Murder In Louisiana Politics

by Jim Riley

  "Who was the other lady in his life?" Niki asked.

  "That's just it," Clark replied. "It wasn’t another lady. It was a man."

  "Who was the man?"

  "I don't know," he paused. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, and Dennis was my friend. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry."

  "If he was your friend, then he would want you to help me find out who killed him. To me, it isn’t important if he was a homosexual or heterosexual, or both. I only want to uncover his murderer."

  "He wasn't no Homo," Josie declared. "I don't know where this idiot gets all his information. Probably from down behind the pipe racks after smoking some of that funny stuff. And I know you do it," she said the last part looking directly at Clark.

  "I–I–we're getting off the subject. Look, I said I was sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

  "Did he ever tell you the identity of the man?"

  "I told you there ain't no man," Josie glared at Niki, then at Clark. He ignored her.

  "I heard him say the name, Lonnie. A couple of times. But I don't know his last name."

  "Did Lonnie ever come by the office?"

  "Not that I know of," Clark answered, "but I'm not sure I would have recognized him if he did. Dennis never introduced anyone as Lonnie."

  "Do you mind if I look in Mr. Hopper's office? He may have a number for Lonnie in there somewhere."

  "I'm not sure we should let you in there without telling his wife." Clark looked over his shoulder. "Or the police."

  Niki handed him a card. "You can check with Samson Mayeaux with the Sheriff's office. He is the one who asked me to help."

  "I know Samson," Josie announced. "If he sent you here, then you can look in there, but I'm warning you. There ain't nobody name Lonnie that Dennis liked. Like I said, Ray ain't got the brains of a termite."

  Clark ignored the insults and led Niki to the back of the shop to a small office. It was barely big enough to fit the desk, file cabinet, and three chairs.

  "Do you know if he left a phone here? Samson said they didn't find one at the scene of the murder."

  "I don't know," he replied. "He usually had it with him."

  "No problem. We can get a record of his phone calls and texts from the invoices. It'd be easier if we had the actual phone."

  "You ain’t gonna find nothing," Josie huffed.

  Niki sat down behind Dennis Hopper's desk. Her cell buzzed. She started to ignore the call, but then saw who was calling.

  "Hey, Donna," she said. "Find anything?"

  Niki listened to her young partner without interrupting.

  When Donna paused in the report, Niki asked, "What were the dates?"

  Niki jotted them down and placed a star by each one. After disconnecting the call, she turned back to the pair of workers.

  "How was the shop financially? Has business been bad lately?" She asked.

  "With the growth of Central, we've been doing well. We were just talking about adding to our inventory but decided to wait for a while." Clark answered.

  "Are you sure Mr. Hopper decided to wait?"

  "Yeah. He told me Friday we needed to wait to make sure the business was going to continue to grow."

  "Then why would he have taken out fifty thousand dollars from his savings and IRA last week?"

  Both workers stared at her like she was speaking a foreign language.

  "He didn't do that," Josie blurted. "I would have known about it if he did, and he didn't say nary a word to me."

  "That was my partner on the call," Niki said. "We are certain he took the money out in cash. Samson didn't find any money on him after his death."

  "Then it must be here in this office somewhere," Josie said. "Dennis wouldn't be walking around with that kind of money."

  "Where would he have kept it?"

  "In the safe, behind the picture of Robert E Lee." Josie pointed at a print of the Confederate general.

  "Do you have the combination?" Niki asked, after removing the picture.

  "He kept it in his drawer. He was afraid he would forget it one day," she said.

  Niki found the numbers on a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the desk drawer. In only a few twirls of the dial, the door opened.

  It was not a big safe, but it was what was lying on top of a small stack of papers that riveted Niki's attention. She pointed at it.

  "Do either you know anything about that?"

  Clark and Josie crowded closer for a better look. Josie simply shook her head.

  "What is it?" Clark asked.

  "Unless I'm mistaken, that is the ground up poke salad," Niki sighed without breaking her stare at the substance in the clear plastic bag. "And these are syringes like the one Samson found in Dennis’s hand."

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “That is definitely poke salad,” Samson Mayeaux announced after placing a sprinkle of it on the tip of his tongue.

  "What do you make of it?" Niki asked, looking over, or trying to look over his massive shoulder in the small room that Dennis Hopper called his office.

  "Same syringes. Same plant. To me, it says Dennis Hopper was involved in the death of Omar Philbin," he replied.

  "But what about Paula?"

  "She may have been the instrument, but I'm guessing Dennis was calling the shots."

  "But the poisoning of Omar happened before Dennis took out the money."

  "He could have had a lot more cash stashed away. A lot of people pay cash when they rent tools from the shop."

  "Why did she kill him if he was paying her?" Niki asked.

  "We don't know she did. We made an assumption, but we have no evidence that leads us to her. He may have killed himself."

  "Why would he drive over to the cemetery kill himself? Why not do it in this office or at his home?"

  "Just guessing," Mayeaux responded. "He had a deep interest in the Civil War. Why else would he have a print of Robert E Lee hanging in his office?"

