But Not For Fear

by BJ Bourg

  “That evil woman!” he had said, his voice shaking with anger. “I always suspected there was something wrong with her.”

  I asked that he keep the information quiet. “We want to catch her by surprise,” I’d explained. “I’m afraid if she decides to run she could afford to leave the country before we have a chance to catch up to her.”

  He had agreed to keep it quiet and we’d talked for about twenty more minutes before I finally told him I had to go.

  “I need to contact Biloxi P.D. for their assistance,” I’d said, about to end the call.

  “Wait,” he had said quickly. “If she’s not at my son’s home, she’ll be in one of the casinos along the coast. Frank once told me she loves to gamble.”

  I had promised to update him as soon as the arrest was made and ended the call. Amy and I had then driven from Pass Christian to Biloxi and met with Combel there. We had followed him to the mansion, which was a massive, two-story square-shaped home built across the highway from the beach. It was constructed of white brick and topped with a brown metal roof. There were large double doors on the main level and on the balcony above, and large windows lined the front of both levels.

  Combel had approached the home alone so as not to invoke suspicion, but no one had responded to the ringing of the doorbell. Heeding Mr. Jones’ advice, we had then begun checking the casinos along the coast. We had checked the gambling halls, the restaurants, the shops, and the pool areas, but had come up short.

  Now, as we were checking the last casino on the list, I was starting to doubt we’d find Nelly. Had she somehow gotten wind that we were searching for her? Had she taken a large portion of Frank’s money and fled the area? With as much money as Frank was reported to have, she could go anywhere in the world and hide out.

  I was making mental notes to check airports, train stations, and bus stations when Amy grabbed my left bicep and squeezed.

  “There!” she hissed, indicating the opposite side of the pool. “Nelly’s the one standing at the bar with her back to us.”

  I glanced in the direction she’d indicated. “The one with the red bikini?”

  “Yep!”

  A tall man had his hand pressed firmly against her buttocks and they were facing each other laughing hysterically. She wagged a finger at the bartender and the young man quickly brought her another drink.

  As we made our way around the perimeter of the pool, I scanned the faces, searching for Combel. I spotted him just as we rounded the other end. We were still twenty feet from Nelly and she was between us and Combel. I made eye contact with him and pointed toward our suspect. He shifted his eyes and nodded.

  Pushing through the crowd of sparsely-clad people, we converged on Nelly from two different directions and were soon surrounding her. She was sucking on her thin straw and had casually turned around when her eyes locked with mine. In a flash, she threw her drink in my direction and shoved her companion toward Detective Combel.

  I batted away the drink just in time to see Nelly throw a right roundhouse kick toward Amy’s head. No slouch in the fighting department, Amy instinctively lifted her left arm to shield the side of her head as she simultaneously shot a straight right punch that clipped Nelly’s chin. A befuddled expression washed over Nelly’s face as she collapsed to the concrete.

  People in the vicinity had immediately scattered when the fracas first began and I could clearly see Nelly on the ground. Her eyes were wide as she stared around, dazed and confused.

  “What…what happened?”

  “You got knocked the hell out.” Amy reached down and jerked Nelly to her unsteady feet. “You’d better get your money back for the kickboxing classes.”

  Combel stepped forward and advised Nelly that she was under arrest for two counts of first degree murder and one count of attempted first degree murder by the authority of a warrant from Mechant Loup, Louisiana.

  “Murder?” she asked, slurring her speech and swaying slightly as she was being handcuffed. When she spoke, blood sprayed from her mouth. “I’ve never hurt anyone. I…I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  I advised Nelly of her Miranda rights and we headed for the gate. I figured it wasn’t every day that a woman in a red bikini was arrested at the casino pool, because everyone stopped what they were doing and stared in stunned silence as we escorted her away.

  “I told you that was Frank Jones’ wife!” I heard someone say in a hushed whisper. “I knew she killed him!”

  I didn’t hear the murmured response, but it was then that I realized why people were staring. Frank had been a big deal in these parts and his untimely death must’ve caused quite a stir around town. And now that his grieving widow was hanging out at the casino pool with some strange man, I was sure the rumors would start circulating immediately.

  We had just pushed through the gate to the pool when I sensed someone approaching from behind. I turned and saw the man who’d had his hand on Nelly’s butt earlier.

