Clint Wolf Mystery Trilogy: Boxed Set

by BJ Bourg

  I sighed and took a seat at the corner of Lindsey’s desk, giving myself a moment to push the news about the Parker brothers out of my head. I also had to think up a strategy, an attack plan. If I mishandled this investigation, things could go south—deep south—in a hurry.

  When I was ready, I recounted what Mrs. Wilson had told me. “We need to find out what happened between Susan’s dad and the DA,” I said. “If we can prove Bill has a personal vendetta against the Wilson family, we can get him removed from the case and maybe even have the grand jury findings overturned.” I paused, looking Melvin in the eyes first and then Amy. “This investigation can get real ugly real fast. Bill’s the most powerful man in the parish.”

  Melvin rubbed his freshly shaved head and whistled. “I never thought I’d be investigating the district attorney of Chateau Parish. This is some heavy shit.”

  I nodded. “It’s not good, that’s for sure, but we need to help Susan. She did nothing wrong—and it’s not just us saying so. His own first assistant and chief investigator believe Susan’s innocent.”

  “But even they are too scared to say anything,” Amy said.

  I nodded. “You’re right, and I can’t ask y’all to go to war with me. At best, this is career suicide. At worse…hell, I don’t even know how bad it can get.”

  “I’m in,” said Amy. “Susan’s as solid as they come and she’d do the same for us.”

  “You already know I’m in,” Melvin said. “I’d die for Susan.”

  I nodded and pointed to Melvin. “Get on the computer and run everything you can on Bill Hedd and Susan’s dad. His name is Isaiah Wilson. Check former addresses, business affiliates, licenses, assets, employment history—everything you can think of. I want to know if there are any connections between the two of them.”

  Melvin was writing as fast as his hand could move. When I finished talking, he nodded and hurried off to the far corner of the room where his desk was situated against the wall. Without looking up, he attacked his keyboard with the fury of a man on a mission.

  I turned to Amy. “Are you familiar with a boxing gym in the north?”

  “I know where it is.”

  “Good...go there and try to find this Damian Conner fellow and find out everything he knows about Isaiah and Bill. When you’re done, let me know what you find out and then go get some rest for the night shift.”

  When she was gone, Lindsey looked up from the book she’d been pretending to read. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Keep an eye on the town.”

  I started to walk out the door, but Melvin stopped me. “What about you, Chief? What are you doing?”

  I paused with my hand on the knob. “I’m going to beg Pauline Cain to buy back my plantation house.”

  “You want me coming out for the night shift tonight, too?”

  I told him I did and then hurried to my Tahoe. I backed out of the sally port, buzzing the driver’s window down as I pulled onto Main Street and headed south toward Kate Drive. The sun was bright, so I turned the visor to block it from my eyes. As I drove, I called Chloe. She’d already made it to the news station and she asked if everything was okay.

  I hesitated, wondering if I should involve her. I’d asked for her assistance before—mostly to elicit the public’s help in providing information—but this was different. I needed someone to go back twenty-one years and search the local newspapers to see if anything big had happened involving Isaiah and Bill.

  “Clint, are you there?”

  “I’m here.” I took a deep breath and then told her what I needed. “Look, if you don’t think it’s appropriate, just forget I asked. I’ll figure out another way to research the information.”

  Chloe didn’t hesitate. “I’ve got an intern assigned to me who’ll love going back through our archives to dig up some local dirt.”

  Relieved, I thanked her.

  “Not so fast, mister—if there’s a story in this, I’m running with it.”

  I knew better than to argue, and hung up as I turned onto Kate Drive. I hadn’t been back to the Cain mansion since investigating her husband’s murder, but everything looked the same. Palm trees and lampposts lined both sides of the street and the end of Kate Drive opened into a cul-de-sac with an enormous waterfall at the center. I stopped at the large double gate and smashed the call button. Before long, the speaker scratched and Pauline’s voice came across, telling me to drive up to the house.

  I waited for the gates to part and cruised up the cobblestone driveway to the front of the mansion, where I slipped out of my Tahoe. One of the heavy wooden doors opened to reveal Pauline standing there, dressed in dark blue leggings with a loose-fitting sleeveless shirt. She tucked a lock of jet-black hair behind one ear and smiled, lighting up her entire face. “It’s good to see you again, Clint.” She descended the flight of stone steps and held out her hand. “Why’d you wait so long to return?”

  Her hand was soft in mine. I released it quickly and apologized for intruding.

  “It’s no intrusion. I was just trying some new workout video. Now that Hays is gone, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands and I figured what better way to spend it than getting back into a twenty-year-old body, am I right?” She laughed and waved for me to follow her inside. “You’re always welcome here.”

  I glanced around, wondering if her assistant, Stephen Butler, was there. I posed the question, but she said she had to retire him, explaining it wasn’t appropriate having a man living in the house now that she was a widow. “He was sad to go, but pleased to know he would never have to work another day in his life, that’s for sure.” She smiled again, clearly proud for having taken care of the man who had taken care of her family for so long. She led me into the living room, pointing for me to take a seat on the couch and calling out to someone named Valerie to bring two lemonades aids. “The lemons were picked this morning from the trees in the backyard. They’re divine!”

