by Jim Riley
She opted to utilize the country drawl that she was perfecting when he tapped on her window.
"Yes, Suh. Was I speeding?"
"No, ma'am. May I see your driver's license and registration, please?"
She handed the documents to him. He carefully scrutinized them before clipping them to his writing board.
"Where were you going, ma'am?"
She hesitated for a second.
"Back home, of course."
"Where would that be, ma'am?"
"Silly. You're looking at my license. You know I hail from Central. But I ain't been there long. I'm originally from north of Slaughter, right next to the Mississippi border."
The officer had a hard time constraining his laughter. "Yes, ma'am. Where are you coming from?"
"You know something. You're kinda cute. You ain’t asked me for my phone number yet."
"No, ma'am. We aren't allowed to do that. Now where did you say you were coming from?"
Niki batted her long lashes.
"Well, if you ain't able to asked me for my phone number, it is all right to ask you for your’n?"
The officer glanced back at the squad car, knowing the dashboard camera was recording the video and audio.
"It's our policy,” He coughed
She flashed a flirtatious smile.
"Well there, that policy of your’n is gonna keep you from having a great big ol’ time."
"Yes, ma'am."
He glanced at the dash cam again.
"I'm sure you're right. Now, if we can focus for a minute or two, I need to know where you've been."
"Why didn't you ask?"
"Yes, ma'am. I did. Where have you been?"
Niki poked out her bottom lip.
"Party pooper. I'll tell you, but you gotta keep it a secret. It's kinda embarrassing."
"Please just tell me, ma'am."
"Suh, you won't believe me cause, as you can see, I know my way around. I mean, I'm not a country bumpkin or nothing like that."
The officer could no longer contain his mirth.
"No, ma'am. I would never even have imagined that. Now, where were you?"
The detective threw her arms in the air.
"Suh, I was going to LSU to sign up for one of them summer courses. It's one about computers. Do you know there's lots of folks that done gone and got one of them things now?"
The laughter from the cop was even more obvious.
"Yes, ma'am. I recall reading something about that."
"Suh, you ain’t gonna believe how many buildings they got out there. It's so a body can hardly tell one from the other," she paused. "And to make it worse’n, when I stopped to see which one I was supposed to be at, can you believe some of them people actually honked their horns at me? Their mamas would be so ashamed of them. Almost embarrassed me to death."
The policeman quit taking notes.
"Yes, ma'am. I can see where that's possible."
"I ain't through yet."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I got a little confused. I know that's hard for you to believe, but I swear on Mimosa’s grave that it happened. Mimosa was my pet chicken. She died one night, and I cried like a baby. Have you ever had a pet chicken, Suh?"
"No, ma'am. I haven't had the pleasure."
"Well, you should. Now you got me flabbergasted. Where was we again?"
The strawberry-blonde rubbed her hand over her forehead for effect.
The officer coughed to cover his amusement.
"I believe you were telling me you got confused on the LSU campus."
"Yes, Suh. Can you believe that? I tried to get out of that maze. Reminded me of a bunny hole, you know with tunnels going every which direction. But I musta took the wrong tunnel.” She paused for effect. "More than once."
"Did you sign up for the course, ma'am?"
"You got cotton in your ears, Suh? I couldn't find the right dang building. You would think they'd get them a sign or something that says 'computers here', but there ain't nary a sign."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I just set my car to leave, and it got confused too. It didn't have a clue how to get me out of there. So here I end up trying to find my way home."
"Yes, ma'am."
She batted her eyelashes for effect.
"Now, wasn't that simple?"
The cop was at a loss for words. He unclipped her license and registration. As he was handing the documents back to Niki, she glanced in her side mirror. The investigator saw a red Ford F–250 fast approaching. The policeman started to turn at the sound of the heavy-duty diesel engine.
Thinking quickly, Niki fumbled with the officer's hand, taking control of her driver's license. She dropped it down the front of her blouse.
"Oh, my goodness gracious."
Startled, the cop turned back toward the strawberry-blonde and saw Niki staring at her own chest.
"I think we just had an accident, Suh." She looked exasperated. "How am I supposed supposed to get that thing out of there? My chin gets in the way seeing where it went."
She smiled at him, her sky-blue eyes twinkling.
"That and a couple of other things."
She continued to look at the discombobulated policeman and batted her eyelashes one last time. He sadly looked back at the dashboard camera recording the events.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said as the red F–250 passed without notice.
"I've got to go. You be careful on the streets," he sighed.
"Are you sure you don't want to escort me home, Suh?"
The cop closed his eyes for a second.
"No, ma'am. We’re looking for a dangerous fugitive."
He trudged back to his squad car with a forlorn face. Once getting in the vehicle, he slapped the dash cam and cursed.
Friday
Baton Rouge
"Bill, this is Phillip," Kemp spoke into his cell.
"How’s it going?" Bill Swain responded.
"About like a one–legged man in a butt kicking contest. Not a lot of hope."
"I know what you mean," Swain sighed. "I'm getting nervous."