  “What do you want?” I asked, blocking the egress point. Amy and Combel continued escorting Nelly from the property.

  “Um, where are you taking her?”

  “She’s going to jail, where she’ll probably remain until her trial, which won’t be for another year or so.” I studied his face, which appeared soft and pampered. “What’s she to you?”

  “I just met her. We were making plans for tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, but you’ll have to cancel those plans.”

  “What’d she do?”

  “She convinced someone to murder her rich husband on their honeymoon.”

  “Wait, they were on their honeymoon when he died?”

  “Yep.”

  He scowled. “I got the impression from her that they had been married for a while. She didn’t mention if they had kids or anything, but she told a lot of stories about the husband. Frank, I think she said his name was.”

  “Did she say how he died?”

  “She claimed he drowned in a boating accident.”

  “Yeah, well, she lied.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Other than complaining about a headache and asking for something with which to wipe her nose, Nelly refused to talk. She even refused to sign the rights form when Combel advised her of her rights again.

  “Wait until my lawyers hear about this,” she said. “You clearly don’t know who you’re messing with. I’m a prominent member of this community and that no-good piece of shit Saul is a convicted felon. No one will believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”

  “Who said anything about Saul?” I asked.

  She gasped, clamped her mouth shut, and then shoved a thin index finger in Amy’s direction. “As for that bitch, I’m going to sue her ass off. She’ll have to pay for the surgery to fix my nose.”

  “You’ll have to sue her from prison,” I said, removing a digital recorder from my pocket. I placed it gently on the desk in front of her.

  “What’s that?” she asked, gazing upon it as though it was a rattlesnake about to strike.

  I had previously transferred the audio files from Saul’s phone to the recorder. I now accessed one of the recordings and set it to play. Nelly’s eyes grew wide when she heard her own voice begin blaring from the tiny speaker, and the color drained from her face as she described to Saul exactly how she wanted Frank to be murdered.

  “This is entrapment!” she blurted, reaching for the recorder. None of us moved as she snatched it up and flung it across the room, where it crashed into the wall and broke into dozens of pieces. She stared wildly at us, confused by our lack of emotion.

  “That was only a copy,” I said, standing to my feet. I gestured toward Combel, who was filling out the arrest report. “You’ll be booked into jail here and then transported to the Chateau Parish Detention Center, where you’ll be held while you await trial.”

  “I’ll bond out and you’ll never see me again!”

  “The bond’s five million dollars,” I said.

  She grunted confidently. “I�
��ve got that in my checking account and even more in my savings account.”

  “When’s the last time you checked your bank accounts?” I asked with more confidence than she had displayed.

  The color that had returned to her face with the destruction of the digital recorder began to fade once again. “What do you mean?”

  “While you have access to Frank’s bank accounts through his online dashboard,” I said slowly, leaning on the back of a chair, “your name has never been added to the accounts. But do you know whose names are on the accounts?”

  She blinked, but didn’t say anything.

  “His father and mother are listed on his accounts.” I straightened and glanced at the time on my phone. “About two hours ago, after learning that you killed his son, Frank’s father transferred everything from Frank’s bank accounts to a joint account Frank shared with his parents. They had created the joint account so Frank could handle their affairs in the event of their deaths. As it turns out—and sadly for them—they’ll have to use it to handle his affairs. So, really, the only thing Frank left to you was an exorbitant house note that you’ll never be able to afford.”

  “But…but I’m his wife!” she protested heatedly. “That money belongs to me!”

  “Good luck making that argument from prison.” I thanked Combel and led Amy out into the night air. We were about two blocks from the Gulf of Mexico and I could taste the salt on the cool breeze that blew in off the water. “Let’s go home. I miss my family.”

  As I drove my truck along Old Highway 90, which was now named Beach Boulevard, I called Frank’s dad and let him know about the arrest.

  “How’d she react to the news that she’s a poor woman now?” he asked.

  “She was angry, that’s for sure.”

  “Good.” There was a long moment of silence and I could tell he was weeping softly on the other end. Finally, he came back on and thanked me in a hoarse voice before abruptly ending the call.

  I understood and called Phillip Burke to let him know his son was not responsible for any of the murders. He thanked me profusely, but I told him it had nothing to do with me. I also apologized for suspecting his son and for what had happened.

  “I wish I could go back and change things,” I said, frowning in the darkness.

