Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  Friday Afternoon

  Baton Rouge

  Niki, having avoided arrest from officer Joey Johnson, weighed the options of how to best spend her time before the date with John. She could go to the medical examiner's office and pick up a copy of the autopsy report for Oberlin Davis, III. She was fairly certain it would reveal few details to help her find the killer. The phone call to the coroner revealed the most probable cause of death was suicide.

  It mattered little that Davis's car was found at a bar in Baton Rouge or that no man, much less one in Davis's condition, could walk that far in the time frame Niki worked out. Also, the two bridges crossing the Mississippi River in Baton Rouge were much closer than the one in St. Francisville.

  Common sense was not always a big factor at the Medical Examiner's Office.

  Then Niki thought about driving to Davis's house and searching his car. She was uncertain if this would be the best time. Mrs. Davis had only received the news of her husband's death hours ago. She would be mourning with friends and family. Niki did not want to disturb the new widow and her time of grief and preferred not to have Uncle Nosy or Cousin Pryer peeking over her shoulder when she examined the vehicle.

  Then she thought about dropping the fingerprint from the seat belt buckle of Bobby's truck and the two bills from the bar to her friend, but the problem was that he worked in the same building as John d'Iberville. She did not want to accidentally run into John and have to explain why she was there to visit with the fingerprint expert.

  She thought about digging through the maze of public records for the state bids and awards of the construction contracts, but felt that she already knew what the conspiracy involved and the names of the participants. Henry Welker provided the names with a list she found at the camp on Spirit Island.

  She finally opted to tail one of the three remaining contractors to see if he would incriminate himself. Her first instinct was to follow Wayne LaBorde. He was at the top of the list of probable killers and she did not like him. She detested and abhorred him. But he was the most intelligent of the three suspects and the least likely to make a mistake.

  Phillip Kemp was not on the same and intellectual level as LaBorde, but Niki felt like he had good instincts and could be even more careful. That left Bill Swain.

  To Niki, Swain was the most vulnerable and therefore the most nervous. Nervous guys tend to make mistakes and Niki needed one of them to make a serious blunder.

  Swain's office took up almost an entire city block. She could not park in one of the spaces provided outside the office and hope to see him exit the building. She positioned the SUV in a grocery store lot two blocks down the street.

  The investigator could not see the building, but could see the street in front of it. She knew the contractor drove a great three-quarter ton Dodge with a Hemi engine. It had running lights on the cab which would help Niki recognize it. She was on the lookout less than thirty minutes when she spotted the pickup pulling out of the lot. To her surprise, Swain turned in her direction and passed in front of the SUV.

  She fell into the flow of traffic, keeping one or two cars between her and Swain at all times. The Dodge headed east on Interstate 12 toward Hammond. It exited at the Livingston ramp and made the short hop to Highway 90.

  They passed a couple of businesses that Niki new: Henderson's auctions and a discount furniture store. She had done business with both in the past. Soon after passing the furniture store, the truck turned north and sped down the parish road. There was no traffic on the road other than Swain and Niki.

  She attempted to balance staying far enough back to avoid detection and to keep contact with the Dodge. Swain stopped where the road was being repaired. Crews were everywhere, some ripping up the old pavement and some preparing the new foundation. Niki stopped as soon as she saw Swain pull over. To her consternation, she saw him glance back in her direction.

  The contractor made no movement that indicated he spotted Niki. Instead, he walked directly to the job foreman. The foreman did most of the talking and nodding vigorously. After fifteen minutes, Swain returned to the Dodge. He made a U-turn and came right past Niki's Ford Explorer. She picked up a newspaper and covered her face. After Swain passed, she turned around the SUV and followed him, although she was too far back to see his vehicle. Not wanting to lose her target, she sped up.

  Coming around the steep curve, she found him. Unfortunately, he was park sideways on the narrow road with no way for her to go around him. Swain stepped out of the Dodge and stood in the middle of the road with his arms folded across his chest. She pulled the SUV to a halt fifty yards away.

  She debated whether to go forward or turn around and go in the other direction. The decision was made for her. When she looked in her rear-view mirror, she saw two white work trucks approaching, one on each side of the road.

  Niki felt her muscles contract. Her mouth went suddenly dry. She reached down to the cup holder, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a long gulp. It didn't help.

  The long-legged detective pulled the .38 revolver from the holster and placed it on her lap. She eased the SUV forward until she was only yards from Swain. She slowly opened the door and stepped out, keeping the open door between herself and the contractor. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the two white trucks stop fifteen yards behind her. A man stepped down from each vehicle. Both held shotguns. Niki longed for one more drink of that thirst-quenching liquid.

  Friday Afternoon

  Livingston Parish

  She lifted the Smith & Wesson revolver so the Swain could see it.

  "So we meet again, Miss Dupre," he said.

  "Looks that way," Niki replied.

  Swain took a two steps forward.

  "What are you doing, Mr. Dupre?"

  "Driving down a public road, Mister Swain. You seem to be blocking a public highway."

