by A. C. Mason
As soon as Caleb walked in to the other interrogation room, he pounced. “Why are you using an alias?”
A deep scowl disfigured Blanchard’s handsome face. “My attorney will be here shortly so I have no comment to any questions from you.”
“Suit yourself.” He walked out, angry with himself for expecting answers.
“You should have known he wouldn’t say anything,” Berthelot said, closing and locking the door behind them. “Shall we leave him here or have an officer bring him back to holding?”
“We ought to stick him back in holding with the other riff raff.” He indicated with a head motion to a man entering the office. “But here’s his attorney. From that smirk on his face, I’d say Blanchard has been sprung.”
Thirty-seven
Later that morning
Caleb’s office phone rang and broke his concentration. This case and Jamie’s suspected deception weighed heavily on his mind. He needed answers. Hoping for one, he picked up the phone.
“This is Ross Jenkins, Baton Rouge PD Homicide,” the caller announced.
Disappointed, he tried to sound upbeat. “Hey, how’s everything going in Red Stick?”
“Some days are good, some bad. You know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I sure do. To what do I owe this call?”
“I believe there’s a strong possibility of a connection between two homicides here and your homicides. If so, we might need to collaborate on the cases.”
Caleb perked up. “Tell me more.”
“On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, we worked a couple of homicides. They seemed unrelated at the time. Both are still unsolved. One was a white female who had a record of arrests for prostitution and drug possession. The other was a white male who frequented areas known for drug activity. There wasn’t any mistletoe left behind in our cases.”
“What makes you think they’re connected to ours?”
“I didn’t until I got a phone call from a local insurance agent.”
Get to the point, man.
“We’ve been getting a lot of pressure from the neighborhoods about prostitutes and drug murders in those areas. I went to the media yesterday with the victims’ photos. They did a Crime Stoppers segment about the two cases last night and a repeat on one of the morning shows.
“Insurance agent Charles Mixson called after seeing the show. It seems he received a phone call Saturday from a woman claiming to be the sister of your victim Joanna Chatelaine.”
Interesting, but disturbing. “What was she calling about?”
“She called to verify the authenticity of a life insurance policy with a payoff of a half a mil.”
“Was she the beneficiary?
“No, a man named Adrien Blanchard.”
Caleb’s heartbeat quickened. “Just what I needed to tie him to the case. But how is this connected to your homicides?”
“Mixson recognized our female victim as the woman who claimed to be Joanna Chatelaine.”
“What about the male victim?”
“He was also there to sign as a witness. The guy used a fake name…Martin Verbois.”
Jubilation! “I gather your victim’s real name is not Verbois.”
“Not even close.”
“Back to the woman who called about the policy,” Caleb said. “Did Mixson say anything about how she sounded?”
“Only that she seemed upset when he confirmed the validity of the policy. Until he saw the Crime Stoppers piece, he figured she was upset because her sister didn’t leave the money to her.”
“Has Blanchard called to file a claim?”
“Yes, but the man told him he’d call back in a few weeks to start the process. Blanchard told him ‘it was for the best’.”
“Gotta give him credit. It would look mighty suspicious if he wanted the money right away.”
After ending the call, Caleb sat for a few minutes to process the information. While happy about receiving the evidence he needed to assign a motive to Joanna Chatelaine’s murder and maybe procure an arrest warrant for Blanchard, he fumed at the idea Jamie purposely withheld her knowledge of the insurance policy. That was how she knew the name Martin Verbois. At least he hoped she didn’t know why Blanchard used Verbois’ name.
He keyed in her number on his phone and waited for her to answer. She answered on the third ring.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the insurance policy you discovered in your sister’s office?”
She didn’t respond for long moment. “How did you find out?”
“That’s not for you to know,” he said gruffly. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I intended to tell you when you were here yesterday, but…”
“There isn’t any excuse except you were protecting your buddy Adrien. If you’d told me, I might have been able to hold on to him longer when he was arrested early this morning for DUI and presenting a false ID.”
“A fake ID?”
“Yeah, guess what name he listed? Martin Verbois.”
She gasped. “None of this makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. He wouldn’t even comment on why he picked that particular name. His attorney got him bonded shortly after he was booked.”
“I know you’re angry with me and I’m sorry. I was not trying to protect Adrien.”
He lowered his voice. “Where are you right now?”
“At my office,” she said.
“Do you have the policy with you?”
“I do have it here.”
“I’ll be at your office in ten minutes to take possession of it.” He disconnected the call.
He grabbed his jacket and started out the door to his office. Berthelot looked up with a questioning expression.
“I’m going to see what I can find out about our latest victim. Hopefully Tracy Dumont has been a visitor to Magdalen House recently.” He left without going into further detail.
~ * ~
Jamie sat with her desk chair positioned toward the window. The sun periodically slipped out from behind clouds, but seemed in a continuous struggle with the gray plumes scattered across the sky. She stared at the fluctuating sunlight, her eyes soaking in weak rays. After four days of overcast skies, even a small amount of sunshine was welcome.
