The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 2

by Fiona Snyckers

  “Very much.” This was the fourth woman who had been wearing a short, flowing dress. Fauve had been wearing her robe from the village. Agnes Nillson had been wearing a loose sundress, and so had Lisa Lavalle. It seemed to be a pattern.

  “I’m glad this is useful,” said Kelly. “After he’d driven past about four times, he stopped suddenly. He rolled down his window and I went to ask what he had in mind. He said he just wanted me to get in and drive.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “Not really. It usually means the guy’s a newbie. It’s all part of how they get their courage up.”

  “What were your impressions of him? You can tell me in any order that you remember them.”

  “I wish it was clearer in my mind. I know he had a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. That was one of the first things that made me uneasy – the fact that I couldn’t see him properly.”

  “Did you get any impression of his hair color?”

  “I’m not sure – medium brown, I think.”

  “And his build?”

  “He was a big guy. That was something he couldn’t hide. He was a big, buff guy. White, I think, with a bit of a tan. He was definitely tall. It was one of the first things I noticed about him.”

  “Can you remember what he was wearing?”

  “Uh… jeans. Yes, definitely blue jeans. And a white shirt. Or maybe it was a pale color. Either white or a very pale color.”

  “Any logo on the ball cap? Or on his shirt?”

  “I don’t think so. The cap was navy blue and had a big brim, but that’s all I remember.”

  “What about his voice? Do you remember anything about it? Did he have any kind of accent?”

  “He sounded like you all do. That Frenchy sing-song way of talking, with a bit of American mixed in. It was an island voice. I’d say he was local.”

  “How old do you think?”

  This seemed to stump her. “That’s a difficult one. At first, I got the impression he was quite young. I don’t know why. Maybe the way he spoke. But afterwards, I wasn’t so sure. He was so big and solid that it made me think he might have been older.”

  “So, what happened? How did you end up jumping out of his car?”

  “I kept thinking he was going to stop driving and get down to business. That’s what they usually do. They take you to some fleabag motel, or they find somewhere to park. But this guy kept driving and driving. I asked him if he wanted to park somewhere, and he said I should talk to him.”

  “Talk to him?”

  “Yes, tell him my troubles, you know? Confide in him. He wanted to know where I came from and how I ended up in this life. I kept trying to talk about sexy stuff – to get him in the mood? But he wasn’t having any of it. So, I tried to play along with what he wanted. I made up some sad story about my childhood, or whatever. He liked that. For a moment I thought we were finally in business, but he wouldn’t stop driving. Then I noticed we were on the coast road, and that we were heading north. And of course, my mind immediately jumped to the Robson’s Field murders. That’s literally all the media has been talking about for the last three days. That’s when I started to panic. I was in a car with a strange man – a very strange man – and he was driving me north for no good reason. There’s literally nothing up there except sugarcane fields. I could see myself being on the news tomorrow.”

  She stopped to compose herself as the tears began to fall again.

  “Was there something he said or did that tipped you off?”

  “Nah, it was a feeling that crept up on me. We came to that bend in the road where you have to slow down a lot if you don’t want to go flying into the sea. I knew that was my last chance. I grabbed the handle and opened the door. Then I just flung myself out onto the road. I tried to land on my feet, but I rolled immediately, and kept on rolling until I hit the curb. Then I was up and running as fast as my legs could carry me.”

  “Did he chase you? Did he shout, or hoot, or anything like that?”

  “I hardly remember. There was a kind of roaring in my head, but I think it was just adrenalin. There was a commotion behind me. Like squealing tires and hooting, but I’m not sure if that was him or another driver. I ran until I got to a building that still had its lights on, and then I ran inside there. Luckily, my phone hadn’t been crunched when I rolled because I could call someone. My… my friend took me to the hospital, and now here I am. That’s the whole story.”

  “I’m so glad you got out of that car.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “This has been an incredible help, Kelly. You could even call it a breakthrough. I’m starting to feel properly optimistic about stopping this guy.”

  “I hope you’re not just saying that.”

  “Ask Jimmy,” said Eulalie. “I never ‘just say’ anything. And speaking of Jim, I think we can call him back in now. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to tell me while he’s out.”

  Kelly shook her head.

  Eulalie stood up to let Jimmy in. Then she hesitated and turned back to Kelly. “Look,” she said, taking out a card. “What you do with your life is your own business, but if you ever decide you want to get out of the game, go and see this lady here. Her name is Angel de la Cour. Tell her I sent you. She’ll help you get trained up for another line of work. She’ll… well… she’ll just help you.”

  Kelly stood up as well. She took the card and threw it in a wastepaper basket. “You’re right,” she said. “What I do with my life is my own business.”

  “Fair enough. And thanks again for your help.”

  Eulalie left the room and went back down to the bar. Jimmy stuck his head around the door and looked at Kelly who was standing there, apparently deep in thought.

  “Ready, Kells?”

  “Ready,” she said.

  As she was about to leave the room, she bent and picked the card up out of the trash.

  Down in the bar, Eulalie waited for Jimmy to get back from escorting Kelly home. It didn’t surprise her that he was being so solicitous. Prostitution and drug running were two activities he had never been involved in, but he was known for his kindness to vulnerable young people.

