Answering the Call

by Ali Vali

  “That’s where our questions come in,” Anabel said.

  “You lost me,” Sebastian said.

  “You were right about the near-perfect crime scenes,” Sept said. “When they were planned, each location was clean.” She made air quotes. “Hunter is a meticulous planner. She’d have to be to kill this many times without someone detecting her.” The timeline was written in black, so Sept picked up the red pen as Gustave and Sharon walked in. At each location she wrote the method or weapon used to commit the crime. “In each spot the murders were copied, along with the same way the murders were done.”

  “Except for here,” Sebastian said.

  “We’d figured out the bomb part and the eyes, but the gun makes me think Hunter isn’t very imaginative. When we say copycat, that’s exactly what we mean. This time around, she couldn’t adhere to the well-laid-out plan because she had to get some help. To take care of those loose ends, Hunter went back to the tried and true. She didn’t think of anything new.”

  Anabel walked closer and simply stared at the board. “This is a killer who needs someone else’s blueprint.”

  “Who knew Perlis would be the downfall of this plan,” Sept said, and her father nodded. “It doesn’t point to who, but we know her next play.”

  “Which is what?” Nathan asked.

  “The same conclusion as all the other cases we’ve found.” She pointed to the board. “The last victim in every case was the officer who arrested the killer. That might be the only original thing about all this.”

  “We’ve got an unoriginal killer who hates cops,” Anabel said, and Sept nodded again. “If you’re her next play, we need to drop a net over you, starting now.”

  “You can do that if you can do it without tipping her off. The bomb at the hotel, the call before Judy’s murder, and a few other tips make me think Hunter might be watching.” Sept stopped talking when someone she didn’t recognize walked in. The blonde smiled and handed Anabel a sealed envelope.

  “Relax. It’s just my assistant,” Anabel said as she ripped it open. Whatever it was, it was a quick read. “You have interesting friends who do you big favors.”

  “If you can provide the same care around the clock, I’ll call them off,” Sept said, not at all intimidated.

  “You know we can’t do that.”

  “Then get off Sept’s ass and back to what’s important,” Gustave said, standing by Sept. “Keegan and her family aren’t chips any of us are willing to gamble with.”

  “Okay, but it’s part of the report now, and it puts you in a spotlight you might not want to make too bright.” Anabel folded the paper and placed it back in the envelope.

  “Trust me, Anabel, if I was interested in only the money that comes from being a dirty cop, I’d retire and serve drinks at Blanchard’s. Keegan has more than enough to keep me, so to speak, but I’m a cop, and a damn good one.” The bullshit that came from a simple friendship was unbelievable.

  “Got it, and I was only giving you a heads-up. Enough about that and back to this case.”

  “We need a complete picture, so I’m not putting you off, but you and your team have to find the rest of the pieces, if they’re there to find.”

  “We’re working on it, and the profilers should have something for us soon. It might lead us in a direction we haven’t thought of.”

  “Then let’s find the missing piece and finish this,” Sept said as Nathan grabbed his jacket. “Remember to stay in touch, everyone, and I’ll buy whoever figures this out as many drinks as they want.”

  “Threats like that can move mountains, sister,” Gustave said.

  “Threats are for thugs, but alcohol is for closers.”

  * * *

  “You’re a hard man to find,” Nicole said to Sergeant Larry Nobles after she placed her hand on the back of his neck on the bandage he still had taped there. The crappy bar Larry had picked smelled of old booze and peanuts.

  Larry’s face was still bruised, and the small cuts had scabbed over, but he was due to return to work the next week. At least that’s what the woman in his office had told her. “I’ve been recovering, so I’ve been at home with my girlfriend. The explosion put me on sick leave, which means if you’re looking for some information, you’re out of luck.”

  “Maybe I was worried about you and came looking for you.” She took the barstool next to him and motioned for the bartender. “Maker’s Mark neat.”

  “I thought you were strictly a wine person?” He took his eyes off his whiskey and glanced at her. “What do you want from me?”

  “Tell me what happened to you.”

  “A few bombs went off somewhere I was working and did all this.” He pointed to his face.

  “Larry, I realize you made yourself clear about your reluctance to talk to me and don’t care what I can do to you,” she said, lifting her glass with her free hand.

  “But if you have any sense at all, you’d realize your life as you know it is in the balance,” Brian said, sitting on the other side of Larry. “Now, pay attention and cooperate, or you’ll have more problems than with NOPD.” Brian placed his FBI ID on the bar and smiled.

  “What do you want?” Larry asked, his tone one of resignation.

  “I want Savoie’s notes from the Perlis case,” Nicole said, not removing her hand from his neck and squeezing a little. “But right now, you’re going to tell us all about these new cases.”

  “I don’t know much about that. The only scene I worked was at that park where I got hurt, but only because we were short-staffed. My job doesn’t get me out in the field very often.” Larry grimaced, as if she was aggravating whatever was under the bandage.

  “I know what you do, Larry. It’s why I’ve paid you over ten thousand dollars already. I also know you can answer the questions we have even though you haven’t worked the case.” She squeezed one last time as hard as she could and let him go. “Let’s start with the one you were actually at.”

