Case of the Ragin' Cajun

by Jeffrey Poole

  Jillian and Tori both held a hand over their noses.

  “What’s that smell?” Jillian wanted to know.

  “Smells like garbage,” I decided. “I’ll bet he hasn’t taken the trash out for a while.”

  “Why would Tina want to live like this?” Tori asked. “You’d think she’d pitch in and help.”

  “Because of the father,” I said. “He needs to pull himself together. If he doesn’t take care of himself, then Tina is obviously thinking she doesn’t have to, either. Or … or she feels she shouldn’t have to take care of her dad. And do you know what? She’s right. It should be the other way around. They’re stuck in a dangerous cycle. This family needs help.”

  Vance ducked through a hallway. “In here. I found the girl’s room. Zack, I think you’re right, buddy.”

  We all stepped into Tina’s room and came to an immediate stop. This one room was the exact polar opposite of the rest of the apartment. For starters, it was clean! The bed was made, there were no dirty clothes on the floor, and all her possessions were neatly displayed on bookcases and display racks. And, speaking of possessions, we were right. Well, the dogs were right. Tina was a fan of comic-cons, no doubt about it. Everywhere I looked, I could see Star Wars knick-knacks and memorabilia. And, based on the closest circular all-glass display, this girl was into action figures.

  “Remind you of anyone?” Jillian said, as she appeared beside me.

  In my house, back home, I have one of my guest rooms converted to a hobby room. Like Tina, I’m a huge fan of Star Wars. Unlike Tina, I will not dress up as my favorite characters. Based on the number of framed pictures on Tina’s desk and on the wall, this girl loved costumes. The desk, alone, must’ve had at least a dozen different framed five-by-seven photographs. One had Tina decked out in all blue, with tentacles hanging off her head. Any Star Wars fan will recognize the dancing girl from Jabba’s palace. You know, the one who was eaten by the Rancor?

  “Wow, you should see this,” Jillian said. She was standing in front of a small sliding-door closet and was staring at the clothes that were hanging up. “There’s something you don’t see every day. Zachary? How many can you identify?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, as I joined Jillian at the closet. She wanted me to identify something? Then, some very recognizable outfits caught my eye. “This girl has spent some bucks on costumes, that’s for sure. See the orange one? That’s the X-Wing fighter pilot uniform. Then that one there? That’s the outfit for a colonial warrior.”

  “Which movie is that from?” Vance wanted to know.

  “No movie,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s from the classic Battlestar Galactica TV series. And that one? Hmm. I know I’ve seen it before. I’m trying to picture where I’ve seen it.”

  “Imagine it on Karen Gillan,” Jillian quietly suggested, “in the role of Nebula, for the Marvel movie …”

  “… Guardians of the Galaxy,” I finished.

  “Jillian?” I heard Tori say. “Could you come over here for a second?”

  Vance and I turned to see Tori, holding both of the dogs’ leashes, standing at the window, facing St. Peter Street. She was studying a potted plant, sitting on the floor. The plant itself was about four feet high, had green leaves and red stems. Also visible were clusters of dark red berries. For the record, both Sherlock and Watson were staring at it so intently that they were acting like they expected it to sprout legs and start walking around.

  “Can you identify it?” Tori asked. “I caught these two looking at it and I wanted to see if there was any significance to its presence here.”

  Jillian approached the potted plant and squatted down next to it. She was silent for a few moments, then she straightened, retrieved a pencil from the desk, and then gently pulled several stems this way and that. Finally, after a few moments, Jillian straightened and looked over at us. More specifically, she caught Vance’s eyes and held them.

  “This is pokeweed.”

  “You say that as though I know what it is,” Vance returned. “So … what is it?”

  “It’s a common source of food for songbirds,” Jillian began.

  “Isn’t that a weird plant to have in one’s bedroom?” I asked.

  “Knowing this girl, I’d say it was because this plant goes by another name,” Jillian said.

  “And what would that be?” Vance asked.