  "That I am," he nodded. "I will continue to block it until I get the answers I'm looking for."

  Niki wiggled the revolver. In response, she heard one man behind her chamber a round into a shotgun.

  "I don't have any answers, Mr. Swain. What I am doing on this road is my business and I don't normally share my business with someone blocking my path."

  He smiled and took another step forward.

  "You may want to reconsider your options. Do you know what a concrete grinder is Miss Dupre?"

  "I've never heard of one," she smiled. "But I’ll bet that won't stop you from educating me about one of your toys."

  "We use a concrete grinder to lower our costs. It's very simple, really. We take the concrete slabs from the old road base and use the grinder to chop those big blocks into a fine powder. We can re–use the concrete in the new highway."

  "Wow," Niki chuckled. "I now feel real smart, almost as smart as you. What's your point, Mr. Swain?"

  He turned his palms outward and stressed his hands.

  "My point is that I'd hate for you to have an accident and find yourself in one of those grinders and become part of this highway. Your family would have no idea they were driving over you every time they passed this way."

  Niki grinned, realizing he was unarmed and depending on the two guys behind her for protection.

  "You know what?" Niki said. "That sounds an awful lot like a threat to me."

  "It's not a threat, Miss Dupre. I'm only trying to avoid an accident."

  Niki leveled the revolver and pointed the barrel directly at his chest.

  "The first accident that will happen, Mr. Swain, is that this little gun will go off. It's not a big bullet. But think about that bullet tearing a hole in your chest, ripping that God–loving little heart of years apart, and leaving a hole in your back that you could stick your hand through."

  Niki could see him turn pale as he stumbled a step back.

  "I don't believe you are a killer," Niki continued. "I don't think these two gentlemen with the shotguns want to go on to death row for you no matter how much you're paying them."

  She said
it loud enough for both of the gun-wielding men to hear the words. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the men exchanging nervous looks. She continued to stare as Swain while addressing them.

  "Gentlemen, I suggest you get back in your trucks and returned to the worksite. If you don't have any idea what it will be like behind bars away from your wives and your kids, don't plan on Mr. Swain to help you. He’ll be dead."

  No sound from anyone. Then Niki heard the doors slam to both trucks behind her and the hum of their engines fade as they travel back to the worksite. Niki directed her full attention to Bill Swain.

  "What were you saying?"

  Swain gulped and returned to his Dodge. He stopped after opening the door.

  "You won this one, Miss Dupre. But don't think you’ll be so lucky in the future. You're playing a dangerous game."

  Niki stepped out from behind the SUV.

  "It seems to me, Mr. Swain, you are the one playing a dangerous game. How many of your former playmates are dead or missing?"

  He stuttered, "It's—it's not like that."

  "Wake up and smell the blood. There is plenty of it. If I were you, I'd be real careful."

  Swain jumped in his truck and peeled out toward Baton Rouge. Niki took a deep breath, inhaling precious oxygen. She realized that she had been depriving her body of the much-needed element during the standoff. The investigator went back to the SUV and stared at the empty road in front of her. Deep in her soul, it felt more like an omen than an invitation.

  Friday Night

  Alex Box Stadium

  "These are good," Niki took another spicy morsel of fried alligator into her mouth.

  She and John d'Iberville sat a sky box high above Skip Bertman Field in Alex Box Stadium on the LSU campus. They were waiting for the Tigers to take on the hated Alabama Crimson Tide. Fried oysters, fried crawfish, boudin balls, crab fingers, and alligator prepared in a variety of ways covered the table. Niki looked over the array.

  "We can feed half of the entire homeless population in Baton Rouge. Were you expecting a crowd?”

  "This is a ten-seat box, so when you reserve it, they bring in enough food for ten people."

  "Where are the other eight?"

  "It belongs to the Welkers. They reserve it for the season. Rebecca, Bobby's wife, told me we could use it. The family wasn't in the mood to take in a ballgame with all that has happened."

  Niki glanced at the empty seats, thinking of Bobby’s collision with the semi and Henry sitting back at the camp. The she looked down at the field where the players were taking infield warm-ups. The LSU athletes wore bright purple and gold uniforms.

  “Who will win?"

  "We should,” John replied. "We have better pitching, better hitting, and play better defense. Plus, I like our coach a lot better. He may come across as a goofball, but he knows baseball. I'd rather have him in the dugout and any other college coach in America."

  "It sounds like I need to work myself up on your list," she laughed. "When a baseball coach is ahead of me, I don't know if there is any hope."

  "Different list," he replied "You're the only one on your list. All the other names magically disappeared."

  "I wish I could believe, but you have hardly called me this week."

  John grabbed a handful of crab legs.

  "I tried, but your phone wasn’t in service."

  "Oh yeah. I forgot about the reception on Spirit Island."

  John took a break from eating.

  "Why are you spending so much time out there? It's only a camp. Wouldn’t you be better off utilizing your time at his office or his house?"

  Niki took a fried oyster and bit off half. She chewed slowly looking for the appropriate response.

