by BJ Bourg
“So, he planted a bag of Zach’s drugs on Denny, knowing we would run it for prints and it would lead us to Zach. He then plants the murder weapon on Zach, knowing we would find it when we arrested Zach.”
“I hate to believe this about my lifelong friend, London.” I could hear Murray take a deep breath and exhale. “I keep thinking there’s got to be another explanation.”
“If there is, I’ll find it. If not, Buster’s got problems.”
After we were done talking, I returned to the office and sat across from Zach. Over the course of the next hour and a half, I grilled him on his actions and whereabouts on the day Denny was killed. It didn’t matter how many times I asked the questions or from what angle I attacked him, his responses were always consistent.
“I’m telling you the truth, Mr. London,” said Zach. “I didn’t kill that Denny kid.”
“Then how did the gun get in your possession?” I asked.
He shook his tired head. “I really don’t know.”
Andrew’s primary assignment at the sheriff’s office was in patrol, but he’d been there a while and knew his way around suspects. I turned to him and asked if he had any questions. He frowned and shook his head, giving me a look that indicated he believed Zach’s story.
I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, studied Zach closely. “If you didn’t kill Denny, then that means someone planted the murder weapon in your car.”
Zach threw his arms up. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
“Who do you think did it?”
“I’ve got no idea. Honest. No one drives my car except me”—he turned and scowled in Andrew’s direction—“and him, but you had already found the gun by then.”
“Denny was killed sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning,” I said. “Have you had contact with anyone since then?”
“Only my family.”
“Come on, you haven’t had any interaction with anyone since then?”
“Not really.”
“What do you mean by not really? Did you or didn’t you?”
“I mean, I’ve seen some friends here and there, like at the store or the gas station, but I don’t remember when and they didn’t get in my car. I usually pull up next to them and stay sitting in my car while we talk.”
As I mulled it over, an idea came to me. “Did you have any interactions with law enforcement?”
“You mean, like getting pulled over for speeding or something?”
“No, I mean any kind of interaction.”
Zach was thoughtful. After several long seconds, he frowned. “I did run into Buster one night at the Food-N-Stuff parking lot in Gracetown. He actually bought me a drink.”
My pulse quickened and I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk. “What night was this?”
“It was the night before you arrested me—whatever that was.”
“That was Sunday night. What time did you meet him and what happened between y’all?”
“It was close to midnight.” Zach shrugged. “Nothing much happened. I stopped for gas and after I filled up I went inside to get a drink and use the bathroom. I was already inside and had used the bathroom when he walked in. He saw me by the cooler and came over to see how I was doing. He told me the department was trying to put the screws to him for shooting Lance Jarrie, and he asked if I’d be willing to testify on his behalf, let the court know that Lance always slept with a forty-four magnum.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“Shit, I told him I’d do anything I could to help him. He got me out of trouble more than once, so I feel like I owe him.”
“What happened next?”
“Nothing much. He followed me to the counter and paid for my drink and then I left.”
I was about to ask another question when my cell phone rang. It was Jerry, so I hurried into the hallway and answered. “What do you have for me?”
“Rachael went to the NOPD crime lab.”
“What?” I rubbed my face. “Do you know why?”
“No. I got there just as she was leaving. She was carrying a white envelope and she seemed upset about something.”
“Did you go inside to find out what she was doing?”
“No,” he said. “I wanted to keep eyes on her.”
“Where is she now?”
“We’re heading toward Magnolia—about ten minutes from Jasper. She pulled over on the side of the road twice, but I can’t figure out what she was doing. At first I thought she made me, but then she kept going, so I don’t think so.”
I asked him to let me know where she went and then ended the call. I leaned against the wall and shook my head. What in hell’s name are you up to, Rachael?
CHAPTER 45
Route Twenty-Three, two miles east of Jasper, LA
Rachael was numb as she entered Magnolia Parish. Her chest ached and her head pounded. Since leaving the crime lab, she had stopped twice to vomit on the side of the road, and she felt the need to stop again. Fighting back the bile that threatened to rise to her throat, she snatched up her cell phone. With a hand that trembled, she scrolled through her contacts until she found her boyfriend’s number. She hesitated, trying to rehearse what she would say, but failing miserably. She finally just grunted and hit the call button with her thumb.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” he asked cheerfully when he answered.
“We need to talk.” She tried to sound brave, but she felt her chin trembling and her voice cracked.
“Wow, it sounds serious. What’s this about?”
Not knowing how to ease into it, she just came right out and asked the question that had been plaguing her since learning the spent shell casing she gave Daniel matched the spent casings she and London had recovered from the abandoned sugar mill; “Did you use my dad’s old rifle to shoot Garland Robichaux?”
“Are you for real?” He let out a guttural laugh that sounded forced. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”
“Really? Then how do you explain the ballistics report that confirms he was killed with my dad’s rifle?” She started to feel a surge of courage flow through her. “It doesn’t sound so crazy anymore, does it?”
