Crescent City Murder

by Alec Peche

  “You think I work that fast? We spoke just thirty minutes ago.”

  “Yeah, I do. You're fabulous with pictures. What have you found?”

  “Ha! It just so happens you're right! I went to the National Hurricane Center and they have lots of footage of the Louisiana Coast as you suspected. I also found more from the National Oceanic and Atmosphere Center. Give me another hour, to find all the links for you and then you can run it through the program.”

  “You're the best!”

  Jill glanced at her watch and returned to looking up property ownership. She'd calculated that the earliest bad guys could arrive from New Orleans was one in the afternoon, then they would have to get a rental car and make the drive to the Palisades Valley, which took another hour. So any efficient criminal would be arriving in her town about now. Then she had a bad thought – what if they went after Nathan? She picked up her phone and called.

  No answer, he must be in a client meeting so she left a message, reviewing her travel calculations and asking him to make sure that he had his security system turned on.

  Now, she returned to the new addresses she had containing marijuana. She dropped an email to Briggs and Heyer about her findings and asked for their assistance in searching for ownership. She was always curious about what the tax records would show for these properties. Those records were public and she could find them on her own, but the process she would have to go through to get that information would probably be delayed by a week or two depending on whether she could get it through the Internet or by snail mail.

  Her phone rang and the caller ID said 'blocked'. Normally she didn't answer those kinds of calls, but given the timing, it might be the detectives.

  “Hello.”

  “Jill, this is Detective Heyer. Got your email and we're looking into your property records. I'm surprised that the software you mentioned isn't used by the Drug Enforcement Agency. Seems like an easy way to find illegal pot fields.”

  “I suspect the problem might be the cost of software. My copy was gifted when I solved a murder for the CEO of the company that manufactures the software. I can give you that information if you think your agency might be interested in purchasing it.”

  “If the DEA can't afford it, then I'm sure the New Orleans Police Department can't afford it,” Heyer said and Jill could hear the smile in her voice. “Before I forget, let me thank you for all the work you're doing for this case. We would find this information ourselves, but it would have taken a lot longer than it seems to take for you.”

  “I'm motivated to help you. I met with my local Sheriff to discuss the details of this case. I unfortunately dragged his department into protecting me in previous cases. In one of those early cases, his main Sheriff station was shot up by some bad dudes. I was inside the station at the time and they were just protecting me. So he'd really like me to close this case quickly.”

  “Despite all the weird cases I've been involved with in New Orleans, I'd love to share a beer with you if you ever return to my city. I bet you have far more fascinating stories than I do,” Heyer said.

  “You would be amazed. Meanwhile, I have my sophisticated security system turned on at the moment guarding my vineyard, my dog, and I. I left a message for Nathan as well to make sure his security system is on. By my calculations, any bad dudes that left New Orleans to track me down in California should be approaching my town at any minute. My town sees significant wine tourism, so strangers don't stand out despite it being a small town.

  “Back to the case at hand, one of my team members is collecting satellite and aerial photographs of the Louisiana coast. Later today, I should have a complete listing for you of all farm fields growing marijuana on your coast. Another team member is putting together a dossier of sorts about the Senator and the companies that own these plots of land. It would help me if you would notify me as you locate each landowner based on the tax records.

  “And now I'm going to step way over the line of my knowledge, respect, authority with your department and suggest that you and Detective Briggs bring the FBI into this case. I did a Google search on Louisiana and I'm amazed at the number of sheriffs, judges, and politicians in your fair state that have been indicted in office for criminal behavior. I worry that this Senator could quash this case through her connections in the state.”

  “Actually Jill, Detective Briggs and I were discussing that earlier today. Like you, we see that the Senator has many tentacles in the state and we're wondering where they reach in our department. Obviously to call in the FBI requires approval through the chain of command in our department and we're not confident that the chain of command is trustworthy.”

  Jill appreciated her honesty and the difficulty of their position so she offered a suggestion.

