Face Behind the Mask

by Leo King

  He headed back to his car. Rivette and Landry were gone, as were a number of uniformed officers. When Aucoin saw that his passenger-side window was open, a surge of panic gripped him. Rushing inside, he checked the glove compartment. It was open.

  “No, no, no!” Nearly falling over himself, he searched the glove compartment, then the seat, and then the floor for signs of the silver pen.

  “Vincent! Where the hell are you, Vincent?”

  But it was no use. The pen was gone.

  Beating the roof of the car, he cried out, “No! No, damn it, this is not happening. No, no!”

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” It was Ouellette, standing behind him and looking as dour as ever.

  “Sir, someone robbed my car. I had a pen. A silver pen. Very dangerous. It’s how Vincent uses the loa to—”

  “The shit did you say?”

  Aucoin stopped, realizing how crazy he must sound. “Sorry, sir, I’m just hysterical. My car, and—”

  Ouellette said, “You are just starting to get your shit together. Don’t lose it now. Do you have any leads from the body?”

  It took a few deep breaths, but Aucoin calmed down. He’d deal with finding the pen as soon as he could, even getting help from Dixie if he had to. Showing the destroyed crest, he said, “I don’t think it’s Tania. See, I found this in the bag. I remember seeing one like it on Miss Saucier of the Picayune. I’m fairly certain rich socialites like her wouldn’t associate with Miss Patterson.”

  When Ouellette examined it, his expression grew dangerous. Then he said, “Right. Best you back off this one. I’ll get Olivier on it tomorrow.”

  Aucoin shook his head. “Sir, with all due respect, she can hardly walk. She’s in no condition to—”

  “And you think you are?” Ouellette eyed him harshly. “You’ve been a fucking mess for over half a year. You’ve only started becoming a non-mess the past few days. Listen, these people are dangerous, especially Saucier. She will ruin your world if you cross her.”

  As his commander said that, another piece fell into place for Aucoin. Given what Vincent had said, he had a pretty good hunch as to who this group was.

  “This is the Knight Priory, isn’t it?”

  With a harrumph, Ouellette said, “Hell of a time to make a comeback, Aucoin. Yes. The Knight Priory of Saint Madonna. But unlike the old one, these guys aren’t some elite social club. They’re vicious, power-hungry psychopaths. And Caroline is one of the worst.”

  “Sir, I can handle this. Please don’t put Dixie in danger. Not when she’s so close to having her child.”

  The two stared at each other for a full minute. The last time Aucoin had seen Ouellette’s gaze so intense, it was during the wharf incident. It was like looking into an angel statue at a church—strong, imposing, and more than a little frightening.

  Finally, Ouellette sighed. “Fine. But this is the only warning you get. Run afoul of the Knight Priory, and I will not be able to save you. Tread lightly.”

  The sun had risen by the time Aucoin was admitted to see Caroline. A clerk announced him, as her secretary’s desk was empty, which seemed odd. As he entered, she was on the phone. She sounded annoyed.

  “Yes, Ignatius, I know I promised you full use of that book, but it’s been months. You aren’t going to find any secrets in it. It’s just an old tome that crackpot Russell used to own. No, we need to make sure that the Oracle doesn’t find out until I take charge.”

  Oracle, huh? Must be Knight Priory stuff. He filed that name away for later and then took in her office. Besides being posh and well decorated, it showcased headlines from the newspaper’s illustrious history. Everything from the Challenger shuttle explosion to the JFK assassination to Martin Luther King’s most famous rally was hanging on the wall. The two that caught Aucoin’s eye were “Bourbon Street Ripper Executed” and “New Ripper Killed. Castille Mansion Burns.”

  “Have a seat, Detective,” Caroline said as she hung up the phone and sat back down behind her desk. “Do you want a coffee? A latte perhaps? There’s a PJ’s in the lobby, and they deliver.”

  As she picked up her phone, he said, “A latte sounds great. Maybe a slice of banana bread as well.” It would have been rude to turn down her offer.

