by Jim Riley
"I ain't scared of them."
"Maybe you should be. You should also be worried about Sleazy. He was asking about you."
Panic took over Delrie's whole body. Then he urinated on himself.
"I ain’t scared of him neither." His words did not jibe with his bodily function.
"Ricky, you're making a mess on my floor. Move over to the couch. Wait. Let me put something down first."
Niki grabbed some garbage bags and split them down the sides. She laid them on the couch and laid some old sheets on top. She then helped Delrie lie down. He was asleep almost before he was prone. The coach snored while Niki locked her door. The private investigator covered Delrie with two blankets and propped a pillow under his head. The snoring continued uninterrupted, no matter how much she moved him around. Then the investigator cleaned the messy spot on the floor and threw the rags into the washer.
Niki left him on the couch and went back to bed. If she made him leave, there would be little chance of the coach finding his way home without harm. She went to her bedroom, locked the door, and went to bed.
80
Atchafalaya Basin
"What should we do now? Flavia asked.
"We have little choice. Unless you know a way out of this one I don't." Billy Bailey replied.
"We’ve got to try. Otherwise, whoever brought us here will come back to kill us."
"I'm not sure." Billy walked to the front door the cabin. "If they wanted to kill us, why bring us here and provide us all the food? I'm still trying to figure it all out."
"Well, I'm leaving." Flavia pushed by him to the front porch.
"Wait. It's not safe."
"It's not safe to stay here. I've at least got to try."
"Please don't." Billy tried to grab her arm.
She pulled away and jumped off the porch. The water was not that deep, coming up to her waist.
"See, is safe. It looks like the boat came through that opening. I'll follow it."
Billy watched the cheerleader turn and wade away from the cabin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He turned and his mouth fell open. A huge alligator slid off a log on a slow approach toward Flavia.
Billy leapt off the porch. At the sound of the splash, when the coach hit the water, Flavia stopped and turned. She saw Billy churning through the water and mistakenly thought he had decided to join her. She turned away from him and kept wading.
Billy caught up with the cheerleader just as they reached a fallen Cypress tree. He turned and saw the swirl of water closing in on them. The coach grabbed the teenager around her waist and slung her up in the treetop. Then he pulled himself up right behind her.
The alligator erupted, half of its body out of the water. Its teeth closed in on the bottom of Billy's shoe, ripping it from his foot. The edge of the creature's teeth left deep grooves in his flesh.
Billy screamed with pain. The alligator fell back into the muddy mire. Flavia shrieked before sobbing uncontrollably. Blood poured out of the bottom of Billy's left foot and the red liquid fell into the water, further energizing the large reptile.
It lurched again. The mighty jaw snapped closed, only an inch below the coach’s bloody foot. He and Flavia scrambled higher in the treetop. After three more feet of ascent, Billy relaxed a little.
Then Flavia shrieked again. Not four feet away from her head, a massive cottonmouth hissed its displeasure at being disturbed from its morning sunning. Being one of the most territorial animals on the planet, the venomous snake was not willing to share its favorite spot, no matter how big the intruder might be.
The forked tongue flickered out, and the snake coiled into a striking position. Billy jerked Flavia back to him and saved her life by his instinctive reaction. The stake struck, displaying the pure white mouth which was the source of its nickname. The strike fell short, and the reptile coiled again.
Billy broke off a limb and inched himself between Flavia and the snake. The pain in his foot sent sharp jolts with each small effort. He positioned himself as best he could on the fallen tree trunk.
The coach raised the lamb and slashed down on the snake. He missed. The reptile was now more upset and vile than before. It slithered closer to Billy. One last chance.
The coach ignored the searing pain shooting up his leg and struck the final blow. The snake, stunned by the direct hit to its head, fell off the tree trunk directly into the pool of blood beneath caused by the gashes in Billy's foot.
The massive alligator made a quick lurch and emerged from the dark water, parts of the water moccasin hanging from each side of its enormous mouth. The armored reptile was satisfied. He swam back to the log and climbed up before swallowing its breakfast.
Billy shoved Flavia into the water.
"Run." He shouted. "Run back to the cabin."
He jumped in behind her and waded on one foot. He was unsuccessful and fell face first into the miry liquid. When he surfaced, he saw Flavia stop and look back at him.
"Run. You have to make it to the cabin. You don't have much time." She glanced at the alligator on the log. With one mighty gulp, it swallowed the large cottonmouth. Then the creature turned its massive head toward the pair in the swampy water.
"Run." Billy repeated.
Instead, Flavia waded back to the coach and helped him to his feet. More accurately, to his good foot. She put one of his arms over her shoulder and they made slow, unsteady progress toward the porch.
Billy glanced at the alligator. It remained on the log, evidently satisfied with the bit of appetizer. He breathed a sigh of relief, but his relief was short–lived.
Another swirl emerged from the swamp. It was immediately followed by another. Then another. All the swirls converged on the bloody mess under the fallen Cypress.
Billy realized the animals were attracted to the blood. He was still bleeding.
