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

by Vicki Graybosch

  Roger answered, “Good, I’m ready.”

  An earpiece appeared in Roger’s ear and he walked into the holding room where Mason Dooley waited. Roger had Dooley’s file and a notebook. Roger took a seat across from Dooley.

  “Mr. Dooley, I’m having a bad day. I’m sorry it took so long to get to you. I’ll contact your supervisors and explain if necessary.”

  That was the last thing Dooley wanted. “Why am I being detained?”

  Roger laid his pen down, “You were on the private property of someone this office is protecting. When agents asked for an explanation, you lied.” Roger opened the file that had been compiled on Dooley. “Your file indicates you’ve operated for some time without regard to consequences. Before you speak, understand that privilege has ended.”

  Kim’s voice came through the earpiece, “Geesh. I don’t believe this. He wants his mom. He also doesn’t know what to say. He was looking for Marla.”

  Roger tapped his pen on the file. “Why were you at Mr. Florey’s house?”

  Dooley twisted in his chair. “I was looking for Marla. It’s personal.”

  Kim’s voice came over Roger’s earpiece, “Oh, my God, Roger. Marla has his bloody shirt that will prove he shot Steven Marks.”

  Roger rubbed his temples. He couldn’t explain knowing what Kim had just said. He had Marks’s assassin sitting in front of him. Roger had nothing to hold him on.

  Roger looked up at Dooley who was leaning back in his chair. Kim’s voice told Roger that Dooley thought he was a pushover.

  Roger smiled and leaned back in his chair to match Dooley’s posture. “Let’s approach this from another angle. Since you are here, and you’re local, maybe you can help me figure something out. You were at the cemetery last evening, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  Roger twirled his pen and asked, “Why do you think those bodies were put there? The M.E. says they’re all pretty fresh.”

  Dooley shrugged, “Hell if I know.”

  Kim’s voice said, “Liar.”

  Roger looked thoughtful and then asked, “Do you think these victims may have something in common?”

  Kim’s voice said, “He’s thinking that the only thing they had in common was they were all snitches. He just does what he’s told. Oh, my God. Roger. He shot all of them. Even a judge. He still has the gun. A Glock.”

  Mason Dooley leaned forward, “You know, if you want me to do your job, you should clear it with my boss. I want to leave.”

  “Who is your boss?”

  Kim answered, “Ward Bromley.”

  Dooley answered, “My Captain. Can I leave now?”

  Roger asked, “Who do you think your boss answers to?”

  Kim answered, “He doesn’t know. Somebody at Justice.”

  Dooley stood, “This is crazy! Ask my boss who he answers to. I don’t even care! I’m leaving.”

  Roger stood, “Mr. Dooley, I suggest you stay away from Marla. If she wants to resume something personal, she can contact you.”

  Roger held the door for Dooley to leave, “The keys to your patrol unit are in the ignition. One last question, do you own a Glock?”

  Mason’s face was expressionless. “No.”

  Kim’s voice said, “Liar.”

  Wednesday 8:00 pm

  Reuben and Marla kicked off their shoes and sat on the couch smiling at each other. Reuben said, “The house smells wonderful. Think that roast is done?”

  Marla giggled, “Not yet. About half an hour to go. I’m going to put in some carrots and potatoes.”

  Reuben made a face, “I don’t like carrots.”

  “How can you not like carrots? Everybody likes carrots. It’s like not liking water.”

  Reuben laughed, “I don’t like water, either.”

  Marla looked at him as if he was crazy. They both burst out laughing. Reuben reached across and grabbed her hand. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Reuben leaned over and kissed her nose. “For everything. You put yourself in danger to help me. And you cooked!”

  Marla was actually giddy. “You haven’t eaten it yet. I’m going to get those vegetables going.” Marla left for the kitchen and Reuben grabbed the remote and turned on the late evening news. The FBI had told them that Dooley would be held as long as possible and warned to stay away from them. Maybe he could actually relax.

  Marla finished adding vegetables and found Reuben snoring on the couch. Her visit to the FBI office had restored her faith in law enforcement. Those guys were totally different than the local cops. Marla relaxed knowing that at least for tonight she was safe.

