Night Vipers

by Carolina Mac

  “Luc went to Quantrall and beat Tyler up in the barn.”

  Travis smiled and said nothing.

  “Have another coffee and I’ll be right back,” said Annie. “I’m going to talk to Luc.”

  Annie put on a jacket, zipped it up and walked to the barn, then around behind to the fencing shed like she’d done hundreds of times before.

  Inside, the long frame building attached to the barn, the radio on the shelf above the workbench was playing Zydeco music and Luc was pulling nails out of old fence posts with a vengeance. He’d jerk a nail out, remove it from the claw of the puller and fire it into a rusty can sitting on the floor close to him.

  Annie took the hammer from his hand and set it on the workbench. She kissed his raw, bruised knuckles then slipped her arms around him and kissed him.

  “Je t’aime, cher.”

  10:00 a.m.

  Austin Courthouse.

  ARLIE Theriault exited the courthouse with his attorney by his side, and Lily and Rob were standing on the walk out front waiting for him.

  Rob took the lead, stepped in front of the pair and blocked their path. “Mr. Theriault, you are under arrest for premeditated murder. I’d like you to come with us.”

  “No. You’re making a mistake,” said Theriault. “The judge granted me bail. I’m free to go.”

  “You’re being re-arrested, sir. New evidence has come to light and you’ll have to come with us to headquarters.”

  “What new evidence?” asked the attorney.

  “I can’t discuss that,” said Rob to the lawyer, then turned to Theriault, “If you don’t come voluntarily, I’ll have to handcuff you, sir.”

  “I’m free on bail,” insisted Theriault. “Go and talk to the judge if you don’t believe me. I’m not going to the police station.” He turned in the direction of the parking area and Rob grabbed his arm.

  Theriault jerked his arm out of Rob’s grasp and took a feeble swing at Rob’s head. With one swift movement, Lily swept Theriault’s leg and he tumbled onto the grass.

  Rob dropped to his knees, rolled Theriault over and snapped the cuffs on him.

  Looking unhappy, the attorney said to his client, “I’ll follow you to DPS.”

  “That’s fine,” said Lily. “You do that.”

  10:15 a.m.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE returned from Luc’s hideout thinking she had resolved the problem. Luc promised not to go near Tyler again and Annie had promised Luc to testify against Tyler in court. That’s what Luc wanted. He wanted Tyler Quantrall in jail for what he’d done to her.

  Annie’s heart ached for Jesse, Paul and Bobby. The Quantrall family had always been so strong and close and now with Brian dead and Tyler causing so much trouble, they were torn apart.

  She wiped a tear from her eye as she walked into the kitchen and the anger in Travis startled her.

  “What the hell took you so long? Are you screwing around with Luc Lafontaine?”

  “None of your business, Travis. My personal life is none of your business. You saw to that a long time ago, and you did it more than once.” Annie pointed a finger. “You, Mister walkaway. It’s all on you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m good at,” hollered Travis. Color was high in his neck as he grabbed his jacket off the hook by the kitchen door. “I’m out of here. You get yourself another bodyguard.”

  “You go out that door and it will be for the last time.” Annie’s voice cracked and she put a hand to her throat. “You’re fired, Bristol. Don’t come back here asking for your job back like you always do. You won’t get in the fuckin gate.”

  The door slammed and a piercing pain shot through Annie’s head. She ran down the hall, locked herself in her room and sobbed on her bed.

  11:00 a.m.

  Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

  TYLER slumped down in the passenger seat in Paul’s truck feeling worse than he could ever remember feeling. His head throbbed, his teeth felt loose and every part of his body ached at the same time.

  “The doc said to rest,” said Paul as he turned down the long laneway into the ranch. “You can’t work in the shape you’re in. You should go back to bed and stay there until you feel better.”

  “I can barely move,” mumbled Tyler, “and I have a mean headache. That crazy fuckin Luc did a number on me.”

