Blood Game: A Jock Boucher Thriller by David Lyons

Author:David Lyons [Lyons, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers, Political, Contemporary, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction
ISBN: 9781451629323
Amazon: 145162932X
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 2013-08-13T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

THE NEXT WORKDAY WAS uneventful. Boucher realized he’d had too few days like this lately. Mildred was also appreciative of a return to routine. At day’s end, she stood in the doorway of his office to say good night.

“Your Honor, please tell me you are going straight home to do nothing but rest this evening.”

“Mildred, I would be lying if I told you that. I am going to pay a call on a drug dealer who tried to kill me. After I’ve visited him, then, yes, I will be going home and to bed early. Thank you for your concern.”

“Your Honor, empathy has its limits.” She gave a little sigh. “But I guess little harm can come to you in a jail, as long as you remember on which side of the bars you belong. Good evening, Judge.”

He smiled and nodded. A few minutes later, he locked up and took the elevator down to the main lobby. A federal marshal manning the metal scanner called to him. “Judge Boucher, I was asked to tell you, there’s a parking space for you now. Please use it tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Hallelujah. His assigned parking space. It was better than a presidential citation. He walked to the public lot for the last time, got in his pickup, and drove to the Quarter. Fitch had pulled strings to get Pip into a cell at the Eighth District, rather than lose him both literally and figuratively in the bowels of the midcity Orleans Parish Prison, the subject of horrendous claims of inmate maltreatment for years. Boucher was shown to the cell. Fitch was out on a call, expected back soon. Boucher asked for the cell to be unlocked. The custodian looked at him like he was crazy, but Fitch had left orders: the judge was to be given carte blanche. The door was opened, and Boucher stepped in the cell, closing it behind him. “Pip?”

The prisoner was on his bunk, his face to the wall. He turned and looked over his shoulder, then sat up.

“I just wanted you to know that we’ve done some checking, and we think you told us the truth,” Boucher said.

“You thought I made up that shit?”

“I believe you now.”

“Does that change anything? My brother’s still dead.”

“Your brother died because he abused his body. You want to change things? Then stop living the self-destructive life he did. Where he is now, he’s regretting what he did to himself, and he wants something better for you.”

Pip stood up, glaring at Boucher. “Don’t you start that hosanna shit with me, ’cause that dog won’t hunt. ‘Where he is now,’ ” he spat. “What does that mean? Where is he now? Nobody told me what y’all did with my brother. Did you bury or burn him? What was the cheapest and quickest way for the city to get rid of the body of someone they forgot a long time ago? I know one thing—where he is now, he don’t have to worry about bugs in

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