  Then she remembered Maddie! My God, how could she have forgotten? Maddie was her baby. An adorable little white and mixed color Shih Tzu. Maddie would be hungry and need to go out. She couldn’t leave Maddie alone with Dooley after her. Dooley wouldn’t think twice about hurting an animal. Marla decided to run home and bring Maddie back to Reuben’s. Dooley was probably still at the FBI office anyway.

  She looked at her watch. She didn’t want to wake Reuben. She could be back before the vegetables were done. She grabbed her purse and clutched her keys to keep them from making any noise. She left a quick note for Reuben next to the couch. He would understand. He often teased her about all the pictures of Maddie at her work station. Well, now he could meet her.

  It was already dark. Marla pressed the accelerator and told herself it wouldn’t take more than five minutes to put Maddie in her carrier, grab her dog food and come right back. She didn’t want the first meal she made for Reuben to be burnt.

  Dooley couldn’t believe his luck. He saw the blue Prius pull into a parking spot. He had almost decided to leave and stake out Reuben’s house. Marla ran to the apartment building’s front door and went inside. Dooley waited ten minutes. He grabbed the short piece of rope on the passenger seat and walked to the alley next to the parking lot. There was a fire escape going up to the third floor. Her apartment was 301. Just as he placed his foot on the first stair, he heard the buzzer of the apartment building door. He pressed his body against the brick wall of the short alley and listened as soft footsteps came closer. Her heard Marla’s car chirp and saw her headlights flash. It was her.

  Marla placed Maddie’s carrier on the roof of the car and reached for the door handle. A strong hand covered her mouth and a man’s arm pulled her backwards. Mason Dooley hissed in her ear, “Gotcha.”

  Marla nearly fainted. She was terrified and Dooley’s eyes looked crazed. He kept his hand over her mouth as he slammed her head against the brick wall in the alley. Marla’s vision blurred and it seemed she was spinning.

  Dooley hissed, “Where’s my shirt?”

  Marla made a noise and shook her head as much as she could with Dooley pressing on her.

  Dooley hissed, “Is it in your car?”

  Marla shook her head, the tears rolled down her cheeks and over Dooley’s hand.

  “Is it in your apartment?”

  Marla was sobbing now and her knees began to buckle as she shook her head. Dooley took his hand off from her mouth to pull her back up by her shoulders. Marla whispered, “The FBI has it.”

  Dooley’s mind crashed. He was blinded with fury and grabbed Marla’s neck. He twisted her and threw her to the cobblestones of the alley. He stood looking down at her, furious. He realized she wasn’t moving. He pushed on her head with his boot. Her neck rolled freely to the side and Dooley realized it was broken. She was dead.

  That damn mutt was yapping. Dooley glanced around for any witnesses and sprinted back to his car. He drove a few blocks and pulled over. His mind raced. He had to get that shirt back. Bromley had to help him. Maybe he knew someone that could steal it back from the FBI.

  Dooley dialed Bromley. He had to leave a message. “I need your help. Now.”

  Reuben was dreaming he was enjoying a magnificent feast and Marla was dancing for him in a large ballroom. Reuben’s eyes opened. He looked at the TV and laughed. The house sure smelled go
od. He rolled his neck and saw the note from Marla.

  I’ll be right back. I have to get Maddie! Marla

  She shouldn’t have left his house. Maybe it was okay. Dooley was probably still at the FBI office. There was no way to know for sure. Reuben was annoyed as he called her cell phone. No answer. He went in the kitchen, turned off the oven and removed the pot roast. No carrots. He smiled. He picked a piece of beef from the roast and savored it as he dialed Marla again. Still no answer. Now he was worried. It was just like her to run back to get that dog. Reuben smiled. Her love for that dog was actually one of things that had attracted him to her. Her face lit up every time she talked about her Maddie.

  A loud pounding on his door startled him and he dropped the lid to the pot roast on the floor. Holy crap. He hoped it wasn’t Dooley. Reuben ran in the living room and looked out the side window to his front door stoop. A man in a black suit knocked again.

  Reuben opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Florey? I’m Agent Williams with the FBI. I’m afraid I have bad news, sir.”

