by Jon Coon
“My little underwater criminal investigator!” he laughed.
“One other thing, from the dive shop,” Carol said. “I asked Don Lane about Paul. He said Paul has a real aptitude and a great attitude. He even does a good job cleaning bathrooms. He sure didn’t practice that at home,” she laughed. “But I’m just happy he’s finding himself. I’m praying this works.”
“Me too.”
“You promised me we were going to have another chat. Have you forgotten?”
“We’ll get there. Patience is a virtue, remember? I need to feed the dogs. Oh, do you suppose there’s any chance Paul would like to go to church with us on Sunday? We could go out for lunch after.”
“My atheist son? I doubt it, but I’ll ask.”
“Perhaps for free food?” Gabe took her hand.
“Perhaps.” She smiled at him with a tear in the corner of her eye.
CHAPTER 31
0900
Tallahassee
Gray and overcast
The next morning, back at McFarland’s Tallahassee offices with Janna, Bodine’s administrative assistant, Bob continued to ask about the photographs and the smiling, country club faces collected from Bo’s walls and shelves.
“Janna, out of all these guys, who would have been the most likely to be hurt by anything Bo could have told us?”
“If it’s what you think, that there was bid fixing, only the guys at the very top would have known. That would have been Bo and the Conners family. Mitchell has been president for twenty-something years since he married Mary. She’s the principal stockholder.
“Congressman Conners, Mitchell’s brother, used to visit frequently, but when he ran for Congress, he had to give up his interest in the company, at least on paper. That was years ago. But he still spends time here. I think he’s still involved, but no one ever talks about it. Jewels Peterson from the highway department used to visit. He and Bo used to be close, but something changed about a year ago. Bo stopped returning his calls.”
“Bo had a cruise booked with several staterooms. We found the list.” Bob handed it to her. “Do you recognize these folks?”
“All of them,” she said. “I booked that trip for him. Bo played golf with these three every other Friday afternoon,” she put checkmarks beside the names. “These two don’t golf, but they spent time at his club and played cards at least once a month. They were all just really good friends.”
“Good. Are there expense reports and receipts or other documents that would help us prove they spent time together?”
Janna looked out into the hallway through the glass walls of the office. Satisfied they weren’t being watched, she pointed at her phone and then put a hand in back of her ear.
Bob got it. Someone was listening. Then she took a pen and quickly wrote Bo’s computer. Everything.
“I don’t know how long those records are kept,” she said. “I doubt for long, but I’ll look.”
Realizing he might be putting her at risk with his questions, Bob thanked her, and then Gabe touched her shoulder and from his pocket produced Nancy’s ring.
Tears came to Janna’s eyes when she saw the ring. She nodded, and Gabe put it back in his pocket.
“Ten minutes,” she whispered to Bob. “I’ll call you from my car.”
“Thanks very much, Janna. We’ll be in touch,” Bob said, and he and Gabe left her office.
As they walked the hall to the foyer, Bob recognized the tall, nattily groomed blond in expensive clothes and heels clopping across the marble floor toward them. “Excuse me,” she called with authority. “Who are you?”
Bob introduced them and held out his hand. She ignored it. “If you have business with my employees you clear it through me first. You people have caused enough confusion here. I don’t want you upsetting our staff. You come to me. I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“And you are?” Bob asked.
“Catherine Conners, or President Conners, if you prefer.”
“Then Mitchell Conners—”
“Is my father. And CEO, but he’s mostly retired. It’s my show now.”
“Congratulations,” Gabe said with a smile. “It’s quite a show.”
No smile. No acknowledgment.
“We will have questions for you, is it Miss Conners?”
“Make an appointment, and if president is too big a word, Dr. Conners will do. Is that all?”
“For now. We’ll be in touch, Doctor-President Conners,” Gabe said with a down-turned smile.
“Make an appointment.” She turned on her three-inch heels and clip-clopped across the marble floor to the elevator.