  “Poor kid,” he said when he came back. “You can’t help feeling sorry for her.”

  “I really appreciate what you did tonight. You definitely earned a third beer.” She indicated the fresh lager she had ordered him.

  “Thanks, girlie. I hope you get this guy.”

  “You can count on it. Did you manage to find out anything about the three names I sent you?”

  “Not really. Only one of them popped for me. Your boy, Thashin. The school teacher? He’s been known to come around Finger Alley looking for blow.”

  “Cocaine? Really? I didn’t notice the signs when I interviewed him.”

  “It’s been a while since he was last here. Maybe he’s trying to quit. Or maybe he’s found another line of supply. He’s an ex-boxer, isn’t he? It’s not unheard of among those boys.”

  “Nothing on any of the others? Ronald Coward and Laurent Task? Nothing at all?”

  “Not a thing. Both solid citizens, as far as I can tell. They’re practically boy-scouts, those two.”

  “Hmm. Thanks again, Jimmy. I appreciate it.”

  “Enough, girlie. You’ll have me blushing like a girl.”

  Chapter 20

  It was after midnight when Eulalie stepped out of Finger Alley and onto Lafayette Drive. She fully intended to go home, but instead of turning down Bonaparte Avenue towards her apartment, she found herself walking on. There was a mellow vibe on Lafayette Boulevard at this time of night. Down on Beach Road, the clubs would be at their loudest, pumping hot salsa rhythms into the night air, but on Lafayette the music that spilled out of the bars and cafés was soothing to the ear. It was the music of Paris in the thirties, and Cuba in the sixties.

  As she passed a bar, she heard the plaintive call of the African pennywhistle – an instrument that belonged to her forest villag
e. It was the sound of her childhood and it sent shivers along her skin.

  She kept walking into downtown Queen’s Town, letting the sights and sounds of the town ease her soul. She realized now that she was heading to Angel’s Place. She needed a sympathetic ear and a shot of the local cane brandy.

  The warm glow of light and sound coming from Angel’s Place welcomed her as she approached, and she knew she had been right to come here.

  Gigi was sitting at the bar surrounded by textbooks and papers. She had a balance sheet in front of her and was writing down figures on it. Her face was relaxed, and she seemed completely absorbed in her work.

  “Big test tomorrow?” said Eulalie, sliding into her usual seat at the corner of the bar.

  Gigi looked up and smiled. “Just some homework. I’m nearly finished. Are you looking for Angel?”

  “Not particularly. There’s a cane brandy with my name on it, and if Angel forces me to drink citron pressé instead, I’m going to throw a tantrum.”

  Gigi laughed and signaled to the barman to pour Eulalie a double. He brought it to her with a candle, so she could warm her brandy over the flame.

  “There’s Angel.” Eulalie spotted her grandmother sitting at a table with one of the customers.

  Gigi made the final entry on her balance sheet and closed her book.

  “She’s got the Tarot cards out to give old Mr. Deniger a reading. Last I heard, she was telling him that the cards want him to drink less.”

  Eulalie laughed. “That sounds about right.”

  She took a sip of the warmed brandy and felt her jangled nerves begin to settle. Angel was wrapping things up with Mr. Deniger. She patted his shoulder and said a few words in his ear. He nodded and said something back. Then she looked up and caught sight of Eulalie at the bar. She said goodbye to her elderly customer and came over to greet her granddaughter.

  “A bit late for you, isn’t it, chérie?”

  “It is rather, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I went straight home, so I came here to unwind instead. Come and sit with me, Grandmère. I need to talk.”

  Angel let herself into the horseshoe-shaped bar through the serving hatch and came to sit opposite Eulalie.

  “What is it that ails you, mon ange?”

  As she sipped her brandy, Eulalie told her grandmother about the latest attempt to snatch a woman wearing a loose-fitting dress. She told her about her interview with Kelly, and how Jimmy the Knife had set it up.

  “I don’t understand it,” she said. “This man killed two girls over the course of twelve or thirteen years. They were both teenagers, both runaways, and both wandering the streets of Queen’s Town. That suggests that he has some measure of self-control, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not enough self-control to leave the girls alone in the first place. But yes, I see what you mean.”

  “The moment the police started finding evidence of those long-ago crimes, what did he do?”

  “He went on a spree of capturing women and trying to kill them within the space of a few days. It’s strange, I agree.”

  Eulalie twirled her brandy glass. “Lisa Lavalle and Kelly are both in their early twenties, not their teens. Lisa fits the profile of feeling upset and wandering the streets on her own, but Kelly doesn’t. She was clearly a sex worker waiting for clients. What is he up to? Why is he doing this?”

  “Maybe he’s panicking. He knows he’s going to be caught so he’s trying to go out with a bang.”

  “That’s possible. But if he hadn’t gone after Lisa and Kelly, he might never have been caught at all. We had precious little to go on after all these years.”

  “Maybe he wants to be caught. Maybe he wants someone to stop him.”

  “Maybe. He’s certainly leaving evidence all over the place. We might get a lead from one of the car rental companies, for instance.”

