by Jim Riley
"Anything else?"
"Back to my conversation with Ashton, he told me the deaths of Howard, Sam, and Dale were very fortunate. I asked him if he had anything to do with those. He asked me 'Does it matter?'. The way he said it made me feel creepy."
"Why?" Niki asked.
"Because of the next thing he said. He told me now that all his problems were gone, he didn't mind being in charge of Tiger Eye. He said that he was looking forward to it."
"That's understandable," Dalton said. "Most of the headaches are history. The office should have a lot less complaints from clients and fewer problems with the regulators."
"But then he asked me to marry him," Sheila said.
"He's already married," Niki exclaimed. "Unless you know something that's not public."
"I said the same thing. He told me not to sweat the minor details. He said that if I agreed to marry him, then his marriage would take care of itself."
"What did he mean by that?" Dalton asked.
"I asked him." Sheila wiped more tears from her eyes. "He wouldn't explain any further. He just repeated he needed an answer from me before he could take care of his marriage."
"Does that mean he would get a divorce or did it mean something else?" Niki asked.
Sheila's shrugged.
"I can only tell you the way I took it. To me, if I agree to marry Ashton, then he will eliminate his wife. I mean, kill her."
Niki closed her eyes and massaged her temples.
"Now I understand why you wanted to talk to us."
Sheila nodded. "I don't want to be the cause of anyone's death, including his wife. I wouldn't marry him if something happened to her now, anyway."
"If he is willing to kill his wife, do you think he might have killed Scott to get to you?" Niki asked.
"I didn't believe it before, but now I do. He could buy my shares at market value, whatever that is. So he's not just trying to get control of the business. He wants me, and he couldn't get me with Scott in the picture."
"Did you give him an answer?" Dalton asked.
"I told him I needed time to think about it. I really wanted to talk to Hugh. That was my first thought. Hugh told me I should call you."
"Are you planning to come here in the morning?"
"I've been coming in every day. I wanted to see how things worked firsthand." Sheila paused. "Really, I wanted to see what was so special about this place that would make Scott ignore me."
Niki glanced at Dalton.
"We need to talk to Ashton. It might be best if you weren't here when we talked to him."
Monday Morning
Denham Springs
Dalton and Niki arrived at Yellow Jacket Fire & Safety at 7:30. The lights were still off, but the old van was parked in front of the office. Dalton grabbed the door to get out of the SUV, but she stopped him.
"You stay here. This grimy little sleazeball is all mine," she said.
"Not on your life," he countered. "He dumped me in the swamp at the same time he left you there. I'm sure he meant for me to die right beside you."
"Why didn't you call the police to come by and pick Phelps up? Why are you here instead of them?"
"I want to get my hands on him. I want to teach him a lesson that he will not soon forget."
"And what will that do to your blossoming career in the United States Senate?" Niki remained seated.
"I don't care about that. I want a piece of him."
"And that's exactly why you can't go in there. What do you think will be in the headlines of the evening newspapers, and the lead story of every television station in Louisiana? The people might be conservative, but that doesn't mean that the media are. They would crucify you."
Dalton paused with his hand on the door. "But it isn't fair. Just because I'm in the public eye, it shouldn't mean I can't stand up for myself."
"That's the way you and I see it, but the first reporter on the scene will tell a much different story, one about an out–of–control senator assaulting one have his loyal constituents."
“That's not even close to the truth,” he protested.
"It's not?" Niki laughed. "What do you plan on doing to Mr. Phelps when he answers that door?"
"Not much," Dalton grinned. "I thought that beating him to within an inch of his life would just about do it. That's all."
"Yeah—I think they call that assault in the media."
"But what if you can’t handle him? What if he surprises you?"
"That wimp. I could take him with both hands and one foot tied behind my back. I let him surprise me once. I don't plan on letting him do that again."
"We'll play it your way," Dalton sighed. "Even though I still think I should be included. As much as I hate to admit it, what you” re saying makes sense."
He pulled the SUV door shut.
"Do you mind putting that in writing in case something bad happens in there? I want the world to hear what you said," she laughed.
"Funny. I’m coming in there if you don't drag his sorry butt out of there quick."
"I promise. If I need help, I'll holler real loud. Then you need to call the police. The story in the paper won't change much because of me."
"I'll call them on my way to the door. For his sake, I hope they get here in a hurry."
She reached over the middle console and kissed him. Then she left the vehicle and strode to the door. There was no eye-hole in the door. She rapped on it with vigor.
"I ain’t open yet." Phelps voice rose from inside.
"I've got an emergency. I need an extinguisher right now. I'll pay whatever you want for it," she said.
"You got a fire?"
"No. I found out the fire marshal is sending someone out to inspect my store this morning. If I don't have an extinguisher, they’ll shut me down and fine me a bunch of money."
“Hold on,” Phelps yelled. “I'll be there in a minute. But I‘ ve got to charge you with an emergency call because this is before my normal hours.”
"I don't care. I need an extinguisher. I’ll pay cash if you hurry."