  “I love my son and I hate that he’s gone,” Phillip said in a choked-up voice, “but he shot at the police. You can’t shoot at the police and expect to survive.”

  I only nodded. When our conversation was over, I next called Mayor Cain and let her know about the arrest.

  “So, it wasn’t for fear after all,” she mused.

  “Nope, it was just a greedy and hateful woman looking to take advantage of a good man.” I stopped for a traffic light and shook my head. “And she almost had us fooled. Had she not over-thought it and sent Saul after those college kids, she might very well have gotten away with it.”

  “Nah, you would’ve sniffed it out.”

  I grunted and didn’t respond to her unrealistic vote of confidence.

  “Is Regan still doing well?” she asked after a moment.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s back at work already,” I said. “She wants to patrol the bayous and lakes as much as possible now. She loves it on the water.”

  “Well, she’s come to the right place, considering large chunks of our land keep turning to water every year. Before long, we’ll be like Venice.”

  “Venice, Louisiana?” I asked, knowing full well she meant Italy and not the small community located at the southeastern tip of our state.

  She laughed and we talked briefly before ending the conversation. Finally, I called Susan. I could hear Grace’s voice yapping excitedly in the background. I was surprised she was still awake at this late hour.

  After telling Susan I was on my way home, I asked why Grace sounded so excited.

  “When the phone rang, I told her it was you,” Susan said. “She loves her Daddy and misses him when he’s gone—and so do I.”

  I smiled warmly, my eyes smarting a little. I already knew Susan loved me, but one can never be sure what’s going on in the mind of a two-year-old. I had never stopped to consider how she felt about me. While I knew I loved her, it definitely made my heart swell with joyous emotion to think that the mere mention of my name would make my daughter so happy.

  At that moment, I silently thanked God for Susan, Grace, and everything good in my life. I also said a silent prayer for the parents of Frank Jones and Chrissy Graves. While I knew it was impossible to save all of my victims, I sure wished I could.

  Click here to join BJ’s mailing list.

  NOVELS BY BJ BOURG

  Clint Wolf Mysteries

  But Not Forgotten

  But Not Forgiven

  But Not Forsaken

  But Not Forever

  But Not For Naught

  But Not Forbidden

  But Not Forlorn

  But Not Formidable

  But Not For Love

  But Not Forborne

  But Not Forewarned

  But Not Foreboding

  But Not Forespoken

  But Not For Blood

  But Not Foreknown

  But Not Fortuitous

  But Not For Fear

  But Not Foreseen

  Magnolia Parish Mysteries

  Hollow Crib

  Hollow Bond

  London Carter Mysteries

  James 516

  Proving Grounds

  Silent Trigger

  Bullet Drop

  Elevation

  Blood Rise

  About the Author

  BJ Bourg is a former professional boxer and a lifelong martial artist who hails from the swamps of Louisiana. A thirty-year veteran of law enforcement, he has worked as a patrol cop, a detective sergeant, a police academy instructor, and the chief investigator for a DA’s office. He has successfully investigated all types of felony cases and has trained hundreds of law enforcement officers in self-defense, firearms, and criminal operations. He retired in October of 2020 to pursue his boyhood dream of becoming a fulltime writer.

  Throughout his career, Bourg has served on many specialized units such as SWAT, the Explosives Search Team, and the Homicide Response Team. He founded his agency’s sniper program and served as its leader for nearly a decade. A graduate of seven basic and advanced sniper schools, he deployed as the primary sniper on dozens of call-outs, including barricaded subjects, hostage rescue operations, and fugitive apprehensions. He also served as the sniper instructor for the 2001 Louisiana Tactical Police Officers Association’s Conference.

  Bourg has been the recipient of numerous awards, including Top Shooter at an FBI Sniper School, the Distinguished Service Medal, and Certificates of Commendation for his work as a homicide detective. He is a public speaker and has also written dozens of articles for law enforcement magazines, covering a wide range of topics such as defensive tactics, sniper deployment, suspect interrogation, report writing, and more. Above all else, he is a father and a husband, and the highlight of his life is spending time with his beautiful wife and wonderful children. Nowadays, he splits his time between Lafourche Parish, Louisiana and Tellico Plains, Tennessee while working on his next novel—whatever it might be.

  https://www.bjbourg.com