London Carter Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

by BJ Bourg

  I turned to Detective Rachael Bowler, whose desk was across from mine. “Who left this?”

  She shrugged, pointed to the small envelope clipped to the basket. “Whoever it is, they must really like you.”

  I tore open the envelope and read the card.

  London,

  Thanks for the shooting lesson last week. I really enjoyed it and learned so much. The more time I spend with you, the more impressed I become.

  Oh, and welcome back to the grind!

  Dawn

  “What are you grinning about?” Rachael’s voice snapped me out of the moment.

  I waved her off. “It’s nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Who’s it from?”

  I ignored her and took my seat, lost in thought. Dawn had soaked up every bit of information I threw at her, asking lots of questions and applying everything I taught her to the exercises and drills I put her through. We had remained at the firing range late into the night until, reluctantly—for me, at least—we had to part ways.

  I snatched my cell phone from my pocket and hurried outside. Standing in the shade of the overhang on the north side of the building, I dialed Dawn’s number. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Dawn, I wanted to call and thank you for the candy basket. How’d you know I loved Sno-Caps?”

  “Lucky guess, I guess.” Her voice sounded distant and she seemed distracted. “And you’re very welcome. I appreciated the shooting tips.”

  “You sound busy. I can call back later, if you want.”

  “What are you doing right now?” she asked.

  “You mean other than talking with you on the phone? Nothing.”

  “Do you mind taking a drive out to Seasville? I’m at a death scene with a forty-something-year-old man, but there’s no obvious cause of death.”

  “Are you thinking foul play?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Dawn said. “His wife found him lying on the sofa in his cabana with his junk hanging out. There aren’t any obvious signs of drugs or alcohol abuse and he hasn’t vomited, so I doubt it’s an overdose. His wife said he didn’t have a heart condition or any other medical ailment that she knew about. There’s no trauma at all that I can see, but he’s definitely dead. It’s puzzling.”

  I loved a challenge and never turned down the opportunity to investigate a death case, especially since I considered homicide investigations the highest calling. It was my opinion that murder was the most egregious offense imaginable, and I strongly believed homicide detectives worked directly for God. Thus, who in their right mind would pass up the chance to work for God?

  “I’m on my way.” I hurried toward my truck. “Where am I going?”

  Dawn gave me the address and then paused before hanging up. “Oh, and one more thing, London.”

  “What is it?” I asked, cranking the engine on my truck and speeding out of the parking lot.

  “The victim is Wilton Michot—the manager of Olivier’s Car Dealership in Mathport.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Dawn was partially right about Wilton’s state of dress. His belt was unbuckled, pants unbuttoned, zipper pulled down, and his junk was exposed, but nothing was hanging out. He was lying on his back on the sofa and was clad in fancy jeans, a flannel shirt, and expensive cowboy boots. If I knew skin—and I really didn’t—it was alligator. I grunted, as I wondered what Shannon Reed would say about a hateful person who dared to walk around with his feet covered in the skin of a harmless deceased alligator.

  As though reading my mind, Dawn pointed to the boots and asked if I thought Shannon Reed had an alibi.

  “He’d better.” As I stared down at the man, I remembered seeing him through my scope during the hostage situation. I turned to Dawn. “Do you think this is connected to the hostage call in some way?”

  She shrugged. “At first, I thought he might’ve been traumatized by the incident and committed suicide, but I don’t see anything to indicate he killed himself.”

  “Do we know what set off Gaylord LeDoux?”

  “According to Beth LeDoux’s friends, she was having an affair with one of the salesmen at work and Gaylord found out about it. They said he was the jealous type and was forever coming around the dealership to check on Beth.”

  “Did you find out who was having an affair with her?”

  “They all suspected the salesman who was murdered because he was always coming into her cubicle area and whispering with her. And it wasn’t the first time Gaylord stopped to visit and caught her talking to him. According to one of the secretaries, Gaylord had caused a scene about a month ago when he found the two of them laughing together by the water cooler. He had to be escorted out.”

  “This all seems too coincidental,” I mumbled.

  Dawn walked around to the end of the sofa where Wilton’s head was positioned and pointed to the ground. A cowboy hat was resting on the marble floor. “It looks like he was in full character except for spurs and chap guards.”

  I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for Wilton, whose pale genitals were on display for all to see. “My grandpa used to say he wanted to die with his boots on, but I don’t think this was what he had in mind.”

  “If he was my husband and I loved him, I would’ve at least zipped him up before calling nine-one-one.” Dawn shook her head. “His wife must really hate him.”

  I glanced back at the hat, and then studied Wilton’s position more closely. The left side of his body was separated from the back of the sofa and created just enough space to fit a human leg. “You might be on to something.”

  “About what?” Dawn asked from the far side of the room near a bar, where she began digging in the trashcan. “About Shannon being the killer?”

  “No…about him being in full character. What if Wilton was playing some sort of sex game with someone and his wife found him like this? If she wasn’t the one in here having sex with him, I’m sure she suspected he was up to no good. If she thought he was in here cheating on her, then that would be incentive enough to embarrass him by just leaving him lying here exposed.”

