by BJ Bourg
A quick glance over my shoulder revealed a second figure—that of a man—on the opposite side of the boat. He was also wearing an alligator head and he was pointing a pump-action shotgun at Melvin. I could see the look in Melvin’s eyes and I knew he was thinking what I was thinking—we might not make it out of here alive.
CHAPTER 12
Mechant Loup Spring Festival
It was eleven o’clock at the fair and the band was just starting to play. Susan was leaning against a metal post near the food booths staring out at the crowd of people who were milling around. To her left at the back of the nearest booth, two men were standing over large fryers tending to the catfish, while an elderly lady with big hair and a dark blue apron was shoving basket after basket of the fried fish to customers.
Susan glanced to her right, where the rides were located. Beyond the rides stretched one of the grassy fields that served as a parking lot. Takecia was somewhere in the lot waiting on Blondie and Hulk. Susan picked up her police radio.
“Anything, Takecia?”
“Negative. Many people are now coming in, but I do not see our blonde lady and the big man.”
Susan allowed her eyes to drift back toward the left, stopping only long enough to quickly take in the faces of every person in that area. Her gaze had almost reached the dance floor area when she caught sight of a red tank-top pushing his way through the thick crowd. Directly behind him was a tall blonde with what looked like napkins for shorts, a matching tank-top, and oversized sunglasses.
“That’s got to be them!” she said out loud. After radioing Takecia that she’d spotted them, Susan began ambling toward that area of the dance floor, which was where they seemed to be heading. She had just stepped out into the sunshine when she saw Mayor Cain shaking hands with some people near the ticket stand.
Mayor Cain had always been one to wear elegant clothing, so it was different to see her sporting around in faded jeans and cowgirl boots. She looked up when Susan got closer and Susan gave a solemn nod. Pauline immediately cut her conversation short and approached Susan.
“They’re here,” Susan said, indicating with her head toward the couple who had just stepped onto the wooden dance floor.
“What’re you going to do?” Pauline asked, wringing her hands as she stood beside Susan.
On the way to the fair earlier, Susan had called Beth and asked her to run a records check on Alastair and Courtney Albert. It turned out that there were contempt of court warrants for Alastair, because he failed to appear for his arraignment on domestic battery charges. There was also a restraining order in place against Alastair relative to the same charges, and the victim was Courtney.
“I’m going to wait until they head back to their vehicle and then I’ll arrest him and take them both to the police department,” Susan said firmly. “Hopefully, Clint will be back by then and he’ll be able to interrogate them about the murder.”
“What if Clint’s not back by then?” Pauline asked.
“I guess I’ll have to do the questioning.”
“What if they fight?”
“Then you’ll have to pay their medical bills.” Susan smiled and walked away, meeting Takecia near the edge of the pavilion. There were three deputies from the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office on duty at the fair, and Susan got on the radio to let them know her plan. Although she wanted to take Alastair down in the parking lot away from the crowd, she still had to be ready in case he tried something. As far as she knew, he could be a murder suspect, and she needed to keep him contained.
Once the deputies confirmed receipt of her traffic, Susan and Takecia spread out a little and waited for Alastair and Courtney to finish partying and head for their car. Susan was hoping they wouldn’t keep dancing until the fair shut down, but as the minutes dragged by it was clear this would be a long day.
After about thirty minutes of nonstop boogieing, Courtney leaned over during a break in the music and said something in Alastair’s ear. He nodded, turned away from the stage, and headed for the sidelines, nearly pulling Courtney behind him. They pushed through the crowd and passed the beer stand.
They’re taking a bathroom break! Susan walked briskly in their direction while trying to get a bead on Takecia’s location. She couldn’t see her officer through the thick crowd, so she jerked the radio from her belt. “Takecia, we’re heading for the portable bathrooms.”
There was no reply. Susan continued walking after the couple. She hopped a little as she walked to gain some height and was finally able to see Takecia through the crowd. Takecia was scanning the dance floor. There was a puzzled expression on her face.
Susan realized Takecia must not have seen the couple leave the dance floor. With the amount of people at the festival, it was easy to lose track of someone. Susan continued following Alastair and Courtney until they reached the portable toilets. She kept calling for Takecia as she trailed the couple, but it was no use. The noise was too great where Takecia was standing and she would never hear the radio over the loud music.
Susan stopped near one of the fair games—this one advertised a chance to win a stuffed animal by hitting three out of three balloons with darts—and watched out of the corner of her eye as Alastair opened the door to one of the bathrooms. He held it open for Courtney to enter, and then he stood back to wait.
The area was mostly clear of people because the band was playing. Many of the nearby rides were empty, because most of the thrill rides the kids liked were on the opposite side of the fairgrounds. Susan gauged the distance between them. It was no more than fifty feet. If Alastair didn’t notice her on the approach, she would have the advantage and might be able to take him down before he knew what hit him, but if he saw her, she might be in a desperate fight.
