didn’t screw the other."

  She doesn't realize how true that statement she made is. Evidently, none of the partners of this debacle trusts any of the others. If the other partners are like Gary, they don't trust their wives either.

  "Do you have any idea where Mr. Dixon may have gone?"

  "I don't know," Carla shrugged. "He doesn't have a secret girlfriend on the side if that's what you mean. I know that much for sure. When he started working on weekends, I hired a guy to follow him. The guy told me that Gary was going to some fancy hunting club in the Mississippi River. He knows that I don't approve of killing innocent animals for sport, so he never told me. I never told him I knew."

  "I understand. Do you have any relatives that he my stay with?"

  “I've called my daughters and my son," Carla replied. "They haven’t seen or heard from him. The same goes for his two sisters."

  "Do you have a camp for vacation home? Maybe a time-share?"

  "No," she replied. "We used to have one down by Lake Maurepas, but since Gary's business started doing better, we take our vacations overseas. I love Rome, Paris, and London. Those are our favorites. But Gary won't ever go outside of Louisiana, much less America, without telling me."

  “Can you give me his cell phone number?"

  "Sure," Carla nodded. "I've been trying to call him all day, but he doesn't answer. You're welcome to try."

  "No, ma'am. I don't plan to call him. I have some friends with the telephone company that can see if there has been any recent activity with it."

  Niki had only one friend with one telephone company. She was unsure if he could track down the activity if Dixon used a different service provider, but it was worth a try. Carla gave her the number but the account differed from her friend’s place of business.

  "Thank you for looking for Gary but I have a question."

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "If Bobby Welker hired you to look for his father and Bobby is dead, who are you working for now?"

  "I'm following up for the Welker family, Bobby's wife and brother-in-law. I believe in doing a thorough investigation no matter the circumstances."

  "Oh," Carla said.

  Both women were silent for a brief period then Carla’s eyes opened wide.

  "Can I hire you? I don't know what you charge, but we have money. I’ll pay anything for you to find Gary safe and sound."

  “No, ma'am. You can't hire me. I'm already being paid for this case, and Mr. Dixon has become a part of it. I will do everything possible to find your husband, but there's no need for you to pay."

  "But you're looking for Henry Welker. I want you to look for Gary.”

  "I believe there are ties between your husband and Mr. Welker. I can't disclose my sources, but I know they have a business relationship. If I can find out what happened to one of them, it will lead me to the other one."

  Carla studied the young investigator with piercing eyes.

  "I believe you," she said. The older lady rose from the chair and disappeared into the bedroom without saying anything. Niki squirmed in her chair, anxiously peeking down the hallway and wondering where the gray-haired lady had gone. The investigator was concerned that Carla was so traumatized that she might forget Niki was still in her house.

  After several long minutes, Carla returned. She held her hand out to Niki. A small black contraption similar to one of those old-style beepers sat in the wrinkled palm.

  "Here, take this," she said.

  After Niki took possession of the rectangular device, Carla continued.

  "Gary worked hard all of his life and never made much. A few years ago, when his company started making real money, he bought himself a diamond watch. It was worth more than the house we lived in at the time."

  Carla quit talking, closing her eyes and recalling the past days and years with her husband. Niki remained silent, not interrupting the reminiscent wife. Then Carla opened her eyes.

  "Gary regretted buying it almost as soon as we got home. He was worried that someone would steal it, and all that money would go down the drain. I told him to get a rider on our insurance policy."

  Carla took a quick break, then continued.

  "My cousin is our insurance agent. For some reason, Gary didn't want to tell him about the watch and how much it costs."

  Niki nodded, though she had no idea where this story was going or what, if anything, it had to do with Dixon's disappearance and the black box in her hand.

  Carla continued, "Gary went to one of those security firms. They put a chip in the watch or on the watch. I don't remember. They told Gary that if anyone took the watch, all he had to do was activate that little gizmo and it would lead him right to the watch."

  Niki now realized the significance of the black device.

  "Why didn't you turn it on?" Niki asked.

  "I just thought of it this afternoon. I tried, but it didn't give any signal. Maybe I did something wrong. You try to find his watch. He never takes it off. Sometimes, I think he loves that watch more than me."

  “Why didn't you give the device to the police?"

  "I only thought of it a few hours ago and they were so rude when I called, I don't want to talk to them again."

  "Do you know the range, the distance that the chip is effective? How close do I need to be?"

  "That is one of the things that Gary gripes about. He says for the money paid he should be able to find it for over ten miles."

