Cogent

Chapter One The air was muggy in the county Sheriff's office on the hot Louisiana summer day. June and July had flown by relatively fast as Jack Cogent had diligently worked on the case assigned to him. Cogent had put his heart and soul into the investigation, working long hours into the night. He was not only industrious but smart. However, these qualities went unnoticed by his superiors. Cogent appeared clumsy at times and came off as somewhat uncultivated to his peers, with disheveled mannerisms. He had spent his entire career investigating and solving crimes in the area. Cogent was a very tenacious detective. He never missed a beat. Cogent flipped off the light as he stood at the doorway of the dimly lit office, looking back at the stack of papers on the desk relating to the case he had worked so hard on. The desk would now be assigned to another detective. Cogent grabbed the crate that was packed with the scant amount of his personal belongings. He was in a sour mood, as he had just received his walking papers. Just one more month, and he could have solved the homicide. Cogent now regretted getting personally involved in the case. He felt a deep sense of remorse. Things could have turned out differently for him if Madison Southworth just hadn't tempted him. Cogent had met Madison through a mutual friend. Madison had been caught tampering with evidence at the crime scene. The Sheriff had found out about the affair between Cogent and Madison. Cogent just couldn't resist the allure of Madison. He had lost his focus on the case as she distracted him. And this now cost him his career. He was busted. The Sheriff had been looking for a reason to get rid of Cogent. And this was the perfect setup. Cogent had no way of knowing that the southern beauty was involved in the case. He not only felt sorry for her but also was captivated by her. The Sheriff sauntered down the hallway toward Cogent. He stopped and extended his hand to Cogent. Cogent turned his head away. He couldn't face the man who had just fired him. Cogent was angry with the Sheriff. He knew the Sheriff could have helped him if he had wanted to. There had always been somewhat of a rivalry between the two. The Sheriff had always felt intimidated by Cogent for some reason. Now the Sheriff stood with his shoulders erect and a smirk on his face. Cogent could sense the Sheriff's haughtiness, and he resented it. Cogent pulled the door to and briskly walked away. Cogent drug his feet as he proceeded across the blacktopped parking lot to his car. He didn't have anywhere to go now. It was early in the evening, and he didn't know what to do with himself. He hadn't had a night off in years. What would he do at this stage of the game? He was forty-four. This was too late to start a new career. Besides, Cogent didn't know anything but investigative work. That had been his dream. From the time he graduated from the police academy, he knew that his passion was investigating crimes. He begrudgingly scooted into the driver's seat. He rested his hands on the hot steering wheel and hung his head. He shook off the feeling for the moment and started the old car. He decided to stop off at the local tavern. He had never been a drinker. He never had any time for that. Cogent sauntered into the tavern. It was a dive. The stench of alcohol overtook him. He sat at the bar and placed his drink order. The bartender was adept at reading people and knew Cogent was despondent. He poured Cogent a drink and asked him if he wanted to talk. Cogent shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something as he took a gulp of the strong drink. The bartender began wiping the shiny bar with his damped cloth. “Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen,” the bartender reassured Cogent. The bartender had heard it all before but made a convincing attempt to appear interested in Cogent's plight. Cogent sat quietly for a few minutes and then decided to take the bartender up on his offer. “I used to be a private investigator at the Sheriff's department. Until today, that is,” Cogent began his story with a dejected tone. “How's that?” the bartender feigned his interest in the memoir. “I got fired, that's all,” Cogent proceeded to recant the entire story to the bartender. This was therapeutic for him, in a way. Cogent had a lot of anger bottled up inside, and it felt good to get a stranger's take on it. He sat at the bar most of the evening, visiting with the bartender. Cogent elaborated on how he had met the twenty-eight-year-old beauty and how she had become involved with his work. The bartender continued to pretend to listen intently, although he didn't hear half of what Cogent had said. Cogent left the bar around ten o'clock and drove home. When Cogent arrived home, there was a message on his answering machine. He reticently pushed the button to retrieve his message. It was Madison Southworth. She had gotten wind of his termination and wanted to speak with him. He reluctantly dialed her number. Madison wasn't home. He left a message on her answering machine that he had returned her call. He wondered what she was up to. Cogent had just broken off the relationship with Madison in an effort to salvage his career. Madison appeared to take the news hard. Cogent hated to let her go, but he knew the Sheriff was just itching to find something on him. Cogent had thought that he and Madison could take up where they left off once he had solved