Murder In Louisiana Politics

by Jim Riley

  "Do what?" Niki stopped nibbling on the glazed doughnut. "I thought there was a federal limit on contributions."

  "It only applies to people, not organizations. They can get whatever they want."

  "Were you able to talk to them?" Niki directed the question toward Drexel.

  "I spoke with Ronnie Garfield. He heads the group up."

  "And?"

  "He chose his words carefully. But the bottom line is they believe Omar stole their money, and they aren't very happy."

  "How about the other one?"

  "The gun control group? I left a message, but nobody returned my call yesterday I guess they don't worry about gun control on Sundays."

  "Okay. Stay after them."

  Niki turned her attention to Donna. "Any news on the separate accounts?"

  "Something funny was going on. I'm still trying to sort everything out."

  "What can you tell me so far?"

  "Omar had three separate campaign funds. One went through George Thomas as the treasurer, one has Chrissy Becker listed as the manager, and another listed himself."

  "Why three different ones?"

  "It seems like he wanted secrets. For the one that went through George, he had a lot of expenses, most of them to George."

  "I see," Niki now understood. "The next one paid slush money to Chrissy and the last one was all for himself."

  "That's what it's looking like," the hourglass blonde replied.

  "How much in each one?" Niki asked.

  "The first one is no problem. A little under two million left."

  "And the other two?"

  "Harder to pin down. Chrissy’s fund has somewhere between one million and two. For his private one, I'm still going through all the bogus accounts."

  "It's more than I thought, anyway. We are already at three to four million. What happens to those accounts now that Omar is dead?"

  "Officially or unofficially?"Donna asked.

  "Both." Niki said.

  "Officially, the money can be spent on any other candidate for public office. That means if Chrissy decides to run for dogcatcher, she can use all the money in that account to support herself. There are no limitations on which office."

  "My guess is she'll develop a sudden interest in the school board," Drexel said.

  "That'll be the best-funded local race in the short history of Central." Donna whistled. "If she doesn't win, shame on her."

  "How about outside the campaign accounts?" Niki asked, looking at it Donna.

  "A lot fuzzier. I'm trying to get through the accounting companies he opened and closed. He wasn't dumb, at least when it came to hiding money," Donna replied.

  "Looks like we have no shortage of suspects," Niki offered.

  "That means we have a list of people who won't like us." Drexel said.

  "That means we need to be careful. Somebody has already committed murder. They probably won't hesitate to do it again." Niki said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday noon

  Linda’s Chicken & Fish

  “Clarice, are you better? You weren’t looking so good Saturday morning.” Niki was again enjoying the Cajun fried chicken livers.

  "I swear. I almost turned white. Now wouldn’t that have been a sight?" The candidate laughed.

  “That’d probably make the news. Probably would go viral on YouTube.”

  “If it would help me get elected, then I might try it.” Clarice cleaned a fried chicken wing with the skill of a beaver. It was so shiny when she finished, Niki thought she saw her reflection from it.

  “We talked with some people since then. One of them told us something interesting,” Niki said.

  Clarice paused before inhaling a fourth wing. “What you talking about?”

  “We have a witness that says you went over to Omar during the break. The witness says you and Omar were close.”

  “Child,” Clarice responded, “I was just trying to find out what was so special about the man. He done attracted more gals than a shoe sale. I wanted to know just what it was.”

  “Did that involve placing your hands on his body?”

  “How else can you tell if he passes the hog test?” Clarice asked in a serious tone.

  “Huh?” Niki was confused. “What hog test?”

  “Girl, you ain’t from the country, are you?”

  “No. I was raised in Central.”

  “Well, we sold hogs out in the country. The way we can tell if a hog is healthy is to grab that big ol’ butt. If his butt ain’t firm, then you don’t want to buy him.”

  “Did Omar past the hog test?” Niki asked.

  “Lord, I’d say he was prime pork.”

  Niki struggled to remove the image of Clarice checking the firmness of Omar’s posterior from her mind. Even the Cajun fried chicken livers suddenly had a slight twang.

  “What can you tell me about an organization called People for Coastal Preservation? Have you had any contact with them?”

  “More like they had contact with me,” Clarice replied, another chicken wing devoured.

  “How so?”

  “Them folks. They be crazier than a teenager in love. They be in love with that coastline.”

  “What are they asking for?”

  “To pass a law to stop the erosion. They say we be losing a whole bunch of coast every year.”

  "Is that true?"

  "Lord, don't get me to lying to you. I heard reports somewhere Louisiana is growing every year."

  "From what?"

  "Seems like all that mud and God only knows what else flowing down the Mississippi is adding to the delta at the mouth of the river. At least that's what I heard."

  "That makes sense," Niki stated in return before having another liver. "I guess all the states upstream are sending part of themselves downstream every year."

  "Yep." Another wing disappeared. "But then crazy folks at PCP don't see it that way. They be looking at the marsh south of Morgan City."

  "Why? Do a lot of people live there?"

  "Nobody. Mostly water moccasins and nutrias. That's them big rat-like things that come here from somewhere else, and they be takin’ over that marsh."