  "Ten miles is an awful long way for chip. Are you sure that’s what he said?"

  Carla was animated.

  "Yes. He said it was the best and strongest one on the market. That's what the salesman told him. That's why he charged Gary so much money."

  "I'll take it with me and hopefully find Mr. Dixon with it. This should help us a lot."

  "Bless you, my child. I believe the good Lord sent you here to help me. May He be with you while you look for Gary."

  Niki felt a tear well up. She stepped forward and held the trembl
ing lady. After a long embrace, she stepped back. When walking to the door, another thought hit her. She stopped.

  "You didn't tell me the name of the bar that Mr. Dixon went to this afternoon."

  Carla started crying.

  "He never told me. He didn't want me showing up and embarrassing him. I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now."

  Wednesday Night

  Spirit Island

  "What did you find out?" Dalton asked Niki as soon as she entered the camp.

  "I missed you too," Niki laughed, "and I'm also glad that you’re safe."

  "I'm sorry," Dalton apologized. "It's just that being cooped up on this island and not being able to do anything is tearing my guts out."

  "I can understand your frustration, but I don't see any other alternative right now. Where is Mr. Welker?"

  "I'm right here." Welker's raspy voice came from the hallway.

  "Good."

  Niki deposited her gear on a chair.

  "Let me get a glass of water and tell you what I know. At least with both of you here, I won't have to repeat myself."

  Niki relayed the essential facts about the visit to the tow truck shop, eavesdropping on the partners at Sammy's, and her visit to the Dixon home. When she finished, Welker slapped his knee.

  "I told you somebody killed Bobby. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones."

  "I guess you were right," Dalton supported his new friend. "One of your partners is eliminating any potential witnesses. From the looks of things, he is doing a mighty fine job."

  Welker thought for a moment before responding.

  "I don't know how to ask this without being rude, so I'll just be rude."

  He stared at Dalton.

  "You've been disappearing every night at the same time Bobby was killed and Dixon went missing. How do I know you aren’t responsible?"

  Dalton diverted his gaze to Niki and then back to Welker.

  "Think about it for a minute. Why would I go to all the trouble of saving you if I tried to kill you? What would I have to gain by killing Bobby and Dick?"

  "Who said Dixon is dead?" Welker asked.

  "I did," Dalton replied. "It is time to face reality. One of your former partners tried to kill you, murder Bobby, and I’m almost certain killed Dixon. Nothing else makes sense."

  “Why couldn't it be something else? Why does it have to be about our operation?"

  Dalton laughed derisively.

  "Because it started Saturday when someone stabbed Juliette to death and framed me for the murder. I have no other connection to you, Bobby, and Dixon. It has to result from the inquiry letter I sent. Somebody got spooked."

  Welker and Niki got quiet, each in their own private thoughts.

  Dalton continued. "Look, Henry. I'm sorry my letter caused all these problems. You're alive with a future. I'm staring death row in the face. Do you really think, after spending the last three days with me, that I could stoop to killing my fiancée, your son, and Dixon? And for what end? I have nothing to gain and everything to lose in this deal."

  Welker nodded slowly.

  "I guess you're right, Dalton. It doesn't make any sense. But if it ain't you, then it's got to be one of those rotten assholes in our operation. I hope I get the chance to get my hands on whichever one it is before he goes to jail. I'll save the state a bunch of money."

  "Mr. Welker," Niki began. "I believe there has been enough killing already. I can't tell you that I know how it feels to lose a son. I have no children yet. I know killing someone else won’t bring Bobby back and will cause a lot of grief for your loved ones. You still have a daughter-in-law to think about. If you are in prison and Bobby is gone, who will run the companies for her?"

  "I don't think you understand, Miss Dupre," Welker snorted. "I don't have anything to lose no matter what happens. I'm going to jail for the rest of my life. I'll never outlive a sentence to Angola."

  "But Dalton said if we can prove that Bobby’s death was not an accident, he will try to get you immunity to testify against the rest of them."

  Dalton raised both hands high in the air.

  "I said I would try if I was in a position to do so. I think Henry might be looking at his future cellmate Angola if I'm lucky enough to escape death row."

  "Isn't that why you hired me?" Niki blustered. "No offense."

  Dalton stepped toward her.

  "You aren't the most experienced investigator for murders in Baton Rouge. This is becoming a murder case. You might be in a little over your head."

  Niki was silent, her face growing red.