"You have to leave me behind and get to the porch," he yelled much too loud than required.
She ignored him. He tried to help despite the unimaginable pain. They reached the porch and climbed up. Flavia had to help Billy with the last push.
He laid on the porch and rolled over. He wished he had not. Another alligator was coming out of the water onto the porch.
“Get inside,” he yelled at Flavia.
She flung the door open and dragged the coach inside. Flavia slammed the door on the long snout of the reptile. Another was just climbing up to join its hunting buddy. The cheerleader locked the door and shoved a chair under the knob. She then turned back to Billy.
The teenager raced to the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit. In minutes, Flavia sterilized the gashes, applied antibiotic cream, and wrapped his foot with gauze. She said nothing the entire time she worked on him.
"Thanks," he said when she backed away.
“You're welcome,” she replied. “It's the least I can do after all the trouble I've caused you.”
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes, Sir. But I can't," Flavia replied.
"Why not?" He tried to chuckle. "It's not like I'm in a position to tell anyone."
"I just can't," she repeated. "I made a promise and I can't break my promise."
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Uh—" Flavia hesitated "I don't know. What do you want me to do?"
"Write a letter to Sara Sue. Tell her I am innocent of the charges. Tell her I didn't do the things you accused me of doing."
"Why? Neither of us has much of a chance of living through this."
"Because I love my wife. Because I feel like I let her down. Because I want her to know the truth."
"But you didn't do anything. All of this is my fault. Not yours."
"She may never get the letter, but it's the best I can do under the circumstances. I'll put it in a plastic bag and hide it under my clothes."
"A lot of good that'll do." Flavia laughed out loud. "Unless one of those alligators out there poops it out after eating you, then nobody will ever know."
"I have a feeling
," Billy replied. "Whoever put us here doesn't want us dead or we would already be that way."
"Then why are we here?" Flavia asked.
"To have some breakfast. I'm hungry."
81
Niki's townhome
"Good morning, Ricky," Niki hollered as she came into the living room. She had overslept.
There was no response from the couch. She walked over and poked the blankets. No response. She pulled the covers back from Ricky's head and gasped.
He was stripped naked. Tape covered his mouth. Small cuts covered his entire body. Niki knew immediately the young football coach was dead.
"What is it, Miss Niki?"
In all the excitement, Niki had forgotten Donna spent the night in her spare bedroom. The youngster was now standing in the opening to the hallway in a robe.
"Call Samson. Somebody killed Coach Delrie," she said, without taking her eyes off the coach.
82
Niki’s Townhome
“There is little doubt about the cause of death,” the large chief of homicide pronounced.
“Were any of the cuts deep enough to kill him?” Niki asked.
“Nope. All they were meant to do was to inflict pain and terror. I imagine they were successful on both parts.” Samson replied.
“What killed him?” Donna was now dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt.
“He choked to death.”
Both ladies frowned. Samson answered the unspoken question.
“Somebody cut off his private parts and shoved them down his throat.”
Donna gasped. Niki immediately knew who was responsible for the death of Ricky Delrie, but also knew there would never be any solid proof.
How did Slocum know the coach would be in her townhome? She did not know until he arrived and was too drunk to send home. She doubted if Delrie knew he would end up spending the night on Niki’s couch. If he did this to Ricky, what did he do to Flavia and Billy?
“Do you know something?” Samson asked, looking closely at Niki expression.
“Too much,” she replied. “And not enough.”
83
Niki's townhome
The forensics team was gone. So was Niki’s couch, sheets, and blankets. All the mess was cleaned up, and the room felt empty without the biggest piece of furniture.
Neither Niki nor Donna had much of an appetite. Drexel Robinson showed up with po'boys. One shrimp, one oyster, and one combination.
"Come on, girls. Y'all gotta eat," he said.
"You can have mine," Niki responded. "I'm still not hungry."
"I'll take hers. With all the stuff going on, we didn't eat breakfast." Donna raced to take two of the sandwiches out of Drexel's hands.
Drexel kept the combination, sharing the other two sandwiches with Donna.
Niki walked over to the door opening to her balcony and stared outside.
"What's on your mind?" Drexel asked.
Niki turned. "How did he do that to Ricky and not wake up either of us?" She pointed at Donna.
"He couldn't have put anything in your drink or food. Donna was already snoring when Delrie came by."
"Then he must have given us something after we were asleep," Niki responded.
"I've heard of those kinds of drugs. Just spray a little up your nose, and it puts you in a deep slumber."
"I've heard of those also, Drexel." Niki walked back to the center of the room. "Before now, I thought they were a myth."
"Mr. Slocum drugged us while we were asleep?" Donna expressed shock. "I don't believe it."
"Then how do you explain a man was brutally tortured in this room and neither of you heard a thing?" Drexel asked.
"Beats me," she replied. "That's scary."
"Not as much for us as it was for Ricky," Niki replied.
"One thing about Slocum. I don't know what kind of grudge he had against the late Mr. Delrie," Drexel paused, "but he doesn't hold it inside. He lets it out."
