Catahoula: Shallow End Gals (A Shallow End Gals Book 4)

by Vicki Graybosch

  At the grocery, she backed into a parking spot up near the building. Her license plate was not visible. She practically ran through the store throwing items in the cart. Her heart was pounding and she cursed herself for taking the risk. At the checkout she watched a patrol car slowly drive through the lot. It took off, lights flashing moments later. Marla breathed again.

  Once back in the garage she felt safe. Reuben would be angry she had taken the risk. Why couldn’t she do what she was told, what she had promised? Marla spoke out loud as she hefted the grocery bag into her arms, “What’s wrong with me?”

  “I was just going to ask that.” A man in the shadows stepped forward. It was Reuben.

  Claude and Earl stood looking at the disaster they had left in the kitchen. Claude turned to Earl, “I best help with this clean up.” They spent half an hour mopping. Earl took out the garbage can of chicken heads to throw in the woods. He walked straight to where Spicey, Sasha and Dakin were hiding behind a clump of briar shrubs. Spicey watched Earl inch closer and squinted her eyes. She heard a loud grunt just before chicken heads, eyes wide open, flew toward them and landed only feet away.

  Spicey peeked sideways and saw Sasha roll her eyes back. Spicey hung on to Sasha’s arm in a death grip to keep her from falling and making any noise. Spicey was afraid to breathe. Dakin was gripping a turkey foot that hung around her neck on a leather strap.

  Claude had walked out of the house and yelled at Earl, “This be good enough. We best find out somethin’ about that witch. She best be dead by dark. Don’t need no more trouble with Mason.”

  Earl scowled as he dropped the garbage can by the side of the driveway and walked toward the truck. “How we gonna find her?”

  Claude’s voice changed to his scary tone, “I bet all them witchy types know each other. We’ll just ask at all them Voodoo shops. Somebody knows the lady with a spider on her face.” Claude spit in the dirt drive before he hefted himself into the driver’s seat. “Throw that big hammer in the back there with Betty Sue. This time we be doin’ it right.”

  As soon as the truck pulled down the driveway, Spicey, Sasha and Dakin climbed out of the brush. They stood picking moss and sticks from each other’s clothes and hair. They were wailing about what was going to happen to them.

  Spicey cleared her throat and tried to appear strong for the others. “There be a lot of Voodoo shops in New Orleans. We got us some time to make a plan.”

  Sasha looked at Dakin, “Girl you be getting’ a makeover. We gonna cover up that there spider, cut your hair and chop them nails.”

  Spicey expected a fight, but Dakin agreed.

  Linda and Teresa had already gone into the house to find something of Claude and Earl’s for Mambo. Mary and I declared we would guard the driveway. I’m pretty sure Linda and Teresa figured out we were avoiding the house. Less than a minute later, Teresa and Linda were back with a cap that said Claude and a mug that said Earl.

  Spicey, Sasha and Dakin screamed and ducked as the cap and mug flew toward them. Teresa held them in front of Spicey. Spicey grabbed them both and smiled, “See? We have angels helping us, too.”

  Dakin was awestruck, “Spicey is the Queen!”

  Spicey laughed, “I ain’t nothin’. Wait ‘til you meet Mambo. Right now, we best get that cab back out here.”

  Roger and Paul had listened to Cat with increasing concern. Steven Marks felt strongly a miscarriage of justice had occurred in the Molly Jarvis murder. The timing of his assassination attempt seemed more than coincidence. If William had been the true target and the murderer had gotten away with it for eight years, Cat was at risk, too.

  “Who knew Steven was coming over here?” Roger was worried.

  Cat answered, “I have no idea. Steven has been working fraud since he was relieved of the Jarvis case. I think he’s kept his suspicions to himself. Actually, I’m sure of it.”

  Roger wondered out loud, “If someone monitors when case files are accessed, Marks may have triggered something before he left the office.”

  Cat exclaimed, “I copied all of the case files yesterday to a flash drive. I might have alerted someone.”

  “That would alert someone to you and him. Why did you call him of all the people that worked that case?”

