by BJ Bourg
I climbed into the driver’s seat and watched as Dawn stopped to take one last look toward Cynthia before climbing in herself. When she was belted into the seat beside me, she slapped the dash. “Take me away before I lose my shit and get another complaint filed against me.”
I drove off and sat silently as Dawn made some phone calls. After speaking briefly with someone from the district attorney’s office, she hung up the phone and sighed. “They’re not going to drop the charges.”
“Well, that’s good, right?”
“They said they’ll try the case even if she doesn’t cooperate, but they can’t make any guarantees.”
When we arrived at Olivier’s Dealership, Dawn turned to me and smiled. “I’m glad we’re working together again.”
I returned the smile. “That makes two of us.”
CHAPTER 11
Eugene Olivier was a short man—at least six inches south of five foot—and nearly as wide as he was tall. The crown of his head couldn’t have seen hair in forty years. The little bit of hair that was still there was dyed black and extended out to the sides like fiery wings, seemingly held in place by hairspray. He stuck out a pudgy hand and introduced himself as the owner of Olivier Dealership. His voice was raspy, as though he’d been smoking his whole life.
Dawn and I took turns shaking his hand, introducing ourselves as we did, and then asked if we could speak privately.
Several sales associates milled around—some of them speaking eagerly to customers and the others watching the front glass like buzzards waiting for a fresh kill—but none of them seemed disturbed by what had happened a week ago. It was business as usual and the murders could’ve been nothing more than a disturbance that had taken place in the parking lot.
Eugene led us toward the back of the building, down a long hallway, and into a simple office. “Go ahead and have a seat,” he invited, pointing to some chairs across from his desk. “I imagine you’re here about Wilton.”
I nodded. “How’d you know?”
“Katina Michot called to say Wilton wouldn’t be coming in today—or ever again.” He shook his head. “I’m really to going to miss him, as will our whole team. Wilton was the glue that held this place together. Everyone loved him and would do anything for him.”
“Did you see him yesterday?” I asked.
“No, we were closed.”
“Katina said he’s in here every day, whether the dealership is open or not.”
Eugene shrugged his wide shoulders. “I don’t doubt it, but I haven’t come in on weekends for years. I’ve learned to stay away and let the people I trust keep the wheels on the wagon rolling.”
I looked around the room. “Who around here would know if Wilton came in to work yesterday?”
“Evelyn Garcia was his secretary. She knows everything about him.”
Dawn and I looked at each other and said in unison, “We need to speak with her.”
“Wait here.” Eugene stood and waddled out the door. “I’ll get her.”
Evelyn, who was a little shorter and slightly heavier than Dawn, walked in wearing a red dress that zipped up in the front. Her hands were folded in front of her and a thick, leather planner was tucked under her left arm. She forced a smile and took Eugene’s seat. “I understand you want to speak with me about Mr. Wilton.”
“We need to know if he worked yesterday,” I said.
Evelyn placed the planner on the desk and flipped through the pages. As she did so, she said, “He texted me yesterday morning to say he was coming into the office to look over the sales from Saturday. I made a note of the time.” When she found the page for which she was searching, she nodded and placed her index finger on the entry. “It was a little before seven in the morning.”
“Did you hear from him anymore during the day?” I asked.
She nodded and slid her finger down the page of the planner. “He called around noon for me to put a meeting on his calendar for next week. And then much later, at eight o’clock, he sent a text message to let me know he was leaving the office and heading to Twisted Long Necks to get a drink.”
Twisted Long Necks was a saloon along the road to Jasper, which was a small town located on the eastern edge of Magnolia Parish. There had been rumors over the years that prostitutes worked out of the back rooms, but we’d never been able to establish if it was fact or fiction.
“Was that the last time you heard from him?” I asked.
“No.” Evelyn removed a sticky note from the top corner of the planner page and handed it to me. “One of his old friends had called earlier in the week to see if he would buy a secondhand car from him, so he called me to get his number.”
I glanced down at the phone number on the sticky note. “Is this the friend’s number?”
Evelyn nodded. “That same man has called many times asking to speak with Mr. Wilton about old cars.”
“Do you know his name?”
“The man never did say his name, and neither did Mr. Wilton,” Evelyn said. “I asked the man for his name the first time he called, which was years ago, but he just told me to tell Mr. Wilton it was his old friend from high school. After that, I recognized his voice and would know who he was, but he was always calling with a different number and Mr. Wilton couldn’t keep track of them.”
I handed Dawn the note and she stepped out into the hallway to make contact with the individual.
I turned back to Evelyn. “What time was this?”
“It was late. I didn’t look at the clock, but I was already in bed, and I usually go to bed at nine thirty.”
“Does he often call you that late at night?”
Evelyn smiled and nodded. “He called me at one in the morning once to ask about a gap insurance refund. Apparently, he ran into the customer at a barroom and he thought it was appropriate to call me and ask about it.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t mind at all. He has been good to me, so I overlook the small things.”