“Come on, Rachael, that’s absurd. Why would I want to kill this Garland fellow? I’d never even heard of him before the shooting.”
“That’s because you were trying to kill Zach Bailey, but you missed because your dumb ass doesn’t know anything about bullet drop.”
“Why would I want to kill Zach? He’s never done anything bad to me.”
“I’m not positive, but I’m betting it had something to do with Denny Menard.”
He let out the fake laugh again. “First, I killed Garland but I wanted to kill Zach, and now you’ve got me killing Denny. What next? I’m responsible for the JFK assassination?”
“You know what’s very telling?” Rachael asked.
“What’s that?”
“I just told you my dad’s rifle killed Garland Robichaux, but you never once asked if I did it. Instead, you keep trying to convince me that you didn’t do it.”
“That’s because I didn’t.”
“You’re the only other person with a key to my house, which means you’re the only other person with access to my rifle.”
“Well, how do I know you didn’t do it?”
“It’s too late for that game now.” Rachael glanced in her rearview mirror, noticing a truck that should’ve passed her the last time she stopped to vomit, but there it was, about four cars behind her. Am I being followed?
“Where are you, honey?” her boyfriend asked, his voice pleading. “Why don’t you meet me somewhere so we can talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said idly, drifting toward the centerline to try and get a glimpse of the driver of the truck. It was no use, as he drifted toward the shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait, don’t hang up…I love you.”
&nbs
p; It was Rachael’s turn to laugh. “I’ll be seeing you,” she said, and then swiped her thumb across the screen to end the call. Without warning, she jerked her steering wheel to the right and her car swerved violently onto the shoulder of the road, causing the car behind her to slam its brakes and swerve away from her. The other cars braked and swerved, whisking by her location. The truck could no longer hide and the driver smashed the brakes as he blew by her. He pulled to the shoulder of the road and stepped out. It was Jerry Allemand and he didn’t look amused.
Rachael slipped from the driver’s seat and met him on the shoulder of the road, halfway between the two vehicles. Jerry’s hand was inches from his pistol and he demanded to know what she had been doing at the crime lab.
“Getting the proof we need to lock up a murderer,” she said calmly. “And you’re not going to like who it is.”
CHAPTER 46
Seasville Substation
“It’s going to be my DNA on the casings, because I loaded the rifle,” Rachael told me once we were seated in the evidence processing room at the Seasville Substation. She had told me about the lab results on the spent casings and the conversation she’d had with her boyfriend. “But he was the only other person with access to my rifle, so he’s definitely the one who killed Garland.”
“How’d you figure it was your dad’s rifle?” I asked.
“I clean every inch of that old thing every time I shoot it,” she explained. “When you found it dirty yesterday, I knew something was wrong. And then when we found out a Caucasian female had handled the spent casings, I got sick to my stomach. I mean, how many other Caucasian females shoot sniper rifles? I knew I didn’t kill Garland, so—if the casings matched—that meant he did it with a rifle I loaded. Since the sniper rifle you assigned to me never left my possession, it had to be my dad’s old gun.”
I pondered this new information, but couldn’t get past all the incriminating evidence against Buster. Although I wondered what motive he might have to kill his own son, he was the only common denominator between all of the moving parts.
I turned to the computer and pulled up the property transfer sheet for his Beretta, began studying it again. “Wait a minute…”
“What is it?” Rachael asked, leaning over my shoulder to see what I was viewing.
Ignoring her, I spun away from the monitor and hurried into Dawn’s office, where Andrew and Jerry were watching over Zach. I grabbed my file folder and returned to the processing room, dug through it until I found the evidence forms Buster had filled out during Zach’s arrests. I compared all of the forms and then whistled. “You’re on to something, Rachael.”
“Do we have enough evidence now?”
“Not quite, but…”
“But what?”
“Follow me.” I led the way to Dawn’s office and stood over Zach. “When Buster met up with you at the Food-N-Stuff, was he alone?”
Zach scrunched his face and tilted his head sideways. “Come to think of it, I did see someone else in the car with him when he drove away.”
“Could you make out who it was?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“Who was it?”
A chill reverberated up and down my spine when he told me who was in the car with Buster. I turned to Rachael and blurted, “You’ve been sleeping with a murderer.”
Without missing a beat, she said, “And you know exactly what that feels like.”
Appreciating her wit and candor, I grinned and led the way back to the processing room, where I called the sheriff to let him know what we were facing. He was not pleased with the information, but he gave me the green light to do whatever I felt was necessary to bring the killer to justice.
“I’m out of town, but I’m heading home now,” he said. “Keep me informed every step of the way. This will cause a media firestorm and I need all the facts in front of me before I make any statements.”
I then called Ray and asked him to meet with Jerry, Andrew, Rachael, and me at the detective bureau in Payneville so we could lay out a plan of action. It would be late afternoon before we could all gather there, so we grabbed some pizzas and drinks and brought them along to feed everyone while we met.