Bob looked at Gabe with a smirk. “I guess we’ve been told.”
“I believe we have,” Gabe answered.
Back in the car, Bob waited ten minutes. Janna called as promised, and he put her on speaker so Gabe could hear as well.
“Where did you get the ring?” Janna asked.
“Wilson and Nancy were murdered. We found their bodies on a workboat crushed under the old bridge. What can you tell me about her relationship with Bo?”
“Poor baby, when there was no word, we always suspected the worst.” Janna sounded like she was trying not to cry. “Nancy and Bo were both strong-willed. She loved Wilson, but there was something going on between Bo and Wilson. I never knew what it was about, but Bo was furious with him. If Wilson had discovered something about the company, he might have threatened Bo to get him off their backs. Or Nancy might have been the one who had the leverage. She was aggressive and quite mature for her age.
“That’s what got her in trouble with Wilson,” Janna continued. “She went after him. And of course he didn’t put up a fight. She was gorgeous, and, like I said, she loved him.”
Gabe smiled and nodded. “Was the trouble between them enough that Bo would have had a hand in her death?”
“Oh, no,” Janna said. “He would never have intentionally hurt her. All those years thinking she had just left and wondering if it was his fault. At first he blamed Wilson. He even hired a British investigator to find them, but as time passed he believed it must have been Conners, or someone Conners gave orders to. The files he was building—he was trying to prove it and at the least ruin the family.”
“We just met Conner’s daughter in the lobby. Tell us about her,” Bob said.
“Catherine’s cold. She’s all business, smart, but it’s going to be a sad day when she takes over. She’d replace us all with computers if she could. She thinks they make better employees. Seniority and loyalty are not concepts she understands. All that matters to her is this week’s profit and loss statement.”
“Could she have been in on the bidding fraud?” Gabe asked.
“I doubt it. She hasn’t been here long enough. She’s been in those fancy business schools in New England. Wants us to call her Dr. Conners.”
“So she told us. Janna, what about you? Are you going to be safe here?”
“Do I still belong here? No, it’s time for me to go. All the people I cared about are gone. I have grandchildren who need my attention. Once I leave I’ll be fine. Until then I’ll be safe. I’m just an old woman whose time has come and gone. Who would want to hurt me? But there is one thing. Just before he died Bo told me he thought they were listening to our calls and reading our email. I’d been helping Bo gather material he called insurance. If they found out, well it might explain what happened.”
“Janna, that could definitely be enough to put you in danger,” Bob said. “There are a lot of loose ends in this story. We’re going to need your help to tie them up. And you would be a powerful witness when this goes to court. If you’re willing to testify.”
“If it will help catch the ones who killed Bo and Nancy, you can count on me. They were family.”
“Good, then I want you to have security until this is over,” Bob added, “I’ll set that up today.”
“Janna, one last question,” Gabe asked. “What kind of computer did Bo have
?”
CHAPTER 32
2200
The River
Clearing skies
Gabe and Carol returned that night to the boat with a body bag. On the way through the gate the security guard Gabe had asked to keep the crime scene secure stopped them. “I kept an eye on that boat, like you asked. No one’s messed with it. Not on my watch.”
Gabe thanked him and drove back over to the beached workboat. He and Carol pulled on their dry suits and gloves, Gabe got the pouch with the body bag, and they dropped down into the boat cabin.
“Stinks,” Carol said. “Let’s get this done.”
She helped Gabe recover Nancy’s bones and carefully place them in the body bag. “She was only nineteen?”
“That’s what Janna said.”
It took an hour. Gabe zipped the bag and climbed out through the port window. Carol handed the straps up to him. He lifted the bag out and lowered it over the stern. He laid it in the trunk and said a silent prayer, a blessing of sadness, as he closed the hatch. They drove an hour to the river camp, past where the house had been down to the water’s edge by the meadow.
