Murder on a Saturday Night

by K. C. Sivils

  "You look worse than I do," he chuckled. Heat's grin vanished. "Yeah, well, be thankful I heard some noise when I got out of that tunnel, or you might be dead."

  Heat retraced his steps back into the house with Boucher stumbling along behind. The pair moved without making a sound, reaching the room where a grand circular staircase allowed access to the second floor.

  "You stay here," Heat ordered. "There's another set of stairs, for the servants, I guess, by where the tunnel entrance to the house is hidden."

  “I think that might be best,” Boucher mumbled, easing himself into a chair where he could watch the stairs from the shadows.

  “Challenge first, then shoot if you can’t tell who it is coming down the stairs,” Heat ordered.

  "I'm not an idiot," Boucher snapped, waving Heat away with his sidearm. "Go get Anna and those two girls, and then get me to a doctor."

  Too angry and miserable to respond, Heat slipped away, heading towards the steep, narrow set of stairs near the rear of the house meant to be used by servants. His heart raced as he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Each step up the stairs was stressful as the slightest sound could bring down disaster on everyone.

  An explosion was coming, and Heat could sense it wouldn't take much for him to lose control. His best friend had a bullet in his shoulder, and it was Anna's fault as much as it was the hired gun who'd shot Boucher. Anna was somewhere upstairs with her daughter and another young girl, and that was the fault of Nick Devereaux, the man Anna had married instead of him.

  Several steps from the top of the stairs, Heat stopped to rest and steady himself. While Heat rested, he considered the idea of telling whoever had grabbed Nick Devereaux to let him take Anna and the two young girls. Heat would promise to keep his mouth shut and forget everything he knew about the situation. It wasn't like Devereaux didn't have it coming.

  He climbed the last few steps with caution and stood on the landing, listening. Heat could hear faint voices in a room on the far end of the south wing of the house. Picturing Anna's face as he told the kidnapper his offer was enough to make Heat drop the idea. He hated himself for thinking of it, while at the same time, he hated himself for not being able to carry the idea out.

  Heat was angry, confused, and unsure of what the right thing to do was. But, as Heat reached for the doorknob to exit the servant's workroom, he was sure of only one thing.

  When everything was over, if he survived, Nick Devereaux was getting his ass kicked.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “Mr. Devereaux, this is the last chance you will be given.”

  Nick looked at the man. Everything about the man, his body language, the tone of his voice, everything, told Nick this was the last hand. He licked his lips in anticipation.

  "Your wife, unlike you, is reasonably cooperative. She followed directions, save for the unfortunate fact she brought someone with her, and it cost the man his life."

  “See,” Nick said as he grinned. “I’m not the only difficult one in my family.”

  Ignoring Nick's remark, the man continued speaking. "Note, if you will, the beautiful dress she is wearing." The man looked Anna up and down in an admiring manner, one that did not make her feel threatened. Instead, he smiled politely as he spoke. "Mrs. Devereaux, you are truly a spectacularly beautiful woman, and that dress flatters you."

  The smile vanished as he turned his attention back to Nick. “Does the dress remind you of anything?”

  It was Nick’s turn to turn his gaze on his wife. His captor was correct, Nick noted to himself. Anna looked stunning in the red dress. She was still every bit the trophy wife that he had married all those years ago. He swallowed as he looked at Anna's graceful form, so artfully displayed by the designer gown. It wasn't the dress that his captor wanted him to see. In fact, Anna could have been wearing any dress, and it would have served the man's purpose.

  It was the color red.

  Nick felt violently ill, his entire body strained against the duct tape that bound him to the chair. His captor watched with pleasure as Nick’s body betrayed him.

  “I see you remember now.”

  “Yeah,” Nick gasped. “I remember. I remember how she was high as a kite and rubbed her body against every guy there that night. What did she think was going to happen?”

  “It doesn’t matter how my daughter acted. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

  "That's a joke, and you know it," Nick laughed savagely. "She teased the wrong guy, and she paid for it."

