“No, nobody saw me. Gator hunting isn’t exactly a social affair. I got myself a sweet little honey hole, where there’s fish and a big gator that I’ve been after. Nobody goes to my place. It’s a matter of respect.”
“Did you catch the gator that night?” Luke asked. Daniel continued standing quietly and watching the emotions that played over Pierre’s features. His irritation was obvious not only on his facial features but in the rising tone of his voice as well.
“No, I didn’t get him that night or any night since, but sooner or later that big scaly bastard will be mine,” Pierre replied.
“So, you don’t really have any alibi for the night of Mystique’s murder,” Luke said flatly.
Pierre’s nostrils thinned and a narrow trickle of sweat escaped and ran down the side of his face. Before the three had arrived, Daniel had turned on the heat in the interview room to make it less pleasant.
“I already told you I loved that woman with all my heart and soul and I could never hurt her, let alone kill her,” Pierre said. “In all the years Mystique and I were together, I never laid a hand on her.”
“But you two were broken up at the time of her murder. Who called things off between the two of you? You or her?” Luke leaned even closer to the man, getting into Pierre’s personal space.
“She decided we needed a little time apart,” Pierre said after a long pause. “But that was nothing new with us. She’d kick me to the curb for a couple of weeks, and then we’d get back together. It’s like we were addicted to each other. We could never stay apart for very long.”
“Maybe this time she didn’t want to get back together with you. Maybe that night you went to speak with her and she told you she was done with you forever. That made you very angry and a physical altercation ensued and you wound up slitting her throat.”
“The hell you say,” Pierre replied angrily. He slammed a fist down on the table. “Dammit, that didn’t happen.” He stared down at the tabletop and drew several deep breaths. It was obvious he was trying to get his temper under control.
For the next thirty minutes or so Luke pressed Pierre hard. “Were you drinking on that night? Is it possible you killed her because you were drunk? Maybe blacked out?”
“Hell no,” Pierre replied. “I don’t drink when I’m gator hunting. What kind of a damned fool would do that?”
By this time Luke had been questioning the man for almost an hour. “Back off, Luke,” Clay said to his partner as part of the bad cop/good cop act. “Pierre, would you like some water or maybe a soda?”
The man released a deep, ragged sigh and swiped the sweat from his face. “A glass of water would be great.”
“Let me go get that for you.” Clay left the room and returned a moment later with a cold bottle of water. Pierre took it from Clay, cracked it open and drank deeply.
He then offered Clay a grateful smile. “Thanks, man.”
The questioning went on for another half an hour with Luke pressing the man hard, and Clay telling his partner to back off. But despite the aggressive questioning, Pierre stuck to his story—that he hadn’t even seen Mystique on the night of her murder.
“That was pretty much a waste of time,” Daniel said once Pierre had left the room to go back to the swamp.
“Did you pick up anything on his facial features that might tell you he’s lying?” Clay asked.
“Not really, but what I did see was a lot of repressed anger. As far as I’m concerned, he’s still our number one suspect,” Daniel replied. “But all we have right now is a very weak circumstantial case against him, and I don’t believe Jackson will take on the case as it stands right now.”
Jackson Scott was the district attorney. Generally, he was a good friend of law enforcement, but he ruled strictly by the book, and there just wasn’t enough here for him to want to take on the case.
“At least we now have his fingerprints, thanks to the bottle of water we gave him,” Luke said.
“Yeah, but so far we have nothing to compare them to,” Clay replied.
“That could change once we get things back from the lab,” Luke said.
“Maybe we need to go back to the swamp and find out who Pierre runs with. He might not drink when he’s gator hunting, but maybe he has some friends he drinks with when he’s not hunting. Perhaps he told one of his buddies about the murder,” Daniel said thoughtfully.
“Then why hasn’t anyone come forward?” Clay asked.
“You know those gator hunters hang tight with each other, and they have a general distrust of law enforcement,” Daniel said. “Still, I think it’s best if we spend the afternoon talking to as many of the gator hunters as we can find.”
Daniel looked at his watch. “Why don’t we break for lunch now and meet back here at one o’clock.” It was now a quarter after twelve. “At that time, we’ll head back into the swamp and hopefully find someone who Pierre trusted with all his secrets.”
“Sounds like a good plan. I’m heading to The Burger Joint. Do you want me to pick you up something?” Clay asked.
“Yeah, just get me the usual,” Daniel replied. The usual was a double cheeseburger and fries.
