Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  “What about cell phone videos and images?”

  Melvin pulled a small notepad from the shirt pocket of his rumpled shirt. There was a brownish stain down the front side of his uniform, and I figured it was gravy from something he ate. I didn’t even bother pointing it out because I knew my uniform wasn’t in the best shape either.

  After flipping through the pages, Melvin turned the pad so I could see a long list of names. “These people either took videos or photos at the fair and they’re willing to let us go through them. None of them wanted to relinquish their phones, but they said they’d make sure and not delete anything until we’ve had a chance to go through them. I went through some of them, but”—he shook his head—“it was impossible to search all of them. There’re just too many of them. I handed out compact discs and asked if they could download the data, and most of them agreed to do so.”

  I sighed. “Can you send a copy of the list to my phone? Once we make the death notification I’ll start tracking all of them down. It may be a waste of time, or it may lead to the killer.” I slapped his back. “As usual, good work. One day, you’ll be running this place.”

  Melvin beamed a little, but then he eyed me suspiciously. “Are you trying to say that Chief Wilson is quitting?”

  “No, but if we have a child, she’ll need someone to step in and keep the place afloat while she’s away.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ve got my own investigative team to run,” I joked, and we both laughed. I was the chief investigator of only me. While my title didn’t make sense, I couldn’t work for my future wife, so Mayor Cain had hired me to work directly for her, as a separate and co-equal branch of the town government. I’d resisted the offer at first, but my love for police work had been—and remained—too strong.

  I decided to call it a night and told Melvin I’d see him in the morning.

  “I’m not far behind you,” he said.

  CHAPTER 7

  I drove to the police department and found Susan in her office. She looked up from her computer screen. “This guy’s a ghost, as is his family.”

  “Has he ever been arrested?” I dropped to the chair across from her and settled into it.

  “Only once that I could find. It was about ten years ago…for disturbing the peace by fighting.” She slid a report across the desk. “It’s the only information I could find on him.”

  I scanned the report. It seemed Chester and two men had come into town for some food. They were at Mechant Groceries when they ran into someone who knew Chester. The man, an elderly fellow named Alf Aguillard, demanded to know where Chester was hiding his daughter. They exchanged words and then they exchanged blows.

  “Chester messed the old man up pretty bad,” Susan said. “Put him in the hospital. I found a transcript of Alf’s statement and it offers more details.”

  “What’d old Alfie have to say?”

  “He said his daughter, Hilda, had married Chester and they’d moved into the swamps together. He wasn’t thrilled about the ordeal, but he said Hilda would come to visit every few months, so he started to warm to the idea. Chester and Hilda eventually had three kids—two boys and a girl—and he got to see his grandkids during Christmases and sometimes on Thanksgiving. As the kids grew older, Alf began asking about their schooling. He offered to let them live with him so they could attend school in Mechant Loup, but that started a fight with Hilda. He said the kids came around a few more times after that, but then they stopped visiting altogether. He would hear from time to time that they were seen in town buying groceries or gasoline for their boats, but he would rarely see them.”

  “Did Hilda stop visiting?”

  Susan shook her head. “She was the only one who would visit after that, and she kept visiting for years. Alf said Hilda would talk about the kids and brag about how they were excellent hunters and could catch fish with their bare hands and how they could live off the land. But then, all of a sudden, she stopped coming around. He asked around, but no one had seen her in a long time. He had been trying to catch Chester in town, but he would always just miss him—until that day. A buddy called to say he saw Chester at the store, so Alf hauled ass over there. He immediately approached Chester to ask about Hilda.

  “Chester became evasive and told Alf to leave them alone. When Alf asked if the two men with him were his grandchildren, Chester told him he didn’t have any grandchildren. The two of them continued arguing and then they started fighting. Alf said someone called the police department and they were both arrested.”

