They found Jes Deleon slouched in a straight-backed chair. He was dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans. The sneaker on the foot she could see didn’t appear to have any blood on it. The room was oppressively hot.
Gatlin pulled out the only other chair on the near side of the table and sat down. “Mr. DeLeon, I’m Detective Gatlin and this is Detective Franklyn. I believe you two have met.”
“Yeah, she was following me the other day. And she wasn’t very good at it. You still think I hurt Betty Bergeron?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Gatlin said. “What were you doing last night when the officer arrested you?”
The room was so hot, Kit’s scalp began to sweat. She also saw that above his shirt collar, Gatlin’s neck was getting red
DeLeon shrugged. “I was looking in someone’s window.”
“Were you aware that’s a crime?”
“Didn’t think much about it.”
DeLeon’s forehead was wet with perspiration.
“Is that generally how you behave . . . just do whatever you feel like?”
“Pretty much, except I don’t hurt people.”
“You don’t think invasion of privacy hurts people?”
“How could it?”
Gatlin looked at Kit. “Tell him.”
“People have to feel safe somewhere,” Kit said. “That’s what home means to most of us. When you violate that, especially if the victim is young, they may never be able to form close relationships in life. To destroy a person’s ability to trust another is a horrible thing to take from someone.”
“Boo hoo,” DeLeon said.
Kit felt like slugging him.
“Jesus, aren’t you two, hot,” DeLeon said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He tore off his hoodie and put it in his lap. Kit instantly noticed that he had four deep scratches on his neck, all of them crusted with dried blood.
“Where’d you get the scratches?” Gatlin said.
“I don’t remember.”
“Betty Bergeron scratched her killer. That’s why I asked.”
“I didn’t hurt her.”
“Does that mean you killed her quickly, so she didn’t feel any pain?”
“It means I didn’t do anything to her.”
“I know how women can be. Sometimes they say things that can make you so angry. Is that what happened?”
“No.”
“I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt her. It was more like an accident. I could understand that. And I think a jury could too.”
“Do you ever pay attention when other people talk?”
“Go ahead and talk. I’ll listen.”
“Forget it.”
“Okay, tell you what. You say you’re not responsible for Betty’s death. There’s a way you can prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove it. I know the truth.”
“I hate to say this, but there are lots of innocent men in prison. I’m sure some have even been executed for crimes they didn’t commit. A lot of the innocent ones have been saved by reexamining old evidence with the new DNA techniques. Why not save yourself a lot of trouble by giving us a DNA sample right now.”
Kit held her breath to see if Gatlin would be more effective than she had been asking DeLeon the same question in Audubon Park.
“I want a lawyer.”
Gatlin shoved his chair back and stood up. “Do you have one or you want the court to appoint one.”
“The last thing you said.”
“Someone will be here in a few minutes to take care of it.”
Outside the interview room, Kit and Gatlin headed for his desk.
“Why’d you turn the heat up like that?” Kit asked. “Couldn’t you have just forced him to take off the hoodie?”
“Didn’t want to take any chances with some judge deciding that the misdemeanor he’ll be charged with disallowed any degree of forced disrobing. Now, along with what you’ve learned about him, those scratches should allow us to get a court order for a cheek swab.”
“Was he carrying a cell phone?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t the burner we’re looking for.”
“Where are we on location tracking for the burner?”
“Right where we started, which is nowhere. The phone only made calls to Betty and only received calls from her. And it never moved from one general area. Maybe didn’t move at all.”
“So where’s it located?”
“Can’t really tell. I said ‘general area’ because it apparently doesn’t have a GPS chip. That means any location data was derived from cell tower triangulation when calls were made or received. And it’s now been turned off, probably thrown away.”
“That’s some careful planning.”
“On each end – both Betty and whoever – No point though in dwelling on what can’t be changed.”
He was right. But Kit was still very disappointed. “Okay, back to DeLeon. If we can get a court order for a swab, could we also get a search warrant for where he lives and for his phone tracking data?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
Kit reached in her handbag. She withdrew something and handed it to Gatlin. “Before I forget.”
“What’s this?” Gatlin said looking at it.
“The driver’s license of the guy whose been harassing me for filling in as a detective.”
“How’d you get it?”
“Sort of took it from him at gunpoint.”
Gatlin stopped walking. “This is a story I gotta hear.”
When she finished telling what she’d done, Gatlin said, “And this was in front of witnesses?”
“A few.”
“Anybody call it in?”
“Nobody’s contacted me about it.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it. I’ll also find out why this guy’s been targeting you. But next time . . .”
“I don’t think there’ll be a next time. At least not with him.”
Chapter 29
“Here’s something we need to take,” Kit said, coming out of DeLeon’s bedroom closet with a pair of sneakers.
“Any obvious blood on them?” Gatlin asked from where he was searching the drawers in DeLeon’s dresser.
Needing better light, Kit went to the window. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Crime scene got some excellent samples of the tread pattern on the killer’s shoes from the scene at Betty’s parents. Even if there’s no blood, a tread match would be a major discovery.”