  “Detective Heyer, over the past three years or so, the Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco office has partnered with me on a few cases and connected me to other offices of the FBI. I think you may have spoken to her in reference to me when I first came on the case. How about if I contact her and request her help for my own personal safety. It takes you two out of the loop if I do that. When the FBI does come calling, your relationship with them may be somewhat inhospitable.”

  “I can't tell you to do that Jill, but...” Heyer said getting her point across but not saying anything.

  “Well, I tried. Keep me posted on those property owner names.”

  They ended the call shortly after that and Jill put a call into her contact Leticia Ortiz, Special Agent in Charge. While Jill waited to get through the FBI switchboard to Agent Ortiz, she thought back to their relationship and the assistance that the agent had provided over the years with both helping and protecting Jill. Yes, she would call the agent a 'friend'.

  “Hello Jill. What problem in your life are you having now?” said the agent when she came on the phone.

  Jill laughed and replied, “It's nice that you believe my stories about criminals and criminal behavior, rather than seeking to get me locked up in a psych ward for my vivid, paranoid imagination.”

  “Hey I have no complaints, your cases usually bring me positive recognition from the higher-ups in my organization. What can the FBI do for you today?”

  “I have a political corruption case in Louisiana.”

  “That's good, but that's not my geographic area of responsibility. Is there a reason you're not calling one of the seven offices in that state?”

  “Yeah, it was a Google search that showed something like forty-eight elected officials including sheriffs have been indicted for public corruption. I don't like that and I have a trust issue there. Besides, I'm worried that the bad dudes may have followed me back to California. There were three attempts on my life while I was in New Orleans.”

  Jill could hear the rustling of paper and clicking of a keyboard in the background of the agent's office. That sound alerted her to Agent Ortiz becoming engaged in her case.

  After taking a deep breath the agent said, “I can see now this is going to be a long and complicated story and before I refer it to my colleagues in Louisiana, I'll make sure I can trust them. Before you tell me your story, are you safe at home? I assume you're calling me from home given the area code that my phone says your call is coming from.”

  "Yes I'm safe at the moment, but I have my security system on and I know that the earliest time the trouble could follow me on a commercial flight from New Orleans is about now. Hopefully, my day is quiet,” and with that Jill continued with an explanation of the case.

  "Wow, death by evil spirits? I can see how that would capture your interest."

  Jill continued with the story with the agent asking questions to clarify Jill's explanation. There was silence after she finished her story and Jill knew the agent was thinking about next steps.

  “So you think these employees hired by the Senator to silence you, know your name?”

  “I do. They got a picture of me at some point and they followed me in Louisiana so I think they coul
d've found out who I was based on facial recognition software, or talking to our car rental agency, or the airboat rental, but I don't know any of their names.”

  “So it won't do us any good to get passenger lists.”

  “No, and if they were smart, and they haven't been so far, they could take a flight out of New Orleans to any US destination, change airline companies, and hop aboard a different flight to my local airport, or land at San Francisco or Los Angeles. Impossible to trace all of those passengers.”

  “Maybe they won't follow you to California, but I'm guessing your security system will be the first alert. Have you notified your local sheriff?”

  "Yes I met with him a few hours ago. Needless to say he's less than thrilled. He said he would personally fund my retirement party.”

  “Ouch!” laughed the agent. “I'm going to put aside your personal safety at the moment and let's talk about the political corruption. From what you explained, it sounds like you might have the fastest and potentially most accurate way to account for the illegal behaviors of this Senator.”

  “That's essentially what the two detectives have said in the NOLA PD. It kinda feels crazy, because on the one hand I live in a state with legalized marijuana so why am I offended by growing pot in Louisiana? But I'm irked for other reasons. The attempts on my life are a big deal. The fact that the senator is not paying property taxes because the land is owned by the state and it was declared 'underwater' and it's not. And then finally I looked at her voting record in regards to marijuana and she's done everything she could to keep it illegal which maximizes her profits on the crops she's growing on land she doesn't own. So that's why I'm bothered by someone growing pot.”