  “He slugs fence posts every day,” said Paul, “and he’s strong.” Paul pulled the truck up close to the porch steps to let Tyler out. “Go on upstairs and take it easy.”

  “Thanks, Paulie.” Tyler opened the door of the truck and took his time getting out. Holding onto the railing, he hobbled up the steps one at a time. He shuffled across the wide porch and opened the front door.

  Marnie met him in the foyer and her eyes widened at the sight of him. “Tyler, do you need help getting upstairs?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I can do it.”

  “If you need anything, call me,” said Marnie. “I can get you a drink or a sandwich.”

  I can’t eat. I think I’m gonna puke.

  Tyler headed for the stairs.

  11:30 a.m.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE and the Chief met Lily and Rob in booking when they brought Arlie Theriault in through the back of the building. His attorney had followed along and was right behind them.

  “Mr. Clarke,” said the Chief, acknowledging the lawyer’s presence—but not in a friendly way.

  “Chief, can I have a word?” Clarke was short in stature, overweight and red in the face. His auburn toupee was slightly askew, and his silk tie was crooked.

  “As soon as we get Mr. Theriault booked and processed,” said the Chief, “we’ll speak upstairs.”

  While the booking progressed, Blaine stepped outside, lit up a smoke and called Cat.

  “Hi, sweetie.”

  “We got him, Cat. Arlie Theriault from the comptroller’s office hired a hit on Dan Flaherty. We’ve got the hitter in custody too.”

  “Why?” asked Cat. “There are a lot of people safeguarding the taxpayers’ money. It can’t be about money.”

  “The motive isn’t clear, at least not yet,” said Blaine. “But I think you’re wrong, Cat. It had to be about money. “Usually is.”

  “Are you speaking to the media?”

  “A bunch of them are huddled at the front of the building waiting for me. It’s damned cold out there today.”

  “I’ll turn on my TV and watch you shiver.”

  Blaine chuckled at Cat as he walked through the building to the front door and readied himself for the onslaught. As soon as he set foot outside, they began hollering questions.

  “Hang on, people,” he hollered. “Not much information for you yet, but we have suspects in custody for Congressman Flaherty’s murder. We’ll be going over the evidence with Mr. Leighton’s office later today or tomorrow and perhaps he’ll have a word for you after that.”

  “Who are the suspects, Ranger Blackmore?”

  “No names are being released at the moment.”

  “Will Miss Polito be sending us details?”

  “As soon as I have a moment with Mary, we’ll put a release together for y’all.”

  Blaine shivered as he went back inside and almost ran into Jesse hovering just inside the door listening to him. “I’m heading over to see Mrs. Flaherty. I want to run Theriault’s name by her and see if it rings any bells. Her husband may have made comments and she doesn’t realize what she knows.”

  “Good idea,” said Blaine. “Call me later.”

  “I’ll head back to the ranch after I see her. I want to make sure Tyler is staying put.”

  “This is a nightmare for you, partner. I can see the stress in your face.”

  Jesse left and Blaine called Lily. “I’m leaving headquarters in fifteen minutes. Send all the boys to Logan’s for one o’clock.”

  “Copy that, boss. Do you want me there too?”

  “Sure do.”

 
Noon

  Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.

  FARRELL opened the door to Roy’s room and Chet Kamps was sitting beside the bed with his eyes closed. Maybe he’d slept there. “How’s he doing?”

  “Nurse said he ain’t eating.”

  “Might not feel like it yet.”

  “Did he tell you who did this?” asked Farrell.

  Kamps nodded and fished a ripped piece of paper out of his pocket.

  “Thanks,” said Farrell. “Tell Roy I was here, and I’ll come back tonight. I’ll talk to one of the nurses at the desk about the room.”

  Kamps nodded and closed his eyes again.

  When Farrell got back to the truck he unfolded the scrap of paper Kamps had given him and read the name.

  Florin Moffat.