the case. He never anticipated that he would be fired over the affair. Cogent had tossed and turned all night. He had managed to dose off for a few hours out of sheer mental exhaustion. It was six a.m. He slowly crawled out of bed and rubbed his tired eyes. He went out to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. The pungent aroma of the coffee reminded him, once more, of the office. He meandered around the house for a time. He didn't know where to turn. He threw on his clothes and went out to the car. He decided to run uptown and get a newspaper. There it was! The front-page headline read, “Local man implicated in homicide investigation.” How could this be? Cogent wandered to himself. Cogent could not believe his eyes! He swallowed hard and looked at the words again. His first thought was that the Sheriff had leaked the news. The investigation had not been completed yet, and there was no way the newspaper could have gotten the news except through the Sheriff's department. Cogent knew the man was linked in connection to the crime. And he also knew the facts weren't lining up. Cogent's curious nature took over. He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed Bill Spence. Spence had been on the force for years. Spence was a rough cut but had a heart of gold. He and Cogent were close friends and had worked on several complex cases together. Spence would have an inside lead on what was going on. “Hello,” Spence answered in a light-hearted manner. He was in his patrol car and driving his usual route. “Bill, it's Jack. I just saw the headlines. What's happening with the case?” Cogent questioned him. “C'mon, Jack. You know I couldn't tell you anything even if I knew. If I said anything, Sheriff Lee would have my head on a platter!” Bill warned Cogent. “You know I worked hard on that case. I think I am entitled to a little something here!” Cogent persisted. “Jack, give it up! You don't work for the Sheriff's department anymore. Remember? By the way, I am sorry...” Bill didn't know what to say. He knew Cogent was hurting. Bill recalled the way Cogent's face lit up every time he was nearing the end of a case. “Forget it!” Cogent said in a terse tone and abruptly ended the call. He shoved his cell phone back into his jacket pocket and resumed reading the newspaper. Cogent attempted to get his mind off the case. He skipped to the want ads. He eyed an advertisement for a private investigator at a local firm in Metairie. There have been plenty of these jobs since the hurricanes hit. As people had moved out, the businesses were building back up and needed qualified people. Cogent still, after all, had his PI license. He needed a job. Cogent wasn't a man to just sit around. And he knew the area well, being born and raised in New Orleans. He circled the ad and headed off to the agency. “Yes, sir, may I help you?” the neatly attired receptionist said in a welcoming tone as Cogent approached the desk of the Detective Agency. “Yeh, I'm here about the PI job,” Cogent informed the receptionist. “Well, we will need for you to complete some preliminary paperwork first. And I need to make a copy of your license, Sir,” the receptionist explained as she handed him the application packet. “Thanks,” Cogent said in an unenthusiastic manner as he grabbed the paperwork and sat down in the plush velvet chair of the reception area. Cogent resented this. He knew he was capable of doing more than what this job entailed. A few days ago, he was working on big cases, and now he had to resort to this. He completed the paperwork and handed it to the receptionist. “That's fine. Thank you. We have arranged for an interview for you tomorrow,” the receptionist handed him the appointment card with the information on it. Cogent couldn't resist driving by the Sheriff's office. He drove by slowly and glanced in the windows. All was abuzz, as usual. Spence was getting in his car. Cogent pulled up next to the car and stopped. “Don't even start it. Please, Jack. I really don't want the Sheriff to see me talking to you out here like this!” Bill Spence attempted to dismiss Cogent. “I was just going to say hello,” Cogent replied in a dejected manner. “Yeh, I know. So, hello and goodbye, Jack,” Bill said as he climbed into the patrol car and sped off. Cogent took off and headed toward the crime scene. He couldn't help himself. He still wondered if he had missed something on the case. He drove to the river where the old woman had drowned. She was bludgeoned to death and then drowned in the river. The case continued to haunt him. Something wasn't right. Who had wanted her dead? And why? He continued to ask himself questions. It was like he was never off the case. Cogent had interviewed several people in the region. He had questioned all the victim's friends and relatives as well as completed background checks on all of them. Nothing had really checked out. The only thing that made sense was that the old lady had been very affluent. There had been a string of these murders in the area. Cogent had not had time to check court documents yet. He decided to head to the courthouse to do a little more research. Besides, these were public documents, and the Sheriff could not stop him from looking at them. The secretary at the courthouse, Beatrice Crump, knew Cogent well. She greeted him in her usual friendly manner as he made his way up the granite staircase of the rotunda. The old building smelled musty. It had been