Amazon Cajun books by LaVergne Cajun Books By LaVergne Category:  Action/Thriller Publisher: Publish America ISBN-10:  159286726x Pages: 204 Copyright: March 2002 Detective Joe Bihm hunts for a serial killer in Houston Texas. Detective Joe Bihm walked into police headquarters on Reisner Street slowly he went to his desk. He sat in his creaky chair then opened the bag containing his usual healthful breakfast of doughnuts. As he munched on the sweet pastry he thought how good a cigarette would taste but tree hugging right wing wackos, in cahoots with do gooder assholes, had taken away his right to pollute his own lungs. Sipping his lukewarm coffee and looking around his ‘office’, he realized he was the only officer in the room. “Oh shit.” He thought. “Did I forget another damn meeting?” Searching the surface of his amazingly messy desk, he found nothing concerning a meeting scheduled for that day. No memo. No note. Rising, he walked to the back of the room and into the hall that led to the area usually used for briefings. Here, he and his fellow crusaders against crime, where brought up to date on current killings. Joe had been in homicide for seven years. Except for the last two years, he had the top clearance rate of any of the detectives in this assignment. Thirteen years in the Houston Police Department, Joe had risen from patrolman to homicide detective quickly. Lately, Joe had lain awake reflecting on his life, his career, and his loss. Walking into the large meeting room Joe spotted his partner, Max Boswell. Max stood talking with four or five other officers. As Joe neared the group, Max turned to him and said. “He did it again.” “Who did what?” Joe asked. “The bastard we’ve been trying to nail, the one who eats parts of his victims before he kills them, the Beast.” Explained Billy. “Oh, that guy.” Joe said, showing little interest. Tom McLemore, who looked like he had just stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine, wrinkled his nose as though he’d smelled something rotten. Turning to his partner, McLemore yanked his head to one side indicating, ‘follow me’. McLemore’s partner a notorious ass kisser named Robert D. Towns III, hurried to catch up with his partner, hero, and object of near worship. The two when seen side-by-side always prompted remarks such as ‘Mutt and Jeff’. McLemore was tall and slim, with a full head of perfectly coiffed hair. His dress was impeccable at all times and his suits hung on his body so perfectly, Joe had once remarked, that bastard, I bet that’s really his skin. Towns, was the exact opposite of the perfect McLemore. Town’s nose was large and had hair growing from it at different angles. His face was shaped like a bowling ball with wild unruly hair around the edges and he was already getting bald on top. His round figure caused him to look shorter than his five foot seven inch height. He always looked rumpled and he could ruin the look of a thousand-dollar handmade suit. As the two walked out of the room, Bihm finished his doughnut and turned to his partner. “What’s on for today?” He asked. “I’m taking Jim here with me to show him our territory.” Max answered. “Yeah, you mean we’re taking him?” “No, I’m taking him, you’re going to see Captain Martin. Didn’t you see the note I left on your desk?” “What note, hell, you know I can’t find shit on my desk.” “It was taped to the top of your typewriter, didn’t you see it? Jesus Joe, you were supposed to be in his office, umm, ten minutes ago.” Bihm glanced down at his watch and saw it was eight twenty five. “What does he want, do you know?” He asked Boswell. “Probably gonna suspend your sorry ass. Move your tail, man you’re skating on thin ice already. You don’t need any more static from the brass.” Shrugging his wide shoulders Bihm shuffled off walking casually to Captain Martin’s office. As he approached the desk, he eyed Captain Martin’s secretary the beautiful, mocha colored heart breaker, Clarissa Dooms. “Before I go in to hear I’m fired, would you marry me?” Asked Joe. “Just what I need, an unemployed burnt out ex-policeman. Ask me again when you make Captain.” Joked Clarissa. “What’s on our esteemed leader’s mind this morning?” Smiling, Clarissa lowered her voice, bending close to Joe she whispered, “Did someone actually discover a mind in that hard, opinionated, one track skull? I don’t think so, you better get your butt into his office you’re already in enough hot water. He’s waiting for you with some of Houston’s elite and I don’t think he’s in a good mood.” Bihm wondered what she meant. What elite? Why would the captain want to see him, especially with some of Houston’s finer citizens in attendance? At least, he could be fairly certain, today wouldn’t be his last on the force. The last two years he knew he had been sleepwalking his cases. Expecting his next assignment would be ‘cold crimes’ or worse, he had waited for the axe to fall. He knocked then went in when he heard the command, “come.” Opening the door, he surveyed the room. Captain Martin was not behind his large expensive desk instead, he was seated along with two other people in the middle of his office. Even before he recognized the Captain’s visitors he knew they were very important. Captain Martin loved to sit in his large