  “I hear you, Jill. I can confirm the FBI would agree with your desire to pursue political corruption charges in this case. Part of the issue here is the income from growing an illicit crop. If she sold 'organic' soybeans but used pesticides and she made $40,000 on that and owned the land; that's a far cry from a $3 million crop that is banned in her state grown on land she doesn't own. The first example is still corruption, but it's not growing illicit substances on stolen land. I've worked with some agents in the Louisiana offices, but I know that's a unique state as far as public corruption. I'll talk to a few people and find out who will be my point person there and we'll get rolling on the case. Meanwhile, if you have problems at your house and you have reason to believe that the bad dudes are from Louisiana or any other state, then my office will back up your Sheriff as it's now classified as an interstate crime.”

  “I was hoping you would take that action. That's exactly why called. Keep me posted.”

  “And you likewise,” said the agent as they ended the call.

  Jill sat back pleased with all the little bonfires she ignited. This must be how an arsonist feels as they watched the flames grow. In her case, she was finding more and readily accessible data to take down the Senator. She couldn't wait to read emails from Marie or Angela on what they discovered. She also felt pleased that she had directed the FBI to the back door of this case. In fact she was very pleased with her day so far starting with the run that morning and moving on to the evidence collection. She was sure she deserved a glass of her wine at an unusually early hour for her. Oh well, as the saying went, 'It was four o'clock somewhere in the world.'

  She was in her kitchen pouring the wine when she heard the first beep from her alarm system.

  Chapter 26

  Sean Sharp had never been to California or seen a grapevine. They didn't have them in Louisiana. He supposed it was too wet to grow grapes in the south, or maybe it wasn't sunny enough. People talked really different here too. Since his plane landed, he had not found a single person with a southern accent. At least he found a country-western music station to listen to. And the traffic, he'd never seen anything like it. His boss had booked him on a plane that landed in Los Angeles. The airport had to be ten times bigger than New Orleans, he looked out the window while they taxied on the runway and saw planes going to far off places – China, Japan, Australia and New Zealand. When he was done with this job, he was going to go home and find those places on a map. He'd taken a shuttle bus to get a car rental, he wondered if he was on the wrong bus when it took ten minutes to reach the cars. Then his boss made arrangements for him to drive to a shady looking place just west of the airport where he could get a couple of guns and some ammo. It was all in the trunk of the rental car. He didn't know what this woman had done to make boss so mad, but it was the first time ever he'd been sent out of state to do a job.

  At first, when he'd gotten on to a freeway, he wondered if there was a bad accident up ahead, the traffic was moving very slowly five or ten miles per hour. He looked around him and there were six lanes of traffic crawling slowly north. He liked the sun and the beautiful people, but this traffic was a nightmare. He wondered when he might finally drive out of it. There were no accidents, just a lot of people trying to go somewhere. Eventually after he passed an amusement park on the left, he sensed the traffic easing. His speed had picked up to the set limit of 65 mph. At first, he stayed at this speed because he didn't want any cops stopping him for speeding and finding the guns in the car. But when he had big rig tractor trailers passing him, he knew he had to speed it up. He tested his speed with the flow of car traffic and found he needed to do at least 73 miles per hour. He kept climbing uphill and he marveled at the mountains around him. There were no houses, yet there were eight lanes of traffic full of cars, weird. Then he saw a really scary sight, signs giving the distance to the runaway truck ramp while he'd been traveling downhill on a very steep grade. All of the big rig trucks were in the far right lane and had a posted speed limit of 35 mph. He'd seen a brake check area and wondered what that was for and now he understood. He was glad he was a professional hit man rather than a long-haul truck driver.

  He'd reached the bottom of that massive mountain and the land looked flat for miles ahead and he could see he was driving through California's version of farming - huge cattle ranches, orange, avocado, and nut trees, sandy soil and tumbleweeds. It helped that the farmers had signs telling passing motorists what the orchard was growing. The lush greenness of Louisiana was nowhere in sight. His GPS indicated that he would arrive at his target location in about an hour and a half. Once he arrived, he planned to get the lay of the land and study his target's behavior. He hoped he could get the job done today as there was a 1 AM flight from Los Angeles home and he would need another four hours plus an hour and a half to dump the car and get through security at the airport. That timeline gave him four hours max to get the job done in this Palisades Valley.