  I knew from the police report that Chester had refused to give a statement. The two men who came to town with Chester were nowhere to be found when the chief of police, a guy named Beaver Detiveaux, arrived to break up the fight. Beaver…now that’s a name I hadn’t heard in a while.

  “Did you see what Chester listed as his address?” Susan asked.

  I glanced at the top of the report. He’d provided an address of 101 Raymond Hideaway in God’s Country, Louisiana, and he’d listed his date of birth as unknown. I grunted, amused. “Is that all we have on him?”

  Susan nodded.

  “What about Hilda?” I asked.

  “Nothing. According to Alf, she married Chester when she was sixteen and he was eighteen. She’s apparently been off the grid ever since.”

  “Do we have any other info on Alf?”

  “He filed a missing report for Hilda about a month later. Other than that and the arrest, he’s had no other contact with law enforcement. I did run a driver’s license check and he’s got a current DL. He still lives here in Mechant Loup.”

  “We should pay him a visit and see what he’s got to offer. Maybe he’s heard from Hilda since he filed the report.”

  “I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”

  I nodded, thoughtful. We needed to find out who Chester’s kids were, but how? I snapped my fingers when it came to me. “Can you get someone to check the Department of Vital Records in Northern Chateau on Monday to see if they have birth certificates for the Raymond children? If they do, it would give us Chester’s date of birth.”

  “Sure.” Susan frowned ever so slightly. “Are you still planning on going out there—across Forbidden Bayou?”

  “I’ve got to find his wife and kids to let them know what happened to him.”

  “Just as long as you’re—”

  “Back by the sixteenth.” I stood and leaned over her desk, kissed her on the forehead. “Got it.”

  “Oh, and Clint,” Susan began as I started to walk out of her office. “Chester never made the court appearance for his fight charge. We’ve got a contempt of court warrant for him.”

  I scowled. “Joel Baker—the ramrod from the carnival company—said he runs background checks on all of his employees. If that’s true, he would’ve known about the warrant on Chester.”

  “So, he either ignored it or he lied.”

  “Yeah…” I allowed my voice to trail off. If Joel was lying about the background checks, what else was he lying about? Could it be he was hiding something? If so, then what? Did he know about Chester’s groping problem—?

  “What are you thinking?” Susan’s voice cut through my thoughts and brought me back into the room. I shared my thoughts with her. She agreed that it was worth exploring further. “But not tonight,” she said. “We need to get you home so you can get some rest. I don’t want you half asleep out there on the water. There’s no telling what you’ll find on the other side of Forbidden Bayou.”

  It was already late, so, after running a name inquiry on Joel Baker and finding no wants or warrants, I followed her to the parking lot and then to our home on Paradise Place. Achilles appeared out of the darkness to greet us. He licked my hand vigorously, as though he were trying to convince me how much he missed me.

  “I think he loves you more than he loves me.” Susan pouted. “He never licks my hand like that.”

  I smiled, reflecting on how good it felt to be loved—b
oth by Susan and by Achilles. I couldn’t remember ever being loved this much…

  As quickly as my smile appeared, it faded away as I remembered Michele and Abigail. Although they’d been gone for nearly five years, my first wife and daughter were never usually far from my thoughts, but I’d actually been thinking about them a whole lot more lately. I figured it had to do with my upcoming marriage to Susan. I’d been wondering how Michele might take the news, and I wondered if I should go to her gravesite and ask permission. The last time I had visited, I’d felt as though she’d given me permission to move on with Susan, but I’d never consulted her about the wedding. Should I? Or should I just move forward on my own?

  I’d broached the subject with Susan a few months ago and she’d been very supportive. She told me to do whatever made me feel comfortable. As I watched her wrestle a ball away from Achilles and then throw it down the street, I wondered how I’d feel if Susan were still attached to a dead boyfriend or husband. As I considered the meaning of my feelings for Michele, I suddenly realized it couldn’t be love. I was a one-woman man; it’s how I was built. There was only room in my heart for one woman at a time. Had I still loved Michele, I never would’ve been able to date Chloe, and then, later, Susan.

