Clint Wolf Mystery Trilogy: Boxed Set

by BJ Bourg

  “Yeah. We were the only ones out there.”

  “Does Randall go out on the water a lot?”

  Dexter shrugged. “I’ve seen him from time to time. He does a little fishing, but that’s all.”

  “Did you talk to them?”

  “No. I saw them from a distance. I was getting my camp ready for the alligator season and didn’t have time to stop and talk.”

  “Can you describe the man?”

  “Nope. Even if I did get a good look at him it would’ve been difficult to recognize him. He was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses.”

  “Were they moving?”

  “No, they were stopped at the edge of the bayou. Randall had a line in the water and the other guy looked like he was messing with his bait.”

  I frowned. “Where on Bayou Tail?”

  “South of the lake.”

  “How far south?”

  Dexter shrugged. “About eight miles.”

  My blood ran cold. Randall Rupe dumped Hays Cain’s body!

  I rushed out the hospital, dialing Susan’s number as I jogged to my new Tahoe. She answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Clint?”

  “Where the hell are you? Are you still watching Randall? Did he go mobile?”

  “Paradise Place…yes…yes.”

  “Where’s Paradise Place?” I asked.

  “The last street south of town. It doesn’t look like much—just a shell road between two rows of cane fields.”

  “I’m on my way!” I pulled onto Main Street and smashed the accelerator, heading south.

  “No! You can’t come here.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too risky. They might see you.”

  “He’s the one, Susan. Randall Rupe dumped Hays’ body.”

  “What?” Susan asked. “Are you shitting me?”

  “No. Dexter Boudreaux saw him this past weekend—right where we found Hays’ body.”

  Susan was quiet for a long moment. “What do we do, Chief?”

  “Where are you, exactly?”

  “I’m parked in the middle of a cane field on the south side of Paradise Place about halfway down. I’m out of sight.”

  “Where’s Randall?”

  “He’s in an old plantation home at the end of the street, and he’s not alone.”

  “Who’s with him?”

  “I can’t be sure. There’re two cars parked in front of the house—Randall’s and someone else’s.”

  I sped through the heart of town, swerving around slower traffic. “Who owns the house?”

  “As far as I know, it’s abandoned.”

  “Can you get close enough to get a license plate on the other car?”

  “No. I got out earlier and walked as far as I could without leaving the cover of the cane fields. I couldn’t get close enough. Maybe if I had some binoculars…”

  I slowed into the last curve on the southern end of town and coasted by Paradise Place. I strained to see the house at the back of the street, but couldn’t. The street was clear. “I just drove by your location.” I pulled to the shoulder of the road.

  “I can’t see the highway,” Susan said. “Do you want me to stay here until he leaves and then see where he goes?”

  I chewed on it for a minute.

  “Clint, are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” I whipped my Tahoe around in the road and headed back north on Main Street. “Look, stay where you are and when Randall leaves, follow him.”

  “Are you driving again? What’re you going to do?”

  “I’m going type up an affidavit for Randall Rupe’s arrest.”

  “You think we have enough?” Susan asked.

  “Maybe not for murder, but definitely for accessory after the fact.” I tossed my phone onto the console beside me and sped back the way I’d come.

  When I reached the police department, I hurried inside and fired up my computer, then hammered away at the keyboard. It took about thirty minutes to detail the facts of the case and print out an affidavit and arrest warrant. With the documents in hand, I grabbed my keys and stepped out of my office.

  As I rushed by Lindsey, I said, “I’m heading to the district attorney’s office. Call my cell if you need me.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The district attorney’s office was twenty miles from Mechant Loup, but I got there in less than fifteen minutes, my mind racing faster than my tires spun. Why on earth would Randall Rupe kill his best friend? I parked my Tahoe in the visitor spot and snatched the affidavit and warrant from my seat. Once I’d entered the building, I asked for the assistant district attorney on duty.

  Within seconds, a woman with long blonde hair and dark brown eyes opened a side door and—after doing a double take at my face—waved me inside. “Are you the new chief of police over in Mechant Loup?”

  I nodded, held out my hand. “I’m Clint. Clint Wolf.”

  “Isabel Compton. I’m the first assistant district attorney here. I wanted to take the opportunity to meet you and welcome you to Chateau Parish. I’ve heard some good things about you and I’m looking forward to working with you. We’ve always worked well with the chiefs in the incorporated towns, and Mechant Loup is no different.”

  I nodded, held up the affidavit. “I need someone to take a look at this before I bring it to the judge.”

  Isabel’s face turned quizzical. “That’s unusual.”

  “What’s that, ma’am?”

  “In all my years of doing this, I don’t think I’ve ever had an officer come to me before they got the warrant.”

  “I just want to make sure you’ll go forward with the case before I present it to a judge.”

  “I usually review cases after the fact.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

  “I know, right? I hate having to dismiss charges due to lack of evidence. The officers who worked the case usually get angry with me, and the defendants are usually emboldened because they feel they beat the system.” She smiled. “This is certainly refreshing.”

  “It’s always been my practice—whenever possible—to get with the district attorney’s office before I move on a major case to make sure we’re all on the same page. It’s just common sense.”