  “Dragonberries.”

  “Cool name,” I decided. “Still doesn’t explain what it’s doing here.”

  “Let me finish,” Jillian said. “Dragonberries, or pokeweed, may be food for birds, but it’s toxic to humans and dogs.”

  Tori automatically pulled the dogs away from the plant.

  “How toxic?” Vance wanted to know. He pointed at a few of the berries. “Could something like this have been used to poison, say, a bunch of people at a convention?”

  Jillian nodded. “Very easily.”

  Vance squatted next to the plant and fell silent.

  “So, this is what she used to poison people. This just keeps getting worse for her.”

  “Woof.”

  All four of us, along with Watson, turned to look at Sherlock. My tri-colored corgi was now staring at Tina’s bed and was pulling on his leash. It would seem he wanted a closer inspection. Tori held out his leash.

  “What is it, boy?” I asked, as I took possession of the dog. “Is there something over here you want to see?”

  Sherlock pulled me over to the twin-sized bed. Figuring he’d picked up something from under the bed, I dropped to my knees and started to lower myself into position. That was when I noticed Sherlock wasn’t looking under the bed, but at the junction of the two mattresses. Was there something between them?

  “Vance? Grab that side, would you? Very slowly now, let’s pick this up. I want to see what’s between them.”

  Nodding, Vance took the back right corner and I took the front. We lifted the right side, just enough to see what could have been there. I was halfway expecting to find a few adult magazines there, but then again, this was also a girl’s room. I really didn’t know what to expect. However, I should’ve known what we’d find.

  “Well, well,” Vance said, sounding smug. “Look at what we just found.”

  An ear-splitting bark ripped through the quiet confines of the apartment.

  “As I was saying,” Vance hastily amended, “look at what the dogs found.”

  “What is it?” Tori asked, as she peered around her husband’s body to see for herself. “Oh! Isn’t that …?”

  “It’s the mask!” Jillian exclaimed.

  We let the mattress plunk back down as we stepped away from Tina’s bed. Using a tissue from a nearby box, Vance had picked up the mask and was holding it as though he was a hunter, displaying the corpse of his hard-fought prey.

  “Just what do you think you are doing here?” a shrill voice suddenly demanded.

  The four of us whirled around. Both Sherlock and Watson began barking. Tina, it would seem, had returned from her deliveries and figured she could avoid the police by hiding in her home. Little did she know that the police were already here.

  “Who are you? I’m calling the police right now!”

  Vance held up the mask and then reached inside his back pocket and showed the teenager his police badge.

  “I think calling the police right now would be a fantastic idea. In fact, I should tell you I sent off several messages the moment we found your mask.”

  Tina squealed with alarm and bolted for the door. However, before she could make it, her father appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and looking exceedingly angry.

  “Dad! I can explain!”

  “They walked in, leveling accusations at you,” Ernie began, his tone deceptively calm. “I didn’t believe them. Couldn’t believe them.”

  “Dad, I …”

  “They said you had poisoned some people at a book expo,” Ernie interrupted, growing red in the face. “Would that be the same o
ne I’ve heard about on the news?”

  Tina’s face fell and she began sobbing.

  “Then,” Ernie continued, oblivious to the fact that his daughter had turned on the waterworks, “these people said that someone died during the attack. Christina, that was you? You killed someone?”

  “I d-did no s-such thing!” Tina sobbed.

  “Point of fact,” Vance hastily added, “but you did. One of the fans. An innocent. How does that make you feel?”

  I raised a hand and tapped my chest. “The guy who died? He had puncture marks on his chest. He wasn’t poisoned. At least, I don’t think he was.”

  Vance shrugged. “Collateral damage, then. If she hadn’t created the panic, then our victim probably wouldn’t have been stabbed.”

  “But, I didn’t kill anyone! I only put in enough berries to make people sick. I wanted to make people afraid to go to that stupid book show.”

