by BJ Bourg
I recapped the incidents of the past few days and provided brief summations of the statements of Otis Williams, Nelly Martinez, and Camille Rainey. I then stood and approached the dry erase board on the wall across from Susan’s desk. I began writing on it before turning to face Susan and the mayor.
“Our first victim was Frank Jones,” I explained. “He was jerked off the back of his kayak on Friday evening in Lake Berg. Next came Camille. She was pulled under at around three o’clock on Monday afternoon in Le Diable Lake. Later on Monday night, also in le Diable Lake, Chrissy Graves was dragged into the water. Of the three attacks, only Camille survived, and she was able to give us enough information to conclude that these were homicides.”
“Homicides?” Pauline echoed. “Are you sure? The media is quoting a source close to the investigation as saying this is the work of some evil spirit or something. They claim a monster is lurking in the waters of Le Diable, and they’re citing an official source from Mechant Loup.”
“It’s no one from the police department,” I said with confidence. “I can guarantee you that.”
“I don’t think it is, but I’d like to know who’s feeding this bullshit to the media.” She shook her head and dragged a chair around to the side of the desk from where she could see Susan and me. She plopped down in it. “This thing is spreading like wildfire. People are calling to cancel their rentals. Brennan Boudreaux said forty percent of his swamp tours for the next three weeks have also been cancelled. He said people are citing the multiple drowning incidents in the area as the reason. It’s causing a panic and hurting tourism in town. Just go walk down Washington Avenue. It seems the only people milling around are townsfolk and the media.”
“Yeah,” Susan agreed, “I’ve been turning down calls and visits from reporters all morning long.”
Pauline leaned back in her chair and studied the dry erase board. “How sure are you that these drowning incidents are connected and are actually homicides? Is it possible an animal is doing this?”
“Not likely,” I said. “There would be some sort of evidence left behind on the bodies—claw marks or teeth marks. We’ve got none of that. The thing that makes the most sense is that a human being is lurking underwater in scuba gear and pulling our victims to their deaths. You can grab someone with your hands and pull them under without leaving a mark.”
“Has this ever happened before?” Pauline asked. “Drowning people in this manner?”
“Perhaps.” I shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.”
“But what would be the motive for such killings?” Pauline seemed to be having a hard time wrapping her brain around the idea.
“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” I returned to my chair and rested my feet on Susan’s desk. “Unless this is the work of some psychopath who kills for the pleasure of it, someone stands to gain from these murders.”
“What could be gained from drowning a few tourists?” Pauline pressed.
I dropped my boots to the ground and stood to my feet. “That, I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”
Pauline and Susan also stood.
“Go work your magic, Clint Wolf,” Pauline said as she turned to leave the office. “Let me know if you need anything—anything at all.”
CHAPTER 21
When I made my way to Amy’s office, I learned that she had located two dive shops in the area. One was in a neighboring parish and the other was located south of Mechant Loup on the coast.
“My bet is on the one near the Port of Lower Chateau,” she said. “It’s much closer to Le Diable Lake. You could actually access the lake from the Port through the Intracoastal Waterway.”
I hadn’t even sat down, and I didn’t bother doing so now. “What’s the name of the place?”
“Spearmonger’s Diving. It’s owned by a woman named Natalie Conway.”
Amy gathered up her notes and followed me outside. We had stopped briefly to let Lindsey Savoie—our daytime dispatcher—know where we were going, and then Amy jumped in with me and we headed up Washington Avenue in my black Tahoe.
The coast was roughly twenty miles south of town along Old Blackbird Highway. We settled in for the drive. I would’ve been fine being left alone to my thoughts about the case, but Amy was in a talkative mood. She talked a lot about Letiche and she had my stomach in stitches for most of the drive. It felt good to laugh so much. For most of the drive, I forgot about the case.
“I swear, if Letiche looks a little more alligator than human,” she said, “I’ll marry the bastard. He can’t be any worse than Trevor was.”
After I stopped laughing, I posed a serious question. “Is his name Letiche, or is he a Letiche?”
“Huh, I’m not sure!” She scowled. “That’s a good question. I’ll just call him Lettie—and when I’m not in the mood, I’ll call him Let-me-be.”
I laughed some more. At least her commentary helped to make the drive seem short. Once we’d passed the last of the neighborhoods, there wasn’t much to see. It was just a two-lane road with a bayou on one side and the marsh on the other side. We drove by a dozen or so cars parked on the shoulder of the road. These were mostly people fishing for food. They had families to feed and couldn’t afford a boat to go out on the water. Luckily for them, they lived where bayous and marshlands could be accessed by any number of public roads.
“Look, that guy’s got a giant redfish!” Amy said, pointing and twisting around in her seat as we drove by. She quit talking about her imagined husband-to-be, but only for a second. The fisherman had barely disappeared from my side mirror when she was back to talking about Letiche.
“You know,” I said when the sign for Spearmonger’s came into view, “you’d better not talk like that in front of the mayor.”
“Oh, no—why not?”
“She said someone leaked information to the media.”
“What kind of information?”
“They claimed a monster was pulling people into the water and drowning them.”
