Silent Trigger: A London Carter Novel (London Carter Mystery Series Book 3)

by BJ Bourg

“Damn, it looks like this thing is over fifty years old,” she said, comparing the image on the website to the bottom of the lighter.

  I thought I saw some lettering on the flip-top lid of the lighter, so I began trying to rub the mud off. It was slow going, thanks to the latex glove, but I finally removed enough of the crud to reveal a single word. I stepped toward the door and held it to the light so I could see it better. When I did, a chill reverberated up and down my spine. I must’ve cursed, because Dawn rushed over and asked what was going on.

  I tilted the lighter so she could see the name engraved into the side of the lid.

  “Good Lord, is that who I think it is?”

  I nodded. “It is.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Tuesday, October 9

  Dawn and I had worked late into the day on Monday. We’d spent most of the time gathering up the evidence we’d recovered, and then we drove to Payneville and secured everything into evidence lockers at the detective bureau. By the time we were done, it was much too late to head out on the water, so we’d arranged for Norm to meet us at the Seasville Boat Launch first thing this morning.

  It was almost seven when we drove up, and he was already in his boat waiting for us.

  “Please tell me there won’t be any dead bodies on this trip,” he said when we boarded the Boston Whaler and took our seats. “I’m not interested in getting killed so far away from retirement.”

  “This’ll be an easy one,” I assured him. “No blood, no fuss…just a simple notification.”

  “Somehow, I’m not convinced.” He fired up the twin engines and pulled away from the dock. Once we were heading down Bayou Magnolia, the cool wind began whipping Dawn’s hair around and some of it brushed against my face. She apologized, but I waved her off. She smelled good and I found my thoughts drifting from the task at hand to the date that was planned.

  I wanted it to be memorable and meant going to a special place. I’d heard of an awesome seafood restaurant northeast of Magnolia that was called Half Docked. It was supposed to be located at the end of a long road that cut through the swamps and it was situated on the side of a large lake. A friend of mine had gone with his wife and he told me they sat at an outdoor table overlooking the lake. He said his wife claimed it was the most romantic place he’d ever taken her. I knew next to nothing about being romantic, so I was open to any suggestions—

  “Did you hear me?” Dawn asked over the roar of the engines.

  I snapped back to the present and noticed we were already heading down Pelican Pass. “I’m sorry…what?”

  “How do you think they’ll react?”

  I shook my head. “It’s hard to say. I imagine they’ll want to hunt down the persons responsible and kill them one by one.”

  “Maybe they’ve already started.”

  “But how could they know about Wilton?”

  She only shrugged.

  I slowly stood as Norm guided the boat to the edge of Pelican Pass and brought it to a stop just as it made contact with the bank. I scanned the woods that surrounded us, knowing members of the Simoneaux clan were out there watching us. They’d probably heard us coming from the moment we turned onto Pelican Pass.

  “Wait here,” I said to Norm, and led Dawn out of the boat and across the Simoneaux property. The side door opened long before we reached the steps and an elderly man stood at the landing waiting for us to get closer. It was Frank Simoneaux and his face was just as sad as the last time I’d seen it. Of course, I couldn’t say I blame him, because he had suffered things no man should ever have to endure. And here I was about to make his day even worse.

  Frank wore the same black baseball cap he always wore and his long flannel shirt was already covered in sweat. I didn’t know how long he had been up that day, but I was sure he’d been working since early morning. I waved a greeting as we got to within a few yards of the steps.

  “Detectives, what can I do for y’all?” He didn’t smile, but I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t disappointed to see us. “It’s not often we get company from the law, so I’m not sure if I should be happy or worried. Quentin’s been out on the water all morning and I hope it’s not something to do with him—”

  “No, it has nothing to do with Quentin,” I said quickly. “It’s nothing to do with any of your sons. We just have to relay some information to you and your family.”

  Frank nodded and waved us up the steps. “Well, then, come on in and let’s talk.”

