The Cajun Hitman

Ian Murphy

Description

“My name is Landry Boudreaux. I was born on the 18th of February 1986 in Lafayette Louisiana, I am a Cajun, and I am a Hitman, this is my story.”

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Thriller
• Thrillers
• Crime
• Enquête
• Intrigue
• Homicide
• Fiction
• Littérature

Informations

• Publié par: Erato Editions
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782374475707
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE CAJUN HITMAN

Ian Murphy



THE CAJUN HITMAN




ERATO-EDITIONS

Warning:
Rude language, sexually explicit scenes that could offend some of the readers.
This book is aimed at the sales, and to only entertain adults, in French laws and other countries where you bought this book. Thank you to store this book in a place where the minors cannot have access.
The moral right of Ian Murphy to be identified as the author of ‘The Cajun Hitman’ of the French Laws on copyright Designs and Patents.


Paper ISBN 978-2-37447-571-4 Digital ISBN: 978-2-37447-570-7
Publication date: Mars 2022 © Erato–Editions – All rights reserved:
© Erato–Publications Publisher: E. Saracino
This work is protected and strictly for use by a private client.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms, by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book, in conformity of the act L335-2 of the Intellectual Property code.
The publisher will sue all the attacks on these rights in front of the civil and penal courts.
All the characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, commercial properties, events, or places is purely coincidental.


PROLOGUE
“My name is Landry Boudreaux. I was born on the 18 th of February 1986 in Lafayette Louisiana, I am a Cajun, and I am a Hitman, this is my story.”


BOOK ONE LAFAYETTE 1986-2008


1
My mother was an addict and a whore, my father was a drunkard who belted me for more than ten years. I spent my childhood on the North Side of Lafayette. My hometown was a place with a lot of crimes, many gangs lived there. Eleanor Boudreaux my mother worked as a barmaid in a Cajun bar. There, men gathered drinking beer, listening to Cajun music, and spending money on prostitutes among them my mother.
Until the age of six, I spent many nights sleeping on the floor in the backroom. When I was a schoolboy, I was always alone after school and finally, I did not go to school regularly. I took the habit to spend most of my time with older kids who ran in the Cajun gangs. Eleanor was a Cajun, she was proud to be one, and dreamed to live in Paris, France. She thought she was a Southern Belle, she was not, she was a cheap whore, she drank too much and took too many drugs. When she was not on her back working, she sat on the couch and watched trash programs on TV.
My name is Boudreaux and not Schmidt thanks to God because my father did not take the time to legitimate me. Thanks to him I was known at school as the German bastard. Peter Schmidt was no more German than my mother was French, but one of his ancestors stayed in the South after the Civil War which was not a wise decision when you know the hatred against the Yankees and the German soldiers of the Union Army. Peter worked occasionally on the rigs and drank his beer money in the same kind of bars where my mother worked.
When I was four, he began the habit to belt me every Friday and Saturday evening after his drinking sessions. I was not a strong child, I was frail and small, I am still not tall 6ft, but today I am muscular and powerful. From the age of four to fourteen, I took the habit to be beaten at home and school until one day when I was on my way back home, Stan Gorowdski, Leo Burnin, and Elliott Travers were at the corner of Mouton Street and a small alley. They started to threaten me, to mock me and they gave me some blows. I jumped on Leo and threw him on the ground the two others kicked me, but when they heard the sirens of a police car they fled away. I helped Leo to stand up, took his arm, and led him in the back of the alleyway where we hid. It was when in hiding that I discovered that the boy who bullied me was scared. He was without his two friends, frightened by the police and by me. It was a new feeling for me, generally, I was the one scared by the others, this time I was the one feared. I threw Leo again on the ground, kicked his face and his body several times, he cried and begged me to stop trashing. I put my knee on his back and broke his right arm. He lay on the ground crying and nursing his arm.
“Listen well Leo, tell everybody what happened I will come back and finish you one night. Do you understand?”
Leo looked at me and nodded. I spat on his face and left him lying in his vomit. For the first time in my life, I felt proud and happy. During the following months I settled scores with Stan and Elliott, they are still limping. After my fourteenth year, I became a runner in the big Cajun gang of Lafayette the Brossard family. I was trained to look at tourist groups, lonely young women, all the kinds of people who are easy prey. Lafayette is the heart of Acadiana and the unofficial capital of Cajun Country. Lafayette is the center of the Cajun culture in Louisiana and the United States. The city has a strong tourism industry because of that culture there and in the surrounding region. Tourists come from every part of the States and Europe. French is the greater numbers, they are gullible, and they think this is France, but this is not. Less than in the Nouvelle Orleans, Lafayette plays the old French style, and it is thriving. This is a blessing for the restaurants, the artifacts shops, the nightlife, and of course the gangs. Larceny, prostitution, drugs are easier to do when they are so many people who don’t know the local rules.
Since the revelation of my power, I grew more and more confident and feared, first at school, then at home. During summer 2000, I grew a lot to reach 6ft; I was slim, muscular, and fast. One night my father came and went for me holding his leather belt, but when he faced me in the kitchen, I held a baseball bat and charged him, he retreated and never tried again. The two years before my sixteenth birthday was good to me, I settled well in the Brossard gang, where my good looks and fluency in French became an asset for the Brossard family. I was a predator among tourists, particularly the French. I could pass as a guide, French ex-pat, or nice high schoolboy. Nobody called me German bastard again, and I was Land for everybody’s friends and victims. I never liked my name, Landry it was so all fashion, I chose Land, and after all, I was American. The years 2001-2002 gave me the money, the skills, and the will to free myself definitively.


