But Not Forlorn: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 7)

by BJ Bourg

  I just laughed and asked Justin if he was ready to go.

  “Yeah, it’s time we put this thing to rest. My boss has been calling me nearly every hour to find out if it’s solved yet.”

  While I had mixed feelings about Stephen being the killer, I wanted the case solved, too. Justin shook his head when I drove by the scarred concrete along North Boulevard and then turned into Chet’s driveway. “I can’t believe it’s only been three days since the murder. It seems like a month ago that I met you out here.”

  I nodded, stepped from my Tahoe and approached Chet. He had parked his blue tractor at the edge of his driveway and slid off the seat. He looked a lot older in faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He pulled off a leather glove and shook our hands. “Want some lemon aid?”

  Justin and I both declined. “I’ve got some pictures for you to look at,” I explained. “We may or may not have found the stranger from your meet-and-greet. We need you to look at a picture spread and see if you recognize any of the men in the lineup.”

  “Is he definitely in one of the pictures?” Chet shoved his gloves in a back pocket and pulled some reading glasses from his shirt pocket.

  “We don’t know,” I said. “Only you can tell us if he is.”

  He nodded and licked his lips as I opened the file folder and pulled out the picture spread. All of the names had been removed from the photos and all that remained were the pictures and corresponding numbers from one through six. I handed it to him. “Take your time and—”

  “It’s him!” Chet stabbed a thin finger over Stephen Butler’s face. “That’s the little bastard who was at the event!”

  I knew I didn’t have to, but I asked if he was positive.

  “As sure as the Louisiana sun is hot, that’s the man who came to Lance’s meet-and-greet!”

  I pursed my lips, thanked him.

  “Are you going to arrest him?”

  “We don’t know if he did anything wrong, so I can’t answer that question just yet.”

  “Huh, I know he did it!”

  Once we were back in my Tahoe, I fielded a call from Mrs. Beaman, who wanted to know what was taking so long to catch her husband’s killer. I apologized and tried to explain the investigative process, but she was having none of it.

  “I’ve got a news van over here interviewing me, and I’m going to tell them how you’re in the bag for Pauline if I don’t get some answers—and get them quick!” She hung up before I could say anything, which was probably best. I had a way of saying things that pissed people off at times, so she most likely saved me from myself.

  “Where are we heading?” Justin asked.

  “Stephen lives in the back of town. I think it’s time we pay him a visit.”

  Justin’s face was beaming. “That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s take this bastard down!”

  I called Susan and let her know where we were going.

  “Do y’all want some backup?” she asked. “I’m around the corner.”

  “Sure,” I said. “We could use someone to cover the back.”

  “I’ll round up Baylor and we’ll meet y’all near the east bridge.”

  I ended the call, sped across town, down Washington Avenue, and then took a left onto the bridge that connected the west side of town with the east side. Susan was parked on the shoulder of the road and Baylor’s marked cruiser was next to her vehicle. They fell in behind us as we crossed the bridge and turned onto East Holy Street. Stephen’s house was at the corner of Holy and Cypress Highway.

  While the house was small and aged, there was a long tract of wooded land behind it, and it had all been signed over to him by Pauline. It was prime deer-hunting property and the back of his property pushed up against the small canal that connected Bayou Tail with Forbidden Bayou. Since no one spent much time back there, I’d heard the canal was overflowing with massive bass, hubcap-sized perch, and catfish that were too big for most alligators to eat.

  “There he is!” Justin pointed to the front yard, where Stephen was kneeling with his back to the street, elbow-deep in his flowerbed.

  Susan overtook me and passed me up, turning the corner to cover the eastern side of Stephen’s house. I parked directly in front, which was to the south, and quickly stepped out. Justin’s feet hit the pavement a second behind mine. Stephen whirled around when he heard the doors slam and I saw a spade in his right hand.

  “Drop that tool or I’ll drop you!” Justin hollered, his pistol pushed out in front of him as he led the way toward Stephen.

  CHAPTER 29

  “What on earth is going on?” Stephen immediately dropped the tool and Justin slowed to a stop about thirty feet from him.

  My pistol was still holstered, as was Susan’s. I stepped forward and gave Justin a nod to let him know I was going in to talk with Stephen. Justin lowered his weapon, but didn’t holster it. I had a feeling that if Stephen even let out a sneeze Justin would send an army of hot lead in his direction.

  “Why was he pointing a firearm at me?” Stephen asked when I reached him. “And why is my yard surrounded by police cars?”

  “I need to ask you some questions about Lance Beaman,” I explained. “I know you were at his political event Sunday, right before he was murdered.”

  “Well, I did not murder him, if that is what you are wondering.”

  “It is what I’m wondering.” I shot a thumb toward my Tahoe. “Do you mind coming for a ride with me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do mind.” He shot a hard stare in Justin’s direction. “I was just assaulted by that man, so I am not feeling very inspired to honor your request.”