  Farrell was sure he’d heard the name before. He picked up his cell from the passenger seat and pressed Blacky’s number. “Florin Moffat.”

  “What about him?”

  “Who is he?”

  “Big litigation lawyer. Tort guy. Sues the asses off corporations and government agencies.”

  “He’s the guy who beat up the Toy and put him in the hospital.”

  “No fuckin way.”

  “Way. We’ve got to bring him in.”

  “Are you coming to the lunch meeting at Logan’s?”

  “On my way.”

  12:15

  Lady Bird Lake. Austin.

  ISABEL Flaherty opened the door with a smile and Jesse made a mental note of how pretty she was. Every other time he’d seen her she’d been close to tears. “Come in Ranger Quantrall, I made us a sandwich to have with our coffee.”

  “That was nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.” He followed her to the island in the kitchen where she had two places set.

  “I have to eat lunch before I go out anyway. I have a meeting in half an hour, so we might as well both eat while you ask me your questions.” She filled two mugs with coffee and placed one in front of Jesse. “I hope you like roast beef.”

  “Roast beef is fine. Thank you.”

  Especially with hot mustard.

  He added cream to his coffee, then said, “I came to tell you that we arrested two men in your husband’s murder.”

  “You did? That’s good news.”

  “I wondered if you knew either one of them or heard your husband mention them.”

  “What are their names?”

  “One man works in the State Comptroller’s office, and his name is Arlie Theriault.”

  Isabel tilted her head to one side and looked puzzled. “I don’t know why I thought I would recognize the name you were going to say, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” said Jesse. “It might be a government connection and your husband never mentioned the man. Probably is.”

  “You said two men?” Isabel took a bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

  “The other man was a paid hit man. He’s a biker named Jason Goodall from San Antonio.”

  “A professional killer?” she asked.

  “Yes. We have evidence that money changed hands.”

  “I’m happy you caught these men, Ranger Quantrall, but I’m at a loss why they killed Dan. He must have been a threat to them in some way. If you’d known him, you would have realized that he was a bit of a vigilante—always trying to see justice done. Maybe he became interested in something dangerous. I don’t know what to say.”

  “We don’t have a clear motive, but Mr. Theriault is facing several days of interrogation. It might come clear, and if it does, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you. Did the psychic girl help you catch these men?”

  “Yes, she did. Her insight led to both arrests,” said Jesse. “She’ll be returning your husband’s articles shortly.”

  “And she did it from New Orleans? She must be amazing. I’d love to have a reading from her at some point in the future. If you could provide me with her address, I’d like to send her a note and thank her for helping.”

  “She does give readings at her home,” said Jesse. “Her name is Mystere LeJeune.”

  “What an intriguing name.”

  “I’ll have Ranger Blackmore email the street address to you.”

  Isabel Flaherty walked him to the door and shook his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Ranger Quantrall. I hope we meet again.”

  1:00 p.m.

  Logan’s. Austin.

  LIL had called ahead and reserved a table big enough for all the Agency crew. She was seated next to Rob Vicars at the table sipping a glass of Merlot when Blaine arrived. “Busy morning?”

  Blaine nodded. “And this afternoon will be busy too.” He glanced up and Luke and Fletcher were removing their jackets and sitting down.

  “Good, Farrell ain’t here yet,” said Fletch. “Gotta tell you some stuff before he gets here, boss.”

  “What did y’all hear this morning?”

  “Deleon said they would try for him tonight when he cruises one of the malls like he’s been doing.”

  “Which one?”

  “Southeast.”

  “Okay, not far from the Agency. I’ll ride with them tonight.” Blaine gave Fletch a fist bump. “Good to have a warning. If Deleon is with them, maybe we can take him out tonight.”

  Farrell arrived a couple minutes later, sat down and ordered a large draft.

  “Did you get enough sleep?” asked Blaine.

  “Nope. Might have to grab a couple hours before the night shift.”

  “How was Roy?” asked Blaine as he chugged down his first Corona of the day.