  “I like it.” Isabel took the affidavit. “Please, have a seat.”

  We each took a seat at opposite sides of the desk, and she began to read. A deep furrow formed on her brow as she read. She leaned over and punched an extension number into the phone. A man answered, and she said, “Walter, can you and Reginald come to the duty office for a minute?”

  “Sure. Be there in a second.”

  Isabel looked up at me. “These are serious allegations against a prominent businessman in this parish.”

  “I know. That’s why I thought you needed to see it.”

  The door swung open, and Walter Moore entered with a man I’d never seen. Walter looked different in a suit. When I’d seen him at Susan’s fight he’d been wearing jeans and a pullover shirt. I stood, shook his hand. “I’m Clint Wolf, the new chief of police over in Mechant Loup.”

  “Walter Moore.” Walter indicated to the man with him. “This is Reginald Hoffman. He’s our chief investigator.”

  I shook his hand, too. “Pleasure.”

  “I saw you at the cage fights,” Walter said. “Your officer can kick some serious ass. I tell you what, I’d be scared to be on the wrong side of her law.” He nodded toward my nose. “It looks like you’ve already been there.”

  I nodded, appreciating the humor.

  “Walter, check this out.” Isabel handed him the affidavit, then tapped the desk with an index finger. “Tell me what you think.”

  Walter lowered his head to read it. When he was done, he rubbed a hand through his black curly hair and handed the paperwork to Reginald.

  “This is crazy,” Walter said. “I’ve known Randall Rupe and Hays Cain for years. Randall’s not capable of murdering anyone, much less his best friend. I think you’ve
got this all wrong.”

  “He might not have murdered Hays,” I said, “but he sure was there when his body was dumped. At a minimum, that’s accessory after the fact to murder.”

  “I just don’t see it,” Walter said. “If you told me Randall was involved in some white collar shit—like trying to bribe his high school football coach so he could get more playing time—then I’d say maybe, but murder? No way.”

  “He did that?” I asked.

  Walter waved a hand in the air. “He tried to when we were in high school, but he got in trouble. The coach wasn’t having any of it.”

  “What could a high school kid possibly bride a coach with?”

  “Money…cars. His dad gave him everything he wanted and he tried to use that to convince the coach to make him a starter.” Walter chuckled. “Crazy little shit was a hoot.”

  “What witness saw him out there in the boat?” Isabel asked.

  “Dexter Boudreaux.”

  “Isn’t that the alligator man?” Walter asked.

  I nodded.

  Walter’s brow furrowed. “I thought he died—got eaten by an alligator or something.”

  “No, he survived. He lost an arm. It’ll be a long time before he can get around, but he pulled through.”

  Isabel took the affidavit from Reginald and read over it again. “Did Dexter see anything in the boat that could’ve been a body?”

  I shook my head.

  Isabel looked up at Reginald. “What do you think?”

  “It’s weak, but it looks like he’s onto something.”

  Isabel drummed her finger on the desk, a tiny crease forming between her eyebrows as she pondered her decision. Finally, she pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable moving forward with this just yet. I certainly can’t tell you how to do your job, and you might find a judge who’ll find probable cause, but it’s a far cry from beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  “No, you’re right.” I took the affidavit and warrant from Isabel. “I don’t want to waste time getting a warrant unless you’ll file the charges.”

  “I agree with Reginald—it looks like you’re definitely onto something. He might not be capable of murder, as Walter points out, but it’s no coincidence he was seen where Hays Cain’s body was dumped. Get me a little more evidence and we’ll talk.”

  I thanked Isabel, Walter, and Reginald, stood to leave. Reginald stopped me. “Any leads on who the other guy is?”

  “No, but I’ve got some ideas.” My phone screamed from my pocket. I fished it out and saw Susan was calling. I nodded my goodbyes and said, “I have to take this. Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Hey, are you there, Clint?” I heard Susan’s muffled voice ask from my palm.

  I rushed out the door, shoving the phone to my ear. “I’m here. What’s going on?”

  “He drove back to the dealership. He didn’t stop anywhere. Just left that plantation house and drove straight back.”

  “What about the other car? Did it leave, too?”

  “Not while I was there. I tailed Randall and when he got back to the dealership, I doubled back to the plantation house, but the other vehicle was gone.”

  “Could you see what kind of car it was? When you were there the first time?”

  “I was too far to get a good look at it, but I’m pretty sure it was a truck.”

  “That narrows it down for us—in a town where everyone from fishermen to nuns drives a truck.” I slipped into my Tahoe and checked the dashboard clock. It was getting close to knockoff time. “You can call it a day. I think we’ll bring him in tomorrow and squeeze him.”

  “Sounds good. See you at the office.”

  Thirty minutes later, I turned into the sally port and stepped out of my Tahoe, pausing to scan the area outside the double garage door. The street was quiet. The shadows were long, the sun making its slow dive behind me. A soft, warm breeze caressed my face. Had I not known better, I would’ve thought it was just another peaceful day in small-town Louisiana. But I did know better. I knew there was a killer on the loose, and I had to find him before he struck again.

  “What’re you doing out here?”