Kit slipped the shoes into a paper evidence bag and put the bag in one of the cardboard evidence boxes they’d brought. After the interview with DeLeon, they’d also taken possession of the shoes he was wearing. Even as Kit and Gatlin searched the apartment, the crime scene team was crawling over DeLeon’s car, looking for traces of Paul and Acadia Bergeron’s blood or any evidence that Betty had been in it.
Finished with the dresser, Gatlin shut the bottom drawer and said, “I’m gonna check the next room.”
If DeLeon was their guy, the clothes he was wearing when he killed the Bergerons would have been covered with blood. Even though it didn’t seem likely he would be so stupid as to keep those clothes, Kit returned to the closet and one by one removed the shirts and pants hanging there, taking each item to the window, where she looked for evidence of incriminating stains. She didn’t find any.
There were two small cardboard boxes on the closet shelf. She pulled down the first one and looked inside.
What the . . .?
It held a dozen or so plastic bags each containing a single object. She took the box to the window and put it on a nearby table. The first bag she removed held a cameo broach, the next one, a charm bracelet. Each of the others contained another small piece of jewelry.
She returned to the closet for the second box. Even in the dim light she could see that the bags in this box each contained a small wad of hair.
She quickly left the room and went down the hall, where she found Gatlin rummaging through
a closet in the next room.
She hurried over to him. “Look at this.”
Gatlin pulled his head out of the closet and turned around. Seeing the box, his expectant expression downshifted to one showing only mild interest. “I was hoping you’d found a baseball bat.” But when he saw the bags of hair in the box, his bushy eyebrows arched upward and he reached for his phone.
“Andy . . . Philip. Did you check on Julien this morning?”
He’d put the call on speakerphone so Kit heard Broussard say, “Called him this mornin’. Wife said he’d just left for work.”
“That’s good. Maybe we’re wrong about him being in danger.”
“Too soon to relax about that.”
“Relaxing isn’t on my schedule just now. Say, you probably didn’t notice when you did the post on Betty Bergeron, but could you check and see if any part of her hair looks like a piece has been chopped out?”
“Don’t have to check. I already know. So any hair you’ve found isn’t hers, unless it’s only a few strands.”
“Well, it’s more than that. What about her parents?”
“C’mon Phillip . . .”
“I know, desperate question. But I could use some cooperation here.”
“Where are you?”
“Still at DeLeon’s place. He’s a nut job of some type. I just can’t be sure yet he’s our nut job.”
“You drop his saliva sample off at Tulane?”
“Right before we came here.”
“Who’d you give it to?”
“The guy you told us about.”
“Directly to him?”
“Handed it to him myself.”
“He say when he’d do it?”
“Not exactly. ‘Soon’ was all he said. Remind me, I’ve got it written down, but what was the blood type of the person whose skin was under Betty’s nails?”
“Type A.”
“Think the guy at Tulane would be upset if I called and checked on it?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t”
“Anything of interest show up during the post of Betty’s parents?”
“She had ovarian cancer that had metastasized to her liver. Probably didn’t have more than six months to live.”
“Poor woman . . . Think she knew about it?”
“Odds are she didn’t.”
Gatlin made a mental note to schedule a complete medical physical ASAP. But even as he thought about it, he knew he’d never follow through. “When I get DeLeon’s blood type, I’ll let you know.”
He ended the call then scanned his contact list for the Doc at Tulane. Finding the number, he punched the green phone icon.
One ring . . . two . . . three . . . “This is Dr. Cummins.”
“Detective Gatlin calling. I don’t mean to bother you but . . .”
“No bother detective, that sample you gave me tested as type A.”
“That’s it then,” Kit said. “We’ve got him.”
Chapter 30
“I agree with Phillip,” Broussard said, after taking a sip of iced tea. “It’s not certain that DeLeon is our guy.”
Kit’s mouth dropped open and she huffed in exasperation. “Okay, I know we didn’t find the murder weapon and so far, neither the shoes he was wearing when he was arrested, nor the ones I found in his closet match the bloody footprints, but he had scratches on his neck, he was in the bar where Betty worked the night she was killed, and his blood type matches the killer’s.”
“About that blood type,” Broussard countered. “It’s present in about 40% of the population. From the objection you made a few days ago when I proposed checkin’ the tissue under Betty’s nails for blood type, I’m sure you knew that.”
“So,” Grandma O said, the rustle of her taffeta dress announcing her arrival before she spoke. “What you chatterboxes havin’ for lunch?”
“Crawfish salad,” Kit said, “with Oustellette dressing.”
Nodding in agreement that she’d made a fine choice, Grandma O looked at Gatlin.
“Debris po’boy and alligator chili.”
“What about you, City Boy?” Grandma O said.
“Think I’ll eat light today; Crab and shrimp gumbo . . .” he held up a stubby finger,“. . . a bowl not a cup, a muffaletta, and a double order of honey cornbread.”
Grandma O looked down her nose at him. “You prepared to eat all dat, I hope.”
Broussard cupped his ponderous belly. “How can you possibly ask me that?”