  I nodded and waited as she met a heavyset woman at the entrance to the kitchen and retrieved two glasses from her. She handed me one and sat directly beside me, searching my eyes. “So, what can I do for you?”

  I placed the glass on the coffee table and twisted around to face her. I backtracked to last July and started explaining what had happened when Susan saved my life.

  “The whole town knows about that,” she said, interrupting me. “We all know Susan saved your life. She should get a medal, if you ask me.”

  I nodded my agreement and continued, explaining about the grand jury hearing and how she had been indicted for murder and arrested.

  “When did this happen?” Pauline asked, her face turning red.

  “Yesterday. It was all over the news.”

  “I get so frustrated by what’s happening in the world that I’m tempted to get into politics myself.” She lowered her head. “I can’t believe this has happened to Susan. She’s such a good person.”

  “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

  Pauline looked up, her expression curious. “Why’s that?”

  I fidgeted in my seat and explained my proposition.

  “I had thought about making an offer on the property to reclaim it once again, but I realized no one wants that barren piece of land or that dilapidated old plantation.” Pauline waved her hand. “Sorry, but you’re stuck with that property.”

  I tried not to show it, but I felt deflated. She was my one shot at freedom for Susan. There had been no Plan B, no backup. For some reason, I never considered she might say no. She had seemed upset when she’d learned last year that her husband purchased the property and then sold it without her knowledge, and I thought she’d jump at the chance to reclaim it. I stood to go, but Pauline put her hand on my arm. “What’re you doing?”

  “I shouldn’t have bothered you, ma’am. I’m sorry for the—”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she said, pulling me back to the couch. “Sit and listen. I don’t want the property anymore, but I do want to help Susan. Where are they
holding her and what is her bond?”

  After I told her, she stood and grabbed a large cell phone from the foyer table and started texting furiously. She was mouthing the words as she typed, but I could not make out what she was saying. When she was done texting, she reclaimed the seat beside me and placed the phone in her lap. “My lawyer,” she explained. “He’ll text me right back.”

  She was right. Within two minutes, her phone chirped and she held it so I could see. It was a message from her lawyer saying he would head to the detention center within the hour to post Susan’s bail and he would meet with her the next morning to start working on her defense. The relief I felt was so overwhelming it left me breathless. “I…I don’t know how to thank you, ma’am. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done.”

  She smiled, and I recognized the same sense of pride I’d seen earlier. “Just make sure she shows up in court, or you’ll owe me a million dollars worth of property.”

  I nodded and stood with her, wanting to head north to the detention center immediately. I had to be there when Susan was released. I thanked Pauline again and turned to walk out, but she grabbed my arm. “Not so fast, mister.”

  I stopped and faced her, waiting patiently to hear what she had on her mind. She had just dropped a million dollars on Susan, so the least I could do was hear her out.

  “How are you and that girlfriend doing? What’s her name, again? Is it Chloe?”

  “Yes, ma’am, her name’s Chloe. We’re doing great.” I thanked her for asking and answered a few more of her questions. After she was satisfied with my answers, she pushed me toward the door.

  “Now go get Susan out of jail. That poor girl’s a hero, not a criminal, and I don’t want her to spend one minute longer than she needs to spend in there.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Quarter to noon

  Chateau Parish Detention Center

  I watched from the waiting area as Susan signed the bonding slips along with Pauline’s lawyer. When they were done, a loud buzzer sounded and the locking mechanism on the large metal door released and they pushed through to my side. Susan lurched forward and threw her arms around me; squeezing me so tight I thought she’d smother me. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in my ear. “But how’d you do it?”

  When she let me go, I stepped back and explained everything to her. Her mouth dropped open. “Pauline did that for me?” I nodded and watched as she brushed her hair behind her ears. It was only the second time I’d seen her hair down. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her.”

  “I don’t think she’s expecting it,” I said, studying her face. “Did they mishandle you in there?”

  She shook her head. “They were good to me. The warden said Sheriff Buck Turner called and told them to set me up in a private cell and make me comfortable.”

  I made a mental note to remember to add Sheriff Turner to my list of all-time favorite people. If I did Christmas cards, he would be on the top of the list and would receive the gold one.

  Pauline’s lawyer—a tall, thin man in a pinstriped suit—handed Susan a business card. “As I mentioned earlier, the name’s Perry Goldsmith,” he said. “Once you’re settled in at home, call my secretary and set up a time when you can come into the office tomorrow. I need to open a case and I need to get as much information as I can from you so I can start filing some motions. This whole situation reeks and I want to get a handle on it as soon as possible.”

  We both thanked him and Susan and I stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. “You must be hungry,” I said.

  She nodded and asked if I was buying. “I left my wallet at home when I was hauled away in handcuffs.”

  I drove to M & P Grill and the tantalizing smell of fried shrimp greeted us when we pushed through the front door of the diner. Malory, who was the manager, hurried out the kitchen at the sound of the door slamming, but she stopped momentarily when she saw us. She regained her composure quickly and showed Susan and me to our corner table. Malory was usually very talkative—nosy even—when we came in, but there was an awkward silence as she walked us to the table. She dropped the menus in front of us and returned to the kitchen.

