London Carter Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

by BJ Bourg

  “And this worked?” I didn’t know if I believed him. “They’d just agree to give you their old cars if you did odds and ends around the yard?”

  He nodded. “You’d be surprised what people would do to get rid of junk cars.”

  “If they were junk, why would Wilton buy them?”

  “They weren’t complete junk. I mean, Wilton would have his mechanics fix them up and they’d sell them at the used car lot and turn a profit.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way he’d make a profit on that old car in your yard if he bought it for five grand.”

  Cade’s head bopped from side to side. “Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a little. You know, claiming the offer was bigger so I could try to squeeze more money out of Ms. Dawn.”

  “Well then, how much did he really offer you?”

  “Am I going to still get paid for the car?”

  “Nope.”

  He sighed and lowered his head sheepishly. “It was closer to five hundred.”

  I was quiet for a moment, then said, “Well, it seems you were the last person to see him alive, so you need to explain where you were Sunday night.”

  “I was home all night.”

  “What time did Wilton visit you?”

  Cade was thoughtful. “I don’t wear a watch, so the hours all run into each other, if you know what I mean, but it was dark outside.”

  “How long was he at your house when—”

  “Wait a minute!” Cade sat upright in his chair. “I wasn’t the last person to see him alive?”

  “No? Then who was?”

  “I don’t know, but there was a woman in his truck when he stopped by my house.”

  “A woman?” I glanced at the two-way mirror, wanting to ask Dawn what she thought. “What’d she look like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I didn’t see her face, only the back of her head. She didn’t get out of the truck.”

  “Did you notice anything at all about the back of her head?” I pressed.

  “Um…” He was thoughtful for several seconds and then snapped his fingers. “Yes! I do remember something…she had long black hair.”

  “Long black hair?”

  “Yes, sir…she had long black hair. I’m positive about that.”

  I made notes of his last comments and then went back over his story again, getting more details about his activities on the days before, on, and after Wilton’s murder. When I’d asked everything I could think of, I stood to walk out of the room.

  “Can I go home now?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Are you on crack? You tried to take my partner’s head off with an oak tree. You’re going to jail.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “Do you think he knows more than he’s saying?” Dawn asked as we watched a deputy lead Cade Baryon to his patrol cruiser.

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t trust him.” We turned away and walked toward my truck. “I believe we need to pay another visit to Mrs. Michot.”

  “Yeah,” Dawn said. “We need to let her know Wilton was murdered.”

  “I was thinking about asking her if she left her house Sunday night.”

  “You think she was the long-haired woman with Wilton?”

  “I don’t know about that, but I do know this…the one person who can get close enough to a man to kill him is his wife, and this wife has a lot of reasons to kill her man. Maybe she followed him and caught him yet again with another woman. Maybe she finally grew tired of his shenanigans. Maybe Sunday was the night she finally snapped and decided she wanted out of the relationship.” I nodded my head. “I can think of a dozen reasons why she’d want him dead, and I can’t think of another person who could get close enough to him to shove an ice pick through his ear—and let’s not forget it happened at his own house.”

  Dawn was quiet as we stepped into my truck and rode off. Finally, she said, “You know, if he’s going around indiscriminately infecting women, we could have a long list of possible suspects. And considering how little respect he has for his wife, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s taken women to the pool house for his little romps.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t.

  Dawn started reviewing her notes while I drove. “After we visit Katina, I think we should stop by Twisted Long Necks.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Do you need a drink?”

  “Oh, Lord…I wouldn’t drink bottled water from that place.”

  I’d been in that bar more times than I wanted to admit, but none of the visits were for pleasure. I finally turned into the driveway of the Michot estate and shut off the engine.

  “Who’s leading?” I asked. Having worked with different detectives over the years, I’d recognized that Dawn’s style of interviewing matched my own—we both sat back and allowed the other to conduct the interview with minimal interruption—and I greatly appreciated it. Nothing killed the flow of an interview more than another detective jumping in and asking a random question that didn’t pertain to the current line of questions.

  “I’ll take her,” Dawn said. “I feel like we connected earlier.”

  We had to knock several times before Katina Michot jerked the door open. She wore sweat pants and an oversized T-shirt. It was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra and there wasn’t a hint of makeup on her flushed face. She pulled back when she saw us. “Oh! I wasn’t expecting you two. Is there something wrong?”

  Dawn frowned. “I’m sorry about dropping in unannounced, but something’s come up and we need to speak with you right away.”

  Curiosity spread across Katina’s face as she stepped back and let us inside. When I walked by her, I smelled wine on her breath. I glanced at Dawn and she nodded, indicating she smelled it, too.

  Katina pointed the way to the kitchen and asked us to take a seat at a long bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Once we were seated, she made her way to the opposite side of the bar and leaned her back against the kitchen counter, facing us and cradling a glass of red wine in her hands. “So, what’s going on?”

  “Ma’am, you might want to sit for this,” Dawn said slowly. “It’s about your husband.”

