by Jim Riley
"That's right, Your Honor. We believe the evidence, when we get it, will support that theory."
"So you don't know what the evidence will tell you?"
"We have a good idea, Your Honor."
"It seems to me a parallel theory could also be postulated. Why does the evidence not say the key witness faked her own death and then disappeared to avoid the tests? Why is it impossible that she did not murder the defendant?"
"Your Honor," the prosecutor scrambled. "We are sure the evidence, when gathered, will refute that possibility."
"What you are telling me, Counselor, is you don't know diddly squat without the crime scene reports. And yes, before you start filing appeals, diddly squat is an accurate description in my court."
"I must object, Your Honor."
"Good for you. Objection denied. I order an extension of the hearing for one additional week. That both sides will have ample opportunity to obtain and review the necessary reports from our Police Department. Any questions?"
"Your Honor," the prosecutor did not want to give up easily. "The people believe this will set such an egregious precedent for future cases. I asked Your Honor to take a moment to carefully consider the dire ramifications of such an order before he makes it final."
"Big words like egregious and dire ramifications do not impress me, Counselor. Evidence impresses me and you seem to have a dire shortage of that in my courtroom."
The prosecutor whispered into her assistant's ear. He merely shrugged, having no quick answers for his boss.
The judge turned his attention to the defendant’s table.
"Mr. Kemp."
"Yes, Your Honor." Durwin answered.
"I don't want to be made a fool. If I find any shenanigans on behalf of the defense, I will not be happy."
"Yes, Your Honor. I assure you that you will find no conduct unbecoming the court on our side."
"Good," the judge responded. "Unless you find out where your client, yes, I will revoke bail at the hearing a week from Friday. Just so we're clear as to what I mean, your client will relinquish all funds and assets he put up for bail at that time unless he is seated in the chair next to you or found dead. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Durwin stated.
Niki, sitting in the first row behind Durwin Kemp, wanted to go outside and throw up again. Then she barely caught a movement in the back of the courtroom, which made her inhale sharply.
A figure glided out of the door like a ghost. It was large. Ominous. Threatening. It was the shadowy figure of John David "Sleazy" Slocum.
75
Atchafalaya Basin
Billy Bailey woke with a start. The last thing the football coach remembered was being in his own garage with a hand wrapped around his face. Now, he was in a small bed in a room he had never seen before.
"Thought you'd never wake up," the feminine voice floated through the air.
"Huh? What?" Billy tried to focus his blurry eyes on the source of the sound.
"I was beginning to worry about you," the girl stated.
His eyes gained clarity, enough to make out the face of Flavia Foster. Of all the people in the world he did not expect to see in the same room, the cheerleader was at the top of the list.
"Where are we?" He asked, though his mouth fell like it was full of dirt.
"Somewhere in a swamp. I can't tell you exactly where."
"How did I get here?"
"Probably the same way I did," Flavia answered. "All I know is I heard a boat come up to the camp sometime after midnight. Then it left. When I opened the door, you were laying on the porch."
She handed Billy a bottle of water. He drank almost the whole thing in one gulp. Then he was wide awake.
“How did I get into bed?” He asked.
"I put you there. Actually, I kinda dragged you there. You helped a little."
"I don't remember."
“Don't worry,” Flavia smiled. “I don't remember my trip either.”
"You're supposed to be dead."
"I guess someone forgot to tell the fellow that put me here. At least for now, anyway."
"Gee," Billy rubbed his head. "Your car blew up. There was blood everywhere. Everybody thinks the worst."
"I'm sure some people are hoping for that to happen. I guess I really can't blame them."
Billy noticed the bandage taped to the inside of his elbow for the first time. When he peeled it off, a needle mark with a bit of bruising was revealed.
"Do you know anything about this?" Billy asked while pointing at the needle mark.
"Nope." Flavia replied. "I was more concerned with you continuing to breathe. Everything else was kinda secondary."
"Don't you want me dead? Isn't that why you made up the stories about me?"
"No." Flavia stood and walked to the small window overlooking the swamp. "I know you probably won't believe this, but I had no choice."
76
Wildcat Investigations
"What do we do now?" Niki asked.
Drexel glanced at Donna before volunteering an answer. "We need to find Billy or you will be out some serious cash in a little over a week."
Niki slammed her hand on the desk. Anger perforated the space between the trio. Her eyes fired darts at both Drexel and Donna.
"Why did I trust him? I'm the biggest fool in Central."
"It's not your fault, Miss Niki," Donna tried to calm her down. "We all believed he was innocent."
"He fooled us all. No matter what the judge said, I don't believe Flavia staged her own death, then somehow murdered Billy without a trace. That didn't happen."
"Why did he bend over backwards to help him out?" Drexel asked. "Does he owe you a favor or something?"
