Murder & Billy Bailey

by Jim Riley

  The prosecutor shifted her weight, realizing her entire career may have taken a fatal blow. She nodded, but said nothing out loud.

  "Madam Prosecutor, you among all people, know that an answer must be verbalized to be recorded by the court reporter. Do you understand my instructions?"

  See again nodded meekly. "Yes, Your Honor. We will submit the entire conversation without edits."

  He continued to glare at her.

  "I was prepared to revoke the bail and remand the defendant into custody. However, because I do not appreciate shenanigans of any sort, I will release the defendant for seven days."

  He then addressed Coach Bailey directly.

  "I will personally review the outline of the case against you including the phone call. If I think it is sufficient to find you are a threat to our community, I will put you into custody."

  The judge then addressed both sides.

  "You will both be in my court at this time one week from today. I will give you my decision then. In the meantime, the defendant is released on the standing bail. I suggest that he prepare himself for a lengthy incarceration."

  The prosecutor frowned. Durwin Kemp frowned. Billy Bailey grinned from ear to ear. Niki did not know whether to frown or grin. She was happy for the short-term victory, but feared the implication for the period after the following week.

  44

  Central High School

  Jimbo Wax was elated. He prepared to act as head coach of the Central Wildcats against the Denham Springs Yellow Jackets on his home field. The game presented the first opportunity for the assistant coach to lead a team he could call his own on the battleground. The game prompted more excitement because it was against one of Central's most hated rivals.

  The team finished the pregame meal consisting of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with bags of potato chips. The meal was a long-standing tradition for the Wildcats football team.

  Jimbo could not relax. He went from player to player, imparting encouragement and reminding each of his part in the overall game plan. Before long, he had visited with every player and assistant coach.

  He moved to the coach’s office to reflect and regain the composer required to coach the Wildcats in such an important game.

  Jim walked into Billy's office and sat behind his boss's desk. He did not bother to turn on the light, preferring the darkness. The vacuum allowed him to concentrate on the task ahead.

  Jimbo reviewed the first five scripted plays on offense in his mind when the phone rang. At first, the assistant coach did not know whether or not to answer it. It was the line of the head coach. He opted to pick it up.

  "Hello," he tried to sound confident.

  "Coach?"

  "Yes, this is Coach Wax. Who is this?"

  "It doesn't matter. You need to listen."

  "I'm listening," Wax turned red with anger.

  "I don't need an attitude, Coach. You are in this up to your neck."

  "Up to what?" Wax asked.

  "You know what. I want you to know you will not go unscathed. You will pay for your involvement in this," the voice said.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about." Wax was now more than angry.

  "Of course you do. Think about it," the voice on the other end was quiet after saying that.

  "Hello. Hello." Jimbo yelled into the phone. His mind was no longer on the football game.

  45

  Central High School

  Niki and Sara Sue attended the football game. Sara Sue went because Billy insisted she go. He wanted a first-hand account of the event, not from a second view. In spite of all his troubles, the coach still cared about his team.

  Niki had a different agenda. She wanted to keep an eye on the major participants in the investigation. To her surprise, Carl King and LJ Wild sat together. Carl’s son, Steve, had been the starting quarterback before Billy arrived at Central.

  LJ Wild's son was cut from the team, a move by Billy Bailey to allow the most athletic players to get the reps in practice. An argument ensued, followed by a brief physical altercation. LJ was knocked to the ground after taking a swing at the coach.

  Niki found it suspicious those two parents happened to sit next to one another. She saw Wild point to one of the players warming up on the field. She saw the number on the jersey and referred to the game program. She placed a quarter–page advertisement for her company in it weekly, not that the ad would generate much business. It was her way of giving back to the school.

  The players that LJ pointed to was listed as Bert Wild. To her astonishment, it was apparent that Jimbo had reinstated LJ’s son to the team, despite his proclamation that Bert was not a good player.

  Niki watched Flavia Foster during the pregame activities. The athletic cheerleader acted as she did not have a care in the world. She jumped, pranced, and performed somersaults the investigator would have been proud to accomplish when she was cheering on the same sideline during her high school years.

  Jimbo looked distracted. He ambled among the Wildcats team without much encouragement. Several times, Niki saw him scanning the bleachers, searching for someone. His eyes briefly settled on Niki and Sara Sue, but the acting coach quickly averted his gaze.

  Ricky Delrie was helping the varsity. Niki wondered why Jimbo would promote Delrie with the case against Billy still pending. This was another move that Bailey would not have made.

  Steve King walked over to Flavia and gave her a quick peck on her cheek. He was all smiles and full of energy. He ran through the warm–ups with the first string players.

  Before the game started, the announcer asked for a moment of silence for LaDonne Elgin. Her father, Adam walked to the center of the field. After a few seconds, he addressed the crowd with a handheld microphone.

  "My daughter loved this school. She loved this field. She loved her classmates. LaDonne was happy until someone came to the school and dishonored her. Then he killed her. I ask you to support her memory by supporting justice. There can be no closure, no peace, until there is justice."

