Catahoula: Shallow End Gals (A Shallow End Gals Book 4) Read online

  “This is most interesting. It was only hours ago that I was informed of your tragic and unexpected death.”

  Acer had his confirmation now, too. He could read it in his contact’s eyes. His days with the machine were numbered. He knew he hadn’t failed at any of his assignments, so why did they want him dead? He knew it was fruitless to get an honest answer. One person may be willing to tell him, Stone.

  Reuben saw Cat sitting on a bench under a large oak tree and joined him. Cat spoke first, “Tell me what else you have.”

  Reuben gave a nervous nod, “That video was from a hidden camera at a store across from the alley. Over on Mission Street. Otis Grocery?” Reuben waited for some sign of recognition from Cat and then continued. “Otis never trusted the city cams and had his own installed. Still has them. His habit is to take the video home each night for safe keeping. Man never throws anything away.”

  Cat looked impatient and Reuben started talking faster. “Since all the police had been over there, Otis watched the whole video after he got home. He knew Dad. Liked him. Otis wasn’t sure who to trust and didn’t know about me. Mom remarried when I was young and gave me my stepdad’s name.”

  “After Katrina we had a small memorial service for Dad, since they said he was dead. Otis was the only person, not family, that was there. Everyone thought Dad was a murderer. That’s when we met and he told me he had something for me to see.” Reuben leaned in and lowered his voice, “He also gave me the stuff that guy put in the dumpster. Bloody rags, needle, and gloves that might have fingerprints.”

  Cat said, “Go on.”

  Reuben swallowed, “I thought Dad was dead, remember, and I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. Then one day, about four years ago, Otis calls and tells me to come to his store. In the back room sits my Dad.”

  Reuben inhaled quickly, “Dad said the prisoner transfers were a joke. At first the Sherriff wasn’t even going to move the prisoners. He was forced to evacuate the jail, so it wasn’t very organized. Did you know there are still fourteen convicted prisoners missing? When the prisoner boat turned over in the storm, Dad just swam for safety. Anyway, Dad gave his shirt to some guy that lost his in the floods. Prisoner shirts have ID numbers stamped on them. Went up in some dead guy’s attic and was rescued by the National Guard, flown to Baton Rouge. Apparently the guy that got dad’s shirt died.”

  Cat asked, “Why did your dad come back?”

  “He wants his life back. He has spent the last years tracking down the man in the video and following him around. The guy in that video is a cop. Mason Dooley. Bad dude with bad friends.”

  Reuben handed Cat a file folder. “Pretty much everything Dad has found out is in here.”

  Cat glanced in the folder and saw documents and photos paper clipped together. It looked fairly thin for eight years of detective work. Cat stared at Reuben. “Your dad is taking a big chance coming to me. If I don’t believe in his innocence, I’ll go after him with everything I have. William and Molly Jarvis deserve no less.”

  “That is exactly what Dad said you’d say.”

  Cat spent the next two hours at the office reviewing the Jarvis file and the prosecution notes. Martha stuck her head in the office door, “I’m going to the cafeteria if you want anything?”

  Cat shook his head and kept reading. He sensed Martha was still there. She was. Martha asked, “I thought you had court at three?”

  Cat looked at his watch, “Damn. I do!” Cat closed down his monitor, grabbed his briefcase and rushed past Martha. He was halfway to the elevator when he yelled back, “Thanks.”

  Tuesday 3:00 pm

  Roger had caught the first charter available from South Bend, Indiana to New Orleans. Paul Casey, often partnered with Roger on cases, agreed to take an FBI jet from Cancun immediately. Roger chuckled to himself that Paul was going to give him some grief for pulling him off vacation. Pablo Manigat and Todd Nelson were also on their way to New Orleans. They had been members of Roger’s team in New Orleans six months ago. Agents had come to calling them the ‘dream team’.

  Roger had spent the flight reviewing everything the FBI had on Senator Dalton. What was remarkable to Roger was that it didn’t appear there was anything very interesting about Senator Dalton. Usually there was a glaring political motive. Senator Dalton had run a grass roots campaign and for the most part had been one of the few Senators willing to cross party lines on the big issues. His reputation was clean and the Bureau didn’t have any personal notes that suggested anything different.