  Larry started talking, and Brian took copious notes. The altar Larry and the others had found had only the fruit and pigeons the god was known to like, but no body parts. It had stood out as the only orderly thing in the trash mounds around it. “Whoever put it there had cleared the area like they wanted it to stand out. That shit was a trap, though.”

  “No one was killed, though, right?” Brian asked.

  “The guys I was with all got hurt, but yeah, no one was killed.”

  “How’d you make it out so unscathed?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

  “I was going back for the camera. The bombs went off when I was halfway back to the car.”

  “That was lucky,” she said and smiled. “Are you usually that lucky, Larry? Or are you leaving something out?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly, glancing around as if he’d spoken too loud and might attract attention. “Look, that’s all I know. I’ll get you the rest of what you need, and then we’re done.”

  “We’re done when my daughter says we’re done,” Brian said, placing a twenty on the counter for her drink. “When you send the notes for Perlis’s case, send what’s been catalogued so far in these new cases as well.”

  Nicole took Brian’s arm and walked out with him, laughing at the fear in Larry’s eyes. “Why do you suppose these new cases haven’t benefitted Alex’s status?” she asked as Brian opened her door for her.

  “That’s a good question, baby, but I need to read the case file before I can answer it accurately.”

  “This is exciting, isn’t it?” she asked when he got behind the wheel.

  “I’m sure Savoie doesn’t share your sentiment, but it’s a fascinating case that must have them scrambling. They should’ve taken me up on my offer.” He pulled out, cutting off a small car, and the driver laid on the horn, but he didn’t seem to care. Brian took what he wanted and did what he pleased. That’s what she most admired about him.

  “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time, and they’ll come begging for your expertise.
That’ll be the best part of this new book.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I do my job, and that’s it. You don’t need to write about that, sweet girl.”

  “I want to,” she said, reaching over and placing her hand on his thigh. He always felt so hot to the touch, as if the heat was a built-in mechanism to warn off those who couldn’t handle it. “And you deserve the recognition.”

  “My time in the bureau is short.”

  “Then let’s make the most of it.”

  * * *

  Joel Savoie sat in the unmarked car he and his partner Lamar Jones had checked out that morning and sighed. “I hate that she’s always right,” he said to Lamar as he tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel.

  “You shouldn’t have bet real money, bonehead,” Lamar said putting the high-powered listening device they’d borrowed from Anabel’s people back in the case. He’d gotten close enough to hear their whole conversation.

  They’d been parked across the street from the bar, and Joel was surprised that Super Special Agent Voles didn’t pick up the tail. They’d spent two hours following these two around before the NOPD mole became apparent. Joel had bet Sept that morning at breakfast that one of their own wouldn’t sell them out, considering what Perlis had done, but Sept’s intuition and Larry Nobles’s stupidity had proved him wrong.

  “You want to wait for him to come out, or you want to go in and get him?” Lamar asked.

  “Let’s go.” He climbed out and pulled his jeans up. Maybe something about this non-uniform part of the job did hold appeal. “God knows how long this fucker will be in there.”

  Larry resembled one of those dog ornaments people put in their cars as his head swiveled between them. “You’re so popular, Larry,” Joel said as Lamar placed his hand on Larry’s shoulder in case he got happy feet. “All those visitors you’re getting.”

  “Let’s go for a ride,” Lamar said, and Larry pulled away from him. “If this is your neighborhood hangout, don’t make me handcuff you and drag you out, asshole.”

  “Problems, Larry?” the bartender asked.

  “Just some guys from work. Put this on my tab, and I’ll catch you later,” Larry said, standing up once Joel moved.

  “Yeah. If he owes you anything, he’s got about ten grand and change,” Joel said, and Larry appeared to be in pain. “No wonder Sept figured you out so quick. You’re so expressive.”

  “Where you taking me?” Larry asked as Lamar sat in the back with him.

  “You’ve got a date with Sept and Nathan, so start thinking of some really good answers to the questions you know she’s going to ask,” Joel said as he headed for the Quarter. “Then pray all you get is fired.”

  They each grabbed an arm when they arrived and led Larry upstairs to the empty office next to the conference room. He could hear his sister through the open door and left Lamar with Larry before she said anything Larry could sell later.

  “I owe you twenty bucks,” he said to Sept, and she smiled. “He just met with the Voles family, but it didn’t sound like he was too anxious to continue their conversation.”

  Sept sat on the edge of the table and nodded. “This is one of those times when I’m not thrilled I was right.” She combed her hair back and sighed. “Did you get it on tape?”

  “Lamar got close enough to record it all, and with some enhancement, a jury will hear every word. Hell, you can make it out with the raw tape.”

  “Good and thanks. I know spying on your own isn’t fun, but this one was important.” Sept and her team listened to the tape, and it was enough for what she really wanted. A search warrant for Larry’s phone records would hopefully prove her wrong, but that nagging suspicion from that night at the park had stayed with her. “Nathan, this should be enough to get us that warrant.”