"You’ve got me," Niki responded. "Durwin was more surprised than the prosecutor. He said the ruling came out of left field. He thinks we should all go down to the boats and try our luck at the blackjack tables while we’re on a hot streak."
"It was odd. You have to admit that," Drexel offered.
"Two odd. Something is going on behind the scenes we know nothing about."
"What do you think it is?" Donna asked.
"I have no idea. But I've got a feeling I know who does."
"Not him," Drexel groaned.
"Yep," Niki glared. "Sleazy Slocum was in that courtroom this morning. I don't think he just happened to be passing by."
77
Zachary
"Why were you in the courthouse this morning?" Niki demanded as soon as Slocum opened the door.
"And hello to you too," Slocum responded.
“I don't have a lot of time for civility.”
“Billy is missing or dead. Someone you said you cared for is missing or dead. Why do I think you know more than your telling?”
"Come in. I'd rather have this discussion in the privacy of my home with you if don't mind."
The large man walked directly to his favorite recliner without looking back. Niki had no choice but to follow him. She remained standing instead of taking a seat.
"Why were you there?" She demanded again.
“I was in the neighborhood. I wanted to get up to date on the case. As you said, I care for Flavia.”
"I don't believe you. Why would you be in the area?"
"I like to collect rare mental." Slocum took a sip of cherry Dr Pepper. "Sometimes I collect my fees in that form. I had a payment due from a client this morning."
"Would that be a payment for the disappearance of Billy Bailey?"
"Just like you," Slocum smiled. "I keep the confidentiality of my clients at all times. I can't discuss the details of my contribution to my client's cause."
"I'd be willing to bet that was the second time you've been paid this week. Why don't admit it?"
"I collect fees for my accomplishments. You can charge by the hour whether you're making progress in a case or not. I have to produce results to get paid."
Niki could not believe this man was telling her this. This w
as more open than he had ever been with anyone, including his wife and daughter. She wondered why.
"What results did you get to be paid off in gold and silver?"
"It all depends on your point of view."
"That's double talk. You're being open with me. Why can’t you tell me everything?"
"Time heals all wounds. As the Good Book says, there is a season for all things. Your understanding will grow with time."
"I like straight talk, not fortune cookie phrases. Talk to me in terms I can understand."
"Niki, sometimes your friends are your enemies. Sometimes your enemies are your friends. Only the facts, when revealed, will tell you which one is your enemy and which one is your friend."
"Sleazy, you've never been anyone's friend. All of your life, you've played the game only to benefit yourself."
"That's true." Slocum took another sip of soda. "I don't apologize for the things I've done."
"Did you have anything to do with that weird ruling this morning?"
"That doesn't really matter, does it? The important thing is that you won and now you have time to solve this poser."
Niki studied Slocum’s facial features. He would have made a great poker player. He gave nothing away with his stoic expressions.
“Okay,” she said. “Let's assume you rigged the hearing. The judge owed you some kind of favor. Now I have to ask why you wanted to give me more time.”
"Maybe you know something I need to know. Since you believe I helped you, then you might be willing to help me."
"I don't know," Niki hesitated. "I try to keep my cases aboveboard and legit. I'm not sure you do the same."
"It is justice we both seek?"
"Yours or mine?"
"In this case," Slocum replied, "let's assume it is one and the same."
"So you want me to find out who molested Flavia? You don't think it was Billy, do you?"
"The important thing is for you to discover the truth. You are in a much better position to have the legal system bring justice than me."
Niki believed the underworld figure. Something about his tone, his demeanor, his eyes, told her he was now on her side. She was also certain he had taken some action that might be frowned upon by the authorities.
"What is it you want from me?" Niki asked, though she feared hearing the answer.
"I need the truth. The simple truth."
"If I can, I will tell you the truth. As long as it doesn't break the confidentiality of my client."
"Fair enough. The question I have for you has nothing to do with Billy Bailey."
Now Niki was truly concerned. She knew what was coming, but helpless to prevent it. Sleazy Slocum was not about to ask a question as the shadowy figure supported by his reputation. He was about to ask a question as a father.
“Go ahead, but I don't want to disclose anything someone close to you said either.”
Slocum’s smile froze on his face. It generated more cruelty than friendliness. "I'll ask the question. If the answer is yes, then you say nothing. If the answer is no, then you can tell me."
"But I—"
Slocum held a hand out. There would be no further discussion of the terms of the question.
"Is Ricky Delrie molesting my daughter or has he been in the last few months?"
Niki tried to figure out some way out of answering the question. She came up with nothing.
"Thank you, Miss Dupre." Slocum leaned back in the recliner. "You have answered the question to my satisfaction."
"But that's not fair. I didn't say anything. How am I to know what is going on in your daughter's life?"
"Niki, Niki," Slocum gave a clicking sound. "Your weakness is your honesty. You want people to believe in you and trust you. I am not constrained by those sensitivities."
"Hold on." Niki stepped closer to him. "Don't go and do something stupid because I didn't say anything. I don't need that on my conscience."