  Roger’s cab delivered him to the side door of the New Orleans field office. The mid-day heat and humidity took Roger’s breath away. The New Orleans heat was not a fond memory. Roger entered the building and headed for SSA Dan Thor’s office. Thor had assumed the senior position for the office six months ago. Roger had brought Thor to New Orleans as part of his ‘dream team’ at that time and Thor had stayed. Roger had heard that Thor and Jeanne Manigat, another member of the team, were now a couple.

  The intake agent warned Roger that Thor was in a foul mood. Roger expected as much. Thor was a bulldog of an agent; strong, aggressive and fearless. He was definitely not suited for the delicate politics of an administrative position. Roger knew Thor only accepted the position so he could stay in New Orleans with Jeanne.

  Roger knocked on Thor’s open door. Thor looked up and smiled. “Damn, I’m glad to see you! I’m dying here!” Thor had stood and reached his hand across the desk to greet Roger.

  Roger chuckled, “You might not be so happy when I tell you why we’re here.”

  Thor frowned. He gestured Roger to take a seat. “I figured there was a catch. What’s up?”

  Roger leaned back in his chair, “We believe Louisiana Senator Dalton was dumped in the Assumption Parish sinkhole about six hours ago. I’m expecting the field reports from Baton Rouge any minute.”

  Thor moaned. “I saw the alert that he was missing. Didn’t know about the sinkhole. Damn, that will make for some headlines.”

  Roger continued, “That’s not all. The Director said the DOJ has officially dumped the entire consent decree on this office. The Director has asked me to lead the Senator case. The Bureau has requisitioned more agents for this office and has offered to bring Frank Mass back to do administrative. That would put you back in the field with me, if you want.”

  “HELL YES!” Thor’s expression made Roger chuckle.

  Before Roger could even say anything, the intake agent knocked on the door. Thor looked up at the ceiling, “Yeah?”

  “Got that Voodoo lady here, says she has to talk to you.”

  Thor threw his head back and laughed as he looked at Roger, “Just like the old days. The minute you get here, shit starts. You want to join me?”

  Roger stood, “Sure. Might as well jump right in.”

  Spicey crossed her legs and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She glanced around the stark room, then uncrossed her legs, crossed her ankles and placed her hands on her handbag. She cupped her hand in front of her mouth and huffed out some breath. Satisfied, she tossed her head and gave her hair a quick flip. Her fidgeting had moved her hair extension to the side of her face and a long pink feather now pointed straight toward her mouth. She blew at the feather from the side of her mouth a couple of times and then yanked the entire piece from her head.

  Spicey crammed the hairpiece in her purse, leaned forward and shook her shoulders until her amulets hung neatly in her cleavage. She started drumming her nails on the table top. What the hell was takin’ them so long?

  Thor and Roger watched from the observation room. Thor looked at Roger, “We actually get good information from her from time to time. Jeanne says she really has Voodoo powers or some damn shit. We better go listen to her before she explodes in there.”

  Roger smiled and followed Thor into the room. After introductions, Thor placed a notepad in front of him and began writing. He looked up at Spicey’s frowning face. “The intake agent said you claim to have some knowle
dge about a murder?”

  Spicey sat up straight, her eyes narrowed and she said, “Murders. You got dead people all over the cemetery.”

  Thor raised an eyebrow and asked, “Where would you rather they be?”

  Spicey looked at Roger. “This one thinks he’s funny.” She had pointed to Thor. “I mean you got extrees. Been stacked on top who supposed to be there, in them damn crypts in the City of the Dead.”

  Roger curled his index finger around his chin and asked, “Is this information from a ‘vision’? How do you know this?”

  Spicey leaned forward, “I know from a lady that got killed, almost. She wants to stay secret, but she be wantin’ some bad revenge. She be Hoodoo, they don’t mess around. I’m thinkin’ if you catch the killers first, we save us some bad Mojo.” Spicey started nodding her head to some music only she could hear. “I also got some information from my Spirits that might help some.”