Susan gave one last call over the radio for Takecia. When there was no answer, she took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the game and started walking nonchalantly toward Alastair. The man’s shoulders were as wide as a truck and his hands looked like balls of ham. It appeared he lifted a lot of weights and Susan knew that would serve as an advantage for her. Large muscles required more blood and oxygen to operate, so he would tire out easier. Additionally, the larger muscles would slow down his movements, and it would be easier for her to slip his strikes and maneuver around him as she broke him down—well, if it came to that.
Susan was still twenty feet away from Alastair when he turned and saw her approaching. She must’ve had an intense look in her eyes, because he instinctively took a half step backward. She quickly smiled and nodded. “How are you, sir?”
Confused, Alastair looked around. When he didn’t see any other officers, he seemed to relax a bit. “I’m good…how are you?”
“Never better.” Ten feet away now. Susan shot a thumb upward. “Weather’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Alastair glanced upward, then caught himself and quickly focused on Susan again. “Yeah, I guess…whoa, what are you doing?”
Susan was closing in quickly now, a look of determination in her eyes, and Alastair began backing away.
“Alastair Albert, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest—”
“The hell you do!” Alastair turned and bolted in the direction of the parking lot. He was a lot quicker than Susan expected him to be. His thick legs pumped like pistons on a muscle car and he quickly left her in his dust. Although her right fibula had healed from when she broke it, she hadn’t regained full strength in the muscles of her right leg and she couldn’t run as fast as she used to.
“Damn it,” she muttered out loud, running as fast as her legs would carry her and worrying that she would lose him.
When they hit the grassy parking lot, she saw him falter a little. A devilish grin played out across her face as she realized what was happening. The big man’s getting tired!
Susan’s wind was always excellent and she was not even close to breathing hard from the short and explosive exertion. She had been trained to breathe through her nose and exhale through her mouth
while fighting, and this helped to keep her heart rate under control. Now, as this hulk of a man was slowing down and she would have to fight him, she knew she would need all the help she could get.
Alastair suddenly took a sharp right and ran between two rows of tightly-parked cars. He was stumbling now and bounced off of several cars like a pinball, causing a dent in one and a long scratch on another. Susan made a mental note to remember to charge him for criminal damage to property. She would have to come back and run the plates to get the victim’s names—
“Oh, shit!”
Alastair’s scream brought Susan to a sudden halt as she watched the big man break through the rows of cars and crash into the driver’s side quarter panel of a bright orange Dodge Charger. The car shook violently, but Alastair didn’t seem bothered by the collision. He spun to his right and was about to take a step in that direction when Susan caught him.
CHAPTER 13
Somewhere in the Forbidden Swamps of Louisiana
Water dripped from the long red hair that flowed beneath the alligator head attached to the woman who held the double-barrel shotgun on me. She stood waist deep in the water. Although I couldn’t accurately estimate how tall she was, she had to be at least five-six. The white shirt she wore was drenched and it revealed most of what God had given her, but she didn’t seem to care.
My AR-15 was angled downward. While action was quicker than reaction and I figured I could get off the first shot, I wasn’t confident my bullet would incapacitate her instantly. If it didn’t and she let loose with those two barrels, she could just about cut me in half.
“We don’t want any trouble,” I said slowly. “We’re looking for the family of Chester Raymond.”
The girl’s jaw was set and her wide mouth was turned downward at the corners. “You’re trespassing on private property,” she said in a clear and cool voice. “We could end you right here and it would be a free killing.”
I wanted to explain that it was against Louisiana law to use deadly force to defend property, but I didn’t think it was a good time for a teaching moment. So, instead, I said, “We’re here on official police business.”
I stole a glance toward Melvin. He was studying the shirtless man in front of him. The man’s long hair was pulled back into a single braid and there was a nasty scar over his right eye. He was also up to his waist in water and he held his shotgun with confidence. His right index finger was pressed tightly against the trigger, and I knew the slightest pressure would send a blast of twelve-gauge madness directly into Melvin’s body.
I couldn’t see Melvin’s face, but I knew by his stance that he was weighing his options and that he planned on going down fighting. I hoped like hell it wouldn’t come to that, because I figured we’d all end up dead.
When the woman didn’t speak again, I turned back to her and asked if she knew Chester. “You actually kind of favor him. Are you his daughter?”
The barrel of her shotgun didn’t waver, and neither did her expression.
“Look, my name is Clint. I work for the Mechant Loup Police Department. I have something to tell the family of Chester Raymond, but it’s private and can only be told to them. If you’re not his daughter, just shake your head and we’ll slowly back away and never come here again. You have my word.”
Still nothing from the woman. It was as though she had turned into a statue.
“Okay, then,” I said, gambling. “Since you didn’t shake your head, I’m going to assume you are Mr. Raymond’s daughter. In that case, I can share the information with you.” I stole another glance in the direction of Melvin and the man, then turned once more to the woman in front of me. “I don’t know if you know it or not, but your dad was working at the festival in town. From all accounts, he’s a very hard worker and everyone loves him.”