  “I apologize for that, but I’m sure you must’ve heard about the attack on Officer Melvin Saltzman.” I leaned closer. “It’s got everyone on edge, if you know what I mean. Anytime someone makes an attempt on a cop’s life, well, it inspires other cops to be a little more cautious.”

  Stephen pursed his lips. “I can appreciate that, but I know I did not do anything wrong, so I do not feel like I have to accompany you to your office. If you would like to come inside, I would be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

  “That would be great.” I stepped forward and Justin started to follow me.

  “Not you, sir.” Stephen shook his head. “You nearly took my life, so I do not want you in my home.”

  “What about me?” Susan asked. “Is it okay if I come inside?”

  Stephen’s face softened. “You are always welcome in my home.”

  I nodded to let Justin know it was okay. He begrudgingly shoved his pistol in its holster and ambled toward Baylor Rice’s cruiser. “I wished he hadn’t dropped that tool,” I heard him say to Baylor, who only stared after Susan and me.

  When we were inside, Stephen led us through the kitchen and he stopped at the sink to wash his hands. “Please, have a seat.”

  I dropped in a chair at the head of the table and shifted it so my back was to the wall and I could scan the entire room. Susan took up a chair to my right and I noticed she kept her hand close to her pistol.

  “Do you mind telling me what led you to attend Lance’s political event?” I asked when Stephen had dropped to a chair across from Susan.

  “Opposition research,” he said simply. “I wanted to know what he was saying about Mrs. Cain and I wanted to hear his plans for the future of our town.”

  “I take it you were alone?”

  He nodded.

  “What time did you leave?”

  “I did not look at my watch, but it was toward the end of the speech. I slipped out a side door and left before anyone could figure out who I was. I did what I did of my own accord and Mayor Cain knew nothing about it.”

  “And when you say you did what you did, do you mean you—”

  “I am referring to my attendance at the rally, nothing more. Mayor Cain did not know I was conducting opposition research, and I intend to keep it that way.” He frowned. “I guess it does not matter any longer.”

  �
�Yeah, the only real competition she had is frozen in the morgue at the moment, and he ain’t coming back.” I rubbed my face. “Where’d you go when you left the event?”

  “I walked to where my car was parked and drove away. I stopped at Cig’s for a pound of luncheon meat, bread, and a bottle of wine. Next, I drove home and made myself a sandwich.” He spread his hands palms-down across the table. “Is there anything else you would like to know?”

  “What time did you get home?”

  “It must have been around seven-thirty when I arrived. After I ate my sandwich, I put out some feed for the neighborhood cats and then I sat down to watch television.”

  “Do you remember what you watched?”

  He shook his head. “The Walking Dead had its season finale at the beginning of the month, so I have no idea what I watched. I most likely flipped through the channels until about nine o’clock, at which time I would have retired to my bedroom for the night.”

  I glanced around the tiny kitchen. “Do you live here alone?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “So, no one can confirm you whereabouts Sunday night, right?”

  “Sure, I can confirm where I was Sunday night.”

  “I’m looking for an independent witness who can corroborate your statement,” I explained. “Otherwise, all I have is your own self-serving statement.”

  “Well, then, I guess you will have to settle for my self-serving statement, because that is all I have to offer.”

  I studied the man’s face carefully, searching for the slightest hints of a lie. I didn’t detect any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. “You’re loyal to Mayor Cain, aren’t you?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “And I’m guessing you would do anything for her, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Would you kill for her?”

  “I would.”

  I stifled a grin of admiration. Most people wouldn’t admit they’d kill for someone, especially when they were the potential target of a murder investigation. “And how do you feel about Lance being dead?”

  The right corner of his mouth curled up just a little. “Quite pleased, actually. The man was going around saying some vile things about Mrs. Cain.” He shrugged. “I feel it was just.”

  I spent another five minutes, or so, asking more questions, but I was no closer to figuring out for sure if he did it or not.

  “Does the name Francis Allard mean anything to you?”

  There was a subtle shift of Stephen’s eyes, almost indiscernible, but I’d noticed.

  “I might have heard the name before,” was all he said.

  “Were you aware that Pauline was having an affair?”

  Stephen slammed his fist on the table. “How dare you perpetuate the rumors that Lance Beaman started about Mrs. Cain!”

  I didn’t flinch and my expression remained fixed. “Save the drama, Stephen, I already know about the affair.”

  Where there had been fire in his eyes a split-second earlier, there was now doubt. His eyes drifted from me to Susan, who nodded solemnly. He lowered his head. “That kind of thing could derail her campaign.” His voice was low. “I tried to advise her to stop seeing the man, but I believe she cares for him. I did not want to say this to her, but I believe he is using her. He is not good for her and she deserves much better.”

  As I studied Stephen’s body language while he talked about Pauline, I made a mental note to arrest him immediately if Francis ever turned up dead.

  “How’d you know about the affair?” I asked.

  “As a loyal supporter of Mrs. Cain, I took it upon myself to keep an eye on her when I could. A lady like her, a widow who lives alone, she needs someone to look after her.”

  “You’ve been following her?”