"You're about to have a reason to get a lot more nervous. They just found Oberlin's body in the Mississippi River north of Port Hudson."
"Holy crap," Swain let out. "That means there are only three of us left now."
"Yeah," Kemp replied. "And one of us is a murderer."
"Now hold on," Swain objected.
"Don't get your panties in a wad," Kemp admonished. “I know that I'm not and I'm fairly certain that you aren't."
"I'm with you," Swain said. "That only leaves Wayne."
"Yep," Kemp agreed." He's got to be the one."
"So what do we do?" Swain asked. "That's why I'm calling you. We need a plan."
Kemp could almost hear Swain's brain churning over the phone.
"You got any ideas?" Kemp asked.
"I guess we could go to the police," Swain suggested, "but that will open a huge can of worms and take us places I don't think we're ready to go."
"Agreed."
Swain continued. "We could take him out before he gets us."
"That's definitely a possibility, but I'm not sure I want to go there either," Kemp said quietly.
"It's not the way I prefer, for sure," Swain agreed.
"I'm not sure that I could live with myself if I participated in something like that."
"And I'm sure that you aren't involved with the other deaths," Swain chuckled. "If you can't kill someone to protect your own life, then you can't to stay out of jail."
“But that leaves us with a dilemma," Kemp replied.
"I've given you my ideas. What are yours?"
"We could go talk to him." Kemp coughed. "But we've been talking to him for the past week and now there are a lot of folks in their graves."
"That doesn't leave us many options."
"You're right," Kemp said. "But we have to do something."
Swain considered the situation for a moment. “We could hir
e bodyguards. I don't know how much good they’ll do, but they can't hurt."
"Do you know of any good ones?"
"No, but I have some friends that have used them in the past. I can call them this weekend. That’ll give us a good start."
While on the phone, Kemp pulled out a desk drawer.
"In the meantime I’ll keep my Red Hawk .44 Magnum within hands reach wherever I go. If he comes after me, I’ll be ready for him."
"I usually carry a pistol," Swain responded, "but I left it on Spirit island. However, I've got plenty of rifles and shotguns. I can take care of myself, but I I'd feel a lot better with some security."
"Watch over your shoulder," Kemp responded. "I don't think he’ll try anything this weekend, especially with Bobby's service coming up Sunday, but you never know."
Friday Afternoon
Baton Rouge
"d'Iberville, what the hell happened this morning?"
John d'Iberville shuffled his feet and avoided eye contact with his infuriated superior.
"Come on, man answer me,” Samson Mayeaux roared. “We activated every available unit including the NARC team out there surrounding the campus. We had a positive ID. We had a good description of the vehicle. How could you let him get away like that?"
"Chief, I—er, I wish I could tell you where he is hiding. I still believe he’s on the campus somewhere. There is no way he could have gotten past us."
"Who do you have out there?" Samson demanded.
d'Iberville glanced at his notes.
“Right now, we have nineteen plain–clothes and forty–seven uniformed officers on the campus on foot. They are searching building by building but LSU is a giant complex. We could have five times that many and still not look everyplace he might hide."
"It sounds like you're already making excuses," the huge chief snarled.
"No, sir. I only want you to understand the magnitude of the challenge."
Samson hefted his large body out of the chair and pointed an accusatory finger at the detective.
"What I understand is the magnitude of what will happen to our careers if you don't find this man in a hurry."
"We are doing the best we can, sir," John d'Iberville said.
"Tell me," the chief screamed. "Tell me how you define doing the best you can. I want to hear that."
John again addressed his notes.
"We stopped forty–two white SUVs on or around the campus. We interviewed each of the occupants and searched the vehicles. We found no person even closely resembling Bridgestone."
"What if the kids were wrong? What if the SUV was blue or gray or some other color? Are you positive the kids were straight?"
"They were positive the vehicle was white, sir. The girlfriend confirmed the boy’s story."
d'Iberville again glanced at his notes rather than look at the massive chief of homicide in the eyes.
"The kid told the officer that interviewed him he was positive it was the senator sitting in the vehicle. He wasn't as positive, but almost certain it was a Ford Explorer. However, he said he could be mistaken. The girl could not confirm if it was an Explorer. That's why we were stopping all the white SUVs on and around the campus."
"Did the kid take a picture with this phone?"
"No, sir. He said he got excited and tried to call 911 before the senator could get away and kill somebody else."
"He only wanted the reward," the chief sat back down heavily. "That's the only thing he cared about."
"I can't say that I blame him," d'Iberville smiled. "It was big of the ex-governor to put up a million dollars for the capture or death of Dalton Bridgestone. I'm surprised the kid didn't pull out an Uzi and spray the parking lot."
"That would have solved a lot of our problems, wouldn't it?" The massive chief laughed. "I can't say I blame the governor for wanting to avenge his daughter's murder, no matter how much I have to publicly protest the death part to the media."
"It has raised the awareness level of the citizens," d'Iberville grinned. "A lot of these Cajuns will shoot their mother-in-law for that kind of money."
