Murder On Spirit Island (Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Murder on Spirit Island

  Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 1

  Jim Riley

  Contents

  Mississippi River Delta

  Mississippi River Delta

  Present Day

  Saturday Night

  Saturday Night

  Early Sunday Morning

  Sunday Night

  Sunday Night

  Monday Morning

  Monday Afternoon

  Monday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Morning

  Tuesday Afternoon

  Tuesday Afternoon

  Tuesday Afternoon

  Tuesday Night

  Tuesday Night

  Tuesday Night

  Tuesday Night

  Tuesday night

  Tuesday Night

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Noon

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Wednesday Night

  Wednesday Night

  Wednesday Night

  Wednesday Night

  Thursday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Morning

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Wednesday Night

  Wednesday Night

  Wednesday Night

  Wednesday Night

  Thursday Morning

  Thursday Morning

  Thursday Morning

  Thursday Noon

  Thursday Afternoon

  Thursday Evening

  Thursday Evening

  Thursday Night

  Thursday Night

  Friday Morning

  Friday Morning

  Friday Morning

  Friday Morning

  Friday Morning

  Friday Morning

  Friday

  Friday

  Friday Afternoon

  Friday Afternoon

  Friday Afternoon

  Friday Night

  Saturday Morning

  Saturday Morning

  Friday Night

  Saturday Morning

  Saturday

  Saturday

  Saturday Afternoon

  Saturday Afternoon

  Saturday Afternoon

  Saturday Afternoon

  Saturday Afternoon

  Saturday Night

  Saturday Night

  Saturday Night

  Saturday Night

  Sunday Morning

  Sunday Morning

  Sunday Morning

  Sunday Afternoon

  Dear Reader

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  Copyright (C) 2020 Jim Riley

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

  Published 2020 by Gumshoe – A Next Chapter Imprint

  Cover art by CoverMint

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

  The Devil whispered in my ear, “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.” Today I whispered in the Devil’s ear, “I am the storm.”

  Unknown

  Murder is always a mistake. One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner.

  Oscar Wilde

  Under the rules of a society that cannot distinguish between profit and profiteering, between money defined as necessity and money defined as luxury, murder is occasionally obligatory and always permissible.

  Lewis Lapham

  You feel that last bit of breath leaving the body. You’re looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God!

  Ted Bundy, serial killer

  We’ve all got the power in our hands to kill but most people are afraid to use it.

  Richard Ramirez, the Hillside Strangler

  Mississippi River Delta

  1699

  Mississippi River Delta

  1699

  Humping Dog’s hormones soared like a water hawk when he looked across the mighty Mississippi River. Her stunning beauty stopped him cold. He had heard of the fair maiden of the Bayogoula tribe on the east side of roaring waters, but never in his wildest dreams did he think he would catch sight of the exquisite creature in the flesh. All her flesh. She bathed along a sandbar without a stitch of buckskins.

  The fourteen-year-old from the Houma encampment on the west bank of the river suffered at the hands of the other kids in the thatched homes because of his moniker. His mother believed in the tradition of naming her offspring after the sight of the first animal when leaving the birthing house. It could have been worse. His sister’s moniker was Limping Horse. His little brother was Shriveled Lizard, though Humping Dog was not sure if his mother saw a lizard. The kid never lowered his loincloth until at least waist deep in the water.

  According to the rituals of the Houma elders, Humping Dog could pick out his own adult name when he accomplished a feat of manhood. Taking Spotted Doe, the alluring Bayogoula girl on the far bank for his mate would more than meet the criteria. He decided tonight would be the one that he, Humping Dog, would become a man. He would capture the daughter of the Chief of the Bayogoulas.

  Long after all the members of his tribe were asleep, Humping Dog took his father's lance and crept down to the Mississippi. The youngster quietly untied a canoe and pushed off. The rapid current tried to push him south of the Bayogoula camp. He used every bit of strength in his wiry teenage body to keep the canoe on track.