  Katina shook her head. While her eyes were puffy and red, they were dry. “Just say it. Whatever it is, it can’t be any worse than what’s already happened.”

  After taking a deep breath, Dawn exhaled slowly. “Well, ma’am, the coroner has been able to determine the cause of death in this case, which helped determine the manner of death.”

  Katina’s face scrunched up. “What do you mean by cause and manner of death?”

  “In the simplest of terms, the cause of death is the action that caused your husband’s death, and the manner is the classification the coroner assigns to the case.” Dawn paused for a second. When she continued, she explained that the manner of death was homicide.

  “Homicide?” Katina coolly took a sip of her wine and nodded slowly. “So, doesn’t that mean he was murdered?”

  “It does.”

  “I see.” She stared down at her glass, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “Was it an angry husband?”

  “Well, it seems whoever killed him had to get real close to do it,” Dawn explained. “So close, they had to be intimate.”

  Katina looked up. “His lover killed him?”

  “At the moment, we’re not sure who killed him, but we’re hoping you can help us.”

  “I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  Dawn’s brow furrowed as she studied Katina closely. The lack of emotion from the recently widowed woman had probably aroused her curiosity, as it had mine. “Ma’am, you do realize your husband was murdered, right? Someone shoved an ice pick in his ear.”

  That brought a reaction from Katina, but only in the form of a raised eyebrow. “An ice pick? Who kills someone with an ice pick these days?”

  Katina sipped from the glass of wine again and Dawn sto
od and walked around the bar. She stopped when she was standing beside Katina. They stood there staring at each other for a long moment and I began to wonder if they would start fighting, but Dawn finally put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Do you need to speak with someone about what’s happened…a professional, perhaps?”

  Katina shrugged a slender shoulder. “What good would that do?”

  “It might help you cope with what’s happened.”

  “I’m coping just fine, thank you very much.” Katina turned away from Dawn and reached for the wine bottle. She poured what was left of it in her glass and took a long drink. When she set it down on the counter, she wiped her mouth on her short sleeve, leaving a red stain on the fabric.

  “Do you know I cried myself to sleep last night?” She nodded, drumming the glass on the counter. “I cried for hours and hours before I finally fell asleep. When I woke up this morning, you know what I realized?”

  “What?” Dawn asked.

  “I realized it was just another miserable and lonely night in my house. I’ve been crying myself to sleep for years…ever since I caught Wilton with Lisa in that damn pool. It hurt so bad, you know? Like he had reached in my chest with a flaming fist and just ripped my heart right out.” She shook her head. “Try as I might, I couldn’t get over the pain and betrayal I felt. I couldn’t look in his eyes anymore. And it only got worse as we grew farther apart. He was out of control, sticking his dick in everyone he could find.”

  I looked at Dawn and scrunched my brow. She’d noticed, too, but didn’t say anything. After a moment of silence, Katina continued.

  “I’m used to sleeping alone because he was never there for me, so not much will change around here.” She downed the last of the wine and nodded. “Yep, the only thing that’ll change is I won’t have to listen to the lies anymore. I’ll finally be able to live my life in peace.”

  Dawn pointed out the kitchen window toward her cabana. “Aren’t you a bit concerned about the fact that someone murdered your husband right over there?”

  “If they would’ve wanted me dead, they would have already done it.” She shook her head. “No, I’m not one bit worried, because they got who they wanted.”

  As I watched this woman interacting with Dawn, I was struck by how bitter she was. Surely, it was a strong enough emotion to compel her to kill her husband.

  “Ma’am, you do realize that we performed a sex crimes kit on your husband, right?” Dawn asked.

  “So?”

  “So, if you were the one who killed him while y’all were having sex, then we’ll find your DNA on him.”

  Katina broke out in a guttural laugh. “That’s a good one! He hasn’t touched me in months, so you won’t find my DNA anywhere around him. Hell, we don’t even drink after each other anymore.”

  Dawn glanced at her notepad, then said, “You mentioned earlier that Wilton would stick his dick in everyone he could find. I was curious why you didn’t say every woman.”

  “I said everyone because he sticks his dick in everyone he can get his hands on—man or woman.”

  I began to wonder if the wine was clouding Katina’s judgment and making her embellish her husband’s affairs.

  “Wait a minute,” Dawn said. “Is he bisexual?”

  “He’s try-sexual—he’ll try any damn thing out there. He’d probably screw a muffler if you put lipstick on it.”

  Dawn looked at me and then turned back to Katina. “What do you know about his relationship with Cade Baryon?”

  “I know they’re too damn close to just be friends.”

  “Meaning...?”

  “Meaning…I think they’re boyfriends.”

  “Do you have any proof of this?” Dawn asked.

  Katina shook her head. “I’ve never caught them together naked, if that’s what you’re asking, but there have been many times when Cade would come banging on the door in the middle of the night. Wilton would head to the cabana with him and stay back there for a long time.”

  “Did you ever follow them?” Dawn asked.