"Whatever happens next would have nothing to do with you. As we spoke before, we are both seeking the same thing. Justice."
"But my kind of justice is within the system of government. My kind of justice is legal. I'm not sure yours is."
"I suppose," Slocum began, "that's something dreadful happened to Miss Cross, your partner. Would you stay within your strict constraints to ensure you would see her again?"
"That's not fair. You've given me an extreme hypothetical. Nothing has happened to Donna."
Slocum smiled. "Not yet."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Only that we cannot protect the ones we love from every circumstance."
"Listen." Niki moved to right in his face. "If you know something about to happen to Donna, I want to know. This may be a big game to you, but it's not to me."
"The way you can help your friend is to solve the case."
"Do you know who is behind this?"
"I—" Slocum hesitated. "Let's say I have a clue, but I'm not in a position to reveal what I know."
"You—" Niki turned red, boiling with rage. Then she settled down. What good would flying off the handle do at this point? She opted for a different approach. "How do you suggest I figure out what you know? How do I get there from here?"
"Go back to the beginning," Slocum said. "Go back to the very beginning."
78
Central
"Hey, it's Niki."
"What are you doing out this time of night? I thought all you old-timers went to bed at dark," Donna laughed.
"I'm not that much older than you. You're confusing me with Drexel."
"I get all you old geezer's mixed up. You all sound the same to me."
"Well, this old geezer has some advice for you."
"Imagine that," Donna continued to laugh.
"Listen for change. If you're not in your apartment, don't go there. Come directly to my townhome."
"Geez. You see him like my mom. I know how to take care of myself."
"Not tonight." Niki tried to remain sedate, but her young partner was making it difficult. "You need to stay at my place tonight."
"What's happening?" Suddenly, Donna was serious.
"Somebody, and I don't know who, intends to harm you. My feeling is they plan to do something soon."
"Oh, my God." Donna turned down the CD player. "What do they want to do to me? Why me?"
"My best guess is they want to distract me. The best way to do that is to have something bad happen to you."
"Oh, sweet Jesus. You never told me working for you could be dangerous to my health."
"Unfortunately, it seems that way."
"What can we do?"
"Try to keep you safe and sound and solve the case," Niki responded.
"How do that?"
"According to my source, the answers all at the beginning."
"What beginning?" Donna expressed.
"I wish I knew."
79
Baton Rouge
Ricky Delrie staggered and almost fell. He had passed his limit for the consumption of alcohol more than two hours ago. But he kept drinking. He kept trying to escape. One more drink might help them forget about Niki Dupre. Forget about Paula Slocum. Forget about Sleazy Slocum.
Delrie had called in sick for school since his discussion with Niki. But he had not yet decided to do everything she demanded of him. He was not ready to give up his job. He was not ready to seek counseling. He was not ready to admit to the authorities or anyone else about his relationship with Paula.
Why was that nosy private investigator getting into his business? Did she not have better things to do? Her client was about to go to jail. If she could find him. Just because Ricky was away from the school did not mean he did not hear the scuttlebutt about Billy Bailey. That guy had a lot more problems than Ricky Delrie.
Delrie finished the drink. Gin, Vodka, Rum. He was not quite sure what it was at this point. The acting head coach stumbled to his car, and only by the miracle of his guardian angels did he drive to Niki
's townhome complex without killing himself or someone else.
He dragged himself to her door and banged on it. A neighbor came out of his townhome and glared at the drunk man. Delrie tried to flip him the finger, but his coordination was gone. It looked like he was waving at the irate man in his boxer shorts.
When Niki opened the door, to say she was surprised would have been an understatement of monumental proportions. She was not quite sure what to make of the drunk standing before her. He could barely remain erect.
"May I help you?" Niki asked.
"You betcha your little butt," the drunk replied.
"Ricky, you’re drunk. You need to leave before I call the police." She started to close the door.
Delrie rushed inside, or stumbled inside, depending on which point of view. In his troubled mind, he was racing at full speed. Niki saw him almost trip over his own feet. His aim missed the target, and he ended up flat on his face.
Niki helped him to his feet.
"You need some coffee, Ricky. Black, hot, and strong. Either that or I need to call an ambulance for you."
"Don't want no coffee," he muttered.
"Then I'll call you an ambulance."
"Nope. I—I am—Leaving."
She chuckled. The man was in no condition to walk, much less drive.
"What did you have to drink?"
"One beer," he said.
Niki laughed out loud. "Was that before or after the other two six-packs?"
"Just one," he slurred.
"Right. And you only talked to Paula."
At the mention of Slocum's daughter, the inebriated coach stood erect as if made of stone.
"What you talking about?"
"We've had this discussion, Ricky. When will you go into counseling?"
"I'm not. I—Decided not to."
"That wasn't our ideal. Do you want me to tell the authorities?"
