by Jim Riley
"For what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked.
"I want to ask you a few questions."
Slocum nodded and kept his attention on the disappearing crimson liquid before him. His expression was not revealing.
"Do you know Ricky Delrie?"
"If we are to have this conversation, ask questions to which you don't already know the answers. Our meal will be much more enjoyable if you do."
"How long have you known Delrie?"
Slocum considered his answer for some moments before giving her a reply.
"I don't see where that is pertinent to your investigation."
"What do you know about my investigation?"
"Enough."
"Did you kill the stockbroker, Earl Washington, and try to frame Donna?"
Niki saw absolutely no change in Slocum's expression. No tics. No spasms. No tightening of the facial muscles. No nervous movements of his lips.
"I'm not in that business," he answered.
"That's not what I've heard. Your reputation says you are indeed in that business."
"Ahh." A grin crossed the big man's lips. "My reputation. So that's why you stuck your man on my tail."
"No. Not at the beginning."
"I know."
Niki was the one that was now surprised. Slocum had casually admitted he was aware of the bogus call leading her to believe he was involved. Was he bragging? Was he egotistical? Why would he admit that so openly? It took a bit for her to regain her thoughts.
"Why? Why did you get us to follow you?"
"I didn't say I did."
"But you said you know. The only way for you to know is if you participated in the setup."
"That is one conclusion you could draw."
Still no denial. Slocum was unlike any other suspect Niki had ever interviewed. The innocent ones were tense and edgy. The guilty ones were more so, but tried to hide it.
"I guess it will do me no good to ask if you killed LaDonne and Coach Wax?"
The big man smiled and picked up the menu, handing it to the waiter. The college student turned to Niki.
"I'll have the Redfish on a Plank," she said.
"Excellent choice,"
Slocum said nothing to the young man, but Niki noticed him writing down two entrées on his pad.
“Did you kill them?”
"No." Slocum did not change expressions. Niki was a keen observer of people. Most, she could read like a dime-store novel. But with Sleazy, his countenance might as well been written in Cantonese or Urdu. The private investigator had no idea what the big man was hiding behind that mask.
"Did you arrange for someone else to kill Washington, LaDonne, or Wax?"
"No." Same non-expression from Slocum.
"How can I believe you?"
"Not my style. I don't hire out my work. Too many loose ends if I did."
That was the first thing Slocum said Niki knew was the gospel. Nowhere in Slocum's past had there been any mention of using partners or subordinates. He worked alone.
"Do you know Carl King?"
Slocum smiled.
"Do you know LJ Wild?"
Another smile.
"Do you know Doug Nicklaus?"
The smile did not fade.
"How many more people have to die to accomplish whatever is the reason you were hired?" Niki's voice rose.
"I haven't said anyone hired to me. I haven't said I killed anyone."
"You're not denying at."
"Nor should I," he smiled. "That would be bad for business."
"Bad for business you can’t admit you killed a female student?"
"My business is not that different from yours. People hire me to get results. They really don't care how I get to the bottom line, as long as I get there."
The waiter arrived with the entrées. As good as the food was at the best restaurant in Baton Rouge, Niki could not eat the redfish. She lost her appetite.
54
Central
"Where do we go from here?" Donna asked at the impromptu meeting at Wildcat Investigators.
"To the unemployment line if we don't get this puzzle solved," Drexel laughed.
"It's not that bad. We’ll survive. I should get most of my money back when Bailey turns himself in Friday. We won’t be broke." Niki stirred her coffee.
Donna grabbed a second donut, this one with chocolate icing and sprinkles.
"Girl, enjoy that while you're young," Drexel admonished. "A few years from now, every one of those sugar pills will add two pounds to places you don't want to add two pounds."
"Look at Niki," Donna exclaimed, while pointing at the strawberry blonde with her free hand. "She eats them and she weighs the same as she did in high school."
"Only because I work out. Do you know I spend three hours every morning working out?"
"Three hours? Why do you work out that long?"
"Kempo."
"You've mentioned that before," Donna said. "What is it?"
"Martial arts. I spent one hour working on agility and flexibility. We call it the daily dozen. Then I spent another hour with the walking the dog. That's where I practice the different stances we use. Then I spent the last hour against the speed bags and the heavy bag, using my hands and fists on all the offensive and defensive maneuvers. Then I go for a thirty-minute run."
"I'd rather eat three dozen donuts," Donna said. "That sounds like a lot more fun to me." The hourglass blonde grabbed another donut.
"You'll be a lot skinnier if we don't get through this case and move on to another one generating revenue," Drexel laughed.
"We'll make it," Niki said determinedly. "We don't have a choice."
"How do we close this one?" Donna finished the third sugary treat and picked up a fourth filled with chocolate cream.
"We’re down to some basic facts. Flavia Foster is definitely involved. John David Slocum is probably involved. We still don't know who is behind the scenes pulling the strings." Niki said.
