Murder & Billy Bailey Read online

  Murder & Billy Bailey

  Niki Dupre Mysteries Book 3

  Jim Riley

  Contents

  1. Friday Nght

  2. Monday afternoon

  3. East Baton Rouge Parish Jail

  4. East Baton Rouge Parish Jail

  5. Louisiana State Courthouse

  6. Baton Rouge

  7. Frank’s

  8. Central High School

  9. Central High School

  10. Central

  11. Central

  12. Blackwater Road

  13. Sherwood Forest

  14. Zachary

  15. Central

  16. Central

  17. Baton Rouge

  18. Sherwood Forest

  19. Baton Rouge

  20. Central High School

  21. Niki's townhome

  22. Wildcat Investigations

  23. Central

  24. Amber Lakes subdivision

  25. Central High School

  26. Central High School

  27. Wildcat Investigations

  28. Central

  29. Central

  30. Central

  31. Baton Rouge

  32. Central High School

  33. Central

  34. Sheriff's Substation

  35. Central

  36. Wildcat Investigations

  37. Central High School

  38. Baton Rouge

  39. Baton Rouge

  40. Blackwater Road

  41. Central High School

  42. Greenwell Springs Road

  43. State Courthouse

  44. Central High School

  45. Central High School

  46. Central

  47. Central High School

  48. Central

  49. Lane Memorial Hospital

  50. Central

  51. Central

  52. Central

  53. Zachary

  54. Central

  55. Central

  56. Louisiana State Courthouse

  57. Blackwater Road

  58. Central High School

  59. Central

  60. Zachary

  61. Central High School

  62. Linda's Fish & Chicken

  63. The Maze

  64. Central

  65. The Maze

  66. Watson

  67. Central High School

  68. Central

  69. Blackwater Road

  70. Central

  71. Central

  72. Central

  73. Home of Billy Bailey

  74. Baton Rouge Courthouse

  75. Atchafalaya Basin

  76. Wildcat Investigations

  77. Zachary

  78. Central

  79. Baton Rouge

  80. Atchafalaya Basin

  81. Niki's townhome

  82. Niki’s Townhome

  83. Niki's townhome

  84. Blackwater Road

  85. Central High School

  Dear Reader

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  Copyright (C) 2021 Jim Riley

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

  Published 2021 by Gumshoe – A Next Chapter Imprint

  Edited by Flatworld

  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.

  1

  Friday Nght

  Bill Billy Bailey watched film with the quarterback and receivers of Central High School's epic win over the top ranked Zachary Broncos the past Friday night. The comeback win marked the most important victory in his tenure as head coach.

  At only twenty-eight years old, many questioned his credentials for the position. That win over Zachary quieted most of those critics. The crowd roared onto the field after the game, astounded at the turnaround in the football program over the course of one season.

  Three quarterbacks and eight receivers joined the Bailey and Jimbo Wax, the offensive coordinator, in the film room this Monday afternoon. Mistakes had been made and for the Central Wildcats to go far into the playoffs, those must be corrected and eliminated.

  The door burst open.

  "Hey, you can't come in here," Bailey said, shielding his eyes from the bright lights in the hallway.

  "Coach, I believe we can."

  Bailey recognized the Sheriff's deputy that was talking.

  "Arnette, what is this all about?"

  "Bill Bailey, you are under arrest for the rape and carnal knowledge of a minor."

  Bailey gasped, not believing his ears. The two deputies grabbed him, one by each arm, and hurled him against the wall. Arnette slapped the cuffs on his wrists. They dragged him out of the room.

  "Jimbo, call my wife. Call Sara Sue."

  Monday afternoon

  Sheriff's office

  Less than an hour later, Bailey wore an orange and white striped jumpsuit, emblazoned with the letters EBRSO stitched across the back. Those were the initials for the East Baton Rouge Parish Sheriff's office. He received his Miranda rights and was strip-searched prior to donning his present attire.

  "What is this all about? What is going on here?" He asked of every officer within hearing.

  They ignored him. Bailey had never been arrested before. The worst offense the coach ever committed was forgetting to put on his turn signal. He got a warning, but no ticket.

  The coach settled and sat quietly in the jail cell. He wondered why he was in a cell by himself. The one adjoining his held six prisoners, each clad in the same orange and white jumpsuit he wore. This was the first time that Billy could remember he had absolutely nothing to do.

