by John Moore
She bounced out of my place like a rabbit with dogs chasing it on her way to work on our marketing campaign. I knew it would be great because she had a magic touch with marketing.
I climbed the stairs to Piper’s bedroom after Charlotte left. She was chatting online with Karen Durio at the center. Karen was telling her about growing up in Louisiana with all of the festivals to attend and the rich music-infused culture. And then there was the food. Karen loved to cook Cajun style and cooked every night at the center for the residents.
“Alexandra, Karen is so cool,” Piper said. “She has lots of plans to do great things with her life. She wants to own a restaurant someday. Isn’t that cool?”
“It sure is, and I’ll bet she pulls it off too,” I said.
Piper signed off with Karen to show me the National Weather Center website. “I’ve been reading about the formation of hurricanes in the tropics. There is an unusual amount of activity this year.” Piper looked up from the computer screen and rolled her eyes at me. “Do you think we’ll get hit by one of these two that are forming in the Atlantic Ocean now?”
I patted her shoulder and said, “There’s really no way to tell. The Weather Service has computers that try to predict the possible tracks the hurricanes might take, but no one knows for certain. We are always prepared here in Louisiana.”
“I watched the television news reports when Katrina hit New Orleans,” she said. “It was horrible. All of those people stranded with nowhere to go. I am afraid it will happen again.”
“I know it was horrible. I hadn’t moved to New Orleans yet, but I watched it on television too,” I said. “I felt so sorry for all of those people without food, water, or shelter. I’ve asked my friends who were born and raised here, and they say the government wasn’t prepared. I don’t think Louisiana would be caught flat-footed again. But it’s a good idea to keep your eye on the National Weather Service website to know what’s going on. Hurricanes are unpredictable.”
My cell phone showed a missed call from Jess Johnson. That was weird because I didn’t hear it ring. “Huh, Jess called me a minute ago while we were talking, but I didn’t hear my phone ring. Did you?”
“No, but that might be my fault,” Piper said. “Once I heard Victor was back in town I scrambled all signals coming in or out of our condo. I’d programmed your, mine, and Tom’s phone to find the signals anyway, but something must have gone wrong. Give me your phone and I’ll re-program it.”
“Good idea, Piper,” I said. “Will he be able to clone my phone when I’m away from here?”
“Nope, I’ve taken care of that too. Our phones will bounce from signal to signal of different carriers, completely untraceable. It will blow Victor’s mind because his people don’t know that can even be done, much less how to stop it. They are clueless.”
Piper gave me one of those smiles she didn’t brandish often. She was so proud that she’d beaten Victor and his hacking machine, and I was proud of her too. No wonder Victor tried to get her to work for him in Russia. She could do anything with a computer.
I went out on the balcony and returned Jess’s call while Piper worked on reprogramming her signal-jamming program. “Hi, Alexandra,” Jess said and launched right into the business of her call as always, not caring much for small talk. “I’ve learned more about Victor Ivanovich’s intentions in New Orleans. I would like you to stop by my office tomorrow so I can fill you in.”
“Sure, Jess, I have to know what he’s up to. I’ll be there at nine o’clock if that works for you.”
“That’ll be fine,” she said as she hung up the phone.
Good thing she hung up when she did because I dropped the phone along with my jaw. There in the shadows was Bob Broussard, the Quarter Killer.
Chapter Eighteen:
Dirty Deeds
He was just standing there staring at me. When my eyes caught his, he turned and walked away. Oh my God, how creepy was that? This was the second time I caught him standing on Bourbon Street looking at me. I felt like he was performing reconnaissance for his criminal grand finale, and I felt so vulnerable. I ran inside and strapped my gun to my leg. I vowed to wear it as long as I needed. If blood was to be spilled, it wasn’t going to be mine, and it certainly wasn’t going to be my family’s.
I stayed on the balcony for a while like a sentry manning the guard tower in the Old West. It was unnerving to see a serial killer watching me from a distance. Was he stalking his prey? Is that why he made it easy for us to buy this condo? That was the only explanation I could come up with. I couldn’t get him off of my mind, and I didn’t care what his motivation was. This place was Tom and Piper’s and my home now. No one was going to run us out.
When Tom came home, I told him what I’d seen, and he adjusted one of the cameras on the security system to cover the place where Bob was standing. We went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind was torturing me with thoughts of death by the hands of one of the three demons from my past. I tossed and turned and finally gave up trying to sleep at five o’clock the next morning.
Once again I went out on the balcony. The Quarter was peaceful, gently waking and moving ever so slowly. This was such a beautiful city filled with the most interesting people a person could want to meet. We were all happy living in the Quarter. I wondered if life would settle down so I could relax or if I was destined to deal with evil all of my life. I’d learned that evil and good battled it out in the world for control of people’s minds. No one was all good or all evil, but some had given into their evil ways and abandoned the high road in favor of the acquisition of material possessions. I didn’t want to become one of those people, nor did I want Piper to.