  I glanced around the dining room. An elderly couple was sitting to our right and four construction workers sat at a table directly in front of us. The construction workers didn’t pay us any mind, but the elderly lady was staring at us. She turned her head when I made eye contact with her and whispered something to her husband. He looked up and his gaze fell on Susan. He stared for a few seconds and then turned back to his wife, nodding and saying something I couldn’t make out.

  “They act like I have Ebola,” Susan muttered, noticing the reaction from Malory and the elderly couple.

  I frowned. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

  “It is what it is.” She glanced at the menu, and then tossed it aside. “I’ve only been locked up for one night but it felt like a month.”

  “Are you that hungry?”

  She nodded. “I’m tempted to order two of everything—especially since you’re paying.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” I scanned the menu, tempted to try something new, but when Malory walked up, I settled for the shrimp on bun. When she was gone, I leaned my elbows on the table and stared at Susan, wondering how to kick off the conversation I knew we had to have.

  She was busy on her cell phone. “I can’t believe how much has happened while I’ve been in the joint,” she said, smiling at her own joke. Suddenly, her smile faded as she read something on the screen. When she was done reading, she looked up and her eyes were inquisitive. “Did you know about this?” She turned her phone and I saw the headline: Suspected murder suspects released due to lack of evidence.

  I nodded and told her Jennifer had texted me with the news.

  “How could the DA let them go?” Susan asked.

  “They were wearing masks at the time of the murders, and I admitted I couldn’t positively identify them.” I frowned. “There was no DNA evidence, no fingerprints…nothing at all to put them at the scene. I don’t like it, but I understand their decision.”

  “But you killed Thomas Parker at the scene and—according to everything I’ve read—he always runs with his brothers. You said the ringleader was missing his front left tooth, and Simon Parker is missing his front left tooth.” Susan shook her head. “How’s that not enough?”

  I just shook my head. My only hope was that they would eventually slip up and say the wrong thing to the wrong person or get caught with the murder weapon so the prosecutor could have what he needed. Of course, they could come here like they promised and I could find a reason to put them away…

  When I didn’t say anything, Susan said, “Clint, I’m really sorry. I know this has to be devastating. I couldn’t imagine—”

  “Let’s concentrate on the task at hand,” I said. “I have the rest of my life to worry about the Parker brothers, but we only have a short time to figure out why Bill is gunning for you.” I hesitantly went over the conversation I’d had with her mom, recounting every bit of it as accurately and completely as I remembered. Susan sat playing with the straw wrapper while I talked, and never took her eyes off of it. When I’d finished, she placed the wrapper down and looked up at me.

  In a low voice, she explained how she’d blamed herself for her dad’s death. “If I’d only known CPR I could’ve probably kept him alive long enough to get him to the hospital.”

  Malory walked up before I could respond and placed our food on the table in front of us. We thanked her, but she stood looking down at the table, wringing her hands in front of her apron.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I…we…all of us here know you’re innocent, Susan,” she said. “I don’t really know what to say about it, but I just wanted you to know we’re all behind you.”

  I thought I saw Susan’s eyes tear up a little, but I couldn’t be sure. She nodded and thanked Malory, who scurried off and disappeared through the ki
tchen door.

  Without saying another word, Susan dove into her food, moaning her approval as she chewed. I hadn’t taken my first bite when I received a call from Amy.

  “Did you find Damian?” I asked.

  Susan’s mouth stopped chewing and she stared, her cheeks puffed out and her eyebrows furrowed. She clearly recognized the name of her father’s best friend. I nodded to let her know we had more to talk about.

  “I didn’t find him,” Amy said, “but I know where he can be found.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Amy explained that the old boxing coach didn’t know anything about Isaiah’s dealings with the DA, but he was certain Conner could tell us anything we needed to know. “The only problem is he lives in the Smoky Mountains,” Amy said. “The old man didn’t know where, but he said Damian moved away shortly after Isaiah died.” Amy had run a name inquiry and found an address for Isaiah’s friend in Ridgeview, Tennessee. “I have a phone number if you want it.”

  Amy gave me the number and we hung up. Susan had swallowed her food and—not even waiting for me to put the phone down—asked, “You think Uncle D knows why Bill hates my dad?”

  “I’m hoping he does,” I said. “If he doesn’t, I don’t know who else would.”

  Susan sat chewing on her lower lip. Her brown eyes were troubled. When I asked what was wrong, she said, “I have this image of my dad in my mind. The kind of man I believe he was.” She lowered her head and stared at her hands as she spoke. “I imagine him to be a lot like you. Well, you’re a lot like the man I imagined him to be. I was really young when he died and I didn’t really know a lot about him, so I’ve had to fill in the holes of his pedigree with character traits I imagined him to possess. Basically, I’ve had to create an image of who I believed him to be.” She looked up and frowned. “I don’t want to be wrong.”

  “I’m sure you’re not.”

  “If a man hates you so much that he’ll go after your offspring, you must’ve done something terrible. If my dad did something so awful that it would change how I feel about him…” Susan’s voice trailed off and she just shook her head.