decorated ornately in the 'old style' tradition and managed to fare quite well through the hurricanes. Cogent felt right at home in the courthouse. He knew his way around and requested to see any records pertaining to Lydia Secrest. Cogent pretty much had free rein to peruse through any documents available at the courthouse in the line of duty. “What happened to her, Jack?” the document secretary asked inquisitively. She was the nosey type and liked to find out all the gossip. She had no inkling that Cogent had been released from his duties. “I'm not really sure yet,” Cogent said as he pulled out his glasses and began leafing through the documents. Cogent forgot his troubles for the moment and began to absorb all the information, on the documents, like a sponge. He had an eye for detail. This was what made him a great detective. He took note that the victim had been related to some of the local law enforcement. That intrigued him as some of the other victims had also been related as well. He wondered if there had been a correlation with the common denominator in this case. His next step would be to check out the backgrounds of some of the relatives. He would not let any detail go unchecked. Cogent requested birth and death records on a few of the victims of associated cases. The document secretary looked at him with a raised brow. “Now, don't go jumping to conclusions,” Cogent warned the secretary. He knew her wheels were spinning too, as she handed him the records. Cogent quickly took some notes and handed the documents back to her. “What did you find out?” the secretary quizzed Cogent. “Nothing, really,” Cogent made light of the situation in an effort to dispel the secretary's interest in the case. He didn't want her talking to the Sheriff or asking too many questions. Cogent exited the courthouse and made his way out to the parking lot. He fumbled with the key to the old jalopy. He heard another car door open and noticed the Sheriff getting out of the patrol car a lane over. The Sheriff made a bead on Cogent and turned toward him. The Sheriff placed the large brimmed hat atop his head and strode over in an erect manner to chastise Cogent. The Sheriff knew Cogent was capable of continuing his investigation even though he was terminated from the department. Cogent quickly got into the car to avoid the Sheriff. But it was too late. The Sheriff pecked on the window of Cogent's car. Cogent begrudgingly rolled the car window down as the Sheriff bent down to speak to him. “What are you doing here, Cogent? I hope you're not sticking your nose into where it ought not to be!” the Sheriff warned Cogent in his Louisiana drawl. The Sheriff had a pretty good idea that Cogent wouldn't give up on the matter so easily. “I don't know what you mean,” Cogent attempted to act ignorant. “I think you know darn well what I mean!” the Sheriff stated in an intimidating manner. “I was here on personal business,” Cogent retorted. “Well, we'll just find out what business when I talk to Ms. Crump. Won't we? If I find out that you are still sticking your nose into this case, there will be trouble!” the Sheriff responded in a terse tone. “I don't know what you're talking about,” Cogent shook his head and rolled the window up, discarding the warning that the Sheriff had given him. He put the car in drive and pulled slowly out of the parking space. Cogent would, once again, head out to the scene of the crime. Perhaps he had overlooked some small detail. He couldn't let go. He was too close to solving this thing. Even if he wasn't working for the department anymore, he couldn't resist checking things out further. As he drove along, he constantly checked his rearview mirror to ensure that no one was following him. The coast was clear. He pulled up alongside the steel green bridge next to Pontchartrain Boulevard, at the site where the sixty-five-year-old Lydia Secrest had drowned. Cogent hoped that his car would not get stuck in the moist sand. The large support beam of the massive bridge was encased in cement. Many tourists had stopped to eye the impressive structure. It was the pride of New Orleans. Cogent wasn't interested in the bridge. He was too locked into the mystery of the case to even notice the grand structure. He pulled his field binoculars out of the glove box and peered through them to take a look at the filmy water. Moss lay atop the surface of the water, and steam was emitted in the air. Cogent pulled off his jacket and made his way over to the water's edge at the concrete seawall. He stared down at the lofty drop-off. He knew the woman couldn't have possibly thrown herself off the bridge in the shape she was in. Her skull was fractured, and she was severely disfigured from the bludgeoning that she had been subjected to. Forensics had recreated the scene. Cogent questioned the accuracy of the forensics report, though. The report had indicated that she had drowned prior to the beating. He knew that there was no way it could have occurred in that order. He wondered why anyone would have suspected that it had. Was it a coincidence that the other victims had suffered this same fate? Cogent went back over to his car and pulled out the disposable camera. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. Cogent quickly snapped several pictures of the bridge, the waterway, and the drop-off. He would review them later. Cogent then hopped back into the dilapidated old car and sped off down the highway.