“Well, that’s the word.”
“They cited a source close to the investigation.”
Amy was thoughtful. “Does she think it’s me?”
“She’s not aware of your fascination with Letiche, so no.”
“Well, she’d better not piss me off, ’cause I’ll go on Nancy Grace tonight and blow the whole lid off of this conspiracy.” She paused, thoughtful. “You know, if this diver thing doesn’t pan out, it’ll scare the shit out of me.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of something nonhuman doing this was very unnerving, so I only nodded and stepped out of the Tahoe. The sun was bright and the wind was blowing hard, as it often did this close to the Gulf of Mexico. I could taste the salt on the air and welcomed it.
The dive shop was located under a restaurant called Fantasy Slip. I’d been to the restaurant before, but I never knew there was a dive shop beneath it. To the right of the dive shop, there was a bar propped up high on creosote pilings, and farther still to the right was a motel also up on pilings. A long pier began at the parking lot between the bar and the motel and extended westward for quite a distance. Along this pier, there were at least fifty boats tied up. Several rough-looking men strode along the wharf. A few of them glanced in Amy’s direction, and I noticed their glances held.
“Better tread softly,” I warned under my breath. “She gives new meaning to grabbing a tiger by the tail.”
“What?” Amy asked over her shoulder as she reached for the door handle.
“Just talking to myself.”
CHAPTER 22
Once we’d stepped through the door, I paused to look around the shop for a second. I’d never been inside a dive shop before, but I was certain I’d just stepped into a diver’s paradise. A large selection of pole spears and spear guns lined a section of the wall. There were tanks, fins, and wetsuits for sale. Some of the wetsuits were camouflaged with ocean patterns. I had never consi
dered such a thing, but it definitely made sense. If you didn’t want to be seen in the water, you’d need to blend into your background. I considered our suspect, and realized he or she wouldn’t need to blend into the background of the lake. The water there was black, so he could’ve worn any color he wanted.
“Can I help y’all?” asked the woman behind the counter. It was obvious she lived in the sun. Her hair had been bleached by the same sun that had cooked her skin to a deep bronze color. She wore a bright orange tank top that seemed much brighter against her tanned features.
Amy took the lead on the interview. After identifying us, she asked, “Are you Natalie Conway?”
“Ever since the day I was born.”
“We’re looking for someone who might’ve rented scuba diving equipment recently.”
The woman snorted. “Why don’t I give you a list of who didn’t? It would be much shorter.”
“What about narrowing it down to only the out-of-towners?”
“They were all from out of town.”
Amy nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. I was curious to see what she would come up with. As for me, I wasn’t sure how to tackle this problem. We had nothing but a weak hunch to go on. Even the hunch didn’t offer any possible leads. It was like finding out our suspect’s last name was Boudreaux and that he was from Chateau Parish—nearly everyone would be a suspect.
Amy finally leaned on the glass counter and lowered her voice. “Look, we’re working a murder case. We think someone’s been lurking under Le Diable Lake in scuba gear and drowning people.”
The woman’s face brightened and her green eyes sparkled. “Hot damn it, I was right!”
“Excuse me?” Amy asked.
“I heard about those drownings on the news yesterday. The reporter was saying they believed a monster was doing this.” She scoffed. “The only kind of water monster that could do such a thing would be an octopus, and we don’t have those around here.”
“How did you know it wasn’t an alligator?” Amy challenged.
“They would’ve said it was an alligator,” Natalie said simply. “Alligators do a lot of damage when they bite. I figured if the news was calling it a monster and a mystery, then I figured there were no marks on the body. That’s when I knew it had to be a person wearing scuba gear.”
“Why would you come up with that?” Amy asked, her curiosity clearly aroused. “Of all things, why would you figure that’s what was happening?”
“Have you ever been diving?” Natalie asked.
Amy shook her head.
“If you ever do and there are people swimming above you, just look up.” She leaned close, her eyes twinkling. “Their feet look like worms just waiting to be grabbed.”
“Have you ever grabbed a person’s leg and pulled them under?” Amy wanted to know.
To my surprise, Natalie admitted that she had.
“Lots of times.” She shrugged. “Friends mostly. I like a good joke, and there’s nothing funnier than swimming up under someone and pulling them under by their feet. It’s every swimmer’s worst nightmare.”
“Well, drowning isn’t funny,” Amy said testily. “We’ve got two dead victims on our hands and we’ve got no answers.”
“No, you’re right—drowning isn’t funny.” Natalie lowered her eyes. “I lost three of my dive buddies to drowning.”
“You can drown in scuba gear?” Amy asked skeptically. “My ex-boyfriend said it was impossible to drown in scuba gear.”
“Your ex is an idiot.”
“I won’t argue with you there,” Amy conceded.
“Diving is safer than driving a car, but we lose about 100 divers each year.” Natalie smiled. “If I had to choose a way to go, that’s how it would be. At least my friends died doing what they loved to do. They’d much rather go out with their gear on than in some hospital somewhere of some kind of disease.”
Amy nodded and was about to ask another question when Natalie interrupted her.