Caleb was angry with her for good reason. Whatever she hoped to accomplish by keeping the insurance policy a secret had certainly backfired. She didn’t even know why she had acted so recklessly. Adrien appeared more and more likely to be her sister’s killer.
She didn’t want to believe he had murdered Joanna. If he needed money that badly, Joanna would have found a way to help him. Most likely, he never mentioned any money problems to her out of embarrassment. His family was one of the wealthiest residents of the parish. Why would he be in financial straits?
Joanna did mention several trips he took to casinos in Lake Charles and Marksville. Gambling losses could be the source of his cash needs. His gambling must be an addiction, and much worse than Joanna had been willing to admit.
She and Joanna were more alike than anyone knew. Neither wanted to acknowledge flaws in a person near and dear to her. But Adrien wasn’t dear to her. She simply couldn’t admit to herself that a murderer had been so near to her and Joanna and she had been too stupid to realize the danger.
Well, now she might be in trouble with the police for withholding evidence. What was she going to do?
A knock on the office door ended her self-analyzing session. Caleb stood in the doorway, his expression glum.
“Come in.” Her tone of voice matched his demeanor. “Have a seat.” She expected him to say no thanks, his business wouldn’t take long. He surprised her and sat in a chair across the desk from her.
“You have the policy?”
She handed the envelope to him and watched him open it and remove the papers. He briefly looked over the policy and returned it to the envelope.
“When did you discover these papers?” he asked, his tone and expression all bus
iness.
“Right before that man ran me off the road.”
His brows lifted slightly. “You didn’t know about Martin Verbois before you saw his signature on this policy?”
“No, I’d never heard of him.”
“Why didn’t you turn this over to me? I don’t understand why you’re protecting Blanchard.”
“I’m not protecting Adrien,” she said. How could she explain her motives when she didn’t understand them herself? “I simply didn’t want to believe he killed my sister. Knowledge of his complicity would be hurt on top of hurt.”
His expression softened. “I understand you’re going through a lot of pain right now. Knowing he killed your sister would hurt even more. I wish I could spare you that pain, but to me, this is enough motive to believe he’s guilty of at least her murder and maybe the others, too.”
“What reason would he have to kill those other women?”
“I didn’t believe he had any connection to them either until we arrested him this morning. The passenger in his car was a stripper from one of those gentlemen’s clubs.”
How could he?
“I did have suspicions he was guilty of something. He seemed desperate. After I discovered the policy, I really began to believe he had killed Joanna. Especially after our conversation Saturday.” Telling him about Adrien owing money will be the nail in his coffin as far as the police are concerned.
“What else haven’t you told me,” he growled.
“Adrien owes a large amount of money. I don’t know to whom. Most likely he’s in debt from gambling. It’s the same amount as the payoff on the policy.”
“Where does he do his gambling?”
“Joanna mentioned casinos in Lake Charles and Marksville.”
“What about other casino towns, like Baton Rouge or the Mississippi Gulf Coast?”
She shook her head. “Those were never mentioned. His gambling problem apparently was worse than Joanna knew about or was willing to admit.”
His jaw muscles tightened. “And you didn’t think this was of any importance?”
“I didn’t believe Adrien was the type of person to commit such a terrible crime. He became a totally different person after Joanna’s murder.”
Caleb stood and leaned over the desk, giving her an intimidating glare. “The reason he was so afraid of being arrested was because he knew if he was convicted of her murder, the insurance company wouldn’t pay off. No wonder he seemed desperate.”
Thirty-eight
Caleb struck the steering wheel with his fist. Jamie’s actions were a betrayal. He should never have even thought about getting close to another woman. Hell, maybe I do need counseling.
Dammit! In his rush to leave Jamie’s office, he had neglected to ask her about Tracy Dumont, Mistletoe Man’s latest victim. He didn’t intend to go back.
His priority was to place Blanchard in the area at the time of each of their homicides. The insurance policy provided a possible motive for the murder of Joanna Chatelaine, and his association with stripper Misty Courville could be an indication of his involvement with prostitutes.
A few minutes later, Caleb sat at his desk at the station studying the policy. He stared at the signatures. Two were definitely forgeries as verified by Jenkins from BRPD. Blanchard’s signature could also be forged.
He checked the data base for Office of Motor Vehicles and pulled up Blanchard’s real driver’s license photo and signature. After comparing the two signatures, Caleb began to doubt the validity of the one on the policy. Granted he didn’t have experience in handwriting analysis… Could someone be setting Blanchard up?
Caleb placed a phone call to the Baton Rouge detective. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he told Jenkins his thoughts concerning the signatures.
“We must be on the same wave length,” Jenkins said. “I was just about to give you a call back. Charles Mixson, the agent, supplied us with video footage from right outside his office on the day he wrote that policy. I’d like you to view it. I also looked at the policy. Since we know for certain two signatures are fraudulent, the other one might be also.
“I tried to match Blanchard’s DL photo to the guy in the video,” the detective added. “But something’s off.”
“Can you upload a copy to me?”
