I waited for confirmation.  They both dropped their heads.

“He was found in an alley under a pile of garbage.  Nobody realized he was there because of the odor.  He must have been dead for a least a day before he was discovered by some employees taking out the trash,” said Chief Adelaide.

I shook my head and finished up the story.

“Later I made another contact with someone who knew how the hustlers operated and I told Coffy to stay clear because nobody in town knew I was a cop so I could move freely like a tourist.  Of course I told Coffy to follow me around at a distance for safety.  After we discovered Joppy dead, we searched the house.  I found this picture of Drexler, Shank, and Joppy inside the roll of toilet paper at Joppy’s house.  This picture connects him to both of these men.  Shank was ordered by Drexler to kill JP to keep him from talking.  Joppy turned down the order and figured he would protect himself by coming to the police later on with this photo of them with Joppy holding a Key of cocaine and if you notice the two men in the back of the photo are…”

“Officer Jones and Officer Davies!” exclaimed the chief.

The commissioner studied the photo also.  “But what about Officer Clements? Was he involved in any of this?”

“I believe Officer Clements died a true hero.  He had no connection to them.  I believe the traffic stop he made that night was an ambush because of all the riots in Baltimore and the suspects who did it may be connected to the CPDK gang out of Chicago.”

“CPDK?” asked the Commissioner.

“Chicago Police Department Killers.” I said.

He looked at the chief in amazement.  “We actually have idiots out there like that?”

“Yes sir--and I believe Clements died as a result of that traffic stop.”

“Okay,” said the commissioner, “so who killed Davies and Jones?”

“Drexler killed them both.  I have his confession on video.”

I downloaded the video to the chief’s phone, the Commissioner’s, and Coffy’s so that they could use it as evidence.

“The way I figure, Drexler was using the smoke screen of Clements murder, making you all think that there was some lunatic on the loose killing cops at random but it was him tying up loose ends.  They all, except Clements, were in on the distribution of dope in the city and were heavy on the take.

“Plus Shank is going to talk,” said Coffy.

The commissioner looked at us both and extended his hand.  “Well I suppose that wraps up everything.  You two did a great job!”

We shook hands and he and the chief walked to their car.  Santiago gave us both thumbs up.

Chapter 7

The headlines were on every network news channel in New Orleans and also blasting the front page of the newspaper:  Cop Killer Caught.  The story didn’t go into detail much but I kind of knew why.  It would be an embarrassment for sure if the public knew all of the truth.  The public couldn’t handle the truth.

My flight was leaving in an hour.  I decided to get me something quick from the hot bar in the restaurant.

“Good morning,” said a woman’s voice.

I turned to see Coffy removing her sunglasses and smiling at me.

“Well, good morning to you, too, I was just about to get something quick and be ready when you got here.”

I grabbed a napkin, some French bread, piled on some scrambled eggs and put some Creole sauce on top for a kind of breakfast po-boy.

We talked the whole ride to the airport.  Well, she talked, I ate, careful not to get that sauce on my shirt.

“Next time you come back to New Orleans, dinner is on me,” she said.

“We’ll see,” I said.  I grabbed my bags and closed her door.  “Take care, Jas.”

“You too, Jared.  Get home to that lucky wife of yours.  God, she is so lucky.”

Nice of her to say, but I wasn’t going to think about that.

The weather in Alabama was sunny, and not quite as hot as New Orleans.  I grabbed my bags off the baggage conveyor belt and almost skipped out the door.

My phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID.  It was Charlotte.

That ice water feeling formed in my gut again.

“Hey, baby!” she said, excited.

The ice water feeling subsided.

“Hey honey what’s up?”

“We heard all about how you caught that cop killer.  You are famous.  Also we have other news.  Burncutt was caught early this morning tried to car-jack an off duty deputy with a knife.  The deputy shot and killed him.”

“Wow,” I said.  “A lot has gone on both in New Orleans and here.”

“Oh yeah.” She tried to sound casual now.  “Speaking of New Orleans, Who is Detective Jasmine Coffy?”

“She is just a New Orleans cop.  Something about her kinda reminded me of you all the time I was there.  See you soon, Baby.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Atlanta Ripper

Beatrice Bishop ran as fast as she could; panting; bleeding; and scared for her life.  She felt herself getting weaker and her legs about to give out from under her.  But he was right there behind her, slowly walking like a hunter following the bloody trail to his kill.  She grabbed on to a tree to catch herself from falling.  She rested; heaving and trying to catch her breath.  She heard the sloshing of slow moving footsteps getting close to her.  She started running again; she didn’t know where she was.  It was dark and she was in the woods and every direction looked the same except from where the footsteps were coming from.  She then noticed a different sound.

This sound gave her hope and the motivation to keep going.  It was the screaming sound of heavy tires beating the asphalt.  She kept going until she seen the headlights and tail lights of fast moving vehicles.  It was a highway, she thought.  She screamed for help as she ran toward the roadway.  She threw her hands up, waving her arms and stepping out into the traffic.

“HELP!”  She stood in the path of a fast oncoming vehicle, which happened to have an off-duty police officer behind the wheel.  Me.  The car swerved and braked hard.  There was a thump and the car came to rest a few feet past the woman.

I looked over at Charlotte.  “Are you okay, honey?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she responded rubbing her belly, probably communicating with the little guy to assure him they were both all right.

“Go check on that person back there; they could be hurt bad.”  She knew I would anyway, but she was concerned.

“Okay, I‘ll go back there and you call the police and tell them there has been an accident; that a pedestrian was hit and we need an ambulance also at uhm…”  I looked around to find a mile-marker.  “Tell them we are at mile-marker 51 on interstate 20.”

I jumped out of the car and raced back to where the woman was lying on the ground.

Charlotte picked up her phone and dialed 911.  Other passing motorists saw what had happened and pulled over to assist as well.

She was lying face up.  “Miss, are you okay?” I yelled, lightly shaking the young woman.  I had to keep her awake if I could, and had to be gentle in case she had a serious injury.

Her breathing was shallow and she opened her eyes.  “Are you ok?”

Another motorist came over.  “Hey I’m a nurse, let me help.”

I backed out the way and pulled my badge out.  The woman saw it.  She tried to move and get my attention.

“She’s trying to say something!” said the nurse.

I leaned in to her.

She pointed at my badge and grabbed my ankle as if she was holding on for dear life.

“Yes I’m a Detective, what is it you want to say?” I asked softly.

She let go my ankle long enough to point toward the woods and then grabbed it again.  She held me with a death grip.