  "So why are they so concerned if part of it gets eroded?"

  "You'ze got to ask them about that. They asked me which way I was voting on the issue."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "That I hadn't even thought about it. Lots of other things like education, poverty, and taxes were at the top of my list. Not some marsh I ain't never seen and probably never will."

  "How about an organization called the Coalition Against Guns? Did they talk to you?"

  "Sho' enough. Talk about a bunch of kooks. They wants to take guns away from folks in Louisiana. How silly can they get?"

  "What did you tell him?"

  "Just try to take my guns away from me, and I’ll show them what gun control really means."

  "I'm guessing," Niki chuckled, "you won't be expecting a campaign contribution from either one of those groups anytime soon?"

  "Don't need 'em. My campaign don’t cost me much. I figure I'll get every black vote in the district. That’ll get me into a runoff, and then some national organizations will start taking notice and help out."

  "Without Omar out of the way, your chances of winning improved dramatically."

  "That be right. I know I'll be in the runoff now."

  "Another issue came up, and I like to address it directly to you."

  "Oh, Lord. You be talking about them dirty pictures Omar was threatening to spread, ain't you?"

  "We heard there might be some of you with male strippers. Is that true?"

  "Yes'm. It be true." Clarice searched through the bones on her plate but found no more uneaten wings.

  "When were the pictures taken?"

  "At my daughter's bachelorette party. One of them fool girls thought it be funny to get a couple of boys to take all their clothes off."

  "And you participated?"

&nbs
p; "I may be old," A sly grin crossed the chubby face. "But I still be alive. Talk about passing the hog test, them two boys felt like they had buns of steel."

  "What did you tell Omar when he threatened to expose the photographs?"

  "It wasn't Omar. It was that pretty little toy he was playing with who told me."

  "Chrissy? Chrissy Becker?"

  "Yes'm. That be her. Colder than an icicle, that little girl be."

  "What did you tell Chrissy?"

  "I told the tramp to send me a couple of color eight by tens. I get them framed. All the womenfolk was going to be jealous."

  Niki would have loved to have seen Chrissy's face when Clarice told her that. The detective was getting a much sharper picture of the real Chrissy Becker. The young lady might not have been so naïve after all."

  "Did Omar's campaign try anything else, any other tricks on you?"

  "That little tramp told me they had something else, but she never told me what."

  "Were you worried?"

  "Not for the primary. All my black folks gonna vote for me no matter what I say or what I do."

  Niki knew the older lady was telling the truth. The black coalition still stood solid in a situation where there was only one black candidate. Any votes Clarice could pick up from the Latino and Asian groups were lagniappe.

  "That's really all I have, Clarice. If you think of anything else, give me a call."

  "Can I ask you for a favor?"

  Sure."

  "I dropped my Cadillac off at the Wax & Shine, and they gave me a lift here. Can you drop me back by their place so I can pick up my car? That’ll save me from calling them, and having to wait till they get a boy free."

  "No problem at all. Tell you what. I promised Donna I’d did bring her a box of fried chicken back to the office. Here," Niki thrust her hand out with a set of car keys in it. "Take these and turn on the air conditioner. It shouldn't take long, but there is no need for you to be sweating while you're waiting."

  Clarice jerked the keys out of Niki's hands, a big smile emanating with a glow of appreciation. Niki watched the overweight woman waddle through the door barely big enough to accommodate her hips.

  Niki approached the counter. She tried to decide between the three-piece and four-piece. Each came with a biscuit and two side orders. The private investigator opted for the four piece with side orders of gumbo and fried dill pickles.

  "May I help you?" The teenager behind the cash register asked. The girl was so tiny she could barely see over the counter.

  Niki placed the order, but hesitated on the kind of soda. Donna liked both Dr Pepper and Pepsi. That's when the explosion shattered the windows of the restaurant, knocking Niki to the ground.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She heard shrieking, screams, and moaning throughout the establishment. Niki leapt to her feet and pulled people out from under the debris.

  The first victim she reached was a little girl wearing a bright blue dress with prints of white daisies. Niki guessed the girl was no older than six. A deep cut from the flying glass stretched down one arm. Niki grabbed the napkin dispenser on the floor and jerked a handful of tissues out. She pressed them against the crying girl's arm.

  Sirens and flashing lights filled the already crowded parking lot. EMTs and firefighters rushed inside the building. The EMTs rendered professional aid to the mostly women and children caught in the path of the explosion.

  That's when she thought of Clarice. One looked through the now open wall told her all she needed to know. Niki's white Ford Explorer was the source of the blast. There was very little left of the automobile, and even less left of Clarice.

  The candidate would no longer be running for public office. She would not even have an open casket and her funeral. A bomb intended for Niki had blown the pleasant politician to smithereens.

  Niki turned away, not wanting to witness the carnage. If she had not decided to eat at Linda's today, none of these people would have gotten hurt. The little girl would not have to face the prospect of scars running down her arm for the rest of her life. Clarice would still be alive and looking forward to the next bachelorette party.

