Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1)

by Jim Riley

  The Hooper Road extension loomed on her left. A gravel dump truck approached in the other lane. Niki held her breath and jerked the steering wheel. The dump truck clipped the rear end of the SUV, spinning it in a circle.

  The collision slowed her down. The driver-side airbag exploded at the impact with the loblolly pine tree. When she became aware of her surroundings, an East Baton Rouge Parish Deputy was asking questions. At first his voice was garbled, and the sentences ran together.

  He left and a paramedic appeared by her side. The EMT wiped her face with a cool, refreshing cloth. Her eyes focused once again.

  "Where are you hurting?" The paramedic asked.

  "Uh—nowhere. I feel fine."

  The young man chuckled.

  "Then you're fortunate. Most people that play tag with one of these gravel trucks don't feel fine afterwards. We need to get you to a hospital and check you out."

  Niki tried to straighten up without success.

  " Just stay right there, ma'am. Will get the gurney over here in load you up. We’ll make you as comfortable as we can."

  "No." Niki was a stern as she could be.

  "Ma'am, go to the hospital. You took a good lick when you hit that tree. We need to see if you have any internal entries. We can't do that here."

  "No," Niki repeated. "I'm not going."

  "Ma'am, you don't have a choice."

  Niki pulled the Smith & Wesson .38 from its holster, crying out in pain, and rested it on her lap.

  "I think I have a choice."

  The EMT backed away. A deputy immediately filled the space. He reached over and took the gun from her lap.

  "Let me hold on to this until we get all this sorted out."

  Niki nodded.

  The deputy continued. “The other driver says you cut in front of him. He tried to break, but didn't have enough time to completely avoid contact. It's what he said true?"

  Niki nodded again.

  "Why were you in such a hurry? You almost killed yourself."

  "I wasn't in a hurry," Niki said as she struggled to complete the whole sentence.

  "I beg to differ, ma'am. We have witnesses that say you were driving like a bat out of hell. They say you almost ran into a pickup truck a little ways back."

  “I could— not stop." Niki responded

  “Why not?"

  “Somebody messed with my brakes. They didn't work."

  ‘”Ma'am, brakes don't just quit working. Have you been drinking?"

  "Not a drop."

  "Are you taking any medication or drugs? You know we can test for that."

  Niki's voice showed her irritation.

  "I haven't been drinking. I don't do drugs and I'm not on any medication that makes the loony. I'm not crazy. Somebody tampered with my brakes."

  "Yes, ma'am. We’ll have it checked out when we tow it to the impound lot."

  "No. Call this number."

  Niki pulled up the business card of Gordon Fisher from her pocket.

  "I want him to look at it before the vehicle goes anywhere."

  "I can't do that, ma'am. We have procedures."

  Niki yelled. “Screw your procedures. Call John d'Iberville. He's the lead detective in your department. He'll tell you to flush your procedures down the toilet."

  Then Niki remembered that Samson suspended John. She called the detective back.

  "Instead call Samson Mayeaux. He's the head of homicide for the East Baton Rouge department."

  The deputy stared at her for a few minutes. At the mention of Samson's name, his whole demeanor changed. There was no doubt that he had heard of the fury of the chief of homicide. He called Fisher. After a couple of minutes, he turned to Niki.

  "Fisher wants to know if you're willing to pay his emergency rate."

  Niki raised her thumb indicating she would. The deputy hung up and approached the investigators.

  "We need to get you in the ambulance and check you out. You don't look so great."

  Niki laughed. "Geez, thanks. That's what every girl wants to hear."

  The deputy blushed. "I didn't mean it like that. We’ll need to check you out. Will you go to the ambulance?"

  Niki nodded. The paramedics put her on a stretcher and slid her into the rear of the emergency vehicle. They inserted an IV into her arm and checked her vital signs. All checked out within reasonable limits.

  The strawberry-blonde investigator laid back and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Gordon Fisher knelt beside her.

  "Miss Dupre, I looked at your vehicle."