stuffed leather chair, lording over his minions. Bihm stood and waited. He recognized the two people in the Captain’s office, the Mayor’s wife, a lovely, slim lady, who looked twenty years younger than her age and the Mayor Pro Tem. He knew this was important. Jerri Deavers, Mayor Deaver’s wife of thirty-five years, was loved by most of Houston. A fine, cultured lady, she constantly worked for the betterment of the citizens of her town. Pictures in the local rag showed her nailing boards on houses and attired in an apron over her expensive dresses, handing out meals in the missions. She devoted a large portion of her time making sure that as many people as possible had the essentials of life. The amazing part was she really cared about people and these things were not done just for photo-ops. Her heart was as large as her husband’s belly. Mayor Deavers was in the first year of his second term. His re-election, all the pundits said, was credited to his wife. Jerri Deavers was a remarkable lady. Bihm had almost made her acquaintance back when her husband was merely a rich landowner and contractor. In Joe’s first year in homicide he had been assigned to a murder in the third ward. An unspoken understanding, even among black officers was you did not bust your butt over another killing among thieves, dopers, and other undesirable types living in the wards. Joe, too new, too young, and too on fire, had solved the murder. He had worked on his own time following leads and interrogating suspects. After closing that case he had received a phone call from Jerri Deavers. The elderly lady who had been murdered had worked for Mrs. Deaver’s family for years and Jerri had loved the kind lady who had mostly raised her. The Morton’s, Jerri's parents were jet setters, wealthy and prone to flying to Paris on a moments notice. On a whim they would hop into their private Lear jet and go to a favorite restaurant for a meal anywhere they wished. Mel Morton had been one of the wealthiest of many wealthy denizens living in the exclusive area with palatial palaces that is known as, Huge Oaks. The year Jerri graduated from The University of Texas, in Austin, her parent’s had pleaded she attend some place more prestigious, but she wanted UT, her parents died in a crash. They had flown to one of their obscenely wealthy friend’s mansion on Jekyl Island, off the coast of Georgia. Their plane made an unscheduled stop, into the Atlantic. Many of their friends wondered why Jerri Morton was essentially dried eyed at the memorial service. Jerri had been raised by a nanny, not by her parent’s who looked on their beautiful daughter as just another asset, Jerri from a very young age had been aware of exactly what her status in the family was. No bodies were found, so expensive, empty coffins were placed in the family vault. Six years ago Bihm had answered the phone in his small house in the Alief area. “Officer Joe Bihm?” A female voice had enquired. “Yes.” Joe answered. “This is Jerri Deavers.” “Yes ma’am.” Joe had replied, stunned. “I want to personally thank you for your fine work. Jenny Blouser was a dear lady. A friend I loved very much.” “Uh, yes, Ma’am.” “If ever I can be of any assistance, please let me know.” “Yes ma’am.” Putting down the phone, Joe was numb. His wife seeing his expression asked, “Was that the President, dear?” “Better than that, Jerri Deavers.” Joe answered, wonder on his face. “Jerri Deavers, Maxwell Deaver’s wife, the rich guy? Bullshit, who was it, really?” “I’m not kidding you, she thanked me for solving the murder of that old, black lady, Jenny Blouser.” Joe explained. “Why, why should she care about an old black lady?” Wondered Tilly, Joe’s wife. “I don’t know, she said the lady was her friend and that she loved her.” “Strange. I know she’s always doing her charity work all over town, but does she really care for old black people that much?” “I don’t know,” Said the still stunned Joe. Chapter three Now Joe stood before his Captain, the Mayor’s wife and Councilman Mack Jim Henson, Mayor Pro Tem. Henson was a tall, thin, black man. He’d made the rise to his present place, as one of the leading black voices of Houston, by accusing everyone of being biased against blacks. His youth had been misspent getting into trouble and he had even served minor time. Most of his youthful ‘indiscretions’ were misdemeanors. The felonies, he’d gotten away with. Captain Martin finally rose and made hasty introductions. Joe shook Henson's limp, moist paw and Mrs. Deaver’s firm, scented and lovely hand. The Captain and Henson quickly took their seats. There were no other chairs Joe could use, except for the Captain’s throne, so Joe knew he’d be standing for this little talk. Jerri stayed next to Joe and said, “I am so happy and privileged to finally meet you, Sergeant Bihm.” The unusual lady once again surprised Joe. “The privilege is entirely mine, ma’am,” He stammered. Jerri threw back her head and laughed. “I’d recognize that ma’am anywhere. Please call me Jerri.” “Yes ma’am, uh Jerri.” Said Joe. It distressed him to address the Mayor’s wife in that manner, especially in front of the two men who were staring at them with disbelief smeared all over their face. Both men thought, ‘Hell, she’s never told me to call her Jerri.’ Turning to Henson, Jerri asked if he would be so kind as to see if he could find her a coke. Fighting to keep resentment out of his voice and off his face, Henson said “Yes Mrs. Deavers.” Then walked out in search of a coke. “Please Officer Bihm, sit here.” Offered Jerri, pointing to the chair Henson had vacated. Puzzled, Bihm sat. The three, Captain Martin looking slightly pissed, Joe at a complete loss, and Jerri Deavers completely relaxed, sat and looked at each other. It seemed no one wanted to be the first to speak. Joe cleared his throat. Captain Martin rose then walked to his desk and sat in his own chair. “Sergeant Bihm, what are you currently working on?” He finally asked. “The KwikStop shootings on Richmond. A Pakistani was gunned down night before last. He seemed to have put up something of a struggle, the register had been emptied and the company’s district manager thinks some groceries were also taken. I also have a back log of other similar killings.” “Groceries, what type of groceries?” Asked the captain. “Cat food, mainly.” Shaking his head, the Captain looked at Jerri Deavers. “As you can see, Mrs. Deavers, Sergeant Bihm is working some very important cases.” Glancing over at the Mayor’s wife, Bihm admired the way she looked. She was wearing a striking blue pantsuit with matching accessories and the lady was beautiful. Her golden blonde hair was worn long and flowed around her shoulders. “Really, Captain Martin. I know any murder is important but I’m sure you have plenty of capable officers that can continue the follow up on these killings.” Jerri answered. “Yes, but it’s so important that the assigned officer stay with a case to it’s conclusion. Each detective gets a ‘first feel’ for a case. It’s difficult to pass that information to another investigator.” “I see.” Turning to Joe Bihm, Mrs. Deavers asked. “Sergeant Bihm, do you suppose you could pass on the details of this case to another officer, if need be?” Bihm was completely mystified by this conversation. What is taking place here, he wondered? Why was the wife of the Mayor, of the fourth largest city in the U.S., having this talk with his Captain? He sat and looked from the Captain to the Mayor’s wife, completely perplexed. Martin seemed extremely agitated and Joe could see he was working hard to keep himself in check. The Captain was known for having a short fuse. Not much aggravation was needed to cause Martin to explode and pity any one in his path when that happened. Martin had been Captain of the Homicide Division for a little over a year having been hand picked by his predecessor, Chief Carl Dinsmore. Dinsmore, sometimes known as Dumbsmore, from the time he went through the academy, had his sights set on Police Chief and had risen through the ranks riding the coattails of better police officers. He had been lucky being at the right place at the right time. Often, when a team apprehended a criminal, Dinsmore found a way to take the credit. His pick, Captain Martin, was an even poorer example of a good investigator. Most of Martin’s investigations had been done on fellow officers, out of Internal Investigations Command. Bihm knew all this and could not have cared less since he had never cared for politics. All he’d cared about was being a good patrolman and as he advanced doing the best job possible in the position he was occupying. In homicide, he had spent long hard hours improving his craft and solving cases. Since his loss, he didn’t give a damn about much of anything. Now he sat, watching two of the powerful of Houston discussing him as though he wasn’t present in the ro    Excerpt Chapter one Three A.M. The time when the body and soul are at the lowest ebb. When armies attack, babies awake, crying, and the Beast feeds. The Beast looked down at his latest victim. He stood over the corpse, blood smeared on his face and dripping from his mouth, mixed with saliva, onto the torn body lying at his feet. The last shudder of his climax shook the Beast. For a few seconds, a deep feeling of lassitude overcame his senses. Shaking away the after effect, the Beast slowly walked away.

Houston Beast
Tanis
Michigan (6/14/2007) A wonderful mystery story with many twists and turns to keep a reader interested. I couldn't put it down. A sequel would be great!



Houston Beast
Mitchell
California (4/6/2005) Enjoyed the book thoroughly! A murder mystery that keeps you reading, eagerly anticipating what's coming up next, but hoping the story doesn't end. As a former Houstonian I really appreciated the author's colorful descriptions of the various locations within the city. His words transformed me back to those locations that I was familiar with, but had not been to in a long time. The true mark of a well written story...it allows the reader to take a trip, and never leave the room.


Houston Beast
. Ryan
Texas, USA (8/13/2003) Houston Beast is a gripping suspense. It is somewhat unusual and extreme, but anyone who likes reading Stephen King will love this book. Throughout the novel I wondered how (Mr. Lavergne) could possible resolve this bizarre mystery. When I did reach the end, I was surprised and amused. I though the end was clever - leaving the door open for a sequel, perhaps ??? Very Well Written. M.L. Ryan Texas City, TX