  He looked at the stark furnishings. A stainless toilet with a water tap on top. The steel bed with an ultra-thin mattress had more stains and holes that solid covering. A single sheet rolled up on one end of the bed was too short for his 6'4" frame.

  The tinted window to the outside was only four inches wide with steel grating stretching from the top to the bottom. He could see it was still daylight outside, but could discern no shapes.

  Billy thought about Sara Sue. What did she think when told of the charges? They were high school sweethearts, both attending Denham Springs High School, less than fifteen minutes from Central.

  Sara Sue was the head cheerleader, captain of the softball team, and star of the girls’ basketball team. Bailey played the three major sports, earning all–state awards as the quarterback for the football team and ace pitcher for the Yellow Jacket's baseball team.

  They both attended LSU, Bailey earning a degree in kinesiology and Sara Sue getting her degree in the entrepreneur program. He wanted to coach, and she wanted to own a personal business. After graduation, she started a temporary employment agency, furnishing workers ranging from warehouse laborers to accountants.

  The couple had no children, opting to get their careers established before parenthood. They began talking about a family, even discussing potential names for their children.

  Now the rising star in the high school coaching ranks sat in a dark and smelly cell with his career and his marriage in jeopardy. He taught Sunday School at the Baptist Church at the corner of Joor and. Hooper.

  What would the seventh grade boys in his class think? What would the football players he loved and coached think about the man who always stressed character a
nd integrity over all other traits?

  His future—Wait, what future? Was twenty years behind bars at the state prison in Angola considered a future? Bailey realized why he was in a cell by himself. He had heard stories about what happened to rapists and child molesters in prison. He was about to live that story unless he was separated for his own safety.

  Bailey tried to lie on the steel cot. There was no comfortable position for his tall body in the short bed. The room was cold. Frigid cold. The short-sleeved jumpsuit provided almost no warmth. Billy pulled thin sheet over him and closed his eyes.

  The coach tried to make sense of the day's events. Who had accused him of rape? Who had accused him of having carnal knowledge? Was it the same girl? Was it a girl? Could he afford bail? He and Sara Sue had sunk what little savings they had into Sara Sue's business.

  The Wildcats Temporary Agency was only beginning to turn cash flow positive, generating a little more revenue than operating costs. It was not in a financial position to afford the hefty requirements of bail.

  Then two deputies appeared outside the cell. They replaced the handcuffs and put leg irons on each ankle. He shuffled between them to a small conference room. The deputies put a belly chain around the coach and fastened it to a link under the table.

  They left him without explaining the move. Then he heard people approaching. He twisted much as he could with the constraints restricting any movements. Sara Sue came in, mascara running down her cheeks. A tall, elderly gentleman dressed in an expensive blue suit followed her.

  3

  East Baton Rouge Parish Jail

  Sara Sue stepped toward Billy to hug her husband, but a grunt from a guard stopped her.

  "No contact with the prisoner," he said.

  "I'm sorry," she said through her tears.

  She sat in a chair on the other side of the table with the gray-haired gentleman. The elder fellow addressed the guards.

  "I would like to have privacy with my client, please."

  Even though he stated it in non-–threatening terms, the guards quickly assented and left the room.

  "Honey," Sara Sue began. "This is Durwin Kemp. He is the best lawyer in the state."

  Bailey, through reflex, tried to extend his hands, but the restraints prevented him from raising them.

  "It's okay," Kemp said. "We aren't supposed to make contact, anyway. I'm pleased to meet you."

  "Look, Mr. Kemp. I don't know what you charge, but I know that we can't afford you. I'm on a high school coach's salary, and Sara Sue is just getting her business off the ground. We don't have a lot of money."

  Kemp's smile never left his face. But in his eyes, there was a steely focus, like a panther right before it struck its prey.

  "I hate to tell you this, Bill. You can't afford not to have my services in the position you find yourself."

  "But—" Billy protested.

  "It's okay, Honey," Sara Sue interrupted. "I’m taking care of it."

  Billy was incredulous.

  "How? Where did you get the money?"

  "Niki Dupre is helping us."

  In Billy's muddled mind, he recognized the name, but could not place it with an actual person.

  "Who?" He asked.

  “Niki Dupre. She’s the famous private investigator who solved the Spirit Island case.”

  "How does she know us?"

  "She's a client of mine. She is so busy she hires temps from me to type up her reports. She's wonderful. I want to introduce y'all when you get out."

  Kemp spoke. "Miss Dupre has agreed to pay my fees for your case for as long as you need me."

  Bailey shook his head. "How much are your fees?"