“Do you want to come in the water? It’s only about ten feet deep, and there’s not much current,” he invited.
“Sure, I want to meet her,” Carol answered.
Back into the dry suits, Gabe helped her into her new gear. “Do you want to stick with a regulator or try the Aga mask?”
“I didn’t buy this thing to leave it in the box. I’ll be okay. Don Lane gave me a briefing at the dive shop.”
Equipment check, mask check, final okay, and they started down. There was more visibility here than in the mighty Chattahoochee, and Gabe imagined Carol, in her new, well-fitted suit and thick underwear, found the cold water refreshing, not freezing. They settled on the bottom. Gabe opened the body bag but didn’t remove any of Nancy’s remains. He paused for prayer, gave Carol an okay, which she returned.
“Nancy Bodine, awake!”
Light surrounded them, and as with Wilson and the others, bright, wispy light rose over Nancy’s remains and formed the image of a beautiful young woman.
“Nancy?” Gabe began. “We don’t have a lot of time, and we need your help.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “And where is Wilson? Where are we?”
“We’re friends. We had to move you, but don’t worry. He’s waiting. We know the bridge fell on your boat. Wilson had a briefcase. He told us you hid it for him.”
“He was supposed to go up on the bridge to check something. I think it was the counterweights on the lift span. They called him.” She halted abruptly and shuddered. “The span hit us before we got out of the cabin. So fast. Not even a breath. It just crushed us to the bottom.”
Gabe gave her a moment to refocus then asked, “Do you remember who called him?”
“The state guy, Peterson.”
“What about the briefcase?” Light was rising around them as her escorts became visible.
“Wilson gave it to me before we got to the bridge. He told me to hide it . . . I put it in the anchor chain locker.”
“Good, now, what can you tell me about your dad and Jewels Peterson?”
“I loved my dad, but he got into that mess with Peterson and couldn’t get out. Peterson was greedy, always pushing my dad for more money. I hope you catch him.”
“It’s done. We got him. I’m sorry about your dad. He’s gone too.”
“What about Wyatt, my brother?”
“Brother? No, we don’t know,” Gabe answered. The light became more intense. Nancy reached out to him, touching him gently on the shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “Can I go to Wilson now?”
“Nancy, one more question. Do you think your dad knew you were on the boat?”
She thought before answering. “I don’t think so. We argued, but he would never have hurt me. The boat belonged to Wilson’s company. We were going to cruise the river after Wilson’s meeting, so I made lunch. We didn’t get to—What’s that light? It’s beautiful.”
“They’re here for you,” Gabe said. “Wilson is waiting.”
“Oh, they’re for me? They’re beautiful!”
Now she was encircled in the glowing wings of her angels; her countenance was taking on their radiance. Carol took Gabe’s arm as she watched in awe. The light increased to an uncomfortable intensity. Gabe and Carol covered their eyes, and then it was gone. They were left in the darkness, holding each other, happy to be together.
The body bag felt lighter as Gabe carried it back to the riverbank. He remembered reading research stating that at the moment of death a measurable weight leaves the body, and the authors suggested the weight of a soul could actually be measured. Gabe had seen some souls heavy enough to sink their hosts straight to hell, but this was not the case. Nancy Bodine and Wilson Corbitt made it safely home, and while their deaths were sad, their going home together was something to celebrate.
As they walked back to the cruiser holding hands, moonbeams pierced the clouds. From the shadows a jealous coyote bewailed his loneliness. Gabe spread a blanket on the grass.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said as he unzipped the back zipper of her drysuit. She pulled the neck seal off, over her head. “I’m praying it can be ours.”
“Me too,” he answered as he turned for her to return the favor of unzipping his suit. “How was the new underwear?” he asked.
“Is that a question you should be asking a girl?”
“If the girl’s a diver, it’s okay,” he grinned. “So were you warm enough?”