  Reuben’s heart sank, he was sure something had happened to his dad. Reuben invited Agent Williams in the house and noticed he was holding a pet carrier. Reuben saw big brown eyes peeking through tufts of white, brown and slightly golden fur. It was a tiny dog, a Shih Tzu. It was Maddie.

  Reuben’s puzzled expression prompted Agent Williams to say, “Agent Dance thought you might be willing to take her.”

  “Take her?” Reuben was suddenly struck with a thought too horrific to verbalize.

  Agent Williams put his hand on Reuben’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Marla was found murdered by her car only minutes ago. Agent Dance is at the scene and asked that I come here right away.”

  Reuben couldn’t speak. He sat in a chair and looked at Maddie. Maddie softly barked two times. She looked so sad. Reuben reached over and opened the carrier. Maddie glanced around the room, jumped in Reuben’s lap and curled herself up tightly. She looked up at Reuben and whimpered.

  Reuben swallowed and then looked up at Agent Williams. “What exactly happened to Marla?”

  Cat had driven around the blocks surrounding Otis’s store. He was acutely aware of the darkness settling in and the small gangs of young men huddled on every corner. His eyes were searching for that little pink bike. The thought of Izzy living on the streets with no one to protect her was haunting him. He rehearsed in his mind different ways he might approach her.

  Cat finally parked in front of the Otis Grocery and looked at the alley across the street where Izzy had found him. What had brought her to the alley? The dumpster. Was she scavenging for food?

  Cat locked his car, walked in the alley and looked behind the dumpster. Nothing. A door opened from the back of the bar building and Toby, the bartender, walked out with a bag of trash.

  “Man, you just don’t learn, do ya?”

  Cat smiled, “I was looking for that little girl from last night.”

  “Ain’t seen her.”

  Cat handed Toby a card. “Call me if you do.”

  Toby read the card. United States Attorney General Prosecutor, Sabastian Delacroix.

  Toby pushed out his lower lip and said, “Dang. You’re that dude they call Catahoula.”

  Cat nodded.

  Toby put the card in his pocket and watched Cat walk across to Otis’s place. Wonder what was going on over there?

  Cat heard the tinkle of bells at the door announce he was in the store. Otis stood at the counter and waited. A man stood next to Otis and put his hand out, “Mr. Delacroix? I’m Edward Meyer.” Otis suggested they could talk privately in his back room. Otis walked to the door, flipped the sign to closed and turned out the light.

  Otis asked Cat, “Do you want me to wait out here?”

  Cat looked at Ed who shrugged. Cat answered, “I probably need you both.”

  Ward Bromley assumed Dooley was calling because he saw his missed call list. Bromley had tried to reach him at least four times in the last hour. Bromley tried to keep his voice calm. He was infuriated at the problems he was facing because of Dooley’s screw ups. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

  Dooley glanced at his phone and realized Bromley had been calling him. Dooley figured he better find out what Ward wanted first. “I was busy. Didn’t notice. What did you want?”

  Bromley laid it all out. “You didn’t take care of our little job this afternoon. Steven Marks lived. We just lost a man trying to clean up your mess.”

  Dooley leaned his head back against his car’s headrest. Marks was alive?

  Bromley’s voice boomed, “Did you hear me, Dooley?”

  Dooley quietly answered, “Yes.”

  Bromley asked, “Did Marks see your face?”

  “Yes. I shot him in the damn head. He’s probably a vegetable. We’ve got one more problem to fix.”

  Bromley screamed, “What the hell now?”

  Dooley told him about Marla stealing his bloody shirt, and taking it to the FBI. Dooley added, “I killed her. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted the shirt back.”

  Bromley was silent. He felt like he was falling in a sinkhole.

  Dooley pleaded, “Come on. You can get somebody to steal it back, can’t you? They can’t do anything without evidence.”

  Bromley realized Dooley quite possibly had just sealed both of their fates.

  Bromley quietly said, “Let’s think a minute. The FBI uses their own lab for forensics here in New Orleans. The shirt is probably already there being worked on. We would probably have to find some way to steal it from there.”

  Dooley sounded hopeful, “I can do it! Just tell me what to do.”