  “Not worth a shit. Can’t talk. Can’t eat.”

  “Dangerous profession,” mumbled Blaine and ordered another round of drinks.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Thursday, January 19th.

  12:15 a.m.

  The Blackmore Agency.

  Night Shift.

  FARRELL was antsy and he paced the kitchen firing off questions. “Why is Annie coming tonight? I thought Mick quit and she was done riding with us.”

  Blaine shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “Travis coming too?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Farrell stopped and took a stance in front of his brother. “What do you know?”

  Blaine smiled. “Not much.”

  A rumble sounded in the drive and Blaine hopped to his feet. “Sounds like she’s here.”

  After greeting Annie and Mick and letting them warm up in the kitchen for a couple of minutes after the long ride from Coulter-Ross, they left the compound for their shift.

  Farrell led the way on the patrol. They’d been riding for a couple of hours with no sign of trouble when he headed for the Southeast Mall.

  2:30 a.m.

  Southeast Mall. Austin.

  BLAINE had his eyes wide open looking for trouble as they cruised through the sparsely populated parking lot. Most of the stores were closed and only a couple of convenience stores, an all-night pharmacy and one of the bars were still open.

  This wasn’t a prime spot for the Cobras to be picking up young girls. Blaine didn’t see any gangers hanging around and he thought, or hoped, Deleon had changed his mind about knocking off Farrell—or trying to.

  Nope.

  A shot ricocheted off an SUV a few inches to Farrell’s left and Blaine saw Annie pull her rifle out of the holster attached to her bike and take a quick loop into the next row. She fired three quick shots in succession.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  No one returned fire.

  Blaine caught up with her as she zoomed towards the other corner waving her arm.

  Yep, they’re in both back corners.

  A guy dressed in black leather pulled out from behind the dumpster, squeezed the gas and drove his Harley towards Farrell and Carlos with an automatic weapon in his hand. Before he could fire, Blaine pulled the trigger on his Beretta and the ganger shot backwards off his bike. The big bike dumped and with the engine still rumbling, skidde
d across the asphalt on its side.

  Two more gangers followed the first guy out of his hiding place behind the blue dumpster and Annie had them.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  When they saw things weren’t going their way, three more Cobras peeled out of the mall parking lot and disappeared into the night. Blaine called it in and rode back to Farrell’s position.

  “You guys knew they were gunning for me,” snarled Farrell, “and you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “Some things you’re better off not knowing,” said Blaine, “and that was one of them.”

  Sirens sounded and First Response wasn’t far away.

  “Mom, you and Mick are out of here,” said Blaine. “Talk to y’all in the morning.”

  Annie gave a little wave and she and Mick were gone.

  5:30 a.m.

  ALMOST dawn by the time the Medical Examiner processed all the bodies of the dead Cobras and bagged them for transport to the morgue.

  By that time a big gaggle of media vans had gathered, and cameras were rolling outside of the three roped-off perimeters where the action had occurred. Interesting fodder for the breakfast news. Questions were shouted and hung unanswered on the cold January air. Blaine tried his best to ignore the reporters.

  “Ranger Blackmore can you tell us what’s going on here?”

  “Is this a gang war?” asked another reporter.

  “Why are you riding a Harley, Ranger Blackmore?” The reporter laughed. “Is your monster truck in the shop?”

  Tired and in desperate need of coffee, Blaine wanted to shout curses back at them. Instead, he made notes and kept his cool.

  “How many did Dead-Eye kill?” shouted a blonde talking head.

  That did it. The fuse blew. Blaine hollered at them, “He didn’t fire his weapon.”

  “Then who shot all the gangers?” yelled another one.

  “I did.”

  6:00 a.m.

  The Blackmore Agency.

  BLAINE made a pot of coffee to warm the boys up before they went home to bed. “We need to find out who those bikers were and if Georgie Deleon was one of them. I looked at all the corpses but couldn’t be positive with all the blood on them.”