  "I think you are underestimating Miss Dupre, Dalton," Welker responded. "She found us when nobody else could. She's already found out that Dixon is probably dead and buried, somewhere where no one will ever find him. And my last point. As far as I can tell, she's the only investigator in the room. You're not in a position to interview new applicants for the job. Neither am I."

  Dalton dropped his head.

  "I'm sorry Niki. Like I said, I feel cooped up here and I'm frustrated but I shouldn’t be taking that out on you. I hope you will accept my apology."

  Niki said nothing, creating an awkward silence. Dalton, after eyeing the young investigator, broke the quiet.

  "So what do we do next?"

  "You stay here with Mr. Welker," Niki said, "and don't leave this island. Understand?"

  Dalton nodded. "And you?"

  Niki returned his steady gaze.

  "I’ll do my best to find the killer and clear your names." She paused. "And try to stay alive in the process."

  Wednesday Night

  Spirit Island

  Niki tossed and turned all night, the events of the hectic day marching nonstop through her mind. Vivid images filled the few intervals that she dozed. One caused angst in the investigator.

  A man charged at her down the ATV trail on Spirit Island. No matter how fast she ran, he kept closing the distance between them. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw an evil sneer on a familiar face. Niki recognized the face in her dream, but then blocked it out.

  She sloshed through puddle after puddle, but got nowhere. Then she felt the hot searing lead ripped through her shoulder. She stumbled from the impact of the bullet and fell. The iron-like smell of her own blood filled her nostrils.

  Footsteps approached. She looked up and saw that familiar face once again. But her focus was on the revolver held in the man's hand, pointed straight between her eyes.

  "Goodbye, darling," the man said.

  He cocked the hammer and placed the cold barrel against her forehead. Then all she could see were bright lights.

  "Are you okay?" She heard the voice say.

  "Huh—? What—?" That was all she could manage in her confused state. She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. Dalton Bridgestone sat on the edge of her bed, a concerned look crossing his face.

  "Are you okay?" he repeated.

  "Yeah—I mean, yes. I'm all right. Just having a bad dream, I guess."

  She set up, pulling the covers over her.

  "I heard you," he said. "I’d say it was more than a bad dream. Sounded like a nightmare to me."

  She wiped her eyes.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

  "No problem." He replied. "I'll have plenty of time to catch up on my sleep if you can’t clear me. I need you to be fit and sharp, so I don't mind a bit. Can I get you some milk or water?"

  Niki pulled the covers tighter.

  "No. I only need rest."

  "I'll leave you alone then," he grinned. "If you need to talk, I'm only one bedroom over. I may not have much good advice, but I still have two good ears. I'm willing to lend them to you if you need them."

  "Most guys I know want to loan me a body part," Niki giggled. "But it's not their ears."

  “Sorry, but that's all I can offer you right now. If you decide to change your mind on the milk or water, let me know."

  He left the room. Niki closed her eyes for a
second, then opened them again. She did not want to risk seeing the man with the evil sneer again in her sleep.

  Thursday Morning

  Spirit Island

  Dalton greeted her with a cup of Community Coffee and a buttermilk biscuit lathered with butter and grape jelly.

  "Now this is a surprise," she exclaimed.

  "Can't have you out there chasing the bad guys on an empty stomach. I've got an extra biscuit wrapped up to take with you for a mid-morning snack. You never know where you'll end up, and you might need it."

  "Juliette was a lucky lady," Niki said.

  "No. I was the lucky one," his smile froze. "You never met her, but she was an extraordinary human being. I've never met anyone like her in my life. I doubt if I ever will."

  "Sorry," Niki said. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

  "All of my memories of Juliette are good ones. We had our whole future planned. Then—" His voice trailed off.

  Niki grabbed the coffee and the two biscuits.

  "Thanks. Is there anything I can pick up for you while I'm out?"

  “Sure," he laughed. "How about picking up a murderer?"

  She smiled as she left the camp.

  “That's a tall order but I’ll do my best I can. Would you like to have him gift wrapped?"

  Thursday Morning

  Baton Rouge

  Niki started the day by going north to St. Francisville. She pulled into the parking lot at Sonny's pizza and turned on the GPS device. It gave no indication that Gary Dixon's watch was within ten miles of St. Francisville. From there, she crossed the newest Mississippi River bridge to New Roads. During the drive, she kept the GPS black box on, but received no signal. From New Roads, she followed Highway one south to Port Allen. She traveled a little farther south to Brusly.

  After receiving no signal there, she crossed the wide bridge in Baton Rouge and followed Interstate 10 to Gonzalez. This booming city was almost halfway between the state capitol and New Orleans.