  "And?"

  “Someone deliberately sabotaged your brakes. Whoever it was meant to kill you."

  "Did you tell the deputy?"

  "Yes, ma'am. He, unfortunately, was looking over my shoulder throughout the entire inspection. Very annoying, if I may say so."

  "Can I ask you for a favor? I'm willing to pay,"

  Fisher smiled." Those are the magic words. What can I do for you?"

  "Take me to the rental car agency. I have some unfinished business."

  Saturday Night

  Denham Springs

  Niki held her breath when she rapped on the front door. A freckle-faced preteen opened it. The girl dressed in cutoff blue jeans and T-shirt that displayed the image of a local country and western band said nothing but stared at Niki.

  "Is your daddy home?" Niki asked.

  The girl continued to stare at the investigator.

  Finally she spoke. "Gosh, you're pretty. How did you get so pretty?"

  Niki blushed. "Thank you. You're pretty too."

  "Do you really think so?"

  "You’ll have to beat the boys off with a stick in a few years. Is your daddy home?"

  "Yes ma'am. He's watching TV. That's all he ever does lately. Sometimes he watches it even though it is turned off. I think he's gone loco."

  "May I come in to see him?" Asked Niki.

  The girl looked over her shoulder.

  "I guess so. He don't talk much anymore. Mama tried to get him to talk. When he did, she cried. That's where she is now. In her room crying."

  Niki edged inside the door.

  "Where is your daddy?"

  The freckled lass pointed toward the back of the house.

  "He's in his room. He has his own TV and recliner. He said if he had a cooler full of beer, he would call that room heaven."

  Niki laughed.

  "What's your name?"

  The girl beamed. "I'm Lindsay Joe. Daddy just called me Jo unless he's mad at me."

  "Well, Jo. I need to talk to your daddy. I hope I see you when I come out."

  Jo hesitated.

  "Please don't get him mad. He yells a lot when he gets mad."

  Niki looked at the photographs sitting on the shelves and adorning the walls. Almost all of them included Jo and a boy that appeared to be two or three years younger. The family resemblance was unmistakable.

  She found Phillip Kemp reclined in his chair, his eyes closed. The TV was on, but the sound muted. Niki walked to the side of the chair and placed her hand on Kemp's arm.

  "Mr. Kemp," she whispered.

  Kemp opened his eyes with a start, surprised at Niki's presence.

  "What—?" He sputtered.

  "Mr. Kemp. I'm Niki Dupre. We met briefly at Sammy's restaurant and also at Spirit Island."

  The contractor smiled at her with wide eyes.

  "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

  He looked over his shoulder.

  "How did you get in?"

  Niki replied. "Your daughter let me in. She is worried about you."

  "I’m okay," he said gruffly. "You need to get out of here before I call the police."

  "I believe your life may be in danger. Most of your partners in this bid-rigging scheme are dead. Do you want to be next?"

  Kemp's head sank onto his chest. Then Niki noticed the empty beer cans on the floor.

  "Mr. Kemp, will you talk to me?"

  Kemp nodded.

  "W
e met at the hunting camp. Do you remember that?"

  The contractor's slurred his response.

  "I'm—I'm sorry. I never thought Wayne would go that far. He wouldn't—he didn't tell us. I was surprised. I'm sorry."

  Niki sat in the leather chair next to the recliner.

  "Have you talked to Mr. LaBorde?"

  "I talked to the sick son of a—I told him I was ready for him. When he comes after me. I told him I would kill him deader than a door nail.

  Niki flicked only tape recorder in her pocket.

  "Do you think Mr. LaBorde killed your partners?"

  Kemp reached for another can of beer, but he found only empties.

  "Excuse me."

  He stood on unsteady legs and left the room. When he returned, he carried a full can in each hand. He plopped down heavily in the recliner.

  "Why do you think he did it, Mr. Kemp?"

  The contractor stared at a cold can.

  "How much do you know?"