  “I was part of that book show,” I pointed out. “I never did anything to you, yet you seemingly targeted me. There were more well-known people there than I was, yet you fixated on me. Why?”

  “I just happened to be walking by when you and the dogs arrived,” Tina answered, renewing her sobbing. “I was mad at the expo, not you. It’s not fair! That convention center? They were hosting comic-cons long before some dumb book expo ever thought about hosting an event. Let the expo be held miles and miles away. Let the expo suffer poor ticket sales. Let’s see how many guests will show up if there’s no money to pay the stars.”

  “This is about those damn comic book shows?” Ernie practically shouted. “You did all of this just so you can play dress-up again? You need to grow up, girl!”

  Tina sobbed harder.

  “It’s tough losing a parent,” Jillian softly told the girl. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through.”

  Tina collapsed to the floor, crying hysterically. Jillian rushed forward to pull the girl into a hug. Before anyone could say anything, we saw both Sherlock and Watson perk up. Their erect ears swiveled back and forth, as though they alone could hear something we could not. Not two seconds later, a police siren sounded, and grew steadily louder.

  “Did you use the pokeweed to poison the people at the expo?” Jillian asked.

  The girl nodded, her tear-streaked face looking sadder than I would have thought possible. If ever a girl could pull off wretched or miserable, this was the one.

  “I added several of my dragonberries into the lunch order for the expo.”

  “You sabotaged my gumbo?” her father cried. “Why would you try to ruin me, Christina? Do you have any idea what’s going to happen? I’ll be arrested!”

  Right on cue, Detective Martins arrived, with three other officers in tow. He took one look at the girl sobbing on the floor and looked questioningly at Vance.

  “This? This is our suspect?”

  Vance held up the rubber mask. “Yes.”

  Detective Martins’ face hardened. “You found the mask. Did you have a warrant to search this place?”

  “No. The resident gave permission to search.”

  Martins turned to Ernie. “Is this true, sir?”

  “It’s true. They indicated my daughter was involved, and I gave them my house keys.”

  Since I was standing closest to Ernie, Vance tossed the keys to me.

  “Here they are,” I said, presenting them to Ernie. “Thank you for letting us look.”

  Tina’s tear-streaked face turned to look accusingly at her father. “You? You really let them in here? Why, Dad? Why would you do that?”

  “Why would you harm innocent people?” her father countered.

  When Tina didn’t respond, Detective Martins snapped on a pair of gloves and carefully took the mask from Vance. He held it up in front of the girl.

  “Were you wearing this several days ago, at the book expo held at the Ernest Morial Convention Center?”

  Tina slowly nodded.

  “You dropped a voodoo doll for everyone to see,” Detective Martins angrily continued. “Why? All I have to do is look around your home to see that you are not affiliated with that religion. Why insinuate that voodoo was involved?”

  “It was a gathering of a bunch of book lovers,” Tina sullenly responded. “Why not give them something to write about?”

  “Do you have any idea how badly this reflects on our city?” Detective Martins snapped.

  An angry look of defiance appeared on Tina’s face and I could see that she was done talking. That’s when I looked down at the dogs, only to find them staring straight at the girl. A flashback to the podcast from a few days ago had me gasping with alarm.

  “What is it?” Jillian whispered. “Are you all right?”

  I strode over to the girl and tried to stare her down. “You said there’d be a second attack. Where will it happen? What did you do? Tell us that it was just a bluff.”

  “The comic-cons will return once tonight is over,” Tina said, raising her head to look at me. “Enjoy your popularity while you still can.”

  “What did you do?” Ernie demanded. “Christina Marie, you will tell us what you’ve done, and you will do so now!”

  A smirk appeared on the girl’s face. One thing was clear. A second attack was going to happen, and she wasn’t going to help us. We were on our own.

  ELEVEN

  “Where do we even start?” Jillian asked, as we stepped outside, onto St. Peter Street. “That poor girl is going to create another attack. We have to stop it!”

