by BJ Bourg
“Will you behave?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.
“I’m no ma’am,” Amy said, grinning. The grin quickly faded when she recognized the pain in his hollow eyes. “Just call me Amy.”
She grabbed the keys to the door and let him out of the cell.
“What about me?” Joseph Billiot had stood from the bunk where he’d been sleeping. “Can I get out, too?”
“He’s making a phone call,” Amy said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
Amy glared at him. “When it’s time for you to grow up and stop causing trouble. Red’s got a good reason to be upset, but you’ve got none.”
“No, I got no right to do what I did,” Red mumbled. “I’m trying to bring my boys up right—”
He realized he’d used the plural sense of boy and broke down crying as he remembered he only had one son now. Amy put an arm on his shoulder.
“Let it all out,” she said. “It won’t help, but it’ll feel better for a minute.”
Red pinched his eyes and grunted violently. He took a breath and blew hard, trying to will the tears away. “No, I need to be strong. I need to be strong for Paulie.”
Amy just stood patiently as he tried to compose himself. When he was ready, he nodded. She led the way to the booking room and let him use the phone. He called his house and she could hear Paulie’s terrified and muffled voice emanating from the earpiece. Red began telling his son that he would be locked up for a few days, but for Paulie to be strong and look after himself.
“You’re a man now,” Red said. “You can take care of things while I’m gone.” He paused while Paulie spoke. He then nodded and continued. “I know, son, I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I let you down. I swear, when I get out of this, I’ll never touch another drink for as long as I live.”
Amy frowned. When Red had hung up the handset, she leaned back in her chair.
“Red, look at me.”
The man raised his heavy head and stared at her through his bloodshot and swollen eyes. “Yes, ma’am?”
“If I bring you home, will you swear to me that you’ll stay there?”
“You would do that?”
“Will you swear to stay home?” Amy leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. “And I mean stay home—as in, don’t go anywhere. Not even to the store. Like you said, Paulie’s a man now and he can do the grocery shopping. I want you to stay home and out of sight. You can call me or Clint any time you want and bitch at us until this case is solved, but don’t leave your house. If you swear to that and to appear in court, I’ll call the judge and get a personal recognizance bond for you and bring you home right now.”
“I swear it.” He hesitated. “Do I have to put up any money? I don’t have much, you know.”
“No. I’ll give you a notice to appear in court and that’ll be it.” Amy called the judge while Red sat there and watched her make her case. After obtaining the authorization, she completed the paperwork, gave him the notice with his court date, and then stood. “Okay, let’s go.”
Joseph must’ve seen them leave the booking room and walk down the hall, because he began yelling for Amy to let him go.
“I didn’t do anything!” he hollered. “I’ll pay my fine. Please, let me go. It’s not fair that he gets to go home and I don’t. He’s the one who started everything!”
Amy ignored him and told Lindsey she would be right back. Red’s house could be accessed by boat or down a desolate swampy road that snaked along a bayou to the south. She elected to bring him home in one of the department’s four-by-four pickups, because it would be faster. It took her thirty minutes to get to his house, and forty minutes to get back, thanks to her stopping to help a woman catch a puppy that darted across the street.
The woman simply wore overalls, a bra, and white shrimpers’ boots. Her hair had been stabbed in place with a lead pencil.
“These damn tourists,” she grumbled when Amy jumped out of the truck and snatched up the puppy for her. “If they really loved their dogs, they’d take better care of them.”
“Oh, I thought it was your puppy.”
She shook her head and roughly blew hair out of her eyes. “Nah, it’s for one of my renters. They came in last night and have already been a pain in the ass.”
Amy nodded and stared toward the bayou, where several faded camps nestled together under large oak trees at the water’s edge. It was a secluded area and each camp had about fifty feet of space between them.
“You rent to people from all over the country?”
“No, I rent to people from all over the world.” She took the puppy from Amy. “I had a couple from Australia here last month, and another group from England.”
“What about Utah?” Amy asked slowly.
“Sure, I’ve hosted people from Utah before.”
“Recently?
“I…I think so.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, a couple of guys from Utah started trouble between two locals the other day,” she explained, fudging a little. “They paid one of the locals to punch the other one and a big fight broke out.”
“Do you know their names?”
“No,” Amy admitted. “I just know they’re possibly from Utah and they might’ve stayed at a vacation home here in Mechant Loup.”
“Well, I can check my records when I have a minute,” the woman said. “Give me your card. Right now, I need to get this puppy back to her rightful owners.”
Amy gave the woman a card and asked for her name before she hurried off.
“Lucille,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Lucille Cheramie.”
When Amy got back to the police station, she pulled Joseph Billiot into the booking room to process the paperwork to have him transported to the detention center.
“Are you gonna let me go, too?”
She studied him for a long moment. “It depends. If you promise to go home and stay away from the bars for the rest of the week, I’ll get a PR bond authorized and bring you home.”