  Niki debated how much to tell him. She decided to recap for him almost everything.

  "I know you and some other contractors conspired to rig the bids on several large jobs with the state. I know the Welkers, in particular Henry Welker, led the effort. I know your co–conspirator inside the government was a buyer name Oberlin Davis, III. I know all the parties involved are dead except for Mr. Welker, Mr. LaBorde and you. I know the killing started when Dalton Bridgestone sent out an inquiry letter after he discovered discrepancies with the awards of the contracts."

  Kemp shifted in his chair.

  "You’re right about most of it. You’re wrong about Henry. He was the first one. He's been gone since last Sunday."

  Niki took the can from his hand and sat it out of reach.

  "Mr. Henry is alive. Somebody tried to kill him, but he survived."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because I've been with him most of the week. He will be at Bobby's funeral tomorrow."

  Kemp closed his eyes and settled back in his chair.

  "Well, I'll be damned. Old Henry made it. I always knew that old coot was tougher than a three-day-old steak. How is he?"

  Niki replied. "Mr. Henry is struggling with Bobby's death, but other than that, he’s okay."

  "Good for him. Does he know who tried to kill him?"

  "I believe he suspects Mr. LaBorde. If you think about it, it's down to you and him. He doesn't believe you would do something like that."

  Kemp's gaze searched unsuccessfully for the missing beer. He turned back to Niki.

  "I wouldn't and I didn't. It has to be LaBorde."

  "What will you do to protect yourself?"

  "I am turning myself into the police Monday morning. If I tell them everything, there won't be no reason to kill me. It'll be too late for that."

  Niki placed a hand on his.

  "Is that why your wife is crying?"

  Tears rolled down the masculine face.

  "I told her this morning. She knows I’ll spend the rest of my life in jail. She knows they’ll probably take the house. She doesn't work. I don't know how she and the kids will make it."

  Niki squeezed his hand.

  "They’ll make it, Mr. Kemp. The important thing is they’ll come see you. You’ll keep up with them."

  The tears increased.

  "I won’t see them graduate from high school. I won't be able to warn Jo about the boys she’ll date. I won't get to see my son play football."

  "But at least you'll be alive. Maybe you can work some deal with the DA. If you testify against the others, they might reduce your sentence."

  He nodded. "If I live until Monday. Wayne wants to talk to me tomorrow after Bobby's service. I don't trust him."

  Niki gave him a wry grin.

  "Can't say I blame you on that count. You won’t change your mind, will you?"

  "The hardest part was telling my wife. That's already done. I only have to tell the police."

  Niki glanced toward the front of the house to make sure Jo was not eavesdropping.

  "What will you do to make sure you will be safe until Monday?"

  Kemp reached under his seat and pulled out a massive .44 Magnum. He waved it at her.

  "This is my protection. I dare him to mess with me."

  "How about your wife and kids? How will you protect them?"

  He waved the gun.

  "Same way. One bullet will to do it."

  Niki stood. “If you don't mind, I'd like to keep a watch over your house tonight. I believe we’ll take care of Mr. LaBorde tomorrow."

  "Suit yourself, but I can take care of myself."

  Niki watched as he found a full can of beer.

  "Maybe you can, Mr. Kemp. But I want to make sure your wife and kids are okay."

  Niki knew it would be a long night.

  Saturday Night

  Denham Springs

  Niki huddled underneath two white oak trees at the edge of Phillip’s property. The chill of the night air made her long for a heavier jacket. The fallen leaves on which she rested offered little comfort. As the night wore on, the young investigator thought she had erred in her assumption. After talking with Kemp, she felt there was no way LaBorde would let him go to the police Monday. If so, all the other murders were in vain.

  She felt LaBorde had to act before Monday morning. Since the other attacks occurred at night except for the attempt on Swain at the park, she thought tonight the most likely for another.

  But as the midnight hour came and passed, she sensed that LaBorde would wait until Sunday night. At one in the morning, she dozed.