  When he reached the eastern bank, Humping Dog’s nerves almost failed. The moon cast long shadows from the cypress and willow trees. An owl screeched from his low perch. To the boy's chagrin, he came ashore where the post stood. This marked the boundary between the tribes. To trespass beyond the post would mean certain death if caught. Humping Dog possessed little bravery. Spiders scared him. Garter snakes scared him. Sounds in the night scared him. He gained two feet from the canoe and turned to go back to safety.

  Then he remembered seeing Spotted Doe. He stopped. Nothing could keep him from claiming the prize of a lifetime. He imagined the reception he would receive among the tribal elders after securing Spotted Doe. Not to mention the newfound respect. He turned back around and stalked up the bank. As silently as a feather floating through the air, the aspiring warrior crept through the dense vegetation. The only sound came from his pounding heart.

  He stayed off the beaten trail. Did not want to meet a real warrior on his way to the camp. Every nerve in Humping Dog's body tingled with excitement and fear.

  After twenty long minutes, he approached the perimeter of the village. Peaking around a huge live oak, Humping Dog immediately sensed something was wrong. The Bayogoulas were not the only ones in the camp. He saw several fair-skinned men in strange clothing asleep by the fires. He had no way of knowing that these men were part of a French expedition led b
y Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville that came to map the Mississippi River Valley.

  d'Iberville found the village after over a month of exploration. He bought the chief's favor with flashy trinkets, blankets, and steel knives.

  Humping Dog again felt the urge to abandon the mission and return to the safety of the west bank. But then he saw the tepee belonging to Spotted Doe. As the chief's daughter, she had the privilege of privacy. Her dwelling sat apart from all others. The youngster knew she would be alone.

  Creeping forward on all fours to the rear of Spotted Doe's tent, Humping Dog could barely breathe. His efforts came in gasps. Though he was making noise inhaling this way, he could not help himself. He was now beyond the point of no return.

  With his father's lance, Humping Dog cut a slit in the deerskin tepee. He parted the two sides and saw the unblemished face of the most beautiful girl. For a few seconds, he completely forgot to breathe at all.

  After regaining a bit of his composure, Humping Dog crawled into the tent. He placed one hand over Spotted Doe's mouth and nestled the tip of the lance against her throat. The maiden's deep, intelligent eyes popped open. She started to scream, then reconsidered when the boy pushed the tip of the blade further against her smooth skin. The cold steel caused her lips to quiver.

  Humping Dog spoke softly in his own dialect, not too different from that of the neighboring tribe. The words, if she understood them, did little to calm the trembling girl. Even though Spotted Doe shivered in a state of animated terror, he thought she was the most beautiful creature on earth. What a hero he would be when he returned with such a valuable prize.

  He pulled the girl through the slit in the back of the tent and motioned for her to walk toward the Mississippi. Wobbly legs barely supported Spotted Doe, and she stumbled after taking only a dozen steps. Humping Dog reached down to help her up when he sensed another presence.

  One fair-skinned stranger stood between the pair of youngsters and the river. The man hitched up his long trousers with a curious gaze at the young Houma warrior. When his eyes shifted to Spotted Doe, the Frenchman's expression changed. He immediately picked up a funny-looking iron stick and pointed it at Humping Dog.

  The young Indian laughed. A silly short stick against his father's sharp lance was no contest. Only the presence of others sleeping nearby kept Humping Dog from taunting the stranger. He leveled the lance and charged. To his surprise, the stick erupted with thunder and lightning. The fire from the jolt of lightning struck his pelvis, crushing it into tiny pieces.

  Humping Dog had never experienced such agony before. Unfortunately for him, it was only the beginning of the pain and misery that he would experience that dreadful night.

  A few minutes after sunup, Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville walked down to the mighty Mississippi with his newest gift, the beautiful daughter of the chief of the Bayogoulas. The old chief appreciated d'Iberville's efforts the previous night to save Spotted Doe and the pride of the whole Bayogoula tribe from a raid by the Houma warrior so much that he gave him his most prized possession, the hand of his daughter. The humiliation of losing his daughter to the neighboring tribe would have been unbearable.

  The young maid cringed at the sight before them. Even the battle-hardened d'Iberville winced when he looked at the severed head of Humping Dog adorning the top of the pole that marked the boundary. The young man's blood covered the entire length.

