by Jim Riley
"What about me?" LaBorde asked.
"Come into my office Monday morning and we’ll start preparing our story for the defense. One more thing."
"What?" The contractor inquired.
"Bring your checkbook."
Saturday
Spirit Island
Niki blew out a tired breath. She trudged up the steps of the camp. Her body was there, but her mind was miles away. The blood at the Swain Ranch brought the stark reality crashing into her thought process. Doubts and concerns clouded her ability to sort things in a logical order. They overshadowed the progress she was making toward solving the case.
When she opened the door, she saw Henry standing and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Good morning," she said, trying to sound upbeat.
"It sure is," he replied. "I feel like a new man."
"Great," Niki replied. "Does this mean you're going to the service tomorrow?"
"I am. Bobby was my son. I ain't gonna let some night-shooting coward keep me from saying goodbye to him. It'll be my last chance to see my boy."
"You realize that you're putting yourself in danger, don't you?"
Welker nodded.
"Yep. That's the plan, anyway."
"The plan?"
Niki reached for a cup. She hoped some strong caffeine might clear her mind.
"I think I have a plan, at least the beginning of one." Walker sat in the recliner.
Niki took her coffee and sat in the chair next to him.
"So, what's your plan, Mr. Welker?"
He took a sip. He got up, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and topped off his cup. After another sip, he sighed.
"That's more like it. Where were we?"
Niki thought about spiking her cup, but resisted the urge.
"You were about to tell me about a plan you came up with."
"Oh, yeah."
He paused and rubbed his temple with his free hand.
"I'm tired of hiding. I want to draw the scumbag out into the open."
"How do you plan to do that?"
"There are three of them left. LaBorde, Kemp, and Swain. Right?"
Niki remembered the blood.
"Only two. I just came from the Swain Ranch. Somebody killed him last night."
The images flooded her consciousness.
"It wasn't pretty. The killer cut his throat open."
Welker grimly considered this news.
"That means it has to be LaBorde or Kemp that shot me and killed Bobby. Not a big list."
Niki considered whether to tell him what she was thinking. She blurted it out before she could change her mind.
"There might be one other possibility."
"Who?" Welker asked.
"I think she is talking about me," the voice came from the hallway.
Welker and Niki tensed at the site of Dalton Bridgestone.
"Huh?" Welker uttered.
Dalton calmly walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. Niki and Welker remained silent.
"Am I right?" the senator asked. "You were talking about me, weren't you?"
Niki nodded, but said nothing.
Welker sat up in his chair. "How in the world did you come up with an idea like that?"
Niki stared at Dalton.
The young politician spoke. "Tell Henry how you have concluded that I am a killer. I’d like to hear it myself. This should be interesting."
She looked at Bridgestone, then shifted her gaze to Welker.
"Mr. Henry, have you not noticed the unusual timing of the deaths of your former partners?"
Welker did not at first make the connection.
"I don't understand. They were all killed at night, but I guess that's when the vast majority of murders happen, while it’s dark. I see nothing unusual about that."
The investigator turned to Dalton.
"That's not what I meant."
When Welker did not respond and Bridgestone walked back to the room with a cup of coffee, Niki continued. "This is hard."
Welker gave her a fatherly smile. "Spit it out, girl. It’s sticking in your craw so you might as well get it out."
Bridgestone sat on the sofa.
"I too want to hear what is on your mind. Please, don't let my presence stop you."
Niki hesitated, then focused directly on Bridgestone.
"You have been in Baton Rouge every time somebody was killed or disappeared. Isn't that right?"
Dalton nodded.
"Me and half a million other people, if you don't include the population of the surrounding parishes."
She continued to stare at him.
"But all of them don’t have a connection to this case. They don't have a connection to Juliette."
At the mention of his former fiancée's name, the senator winced noticeably.
He responded, his voice low and subdued.
"I wouldn’t kill anyone, no matter what. I could not have harmed Juliette. I loved her. I still love her. I would give up everything I have to get her back. I'd give up my life to touch her one more time and hear her voice."
Tears formed around his eyes, but Niki remained unconvinced.
"That's why I suspect you have something to do with this whole thing."
Dalton wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
"I don't understand. I loved her. I still love her. I hope you believe that I could do nothing to hurt Juliette."
Niki agreed. "I don't doubt for a second that you loved her. I believe she was entirely devoted to you and I believe you were entirely devoted to her. That is the only way any of this makes any sense."
Dalton stared at her.
Welker could not discern her thoughts.
"Girl, you may make sense to him, but you're speaking Latin or Russian to me. I'm not following you at all."
Niki set the coffee cup on the table.
"It's not that hard. Mr. Dalton's fiancée was killed Saturday night. When he found her in the condo, he immediately knew it was a frame-up. Somebody wanted him blamed for her death."
Welker still did not grasp her theory, but remained quiet, shifting his gaze between Niki and Dalton.