  I stepped back and allowed Dawn to go up the steps first. Once we were seated at the table inside the cramped kitchen, Frank called for his wife to join us. Just as she appeared at the hall entrance, the back door burst open and Orville rushed inside.

  “Dad, there’s a law boat out front—” He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Dawn and me sitting at the table. He opened his mouth to speak and then clamped it shut, as though confused. When he finally found his voice, he asked what we were doing there.

  I noticed fresh blood smeared on his hands and the front of his faded overalls. I instinctively glanced toward the back door, which led to their large wooden porch, and he sidestepped in an attempt to block my view. I nodded my understanding, catching the scent of fresh alligator carcass on the wind that blew in from the open back door.

  “I’m only here for one thing,” I said, nodding my head to reassure him. “Why don’t you close that door and get cleaned up so we can talk.”

  Still unsure, Orville backed toward the door and kicked it shut with his boot. He then spun around and hurried toward the back of the house. He returned minutes later wearing a set of overalls that were just a little cleaner than the last ones—at least the blood stains on this set were not fresh. He pulled up an old wooden stool and sat with his back against the wall. He glanced from his dad to his mom and then asked me why we were there.

  “We’re here to talk about your grandfather,” I began slowly. “You told me he disappeared without a trace in the swamps.”

  Orville leaned forward a bit. “That’s right. He left one morning and was never seen or heard from again.”

  “Did you find him? Is he okay?” Frank asked. I detected a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “My mom always suspected he was sitting on a beach somewhere far away with a bunch of island women falling at his feet.”

  I frowned and reached into a file folder to remove a stack of pictures we had printed up for this meeting. The first one was of the clothes Doctor Fitch had removed from the remains of Father Bones. I slid it across the table. “Do you recognize these clothes?”

  Frank reached in his shirt pocket and removed a pair of broken reading glasses from inside. He set them on his nose and peered through the glass. Although they were crooked, they seemed to work. “I don’t know. It’s hard to remember that far back.” Frank handed the picture to Orville. “You were so young that I doubt you’d remember what he was wearing that day.”

  Orville nodded his agreement and shook his head when it was his turn to look at the picture. “They’re too messed up to really tell what they looked like.”

  Frank scowled. “They do look messed up. Where’d y’all get these?”

  “Look, we don’t know if these clothes came off of your father,” I explained slowly. “We’re just trying to show you some items to see if you recognize them. It doesn’t mean the man was your dad.”

  “What man?” Frank asked.

  “The man who was wearing these clothes.”

  “Do you have a picture of him?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to recognize him. He’s been dead and buried for many years.”

  “Buried?” Frank’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you dig this man out of the grave?”

  “Something like that.”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Then it can’t be my dad, because we never buried him.”

  I slid the next picture toward him, which depicted the cigarettes and eye glasses from the autopsy. “Please, j
ust look at these pictures for me and tell me if you recognize anything.”

  He sighed and took the photos I handed him, shaking his head with each one. But when I handed him the photograph of the Zippo lighter as we’d first found it, he held it close to his face. “My dad had a lighter like this one, but his name was cut into it. This one’s too dirty to see a name. Do you have a better picture?”

  I pulled out the photograph of the lighter all cleaned up and slowly slid it across the table, studying his expression closely. When he saw the name, Theodore Simoneaux, his tanned face grew pale. Tears welled up in his eyes and slid down his weathered face.

  “We think this is linked to the man we found in the grave,” I explained. “We’ll need some reference DNA samples from you to verify it’s your father, but everything points to it being him—”

  “What do you mean?” Orville asked. “What’s in the picture?” When Frank didn’t answer, Orville snatched the picture out of his dad’s hands and studied it. His eyes widened and his chin began to tremble. “No! This was my grandpa’s lighter. He always told me it would be mine when he died. He would never lose this!”