  He entered the town that seemed to be comprised of rolling hills and vineyards wherever he looked. There was a small Main Street with the requisite big grocery store in a strip mall off the main street. He passed a Sheriff's office that looked newly remodeled and followed the GPS to his victim's address. The land and buildings were so different from home, and the heat was so dry.

  As he passed the open gate of the road leading to his victim's house he noticed the sign that said 'Quixotic Winery', and wondered if he had the right address. He sent an email to the boss to verify that the address of the winery was where his victim lived. While he awaited a response, he found a section of the road he could pull over on and use binoculars to further scope the layout of the land that might contain his victim at this very moment.

  There were gently sloping rows of grapevines surrounding the house. The property also seemed to contain some barn type buildings and he wondered why she needed a barn as he hadn't seen any livestock in surveillance. He focused the binoculars on the windows of the house to see if he could see any movement. He wanted to assume that if the gate was open, she would be home. He had her picture on his cell phone and knew besides her facial portrait that she was on the short side about 5'3" tall with below the shoulders, blonde hair. He could see to the back of the house which looked to be bedrooms and a kitchen but didn't see her anywhere. He made ano
ther sweep of the vineyard and didn't see her out there. He would have to move onto the property to get a look at the front of the house. He debated taking his rifle with him, but decided he needed to perform surveillance without the weight of the rifle. Besides it was a good way to test the alarm system if there was one and not be caught with a weapon if he triggered some unknown security feature. He stepped on his intended victim's land, and he heard nothing, so he kept moving slowly. Just as he edged around the side of the house, he heard the sound of tires crunching on leaves and looked toward the gate to see a Sheriff's car turning in. Crap! he thought and turned around to run back through the vineyard to his car. He heard the sound of voices and a dog barking from behind him as he reached for his door handle. Seconds later he was belted in and moving down the road at a speed slightly greater than the posted limit.

  When he was about ten miles away from Jill's house he pulled over and heaved a big sigh. He now knew she had some sophisticated security system that was invisible to the average intruder, or the arrival of the Sheriff's car was an extremely unlucky prescheduled event. He also knew he wouldn't be on the red-eye flight to New Orleans as he was going to have to scope this job out and confirm the presence of a security system. He gave some thought about how to detect the presence of a security system and decided to drive on to her property looking for a tasting room or a place to buy wine. Wasn't that what people did in wineries? If a cop showed up while he was there, he'd say he was looking for the tasting room. He would know that the land was wired, and had a silent alarm. Of course he could take a pistol with him and shoot her the moment she opened the door, but that might be caught on camera. Today's exercise would be to assess the cameras and confirm his target. Tomorrow, he would kill her and then as quick as possible head back to the airport and home.

  He waited sixty minutes for the Sheriff to leave and then made the ten-mile drive back to her house. As he approached from the road he could see there was no longer a sheriff's car in her driveway. As he prepared to use his turn signal to turn into her driveway, he noticed the gate was closed and so he carried on past the house looking for another area to spy the house from. He spent another ten minutes driving roads to find a location which according to his map might give him an angle on her property, but he didn't find any. He hated these darn vineyards as they offered no protection to someone wanting to hide in them especially since it was fall and most leaves had dropped off the plants. He wished for some giant corn stalks for cover. He decided to go back to his original site and park along the side of the road. Before he got out, he scanned the area for cameras. He wanted to make sure he'd tripped a security wire at some time upon entering her property and not while he was standing there on the side of a city road. Seeing none, he pulled his baseball cap lower on his face and got out of the car again nearly two hours later from when he last scurried into his car to beat a retreat. Again he looked for cameras and saw none. From behind his glasses he scanned the properties looking for security devices and came up empty. He then moved his gaze to the house where he could see cameras covering several angles. He again pulled out his binoculars and studied the house, but he saw no activity at all and no car in front of the garage where there had once been one. She was gone.