2
18 th of February 2002, I called it Independence Day, it was my sixteenth birthday. I planned this event for six months, preparing everything. This will be a rite of passage for me. It was a Thursday evening which suited me, the whore was on the couch watching Oprah, the bastard in the garage working on his old Corvette, and he worked on her for ten years, and never succeeded to drive more than ten miles. I came home around 5.00 pm as usual nobody greeted me with Happy Birthday. I went straight to my bedroom, put on my overalls. Then I went to the kitchen took a long filleting knife and walked to the living room where the whore was still watching her program, smoking a Marlboro, and drinking an Abita. She did not hear me stepping next to her and did not react when I put my hand on her mouth and slit delicately her throat. Her body jumped under her last convulsions, and the face of Oprah disappeared behind the blood splashing on the screen. This geyser of blood was like a firework of joy. I removed my hand from her face and let her body slumped over the couch; I wiped the knife and left the room. I wore a pair of latex gloves so my fingerprints will not appear on her face.
I was exhilarated, full of joy and happiness, I could not breathe easily. I went back to the kitchen and drank a glass of cold water. I sat at the kitchen table, and calmed down, I did the first part of my plan, and it went well, I stood up breathed slowly, left the house, and walked to the garage, the slide doors were opened, I entered and saw the old bastard bent over the engine of his dear Corvette, the radio full blast on KPEL-FM. I walked silently, holding firmly the knife, and I stabbed my old man three times in the back. He fell on the engine; I grabbed his head, and slit his throat, his dirty blood flowing in the engine. I stood up, looked at the scene, an intense feeling of freedom running through me, I was proud I did it. I left the garage, closed the slide doors, and walked back to the house.
I stripped put my clothes in a garbage bag but not the knife, I went to the bathroom, took a shower, and put on fresh clothes. It was time to go to see Papa Brossard. I left the house through the back door the night was dark, on the way I disposed of the garbage bag in a wheelie bin and threw the knife in the Vermilion River. Twenty minutes later I was on my way to the Family Brossard’s compound humming the lyrics of “ Zack’s Bon Ton ” my favorite song by Zachary Richard. The Brossard’s compound was like a military camp. I pushed the bell and smiled at the camera, the big iron doors slowly opened, I walked through them. Inside Barth, Blaise and Kev stopped and frisked me. I knew them, we were on good terms, but it did not matter Papa Brossard was very strict when it concerned his safety. Member of the family like me or stranger, nobody could walk inside the compound with a gun or a blade. If you carried a weapon, you had to leave it at the entrance, it was the rule. This day I did not carry any weapons.
“What’s bringing you here Land?”
Asked Blaise, the older guard who was the entrance supervisor. Blaise was in his late thirties, tall and strong, on steroids, like his fellow security men. He was badly shaved as usual, with some acne all over his face. He grinned at me after frisking me. Blaise and the two other guards were