"What do we do, Miss Niki?" Donna had lost some of her appetite.
"We let the deal between Slocum and Delrie alone. We’ll let Samson sort that out."
"But we know who did it," Donna retorted.
"No, we suspect someone. We have no proof. Absolutely none. We're not even sure we were drugged. I imagine whatever he used is completely out of our systems by now."
"So where does that leave us?" Drexel asked.
"The last time I met with Sleazy, I was almost positive he knew who was responsible for the murders."
"So do we call him up and ask him?"
"No." Niki shook her head. "He would only deny it."
"So we're back to nothing," Donna picked a fried oyster from her po'boy.
"He gave me a hint. He said to go back to the beginning and I would find the answer."
"It's been so long. What was the beginning?" Drexel asked.
"The Friday night game," Niki said without enthusiasm. "It all started with those two photographs of Billy with Flavia and LaDonne."
"I know." Donna almost spat out an oyster.
"What does that young, nimble mind of yours know?" Drexel grinned.
"He was telling Niki to go back and look at the film of the game."
Niki and Drexel nodded. The strawberry blonde pulled the disc from her bag and loaded it.
"Forward it to after the game, when the celebration started," Donna instructed.
"What are we looking for?" Drexel queried.
“One of the fathers. It has to be one of them. Either Carl King, LJ Wild, our Paul Nicklaus. It has to be one of them. Everybody else is dead.”
They reviewed the celebration on the football field after the game in detail, rewinding whenever they lost one of these three suspects in the crowd. At the end, they had nothing.
"Maybe I was wrong," Donna said.
"He might not have been talking about the film after all."
"I want to see it one more time," Niki said.
Donna went to the kitchen to get another soda to finish the shrimp po'boy. Niki and Drexel leaned back in their chairs and played the film once again. This time, they let it play straight through.
"We don't have diddly, to quote the judge," Drexel announced.
"One more time," Niki said.
She sat alone, going through the footage for the fifth time. Donna and Drexel went outside to get some fresh air, trying to figure out what steps should follow.
"I've got it."
Drexel and Donna heard the shout from outside. They rushed inside toward Niki.
"What have you got?" Drexel asked.
"I know who we're looking for. It all makes sense now."
84
Blackwater Road
Niki watched the man get out of his truck. He walked toward the door of his house. She pulled her Ford Explorer into the driveway right behind his pickup.
He stopped and glared at the detective.
"What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough already?"
"No, not yet," Niki answered.
"What do you want? I'm tired, and I'm hungry," the man said.
"Don't worry. When you go to prison, they'll feed you three times a day. From what I understand, the food isn't that great, but you won't starve to death."
The man shot an icy look at the slim detective and took a menacing step in her direction.
"What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?" He demanded.
"Not yet. But I think you have if you thought you could get away with murdering Earl Washington, LaDonne Elgin, and Jimbo Wax. Not to mention raping your own daughter, Mr. Foster."
Donald Foster turned blood red. His hands clenched, muscles tightening. He closed the distance between them.
"If I were you, I'd be a lot more careful about what you say." His face now was inches away from Niki's.
"Or what? I'm not a teenage cheerleader. What do you plan to do to me?"
"Keep talking and you'll see."
Niki recoiled slightly at Foster's breath, a comb
ination of alcohol and onions. The big man mistook the reflex action as a sign of weakness. He lunged at the detective.
She was ready, but Foster was faster and stronger than she anticipated. His right fist missed her face, but his left caught her flush in the side.
A sharp pang shot through her body. Her breaths became ragged and difficult. Seizing on her weakness, Foster deftly positioned a powerful forearm under her chin and pivoted her body until he was behind the detective.
"I'm going to break your pretty little neck," he hissed.
"Where—Flavia—Billy?" She gasped under the increased pressure to her throat.
Foster eased up on the force, knowing he was in a commanding position.
"In a place you'll never find them. Neither will anyone else. They're dead."
A ripple of sadness filtered through Niki. Her hope was gone.
"Yeah, I did the little bitch," Foster said proudly. "She was my stepdaughter. No relation. No incest. She liked it."
"I'm sure," Niki gasped. "Every seventeen-year-old beauty dreams of an over-the-hill loser like you."
Foster tightened his grip. Niki struggled to inhale small pockets of air.
"I did the stupid stockbroker. It was supposed to be you who found him."
"You wanted to distract me. I get that. Why Jimbo?"
"Because that's stupid whore talked to him. She couldn't keep her big mouth shut."
"Don't worry. The baby’s DNA will prove you raped Flavia."
"Huh?" More onion and beer breath. "They will never find it. Goodbye, Miss Dupre."
The iron-like forearms tightened. Niki reached back with both hands and slapped his ears. At the same time she kicked backwards, cracking his knee.
Foster yelled out in pain, and the vise-like grip loosened. Then the detective did the unexpected. She used his grip to leverage her body and flipped backwards over his head. She ended up directly behind the big man, out of breath with sharp knife-like pains in her midsection.