  "I don't get the connection."

  "The Port Hudson Cemetery is one of the most beloved relics of that war. If he didn't want his wife, kids, or friends to discover his body, he may have chosen a place he considered venerable."

  "Your theory is he drove to the cemetery and stuck the syringe in himself?" Niki asked.

  Mayeaux nodded without looking at her.

  "Why would he do that? He was on our list, but he was nowhere close to the top of it. He was a lot closer to the bottom."

  "How would he know that?" Mayeaux turned to face her. "He knew you were investigating him. He tried it take you out two or three times, and you were too good for him. He knew you would eventually nail him."

  "I wish I had as much confidence in myself as you think he did. I wasn't focused on Dennis Hopper at all."

  "I know I wouldn't want you investigating me. You tend to get to the truth."

  "Thanks, I guess. So why don't I feel so smart since I had half a dozen or more suspects higher on my radar than Hopper."

  "Don't worry," Mayeaux said "you would have gotten there, eventually."

  "What about Paula?" Niki asked.

  "My guess is she is on an island somewhere in the Caribbean. Probably will stay down there until all this blows over and we forget about her."

  "I don't plan to forget her," Niki stated. "No matter what happened to Hopper, she still stuck a needle in Donna and tried to kill her. I plan on making Paula pay for that."

  "Good luck," Mayeaux chuckled. "I said she was in the islands, but the truth is she could be in Paris, Oslo, or Belize. As smart as she is and the resources she has, I'm not sure you'll ever hear her name again."

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Monday

  Atchafalaya Basin

  Paula finished the poke salad stew and the Dixie beer. She stood and stretched, already antsy to get back into the game. She knew the safest thing she could do was to stay in the middle of nowhere.

  But she had never played it safe in her entire life. Playing safe was no fun. P
laying safe did not give her the adrenaline rushes like the one she got feeling the needle plunge into Dennis Hopper.

  She knew she would act. She tried to keep restrained from rushing away from the sanctuary and tracking Niki Dupre. The investigator was a worthy opponent, and would have to be dealt with at some point.

  She felt the adrenaline rushing back. The reason, she suspected, is unlike her other targets, Niki Dupre was dangerous. Paula was uncertain she could get the better of the detective. This was a new, exciting ambition, to kill someone as worthy as herself.

  She shifted her focus to the others involved with the campaign. The aide, George Thomas, may have had enough of Omar, but he had the inept politician ahead of the other candidates in the polls. He had no reason to kill the golden goose until he had drained every penny he could.

  The assistant, Chrissy Becker, was only a toy Omar played with when he got bored. Without the congressman, she had no status. Like a parasite on its host, she needed Philbin.

  The wife, Alicia Philbin, probably wanted to kill Omar on more than one occasion. She stood to gain a lot of money with his death. But if she wanted to kill him, why not wait until after the election when the real money poured in?

  That left the other two candidates. Jimmy Gill had to be on the list. He believed Omar spread a rumor about his daughters. Paula had never been part of a functional family, but that did not mean she did not understand the dynamics of one. If she were Jimmy Gill, she would have killed Omar.

  Kenny Long. Omar leaked photographs of him in compromising situations on a beach in Belize. If one believed the innuendos, Long used campaign funds for the lark to Central America. Kenny had a live-in girlfriend and was probably embarrassed by the revelation.

  Paula grabbed another beer. She sorted through the list of suspects in a logical manner and came up with two with the top. Jimmy Gill and Kenny Long. Which one had the strongest motive to eliminate Philbin? To Paula, it came down to something she desired but never had. Family.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Monday night

  Bridgestone Exotic Ranch

  Niki was going through much the same exercise as Paula. The primary difference was she had an additional suspect even though he was now dead. Dennis Hopper had to leap to the top of the list even though Niki had her doubts.

  With Mayeaux’s reassurance, Donna and Drexel retreated to their respective homes. That left Dalton and Niki at the ranch. He excused the cook, and they prepared the meal for themselves. That meant Dalton did the cooking, and Niki took care of the dishes.

  That night, he fixed one of his favorite meals. He breaded and deep-fried chunks of Axis tenderloin, the most tender cut on the best tasting venison. He added fried hot water cornbread, turnip greens with pepper sauce, and candied yams.

  They sat at the table after the meal before cleaning the dishes. A cup of hot black coffee occupied their hands.

  "You're awful quiet," Dalton said.

  "I'm thinking. I tend to think better when I'm not talking," Niki answered.

  "Here's to thinking," Dalton hoisted his cup.

  Niki shot him an evil glance, but the senator did not respond. She was tempted to show him how she felt with sign language but restrained.

  "What is your great mind thinking about?" He asked with obvious sarcasm.

  "Some people respect my mind."

  "Me too. But I've also seen your body, and a man can only respect one thing at a time."

  She tossed a napkin in his direction.

  "Leave it to a man to rationalize his primal urges. Women can respect men for more than one attribute at a time."

  "And that's when we make a good pair. I want your body, and you still love me despite my shortcomings. Works for me."