  Cat thought a moment before answering. “He has a reputation as a detail man. A solid evidence type. I reviewed his file notes first for that reason. I couldn’t believe he bought the motive on Meyer. I thought he probably had more information than I had found in his file. I just wanted to pick his brain. I didn’t know he’d been removed from the case until he told me.”

  Cat tapped the table with his pen. “He brought a flash drive with him of the original death certificate of William Jarvis. I have it. It differs significantly from the death certificate that was filed. I don’t know what computer he kept this on. Wait. It had to be from work. He didn’t have time to go home. He must have it buried in his records somewhere.”

  Roger looked at Cat. “An altered death certificate would support his suspicions. How long was he here?”

  “No more than forty five minutes.”

  Roger looked at Paul, “Cat may have a problem in his building that is greater than just the Jarvis case. Let’s step back from this a little. We are monitoring two men that we believe are hit men. There is evidence they are involved in the kidnapping and murder of Senator Dalton. We also have a connection to DOJ. Someone at DOJ kept one of them from prosecution last year.”

  “Dalton? He’s dead?” Cat’s voice had raised and his expression was one of grave concern. “He is a surprise witness in a case against a lobbyist our Washington office is prosecuting.”

  Roger asked, “When was he scheduled to testify?”

  “Next month.”

  “That won’t happen. He’s in the bottom of the Assumption Parish sinkhole.”

  “He’s where?” Cat stood and walked to his kitchen, “You’re giving me a headache.” Cat reached in a cupboard and tossed two aspirin into his mouth. “I thought Dalton was on a hunting trip?”

  Paul offered, “That’s the story until we get more information. We’re trying to hold off the press.”

  Roger continued, “We have connected a Justice Investigator named Ward Bromley to one of Dalton’s hit men. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  Cat shook his head and then said, “I don’t think I have ever dealt with him.”

  Roger stated, “He’s out of your office.”

  Cat cleared his throat , “Great.”

  Cat threw his head back and swallowed his aspirin. He looked at his watch and marveled he had only been looking into the Jarvis case for twenty four hours.

  Paul was taking notes and now spoke to Roger, “We could have forensics go over the alley video for more tips and the items Ed Meyer has from the dumpster. We are already running what we can on Ward Bromley for our case. We’ll just share with Cat.”

  Roger said, “Add this patrolman, Mason Dooley.”

  Cat interrupted, “I already asked Thor to check out Dooley for me.”

  Roger nodded, “Good. Maybe we have something by now.”

  Cat’s cell phone rang, his caller ID said Florey. Cat looked at Roger, “This is Ed Meyer’s son, Reuben. I should take it.” Cat listened a while and said, “Hang on a minute.”

  Cat looked at Roger, “I’m not sure how this came down but Reuben’s girlfriend stole a shirt from Mason Dooley’s car about two hours ago hoping to get his DNA. Seems the shirt is covered in blood. Dooley found out and is looking for her.”

  Roger asked, “May I?” Cat handed him the phone. “Mr. Florey? This is SSA Roger Dance of the FBI. Do you know where our field office is located?” Roger had paused for an answer. “Okay, where are you now? I am going to send agents there to get you. Reuben, we are working with Cat on your father’s case now. Bring the shirt and the bag of items from the dumpster with you.”

  Roger handed Cat his phone and then retrieved his own from his jacket. “Thor? I need a
secure transport of two people to our field office. They may have important evidence in a new twist in our case. Can you send Pablo and Nelson?”

  Roger looked at Cat. “I’ll get you anything I can to help you make your case. You’re the lawyer here. Tell me what you want now.”

  Cat answered, “I wish I knew what I had. Marks may have been off base. Molly may have been the target. In that case I already have my proof that Ed Meyer probably didn’t do it. Case done. If Marks is right, and William was the target I need a couple of big things. I need a court to get what I want now.

  “My office will resist getting me what I need. The timing is all wrong. My boss is getting ready to run for Governor. The last thing he’ll want is to let me reopen this case and admit we made mistakes eight years ago. Especially since all I have are hunches. I also want to exhume Williams’s body.”