  He walked off, staring at Sara Sue Bailey during the entire trip to the sidelines. Billy's wife maintained her outward composure, but Niki could see her hands trembling. The private investigator had her arm around the coach's wife.

  The game began. The Central Wildcats accepted the kickoff and returned it to the thirty-one yard line. On the first offensive play from scrimmage, Steve King attempted a short sideline pass to a wide receiver.

  A Yellow Jacket cornerback cut in front of the wideout and snatched the ball out of the air. The only things separating him from the end zone were green grass and yard markers. Central was down by touchdown before the Denham Springs offense ran a play.

  Groans erupted from the fans. Niki glanced at Carl King to see his reaction. Her gaze froze, not from King's reaction, but because of the occupant in the seat next to him on the other side of LJ Wild.

  A big man, around six foot three inches and a little less than two hundred fifty pounds, was idly watching. The other spectator was not fazed by the interception and return. Niki gazed at the elusive Sleazy Slocum.

  Then another person sat next to Slocum. It was none other than Adam Elgin, the father of the slain cheerleader. He spoke briefly to Slocum and patted him on the shoulder.

  Niki's mind went into overdrive considering the full gamut of possibilities. All three parents were at least familiar with Slocum. All three had reasons to encourage Billy's downfall. It seemed difficult to believe that the elusive Slocum was there simply to root for the Wildcats.

  The game itself did not go well for the home team. Steve King threw four interceptions and fumbled twice during the rout by the Yellow Jackets. Most of the fans left during the third quarter. When Niki glanced again at Slocum, he had once again disappeared.

  After the game, Niki and Sara Sue walked to the Ford SUV among whispering and pouting from the few remaining fans. They did not speak to each other on the way to the parking lot. Niki hit the open button on th
e keypad and then sucked in her breath.

  "Good evening," Sleazy said, as he stepped from behind her vehicle.

  Niki's hand instinctively went to the small of her back, but then remembered leaving the thirty-eight revolver under the seat of the Explorer. She quickly scanned the big man for weapons.

  A bulge on his right hip suggested he was carrying. She also saw a protrusion from his right ankle suggesting a backup weapon. Her advantage was that both guns were holstered, and she could close the small distance between them before he could draw and fire. To be sure, she advanced another step forward toward the big man.

  He took a step toward her, leaving only two feet of separation. Niki smiled, now confident.

  "Easy, Miss Dupre. I am here to talk. Nothing else." Slocum’s hands came up, his palms out.

  Niki relaxed. "Talk."

  "Call your dogs off. You're wasting your time and mine. Besides that, you're hindering my activities." He dropped his hands.

  "If your activities involve killing young girls, then I hope I continue to hamper them."

  Her muscles again tensed when Slocum's hand neared the gun on his hip.

  "You are making a mistake. If I wanted to kill someone, I could've taken out your detective during his poor attempt to track me. You might tell him not to leave his vehicle unattended. You never know when someone might leave a parcel in it that would make it go boom. That would be most unfortunate."

  "Is that a threat, Slocum?"

  "No. Just an observation."

  "Let me tell you something." There was steel in Niki's voice. "If something happens to Drexel Robinson, there isn't a snake hole on this earth where you will be safe. I will find you."

  Slocum smiled and disappeared behind the SUV. Then Niki realized the amount of tension in her body. She wanted to hit something. Someone. She wanted to hit Sleazy Slocum.

  46

  Central

  "That's about it," Niki finished telling Billy Bailey about her observations at the ballgame.

  "He actually started Steve? What in the world was he thinking?" Billy set a cup of coffee on the table.

  Niki leaned back in her chair. "Of all the things I've told you, that is what got your attention? Not the fathers sitting together? Not Flavia? Not Slocum? You focused on the starting quarterback?"

  "Sorry, but that is a poor decision by any stretch of the imagination. It's not Steve's fault. He just isn't ready to start." Billy shook his head in wonderment.

  "Hello. Do you understand that if I don't come up with something before a week from today, the judge is sending you to jail? Can we focus on that instead of who is reaching under the center's butt?"

  The coach picked up the cup again. "I'm sorry, but I think first as a coach. The rest of the stuff will take care of itself. I've got the best detective in Louisiana on my side."

  Niki looked at him with unbelieving eyes.

  "I wish I shared your confidence. Somebody doesn't want you coaching."

  Billy smiled. He put the cup down and picked up a saucer loaded with a piece of pecan pie. "See, you've already figured out the why. Now you've just got to figure out the who."

  “It seems like we've got a pretty large list of people.”

  Bailey savored a bite of the succulent dessert.

  "Not really. From what you told me, it seems fairly obvious you've narrowed the list to three parents and two coaches."

  "And one thug that may be better than me," Niki retorted.

  Another bite from the delicacy.

  "Slocum? He's not the driver in the plot. He's only the tool."

  "A high-powered tool. Somebody is paying him a lot of money. He doesn't come cheap."

  Bailey laughed.

  "Then I would concentrate on the dad's. Coaches, especially assistant coaches, don't make a lot of money in high school. We can barely afford cable TV, much less hire a man like Slocum."