  Anna didn't make the mistake of hitting her husband with her fist a second time. Instead, she slapped him with her left hand and, for good measure, spit in Nick's face.

  “Did you rape that girl?”

  Nick lifted his head and let his eyes burn with hate as he stared at Anna.

  “Me? Rape a loose woman? Why? Tell me why I would do that, Anna?”

  “Did you do it?”

  “No, I didn’t. That's not my thing, and you know it, wife of mine."

  “Ask him what he did, Mrs. Devereaux. Go ahead, ask him.”

  Anna glared at Nick, not speaking.

  “I didn’t touch her,” Nick said firmly. “He knows it too.”

  "What he did, Mrs. Devereaux was introduce my daughter to his friends at the club that night. Friends who, shall we say, are into that sort of thing."

  “Anna, it wasn’t like that,” Nick said calmly.

  "They took turns. Then they beat my daughter and dumped her in a parking lot without her clothes. Your husband not only watched; he filmed the entire attack."

  “I don’t believe you,” Anna shouted. She moved to the couch and sat down next to Becca, pulling her daughter against her, holding her tight.

  “Would you believe a copy of the film that I had the misfortune of finding on the internet,” the man said calmly. “On my dead daughter’s computer, no less. The same computer where she typed her suicide note.”

  “That you would do,” Anna snarled, leaping to her feet and kicking her husband square in the chest, knocking him and the chair over. Standing over her husband, hate in her eyes, Anna failed to notice the broad smile on the face of the dead girl’s father.

  “Look out!” Becca’s warning was followed by an ear-piercing scream from Katie as the man who’d brought Anna to the room fell to the floor, blood pouring from a wicked gash on the back of his head. The clatter of Heat’s crowbar falling to the floor seemed deafening.

  “Well, it would seem you brought more than one individual with you, Mrs. Devereaux.”

  “You took my husband, my daughter, and you took my best friend’s daughter! What did you think I was going to do, you monster!”

  The man shook his head disapprovingly, a sad expression on his face. He stared at Heat, who remained motionless, observing and listening.

  "She was our only child, you see," he said softly. "I worked so hard to give her everything, just like most good parents do. My wife and I were so proud of her. She'd gotten a full scholarship to go to school at Cal. My baby girl had never done anything like this before in her life. She just wanted to celebrate with her friends, and she made some very poor choices that night."

  “I’m sorry,” Anna snapped. “It still doesn’t give you the right to do what you did!”

  The man's expression turned sour, and he spoke in an even tone, tinged with rage. "Really? I'm afraid I disagree. My wife left me, and I let her go. I understood why. I sold my business for quite a bit of money and gave her half in the divorce. I gave her whatever she wanted."

  “How nice of you,” Nick moaned. “Help me up, Becca.”

  Becca jumped up and ran to her father. She strained to lift the chair into an upright position. Unable to do so, she motioned for Katie to help, and together the pair managed to raise Nick and the chair into an upright position. Anna stood motionless, ignoring Nick, the girls, and Heat, who watched and listened in disbelief.

  “I spent the rest of my fortune hunting down the other four men in th
at group. Two died of cancer which I suppose is fitting, but they escaped the justice I had planned for them. My employee, the one you met earlier, disposed of the other two. But your husband, the man behind all of it, he was going to suffer a just fate.”

  “I didn’t touch her,” Nick screamed.

  "No, you gave her the drugs," the man said in his precise manner. "You passed her along to the others, all of which was bad enough. With help, my baby could have survived the nightmare you and your friends inflicted on her. But she couldn't survive seeing a film of it on the internet. A film you made and posted."

  Nick opened his mouth to speak only to be silenced as the man snapped his right arm up, a .45 semi-automatic in his hand.

  "Yes, you did. You sold it to the website. Like I said, Nick Devereaux, I spent my fortune hunting down those responsible, collecting the evidence so I could be certain I imposed justice on the guilty."

  “Then why my daughter,” Anna shrieked, causing the man to flinch.