  CHAPTER 40

  After a long moment of silent tears, Frank Simoneaux nodded his head and slid the photograph back toward me. “This…this is my dad’s lighter. Where’d you get it?” he asked. “Was this on that man in the grave?”

  I shook my head. “Although we think it came from the man, we found it in an abandoned lumberyard in Lower Seasville.” I went on to explain how Cade Baryon had led us to the gravesite of the old man, and how we’d searched the lumberyard and located the lighter and keys and other items. I left out the details regarding the brutal way in which he had been killed. When I was done explaining how we’d come to find the lighter, I leaned across the table and searched his eyes. “Mr. Simoneaux, can you think of any reason why your dad would be in that old lumberyard?”

  “I’m not sure about a lumberyard, but I do know he would come home from time to time with a lot of extra wood. He never said where he got it and we never asked. Coming up, he taught us not to ask questions—just to be thankful for what we had.”

  “How often would he make these trips?”

  Frank shrugged. “We never knew when he was making a run for wood or when he was making a run for food. He’d go out into the swamps every day. Some days he came back with deer, some days it was alligator, some days it was wood. Hell, he even came home with toys for the boys one day. We never asked where he got it and he never said.”

  I settled back in my chair and studied the photograph in front of me, hoping it would reveal something hidden—something we hadn’t thought about before.

  “Mr. Simoneaux, did your dad have trouble with anyone?” Dawn asked. “Did you guys ever suspect foul play?”

  “He got along with everybody,” Frank said.

  “Wait a minute,” Orville interjected. “Why are you asking about trouble and foul play? Did someone hurt him?”

  I nodded. “I’m afraid so. It looks like he was beaten to death.”

  Frank gasped and clutched at his chest.

  “Dad!” Orville sprang to his feet and rushed to Frank’s side. “Are you okay?”

  Frank reached out with his hands and pulled Orville into a bear hug. The man cried for several long minutes. I wasn’t positive, but it appeared Orville was crying, too. They both seemed sincere, but I had to explore the possibility that they’d already known Theodore had been murdered.

  When Frank and Orville finally backed away from each other, I asked Orville if I could have a word with his dad.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Orville jutted his chin out in defiance.

  I stood slowly to my feet and walked toward him. I didn’t stop until our faces were inches apart. Speaking so only he could hear, I said, “Don’t make me walk outside and find that illegal alligator you’ve been dressing.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut. Reluctantly, he turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “I’ll be in my room if you need me, Dad.”

  “I’ll have a word with him.” Dawn stood and followed Orville to his room.

  When they were gone, I returned to my seat. “Mr. Simoneaux, I know this is difficult, but I have to ask. Were you aware that your dad had been killed?”

  He shook his head. “We knew he had disappeared, but we thought he’d turn up some day. I can’t even believe someone would hurt him.”

  “I checked our database and there’s no record of his disappearance. Why didn’t you or your mom report him missing?”

  “We don’t involve the law in any of our business.” He let out a long, sad sigh. “It was how my dad raised me, so we knew he wouldn’t want us involving the law when he disappeared. I guess we should’ve made a report.”

  “How do you think he got to Lower Seasville from here?”

  “He took his boat. It was a fifteen-foot wooden skiff. He built it himself. We noticed it missing two days after he didn’t come back home.” He shook his head. “We never found him, we never found the boat, and we looked everywhere.”

  I mulled over what he said and then asked if he knew Wilton Michot.

  “Never heard of him. Is he the man that killed my dad?”

  “We have some evidence suggesting it was him, but we’re not sure yet.”

  “Are you going to arrest him when you get your evidence?”

  “No.” I slowly shook my head. “We won’t be arresting him. He’s dead.”

  Frank’s face was stone. “Good, that’s even better.”

  My eyes narrowed just a little. “Do you mind telling me where you were last Monday?”

  “What time?”

  “Late at night and into early Tuesday morning.”

  Frank grunted again. “That’s easy. I was in bed sleeping.”