  "Then wash the dishes, and use cold water. That may bring you back down to earth."

  Niki left the room and wandered to the back porch, taking the cup of coffee with her.

  A few minutes later, Dalton brought a pot of fresh coffee outside.

  "Care for a refill?" He asked.

  "Sure," Niki responded. "Sorry for the scene back there, but something isn't right about all this and I can't put my finger on it."

  "Frustrating, isn't it?"

  "Yeah. The thing is, I'm positive Dennis was not the one who hired Paula to kill Omar, but all the evidence points in his direction."

  "What makes you suspicious?"

  "First, he didn’t take the money out until Friday. That would have been late for a payoff to kill Omar last Saturday. People like Paula want to get paid upfront. Then they can disappear without further contact."

  "Is that all?"

  "He took the money after the car bomb, and the guys attacked us here at the Lodge. It was after Paula tried to kill Donna."

  "Maybe Dennis had some mad money stashed away. He had that safe in his office."

  "I don't know," Niki said while shaking her head. "It doesn't fit the character I'm picturing when I look at who Dennis was."

  "But if we are to believe Clark, that image of Dennis wasn't altogether intact. Seems like the family man also engaged the company of other men."

  "That's true, but I still don't think he had the kind of money he would have needed laying around the office. Donna looked at his finances. He wasn't exactly struggling, but he wasn't going to make the wealthiest man in America list any time soon."

  "Anything else?" Dalton asked.

  "Yeah. Here," the private investigator handed him a straw from the table. "Assume this is a syringe and you are Dennis Hopper. Show me how you would kill yourself."

  "That's not fair. I would've placed the shot in my shoulder."

  "Which one?"

  "My left shoulder. I'm right-handed."

  "Exactly," Niki nodded. "Almost every man I know would have stuck himself in the shoulder opposite his strong hand."

  "But Dennis stuck himself in the stomach."

  "Okay, show me with the straw."

  Dalton pulled up his shirt with his left hand and placed it against his firm stomach on the right side.

  "That's how I would've done it," Niki said. "But I'm also right-handed. By the way, nice bod."

  "Thanks, but I'm guessing there's more to this than a quick peek at my stomach."

  "Dennis was also right-handed. He should have stuck the needle in his right part of his belly. Instead, if you want to believe he committed suicide, he reached across his body and inserted it in his left side."

  "I see," Dalton saw the inconsistency.

  "Now pretend you want to stab me in my stomach."

  "I'd rather stab you in a different place and not with a straw."

  "Get your mind off of that for thirty seconds if you can. I know it's difficult, but play nice like a big boy."

  "You take the fun out of everything."

  He stood in front of the private investigator and jammed the straw at her stomach. When he looked down, he saw that he was holding the straw against the left side of her belly.

  “Damn," he sighed. "Somebody else killed him. He didn't kill himself.”

  "Paula," Niki muttered.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Monday night

  Central

  Sammi and Tammi Gill were not so different from other kids in Central that just made it to the magic status of teenager. Suddenly, they understood everything about the world around them, and their parents had no clue.

  "Do you think we should do it?" Tammi asked of her twin sister.

  "What do we have to lose?" Sammi answered.

  "Those two geeks in there will try to take away our cell phones again," Tammi referred to her parents, Jimmy and Diane Gill.

  “We can always talk Dad into giving them back to us.”

  "He's about as firm as a wet napkin," Tammi giggled.

  "Mom's not much different. About like a chocolate eclair, hard on the outside but soft on the inside."

  "Neither of them will keep our phones very long. Come on, the others are at Connie's house. Her p
arents left her there by herself for some meeting in New Orleans."

  "I hope Andy is there. If he gets any hotter, he's going to have to get a fire truck to follow him around. He sizzles."

  "We’d better hurry," Tammi said "I hope they haven't hogged all the beer."

  The two girls opened the bedroom window. The ranch-style house was on piers and the window was about six feet above the ground. They had moved a big rock right under the window over a year ago when they first started sneaking out at night.

  They gathered up the few belongings they needed for the unofficial party including a small bag of weed, and started out the window. Tammi, as usual, went first. Even though they were twins, Tammi was twenty minutes older than her sister and assumed the lead role in almost every endeavor they attempted.

  When Tammi slid out, she turned so she could hold onto the windowsill while her feet searched for the rock. She had no idea there was another person anywhere close until she felt the syringe plunge into her buttock.

  Then a firm hand clasped over her mouth and eased her to the ground. Her body felt weird. She could see, smell, and hear but could not speak or move her body. Laying flat on her back, she saw Sammi’s feet appear in the window. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped. She was helpless as the figure stepped over her and inserted a needle into Sammi.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Tuesday morning

  Central

  “Samson, I don’t know where they went,” Jimmy Gill told the Chief of Homicide. “When I went in to wake them up, they weren’t in their bedroom. From the looks of things, they never went to bed.”

  "Does this happen often?" Samson asked.

  "More than it should," Diane Gill answered instead of Jimmy. "He lets those girls get away with murder and someday he's gonna regret it."