  While she called it in, he scanned her desk for something—anything—that could clue him in on what happened last night. With luck, she would also be involved with the silver pen. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

  All he saw were some pictures. One was of a younger Caroline with a pretty girl her own age, labeled “Allison—1971.”

  “OK, your order is placed, Detective.” The leather in her chair creaked as she leaned back. “Do you know why I want to talk to you?”

  “I’ll be honest,” he said. “I haven’t got a clue.”

  With a smirk, she said, “I want to hire you. You’re smart, you’re resourceful, and now that you’ve gotten yourself back together, you’re the best choice.”

  Leaning forward, he examined her face. She had that same stern expression as before, but now it was accented by a cocky sneer. Everything about her was off-putting.

  “I really rather like my job, Miss Saucier. I’m not a journalist.”

  She sniffed contemptuously. “I don’t mean for you quit your day job. And you know that. I want you to work for me on the side.”

  “So brazen,” he said, leaning back. He tried reading her, but all he got was a detestable cockiness. Still, she might know something. He started playing his cards. “So is this for you personally or for the Knight Priory?”

  Touching the crest on her lapel, she said, “Well, well. You’re even smarter than I thought. Yes, Detective. This is for the Knight Priory, but mostly to help me. See, I’m tired of being Connick’s number-two, and I’m tired of competing with the remaining purebloods. I want to move to the top of the ladder, and you can help. It will pay well. Very, very well.”

  Her mention of Harry Connick took him by surprise. “What? The DA is in the Knight Priory?”

  She shrugged. “We let him in as a bribe of sorts right after the Hannah Davis incident. But he’s become popular. Too popular. If he wasn’t the District Attorney, I’d have had him killed already.”

  Aucoin couldn’t believe her. But he held his tongue. He needed information. “So let’s get down to brass tacks, then. Why me and not someone else? I’ve been a washed-up excuse for a detective since my kid died.”

  Snickering, she waved him off. “The only other person we’d want is Lieutenant Olivier. But our recruiter blew that one so badly, she won’t come near us, which is why we have an idiot of a detective working for us right now.”

  He blinked. “You have a cop working for the Knight Priory?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who?”

  “Not your concern,” she said.

  “Right. So this business relationship includes me operating in the dark.”

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “If I don’t think you need to know, you won’t.”

  He leaned forward, too. “And you want me to help the Knight Priory, but also help you take control?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I thought the Castille family ran the Knight Priory. That would mean Sam.”

  Now her expression darkened. “Humph. Screw Sam. Her grandfather murdered the only woman I’ve ever loved. And Sam is a committed psycho with no future. So the new Knight Priory needs a new leader.”

  With an unkind grin, he said, “And you’re that person?”

  “You catch on quickly.”

  “All right, Miss Saucier. I have only one question.”

  “Oh?”

  He tossed the burned crest onto the desk. “Who died in that fire last night?”

  The room grew quiet as she examined it, tapping her fingers on the wooden surface of her desk. Then she picked up the crest and pocketed it. Her voice was low. “My secretary. She wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “What happened?” He wa
nted nothing more than to cuff her right then.

  She closed her eyes. “The cop who works for us is an idiot and gave her bad information. She died as a result.”

  “Who is this cop? Someone burned to death last night, Miss Saucier. I need to know.”

  When she opened her eyes, they had a look of cruelty and malice that took Aucoin by surprise. She pointed over his shoulder. “Look behind you, and you’ll see.”

  He turned around. At once, his mouth hung open.

  Standing at the entrance to the office, holding a tray of PJ’s coffee and several slices of banana bread, was Detective Paul Landry.

  Chapter 21

  A Shield that Protects

  Date: Saturday, March 24, 1993

  Time: 8:00 a.m.

  Location: Times-Picayune

  Central Business District, New Orleans

  Landry looked as stunned as Aucoin felt. “Mistress Saucier? Wh-what’s going on? Wh-why is Kyle here?”

  Suddenly, everything about Landry’s behavior made sense. The skulking about, the interest in Dixie’s schedule, the eavesdropping, the sudden bouts of nervousness—everything seemed clear. It was likely that Landry was a double agent against Ouellette, too.