  “On it,” Nathan said.

  “Anabel, want to join me for a chat?” Sept asked and rewound the tape. “Can you two put him in an interrogation room if he’s not already in one?”

  “What are you hoping to find out?” Lamar asked.

  “One crucial thing, and if I’m right, it gets us that much closer to cracking this thing.”

  Twenty minutes later, all Larry was adamant about was that he had nothing to say. Eventually a good attorney might get him off, but for now she was arresting him.

  “What now?” Anabel asked.

  “Now we wait and let the very small room Larry will be sitting in do its magical wonders. Nothing like the threat of gang rape to loosen the tongue, if we threaten to take him out of solitary.”

  * * *

  “Why haven’t they let Perlis out?” Nicole asked Gretchen Harrison as they shared dinner. It had taken some persuasion to get Gretchen out of her office, but she’d agreed to meet her at Le Coquille D’Huîte in the French Quarter. If she was barred from Blanchard’s, another restaurant owned by the family was the next best thing. “They’re the exact same crimes.”

  “I love your belief in my client, but it’s not that simple,” Gretchen said, picking up the small fork that came with the raw oysters she’d ordered. The restaurant was known for as well as named after the oyster shell, but Nicole wasn’t a fan. “We’re going to do our best to keep Alex off death row, but even I don’t see us overcoming the mountain of evidence against him, and I’m good.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you not hear me?” Nicole asked, ignoring her salad for now. “The same murders are happening right now. Three of them, as a matter of fact. If Alex is in jail, then it’s obviously not him.”

  “The team looked into the possibility, and the crimes are similar, but not at all the same.” Gretchen mixed the horseradish and cocktail sauce together before putting a little on an oyster. “The police never share much, especially with me, but it’s someone else.”

  “Shouldn’t they have to disclose why they think so? Can’t you take them to court and compel them?” Not knowing the facts was driving her crazy, and when she got her hands on Larry again, he’d need another month of sick leave. He had to have known this and kept quiet. “Alex Perlis doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who kills five people.”

  “Don’t forget one of those five was a cop, and three of the four attempted murders he’s charged with are also cops. Since one of those three was Sept Savoie, she’d pin this on Alex if she could, but it’s not the same person,” Gretchen said softly, as if not wanting to be overheard. “He killed a policewoman in Sept’s bed, for God’s sake, which makes me think she went out of her way to try to prove it’s someone working with him with the objective of clearing him.”

  “What do you know about the more recent murders?”

  Gretchen shrugged. “Not much more than the news has reported. Sept isn’t exactly an over-sharer.”

  “Can you find out? The addition of a like-minded killer would be great for the book.” If she could cut this short, she would, but with more wine, Gretchen might be more forthcoming.

  “Knowing Sept, you’ll find out soon—”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  “Nothing.” Gretchen stared at her like she was nuts. “Knowing Sept, you’ll find out soon enough, along with the rest of us. Her brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s, and she’s good at finding clues where none exist.”

  “Sorry. I’m just anxious about your case. I still believe Alex doesn’t deserve the blow fate has dealt him.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re a writer,” Gretchen said and smiled as she touched her hand. “Don’t ever become a defense attorney.”

  “Why?” she asked, moving her hand so their fingers linked together.

  “It’ll break your heart, but since I’m always accused of not having one. I’m immune to the criticism.”

  “That’s funny, but right now I’m not interested in your heart, Counselor,” she said and winked. “But I can be patient.”

  “In the time it takes to finish dinner, maybe I can think of a way to repay you for all your help. Alex is actually talking again, an
d he swears he doesn’t remember anything having to do with what he was arrested for. It might help in our diminished-capacity defense.”

  The table was cleared, and a few minutes later their meals were delivered. “I’m sure we can think of something,” she said and released Gretchen’s hand.

  “I’m game as long as whatever we decide on doesn’t go in the book.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “All my sex scenes are live performances.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Another week went by, and they were left with no more murders, no phone calls, and no hint Hunter was even still in town. Sept and Nathan had revisited every crime scene and re-interviewed everyone who might’ve been a witness. The only person on that list who had actually talked to Hunter was the operator who set appointments for Brandi Parrish.

  “I thought you’d already talked to her,” Brandi said as she sat by her pool in a bikini that left you wishing you had enough imagination to picture her dressed. Sept chuckled softly as she glanced at Nathan, who had his head back as if fascinated by the clear sky. For all his bravado, he seemed somewhat shy at times.

  “I did, but I need to talk to her again.” She smiled and tried her best to keep her eyes on Brandi’s face. Her old friend made a habit of trying to make her sweat but wasn’t overly obnoxious about it. “I promise I’m not secretly working with vice on some undercover sting operation to bring you down.”

  “As if,” Brandi said, then rolled over to her stomach and held up a bottle of lotion. “Would you mind?”

  “Nathan, you’re up,” she said, and his head dropped so fast she thought he’d fall forward.

  “When you’re done, she’s waiting inside in my office. Try not to give her a hard time.” Brandi glanced back at her and winked. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you go in and talk to her? Nathan and I need a minute.”