“Jus’ checkin’.” She cocked her head. “Anything happen las’ night you wanta tell me about?”
“Everything turned out fine.”
“Well, my timin’ might have been off a little.” She turned to go then spun back toward them. “An’ about dat killer who left da bloody footprints, don’ you ignore what Kit’s tellin’ you.”
“Were we talking that loud?” Gatlin said, looking around to see who was nearby.
“Don’t worry about it,” Broussard said. “In here, she knows everything.”
“What did she mean ‘her timing might have been off’?”
“She called me last night warnin’ that I should keep an eye on the people I was worryin’ about.” In response to Gatlin’s puzzled look, Broussard added, “Julien and Leona.”
“How’d she know about them?”
Broussard shrugged.
“What’s the main reason you two are not sold on DeLeon?” Kit said.
Gatlin continued staring at Broussard for another few seconds, trying to make sense of Grandma O’s phone call, then turned to Kit and said, “Motive. I can see how an argument between Betty and DeLeon could result in her death, even though I still don’t know why she would have voluntarily gotten into his car at the dollar store. But let’s say, I give you that. I think we all believe Betty’s killer also murdered her parents . . .” He paused. Sensing he was checking to see if she agreed, Kit nodded. He then looked at Broussard, who did the same. Shifting his attention back to Kit, he said, “Okay, why’d he do that? And Andy thinks Betty’s killer also did Uncle Joe.”
“Excuse me,” Broussard said, “but after Betty’s parents were killed, you wanted on that same horse.”
“Okay . . . okay. The point is, what’s the connection between DeLeon and Joe?”
“Just because we’re not smart enough to have figured out the motive doesn’t mean we’re wrong about him,” Kit said.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Gatlin said. “I’m not convinced he’s the wrong guy. But it’s gonna take weeks for the DNA results to come back. So I don’t want to just sit around and ignore other possibilities. And I’ve got two that are under my skin. One is Howard Karpis, the guy that threatened to kill Uncle Joe after Joe fired him.”
“And he lied to you when he said he was fishing somewhere else the morning Joe was killed,” Kit said.
“That’s not all. When we were talking about Joe being killed, Karpis mentioned Deuteronomy 5:9. I made a note of that after I finished talking to him, but didn’t give it any thought until Betty’s parents were killed.” Gatlin took out his little black detective notebook, turned to a page in the middle, and said, “Either of you know the passage?”
Kit shook her head.
Then Broussard said, “Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me.”
Gatlin’s face fell. During any investigation when the assembled facts had accumulated to a significant tipping point, each of them wanted to state the conclusion before the other. In this case, Gatlin had been sure he had the upper hand.
“How the hell did you know that?” Gatlin said, his rare use of a curse word showing how upset he was.
“My grandmother was a big fan of me learnin’ the more popular biblical passages.”
“Well, you could have at least paraphrased it instead of quoting it word for word. Anyway, there’s the m
otive we been missing.”
“That’s a major case of hatred,” Kit observed.
“He has a history of that kind of thing,” Gatlin said. “Years ago he served ninety days in jail for assaulting the other driver when the two of them had a minor traffic accident. Then had to attend mandatory anger management classes.”
“When you two spoke did he have any scratches on him?” Broussard asked.
“A couple on his arm.”
“He sounds plausible to me,” Broussard said.
“Me too,” Grandma O said, steaming over to the table with a big tray holding their food.
“Hey,” Kit said to Grandma O. “I thought you were on my side.”
“Chil’, the truth don’ have sides.”
While they all ate, conversation flagged as each of them spun mental webs around the various facets of the four murders, hoping to collect them into a unifying explanation. Finally, when the meal was over Broussard said, “What are you two gonna do now?”
“While I was obtaining the search warrant for DeLeon’s place, I also got one for Karpis’s house and truck and for a cheek swab. Just too many questionable issues about Karpis’s behavior for a judge to ignore.”
“Did you ever get his phone records?” Kit asked.
“Yeah, but they didn’t show anything. He didn’t make any calls during the time he was supposedly fishing on Saturday morning or any time around Betty’s death. And there was no tracking data for those periods either. Must keep his phone off most of the time or has it set not to track.”
“Any cell tower calling data for the night Betty’s parents were killed?”
“Didn’t know about them when I subpoenaed his records. For whatever it’s worth, I’ll send another request.”
“How are we going to do a decent job searching Karpis’s truck?” Kit asked. “I mean, suppose we see a stain in it we think is blood. What then?”
“We’ll look at the crime scene techs who are going with us in their van and say, “Is that blood?”
After they’d all paid and were headed back to their cars, Grandma O pulled Broussard aside, “I think you should check again on dose people we talked about las’ night.”
Broussard nodded. Grandma O wasn’t the kind of person who took it lightly if you disagreed with her about anything. Sometimes when Broussard nodded at what she’d said, it wasn’t because he agreed with her, it was just designed to keep her calm. But in this case, he was already so edgy about Julien and Leona he fully intended to take her advice.
Assassination at Bayou Sauvage Page 17