"Okay, keep your shirt on."
Niki turned and flashed a thumbs up to Dalton waiting in the SUV. She waited by the front door, fidgeting in anticipation until she heard him coming.
The door cracked open.
"I wish you would have called me earlier. It would have saved—"
Phelps did not finish the sentence. The door crashed into him, knocking the little man to the floor, shock showing in his eyes. Niki was on top of him before he could move.
"You?" Disbelief plain in his voice.
"Yep. It's me. You should've shot me when you had the chance. Now it's too late."
The dirty man wore the same clothes that he had on every time Niki had seen him. They reeked of sweat and body odor, a body that was not accustomed to a bath. He was not wearing shoes, apparently too much trouble to put on when he thought he could quickly gouge a desperate customer.
Niki drove a forearm to Phelps's head. To her surprise, it had little effect on him. He twisted and slapped her with a flat palm on the right ear. The blow did little real damage, but was so unexpected, it disrupted her balance.
Phelps rolled out from under her, kicking her in the side before getting on his feet.
"Come on, you little bitch. I don't know how you got out of the swamp, but you ain't getting out of here alive." The little man snarled.
"You're not man enough. You never were, and you aren't now."
"Just watch me," Phelps said as he swung the haymaker that began at his waist and was aimed at Niki's temple.
The blow was so slowly developing that the young investigator chuckled as she easily dodged it.
Phelps roared like a wounded lion. Unfortunately for him, his ability to fight was more suitable for a newborn kitten. He tried to kick Niki in her midsection.
Niki grabbed his foot and flipped him over backwards. He banged his head on the dirty floor, momentarily stunning him. Niki considered ending the fight
while he was down and befuddled, but then let him up.
He rose on unsteady legs, letting out a stream of curse words.
"Come on, David. You'll have to speak a lot plainer if we” re going to have a meaningful conversation. I'm afraid that cursing at each other won't solve this."
"You just keep that smart mouth of yours closed or I'm gonna shut it up for you," he shot back.
Niki whirled and at the end of a complete rotation kicked Phelps directly in the mouth. A tooth fell out before he hit the floor. When he struggled to his knees, blood poured from his lips.
"That's it, bitch. Now you will pay."
"Gee, David. You really scare me. What's a little girl like me to do against a big, bad guy like you?"
Niki openly laughed at him.
From his dirty jeans, Phelps pulled out a switchblade knife, snapping it open. Then he launched toward her. The blade was aimed at her heart, but never got close. She kicked his forearm with her right foot, sending the knife flying across the room. It clattered on the floor on the other side of his messy desk.
"Tsk, tsk. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with sharp objects? You could get hurt if you're not careful."
Phelps’s utterances were unintelligible. His eyes displayed the bewilderment he faced in the form of an attractive young lady.
"Come on, David. I understood you when you were cursing at me. Now, you're not making any sense at all. Can you speak in English, please? I don't understand all that mumbo–jumbo."
The little man charged at her. She deftly sidestepped his futile effort and tripped him as he passed. Phelps fell face first on the floor, knocking the wind from his lungs.
"Had enough, David? Come on, get up. I'm just starting to have fun with this little game. You're not going to be a sore loser, are you?"
Phelps grabbed his desk, pulling himself to his unsteady feet.
"You made a mistake, bitch."
He yanked open the drawer and jerked out Niki's thirty-eight revolver, the one he had taken from her at the townhouse. He started to raise it.
Niki kicked the gun out of his hand with her left foot. The weapon exploded, discharging a bullet into the ceiling. Another three hundred and sixty degree spin and her right foot smashed Phelps above his ear. He fell to his knees, the thirty-eight revolver dropping harmlessly to the floor.
Dalton crashed through the door, his .357 Magnum raised and ready. He took one look at the small man on the floor with blood dripping from his mouth down his body. Then he grinned at Niki.
"Looks like you have this under control," he said.
"Yep. No problem. You'd better get out of here. I need to finish my conversation with Mr. Phelps," Niki replied.
"You're not about to do something stupid, or you?"
"No, I just got a hankering for a chocolate eclair. There’s a doughnut shop two blocks down. I'll be there as soon as the police pick up this scumbag."
He paused for a moment, then nodded and exited the small office.
Niki turned back to Phelps. She towered over him for a few minutes until the safety man tried to stand. She punched him in his left eye.
"That was for leaving me in the swamp," she said.
Phelps grabbed his left eye. She punched him in the right eye.
"That was for leaving Dalton in the swamp."
Phelps whimpered when he sunk back to his knees.
"Crying won't do you much good, little man. Do you know what they do to crybabies where you're going? It won’t be a pleasant experience, I promise you." Then her right foot struck him full in his groin.
"That was for being a sleaze."
Phelps groaned, falling on his face on the grimy floor while Niki walked around him. She retrieved her revolver and called the police. She opened the door. While waiting for them to arrive, she needed the fresh air.
Monday Morning
Tiger Eye Investors
"Ashton, thanks for seeing us on short notice," Niki said.