But this morning there was no good and no evil. There was only the quiet rhythm of the city awakening. I loved the morning and wondered what the day would bring. I had a few hours to relax before Piper and I were to leave to see Jess. Piper joined me with her youthful exuberance brimming over. She’d been on the dark web visiting Victor’s websites. Seems he’d gotten into online gambling in addition to his smut sites.
“Victor’s online gambling sites are based in the recently annexed portion of Crimea,” Piper said. “He must have political protection there.”
“Hmmm,” I muttered. “I wonder if he intends to move his operation there.”
“I’m not sure, but I do know one thing,” she said. “He’s planning to come to New Orleans.”
I can’t say I was shocked, but I was curious to know where she got her information. “What makes you think he’s coming to New Orleans?”
“He just opened a new online gambling website and is calling it ‘Orleans Casino,’” she said. “He’s has pictures of nearly naked girls all over the site. He advertises that gamblers can win personally guided tours of the city along with their financial winnings.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “He’s offering sex tours of New Orleans. That’s confirmation he’s bringing his prostitution operation here now that Clint is gone. Piper, I’m afraid this city won’t take that lying down,” I added, blushing as she giggled at my unintended pun.
Tom joined us on the balcony with coffee in hand, and we changed the subject to the LaPlace farming operation. I didn’t want to overly alarm Tom about Victor until I found out more. I couldn’t wait to hear what Jess had discovered and tell her what Piper had found. Still, I couldn’t understand why Victor and Rogan would team up. What did they have in common other than me? Maybe that was it. They just wanted to get rid of me.
We talked about the farm for another couple of hours till it was time to get ready to go see Jess. Tom was completely enamored with the thought of farming and supplying healthy food to the people of New Orleans. He was a bit of an idealist like his parents only without the hippie streak. I could see us growing old together helping people, growing closer to each other the more time we spent together.
Piper and I lit out for Jess�
�s office through the early morning traffic. It was nice to leave the Quarter for a while and join the so-called normal people, the ones with suits and shoes with heels. Piper and I were treated like longtime employees at the Times now. We walked straight into Jess’s office.
I was taken aback by what I saw. Jess was seated behind her desk as always, but she was frail and emaciated, cheekbones protruding and her head covered with a knit cap. Her movements were slow and measured, and her eyes sunken but sharp.
She spoke with a quiet, wispy voice, “Good to see you two. Come in and have a seat.”
Piper sat quietly by my side, and I asked, “How are you feeling, Jess?”
She cracked a half smile and said, “Feeling just how I look. Not worth a shit. But I didn’t ask you to come here to talk about me. I want to tell you about Rogan and Victor.” She paused to cough and spit into a tissue. “They’ve teamed up to use each other’s strengths to gain a foothold in New Orleans.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, only to give her a second to catch her breath.
“Victor has his hacking farm that Rogan needs to conceal his past and future dirty deeds, and Victor needs Rogan’s political contacts to look the other way while he moves in on the Dixie Mafia.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “Those two working together can’t be good for anyone. Victor’s mistake last time was underestimating Clint. But with Clint gone, he’s got a clear shot at taking over.”
“You are right about that,” Jess said. “One of the reasons I asked you to stop by today is to see if you’ve found out anything about the cause of the explosion at ACC’s plant. My sources tell me Bart Rogan was out at that plant last week and his guys are all over the plant today. If he’s there, something shady is going on.”
I stood up and closed her door. “Tom’s crew took samples of contaminated water in the Gulf that a lab said contained the same chemicals that ACC was producing in their plant. Tom didn’t think they could conclusively prove that the contamination came from ACC’s plant, but they were trying to make the connection.”
Jess shook her head in disgust. “It will never end. I’ve been doing this job and loving this city all of my life, which may be coming to an end. In those years, I have seen terrible things happen in New Orleans. I watched murders in the suburbs, gangs robbing and killing tourists in the French Quarter, the BP oil leak, Katrina flood the city, and now the worst catastrophe possible is happening to our city. Victor Ivanovich and his heartless Russian Mafia are about to terrorize the working girls: Bart Rogan and his ACC devils are polluting the river and Gulf beyond repair; and serial killingsareparalyzing people in their homes. These are truly dark days for New Orleans.”
Piper had sat during our entire discussion without saying a word. She locked her eyes on Jess’s and didn’t release her gaze. Finally Piper spoke in a soft, hopeful voice, “These may be dark days, but just like you said, many terrible things have happened in the past, yet the city has survived. You survived, the music survived, and the light-hearted spirit of the people survived. We will survive these dark days too.”
A solitary tear welled up in each of Jess’s eyes. “Pardon an old lady’s moment of weakness,” she said. “You are right, my dear. Somehow, we’ll find a way to make it, and it is young people like you and Alexandra who will lead the way.”
My heart ached at the sight of this proud, strong women weakened by the blight of cancer. “Jess, why don’t I change the focus of the series I’m writing for the paper,” I said. “I’d like to write a series called ‘Love and Loss in the Crescent City.’ I can detail the killings of the Quarter Killer, followed by the killing of the environment by the chemical industry, the war between the Russians, and the Dixie Mafia, and describe the love the New Orleaneans have for their city, wrapping it up by trying to solve the current ritualistic killings. What do you think?”