I was thoughtful, wondering how to broach the next topic. “Ma’am, do you know anything about the women in Wilton’s life?”
Her eyes dipped downward and she frowned. “I begged Mr. Wilton to stop hurting Mrs. Katina. He loved her so much, but he just could not help himself.”
“So, he talked to you about the women?”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Evelyn frowned. “I could just see it. Everyone could see it.”
“Did you know about Beth LeDoux?”
“I did.”
“What about the sexually transmitted disease?”
Evelyn looked past me toward the door, as though making sure it was closed. She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “There was talk that he passed something along to Beth and her husband found out about it. Well, her husband found out she was cheating, but he didn’t know with whom. He came in here and shot the wrong man. He was trying to get us to say who was sleeping with his wife, but no one would do it. He became angry and threatened to execute every man in the building until he was sure he had killed the right one.” She paused and I thought I saw a tear spill from her eye. When she casually brushed at her face with the palm of her hand, I knew I was correct. “He was about to do it—he was going to kill all of us—when one of the police officers shot him from outside.”
I frowned as more tears fell down her face. “It’s okay, ma’am.”
“No, it is not okay. It was so very sad what happened here, and we still have not healed from it. We were close like a family and to lose two family members in one day…”
I was silent for a minute or two, allowing her some time to grieve. When she looked up, I asked if she knew of anyone who might wish to harm Wilton.
“I believe it was the Lord who took him away.”
“The Lord?”
“A man’s life was taken because of a sin Mr. Wilton committed,” Evelyn explained. “So, I believe this is the Lord’s way of making it right.”
Not quite knowing how to respond to that theory, I simply n
odded. Considering we hadn’t ascertained a cause of death yet, I wasn’t about to argue the point with her.
The door suddenly opened behind me and I turned to see Dawn walk into the room. “Does the name Cade Baryon mean anything to you?” she asked Evelyn.
“I have never heard that name before.”
Dawn turned to me. “That’s the friend who called about selling the car. I reached out to him from the dealership phone—pretending to be a saleswoman—and I told him Wilton had passed away, but I found the information about his car on Wilton’s desk. He said the car is still available and I can come down and look at it if I want, but he won’t be around until tomorrow morning. He lives on Third Street in East Payneville, last trailer on the left.”
“Sounds good.”
Evelyn raised her hand to get our attention. “This man who calls himself Cade, is he Mr. Wilton’s friend from school?”
I looked at Dawn and she nodded. “I believe it is.”
Evelyn frowned. “Please tell him how sorry I am for his loss. He was always so polite when he called and I am sure he is in pain.”
We stood and I shook Evelyn’s hand. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be back in touch if we need anything.”
She smiled, but there was a troubled look on her face. “Many bad things have happened here lately. Should I be worried? Should we all be worried?”
“Not yet,” I said. “For all we know, Wilton could’ve died of a heart attack or some other natural cause.”
That didn’t seem to calm her, and I guessed she was still thinking it was some sort of curse.
I followed Dawn outside, where the sun was starting to dip toward the west, and we climbed into my truck. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed south to the Seasville Substation. I hadn’t gone a mile when Dawn got a phone call. When she hung up, her brown eyes narrowed.
“That was dispatch,” she said. “I got them to run Cade’s name for hits and history…he’s got felony warrants.”
“For what?”
“Attempted manslaughter and resisting arrest. He failed to appear for his court date.” She shook her head. “If he thinks we’re cops, there could be trouble.”
I knew she was right.
“Can you text the exact address and directions to me?” I asked. “I’ll forward it to Jerry and Ray and get them to scout the area tonight. They can provide over-watch protection when we go in tomorrow.”
Dawn nodded and her thumbs flew across the screen of her phone. Within seconds, my phone chirped to indicate I’d received the message. I then asked about an undercover vehicle for us. “If we drive up in my truck or your car, he’ll know we’re cops right away.”
“Already covered,” she said. “I called the motor pool and they have a jacked up Tahoe with dealer plates waiting for us. We’ll pick it up on the way to the target location.”
We rode in silence for a few minutes, and it was then that I noticed how much my stomach was grumbling. Preferring not to eat alone if I could spend a little more time with Dawn, I asked if she wanted to grab a bite before I dropped her off at the substation.
“That sounds great,” she said. “I’ve been starving since we left the morgue.”
CHAPTER 12
It was late in the afternoon when we walked into Bayouside Burgers, a locally-owned hamburger joint just south of the Seasville Substation. I led the way to a far corner and took the seat with my back to the wall and facing the entrance.
“What if I wanted to sit with my back to the wall?” Dawn asked.
I hesitated, studying her face. I always sat with my back to the wall and facing the entrance, or I didn’t sit. I’d walked out of restaurants many times because the corner table was already taken. I slowly stood to my feet. “If you want the seat, I’ll move—”
Dawn socked me playfully on the shoulder and laughed. “I’m messing with you.”