  “True,” Dawn conceded, “but in his current state, I don’t think he cares.”

  I leaned close and noticed that lividity (pooling of the blood after death—affected by gravitational pull and manifested as purple discoloration) was present along the edges of Wilton’s hands and neck. It was consistent with the position of his body, so it was safe to say this was where he died. After pulling on a set of latex gloves, I pressed on one of the patches of lividity, but it didn’t blanch.

  “Lividity is fixed,” I said. “He’s been dead at least six hours.”

  Dawn looked at her watch. “That would be roughly three in the morning—right after the bars close.”

  I began moving around the large cabana with Dawn, helping her search it for evidence. The side of the room facing the swimming pool was made of solid glass and had two sets of sliding doors. I examined the locking mechanisms on both sets of doors. They were intact and operable. I then checked all of the windows in the building and found that they were all locked and free of damage. Next, I checked under all of the furniture but found nothing of evidentiary value.

  While I was doing that, Dawn disappeared through one of the sliding doors and returned about fifteen minutes later.

  “All of the garbage cans outside are also clean,” she said. “No pills, no empty beer bottles, no drug paraphernalia, no poison…nothing at all to suggest how he died.”

  “Did you get all of your measurements and photographs already?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  I pointed to the body. “Want to turn him over and see if there are any surprises? Maybe there’s a knife in his back and the killer’s identification card is between the cushions.”

  “Let’s hope it’s that easy.”

  I grabbed Wilton’s arms and she grabbed his legs. Taking care not to flip him off of the sofa, we rolled him onto one side and examined the back of his shirt. There was nothin
g noteworthy. I carefully lifted the tail of his shirt and examined his back. The parts of his flesh that had made contact with the sofa were white, which was consistent with how the blood pools after death.

  There were no injuries or smoking guns under his body, so we allowed him to rock back in place.

  “Maybe he was having sex and his partner was so good she caused him to have a heart attack,” Dawn suggested.

  “That would mean we’re missing another body—a live one.” I rubbed my chin. “Can you think of a reason why a wife would lie about having sex with her husband if he died during the act?”

  “Do you think she was the one having sex with him?”

  “Let’s say it was her and they were into autoerotic asphyxiation. If she choked him too long and he accidentally died, then that could scare her into thinking she was going to jail for murder.”

  Dawn moved toward Wilton’s head and pushed his eyelids open. She shook her head. “No petechial hemorrhaging, so that’s out.”

  I sighed. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to wait for the autopsy.”

  “The coroner’s investigators are en route to pick up the body.” Dawn pointed out the cabana window toward the main house, where a thin woman was sitting on a large swing watching us intently. “Why don’t we go see what Mrs. Michot has to say?”

  CHAPTER 8

  “He didn’t come in last night,” said a tearful Katina Michot as she pushed strands of long black hair out of her face. “But that wasn’t uncommon. He was always working late at the dealership, so I’d often go to bed before he came home. When I woke up this morning and realized he wasn’t in bed, well, that was when I started to grow concerned. I thought maybe he’d been in a wreck, but when I came out back I saw his truck in the driveway. I searched the house, calling his name as I went, but he didn’t answer.”

  “Yesterday was Sunday,” Dawn pointed out. “Is the dealership open on Sundays?”

  “No, but it doesn’t have to be open for Wilton to go to work. He’s the manager, so he’s in there every day, including Sundays and holidays. If it’s not a work day, he’s in there getting ready for the next one.”

  “Was it common for him to stay gone all night?” Dawn asked in a soft voice.

  Katina shook her head. “He’d often stay out late and would sometimes stumble in at three or four in the morning, but he’s never been gone all night. Well, unless he was out of town, but he didn’t go out of town last night.”

  “You said stumbled,” Dawn began. “Does that mean he’d come in drunk?”

  “Oh, yeah, lots of times. It was one of our regular fights. He’d spend more time in the bars and at work than he would at home.”

  Dawn nodded and then asked what made her go to the cabana.

  “It was the only place I hadn’t checked.” Katina rubbed her leaky nose with a tissue. “Sometimes, when we’re fighting, he’d go off into the cabana to sleep it off. I’ve found him passed out on that sofa many times, but I’ve never…I never thought… Oh, God!”

  Katina broke down in sobs and Dawn moved closer, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry we have to do this so soon after. We just need to find out as much as you know, and we need to find out as soon as possible.”

  As I watched Dawn console the victim’s wife, I couldn’t help but admire Dawn. She could be soft and caring in one instant, yet decisive and aggressive in the next. I’d met a lot of strong women in my life, but none quite like Dawn.

  When Katina had regained her composure somewhat, Dawn continued questioning her. “What’s the first thing you noticed when you entered the cabana?”

  “I actually noticed Wilton before I went inside.” Katina stared off into space and shook her head, as though seeing the image in her mind’s eye again. “I don’t understand why his privates were exposed. I’ve never seen him like that before. I mean, he’s stumbled into bed a few times with his zipper undone when he was drunk, but you couldn’t see any flesh. When I first saw him this morning, I thought he was sleeping. I stormed inside screaming at him and asking him what the hell he was doing in front of the window half naked.” She shook her head slowly. “When he didn’t stir, I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think he was dead. I just thought he was really drunk or sick. I…I never imagined I’d lose him.”