  Sara Sue placed another piece of pecan pie on Billy's saucer.

  "Do you really think someone hired the Slocum guy to do all this dirty work?" She asked.

  Niki let out a long sigh. "I don't know any other way to read it. I'm not sold on the idea, but it's the one that makes the most sense with the little bit of evidence we have."

  "Why would he do it? We don't even know him, and he doesn't know us."

  "Money," Niki answered. "A guy like Sleazy Slocum will do anything for money. It takes a hardhearted man to take the life of an innocent teenage girl."

  Billy pause between bites.

  "She wasn't innocent. I didn't grope her, and she said I did."

  Niki nodded. "Point taken, but she was still a teenager. I suspect her good friend, Flavia, talked her into doing this, and she wasn't comfortable with it. That is why she had to be eliminated."

  "Speaking of that, you left out Miss Foster and Steve King as suspects," Billy said.

  "True. I'm not sure they have the wherewithal to hire Slocum."

  Billy set the saucer down. "If he is hired? If not, those two kids could have set all this up."

  "I don't think so. Those photographs were done by a professional," Niki said.

  Bailey agreed. "You're describing Steve King. He learned from the best. Carla is one of the premier photographers in Baton Rouge."

  "Carla?" Then Niki understood. "C. King. I assumed it stood for Carl, not Carla. So she wasn't lying after all."

  "Huh?" Billy Bailey and Sara Sue were stumped.

  "Oh, nothing. I asked Carla if her husband took those wildlife pictures at their house. She told me he didn't and I assumed she wasn't telling the truth."

  Billy sat forward. "Steve is perfectly capable. I remember he took a picture of the cheerleaders, then inserted the coaches' heads in place of the girls. Everyone got a big kick out of it."

  Niki's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me this before now?"

  Billy frowned. "Why? Is it important?"

  47

  Central High School

  Jimbo Wax finished watching the unedited film of the game. He knew he had screwed up. He should not have started Steve King. He should not have called the pass plays that required a stronger arm than Steve possessed.

  Jimbo let the bus carrying the players leave without him. Because the field was adjacent to the old junior high school, and not the high school, the bus was required even though it was only an eight-minute ride. The acting coach addressed the team in the locker room, but did not mention the misgivings he had about the game plan.

  Now, he sat alone in the quiet locker room. The disgruntled fans had departed like rats on a sinking ship. Wax had to admit that his ship was taking on water, if not sinking.

  He thought about the upcoming game a week ahead against the Live Oak Eagles. The Wildcats possessed superior athletes, giving him the advantage of speed, power, and quickness. Thinking about it, he smiled. He could imagine no scenario resulting in a second loss.

  Then the assistant coach heard the door creaked open to the old facility.

  "Did y'all forget something?" He hollered, expecting a response from another coach or a trainer. They were always leaving a piece of equipment behind.

  The shot grazed the back of his head only because he turned at the last second. Wax heard the lead slam into the locker behind him. The coach went through a momentary stage of shock before the realization hit him like an ice-cold shower. Someone was trying to kill him.

  The second shot tore through his jacket and ripped the fleshy part of his upper arm. Wax yelled out, not so much from the pain, but from the severity of the situation.

  He turned and sprinted forward toward the old showers, cinderblock units no longer used by the team. The pipe and shower heads were brown with rust. Green mold covered each stall.

  Thinking quickly, Jimbo climbed up on top of the third shower and pushed his body tight against the outer wall, giving him limited cover. He heard the heavy footsteps entering the locker room. He cringed, knowing there would be no escape if he was discovered.

  The sh
ooter fumbled around in the dark, unfamiliar with the old facilities. Jimbo heard the clanking and clanging as benches and lockers were bumped. He twisted, trying to figure a way out of the trap. If the shooter turned on the lights, his position would be quickly uncovered.

  The shooter reached the small hallway leading to the showers. Jimbo heard a scrape of a shoe or boot on the concrete floor only ten feet away. Wax thought of the things he would never get to do in life. Kids. Vacations. Better coaching opportunities. Leading the LSU Tigers to another national championship. That was his ultimate dream.

  Then he heard the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his lifetime. A police siren pierced through the night air, penetrating the tranquil peace over Wildcat stadium.

  The shooter bolted for the door, knocking over the benches and chairs between the showers and the exit. A broad grin crossed Jimbo's countenance despite the burning pain in his shoulder.

  Wax struggled down and stumbled to the open door, where he stepped outside. He saw the fleeting shadow of a figure disappear into the woods at the east end of the stadium. He knew the thin strip of trees contained a fishing pond with a road leading to the highway. The shooter probably had a vehicle stowed away.

  He looked toward the road only to see the police car speed right on by, paying no attention to the dark athletic facility. It was not responding to the shots fired within the locker room. Jimbo did not care at this point. The siren had saved his life.

  Now he tried to figure out who wanted to kill him.

  48

  Central

  "Somebody tried to kill me," Jimbo told Niki, his arm bandaged in a sling.

  Niki took one of the unattractive chairs in the small hospital room.

  "So why call me?" The private investigator asked.