I laughed and sat back down, relieved. The waitress came over within seconds and took our drink order. As I looked over the menu, which had a dozen different kinds of hamburgers, I stole an occasional glance at Dawn. The light in the restaurant was dim, but the sun streamed through the window of the front door and lit up her eyes. I’d never seen a more beautiful woman, but her beauty was secondary to her strength of character.
I’d always loved dating strong women, because they were independent and didn’t require much attention. Many of them were sexually adventurous, which was fun and exciting, but I’d learned that their wild streak wasn’t conducive to a monogamous relationship. It had always been fine by me, because I’d never met a woman who could settle me down, and I was usually ready to move on long before they were.
Dawn was different. She was quietly confident and career-driven. While she didn’t seem to mind the attention most men gave her, she didn’t entertain it. If she did have a wild streak, it was reserved for the special man in her life—whoever that lucky bastard might be.
The waitress returned with our drinks and placed them on napkins. After she’d taken our order and walked away, Dawn grabbed the salt shaker and lifted her drink. I watched in amusement as she salted the napkin before returning her drink to it.
“Is it too bland for you?” I asked. “Personally, I eat my napkins with ketchup.”
She smiled. “The salt keeps the glass from sticking to it.”
“Really?”
“It’s an old trick I learned when I was bartending back home.”
“You were a bartender?”
“Yep…all through college.” Dawn tilted her glass and stared into it, as though looking back in time. “It helped pay my room and board, and it prepared me for police work.”
“How so?”
“You know how college kids can get. I was breaking up fights every other night.”
“Did the place have bouncers?”
“I was quicker to the action than they were.” Dawn leaned across the table and titled her face upward, pointing to a scar on her chin. “See that?”
Her skin looked so smooth it could’ve been silk. I wanted to trace my finger across the scar, but didn’t. Instead, I just nodded.
“That beer bottle was meant for a member of the opposing football team. This outsider thought it would be cool to come into our bar and dance with some of the local girls after his team had just stomped a mud hole into our guys on the field.”
“Damn! What did you do?”
“What any self-respecting lady would do…I grabbed a bigger bottle and smashed it across the bastard’s teeth.”
“You hit the player from the other team with a bottle?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“No, silly…the local bastard who threw the bottle.”
We talked for about fifteen minutes longer and our food finally appeared. As we ate, we continued talking about our past lives. I told her what I remembered about my siblings and parents before they died, and she told me what life was like growing up in the mountains of Arkansas.
“How often do you go back home to visit?” I asked.
“I haven’t been back in years.” She frowned. “I just get so busy, you know?”
I didn’t buy her explanation, but I nodded anyway. While I could tell there was something she wasn’t saying, I didn’t feel it was my place to pry.
When we were done eating, I insisted on paying the bill, and then we walked out into the cool evening air. It was dark and mosquitoes were swarming around the lights overhead, but they weren’t bothering us much. A loud grunt sounded from the bayou behind the restaurant and we both looked at each other. It sounded like a big alligator.
“Want to walk out back and see it?” Dawn asked.
I had nowhere pressing to be, so I nodded and followed her along the wrap-around porch to the back of the restaurant. There were wooden benches lined up in front of the railing, so we sat down and searched for the gator. The moonlight sparkled against the gentle ripples in the water and the movement made it harder to find the head of the alligator, but Dawn finally pointed it ou
t.
“Damn, it’s big,” I said.
She nodded, and rested her elbows against the railing. “Have you ever been married or engaged?”
The question took me off guard, but I answered immediately. “No to both of them.” I sat there for a few seconds wondering why she’d asked it. Not sure what else to say, I asked if she’d ever been married or engaged.
“No,” she said softly. “I never trusted myself enough.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked directly in my eyes. I felt as though she could see down to my very soul.
“My dad used to beat the shit out of my mom.” She turned away and stared out over the bayou. “Hell, for all I know, he could be beating her as we sit here talking.”
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s why I dropped out of college and moved away.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dawn sighed. “He was arrested a half dozen times for hitting her, but she’d always bail him out of jail and drop the charges afterward. Every damn time.”
I suddenly began to understand why she’d felt the way she had about Cynthia Alvey.
“My little brother, Darby, called me crying one night, saying he thought my dad was going to kill my mom.” Dawn shook her head. “I was so pissed that I left the bar and hauled ass home, hell-bent and determined to put an end to it once and for all. When I came through the door, my mom was sitting on the sofa crying and bleeding. Her face was a mess and her arm looked broken. I searched the house and found my dad snoring in their bed, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. I stood there watching him for a few minutes, trying as hard as I could to come up with just one reason why I shouldn’t…”
Dawn’s voice trailed off and she continued staring out at the water. When she didn’t continue on her own, I asked, “Shouldn’t what?”