  Kemp glanced at Sara Sue. She nodded.

  "I charge one hundred thousand dollars for a retainer. That is only to assess the validity of the charges against you, and attempt to get you bail. OF course, any further actions on my part will require additional fees."

  "Of course," Bailey says sarcastically. He looked at his wife.

  "We can’t ever pay this back. We can't do it. What if I go to jail? How will you ever get that kind of money?"

  "Are you guilty?" Kemp asked.

  "No. Hell, no," Bailey shouted in the small room.

  "No need for profanity, Bill. I understand the English language. A simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice," Kemp said.

  "No. Is that simple enough? And don't call me Bill. I go by Billy. All my friends call me Billy. I preferred you called me that."

  "Okay, Billy. If you aren't guilty, why are you charged for these egregious acts?"

  “What egregious acts?” Billy asked. He turned to Sara Sue. “Baby, I can't let you go into debt like this. It has to be a simple mistake by somebody.”

  Sara Sue started to reach her hand across the table but pulled it back.

  "We aren't going into debt. I would if that is what it takes, but we don't have to do that."

  Confusion clouded Bailey’s face.

  Sara Sue continued, "Niki is paying for Mr. Kemp's services. Whatever they end up being, no strings attached."

  "Why? I don't even know her," he wondered.

  "But I do. I can't say that we are best friends, but she was in the office when the sheriff called. I didn't know what to do."

  Tears streaked down Sara Sue's face, the angst over their situation almost too much to bear.

  "I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry, but I still don't even know what I'm being accused of doing."

  Kemp cleared his throat.

  "Do you know a young lady by the name of—" Kemp checked the piece of paper from his briefcase. "Flavia Foster? Miss Foster is a student at Central High School. A senior. Age seventeen."

  "I know her. I mean, I know who she is. I've never had her in one of my classes. I teach trigonometry as well as coaching."

  "Do you often stay late at the school after football practice?" Kemp asked.

  "Every day. That is when I review film. I look at the day's practice and whatever tapes we have of our next opponent. That usually takes at least two hours."

  Sweat formed on Bailey’s brow. His hands, though constrained, shook.

  "Were you alone during these film sessions?" The attorney asked.

  "Most of the time. Sometimes Jimbo will stay and help me break down our opponent's schemes."

  "Jimbo?"

  Bailey explained. "Jimbo Wax. He's our offensive coordinator and assistant head coach. He's very good at spotting trends based on formations."

  "I don't understand, Mr. Bailey. I was not a member of a football team. What do you mean?"

  Bailey sighed, wanting to return to the conversation about the charges against him. But the lawyer was going through this methodically.

  "Formations. An offense can line up in several ways. The standard once was two wide receivers, a tight end, a fullback, and a running back. Five different skill positions plus the quarterback."

  Kemp took notes and nodded but said nothing.

  "Now, teams will line up with any combination of those five skill positions. One of the most popular is three wide receivers, a tight end, and a running back. Though they may be five wideouts and no running backs."

  "Okay," the attorney said, indicating for Billy to continue.

  "The quarterback can take a snap under the center, standing right behind the guy who snaps the ball or he may back up and take it. If he backs up, that's called a shotgun formation."

  "Sounds complicated. I would imagine all these different formations can cause a bit of confusion for the opposing team," Kemp said.

  Bailey chuckled.

  "To say the least, that's where Jimbo helps. In high school, when a team lines up in one particular formation or another, they tend to run certain plays from the different formations. If we know which play the opposing team will run, then we can adjust our defense to stop it."

  "Fair enough." Kemp flipped to the next page of his tablet. "Did anyone else join you in the film sessions?"

  "Sure. Sometimes one or more of
the players volunteered to stay. I really don't encourage their participation, though. It’s more important for them to keep up with their studies."

  "Anyone else?" Kemp asked.

  Billy became frustrated. "Look, if you have a question, then ask it. Quit beating around the bush."

  "All right. Did Miss Foster ever accompany you in these film sessions?" Kemp did not look up from the tablet in front of him.

  "What?" Below blurted. "Why would a cheerleader want to watch film of our opposition? Are you crazy?"

  Kemp remained calm. "So, you are aware that Miss Foster is a cheerleader at the school. I thought you said previously that you did not know the young lady."

  "I said I didn't know her well. I damn sure know that she's a cheerleader. I have eyes and I have a brain."

  Kemp was nonplussed. "Do you know the names of all the members on the cheerleading squad?"