  “What about Orville?”

  “He was home, too.”

  I turned to his wife, who had been sitting silently, taking it all in. “Can you verify that?”

  She only nodded.

  I asked a few more questions and Frank answered every one of them. I didn’t get the impression he had anything to do with Wilton’s murder. Just as I was wrapping up my questions, Dawn appeared from the hallway and gave me a nod.

  “I’m done if you are,” she said.

  I gave Frank the number to the coroner’s office, so they could make the necessary burial arrangements. After thanking him for his time and apologizing again for his loss, I followed Dawn outside and we waved at Norm that we were ready to leave. On the ride back to the Seasville Boat Launch, Dawn and I exchanged notes, but neither of us thought Frank or Orville had anything to do with Wilton’s murder.

  “At least they can get some closure now,” I said.

  We sat beside each other and didn’t say much for the rest of the ride. Once we were back in my truck and heading toward the Seasville Substation, I told Dawn we needed to find out the identities of the two boys Cade had mentioned. “We need to start by finding out who Wilton was hanging out with back then.”

  “That was a long time ago, London. Who on earth would remember his friends from thirty years ago? Hell, even if he were alive he might not remember.”

  “Let’s start with his wife and see if she knows,” I suggested. “If she doesn’t, maybe she can tell us where he went to school or we can check with his parents. Someone has to know something.”

  Dawn didn’t respond…she was already on the phone calling Katina. When Katina answered, Dawn began grilling her in an attempt to find out the names of his friends, relatives, and even enemies. It didn’t sound like she was getting anywhere until she asked about his schooling.

  “Oh, he didn’t go to school with you?” Dawn asked. “That’s right…Cade Baryon told us he went to a private school. Do you know which one it was?” She glanced at me and covered the phone. “She doesn’t remember the name, but she said he hated it.” She got back on the phone and pulled out an ink pen. “Okay, I’m rea
dy…right, got it. Are you sure she won’t mind me calling? Great!”

  “What’s going on?” I asked when she hung up.

  Dawn began dialing a number as she talked. “She doesn’t know the name of the school, but she gave me the number to Wilton’s sister who attended the same school. Katina said she might know who his friends were.”

  Dawn put the phone to her ear again and introduced herself. After speaking briefly with the woman, she asked if she knew the names of any of Wilton’s friends from thirty years earlier. “They would’ve most likely been school buddies,” Dawn said. “Oh, you don’t? What about the school…do you think they would have any records? They should? Awesome…what school was that again?”

  There was a pause and then Dawn said, “Holy shit!”

  “What is it?” I asked. “Is Holy Shit the name of the school?”

  Dawn lowered her phone and stared straight ahead. “He went to the private school at the Magnolia Life Church.”

  “Holy shit!”

  CHAPTER 41

  When we arrived at the Magnolia Life Church, we found a dozen cars parked in the lot. I pulled up near the front door to the office and we exited my truck. The steps leading up to the office were made of marble and the hand railings were solid brass. I grunted. “I didn’t realize church buildings were so rich.”

  “You have no idea.” Dawn’s voice was somber as she led the way up the steps and into the waiting room. I whistled as I looked around. There were highly detailed paintings of Jesus lining every wall. They almost looked 3-D. Above the reception glass, beside one of the pictures of Jesus, was a portrait of a man. There was a golden placard on the bottom framework that read, Father Nehemiah Wiltz.

  “Is he their pope or something?” I asked.

  “No, it’s the preacher who runs the church. He must’ve replaced Isaac Stewart.” Dawn smashed the brass bell that rested on the ledge in front of the frosted window. I couldn’t help but notice how close her right hand was to her pistol. Everyone in Magnolia had heard about the case she and Detective Brandon Berger worked seven or eight years ago that involved the church. Not only had it left a lasting impression on the two of them, but it also left a lasting impression on the community. Many locals thought those were scars that would never heal.