  Roger smiled, “We could bypass your office and make this an FBI case.”

  Cat smiled.

  Wednesday 3:00 pm

  Ward Bromley sat at his office desk. That was the first time in his career he had fainted in a meeting. He had a slight headache, but otherwise felt okay. He blamed the increased stress on Dooley’s mistakes. Jesus. He couldn’t believe the damn FBI had called paramedics. It took forever to get them to leave him alone. He glanced at his notebook. Shit, he had forgotten to check out this Reuben Florey. Bromley’s cell phone rang, it was his contact.

  “Bromley.”

  The voice on the other end asked what he had found out on Florey. Damn.

  Bromley slammed a file cabinet drawer shut. “Nothing, so far. I’ll keep digging.”

  He hung up and typed Reuben’s name into his databases. There was a weeks’ worth of work laying in the morgue, and they want him looking into someone new? An entry from 1982 jumped out at him. Reuben Meyer’s legal name had been changed to Reuben Florey by his mother. Father’s name was listed as Edward Meyer. Ed Meyer. Why did that name sound familiar? Holy crap! Now he understood the hit order on Steven Marks. Someone was snooping in the Jarvis files.

  Bromley quickly searched his other databases and verified Reuben was indeed a journalist for the Times-Picayune in New Orleans. Bromley copied down Reuben’s address and closed his notebook. He was reaching for his cell when his contact called again.

  “Steven Marks is in surgery.”

  “That can’t be.”

  The phone went dead.

  Bromley’s head was exploding with a migraine. How hard is it? Can’t anything just be done right?

  Bromley pushed his chair back with such force that it toppled. He set it back in place noisily and slammed his office door as he left. Bromley’s secretary was on the phone with a co-worker, “Somebody’s in big trouble. You should have seen Ward’s face just now.”

  Thor called Pablo and Nelson to his office. “Roger wants this reporter and his girlfriend escorted here. Evidently they have some evidence this cop Dooley is after.”

  Todd looked at the address. Nelson handed Thor a file.

  “I just printed this stuff off for you on Mason Dooley. I can’t believe he’s still a cop.”

  Thor opened the file and glanced at its contents. “This guy is on Cat’s radar. Roger and Paul are with Cat. My money says Dooley will end up on our plate.” Thor waved the file before he dropped it to his desk. “Be careful.”

  Thor watched them leave and checked his watch. Steven Marks had been in surgery over two hours now. When a fellow cop goes down, there is a special kind of anger that sets in. It used to make a difference even to the criminals. No more.

  Agent Phillip Weaver stuck his head in Thor’s office, “Doug and I are heading over to Spicey’s place now.”

  Thor nodded.

  Two minutes later there was another knock on Thor’s door. Frank Mass stood smiling, holding a cup of coffee. “I don’t know how you got my ass back here, but here I am. Get away from my desk!”

  Thor moved away and gestured for Frank to take a seat.

  “I hope that coffee is strong. I’ve got a couple of things to review with you on the ‘hot’ plate.”

  Mass frowned, “Already? Dance has only been here one day.”

  Thor chuckled, “I drugged a DOJ Investigator with shit out of an evidence locker about two hours ago in our conference room.”

  Mass’s eyebrows went up. “You did what?”

  Thor’s toothpick wiggled in the corner of his mouth, “That’s the good news.”

  Roger expressed his concern for Cat’s safety.

  Cat returned Roger’s serious expression, “Don’t go there.”

  Cat rubbed his left shoulder and sighed, “New topic. There is someone whose safety I’m worried about. The little girl that found me in the alley. I understand she is worried police will make her a ward of the state. She is living on the streets now. She is ten years old and her grandmother passed a couple of days ago. Even if I find her, she won’t trust me. What can I do?”

  Roger did not expect Cat to be thinking about something like this now with everything else that was going on. Then he remembered, Cat would know how an orphan feels. It pointed out how important it was to Cat for him to mention it now.

  Roger answered, “If we can get some basic information on her, we can look for other family members.”