He let out a long sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. I just don’t want to go to the Chateau Jail.”
Amy contacted the judge again and obtained the authorization. She then completed the necessary paperwork.
“You need to stop hitting people,” Amy admonished. “These misdemeanor charges are going to start adding up and the judge will get tired of seeing your ugly mug in court. You’ll find yourself pulling a long stint in the parish jail.”
“But that dude grabbed Red and tried to take him down,” Joseph protested. “Red’s son just died. I couldn’t let that man do that to him. I didn’t even know the guy. He wasn’t a regular, so he had no business doing that to Red.”
“Regardless, if it doesn’t involve you, then don’t involve yourself.” Amy slid the notice across the desk. “Sign here affirming you’ll appear in court on that date.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Get your ass back in the cell.” Amy stood abruptly and was about to walk around the desk to grab Joseph by the nape of his neck when he yelped.
“No, no, no…please!” He clasped his hands together like a child begging not to get spanked. “I’ll sign it.”
Amy sighed and took her seat as Joseph picked up the pen and affixed his signature to the document. Amy tore the notice from the book and handed it to him.
“If you don’t show up in court on that date, a warrant will be issued for your arrest.”
Joseph folded the notice and shoved it in his shirt pocket. “While I’m here, can I pick up my Benjamin Franklin?”
“Huh?” Amy scrunched her face in confusion. “Pick up who?”
“The chief—Chief Susan—she took a Benjamin off of me and I want it back,” Joseph explained. “The man I hit from New Orleans doesn’t want to press charges anymore, so I figured I could get my money back.”
&
nbsp; “Are you talking about that fight from Tuesday?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll have to check with Chief Wolf before giving it back, and she’s out of town right now.” Amy started to stand, but Joseph remained seated.
“Can you call her and ask her?” he pleaded. “I really need the money. My rent is due Monday.”
“If you don’t have enough money for rent, then why are you sucking it up at the bars?” Amy shoved a fist onto her hip.
“My buddies were buying me drinks. I didn’t spend a cent.”
Amy begrudgingly led him to the lobby and instructed him to wait while she called Susan, who verified that the victim had dropped the charges.
“You can give him back the money,” Susan said. “It’s in one of the evidence lockers. I’m not sure which one, but you can check the log book. If you don’t mind, just make a photo copy of it before releasing it.”
Amy agreed and then asked how things were going in Utah.
“We’re at the scene of the murder right now,” she said. “Clint’s looking around. He thinks the killers came back to Utah, but we still don’t know anything.”
After a brief conversation, they ended the call and Amy went to the evidence log book. She found the entry and went to the corresponding locker. She typed in her code and opened the locker, where she found an evidence envelope secured inside.
She freed Benjamin Franklin from the envelope and made a copy in the dispatcher’s station. Before meeting Joseph in the lobby, she sat at a table in the radio room and began preparing a receipt. Lindsey was leaning far back in her chair reading a book, and hadn’t paid any attention to her.
Amy jotted down the denomination of the bill, recorded the serial number, and was about to complete the receipt when she saw the series date.
“No way!” she hollered, jumping to her feet. The chair she had been sitting on skidded backward across the floor and crashed into the far wall. The noise and motion scared Lindsey so bad that the dispatcher screamed and fell out of her chair.
“What in the hell is going on?” Lindsey asked in a voice that was clearly shaken as she scrambled to untangle herself from the floor and find her book.
Amy laughed so hard she nearly tore her gut. Once she’d calmed down, she pointed to the one-hundred-dollar bill. “Look at the series date on that bill—it’s from thirty years ago!”
CHAPTER 31
I shook my head and motioned to Leah that I was ready to leave the original crime scene. The video store where the murder occurred had been reduced to a flat piece of bare concrete surrounded by tall weeds and building debris. Other than providing some insight into how secluded the location had been, the visit served no purpose.
Susan and I followed Leah down winding backcountry roads, some of which were rugged and unpaved. Leah drove a white F-250 4x4 with a green and gold badge on the front doors and the name of her police department displayed boldly on all four sides. There were clumps of red mud stuck to the undercarriage and all four wheel wells, and Susan and I spent most of the trip in a reddish haze kicked up by her all-terrain tires.
We took so many different turns on nameless back roads that I was completely discombobulated after a few minutes of driving. Had it not been for the sun above, I would not have been able to begin to find north.
We finally turned down a rough gravel road that descended into a canyon. After jostling along for about three miles, Leah pulled off the road to the right and parked near a gnarled juniper tree. We parked beside her and met in the shade of the large tree. A narrow stream flowed lazily through the area. It was hot and I longed to immerse myself in the clear water.
“This is it,” Leah announced. “This is where we found the armored truck. It was burned to the rims. Arson investigators didn’t find any evidence of the leather bags or bodies in the vehicle. This is where the trail went cold.”
I frowned. I don’t know what I expected to find in this spot after thirty years, but there wasn’t even a hint of a fire ever having taken place here.