  He hesitated. “It was only once or twice, when I would encounter her along the highway, and I only did it to keep her safe.”

  “Am I correct in assuming you caught her with Francis?”

  “I had gone to the grocery store late one night right before they closed. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw Mrs. Cain drive by. She was heading south, which I thought was odd. I decided to follow her to make sure she was not in distress. As I was following behind her, she drove to an old boat shed she used to own that is south of town. It is where Mr. Cain used to keep one of his boats. When she arrived, there was already another car in the parking lot and I was a little concerned, but I remained in hiding. I waited until she went inside and then I made my way to the back window and peered inside.” His hands began to tremble and he shoved them in his lap and out of view. “There is a kitchen and a bedroom in the boat shed, and this strange man was preparing a meal over the stove. When he was finished, they ate together and then disappeared in the bedroom. I waited on the shoulder of the road until they left, and I followed the man home. That is when I realized the identity of the man.”

  “Did you continue following her?”

  He shook his head. “I should have, but I did not like what I saw and I did not want to see it again.”

  I detected real pain and anger in Stephen’s voice, and I knew he was in love with Pauline. Hell, half the men in this town were in love with her. “Did you confront her about the affair?”

  “Not at first, but I did when she told me about the threat Lance had made.”

  “As a loyal supporter, didn’t you want to retaliate against Lance for making a threat against Pauline?”

  “I did.”

  “And did you?”

  “I did not.”

  “You expect me to believe you sat idly by while this man was threatening the woman you love?”

  Stephen looked up for a long moment, focusing on some spot in the ceiling. When he spoke, his voice trembled. “I cut his brake lines.”

  I nearly choked on my tongue. “You did what?”

  The man sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. “I slipped out of the event before anyone else and made my way to his vehicle. I looked carefully around. When I was sure there were no witnesses, I severed the brakes lines near all four tires. I did want him to die for what he had done to Mrs. Cain, but I did not cause his death. Someone else beat me to it.”

  “I need you to think very carefully…did you hear or see anything at all when you were cutting his brake lines?”

  “No.”

  “Any movement or noise from that clump of trees located at the center of the boulevard?”

  “Nothing.”

  I nodded, began pressing him further on what he’d already said, asking pointed questions and rephrasing them to be sure he was telling the truth. I couldn’t get him to contradict anything he’d already said. Either he was that good at lying or he didn’t kill Lance. When I was done, I surveyed the room. “Do you mind if I search your house?”

  “For what?”

  “A nine millimeter pistol.”

  “I do not own any weapons.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  He waved his hand around. “Help yourself.”

  Susan and I spent the next hour searching for a pistol. We touched everything in sight—moved boxes, opened drawers, checked pockets of clothes—but didn’t turn up a weapon. When we were done, we followed Stephen back to the kitchen and he sank back to his chair at the kitchen table. I was thoughtful as I studied him, trying to see through to his very soul, searching for any hint that he might be the one responsible for killing Lance. “You know you can go to jail for what you did, don’t you?”

  He nodded, sighed. “And I am prepared to do so, but I do not want it known that I am an associate of Mrs. Cain’s. I do not want my actions to reflect poorly on her campaign.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Well, considering the victim hasn’t filed a complaint about the cut brake lines and it didn’t cause his death, I guess there isn’t much we can do about that now.” Besides, I thought, the brake lines have been completely destroyed by the fire, so all we have is your uncorroborated confession. “I
just want you to know one thing; I’m not convinced you didn’t kill Lance, but if you did, and if you’re the one who shot at Melvin, I’m going to find out about it and I’ll be back for you—and I won’t be as nice as I was today.”

  He simply nodded and remained seated while Susan and I turned and walked out of his house.

  CHAPTER 30

  “What the hell happened in there?” Justin asked. “Y’all were inside so long I was about to call out the SWAT team.”

  I explained what Stephen had told us, and Justin scowled. “He admitted to cutting the brake lines?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then he burned the man alive!” He pointed back toward the house. “We need to drag him into the station and interrogate the hell out of him.”

  “We can’t just drag him into the station without a warrant,” I explained, knowing he already knew that. “You heard me ask him to accompany us to the office, but he refused. Unless we get some evidence tying him to the murder, our hands are tied.”

  “But he’s got some questions to answer!”

  “We pressed him pretty hard,” I explained. “I was surprised he told us as much as he did without asking for a lawyer.”

  Justin paced back and forth in front of Stephen’s house. It looked like he was going to go charging into the house at any moment. “We’ve got to get this case solved,” he finally said. “My supervisor called three times while y’all were inside, wanting to know how close we are to catching the killer.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “The truth—we ain’t got nothing yet.”

  I thanked Susan and began walking toward my vehicle. Justin followed my lead and we headed to the police department.

  “What are we supposed to do next?” he asked when we walked up the stairs and made our way to my office.

  I tossed my keys on the desk, dropped to my chair. “I’m not real sure. We’ve talked to every possible witness we could talk to, interviewed every potential suspect we had, and sent every piece of evidence to the crime lab.”