Rachael was riding with me and we were almost at the detective bureau when her phone rang. “It’s him,” she said, her voice betraying the nervousness she felt.
“Tell him you’ve reconsidered your position,” I said. “Tell him the evidence against Buster is so convincing, it couldn’t have been anyone other than him.”
She nodded and picked up the phone. I hoped it would buy us the time and advantage we needed. If not, someone could get killed before he was taken into custody.
CHAPTER 47
Mathport, LA
The sun had gone down two hours ago and there had still been no movement from inside the building. Rachael’s boyfriend’s car was still parked outside, but he wouldn’t answer anymore when Rachael called. I fingered the key I’d obtained to access the side door.
“I think I’m going inside,” I whispered to Rachael, who crouched beside me at the end of the parking lot. We had gone dark and were only using hand signals and verbal communication when close enough to do so. She nodded and turned to give Andrew the signal that I was going in. Andrew relayed the signal to Jerry and Ray.
“Do you want me to come along?” Rachael asked.
“No, I’m taking Andrew. You’re too close to this.”
I heard her sigh audibly and knew this was hard for her. But as difficult as it had been, she had turned in the man she loved for the sake of justice. The more I learned about her, the more it validated my selection of her as a sniper.
When Rachael and Andrew had traded places, he and I began slinking across the parking lot—staying in the shadows and moving like ghosts—until we made it to the side door of the building. While Andrew covered me, I pulled a small bottle of oil from my pants pocket and squirted a healthy dose on each of the hinges. I then carefully and quietly manipulated the lock and eased the door open.
Once the opening was large enough to squeeze through, I nodded for Andrew to take the door and I made my way into the foyer. Pistol in hand, I waited there while Andrew entered and allowed the door to close behind him. We then made our way down the hallway and stopped outside the door to Rachael’s boyfriend’s office. I nodded for Andrew to cover me and I slowly stood and backed away from the door. In one swift motion, I kicked the door open and dropped to a knee to one side of the door, peering into the office.
When the door burst open, Murray Fuchet spun around in his chair and pulled a pistol up to his head, screaming at the top of his lungs that he was going to kill himself if I stepped any closer. As much as I wanted him to do it, I needed answers.
“Stay back,” I said to Andrew and settled in beside the door. “It’s okay, Murray…we’re just here to talk.”
“That’s bullshit, London.” Murray’s finger whitened around the trigger. “I’ve already talked to Rachael. I know what’s going on.”
“I’m serious…we’re just here to talk.” I lowered my pistol slowly and shoved it in my holster. I lifted my hands and stepped into full view to make him feel less threatened. I knew it was a gamble and a huge risk. Murray was highly skilled at close-quarter battle and if he decided to turn his pistol on me, I would be at a grave disadvantage. Although I was fast with a gun, action is quicker than reaction and it’s extremely hard trying to play catch-up against a skilled gun fighter.
“Look, I know how desperate everything seems right now,” I said slowly, “but we can work through this…you and me. Just talk to me and we’ll figure this out together.”
“Don’t try that negotiations bullshit with me, London. You forget who you’re dealing with.”
I grunted. “I’m no negotiator and you know it. To be clear and to be perfectly honest, I’d love it just fine if you pulled the trigger right now. You’d save the parish a lot of time and resources and you’d get what’s coming to you.”
I hesitated, watched his eyes narrow a bit. “But that would be selfish of me. So, for Uma’s sake, at least tell me why her son had to die. Explain what happened so she can get some closure. Please…it’s the least you can do for her, considering you ripped her world apart and took away the one thing that gave her life real meaning.”
Murray’s face softened and I detected a hint of a tear forming at the corner of his left eye. “I didn’t know he was Uma’s kid—you’ve got to let her know that.”
“I believe you.” Nodding solemnly, I asked him what happened.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut. When he didn’t say a word, I decided to press on.
“Everyone already knows what you did, and you’re going to kill yourself anyway,” I reasoned. “So, why not do a little good before you punch out for the last time, like a real warrior?”
After letting out a long sigh, he nodded and the muzzle of the pistol strayed from his temple just a bit. “It wasn’t supposed to go down…um…killing Denny was an accident.”
I wanted to point out that there was nothing accidental about brutally shooting someone in the eyeball while he was lying on the ground, but I refrained. “How so?”
“I was driving through Gracetown along Highway Three when I saw this kid riding a bicycle on the side of the highway. It was too late for someone his age to be out there, so I stopped to see what he was up to.” Murray paused and shook his head. “I should’ve just kept going.”
“What time was it?”
“A little after two in the morning.”
I noticed that Murray’s finger had relaxed on the trigger. “I thought you had training that day?” I asked. “Don’t y’all let out around eight or nine in the evening?”
“We do, but a few of us stopped to have some drinks.” He sighed. “I’ve always preached you should never mix alcohol and firearms, but I didn’t even listen to my own advice.”