"Sleazy won't talk. You tried last night and didn’t get far," Drexel offered.
"I agree," she said. "He's been questioned too many times in too many cases to start making mistakes now. We have to get to him through someone else."
"That only leaves Flavia," Drexel looked at Niki.
"Yep. She is the only definite in this deal. Boy, she was really good the first time I talked to her. I almost believed her story."
"We have to put some pressure on her. I'm not sure how, but we need to apply something that will get her attention." Drexel rubbed his chin.
Donna wiped some chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "I know what might help."
Niki cast a surprised look at her partner as the youngster reached for the box of donuts again.
"You have an idea?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Do what every girl does when she's not sure who the father of the baby is. Get a paternity test."
“Don't we have to wait until the baby is born to do one of those?” Drexel questioned.
"How old are you?" Donna scoffed. "Obviously too old to keep up with modern technology. Have you figured how to get your VCR to quit blinking now that they're obsolete?"
"They are?" Drexel deadpanned.
"You'd be amazed. You can actually do more with the phone than say hello."
"Okay, you two. She is right. We should get a court order since the results could be crucial for our defense." Niki said.
"I wouldn't rush that if I were you," Drexel cautioned. "What if the results are crucial, but not beneficial? That means the cheerleader wasn't the only one getting screwed by your client. You'll be on that slippery slope of no return."
Niki fell silent. What if Billy was lying to her? The paternity test could prove he had relations with an underage student. He would then be found guilty of rape of a minor and all the other charges. He would spend the rest of his life in jail.
55
Central
"We need to talk before I go down a path that will put some pressure on
Flavia to tell the truth." Niki stared at Billy Bailey in his home.
Sara Sue left the house, presumably for an early choir practice at the church. Niki knew there was no practice, but needed to have this discussion with her husband without her there.
Niki saw the fear and dread creeping into the coach's eyes.
"I want to get a court order for a paternity test. I want to prove Flavia's baby isn’t yours."
"Wow. Can we do that?"
"We can and we must. At this point, Flavia will make an extremely sympathetic witness in front of a jury. They will tend to side with her and against you."
Niki watched for a reaction. Bailey did not flinch. Not even a slight indication of hesitance.
"So what are we waiting for? I don't have enough money to pay for one, but I might get a loan against my house."
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. If this test comes out the wrong way, you don't stand a snowball's chance. You realize that, don't you?"
He held Niki's gaze.
"You don't have to worry for a second about that. That baby isn’t mine. It belongs to another man—or boy."
"Are you thinking Steve King?"
"They've been dating for several years. A consensual relationship between teens is not that uncommon. Abortions are tough to get in our conservative state. Flavia would have to come up with a good excuse for being pregnant. That makes sense all around."
"Except I'm not sure she can afford to hire someone like Sleazy Slocum. It takes more than a high school girl’s allowance to get his services."
"How about Steve's dad, Carl? I'm not sure exactly what he does, but I get the impression he makes lots of money."
"I've been to his business. I'm still not sure how he makes money, though I'd bet it is not on the up and up. He was evasive when I asked him about it." Niki said.
"No surprise there. Plus, he adores his son. He will do anything for him."
"Are you sure we won't get the wrong answer when they run the tests?"
"Not unless they run it on the wrong female."
Niki was stunned. She struggled to unwind the meaning of the words Billy had spoken.
"Do you mean—?"
A huge grin crossed the entirety of Billy’s face, answering the question before it was fully asked.
"Congratulations. How is Sara Sue handling the situation?"
"Until last week, she was walking on cloud nine. Now—" Bailey's voice trailed off.
"She knows how to keep a secret. She never said a word to me."
"We want to tell her parents first. I shouldn't have said anything. But it is too much. I sure hope it's a boy."
"Just pray the baby and Sara Sue stay healthy. Who knows? A girl might be playing quarterback for Central High School when she gets there."
"Not if I'm still the coach," Billy said with certainty.
"We need to make sure that happens. We’ll file the motion first thing in the morning."
56
Louisiana State Courthouse
"We object, Your Honor. Why should the victim of the defendant be subjected to an invasive procedure since the reason she is in this condition is because of the defendant?" the prosecutor vehemently opposed Kemp's motion for a paternity test.
"Your Honor, Miss Foster is the alleged victim. We believe this motion will help us prove my client had nothing to do with her present condition." Durwin Kemp was up to his best form.
"How invasive is this procedure?" The judge asked.
"We have an expert in the field. She is in the courtroom, and will be glad to briefly explain the examination and the reliability of the results." Kemp said before the prosecutor could say anything.
The judge nodded and Doctor Brenda Thomas stepped to the microphone.
"What are your qualifications, Doctor Thomas?" The judge asked.