Niki continued. "Who would want to frame him for the murder? The only controversy was the thing he was working on was on this bid–rigging scheme of you and your partners. It would not have been hard for him to add two plus two."
She paused, getting no response from either man. The investigator pressed forward.
"He did not know which of you was responsible for Juliette's death, but he was—he is certain that one of the was. Without knowing which of your partners did it, he decided to eliminate all of you. That way, he will be sure of getting the killer."
She paused again, expecting Henry or Dalton to say something, but both remained silent.
"Every night he goes to visit Juliette's grave and promises her he will avenge her death. Then, he eliminates one more suspect. He started Sunday night when he tried to you"
Welker finally spoke.
"Why am I still alive then? Why would he drag me out of the river and put all those bandages on me if you wanted me dead?"
Niki responded. "That was a stroke of luck for him. How else could he get the information he needed to be at the right place at the right time? He needed you. He needed you to provide information to him before he killed you."
She let the word sink in before going on.
"Where were you going? He had you as a prisoner on Spirit Island."
Welker glared at Bridgestone.
"You sorry sumbitch. You tried to kill me. You killed Bobby."
Welker attempted to stand up, then Dalton rose and pushed the old man back into the recliner.
"Look," the senator said. "I admit that I would love to be the one who avenged Juliette's death. The memories of her are all I have all day long. But think about it. I did not try to kill you. I did not kill Bobby. I did not kill any of those other men."
Niki touched the handle of her revo
lver in his holster in the small of her back. The feel gave her assurance as she continued to talk. She addressed the next question to Dalton while staring directly at him.
"Where were you last night?"
“I was with you," he said. “You know that. You’re the one that kept me from getting arrested or something worse. If it wasn't for you, I'd either be in custody are dead."
She bristled. "And now my friend’s career is in the toilet because of what I did."
"So that is what this is all about. Your boyfriend is being blamed for the police ineptitude. They can't find me and they’re making him the scapegoat."
Niki nodded. "He is being blamed, but we’re getting off of the track here. I was with you at the cemetery. Then you told me you had something to do, and you left me. Where did you go?"
"Why?" He asked. "Don't tell me that someone else died or disappeared."
Niki ran a hand through her strawberry-blonde strands.
"I was telling Mr. Welker that someone murdered Bill Swain early this morning. What time did you get back here?"
Dalton looked over at the old contractor.
"He can tell you. Henry was up when I came in."
"What time?" Niki asked.
"A little while ago. Not more than an hour or two," Welker answered, now attentive.
Niki turned to Bridgestone.
"That would have given you plenty of time to kill Bill Swain and get back here before me. Unless I happened to be there, nobody would have been the wiser."
Dalton turned red. "All of this is garbage and it stinks. It's well thought out garbage, but it’s still garbage."
Niki's voice rose. "Then tell me where I'm wrong. I don't see it any holes in what I have laid out."
Dalton stood and walked to the window, staring at the green clearing. When he responded, his voice was calm and subdued.
"The hole is what you don't know. You don't know where I've been every night since all of this started. That's your hole."
"So where were you? Tell me and I can fill out some of these holes."
Dalton declined.
"I can't tell you that. It would betray the trust someone has placed in me."
Niki exploded, her face much more crimson than her strawberry locks.
"Let's talk about trust. My friend has no future in law enforcement, absolutely none, because of my trust in you. I betrayed his trust in me because I believed in you. Don't lecture me about the betrayal of trust."
Dalton sighed. "I appreciate everything you've done. I don't know how to convince you I had nothing to do with Bill Swain's death."
"That's easy," Niki was still red. "Tell me where you went after we split up and tell me the name of someone that can verify your story."
Dalton glanced at Walker. "I can't do that."
"Why not?" Niki demanded, still hot.
Dalton scanned around the room as if searching for an escape hatch. Finding none, he addressed Niki.
"Because it would compromise someone for whom I have a lot of respect and that I treasure as a friend."
Welker stood from his recliner.
"We're talking about the murder of my son. I don't really care about your friend’s position. I want to know if you were the one."
The old man reached behind the recliner and pulled out a Browning Citori shotgun. He pointed it directly at Bridgestone.
"Now, asshole. Answer the question she asked or get prepared to meet your maker."
The senator barely glanced at the twin barrel's pointing at his chest.
"I can't do that, Henry. I made a promise to my friend and I won't break that promise. You do what you have to do. I am fully prepared to meet God."
Welker's hands trembled. Then tears flowed down his cheeks. He wiped them away, but more followed. The steady stream seemed to have no end. Niki reached over and took the shotgun from him. She opened the breach and removed both shells. Then she replaced the weapon behind his recliner.
"Thanks," Dalton verbalized his appreciation to Niki.
Niki walked over and stood directly in front of the senator, looking him in the eyes.
"You need to tell me. If I understand what you're saying, someone in Baton Rouge knows where you are every night. You're concerned that person will get in trouble with the police if you reveal his name. Am I right so far?"
When Bridgestone did not respond, Niki continued.