  A stretcher hurried past Niki, the power supplied by two physical young men. When Niki saw the person lying atop the will gurney, her heart sank. The tiny girl behind the counter had a piece of metal shrapnel poking out the side of her head. Niki could not tell if she was alive or dead.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The foreboding figure of Samson Mayeaux eclipsed the light from the hole in the wall. He walked directly to Niki, and put a big arm around the strawberry blonde. The Chief of Homicide did not release his hold while he surveyed the damage.

  The huge man grabbed an overthrown chair and sat it back upright. He gently guided Niki into the seat.

  "I'm okay," she protested. "I need to help these people."

  "Not until we take care of you first," the big man replied.

  Niki looked up with a rough face and saw nothing but deep concern. Mayeaux was not looking back into her eyes. He was looking at her side.

  Niki gasped when she glanced down and saw a ten-inch shard of glass protruding from her rib cage. She could not tell how much more of the remnant was inside her. She had not been aware of the acute pain and the immense flow of blood caused by the sharp projectile until then.

  An EMT knelt beside her. He poked gently around the side of the wound, not gingerly enough though. Each touch sent jolts of excruciating torture throughout her body.

  "We need to get that out of there," the young technician said.

  "If you do, she might bleed to death. No telling how much internal damage has been done already," the big man said.

  "That's why we need to get it out. If she is bleeding internally, we might slow it down a little."

  Niki tried to speak, but the words would not come. Instead, bubbles of blood seeped from the corners of her mouth. Wiping the blood with the back of her hand was the last thing she remembered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tuesday morning

  Lane Memorial Hospital

  Zachary's

  “What–" Niki’s mouth was too dry. Her lips could not form the words, and her tongue felt like it was twice its normal size. Her eyelids were heavy and her gaze unfocused.

  “Niki, I’m here.”

  The private investigator heard the voice. It sounded familiar to her, but her blurred vision prevented identification. Then the person placed a straw between her lips.

  The cool refreshing taste of water. No other substance on earth could have been more pleasing than that. Then, she nodded back into the land of darkness.

  The strawberry blonde woke with a start. She inspected the sterilized surroundings, the tubes running from her arms to the stand holding the IV bags, and the cords running from her body to an electrical device with multiple displays.

  Niki saw the mound under two blankets sitting in this reclining chair beside the bed. She recognized the pink tennis shoes on her feet.

  “Hey, Donna,” she rasped.

  Donna Cross threw away the blankets and leapt to the side of the bed. She grabbed Niki’s hand with one of her own, and used the other to punch the nurses’ button.

  “Niki, you had us scared.”

  “What happened?”

  “You almost got blown up. Remember, at Linda’s in Watson yesterday.”

  The details of the blasts did not immediately return, but the overall event rushed back in.

  “I–Clarice–how is she?”

  “I’m sorry. She was killed. The bomb was planted in your SUV.”

  “My God.” Niki shuts her eyes and fell deeper into the pillow. Then bit by bit, she recalled the horror. The chicken for Donna. The unimaginable explosion. The flying glass. The screaming. The crying. The petite girl being carried out on a stretcher. The shard poking out of her blouse.

  The nurse burst into the room. She checked Niki's vital signs with Donna looking over her shoulder. When she pulled
the covers back, Niki winced, an arrow of pain shooting from her side to her head.

  "You were lucky, young lady." The nurse could have come out of a Hollywood script. Mid-forties. Plump. Round face. Short hair. Short white uniform.

  "Why am I not feeling so lucky?" Niki asked, her voice still weak and raspy.

  An inch higher and you wouldn't be needing my services."

  "What?"

  "If that piece of glass had been one inch higher, it would have punctured your lung completely. Lucky for you, it barely ripped a small hole in it."

  "A small hole. Then why does it feel like the Grand Canyon?"

  "That's not your lungs. You’re feeling the rib that got in the way. In fact, that really was what saved your life. If it hadn’t been in the way, that piece of glass would have penetrated a lot farther."

  "I guess I am lucky," Niki said, although she was not feeling particularly so at the moment.

  "It’ll take a while for your lungs to heal. We closed it up, but your body will have to keep it closed. You might as well relax and be prepared to stay a while."

  "I can't," Niki protested.

  "I'm sorry, young lady. You have no choice. If you get up too soon, that hole in your lung will reopen. You may not be able to get back in time for us to save you."

  "But somebody tried to kill me."

  "I know nothing about that. You were probably in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  Niki did not believe her for a second. Clarice was the one in the wrong place at the wrong time. If she had not agreed to meet with Niki, she would still be alive. If she had not dropped her Cadillac off to get it washed and waxed, she would still be telling her stories today. If she had not agreed to a ride in Niki's Explorer, she would still have that big infectious grin.

  Then Niki realized that Clarice was still grinning. In fact, she was beaming. She was in a place where the troubles of this world would no longer bother her. The bombs of this world could no longer hurt her. As the pain shot from Niki side, the private investigator was almost envious of the lady she had become friends with on her last day on earth.