“For the first dive of my life, I was almost too warm. It was wonderful.” She unzipped her polar fleece jumpsuit revealing the heavy lycra pull-over beneath. “Now I can breathe,” she laughed. They sat on the blanket, watching and listening, taking a moment to consider their interaction with the departed spirit and the life it represented.
“Hear the owl?” he asked. It was soft, away in the trees. Soon its call was returned from miles down the river.
“Okay, let’s talk.”
“You planned this?”
“Yep, it’s time.” They lay back on the blanket, looking at the reflections of the moon and stars on the water. “There are reasons I never married, and they’re hard for me to talk about. I told you my folks are dead. That’s not quite true. My mother is. My dad’s in prison for killing her.”
“Oh, Gabe, that’s awful.” She sat up abruptly.
“It is. He was an abusive drunk. He’d hit the bars on the way home from his two-week shift offshore and blow most of his paycheck. He came home drunk again that night. They fought, and he beat her to death.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I tried to stop him. He came after me. I think he would have killed me too, but I hit him as hard as I could with his whiskey bottle. He went down and didn’t get up. I called the cops.” Gabe looked off into the clear sky, remembering that awful night. “I’ve got a temper, but I never knew how dangerous it could be until that night. I wanted to kill him. I still don’t understand why I didn’t.”
“Because you’re nothing like him.” She grabbed his arm, her face distorted in concern.
“I’ve always been afraid booze might trigger that anger in me again, or something worse. That’s why I hardly ever drink. It’s like living with a bad dog in a cage. If you can’t control him, don’t let him out.”
“But, you just said it was self-defense.”
“Oh, I stopped the fight, but I was too late to save my mom. The most important thing a man can do is protect the ones he loves. I couldn’t do it.”
“Gabe, no. You were only a kid, younger than Paul. You couldn’t—”
“I was the only one who could have saved her. I didn’t, and that’s all that matters. There’s more, Carol,” He took both her hands in his and held tightly. “I should have been there for Charlie, and I wasn’t. I failed him just like—”
“Don’t say that. You weren’t there. There was nothing you could ha
ve done except get killed with him.” Tears were running down her face.
“He was my partner. No matter what I should have been there.” He released her hands and wiped her tears.
“Growing up I was afraid that if I cared about someone, the same thing would happen. Trouble would come, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. What if I had my dad’s temper? What if I lashed out at my kids the way he did at me?”
“I’ve never seen you lose it. There’s not a mean bone in your body.”
“I’m not so sure. Splitting logs helps, but maybe I just haven’t been pushed hard enough yet.”
“I don’t believe that at all. I know you. I’ve known you for years. You’re a good man, Gabriel Jones. And there’s nothing about you that will make me think differently.”
“Jones. That’s not my real name.”
“What?”
“There was a lot of publicity about Mom’s murder. The court agreed to let me change my name to protect me from it while I was in the orphanage. I liked the Indiana Jones movies, so Jones was the first thing that came to mind . . .”
“What was it? Your real name?”
“Boudreaux, it’s an old Cajun name.”
“It’s a beautiful name. Perhaps one day you’ll reclaim it. Gabriel Boudreaux.” She kissed his cheek gently.
He didn’t argue, but he knew he would never be Gabriel Boudreaux again. He wanted no part of his father’s name or legacy. He took a deep breath as though preparing for a dive and continued, “Okay, here’s the rest. I haven’t told you what happened in New Orleans. The aftermath of Katrina was the worst I’ve ever seen. So much death. Over eighteen hundred died, and seventy percent of them in Orleans parish where we were working. A lot were old. They didn’t have a chance, but they had lived, you know? They’d had life. Then as the water started going down a chopper spotted the roof of a bus. We took a boat to check it out.”
“A bus?”
He nodded, his gaze distant for a moment. “Probably trying to get out too late, caught in the flooding. It was two weeks after the storm, and bodies were decomposing. It was bad. I went into the bus first. It was half full of dead kids.