Jess threw her hands above her head with a speed and gracefulness that evoked memories of her younger days.“Hallelujah! That is a fantastic idea. You are onto something that’ll impact the people of this city. Journalism has changed forever because of the Internet. Everyone has the opportunity to report and comment on events in real time. People are interested in folks who are actively engaged in changing lives. Dash cam footage and cell phone videos posted on YouTube tell stories better than we could on our best days when I was a young reporter. If you can tell the story of the murders in New Orleans and the love the people have for their city, they will rally to your side.”
We left Jess anchored to her desk, her back hunched a bit as she struggled to make it through another day. I turned to look at her one more time, knowing this might be the last time I saw her in this world. Above her as always were the words the defined her life:
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Edmund Burke
Piper and I headed to Detective Demetre Baker’s office to learn what we could about the killings in the Quarter and the advance of Victor Ivanovich on New Orleans. Piper and Jess seemed to bond over the last few months as if they’d known each other all their lives. No wonder, because Jess was an inspiration to any woman seeking to make her mark on the world. She was courageous, confident, and deadly smart. She’d become a fixture in the city at a time when women were supposed to stay at home, barefoot and pregnant. That wasn’t a bad life for many women, but Jess wanted to get off of the porch and run with the big dogs. Good old boys got out of the way when she headed in their direction. I hoped she would beat the cancer just like she’d beaten the odds all of her life.
Piper and I walked into the precinct like we were on the police force. I knew many of the officers by name, and they certainly knew Piper and me. Detective Baker escorted us to his office, catching smirks from his fellow officers, figuring if we were there, trouble wasn’t far behind.
“So, you’ve been talking to Jess,” he said. “How’s she doing? I mean with her cancer. She only tells me she’s fine and there’s nothing to worry about. She forgets that I’m a detective and I know when people are lying to me.”
Piper looked at me, avoiding Detective Baker’s piercing gaze. “She doesn’t look good at all,” I said. “She’s lost quite a bit of weight. I think the chemotherapy is taking a heavy toll on her, but her spirits are good.” The last statement was a little white lie Baker didn’t believe but let me get away with. Neither of us could bear the thought of what might happen to Jess, so we changed the subject.
“What brings you to my office today?” he asked, casting a sideways glance at me.
I was cautious in my approach since I knew he couldn’t tell me the details of the investigation of the most recent murders in the Quarter. I decided to offer him some information to set a cooperative tone. “I know you think Bob Broussard may be responsible for the recent murders in the Quarter. Piper and I need to tell you about a ceremony Mandy Morris and her group conducted a few nights ago. We went to the backroom of a local voodoo shop and witnessed a dozen or so black-robed participants chanting at an altar, and one by one, they marchedup to it to light a candle. Piper wanted to light a candle, so we approached the altar just like everyone else. A framed photo of Bob Broussard was displayed alongside the candles in the center of the altar. I questioned Mandy, and she denied the group worshiped Bob. I wasn’t so sure. Something is wrong with those people. You should check them out.”
“They are on our radar, but I didn’t know they had connections to Bob Broussard,” he said. “The killings are ritualistic, and they seem to have a voodoo connection. There is something more to these murders though. The victimology is all over the board. These seem to be victims of opportunity. The method of killing isn’t consistent either, and there is a sadistic aspect to them.”
I decided to push my luck a little. “I’ve heard the killer has left notes on the victims,” I said. “Is that true?”
Detective Baker looked around the room as if to mak
e certain no one was listening before he answered.“You know I can’t tell you anything about evidence left at the scene. So if you’ve heard something outside of this room, I won’t deny it.”He threw me a wink as his face twisted into a coy smile.
“I’ve got something else to ask you about if you don’t mind,” I said.
Baker’s smile broadened a bit. “And if I do mind, will that stop you?”
Piper giggled and said, “I don’t think it would stop her. She’s used to getting her way.”
I didn’t mind being the butt of their jokes since not only was it funny, but also it was true. I needed to know more about what we were facing with Clint gone and Victor making a move on the Dixie Mafia. “With Clinton Cunningham gone, what will happen to his organization?”
“They have gotten weaker over the years,” he said. “Their real bosses are in the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola, and they can’t effectively battle Victor from there. Most of their guys are old timers and aren’t savvy with the Internet, so they will have a hard time fighting Victor. Still, things could get really bloody because they are bound to defend their turf. You’d better be careful that you don’t get caught in the crossfire now that you live in the Quarter.”
“What about the poor working girls?” I asked. “They have no way to defend themselves. Most of them have nowhere to go. They will be collateral damage, as Victor likes to say. Can’t you do anything to protect them?”
Baker shook his head. “Most of them have no family, or at least no family that cares about them. Besides, they don’t trust the police, andthey don’t want our help. I’m afraid they will have to choose a side and pray for the best.”