  From that point on, Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville referred to that site along the Mississippi River as Baton Rouge. In English, the phrase translated to Red Stick. Humping Dog's blood was not the last to be shed in this beautiful land along the great river. The descendants of d'Iberville contributed their own bloodstains.

  Present Day

  Baton Rouge

  Saturday Night

  Baton Rouge

  Juliette d'Iberville had it all. She possessed a natural beauty that no woman could buy or any doctor sculpt. Long coal-black hair. Unblemished cream-colored complexion that was so smooth no wrinkles could penetrate. Symmetrical hour-glass body lusted after by men and envied by women. Powerful long legs. High cheek bones. A gracious smile.

  As a descendant of Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville and Spotted Doe, Juliette inherited the most envied features that passed through generations. The best of them came to fruition in the young beauty.

  Juliette won the Miss Teen contest in Louisiana. Then she won Miss Teen America, Miss Louisiana, and Miss America. Her picture appeared in fashion magazines, newspapers and television spots regularly. She blossomed as a feature speaker for national and local social functions and became a fixture at the most prestigious charity events.

  The cream-skinned beauty also had stature. People knew her heritage, a descendant of the famous explorer and his striking Indian wife. They also knew her father, George, the governor of Louisiana. Before that, he held offices as a United States congressman and senator. Already, despite her age, rumors persisted that Juliette was next in line of the d'Iberville dynasty as a political dynamo in the Pelican State.

  Tonight, Juliette felt unspeakable joy. More so on this day than any time in her blessed life. At a gathering of family and friends that ended only moments before, Dalton Bridgestone asked Juliette for her hand in marriage. With her father and mother looking on, the young senator knelt on the carpet of the condo and popped the question. Bridgestone, the most eligible bachelor in Louisiana, would become her husband. How could life get any better?

  She was standing on the balcony of the luxurious condominium overlooking the mighty Mississippi River when she heard a light rustling behind her. Was it a guest who left an item at the party? Was it Dalton returning? She hoped for the latter.

  She could not have been more wrong.

  Saturday Night

  Baton Rouge

  Macy Harden thought her day had been exciting. Little did she know that the previous activities were mere props for the coming event.

  The widow could not go to sleep. Not with the events of the evening still dancing through her mind. The elderly widow attended the party across the hall in the condo complex. She witnessed her United States senator propose to the governor's daughter. She and Juliette had become close acquaintances since the dark-skinned beauty moved into the same building. They often shared tea or coffee while discussing all the political events of the state capitol.

  Macy's husband, Hank, served as a state congressman until he had a massive coronary on the floor of the capitol building while arguing against coastal erosion. Her invitations to the balls and galas that she loved became more scarce as time passed. When Hank was alive, they never missed one. Now she was lucky to attend two a year. And then she felt out of place with all the other couples in attendance. Even with that discomfort, she longed for inclusion.

  That was why this was such a good evening. Juliette invited her to attend the private gathering with the elite of Baton Rouge. She was only a few feet from Dalton when he knelt to propose. Macy had not felt so alive in years. What a story she could tell her other widowed friends at the bridge party. They would be so envious.

  A sound from across the hall brought Macy out of her thoughts into the present. More like a gasp or a cry for help. The old widow was not immune from curiosity. She crept to the door and cracked it open just an inch or two.

  At first she saw nothing. Then Dalton Bridgestone burst from Juliette's condo. The initial thought Macy considered was that he had returned and asked for the ring back. She had no basis for these thoughts, but they were the first to enter her mind.

  Then she saw the bloody knife in his hand. He looked up at her with wild eyes. She could not read his expression. Macy could not move. She wanted to. Her body refused. Bridgestone stopped in the middle of the hall. He looked over his shoulder at Juliette's door. To Macy's surprise, he dropped the knife in the middle of the hallway. Then he sprinted for the stairs.

  Early Sunday Morning

  Baton Rouge

  John d'Iberville gasped at the sight before him. The detective
with the East Baton Rouge Sheriff's department stared at his cousin's dead body. The vibrancy that once defined Juliette abandoned the lifeless corpse. Her frame, though still spectacular, was an empty shell. He knelt down beside her, ignoring all the forensic techs in the room.