I paused for a moment and searched her face for the slightest hint of emotion. Anger, fear, curiosity—anything. But there was nothing. I continued. “While we don’t know exactly what happened, it seems there was a disagreement between your dad and another man. Your dad hid out in a portable bathroom and…”
I allowed my voice to trail off, wondering if these really were his family. The woman seemed disinterested and the man hadn’t moved a muscle since emerging from the water.
“Well, I don’t know if it was the man involved in the disagreement, but I’m so sorry to have to tell you that someone shot your dad while he sat in the portable bathroom.”
The muzzle of the shotgun dipped slightly and I thought I saw the woman’s eyes widen ever so slightly. This is his daughter.
“I hate to have to tell you this, but he didn’t make it, ma’am. Your father succumbed to his injuries yesterday evening.”
Although her expression remained fixed, a single tear slid from her left eye and rolled down her cheek, where it dropped from her face and splashed silently into the water at her waist.
“What the hell did he just say?” the man asked from behind me. “Did he say Pops is dead? Patricia, is Pops gone?”
Patricia tilted her head to look past me and pursed her lips. After staring at the man for a moment, she gave a slight nod. “Yes, Junior, it’s what he said.”
“No!” Junior’s voice was deep and angry. The surrounding trees seemed to shake at the thunderous sound of his outburst. “I’ll kill the bastard who hurt Pops!”
“We’re real sorry about this,” I said, addressing Patricia again. “We tried to find contact information for y’all last night, but no one knew how to get in touch with y’all.”
“Who was it?” Patricia asked, lowering her shotgun. “Who was this man who killed my father?”
I relaxed my grip on the AR-15. “We’re not positive. We’re still trying to identify the man who started trouble with him. When we find him, we’ll interrogate him and, if he did it, he’ll go to jail.”
“No!” Junior bellowed from behind me. I could hear him splashing through the water as he drew nearer. “What’s his name? I want his ass! I want the man who killed Pops! I want to know his name and I’m going to find him and I’m going to kill him.”
“Settle down, Junior.” Patricia held up a hand. “You heard him—they don’t know if this man did it. We can’t go into town and start attacking people. We have to let the law do its job.”
I was surprised by how calm and in control Patricia seemed. She tossed her shotgun over her shoulder and waded through the water, not at all worried about the many alligators that roamed beneath the surface. She strode past our boat and waved for us to follow.
“Please,” she said over her shoulder, “come inside so we can talk about what happened.”
I glanced at Melvin, who hesitated. Patricia and Junior were approaching the camp, wading effortlessly through the water. They were certainly in their element.
“Should we follow them?” Melvin asked. “What if it’s a trap?”
Although he whispered the question, Patricia heard him. “It’s no trap,” she said just as she reached the area underneath the camp. She stopped and turned toward us. She had removed the alligator head and hung it from a peg on a nearby post, but her face still looked spooky in the darker shadows of the structure. “We’re grateful y’all made the trip out here to carry the news about what happened to my father. I didn’t know anyone from town would be willing to do such a thing for us. I didn’t know anyone cared enough.”
A sheepish grin spread across Melvin’s face. He apologized and massaged the throttle, pushing us gently forward. He stayed a dozen feet behind Patricia and Junior. While I relaxed a bit, I still maintained a healthy level of awareness. Melvin was right to question whether or not this was a trap, and my head was on a swivel.
Patricia and Junior neared a wooden dock and began to slowly ascend from the murky water as though they were angels floating into the Heavens, but I quickly realized there was a flight of steps under the water that led to the dock. Another flight of steep steps extended upward from the dock and, because of the underside of the c
amp, it was hidden from our view. To the right on the dock was a large metal bar-b-cue pit, which I imagined was where they did most of their cooking.
As we drew deeper into the shadows under the camp, I noticed a network of boardwalks extending through the trees behind the camp. They were connected to the wooden dock and they disappeared deep into the swamps. I had no idea where they went or what was connected to them, but I figured it was probably best not to ask.
Patricia disappeared up the steep flight of steps, while Junior stood on the dock waiting for us.
Melvin pulled back on the throttle to slow our forward momentum just as we reached Junior, and the boat bumped to a stop against the wooden dock. I tossed the line to Junior and he grabbed it, tied it to a cleat on the dock. Once it was secure, he nodded for us to follow him.
We did and when we reached the landing at the top of the stairs the back door to the camp opened and the entire deck shook when a large man stepped out. He wore overalls that were made from countless raccoon pelts. His legs looked like tree trunks and his arms were the size of my thighs. With calloused hands, he pushed back his long and matted hair.
“Who is these men?” He was clearly not as educated as Patricia and Junior, but the lever-action rifle looked at home in his hands. The muzzle was leveled at my stomach. “Why they here?”
Patricia’s eyes softened as she approached the huge man. She put one hand on his shoulder and lowered the rifle barrel with the other. “It’s okay, Dickie. These men are our friends. They came to bring word about Pops.”
“Where Pops is at?” Dickie was looking past Patricia and staring directly into my eyes.