I shot a thumb over my shoulder. “There’s no way he walked out of here carrying two million dollars.”
“That’s what we surmised,” Leah said. “We’re pretty sure someone picked him up.”
“Or…he could’ve parked a vehicle in this spot and driven himself out of the canyon,” Susan offered, moving to higher ground and looking around. She put her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun. Pointing off in the distance, she asked, “What’s out in that direction?”
Leah and I joined her. There were faded trails crisscrossing along the canyon floor and I could see what looked like homesteads off in the distance. From where we stood, they looked like match boxes.
“Most of those residents weren’t here thirty years ago,” Leah explained. “About half of the homes in this canyon back then were vacation rentals. Now, it’s about seventy-five percent.”
“Did y’all canvass that area?” I asked.
“Yeah. After finding the truck, we knocked on every door in this canyon and interviewed every person we could find, but no one saw anything. A couple of kids claim they saw smoke, but they pointed in the wrong direction, so we never did believe them.”
I remembered seeing several canvass sheets when I was going through the file earlier. I had breezed over the names, but nothing stood out. I certainly didn’t expect to recognize any of the names, so it had been no surprise. A thought suddenly came to mind.
“Hold up—wasn’t Bud Walker the focus of your investigation back then?”
She nodded, her brow furrowing. “Yeah, he was the sole focus of our investigation.”
“We now know he had a double-crossing accomplice.” I began pacing back and forth along the creek. “We need to look at every name you interviewed from back then—in particular, all the people who lived over there.” I pointed across the canyon. “If I lived out here and I was planning a heist, this is where I would bring the armored truck. I’d never have to get back on one of the main roads, which would be crawling with police. I could leave my vehicle parked right here during the heist. Once I brought the truck here, I could load up the money and drive straight across the canyon. I could hole up at my homestead and tell you I didn’t see anything when you arrived to canvass the area.”
Leah’s face turned pale. “You think I screwed up? You think I should’ve looked at these people harder?”
“No, we’re supposed to follow the evidence,” I said quickly. “Back then, the evidence pointed to an inside job and Bud Walker was your primary suspect. You had no reason or right to search every homestead in this area. You did the best you could with the facts at your disposal.”
“I appreciate you saying that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.”
I approached her and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t believe in luck, but had it not been for a fortuitous discovery in our swamps, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. I’d be driving back and forth in front of those woods, never knowing there was a body buried there. As for you, you would’ve retired never knowing what happened to Bud Walker. But here we are, so let’s not look back except to dig for more evidence. From here on out, we’re moving forward and we’re going to find whoever did this.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I know you’re right.”
“After we meet with Katina Walker, I’d like to interview Winona Munday,” I said. “I want to provide her with a list of names of everyone you interviewed back then who lives in this area—see if any of those names stick out to her. She might be the key to breaking this whole thing wide open.”
Susan was chewing on her lower lip like she did when she was thinking.
“What is it, Sue?” I asked.
“What if Winona’s family went after Bud Walker and exacted revenge on him?”
“Nah,” Leah said, shaking her head. “Winona doesn’t have any family around here. She’s originally from Virginia and she ran away from home when she was little. Her father was a
busive. She left to get away from him. She said she hasn’t had contact with them since she left. She was terrified of her dad and said she didn’t want him to ever find out where she lived. Thank God she didn’t die, because her children would’ve had no one to care for them and would’ve ended up in state custody.”
“What about the children’s father?” I asked.
“He was a real winner. He began abusing her immediately after the babies were born. She decided she wasn’t going to stick around for that nonsense.” Leah paused and asked about Zeke’s dad. “How’s he holding up?”
“Not good.”
“I guess not. I couldn’t imagine ever losing one of my kids.” Leah kicked at a rock. “How old was the boy?”
“Fourteen.” I paused and shifted my eyes downward and stared at my boots, considering Zeke McKenzie and my first daughter, Abigail. Had Abigail not been killed, she would’ve been fourteen in October. I frowned. “It’s sad that a young boy had to die just so this secret could be unearthed. It’s sad that any kid has to die—ever.”
Susan could sense that I was thinking about more than Zeke, and she gave my hand a squeeze.
“Are you ready to go catch these assholes?” she asked.
I nodded and walked briskly to my Tahoe. My jaw burned and my chest ached.
CHAPTER 32
“Damn it, Clint,” Amy grumbled, “answer your phone!”
She had called Clint fifteen times and the call had gone straight to voicemail each time. She’d left a message every time and even sent a picture of the hundred dollar bill, but he hadn’t called back yet. Finally, she gave up and secured the money back in the evidence locker.
“Let’s go,” she said to Joseph Billiot when she threw the door open to the lobby.
He looked up, surprised. “Where’s my money?”
“You’re not getting the money back,” she said abruptly. “Let’s go—follow me.”
He turned to stare at the exit. “I thought you were bringing me home.”