  “Only once. I almost got caught, so I never did it again.” Katina scratched her neck and stared at the ceiling. “It was probably a year ago. When I approached the front of the cabana, I saw Wilton handing him a wad of cash. It made me angry, because he never gave me any amount of cash—not even twenty bucks to go to the casino.”

  I grunted…yet another motive for Katina to kill her husband.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” I asked Dawn once we were back in my truck. We had decided to go home for the afternoon and meet again later in the evening to visit Twisted Long Neck. That way, we’d have a better chance of encountering the same crowd Wilton encountered when he showed up there Sunday evening. It certainly didn’t pay to visit a bar when it was closed.

  “She seems sincere,” Dawn said, “but you never really know.” She scanned her notes as I drove, mumbling softly to herself. When she flipped the notepad shut, she rattled off a list of things she wanted to do, which included obtaining search warrants for Wilton’s bank records. “If he was doling out money to Cade, maybe we can establish a pattern and determine a motive.”

  “If you want, I’ll check with the dealership to see if Wilton was really buying cars from him.”

  “Good idea, because I don’t believe that story for a second.”

  I was thoughtful as I drove, then told Dawn we needed to find that long haired woman. “Maybe she’ll be at the bar.”

  “If she exists at all. Remember, no one has seen her but Cade, so it’s very possible she’s a red herring. If we’re out looking for a woman, we’ll never suspect a man.”

  That made sense. “You really believe Cade’s a male prostitute?”

  She grunted. “I can’t believe anyone would pay to have sex with him, but, as they say, one woman’s trash is another man’s lover.”

  I stared sideways at her. “I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

  She just shrugged and changed the subject, making small talk until we arrived at the detective bureau in Payneville. She jumped out of my truck and shot a thumb toward the entrance to the building.

  “I’ll get the electronic warrants done and send them off to the judge,” she said. “Afterward, I’m going to put on my dancing shoes, because we’ve got a big date at the Long Neck tonight.” She said the last part of her comment in the thickest Cajun accent she could muster, and then abruptly turned to walk away.

  I stared after her, wondering if she’d meant anything about the date. It was the second time she’d referred to our time together as a date—once in the woods when we were tracking the Trinity Sniper and just now. Sure, she’d said it in jest, but what if it was a hint? Was I supposed to ask her out? She seemed to enjoy hanging out with me, but what if I was totally misreading the situation?

  I shook my head and drove off, wishing I could read women as well as I could read range and windage before taking a sniper shot.

  As I headed to the dealership, my thoughts turned back to Dawn’s interview with Katina Michot. I wanted another crack at Cade. I needed to know more about his relationship with Wilton. Why would he show up at Wilton’s house in the middle of the night to make a deal on old cars? Hopefully, I’ll soon have the answers to those questions, I thought, pulling into the parking lot at Olivier’s Car Dealership.

  I jumped out of my truck just as they were shutting down, but one of the secretaries let me in and showed me to Eugene Olivier’s office. He looked up in surprise when he saw me at the door.

  “Detective…what can I do for you?”

  I told him what Cade had said about his arrangement with Wilton and asked if there was any record of the transactions between the two men.

  Eugene’s brows puckered as he started tapping away at the keyboard with his pudgy fingers. “I’d be very surprised if such an arrangement existed with anyone. We don’t typically buy used cars—we only take them in trade—but Wilton might have been doi
ng something on the side that I wasn’t aware of.”

  I took a seat and waited patiently. He squinted at one point and traced his finger across the monitor. He mumbled something to himself and then went back to typing. After doing this a number of times, he leaned back and shook his head. “No one here has had any transactions with this Cade Baryon. Could it be that Wilton had personal dealings with the man?”

  I nodded absently. “It’s very possible.” To myself, I said, “Intimate dealings.”

  I thanked him and left. Before driving out of the parking lot, I texted Dawn and let her know what Eugene had said.

  On my way home, I called our personnel director, Karen, and asked how many people had applied for the open sniper spots. I was down to three team members, and I needed eight. The last time I’d opened it to the department I hadn’t been pleased with any of the five candidates who applied, so I hadn’t chosen a single one. I’d received some criticism for being too picky, but I didn’t care. When it came to being a police sniper, there was no such thing as being too selective. Not everyone was cut out to do this job, and I wasn’t about to risk the lives of innocent people, fellow snipers, or other law enforcement officers just to bring my team up to full capacity. They either met my requirements or they weren’t going to serve on my team…period.

  After placing me on hold for a few minutes, Karen returned to the phone. I could hear her rustling papers in the background. “Okay…it looks like you have a dozen candidates.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “How do I know who you know?” she asked, laughing. “Seriously, though, Detective Rachael Bowler applied, and I know you work with her.”

  “Really?” As a detective, Rachael was meticulous, driven, and patient, as well as being loyal to the job. She definitely had the temperament of a sniper. If she passed each phase of the process, she would become the first female sniper in the history of Magnolia Parish. “She didn’t mention she was interested.”

  “I can send you the rest of the names if you like.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll meet them when we do the tryouts.”