  I suddenly felt a tremendous amount of relief at this self-revelation, and a calming peace fell over me. I might never let go of the guilt I felt over Michele’s murder, but I was totally, helplessly, and only in love with Susan Wilson—and that was okay. As for Abigail, I would love her until I took my last breath, and it didn’t matter if I died tomorrow or a hundred years from now.

  Tomorrow…what will tomorrow bring?

  CHAPTER 8

  Sunday, April 9

  I didn’t want to make Susan worry more than she was already, so I waited until she went into the bathroom to slide my AR-15 in my drag bag. I then quickly stepped outside and loaded it in my Tahoe. It was still dark outside and was cooler than usual for April. I returned to my room and grabbed a light jacket and the rest of my stuff.

  Achilles followed me outside the second time and he began whining when he saw me loading my life vest. He knew it meant I was going for a boat ride, and he wanted to come along. While I loved having him on the water with me, I didn’t know what we would face out in the swamps to the east of town. No one ever ventured out in that direction and I began to wonder if it was because of the stories the townspeople used to tell their children. What if there was some truth to it all? What if there were a group of cannibals living in the thick shadows of the Forbidden Swamps? What if Chester Raymond was a part of the group?

  It troubled me that I didn’t know anything about the Raymond Clan. With no background information, I didn’t know what to expect. I had no clue how they would react to our presence—they might view it as government intrusion or an alien invasion—and I certainly didn’t know how they would respond to the news of Chester’s passing. They might be so overcome with grief that they’ll blame the messengers, and Melvin and I could find ourselves in a real fight, with no backup within range. No, I couldn’t bring Achilles into such an unknown environment. “Sorry, Big Man,” I said, rubbing his ears as I spoke, “but you have to stay behind on this one. It’s not safe enough—”

  “So, you admit it’s dangerous,” Susan said from the doorway to our house. She wore her night shorts, which were very short, and a thin shirt that revealed way too much of her cleavage. The patio light above accentuated the curves of her breasts and caused mysterious and sexy shadows to appear on her face, making it look as though she were summoning me for wild and passionate sex.

  “How is that fair?” I waved my hand up and down in her direction. “We’re supposed to abstain from sex until the sixteenth and you walk around like that?”

  She shoved both hands on her hips. “Excuse me, Mr. Clint Wolf? Are you going to stand there and pretend you weren’t walking around naked this morning while brushing your teeth? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  I laughed. “I was doing it on purpose, but you didn’t take the bait.”

  She tried to stifle a chuckle but failed miserably. She strode to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, stared up into my eyes. “It’s extremely difficult for me, too, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”

  “I know.” I leaned down and kissed her for a long moment. Her lips were so soft and her tongue so moist. I felt the excitement growing and I had to pull myself back. “I need to go before we break your covenant.”

  “Our covenant.”

  “Yeah, yeah…I’ll see you this afternoon or this evening, depending on if and when we find the Raymonds.”

  “I’ll keep trying to locate Hulk and Blondie,” Susan said. “Do you want me to attend Chester’s autopsy if you’re not back in time?”

  I nodded and gave her one last kiss before jumping into my vehicle and driving away. I frowned as I watched Achilles in my rearview mirror. His ears were drooping and he seemed to be frowning. I wondered how mad he would be when he realized we were going on a seven-day cruise without him. I couldn’t remember ever spending that much time away from him, and I didn’t know who would take it harder—me or him.

  When I reached the beginning of Paradise Place, which was the street on which Susan and I lived, I turned left onto Main Street and headed toward the boat launch that was located along Bayou Tail Lane. Melvin had said he was pretty sure there was a small canal that connected Bayou Tail with Forbidden Bayou, and he figured the quickest way to access it was by launching there. He also said it would be a tight squeeze, so he wanted to take one of the department’s smaller boats. I wasn’t raised on the water like Melvin was, so I always deferred to his boating wisdom. However, I would’ve felt better in a larger boat.