  “Your daughter was never in any physical danger,” the man answered. “I just wanted her to know the truth about her father. I wanted you to know the truth about your husband.” He glanced at Katie and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, young lady. It was simply bad luck.”

  “Now what,” Nick asked, leaning forward in his chair.

  The man laughed at Nick's appearance. His normally perfectly groomed hair was a mess. His face was battered, bruised, and swollen. Blood covered the front of his shirt, and a fresh streak of the precious fluid was congealing on his lip and chin from when Anna had struck him.

  “You have a choice, Nick. The same choice I’ve been offering you all along. Confess your sin and repent, or not. It’s up to you.”

  “That’s it,” an incredulous Nick asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, that’s it,” the man answered. “It’s the only way you can prevent yourself from burning in hell after I shoot you.”

  A thick, hot silence filled the room, and Nick and the man stared at each other, each man trying desperately to read the other's mind.

  The ear-splitting thunder of a gunshot in a confined space made Anna and the two girls start in fear. Nobody moved or made a sound. They just stared at the dead body.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “Heat, I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything,” Arceneaux informed him.

  “What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him shoot Devereaux?”

  Arceneaux glanced around at the flashing police lights and the EMS Ambulance where Boucher lay on a stretcher, talking to Sharon.

  "To be honest, Heat. If it were me, I would have let the guy blast this Devereaux, and then I'd have pulled the trigger," Arceneaux said softly. "Would be a whole lot less paperwork for me and less legal trouble for you."

  “I have a permit for Louisiana,” Heat commented dryly. “And a license as well. The witnesses will clear me. Plus, I didn’t kill the hitman or the perp who shot Boucher.”

  “I guess, but this isn’t my jurisdiction, Heat.”

  “Solved your case for you. The hitman’s all yours. Kidnapper, too.”

  "Yeah, well, I suppose there's that." Arceneaux shook his head. "There's going to be lots of paperwork on this one, Heat. Multi-parish jurisdiction, attempted murder, kidnapping, which means the feds will get involved, I don't know."

  “Well, I do,” Heat told his friend. “I didn’t have a choice. He might have shot Anna.”

  Arceneaux talked with Heat for a few more minutes and then went and said goodbye to Boucher. Heat watched as the detective got in his unmarked car and left. It would be a long couple of days. Arceneaux was right about that. The media would have a field day with this one. That would mean the local district attorney would want to milk it for all it was worth, as would the local Sheriff, both of whom were up for re-election.

  Boucher would live, perhaps a little wiser for his brush with death. Anna would get a huge bill as Heat intended for her to pay every dime of his legal bills as well as what she owed him, not to mention Boucher’s medical bills.

  Heat felt sorry for the two girls, Becca and Katie, but there was nothing he could do about it. What happened had been set in motion long ago by Nick Devereaux. There was a lot of couch time in the future for both girls as they would likely need professional help to deal with the nightmare of being kidnapped and witnessing someone being shot to death.

  “Mr. Heatley?”

  Heat nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his name being spoken. He turned around to find Becca and Katie standing there, each with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders.

  Becca smiled sweetly at him and spoke, “Thank you.”

  “For what,” was Heat’s gruff response.

  "Saving my daddy. I know he's no good. I knew it before all of this happened."

  “Sorry to hear that. A kid should be able to look up to their dad.”

  “It’s okay,” Becca answered. “It’s my mom who can’t deal with it.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you about that.”

  “Grandma says you and my mom used to be an item. That you were engaged once.”

  Heat grunted like the wind had been knocked out of him.

  “Sharon told you that?”

  Becca nodded. "Said my mom broke your heart. Said that's why you're the way you are." Becca shrugged sadly. "I don't know what grandma means by that, but like I said, Mr. Heatley, thanks. You saved my family because I, for one, didn't believe that man when he said nothing was going to happen to Katie and me."