She and Dalton seated themselves in the small conference room. Ashton Johnston grimaced when he sat, as though someone had placed stinging worms in his chair. His face had new lines of stress, his lips much thinner than usual. The stockbroker could not stay still, constantly squirming.
"You're welcome," he replied. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"We are following up with you as part of our investigation into Scott's death. We would like to clarify some statements you made to me before," Niki said, taking out a pad.
Johnson coughed.
"Sure. Anything I can do to help."
Niki stared at the stockbroker. "What have been your work hours since last Wednesday when Scott was killed?"
The lines around Ashton's eyes tightened. "What kind of question is that? What does that have to do with anything?"
Niki did not deflect her gaze. "We are looking at every possibility. This conversation will go a lot quicker if you let us ask the questions and you answer them."
"Okay, what was the question one more time? My hours?"
"What time do you typically come to work and what time do you leave?"
"Since Scott died, I'm usually the first one to get here, especially since Donna doesn't come in the office anymore. She used to beat Scott to the office every morning."
"And in the afternoons?." Niki asked.
"I'm almost always the last one to leave. Most of these young guys can't wait to fly out of here. They view this office as an ATM to pay for their time after work. To them, it's a job, not a career."
"So, are you here alone in the early morning and late afternoons?"
"Now I see where this conversation is going," he said. "I can already answer your question. No, I did not steal the scissors, the letter opener, or the stapler from Donna's desk. You can write that down on your tablet. I didn't do it."
"Was anyone else alone in the office at any time?" Niki asked.
"How would I know? I don't keep track of every employee every minute of the day. Besides, they all have keys. Any of them could have come back to the office after work. We all use the same code for the alarm system."
"Do you know if any of them came here after work?"
"No, how would I?"
"Aren't you their manager since Scott is no longer here? Don't you supervise their daily activities?"
"Look. I can't look over their shoulders every minute of every day. I have to go outside the office to meet clients many days. I could be gone for several hours."
"You keep a log of your outside meetings?"
"No—uh, yes. It’s required by the regulatory bodies."
"May we see the log for the last week?"
"I haven’t filled it out yet. I usually wait. Sometimes, I don't fill it out until the end of the month. It's one of those housekeeping items that I'm not very good at."
"Do you remember off of the top of your head which clients you met outside the office since Wednesday?"
Johnson shook his head. "No. I'll need to refresh my memory with the receipts."
Niki laughed. "You and I both know that you weren't meeting with clients, don't we?"
"I might have gone back home. My wife is at her sisters. We are having some difficulties. Sometimes, I like to go back to the house and have a drink. There's nobody there to bother me." The stockbroker hung his head.
"Why didn't you tell me this before, that you and your wife were having marital issues?" Niki asked.
"Because it isn’t important. That's not right. It is important, but not to your investigation. What happens between my wife and me is our business. Nobody else's."
Niki smiled, but not in a friendly way. "Does that include Sheila Wilson?"
Johnson's jaw dropped. His brain failed to connect to his mouth.
"Did you really think we wouldn’t find out you asked Sheila to marry you?" Niki tapped her pen on the table.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The stockbroker slumped in his chair.
“I'll take yo
ur response to mean you haven't told your wife yet. I think your words were that you would eliminate the problem. What did you mean by that, Ashton?”
Johnson stared at her. Then he stared at Dalton.
"You aren't buying into this, are you, Senator?" His eyes were desperate, turning blood red instead of white.
Dalton stared back. "I was there when Sheila told us. And yes, I believe she was telling the truth."
"Come on, man," Johnson plead. "She must have misunderstood what I said. I don't know how she came up with a story like that, but it's not true. I swear. It's not true."
"Ashton, give it up," Dalton said, as if talking to a child. "You're not doing yourself any favors by continuing to lie. Why don't you try the truth? It's a lot easier."
"Do you realize what I have to lose. If my wife finds out about this, I'll lose my business, everything I've ever worked for. I'll lose my entire life." Johnson's chest heaved, although no sound was evident. Thoughts of a heart attack crossed Niki's mind.
"Ashton, do you want me to call an ambulance? You're not looking too good. Are you okay?"
Johnson collapsed in his chair, his arms limp at his sides. Niki rushed around the table, feeling for a pulse in the inert partner. She sighed relief when she confirmed that Johnson was still alive. Dalton dialed for an ambulance.
Monday Afternoon
East Baton Rouge Parish Jail
"How are you holding up?" Niki asked. The hourglass blonde on the other side of the table looked hazard and worn for the first time since Niki met her. Donna's long thick hair, one asset in which she had tremendous pride, was oily and stringy. The green jumpsuit with white stripes overwhelmed her petite figure. Only her eyes remained bright, though some red crept in from the lack of sleep.
"Miss Niki," she replied. "I've never been in a place like this in my life. I've heard stories about the parish jails, but I never paid much attention. I thought it was all exaggerated just to scare people."
Donna stopped to wipe her eyes with an over-sized sleeve.