  Thor eyes flashed over to Roger and then back down to his notebook. “What did the Spirits say?” He positioned himself to take notes even though he was trying to keep from laughing.

  Spicey waved her finger at him. “You ain’t gonna think this so funny when you start crowbarin’ them crypts open! My Spirits say these all be missin’ people of some importance.” Spicey smoothed her skirt and looked at Roger, “You need to find a rainbow truck and a big headed lady named Betty Sue. Oh yeah, Betty Sue got an attitude.” Spicey pointed her middle finger in the air for effect. “Them be your killers. There be two of ‘em.”

  Mathew Core leaned against the wall in the large gymnasium and watched the janitorial staff unroll the huge mats. Jeanne came through the far door and walked over to him. Her long, black hair was twisted in a braid that fell midway down her back. She wore a khaki t-shirt that failed to hide her ample bosom and her athletic stride confirmed that she was a warrior at heart. Core noticed the men working had stopped and were mesmerized by her as she passed them. She was not just a beauty, she was stunning. Core could tell Jeanne did not let her beauty define her.

  Core spent two decades as a contractor for the U.S. government. Often the line defining the right and wrong side of the law was blurred. Last fall Core had fully severed his ties to the dark side and as a reward had been re-established by the FBI as a security consultant. Jeanne and Core had a history from last fall. Jeanne actually rescued Core’s wife and daughter from a drug cartel. They now had a mutual respect for each other that had been earned under the worst of circumstances.

  Jeanne nodded at Core and looked at her watch. “Have they all been through level four yet?” There were ten levels of self-defense expertise and the FBI’s goal was to have the entire SWAT team at level six.

  Jeanne was referring to the members of the New Orleans SWAT team that were expected to arrive in minutes. She and Core were to evaluate their progress in their self-defense training. The New Orleans officers had been working with trainers at the FBI gym for months. These men would be the core of the New Orleans Police Department when they were done.

  “Got most of them through level five now. One or two hot shots may be level six.” Core shrugged. “How do you want to do this? I think we have twenty seven scheduled for today. We are also supposed to give our recommendations for the top two.”

  Jeanne shrugged, “I’m fine with you laying the ground rules. Just remind them this is training, we don’t want to get hurt and we don’t want them hurting each other.”

  Core nodded his head as the first group of noisy men filtered into the room and dropped towels and gym bags on the bleachers. More men followed and soon all twenty seven were there.

  Core looked at Jeanne with a boyish grin on his face. “Want to start with a scramble? Quick way to weed them out.”

  Jeanne smiled.

  Core blew his whistle and walked to the center of the mats. The men all stood at attention and waited for Core to speak. Jeanne noticed that the most intimidating of the men stood at the opposite ends of the line. They probably were the alpha males with their loyal packs.

  Core held his hand up and pointed to Jeanne, “We have Special Agent Jeanne Manigat from the local FBI field office helping us today. For those of you who have not met me, my name is Mathew Core. I own Core Security and have been commissioned by the FBI to assist in your training evaluations.”

  Jeanne noticed some of the men whispering among themselves. She was quite sure they were disappointed to see a woman doing their evaluations. She was used to this attitude and had found it rarely to be a problem once they realized she was skilled.

  Core looked at Jeanne, “I’ll go first.” Jeanne nodded.

  Core wiggled his fingers at the men on the sidelines. “Come and get it. Twelve from the left. We’ll do this in halves. This is training, so don’t hurt me. I’ll try not to hurt you.”

  One of the alpha men yelled over, “You want all twelve of us to attack you?”

  Core answered, “Single file, keep it moving. Humor me.”

  The men started walking onto the mats and approaching Core. He systematically tossed them as they came. One by one they got back up and attacked more aggressively. Core pointed to one alpha. “Training!” The alpha attacked again, but with less anger and more concentration on skill. Core had all of them down on the mats and blew his whistle. Core signaled for the remaining men to attack.

  “Come on! We don’t have all day.” After contact with each one at least twice, Core blew his whistle again.

  He wiped his brow and said, “Good work. A lot of you have made real progress since last month.” Core stepped off the mat. “Take a ten minute break and we’ll go again.”