  “Let us hope so.”

  “She was coming back, you know.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Angel.

  “I dreamt about Fauve. For the first time ever, I dreamt about my mother.”

  Angel’s hand closed over Eulalie’s with almost painful strength.

  “What happened? What did you see?”

  “She was coming back to us. She had been feeling trapped and depressed, and wanted to get away for a few days. Then she was going to come back and settle into domestic life.”

  “I knew it,” said Angel. “I knew she hadn’t run away for good. What else did you see?”

  “She wasn’t afraid of him. To her he was the nice man who had given her a lift. He bought her an ice-cream and she loved it. He drove her to Robson’s Field saying he wanted to show her something. She never saw it coming – the blow that killed her. She was unsuspicious and unafraid. She died happy.”

  Eulalie’s heart constricted when she saw the tears running down her grandmother’s face.

  “Nothing else? He did nothing else to her?”

  “I swear to you he did not.”

  “You wouldn’t tell me this just to soothe me?”

  “Everything I am telling you is the honest truth, as I know it to be. You know how I’ve wanted to connect with her all these years. I’ve longed to dream about her, to know what she was thinking and feeling. I’ve tried so hard. But it never happened until now.”

  Angel lowered her head and made the sign of the cross. Eulalie made the same gesture.

  “May she rest in peace,” said Angel. “My baby. My little girl.”

  “I think she always has, Grandmère. The soul I connected with was not troubled.”

  Angel nodded, her voice wholly suspended.

  “She was so young,” said Eulalie. “I mean, I’ve always known objectively that she was fourteen. But somehow, because she was my mother, I thought of her as older. Now I know that she had the mind of a child. She was a child.”

  Angel dried her eyes. Her face appeared almost peaceful for the first time in weeks.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  “I wish I had a plan to catch him. Even if the chief and his officers manage to match him to the rental car, we still won’t have the proof we need for an arrest. Kelly didn’t see his face. Her testimony will be worthless.”

  “Won’t he try again?” said Angel. “He seems to be in the grip of a compulsion. I can’t believe he’s going to stop now.”

  “Agreed. I need to figure out how to turn that to my advantage.”

  Eulalie finished her drink and walked home through the quietening streets of Queen’s Town. She felt much calmer than she had earlier. She was starting to see an outline of the next steps she could take in her investigation. It had been like looking down a dark tunnel, but now there was a glimmer of light.

  She got into bed at one-thirty and fell asleep with her arms wrapped around the cat. She slept dreamlessly for seven hours.

  Eulalie woke with a jump when her cellphone alarm blared in her ear at eight-thirty the next morning. In just thirty-one minutes, she would officially be late for work.

  She leapt out of bed, much to the cat’s indignation, and flung herself into the shower for five frenzied minutes.

  Then she wrapped a towel around her body, and another around her head, and fed Paddy at record speed. He gave her several dark looks for disturbing his morning routine with all this unaccustomed activity.

  She ate her cereal standing up over the sink, dumped the bowl and spoon into the dishwasher, and went to her bedroom to get dressed. Her hair was sopping wet, so she ran a blow-dryer over it. She slapped on some makeup and exited the apartment in a hurry.

  “I’m not late!” she announced as she skidded into the office at one minute to nine.

  “That’s nice, dear,” said Mrs. Belfast, bending to stroke Paddy.

  “How did he get here before me? He was lying in a patch of sun when I left the apartment. He must have teleported.”

  “He takes a short cut through the window.”

  “I haven’t had coffee. I’ll pop across the
road and get us both one.”

  “You sit down and check your emails, dear. I’ll go.”

  Eulalie took a deep breath and did exactly that. She hadn’t cleared her inbox in two days. It was creeping up to fifty unread emails. She deleted the junk, replied to whatever needed a reply, and marked some messages for follow-up. Her coffee was finished by the time she had achieved inbox zero, and she felt a lot more in control. When she spent whole days at a time out in the field, it was easy to worry that things in the office were running away from her.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. B,” said Eulalie. “I feel as though I can face the day now.”

  “It’s a pleasure, dear. Is there anything I can do for you before I start my work?”

  “You can tell me how one looks at three suspects and knows which one is the murderer.”

  “So, you’ve narrowed it down to three, dear?”

  “That’s right. The table-tennis player is too young.”

  “And you’ve interviewed all of them?”

  “I have.”

  “And do you have a suspicion as to who it might be?”

  “Yes,” said Eulalie. “I do have a suspicion, but I can’t prove it. All I have is an inconsistent statement by one of the suspects.”

  “These men – these suspects – do they have wives or family? People who are close to them?”

  “Two of them have wives and one is close to his parents. What do you have in mind?”

  “I always think that the people who are closest to men like this know what is going on. On some level they know. They might be in denial. They might not know everything. They might be actively working to protect their men. But on some level, they know.”

  “You think it might be worth interviewing the wives and families?”

  “Without warning, and without the men knowing about it. If they know in advance, the men will prepare them for what they should say. You need to come at them unexpectedly and get them talking before they can consult their men. One of these women knows something, however much she might want to deny it.”