"Hell. I’d shoot my mother-in-law for nothing," the chief snickered. "But then my wife wouldn't have anybody to complain to when she gets pissed off at me."
"I didn't know you were married, chief."
"I'm not," Samson said. "But I would shoot any of my ex-mother-in-law's for nothing."
"That's why I'm single," d'Iberville shrugged. "I can't fathom the thought of in–laws."
The chief winked at him.
"I heard through the grapevine that you are getting close to Niki. Is that true?"
John knew there were few secrets in a police department. The grapevine flourished more than at a third-grade dance.
"We’re thinking about it. In fact, we're going to the LSU ball game tonight. Who knows? If Bridgestone is still on campus, I might see him at Alex Box Stadium. Then I could shoot him in the right field bleachers."
"You might lose your job you do. We still frown on shooting unarmed suspects, you know."
"I'd still collect that mil and imagine I could find something else to do with my time. Besides Juliette was my cousin. Anybody that would harm her, much less kill her, doesn't deserve the dignity of a trial with all these high-priced lawyers he can afford. They'll probably get him all."
"John, don't take this investigation too personal."
"My whole career hinges on the outcome, chief." d'Iberville covered his mouth. "And if I might be so bold to say it, so does yours."
"But our job is to get him into custody. At that point, we win. It's up to the district attorney to prosecute Bridgestone. It's up to them to be smarter than his lawyers."
"All right, Samson. I'll tell the guys to arrest him instead of shooting him, but it won't surprise me a lot if he resists arrest and has to be subdued."
The giant chief again rose and leaned over the desk, making it almost disappear.
"Make sure when the officers have to subdue him, there aren't any cameras around. We don't want the jury seeing us beating the crap out of him and getting all sympathetic. If that happens, we’ll get blamed and when he walks, my career is in the toilet."
"Yes, sir. We’ll be careful. Do you have everything you need to address the media?"
Samson turned and looked out of the window.
"I don't have Bridgestone. If I had him, it would be a great news conference."
"We're doing our best to make sure that happens."
The detective rose to leave, but the chief motioned for him to sit back down.
"What do I say when they ask me what we will do next?"
d'Iberville was silent for a few seconds.
"Mention that the kid spotted Bridgestone this morning. Play him up to be the hero. Tell them we need more heroes in our community. Tell them we also need the media to keep his picture in front of the people. You know how much the media loves it when we tell them we need them."
Samson Mayeaux did not like playing up to the media. In fact, he hated any exchanges with the whole bunch. In his mind, they were an unnecessary nuisance. If he never talked to another reporter again, it would be too soon. However, he agreed with John that he needed the media in this case.
"I can do on all that, but they’ll still want to know what we're doing."
"Tell them we are following all the leads that come in, and will continue to do so."
"That sounds as lame as a three-legged mule. Do we really have any good leads?"
"Most of them are useless. We get one every other day or so that has some meat on the bone."
"d’Iberville, I deal in BS all day long. I don't need it from you."
"I'm telling the truth, Samson."
"Then give me one lead this still has some meat and I don't mean a three–day–old soy burger."
"This morning we had a call that possibly identified Bridgestone last night. We believe it’s a solid lead given the circumstances he described. We also believe there is a strong possibility t
hat, if it is true, then Bridgestone will return to the same spot again tonight. If he does, we’ll be there waiting for him."
The giant chief marsh's eyebrows.
"Why didn't you tell me this before now?"
"Because I know how many ears listen to this office. Suppose someone overheard this information and leaked it to the media. If they go public with it, then Bridgestone won’t come within ten miles of where they spotted him last night."
The chief raised his massive paws to his mouth while considering the possibility.
"It makes sense to me. What makes you think he will return tonight?"
"Guilt, sir."
"I don't get it."
"The senator feels guilty, and this is a place he can go to relieve some of his guilt," d'Iberville said.
"A church?” the big chief grinned.
d'Iberville gave him a blank expression.
"I'd rather not say. Remember, these walls sprout ears at the wrong times."
The massive chief walked around the desk.
"Keep me updated on how this new lead works out. You said you were going to the ballgame with Niki. Don't you think it would look good if you were there when he is arrested?"
"Yes, sir. If he comes at the same time he did last night, I'll have plenty of time to get there after the game."
d’Iberville exited the office, smiling to himself. He heard a roar from a desk right outside. He saw several guys laughing and pointing at a monitor.
"What's going on, guys?"
One officer glanced up. "You won't believe this, John. Joey Johnson stopped one of the white SUVs this morning and he ran smack dab into a gorgeous country girl. She's awesome and when I say that, I ain't kidding. But the kicker is how she talks. I bet she lives so far in the boonies they have to pipe in sunshine."
"Had a good time, did he?" d'Iberville chuckled.
"Yeah. You need to see this for yourself."
"Sorry. I can't right now. Maybe later." d'Iberville said.
Little did he know that he was about to attend the LSU ballgame with the same gorgeous country girl.