“Sure thing, coming right up. Let me know what you think.”
Minutes later, the video arrived on Caleb’s computer. Jenkins was right. Something was off. With the video somewhat grainy, he couldn’t identify the man who signed Blanchard’s name to the policy, but he definitely wasn’t Blanchard. His body language looked familiar. He just couldn’t place him.
Caleb fished around in his desk drawer and retrieved a thumb drive. He copied the video onto the drive. The chief needs to see this, along with the policy, which he scanned and added to the drive. Stuffing the drive into his pocket, he headed out of his office.
He glanced around the squad room. Where was everyone? None of the homicide detectives were at their desks. He shrugged. Not really unusual. They could be in the break room.
Then he remembered Alisha’s news about the white male victim. Why would they all be at that crime scene? He thought Marino wanted to handle this one alone. Oh hell, I’m out of it. Alisha and Berthelot worked late. They’re probably getting some sleep time. Still, a small tingle of doubt crept into his mind.
Caleb heard voices inside Chief Baker’s office as he approached. A conference of some sort seemed to be in progress. Recognizing the voices as belonging to Alisha and Marino, he stopped short.
“We need to at least call in State Police to help us,” Alisha said with an aggravated tone. “Our department can’t deal with all these homicides so close together.”
“We could handle them if Bourque would let us do our work instead of barking orders while he gets cozy with Jamie Chatelaine,” Marino said.
Caleb fumed at the other detective’s remark. He came close to barging into the office, but restained himself. He wanted to hear more.
“He should be suspended from the case,” Marino continued. “This latest victim’s identity is sure to raise questions about the integrity of anything related to an investigation if Bourque has his hands in the pie.”
“You know Caleb couldn’t possibly have anything to do with that man’s murder,” Alisha snapped.
“No, I don’t and you don’t either.”
“He could be completely innocent,” Baker said. “But Marino’s right about one thing. Unless I remove Bourque from this whole serial killer business, the integrity of all these cases will be in doubt.”
Caleb frowned. Who was this victim?
“I don’t want to call in State Police yet,” Baker continued. “Asking them for help makes me and the department look bad.”
“What a bunch of crap,” Alisha shouted. “Departments ask for assistance all the time.”
“That’s enough, Jackson.”
It was time to get in on this pow-wow before Alisha ended up getting fired along with him. He knocked on the door and didn’t wait to be invited in.
“What am I missing?”
Thirty-nine
Chief Baker scowled. “What did you miss? The latest victim, that’s what. Where have you been all morning?”
“Who the hell is this victim? And what’s his connection to me?” Caleb surveyed the group. “Yes, I overheard part of your conversation. Anyone in the building could’ve heard the loud voices.”
Baker leaned back in his chair. “The victim is James Branson. He’s the reporter who wrote that article in the Review about your confrontation with Blanchard.”
Caleb’s stomach lurched.
“And your affair with Jamie Chatelaine,” Marino gloated.
Anger got the best of him. “Go to hell, Marino. She and I are not having an affair.”
“It sure looks like it. Going for coffee...meeting her at her office…following her home.”
“What? You’ve been tailing me?” Caleb’s face burned
. “Are you the one who talked to the reporter?”
Marino fisted his hands and took a step toward Caleb. “You accusing me of leaking info to the media?”
Baker banged his hand on the desk. “Cool it, both of you.” He eyed Alisha sternly. “I need a few words with these two in private.”
She appeared reluctant to leave, but after a brief pause, brushed past Marino and patted Caleb on his arm.
He acknowledged her gesture with a nod and a faint smile.
“Be seated, gentlemen.” Baker moved his gaze from Caleb to Marino. “We have five murders connected to Mistletoe Man, and Branson’s murder might also be linked. The department can’t afford this infighting.”
“You’re right, Chief. I apologize for the outburst,” Caleb said.
Marino mumbled what sounded like an apology.
“Good. Let’s get down to business. Are there any suspects? Bourque?”
“We only had one prime suspect, Adrien Blanchard, but I’ve uncovered evidence that could potentially put him in the clear.”
Marino jerked his head around. “What is this so-called evidence?”
Caleb explained about the call from Detective Jenkins of BRPD, carefully leaving out Jamie’s connection. He’d be in big trouble if the truth came out. He would deal with that possibility if the situation arose. “Jenkins sent me the security footage from outside the agent’s office taken on the day the policy was written.” Pulling the thumb drive from his pocket, he handed it to Baker. “A copy of the life insurance policy is also on there.
The chief inserted the drive into a USB port on his computer and began to view the video. Caleb and Marino came around and stood behind him.
“That’s the guy who claimed to be Blanchard.” Caleb pointed to the figure. “The quality is slightly grainy, but I can tell he’s not Blanchard. I haven’t verified his whereabouts yet on the day in question.”
Baker stared at the screen for a while. “Since these two characters were not who they claimed to be, this guy might not be either. It’s been a while since I had any contact with Blanchard, but I’m not convinced he’s not Blanchard. What’s your take, Marino?”