  “I would agree,” Vance said, as he and Tori joined us on the sidewalk. My detective friend squatted low and draped an arm around both corgis. “You two are my secret weapons. We need to know where to go, guys. Look, here are my last two doggie biscuits. Will you help us out?”

  Sherlock snatched the treat from Vance’s hand, while Watson timidly took the goodie as gently as she could. Once both of the corgis had dispatched their treats, they rose to their feet.

  “I don’t like this,” Detective Martins announced, as he joined our group. “I don’t like this one bit. Who knows what that whack-a-doodle girl has gone and done? Perhaps this time she’s hoping for more than one casualty?”

  “She claimed she wasn’t responsible for killing that poor fellow from before,” Jillian reminded everyone. “Personally, I believe her. Oh, don’t get me wrong, that is one severely disturbed girl, but I don’t think she meant to seriously hurt anyone.”

  “But, what’s to stop her this time around?” I asked.

  Jillian shrugged helplessly.

  “What else could she possibly do to make the book expo look unfavorable in the public’s eye?” Greg Plinth chimed in. The consultant was given a dour look from Martins, and immediately clammed up.

  “The expo is over,” I said, frowning. “My publisher held an impromptu signing at my hotel, but it sure couldn’t have been considered an expo.”

  “Something’s up,” Martins decided. He pulled out his cell. “Let me make a few phone calls. Maybe there’s something else going on.”

  A few minutes later, we had our answer. The convention center, realizing that it had received some bad press in the last couple of days, was donating a final night for the book expo. They were even waiving all fees and profits they’d make renting tables, provided they could jam as many people as they could into the expo. It would seem they were desperate to prove that their facility was perfectly safe. I could only hope they were right.

  “It has to be it,” Vance decided. “The book expo is now going to go for one more night? That must be what the girl will be targeting. We just have to figure out how, and in what way. That’s the only way we’re going to be able to stop her.”

  Detective Martins nodded solemnly before looking down at the dogs. Giving off the appearance he was having the mother of all internal debates, Martins finally swallowed his pride and asked what had to be the inevitable question.

  “Er, do you think you could see about having your dogs locate whatev
er device is going to be used to attack the expo? The Ernest Morial Convention Center has over a million square feet of contiguous space. Finding some type of device in there will be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  “A needle in a haystack would be easier to find,” I muttered. I looked down at Sherlock and Watson. “Do you really think my dogs can find whatever it is you’re looking for?”

  “The captain has spread some seriously amazing rumors about those two dogs,” Martins admitted. “He told us all about Sherlock and Watson, and their … exploits in Pomme Valley. As such, he’s willing to renegotiate in order to enlist your help.”

  “Renegotiate?” Vance said, shaking his head. “You don’t need to do that. I’m sure Zack and I will be able to … Zack? What are you doing?”

  I had my phone in my hand and was busy typing out a string of commands. “Give me a second.”

  “Are you really going to negotiate some type of fee to ensure our help?” Jillian asked, frowning. “That’s not like you, Zachary.”

  I smiled and presented my phone to my fiancée. Jillian’s lovely features broke out into a smile. “I stand corrected. Now this is just like you.”

  Vance came up behind me and looked over my shoulder. He saw what was on my phone and snorted with laughter.

  “What?” Martins demanded. “What are you looking at?”

  “We’ll help in every way we can,” I told the New Orleans detective.

  “Thank you, Mr. Anderson.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me yet. There’s a price, of course.”

  “And that would be?” Martins suspiciously asked.

  “It’s easy. You and your consultant, Mr. Plinth, will be partaking in a food challenge of my choosing. And, looking up what’s popular in New Orleans, there are quite a few to choose from.”

  Detective Martins actually laughed out loud. “Bring it on. I’ve actually competed in a few challenges in my day, so there’s nothing you can …”

  “I’ve chosen the Tchoupitoulas Sundae Challenge.”

  Just as I expected, Martins grinned. “That’s fine. I know all about that ice cream challenge. I’m sure the two of us can polish off that sundae.”