  Bromley shouted, “You know what I want you to do? Quit killing people! Any way you left any evidence where you killed this girl tonight?”

  “No. I’m sure. They’ll suspect me though.”

  “Then you’ll need to get an airtight alibi. Get one! I’ll call you when I figure this out.”

  Bromley ended the call and dialed his contact. There was little point making excuses for Mason Dooley. They all knew what he was, a common street level fixer. Some snags were to be expected. Some would be excused. Some wouldn’t.

  His contact listened and promised to call back soon. Bromley knew if that call didn’t come, he was next.

  Abram had Agent Weaver and Spicey in his boat.

  Jackson had Agent Troy, Sasha and Dakin in his.

  Jackson yelled over to Abram, “Look out for this creepy ass moss hanging up here. Got bugs and shit.”

  It was now pitch black under the moss canopy. The sounds of the marsh and swamp were deafening. In this part of the swamp, the only boats that could get through were the shallow, flat bottom boats that were guided with long poles. Motors couldn’t function with the grasses and rotting debris.

  Abram screamed, “Gator, gator!” and started slapping the water with his long pole.

  Spicey yelled, “Stop. You leave ‘em be, they won’t hurt ya. You piss ‘em off and they attack! Dang, some swamp man. They get too close just thunk ‘em with a hammer.”

  Everyone in both boats raised their hammers and started watching the black water for red eyes.

  Spicey yelled to Jackson whose boat was in the lead. “See that bent over cypress tree there? Duck down and go under it, there be a left turn right there.”

  Jackson looked back. “You be crazy. Don’t look like nothin’ there but land.”

  Sasha, Dakin and Agent Troy all ducked down low as Jackson guided their boat under the low hanging branches. Sure enough, a waterway appeared. Jackson could see a blue glow peeking through the trees far ahead of them.

  Jackson turned and asked Spicey, “What’s that blue glow up yonder?”

  Spicey answered, “That be Mambo’s place. See? I told you I knew how to get there.”

  Jackson looked puzzled, “She has electricity out here?”

  Spicey answered, “That FBI lady Jeanne and Jeremiah brought her a generator last year. That’s
for running her fridge and heater though. Them blue lights be natural. The swamp gasses make little blue flames shoot up through the water and poof. Most them flames be at Mambo’s.”

  Jackson was mumbling to himself that there wasn’t nothin’ natural about any of this.

  Spicey added, “You just follow the blue lights from here on.”

  Spicey looked at Agent Weaver. “You know folks come from all over the world to study this swamp. Scientist types, people of learnin’. Got lots of folks think a whole tribe of Rugaru be living out here.”

  Agent Weaver knew he was going to regret asking, but did anyway. “What’s a Rugaru?”

  Spicey answered, “Sort of the Louisiana answer to Big Foot. ‘Cept ours is part man and part wolf.” Spicey looked thoughtful, “Rugaru said to eat humans, lives in this here swamp. Don’t think Big Foot eats humans though. Rugaru climbs trees, too.”

  Weaver and Troy looked up at the overhanging branches. Weaver remembered Nelson telling him to bring lots of ammo. Suddenly they heard several large splashes in the water and saw brown animals the size of big raccoons dropping from the branches above.

  Spicey screamed, “River rats! Shoot ‘em! They attack!”

  The water was filled with luminescent yellow eyes wildly swimming toward them. The splashing continued and Weaver and Troy were shooting in all directions.

  Jackson screamed, “Don’t shoot the boat!”

  Spicey, Sasha and Dakin were flat on the deck. Abram clutched the pole and squatted down as low as he could. He peaked over the edge of the boat. A huge rat nose topped with glowing yellow eyes looked right at him. The rat opened its mouth and hissed, exposing long yellow fangs.

  Agent Troy yelled, “Freeze!” to Abram and shot the rat as its long nailed fingers grabbed the edge of the boat and lifted itself from the water. Jackson was beating the water with his pole, while screaming. There must have been twenty dead rats floating on the water. Yellow eyes watched from the shore as Jackson and Abram quickly pushed away from the narrow inlet to more open waters.

  Jackson yelled to Abram, “’Til we seen them rats, I was thinking it was safer to stay by shore.”