"What about Mr. Welker and me? We have both known where you've been and we’ll have to answer for that, particularly if you have been out killing those men all week. Tomorrow, Mr. Welker is attending the service for his son. Do you really want him to go there thinking he spent the week with the killer?"
Dalton dropped his gaze.
Niki did not quit. "I've put my butt on the line for you. Not only have I been an integral part of crashing John's career, but I helped you avoid capture. I don't know all the applicable laws that well, but I know what I did is criminal."
Dalton absorbed all her words. He twisted them and turned them over in his mind. After much consideration, he spoke.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Tell the truth. If I know the truth, I can deal with it. It’s the lies and deceit I can't handle."
"I haven't lied to you," the senator protested.
"But you haven't told me the whole truth either. You need to do that now."
Dalton let out a long sigh.
"I'll tell one of you. Henry, you’re attending Bobby's funeral tomorrow. You’ll get asked a lot of questions by a lot of people including the police. I rather not put you in a position of having to lie to them."
Welker responded. "I have been lying for years, and until you came along, nobody noticed. I can lie again, and nobody will know."
Dalton held up his hand.
"I don't want you to lie on my behalf. If you want to tell them I spent the week with you, then go ahead. There are other places I can stay until all of this is over."
Henry grinned. "If my plan works, it’ll be over tomorrow. But first, I want to make sure you are on the up and up. If you don't want to tell me where you've been, I understand that. Tell Niki where you spent your nights in Baton Rouge. I trust her judgment. She'll know if you are telling the truth or not."
Dalton glanced at Niki and quietly pointed at the door.
The senator address Welker. "If you will excuse us then, we’ll step outside. When we come back again, I believe she’ll tell you I have murdered no one, including Bobby."
Welker grunted and the younger ones exited through the door and went down the steps. They walked a few feet into the lush rye grass. Dalton started swatting at the mosquitoes, then noticed they were not attacking Niki.
"Why didn't you remind me to put on some repellent?"
She looked around as if noticing the flying pests for the first time. "I have none on."
Dalton continued to swat at the bloodsucking bugs.
"Then why aren't they biting you? They're killing me."
"That's because you haven't made peace with the rougis yet."
"And I guess you have." Cynicism obvious in his tone.
"Yep," the leggy investigator replied. "They're my friends and they won't let anything happen to me while I'm on Spirit Island."
"I wish they would do the same for me," Dalton said. A soft warm breeze that both of them directly in their faces. Suddenly, the swarm of mosquitoes disappeared into the blue sky.
Dalton stared at the heavens.
"That was amazing. That was the same breeze I felt before I came back to the camp when you had that spat with those four follows."
Niki smiled. “I'm familiar with it. Now I understand what it means."
Dalton asked. "Do you believe in the spirits of the dead rougarous?"
Niki pointed to the sky. "Do you see any mosquitoes?"
Dalton was not ready to concede.
"But that doesn't mean I’ll buy into the folklore yet. It will take more than mosquitoes deciding my blood doesn't fit their
taste buds for lunch to convince me."
Niki dropped her gaze to Dalton.
"Let's get back to why we’re here. Where were you this morning when Mr. Swain was killed?"
Dalton replied. "I don't know exactly when he died, but I was at the same place I've been going to every night after visiting Juliette's grave."
"Where is that?" Niki pressed.
"I've gone to my church to pray with my pastor, Brother Jeff. He believes in me and knows that I would never harm Juliette. I asked him to perform the wedding even before I gave her the ring."
“Will Brother Jeff confirm this?"
"If I write him a note, he will. But I don't want this to go any further than you. If it got out that he has been seeing me, there are some folks in our congregation that will crucify him."
Niki took two steps toward the edge of the clearing.
"What time did you leave him this morning?"
"It was probably seven-thirty or eight." The senator responded. "We prayed and then we talked and then we prayed again."
"Will he tell me if you confessed to him?"
Dalton shrugged. "I don't know if he would or not, but he doesn’t have to make that decision. I never confessed to Brother Jeff because I did not kill Juliette or any of these men."
"How will I get in to see the pastor?"
Dalton smiled. "He knows all about you. I told him you're my guardian angel."
Niki laughed. "Thanks for the promotion, but I believe you must be of another world or dead to qualify."
"I'll write you a note. He won't mind talking to you. I'll make a reference in it about my guardian angel, so he’ll know it's real."
"I'm convinced." Niki kissed him lightly on his cheeks. "Let's get back inside with Mr. Welker."
When they entered the camp, Henry sat in the recliner loading his shotgun.
"Mr. Welker," Niki burst. "I don't think you’ll need that. I believe Dalton is telling the truth."
Welker grunted. "Then let's get down to business."
"What do you want to do?"
The old contractor smiled. "I've been thinking about this. With Swain dead, that only leaves the LaBorde and Kemp. My money is on Wayne."
Bridgestone concurred. "He seems to be the new leader, and he has the most to gain. I agree with you, Henry."