  Core walked over to Jeanne. “What did you see?”

  Jeanne tilted her head toward the group of men slowly standing after Core’s demonstration. “You’ve got at least two alphas that want top spot. They are both good, but may have control issues.”

  Core agreed and said, “Hot shot in the red sweatshirt wants my ass now. He’s not going to want to play with a woman.”

  Jeanne watched the men a moment and said, “I think he’s okay. You just didn’t leave his ego any room. He’s got his boys watching, remember. I think the one in the black shirt will be our problem.”

  Core said, “You may be right. Let’s give them a demo while they cool down and then you can have a turn.”

  Jeanne smiled, “Sure you’re ready?”

  Core shook his head. “Not really. Zack said you beat the shit out of him today. Don’t hurt me.”

  Jeanne chuckled and walked with Core to the center of the mat. Core called for everyone’s attention. “Bet you think I’m copping out fighting a woman?” Nobody said anything. Core pointed at Jeanne, “She’s the bad ass.” One of the men snickered behind his hand. Core added, “Never underestimate your opponent. Agent Manigat holds the FBI record in blades and trained with FBI SWAT for weapons. She is sniper certified and holds the agency’s highest level in self-defense.”

  A wave of respectful faces appeared on the men.

  “Agent Manigat and I are going to demonstrate for you some of the countermoves if you encounter a level nine or above attacker.”

  After an impressive five minute demonstration of skills, Core raised his hand to stop. Jeanne immediately lowered her leg that was positioned to kick. Core stepped off the mats and yelled, “Go get some. Single file. Keep it comin’.”

  The men gingerly approached Jeanne. She waited for them to get within attack range and took command of each one. Red sweatshirt approached her from the side. Jeanne turned, stopped his punch and twisted his arm behind him as she propelled him behind her. He immediately got back up and charged from the back. Jeanne twirled on her heel and kicked his mid-section. She dove on his side as he fell and placed her forearm against his neck. She leaned down and whispered, “This is training. Control yourself. It’s all about control.”

  Red sweatshirt got back up and attacked again. This time turning in time to cause Jeanne to miss a kick and grabbing her leg.

&
nbsp; Jeanne smiled. “Very good.”

  Red sweatshirt nodded. He was beaming. Mathew blew the whistle.

  The second group approached Jeanne very aggressively. Mathew yelled “Training” a couple of times. Jeanne held her own, but sensed the aggression of this second batch of men. Mathew blew his whistle to stop the attack.

  Black shirt came at Jeanne from the side. He must not have heard the whistle. Jeanne saw his heel coming in from the side and spun. She crouched below his airborne leg, grabbed and twisted it with her left hand as her right arm struck the back of his neck. She knew he felt her blow, but she had controlled herself. He lay on the mat moaning and Jeanne stood over him and offered her hand.

  He pushed himself up from the mat ignoring her hand. Jeanne tried to offer him a face saving moment. “You are very strong and very good. But this is about self-defense. Not aggressive attack. Didn’t you hear the whistle?”

  Black shirt flexed his hands, “Guess I missed that.”

  Core reminded everyone there would be another evaluation in two weeks and dismissed them. Jeanne asked, “What’s that one’s name?”

  Core checked his sheet. “Mason Dooley.”

  It had been hard for Ed to finally fall asleep. He was exhausted from working the docks all night, but knowing that Catahoula knew he was alive had his mind in overdrive. His fitful sleep was broken by a loud pounding on his door. Ed glanced out the window and saw a patrol officer on his porch. Had Catahoula discovered where he lived already? The officer pounded on the door again. Ed decided to face his fate, whatever it was.

  He opened the door, “Can I help you, officer?”

  The officer pointed across the street. “Lady that rented over there died yesterday. We’re lookin’ for her granddaughter. Have you seen the little girl around?” Ed paused not sure what to say. Before he could answer, the officer continued, “We need to find her. Can’t have her livin’ on the streets of Nawlens.” He pushed a card to Edward, “Call this number if you see her.” The card was for Child Protective Services. The officer turned and left. Ed watched him walk to the neighbor’s house and repeat his speech.