“Wait a minute—the reporter on the news said there were three drowning victims.”
“No, there were only two.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “It’s not like the media gets anything right any more these days.”
“Well, knowing what you know now,” Amy began, “can you think of any divers who might be capable of doing this?”
“You want me to accuse someone of murder?” Natalie shook her head. “I’m running a business here. I can’t go accusing my customers—who are probably all completely innocent—of anything, much less murder. If I started doing that, I’d surely go out of business. It’s not like things are booming as it is.”
“I’m not asking you to accuse anyone of anything. I’m just asking you to point me in a direction.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Look, has anyone ever given you the creeps? Anyone ever come through here and you thought they could be a rapist or a murderer? I know you pick up on things. I can tell you’re pretty discerning. I just need to know if anyone’s ever given off some bad vibes recently. And if they mentioned being in Le Diable or Lake Berg, then that would increase the vibe.”
“Gabe Burke.”
Amy glanced at me and then back at Natalie. “Gabe Burke? What about him? He gave you a bad vibe or was he in Le Diable recently?”
“Both.” She glanced toward the front of the store to make sure no one was approaching the door and leaned forward. “Gabe is trouble. Everyone knows it. Do I think he’s a murderer? Hell no, but word gets around, and I heard he’s been making his rounds of the college parties on Le Diable. From what was told to me, he gets in the water in his gear and swims to the boats while the college students are getting drunk—”
The phone suddenly rang and I almost jumped out of my skin.
Natalie apologized and took the call. Amy and I traded looks. As for me, my heart was pounding in my chest at this new revelation. I could feel the case starting to come together. When Natalie hung up, she continued.
“Anyway, I was told he sneaks up on the boats and steals things. Mostly, he looks for loose cash, drugs, cell phones, and jewelry, but I was told he found a gun once.”
Amy glanced over at me. “Do you remember getting any theft reports from those parties?”
I shook my head, shrugging. “You know how it is when you’re drinking. You don’t even realize you’ve lost anything until you put on those same clothes a month later and find a bill in your pocket.”
“Yeah,” Amy said in agreement. “Also, if they’re from out of town, chances are they won’t even realize they had something missing until they got home. By that time, they wouldn’t even know where to begin to find the right jurisdiction to make a report.”
“That’s true,” Natalie said.
“Who told you this information?” Amy asked.
“I don’t really remember who told me or when it was told to me.” She began drumming her fingers on the glass counter. “It might’ve been in the bar. I think it was a couple of weeks ago. I really don’t pay attention to most of the gossip I hear. I’ve got my own problems, if you know what I mean.”
Amy nodded. “What about this weekend and earlier this week—do you know if Gabe was in Le Diable then?”
“I’m not sure where he was, because he’s not allowed in here anymore. I threw him out three months ago and told him not to come back.” She shrugged. “But he’s usually on the water.”
“Where can we find him when he’s not on the water?”
“He lives in his boat. He keeps it docked a few miles up the road.” Natalie angled her head to the north. “You’ll pass two large trawl boats docked on the right side of the road, a few houses to the left, and then you’ll see a tiny blue boat about a hundred yards farther. It’s got a small wheelhouse with a white ice box on top of it. The dock is cluttered and the wood is rotting. Be careful that you don’t fall through.”
“If he’s not there, where else might we find him?”
“Well, he
can’t stay at the motel anymore because he owes them too much money. Most people are tired of his shit and they don’t let him come around. If his boat is docked, he’s home. If it’s not, he’s on the water somewhere—probably stealing. Those are the only two places he might be.”
We thanked Natalie and walked out into the warm sunshine. A storm was brewing in the Gulf and we were supposed to get rain tomorrow or the next day. Hopefully, it would cool things off a little. I usually loved the summer, but even I was growing a little tired of the smothering heat. I’d like to be able to walk outside to check the mail and not return dripping in sweat.
“I want one of those spear guns,” Amy said as we walked to my Tahoe.
“Why?”
“In case he runs.”
CHAPTER 23
When we approached the two trawl boats, I slowed to a crawl and pulled onto the shoulder of Old Blackbird Highway. I wanted to see Gabe before he saw us. I reached onto the back floorboard and retrieved my binoculars. Tilting them so I could look through one of the lenses, I aimed it at Gabe’s boat.
The boat was facing south, so I was viewing the front end of the vessel. The white ice chest box was strapped to the top of the wheel house just like Natalie had described. The windows to the wheel house were tinted and I couldn’t see inside.
“If Natalie’s right, he’s inside,” I said idly, still scanning every inch of the boat that I could see from our vantage point.
Amy got on her cell phone and called Lindsey to run a criminal history check on Gabe. After waiting for a few seconds, she grunted triumphantly. “Thanks, Lindsey,” she said. “You just made my day.”
“He’s got warrants?” I asked.
“Two of them—both for contempt of court. The original charge on the first one is shoplifting and the second is disturbing the peace by fighting and resisting arrest.” She leaned into me. “I told you I should’ve gotten the spear gun.”
“Well, I don’t see him, so we’ll either have to wait until he comes out or just drive up on him. I’ll let you call it.”