  The voice startled me, and I turned to see Susan standing at the back door to the station. She strode up beside me and stared out into the waning daylight. Neither of us said anything for a long moment. Finally, I turned on my heels and walked inside. Jack and William were sitting at Marsha’s desk talking with her.

  Marsha lifted a finger when she saw me, grabbed some paperwork from her desk and handed it to me. “This was faxed over twenty minutes ago.”

  It was a firearms examination form. Susan sidled up beside me, leaning to read with me. “The projectiles match!”

  “Yep,” I said. “Whoever killed Hays Cain also killed Kelly Dykes.”

  “Who do you think it is?” William asked.

  I shook my head. “Randall Rupe’s involved, that’s for sure.”

  “But what if he isn’t?” Susan asked. “What if he’s got nothing at all to do with it? After all, everyone said they were best of friends.”

  I had been a detective long enough to know the most obvious suspect was not always the correct suspect.

  “Whoever it was, they were brazen enough to try and murder two cops,” Jack said. “We aren’t dealing with amateurs here.”

  I shook my head. “Whoever shot at us didn’t want to hit us. They wanted us to duck down long enough for them to get away.”

  CHAPTER 31

  I mentally punched myself in the gut when I pulled into my driveway at home and saw Chloe sitting on the front porch. I’d forgotten about our date. She wore a summer dress similar to the one she’d worn earlier, but this one was dark blue and shorter than the other one.

  You belong on a magazine cover!

  Chloe looked up from her phone when I stepped out of my Tahoe. I could hear Achilles barking from his crate. I grinned inwardly. He was trying so hard to sound like a big dog, but his shriek of a bark wouldn’t scare anyone away anytime soon.

  “Hey, look who finally decided to come home.” Chloe’s voice was cheery, seemingly unbothered that I was late. She shot a thumb toward the house. “Your dog is carrying on like I ate his lunch.”

  I pushed my door shut and walked toward her, stopping a few feet from the edge of the porch. “I had to work late. I’m sorry. It totally slipped my mind. You know, some work stuff came up and I had—”

  “What the hell happened to you?” Chloe propelled herself toward me. She stopped inches away and gawked up at my nose. “Jesus Christ! Who did this to you?”

  “It’s nothing. I ran into something.”

  She poked it lightly with a finger. “Do you think it’s broken?”

  “Hard to tell.” I apologized again for forgetting. “We’ve been busy in town, what with all that’s going on.”

  “I guess you forgot what I do for a living.” Chloe smiled. “I understand what it’s like to have something drop in your lap at the last minute. When a story is hot, you’ve got to run with it. I totally get it. No worries.”

  I smiled my thanks for the understanding, then stood there not knowing what to do next.

  “Well,” Chloe said, “why don’t we go inside and get you cleaned up. If you let me, I can put a little base on your nose so it’s not so noticeable.”

  “Base? What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Makeup.”

  I scoffed. “There’s no way you’re putting makeup on me.”

  “We won’t call it makeup…we’ll just call it war paint.”

  “You’re not putting any of it on me.” I tapped the bridge of my nose. It was still a little sore, but not nearly as bad as earlier. I looked down at Chloe and shrugged. “Well, I know it’s later than you planned. What do you want to do?”

  “Whatever you want. By the way, what’s going on? Did you have a break in the case?”

  “I can’t really talk about it.”

  Chloe
’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You told me about Hays Cain and Kelly Dykes, and I told you about my source. We shared information. You didn’t have a problem with it then.”

  “It’s just that…” I rubbed my hands together, staring into her soft blue eyes. “Well, I don’t want to become too comfortable talking shop.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you received exclusive information from me about work and your competitors found out, they might cry foul. You know?”

  “I guess you’re right. I’d rather talk about you anyway. I want to know what makes you sweat, Chief Clint Wolf.” Chloe put a cool hand against my cheek and smiled.

  My pulse quickened. “Well, let me get cleaned up so we can go eat.”

  Chloe’s face lit up. “Great! Let’s do this.”

  I pushed open the door and walked to Achilles’ crate. When I let him out, he rushed between my legs. I stumbled, and took a large step to avoid smashing him. He barked up at Chloe, sniffing her leg aggressively. His tail wagged, so I figured there was no danger of him trying to bite her with his needle-sharp puppy teeth. I hurried into the kitchen and snatched up the three empty bottles of vodka still out on the counter.

  “Someone was thirsty,” Chloe said. She had walked into the kitchen and stood behind me. “Celebrating something?”

  Without saying a word, I dropped the bottles into the garbage can. Achilles’ head jerked up when the bottles clanked against each other.

  “Do you mind taking him out to do his business while I shower?” I asked. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “I’d love to!”

  I hurried through a shower and then dressed into my newest jeans and pullover shirt—“new” meaning several years old. When I walked out, Chloe looked me up and down. “Black jeans,” she said, smirking. “I didn’t know they made those anymore.”

  I shrugged. “They were on sale somewhere about ten years ago. As long as they’re not letting air in, they’re still good enough for me.”

  “No matter…you make the nineties look better than they’ve ever looked.”

  I felt a stirring deep inside my gut. I approached Achilles’ food and water bowls to reload them, but they were full.