  Cat nodded. “I know of one man that may be able to get that for us. I’ll follow up.”

  Roger asked, “I’m changing tracks now. The FBI can exhume William Jarvis’s body and do the forensics, get you investigative reports on Dooley, Bromley, and our two hit men, and anyone else you want on the QT. If Steven Marks is correct, someone murdered both Molly and William and is embedded deep enough in your office to have hidden for eight years. How do we flush them out?”

  Cat shook his head, “I need to meet with Ed Meyer soon. He may be able to shed some more light on his arrest. I need to prepare him for the eventual announcement that I am dropping charges against him.”

  Roger glanced quickly at Paul then back to Cat, “This is just a thought, what if you announced that first? You could state you have proof he didn’t do it and you intend on reopening the case? That should make someone nervous enough to make a mistake, or at least start some conversations we can capture.”

  “I told you, my boss will have a fit.” Cat looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled, “Unless I got a directive from the FBI requiring I do so.” Cat smiled, “Puts the heat on you and keeps important data out of my files.”

  Paul laughed out loud, “That’s nothing new.”

  Roger smiled, “We know some of these players and already have them wired. If we get lucky, they’ll take us back to the rat’s nest. If this is an FBI case, you can plead ignorance when it suits you. Let me clear all of this with my Director and get back to you.” Roger folded his hands and focused on Cat. “In the meantime, how do we keep you safe?”

  Cat thought of Steven being at his table just three hours ago and now in surgery fighting for his life. “I have to act normal if the problem is in my office. I can’t have FBI following me around. I can take care of myself.”

  Paul pushed his chin out in his nervous tick, “Where did you sleep last night?”

  Cat laughed, “Point taken.”

  Wednesday 4:00 pm

  The cab pulled up in front of the Voodoo shop and Spicey, Sasha and Dakin all ran for the shop doors. Once inside, they locked up behind them and headed for Spicey’s kitchen. Mary, Teresa, Linda and I just followed.

  Spicey pointed Dakin to a chair at her dinette as she quickly moved her bowl of fruit from the table to her counter. “Sasha, you get some clippers and start on those nails. I’m goin’ to give our Hoodoo Princess here a haircut.”

  Sasha ran out of the room on her mission and ran back in one minute later. Her chest was heaving and her face flushed. “We got Men in Black at both our doors!”

  Spicey held a lock of Dakin’s long hair in her fingers, scissors frozen in the air. “Say what?”

  Mary flew past Sasha and ca
me back. “We have backup. We should call Ellen and tell her we can go somewhere else now.”

  Teresa laughed. “This could get funny. Let’s stay and watch.”

  Sasha stomped her foot. “Men in Black! You know, big spooky government types. The kind that don’t smile? Got one at each door out there!”

  Spicey laid the scissors down and smoothed the sides of her dress. She exhaled heavily and shook her head, “Probably the damn IRS. I still be protestin’ that thirty four dollars. They spent twice that in postage yellin’ at me.”

  Sasha and Dakin followed Spicey to the door. Spicey yelled through the glass and startled the man standing there. “What you want?”

  Agent Weaver held his FBI badge up to the glass. Spicey said, “Dang,” and unlocked the door. Agent Troy walked around and came into the store front, too. Spicey locked the door behind them. Weaver was prepared for Spicey to resist their presence. Before she could speak he offered, “I am FBI Special Agent Phillip Weaver and this is Special Agent Douglas Troy. We have been assigned to provide you security.”

  Spicey looked them both up and down. “What took ya so long? We’re in the back here. Ain’t got time to socialize. Killers be on their way.”

  Spicey, Sasha and Dakin practically ran back to the kitchen with Weaver and Troy following. Weaver tilted his head as he glanced at Troy’s puzzled expression.

  Spicey pointed to the extra chairs, “Get comfortable. We be doing a makeover.” Sasha left the room and came back with nail clippers. Spicey started combing and clipping Dakin’s hair again. Weaver and Troy stared at Dakin’s nails and the spider web tattoo that led to the spider on her cheek.