  “Well, everything will be okay,” Heat mumbled, looking around for the local Sheriff in hopes the man would come and take him into custody, allowing him to escape from the uncomfortable predicament he found himself in.

  “Maybe my mom will get a divorce now,” Becca said hopefully.

  Heat took a step away from the two girls, frowning at both of them. “Why would you say something like that?”

  "Because my dad's no good. I love him, but, well, he's bad for my mom, and after this," Becca shrugged again. "I don't want to be around him either."

  “You’re a smart kid,” Heat told Becca. “Thanks for what you said.” Heat bowed his head and began to walk away in the direction of the police cars.

  “Stupid kid,” Heat mumbled to himself. “What would make a kid say things like that.”

  Heat approached a deputy and nodded at the man. “Can you tell me where the Sheriff is? I want to get out of here.”

  “I’ll go get him for you,” the deputy replied, vanishing into the glare of the blue and red lights.

  Heat shoved his hands in the pockets of his filthy pants and wished for a hot shower and clean clothes for the twentieth or so time in the last half hour. As he waited, his eyes fell on the rear window of a squad car. Sitting in the back, looking frightened and disheveled, was Nick Devereaux. Heat had wasted no time telling the first officer on the scene that Nick was guilty of a wide range of crimes, including facilitating a rape. For good measure, the officer had cuffed Nick and stuffed him in a squad car.

  Nick lifted his head and looked directly at Heat. Nick's empty eyes filled lit up with spite as the squad car's engine started and pulled away. Heat felt empty inside, unable to hate the man despite every fiber of his being wanted to.

  “Heat?”

  "What now," Heat snapped, spinning around to find Anna standing behind him.

  “What is your problem,” Anna asked, hands on hips. “I just wanted to thank you.”

  "Yeah, well, you can thank me by paying your bill on time. It's going to be a big one, too. What with my legal expenses and Boucher's medical bills.”

  Anna stood silently, letting Heat simmer for a minute. He had every right to be angry. She decided to humble herself and tell him so.

  “You have every right to be furious. Send me the bills as you get them, and I will see to it they are paid promptly.”

  “I’m not angry about this, this mess,” Heat s
aid, waving his hands around.

  “What then?”

  "I'm angry because you never told me why. I'm angry because you just left me hanging. You hurt me, Anna. You humiliated me. Then, out of nowhere, you just show up and manipulate me into hunting down your no-good bum of a husband who's missing. And, and, if I didn't already hate the guy enough, I find out he's worse than I thought, and I wind up killing a man who probably didn't deserve it!"

  Anna looked around, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment. Heat’s own ears were ringing, and he realized everyone was looking at him.

  He’d been shouting at Anna.

  "I deserved that, I suppose," Anna said with a meekness that surprised Heat. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked away. Heat stood and watched as Anna collected the two girls, climbed into the back of a squad car, and shut the door. She never looked back in his direction.

  "She still loves you; you know that, don't you, James?"

  Heat didn’t turn around.

  “Sharon, she has a funny way of showing it.”

  “Please, James, find it in your heart to forgive my baby girl.”

  Tears welled up in Heat’s eyes as his heart broke for the millionth time.

  “Why should I, Sharon?”

  “She’s going to leave him, James.”

  “Should never have married him in the first place.”

  “Anna knows that now, James.”

  “Good for her, Sharon. I need to go. I figure I’ve got a long couple of days being questioned ahead of me.”

  “James, Anna doesn’t do well alone. She’s tough, but she won’t survive what’s coming alone. The media, the divorce, Hollywood, raising her children, all of that, James. Anna will need a strong man she can depend on to get through all of that.”

  “Should have married one the first time, Sharon,” Heat said softly, trying to keep his voice from cracking with sorrow. “She’s a catch, Sharon. Mark my words, Anna will find that man this time around.”

  Sharon watched, her own heart breaking as Heat shuffled off towards the ambulance where his friend was grinning from ear-to-ear as he entertained the cute blonde paramedic attending to him. She knew Anna would find another man. It wouldn't take her daughter long.