  Katina buried her face in her hands and wept again. Dawn was patient. She quietly comforted the woman until she was able to speak intelligibly again.

  “You mentioned Wilton would go off and sleep in the cabana sometimes,” Dawn said. “Would he stay gone all night when you two were fighting?”

  “Yes, he’s done that many times.”

  Dawn looked at me and began chewing on her lower lip. I knew what was coming, and was happy she was leading the interview.

  “Mrs. Michot, I hate to delve into your personal life, but I need to know if—”

  “Yes,” Katina said, interrupting Dawn. “Wilton was having an affair. Hell, he’s had many affairs.”

  Dawn clamped her mouth shut and listened as Katina spoke.

  “The first time it happened, it was with my best friend, Lisa. Well, my former best friend. It was several years ago. We were hosting a party here at the house and a bunch of us were eating inside when I noticed Lisa and Wilton were the only ones not in the house. I went outside and caught them making out in the pool. They didn’t see me, so I ran inside and got Lisa’s husband. By the time we returned outside, her top was off and he was kissing on her breasts.” She shook her head. “It was the most sickening thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “What happened next?” Dawn asked.

  “When we confronted them, Lisa pushed away from Wilton and began saying he forced himself on her. I knew she was lying, because she’d always been a big flirt. Besides, I’d seen the way she was kissing Wilton in the pool. Her husband went after Wilton, but I threatened to call the cops. Lisa grabbed her husband and left. She didn’t even bother putting her top back on.”

  “How’d you and Wilton get along after that?”

  “Well, he apologized and swore it had only been a one-time thing.” She hung her head. “Like a fool, I believed him. It wasn’t six weeks later that he was caught screwing a high school teacher in a stall at the carwash. Can you believe that? They parked in the stall and just started having sex—right out there in public where anyone could’ve driven by and seen them.”

  “How’d they get caught?” Dawn asked.

  “A cop stopped to check them out and he caught them.” She shook her head. “When the cop drove up with Wilton in the back seat and told me what happened, it was all I could do to stay with him.”

  “Why didn’t you divorce him?” I could tell Dawn was struggling to hide her contempt.

  “He said he was drunk and she came on to him in a time of weakness. He promised it would never happen again.”

  Dawn nodded slowly, and then asked how long it had taken for it to happen again.

  “A month, maybe two. He promised to go to marriage counseling after that one. I was a bit encouraged, so I made several appointments, but he never showed up.”

  “Let me guess—he did it again.”

  “Yeah, he picked up a hitchhiker on his way home one night. They ended up behind a cemetery and the grounds keeper called the cops and reported a suspicious vehicle in the area.” Katina sighed. “He was drunk again, so they called me to pick him up from the station.”

  Dawn’s arms were folded across her breasts now. “And you still didn’t leave him.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Katina threw her hands up in the air. “He wouldn’t let me work. He controlled every dime we had. The house was in his name. Our cars weren’t our cars—they belonged to the dealership. I had nowhere to go and no money to get there. What was I supposed to do?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” Dawn’s face softened. “I just don’t like it when someone lets another person walk all over them. It’s easy for me to sit here and ask why you put up with it when I don’t ev
en have a man in my life.”

  “The truth is…I liked our life and I didn’t want it to end.” She rubbed her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “It got to the point that he knew I wouldn’t leave and I knew he wouldn’t stop, so we both kind of went about our business and stayed out of each other’s way.” She grunted. “My business was taking care of the house and his was doing whatever the hell he wanted and whenever he wanted. I promised myself I would eventually get up the nerve to leave, but then…”

  Katina grew silent. She just stopped talking and stared down at her hands. Dawn put a hand on her arm. “But then what?”

  “He gave me an incurable STD.”

  Dawn gasped. “Are you serious?”

  “I actually believe he intentionally gave it to me to make sure I’d stay with him. While I wasn’t enough for him, he needed me and, in his own strange way, I do believe he loved me.”

  “If he was always running around, then why’d he need you?”

  “He needed someone to keep his house in order and to be there when he had to impress folks at a party or some other gathering. He used to say that married men garnered more respect, because if a man can hold down a marriage, he can accomplish anything.”

  It was my turn to grunt. I wanted to tell her how stupid it was, but kept my mouth shut. Neither Dawn nor Katina seemed to notice my grunt, and Dawn asked if Wilton had any current girlfriends that she knew about.

  “He murdered the last girl he slept with.”

  Dawn’s head snapped around. “Excuse me?”

  “He passed on his STD to Beth LeDoux and Beth passed it on to her husband. He told me Beth’s husband went on a two-day bender after leaving the doctor’s office and then stumbled into the dealership to find the man responsible.” Katina shook her head. “Like the true coward he is, Wilton locked himself in the bathroom while Beth and an innocent salesman died for his sins.”