The fiftyish lady with premature gray hair spoke in a clear, crisp voice.
"I am a certified obstetrician, specializing in prenatal care. I have been published in the American Medical Association Journal of Medicine for my research into DNA analysis of the tissues of the unborn."
Doctor Thomas spent another fifteen minutes citing her accomplishments, awards, and peer reviews. She told the judge she had been called as an expert in many trials when the fetus showed some form of irregularity.
She summed up her presentation with a brief sentence, approved prior to the beginning by Kemp.
"The paternity test is a simple procedure, causing the patient no discomfort and very little inconvenience. Through our research, the tests are more than ninety percent accurate. At this point, we do not know of a single inaccurate result."
"Does the prosecution have an objection?" The judge asked, although the tone of the questions suggested such a motion was fruitless.
"No, Your Honor."
"When can the alleged victim be available for the procedure?" The judge asked.
"She will get a break from school around Christmas and New Year's. We can check with her to see if she might be available then. If not, she will have another break in March."
"Your Honor," Kemp stepped back to the microphone. "My client is due back in your court in four more days for you to put him in jail. We believe this test will undermine the entire case against him. We urge the court to schedule the test as soon as possible."
The prosecutor rose quickly. "But Your Honor, the victim should not be inconvenienced by this despicable ploy by the Counselor. She must have the ability to live as normal a life as possible after being victimized by the filthy excuse of a man sitting there."
The judge rapped his gavel. "There are no jurors present. We can refrain from name-calling."
"Your Honor," Kemp spoke. "We can arrange for the alleged victim to be administered the process during her study hall tomorrow. Doctor Thomas has agreed, at our expense, to perform the tests herself. She will have the results by Wednesday morning."
"Your Honor—" The prosecutor yelled.
"Hold your horses, Counselor. I believe the test is vital to both sides, at least the results are." The judge's focus shifted to Kemp. "I assume the results of this procedure will be made available to the prosecutor, even if the results are not favorable to your client."
Kemp swallowed hard. He had discussed this very question with Billy Bailey and Niki prior to the hearing. He warned them they would open a Pandora's box, and would be unable to put the contents back in. The two insisted on going forward despite his objections.
To the judge and the prosecutor, he gave no indication of the doubts he had expressed in private.
"Of course, Your Honor. We will gladly share them with the court and with the prosecutor."
The judge had half a smile. "Why do I get the feeling if the results come out in favor of your client, you will also share them with the media?"
Kemp knew better than respond, but had already put a newspaper reporter on notice.
The judge's frown returned. "By order of the court, Miss Foster will submit to a paternity test no later than the close of school hours tomorrow. The results will be presented to the court no later than Wednesday afternoon."
He hit the gavel and left the room.
57
Blackwater Road
John David "Sleazy" Slocum got another email from his anonymous employer. So far, he had followed the vague instructions, and had a nice new gold bar because of it. For someone like himself, depositing large sums of cash in a checking or savings account was problematic at best. Too much of a paper trail.
His affinity for gold and silver bars was more than a way to dodge the government. These precious metals would never be worth nothing like some dotcom companies he invested in previously.
The emails were from a free email service available to the public. Anyone could create a fictitious identity in less than five minutes. The previous emails were sent from local libraries in Central, Denham Springs, and Zachary. The ones received before were thinly veiled codes. A man of Slocum's background and experie
nce had little trouble deciphering their meaning. Once he implemented the instructions, his favorite dealer of gold and silver called to let him know the reward was ready. Slocum never attempted to identify the anonymous employer from the dealer. He knew, if things got more serious, he had ways of tracking down the source of the emails.
With this new email, things had gotten more serious. The instructions were clear. The payment offered was more than adequate. It was more than Slocum would have asked for in direct negotiations.
The hang–up rested with the nature of the order. Slocum had built a well-deserved reputation as a ruthless advocate on behalf of his clients. But, in the past, Slocum always operated under the guise of surprise and secrecy. With Niki Dupre breathing down his neck, he had neither.
Slocum fixed himself a cherry Dr Pepper. Long ago, he gave up the hard liquor, which would have amazed the people he knew in the early stages of his career. There was something about the soda that calmed him and acted as a catalyst for his thought process.
The big man printed out the email, something he almost never did. He was too cautious about leaving any evidence of his involvement in any matter to risk having a hard copy lying around. This time, however, he rolled the paper around and around as he considered his response.
The instructions also unwittingly gave Slocum another clue to the identity of his client. As he pondered the consequences of following the orders, he knew this would be one of the most challenging jobs he had ever accepted.
58
Central High School
Niki slipped into the head coach's office without being noticed. When Ricky Delrie burst into the room to prepare for the football practice, he stopped short at the sight of the private investigator seated in his chair.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded.
"Taking care of business," Niki responded.
"I have to get ready for practice. We have an important game this Friday."