  "I'll get around to them. I want to make sure I don't miss anything before I leave it."

  "With as much of the week you’ve already spent there, I would think you could have turned over every rock and palmetto bush on the island."

  Niki knew the conversation was headed in a bad direction. She changed topics.

  "Speaking of being tied up, you’re like one of those calves at a rodeo roping contest with this murder investigation."

  "It’s a career changer," he swallowed. "Either for better or worse. Until now, it’s been worse."

  "Until now?" Niki’s eyes widened. "It’s about to change?"

  “I think so," John nodded. "He’s still in town. That much we know for sure. We almost had him this morning."

  Niki froze, an oyster halfway to her mouth. She wondered how much her quasi-boyfriend knew about her morning activities

  "What happened?" she asked innocently.

  "A kid spotted him and who we think his new girlfriend, at a bar off of Burbank. Then he disappeared into thin air."

  Niki ate the oyster.

  "Got clean away, huh? I bet that was a bummer."

  John watched a towering homer run during batting practice.

  "Yep. His luck is about to run out."

  Niki picked up a boudin ball but laid it on her plate without taking a bite.

  "What makes you think that?"

  d'Iberville turned his attention to the strawberry-blonde.

  "He was spotted last night, actually this morning. The guy that saw him is very liable."

  Niki frowned.

  "But you didn’t get him last night, and you spotted him this morning without getting him then. I don't get it."

  The detective looked around the empty sky box.

  "I don't know we should discuss this here."

  Niki followed his gaze, seeing eight empty chairs.

  "What? Do you think all my invisible friends will tell somebody?" She laughed.

  "Nothing like that, smarty-pants. This may be the best chance we’ll ever get to nab the senator, and I don't want to blow it. If I do, I might as well become night security guard at the burger joint. I won’t have much of a future.”

  Niki knew John was not telling everything. She also knew that if she pressed too much, he would clam up. Then she would never know what dangers Dalton Bridgestone might be facing.

  The first pitch began the game. The Tigers took the lead in the bottom of the first inning with a home run by the first baseman. The ball cleared the outfield fence over the board featuring the dates of their many championships.

  "Goodness." Niki said. “How do you get this many people excited about baseball?"

  John, watching the spot where the ball disappeared, replied, "It’s unique to this university. There is no other place like it. There is a passion here like no other.”

  Niki smiled and waited to ask him about the Bridgestone investigation. She got her chance in the bottom of the sixth inning.

  The Alabama nine battled back, scratching and clawing to tie the game again. The home team had the bases loaded with two outs. The big first baseman was again at the plate. A nervous murmur ran through the crowd.

  When Niki glanced over at John, he was watching his cell phone, as though he was expecting a message.

  "Bored?"

  John looked up with a surprised expression.

  "No. Uh, maybe." He muttered.

  Even when the LSU batter delivered a line drive double down the right-field line, he failed to react. Niki took the phone from his hand and placed it on the table.

  "All right. Let's get this out of the way," she demanded. "What's going on?"

  "I’m anxious. That's all."

  "Not good enough. You’ll have to give me better answers than you give the media. Something is bothering you and I want to know what it is."

  "This is something that doesn't involve you. This is police business."

  "Right now, it's my business. I'm trying to enjoy the game with you and your mind is in another galaxy. What gives?"

  John glanced at his cell phone but did not pick it up.

  "I'm expecting news on the investigation. It should be good news."

  "Tell me about it," Niki prodded.

  "I told you we spotted him las
t night."

  She nodded without interrupting him.

  "We expect him to return to the same place tonight."

  Niki’s face contorted but John did not notice.

  "Why? Why would he go back to the same place?"

  "My best guess is guilt. He might feel bad about he did to his fiancée."

  "I still don't get it," Niki said.

  "Someone spotted Bridgestone last night visiting Juliette’s grave. He has been going there every night since the funeral. We think he might go back there tonight. If he does, we’ll be there to pick him up."

  The lump in Niki’s throat was not a piece of fried alligator tail.

  Saturday Morning

  Baton Rouge

  John d'Iberville and two uniformed officers noted the pickup truck as it eased into the cemetery at two in the morning. They hid in a clump of ligustrum about seventy yards from Juliette’s grave.

  John wanted to get closer, but there was no cover in the cemetery between them and the grave other than other tombstones and one live oak tree. If the trio of law enforcement officers had hidden behind one of those, they had to predict from which direction the senator would approach the grave site. If they were wrong, the whole operation would be jeopardized and d'Iberville did not want to explain another failure to Samson.

  The truck eased up next to the path alongside the grave site. It was at the closest spot to the tombstone when it stopped. The driver looked around nervously. When the caretaker spotted Bridgestone the previous night, the moon's reflection had cast a penetrating light throughout the cemetery.

  To John's dismay, clouds shielded the glow of the moon and visibility was extremely limited.

  "You want to get him now?" An officer asked.

  John held up his hand.

  "Not yet. If he spots us now, he'll escape before we can get him."

  The other officer entered the discussion.