  With that revelation came anger at the dishonesty, the disloyalty, and the treachery of a fellow detective. Aucoin got up so fast, he felt static charge around his shoes and pants. With a roar, he knocked the tray out of Landry’s hands and pushed him against a wall.

  “What the fuck is the meaning of this, you piece of shit?”

  “Kyle! It’s not what you think! It’s not—”

  “It’s not what I think?” Aucoin felt his face getting hotter, redder. “You fat, stupid son-of-a-bitch, what do you mean? How long have you been selling us out? How long have you been spying on us for the Knight Priory?”

  “Oh, I can answer that,” Caroline said in a cold voice. “Paul has been working with us since about the time Sam was committed. In fact, he’s the one who helped Dr. Klein push that through by delivering messages and payoffs to the judges. Didn’t you, Paul?”

  Landry squealed in terror. “Miss Saucier? Why? I’ve always done what you asked. No, I didn’t do that. Kyle, you have to believe me!”

  Again, Aucoin pushed him against the wall, slamming him hard. “You make me sick, sick, sick. You can’t even admit you were a traitor. You gutless, spineless twerp!”

  Caroline chuckled darkly. “Oh, Paul, you may be easy to control, but you are an idiot. I have no need for someone who can’t do even the simplest task. My poor secretary was supposed to go in, light a fire to kill the Patterson girl, and get out. But you got cold feet, and she ended up trapped. How does that further my plans, again?”

  Looking panicked, Landry struggled in vain to escape Aucoin’s grip. Finally, he said, “It wasn’t my fault. Something happened. Something ghostlike scared us so bad that she spilled the accelerant and it blew up on her. I woulda gotten burnt, too, if I hadn’t run!”

  She harrumphed. “Ghosts? How lame. There are no ghosts, Paul. Just a fat, stupid loser. Detective Aucoin, if you kill this waste of life, the Knight Priory will not only make sure you get away with it, but we’ll also set you up with a million-dollar-a-year salary, with bonuses from me for our special side project.”

  Aucoin could tell she was completely serious.

  As Landry hyperventilated, the air around them started getting cold. Then he started to shake, making it harder for Aucoin to focus on Caroline. He ignored it for the moment and said, “I’m afraid you have to do better than that if—”

  He stopped when she suddenly looked terrified. He glanced back at Landry, who was bleeding from his eyes, his ears, his nose, and his mouth. He was convulsing, and his face was contorted in terrible pain.

  “What the fuck?” Aucoin backed away as Landry fell to his knees.

  “Help me, Kyle!” He doubled forward and puked blood, the stinking mess so hot it steamed. Grabbing his throat, he started frothing foamy red suds, gagging. His veins grew darker until the blood started oozing out of his pores. With a final tortured cry, he fell to the ground, dead.

  Caroline screamed. “What the hell just happened? What did you do?”

  Aucoin didn’t respond. His heart was racing as he stared at the bloody mess that was once Paul Landry. There was only one thing in the world that could kill like that.

  Whoever had the silver pen was already using it to kill.

  It took almost three hours to deal with Landry’s death. Rivette finally arrived and, regarding his partner’s body with surprisingly little emotion, stayed with him until the EMTs took him away.

  Despite her icy demeanor from earlier, Caroline was a mess. Eventually, a man named Dr. Kindley arrived, examined her, and recommended she be taken home and sedated.

  As she left, led out by two uniformed officers, she shot Aucoin a poisonous look. “You can bet I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Aucoin couldn’t believe her audacity. Uppity bitch.

  Dr. Kindley flashed a vicious grin as he passed by. “Making friends and influencing people, eh, Detective?” He left with Caroline, whispering in her ear.

  When Aucoin got back to the precinct with Rivette, he went to Landry’s desk. “Hey, Scott. Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m all right. I just need to think.” Rivette rubbed his face and sat down heavily.

  Seeing him like this made Aucoin sigh. Poor guy had to be in shock, losing his partner like that.