  Niki awakened hearing steps on the front porch. Glancing at her watch, she realized she slept for more than an hour. In the moonlight’s reflection, the investigator saw the silhouette of a man trying to peek in the front window.

  The image of the man look strongly familiar, though obscured by a heavy black overcoat. Niki watched the stalker leave the porch and circle to the near side of the house. She held the .38 revolver tight in her hand resting on the brown leaves in front of her body.

  A thick cloud passed over. She temporarily lost sight of the intruder. When the cloud passed, she saw the dark figure peering into the house through a freshly broken window.

  When the intruder lifted himself up Niki shouted, "Hold it right there. I have you covered."

  She then saw fire explode from the tip of the barrel of the gun the man held. The bullet struck a white oak limb four feet above her head. The investigator sighed relief over her decision to lie down rather than stand up. That was all the time she had before the next shot struck the same white oak, this time only a foot above her head.

  Niki knew that she could put a bullet between the man's eyes, even at this range with a small caliber weapon. But given the circumstances, she fired three quick shots at his feet to stop him.

  Instead of stopping, the man fired three more shots in her direction. None came close. She charged at the intruder. When she was only six feet away, a blast ripped from inside of the house. Buckshot pelted the surrounding ground.

  She saw the intruder sprinting toward the woods on the other side of the house. The long-legged investigator dropped to the ground and rolled away from the field of fire. When she looked up, another blast from inside the house passed above her head.

  The intruder disappeared into the woods. She she rolled twice toward the house, reached up and grabbed the twin barrels of the shotgun. She jerked them out of Phillip’s hands and threw it into the yard. Then she saw the barrels of the shotgun disappear and a .44 Magnum extend out of the window. A quick chop, and the revolver fell too harmlessly to the ground.

  Phillip Kemp cursed at the turn of events. "Who's there? Where are you?"

  Niki emerged from her position under the window.

  "I'm here, Mr. Kemp. Niki Dupre. I told you I’d be watching the house."

  "Why were you trying to break into my house?"

  "I didn't. That had to be LaBorde. I was about to stop him when you
got in the way. I'll come around to the front porch. Please don't shoot me if you have another gun."

  Niki walked up the porch. Light bulbs flashed, and she saw Kemp's wife standing by the door, panic clear in her expression and posture.

  Kemp appeared behind his wife.

  "What is this all about?"

  Niki stepped around the wife and talked directly to Kemp.

  "Somebody tried to break into your house. I was about to take him down when you shot at us."

  Phillip's wife put an arm around Niki. "Oh, my God. Are you hurt?"

  "No, ma'am. But I think your husband may have hit the guy based on his reaction. I'm not sure, but he acted as if he was hurting when he ran off."

  Kemp snarled at his wife.

  "Don't just stand there. Go call the police. They may find LaBorde before he gets away."

  The frightened woman hurried back into the house. Kemp motioned toward the cedar swing at the end of the porch.

  "Me and you. We’ll wait for the police to get here and get to the bottom of this."

  Saturday Night

  Denham Springs

  The Livingston Parish Sheriff deputies concluded their investigation and questioning. They discovered blood drops under the side window confirming that at least one buckshot struck the intruder.

  They dug two slugs out of the white oak, hoping that ballistics would lead them to the perpetrator. The lead deputy spoke to Niki and Phillip before departing.

  "I don't think you hit him too good, Mr. Kemp. There isn't much blood over there by the window, and none where you told us he ran."

  Niki shrugged. "At least he didn’t kill Mr. Kemp."

  "Yes, ma'am. That is the good news."

  Kemp blurted, "When will you arrest him?"

  The deputy turned to the contractor. "Arrest who?"

  Kemp erupted. "Haven't you been listening? Wayne LaBorde. That's who. He's the one that tried to kill me."

  The deputy looked down at his note, though it was unnecessary.

  "According to Ms. Dupre, she could not identify the intruder. She has met Mr. LaBorde before and could not identify the man she saw as Mr. LaBorde."