  The sun was just coming up over the distant horizon as I parked my vehicle near one of the wooden piers. Other than my vehicle, there were five others scattered around the shell parking lots along the length of the Bayou Tail Boat Launch, and all of them had empty boat trailers attached to their hitches except for one truck. It was customary for people to launch their boats on Friday, head out to their camps for the weekend, and then return on Sunday or Monday. Of one thing I was certain—none of them had headed east toward Forbidden Bayou, and it probably wasn’t a good idea for Melvin and me to be heading that way either, but law enforcement was a dangerous job and someone had to do it.

  Melvin pulled into the parking lot a minute later and sped to the slip at the western end of the boat launch, kicking up dust as he did so. I grabbed my gear and dismounted. He was already backing the boat into the water when I reached him. After I grounded my gear and released the lock on the winch, I cranked it in reverse and the boat slowly slid down the skids. Before giving a final push, I disconnected the winch cable from the front cleat and grabbed the bow line, wrapping it around my wrist to hold it firm.

  Once the boat was in the water and Melvin had parked his truck, we jumped onboard and headed east along Bayou Tail. I smiled as the cool breeze brushed my hair back and droplets of water peppered my face. There was a certain freedom I felt every time I was on the water. It was as though nothing else in the world mattered. All of my worries and the stresses of everyday life just melted away-well, until Melvin followed the bend in Bayou Tail to the south and then abruptly navigated the aluminum hull flatboat toward a tiny break in the eastern bank. It looked like an ancient outlaw hideout and, suddenly, I wasn’t so relaxed anymore.

  I was on full alert as the boat coasted toward this tiny canal that flowed off of Bayou Tail. The edges of the canal nearly brushed against the sides of the boat and we had to duck low to make it under East Main Street. The space under the highway was as black as a coal mine. My hand drifted to my pistol and I stood poised for anything as the darkness enveloped us. The air was moist and cool. The smell of creosote was so thick that it burned my nose hairs.

  As quickly as the black hole had swallowed us up, it spat us out the other side. Melvin pointed straight ahead and we continued along the narrow can
al for about thirty minutes. Other than birds chirping and the low hum of the boat motor, the only other sound I heard was water gently slapping up against the sides of the hull. My head was on a swivel. My eyes strained to penetrate the thick trees that lined the banks on both sides of the canal. Gnarly branches reached down from above like witches’ fingers, seemingly wanting to do us harm.

  “Are you sure this’ll take us to Forbidden Bayou?” I asked. It was the first time I’d spoken since we left, and my voice cracked from lack of use.

  Melvin seemed to jump a little at the unexpected sound, but he recovered quickly. “Positive. If my calculations are correct, we should reach the intersection within ten minutes—give or take a few seconds.”

  He was correct. The narrow canal opened into a wide bayou that ran from north to south, paralleling the lower half of Bayou Tail about five miles to the east. Melvin turned south and increased our speed. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were, but within twenty minutes I could hear the distant drone of a band playing, and I knew the fairgrounds were to the west. “Hear that?” I asked.

  Melvin nodded and pointed up ahead, where a boat was pushed up against the western bank. It was tied to a tree. “There…that must be Chester’s boat.”

  I scanned both banks, but everything seemed quiet. Melvin pulled up against the boat and we checked it for numbers. Nothing.

  “I guess you don’t have to register your boat when you live where the law won’t go,” Melvin muttered.

  I searched the interior hull of Chester’s boat, but it was empty. There was nothing inside to help us identify his family and nothing to indicate where he lived. I turned away from the boat and stared up and down Forbidden Bayou. “Which way do we go?”

  Melvin was thoughtful. He shot a thumb over his shoulder toward the north. “The world is back that way, so my guess is we head south. Chester and his kind like to avoid civilization, so I say we go deeper into the jungle.”