  While Rivette withdrew, Aucoin went through Landry’s desk. Amongst the piles of post-it notes and takeout menus was a small, red booklet. Inside were detailed notes on every detective in the precinct, including Dixie and Ouellette, with potential threat levels to the Knight Priory. Theirs were rather high, while his was insultingly low. Also detailed were everyone’s movements over the course of months, from where they had lunch to when they went to the bathroom—a complete record of the movements of the eighth precinct.

  “This is un-fucking-believable,” Rivette said. “I would not have believed it in a million years.”

  Looking up from the booklet, Aucoin said, “Man, I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll catch the guy who did it.”

  “I just want to fix it. I want him to be alive.”

  “I know, Scott. Be strong, buddy.” Although he felt he understood Rivette’s pain, Aucoin put his sympathetic ear aside to finish scanning the booklet. Two phone numbers on the inside cover caught his eye. He picked up Landry’s phone and dialed the first.

  A woman picked up. “Dr. Klein’s office. How may I help you?”

  He hung up. Holy shit! Is Dr. Klein in the Knight Priory?

  Hands shaking, he dialed the other number.

  A man picked up. “Evergreen Plantation. Who do you want to speak with?”

  Aucoin hung up even harder. His hands were trembling so badly, he could barely hold on to the booklet. Evergreen? That’s where Dixie said Sam was!

  “I’ll be right back, Scott.”

  Rivette, who had taken out a notepad and was reading over some scribbles, nodded sadly. Aucoin stopped long enough to pat him on the shoulder and then rushed to Ouellette’s office.

  The door was closed. He could hear Ouellette on the phone. “No, Douglas, you listen to me. You need to gather up Mabel and Boudreaux, pack your bags, and get the hell out of New Orleans for a while.… Right. I have a cabin up in Ponchatoula. It’s stocked with cans and dry goods.… Yes, dog food, too.… Stay there for at least a few weeks.… Good. Hugs to Mabel. Take care, and later.”

  Knocking on the door, Aucoin entered the office and slapped the booklet on Ouellette’s desk. “That belonged to Landry. It contains detailed information on everyone in the precinct, especially in our division.”

  Ouellette swiped the booklet and read it, his expression never changing. “Well, this is a steaming pile of shit. Looks like Landry had himself some balls after all.”

  Although he didn’t want to argue with his commander, Aucoin couldn’t
have disagreed more. “Sir, he was spying on us all. I don’t see how you can compliment him for that.”

  With a wave, Ouellette said, “Take a seat, Aucoin. Let me tell you something.”

  “Sir, this is hardly time for a story,” he said, sitting down.

  Ouellette rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “I’m about to tell you something I’ve never told another living soul.”

  That got Aucoin’s attention. He sat up straight.

  “Before my marriage to Nina, and before Jason, I used to be married with a family.”

  “What?” As far he knew, Nina and Jason, who was killed by Dallas back in the eighties, were his only family.

  “Dear, sweet Constance. She was a socialite, one of the New Orleans high society, and a member of the original Knight Priory. My kids were wonderful. One boy and two girls. Smart, beautiful, pleasant children. In many ways, I was king of my own kingdom.” The fondness in Ouellette’s eyes was as unmistakable as it was unusual.

  “But then the war hit, and I went over there thinking I was going to earn glory. The whole thing turned into a fucking nightmare. When I finally got back, my family was in ruins.”

  “What do you mean?” Aucoin leaned forward, trying to see what this had to do with Landry.

  “My wife was dead. My children were a mess. It was awful. The Knight Priory slid into shit, and every time I tried to fix it, I got laughed out of the room.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “Those in power aren’t forgiving, Aucoin.”

  “Sir, I’m not following what this has to do with Landry betraying us.”

  Leaning back, Ouellette said, “I can’t influence the Knight Priory like I used to, and I’m aware that this new incarnation wants to screw us up. So when I caught Landry snooping around and made him confess about working for them, I turned him into a double agent of sorts.”

  That last statement made Aucoin sit up straight. Blinking, he said, “Wait… what? Landry was working for you?”