by John Moore
“Garrett is your uncle and a member of your group,” I said. “Do you really expect me to believe he wasn’t part of why I was there?”
“I promise, Alexandra, he’s got nothing to do with Bob and me. I hate him and so does Bob. He started molesting me when I was only eight years old and kept it up till I was fourteen. Bob and I have been planning to kill him for years, but I haven’t found the courage yet.”
“Shit,” Piper said.
“So what do you know about his plan?” I asked. “Bob didn’t tell me anything except Garrett and Roganwere working together.”
“I don’t know any more than Bob told you,” Mandy said. “But I think you can find out if you can get Amanda to talk. I believe Garrett’s put her under his spell and is controlling her. If anyone knows, she does.”
“Does she live with your uncle?” I asked.
“No, she has a studio apartment on the lower end of the French Quarter,” Mandy answered. “She lives alone. I have to warn you though, she’s gotten a little weird since she’s been hanging out with Uncle Garrett.”
When we got back to the condo, Tom was in the kitchen preparing to cook wild salmon. Piper went to her room to shower and change before supper, and I ran to Tom’s arms. It had been a long day for me, and I needed his strong arms around me as tight as I could stand.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “Did something happen at the cemetery to upset you?”
I told him the whole story about the shovels, the dirt, and the encounter with Bob Broussard. Tom was as stumped as I was as to why Bob was looking out for me. Of course, when he had his chance to kill me before he just stared at me all night and left in the morning without touching a hair on my head. He told me it was because I was different than the others. Maybe he was being truthful. That is, as truthful as an insane person can be. Tom suggested I take a quick shower and meet him, Maddy, Zach, and Piper on the balcony for a salmon, broccoli, and brown rice supper.
“If wine goes with that invitation, mister, you’ve got a date,” I said.
“You’d better believe it does,” he said. “I think we both need a glass of wine with what we have to face.”
I was happy to have Tom in my life. We shared the same passions, and besides, he cooked. I hadn’t eaten all day since I was traveling, and airport food wasn’t what I needed. Then to have a serial killer grab me at a cemetery, triggering my fight or flight response—it had all left me in dire need of food and wine, mostly wine. I looked at my gun in my drawer and thought that if I’d had it tonight, I might have shot Bob Broussard. Would that have been the right thing to do? I didn’t know, and I was happy I didn’t have to think about it tonight.
Zach, Maddy, and Piper were already on the balcony, so I joined them. The tensions of the day dissipated when I took in our view of the French Quarter. The neighborhood was hopping with life. People were roaming from bar to bar, laughing, dancing, and drinking beer, wine, and spirits. Tom had broken out the wine, and I poured a glass as soon as I sat down.
Maddy was the first to speak.“Are you coming with us to the house in LaPlace tomorrow, Alexandra? We are fired up and ready to roll on getting the place ready.”
I turned my eyes toward Zach and said, “Are you up to the challenge, Zach?”
“Alexandra, I am more than ready to start working on the house,” he said. “I know we have a great deal of work to do, but honestly it will be fun. Working with my hands makes me happy. It was what I was born to do. I won’t lie to you. I was disappointed that we were delayed in Indiana, because I want our organic farm to be a tremendous success. It’s all a part of the process. The work we do on the house puts us one step closer to farming.”
His words brought a smile to my face as I looked at him and Maddy. “You two are the best. I wish I could go with you tomorrow, but I need to go see Detective Baker and tell him what happened at the cemetery tonight. He needs to know what Bob Broussard said to me.”
Piper gave me a perplexed look. “Why would you tell the police what you’ve learned if you are trying to write an exclusive story?” she asked. “Won’t they leak it to the other members of the press?”
“Normally, you would be right,” I said. “Detective Baker and I have a unique relationship. He has shared sensitive information with me and even risked his career to help me. I owe him and I completely trust him, and you should too.”
“I wish you were coming with us,” Maddy said. “With all of these guys around, Piper and I need another woman’s opinion. I guess we’ll just have to wing it.”
Tom served supper on the balcony. Maddy had a couple of citronella candles burning, and the night air was clean and cool. We dined like Bourbon Street royalty as we talked, laughed, and watched the crowds amble by. It felt good to be in my own home with close friends, safe from the outside world.
When supper was over we washed the dishes as a team. Tom had poured a second glass of wine for me and I’d worked my way through half of it. The wine and the company emptied the stress from my body. Tom snuck behind me and whispered in my ear. “Want to go upstairs spend some quality time together?”
We hadn’t been able to spend that type of time together for a while. I grabbed his hand and said, “I’ll race you to the bed.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. We walked hand in hand to our bedroom as the others went back to the balcony. When we entered the room, I closed the door and placed a kiss on Tom’s lips. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close. We kissed like we did on the dance floor of the Rex Ball on our first night together, our tongues dancing in unison as our bodies melted into each other.
I broke our kiss long enough to slip the long T-shirt I was wearing over my head and drop my shorts to the floor. Tom stepped back to enjoy my brief and feverish strip show. He threw off his shirt and dropped his pants. I pushed him backward onto the bed and removed his shoes and socks and then slid his pants completely off. He lay there in his boxers watching as I slowly inched down each strap of my bra, then unfastened the back to let it drop to the floor.
Tom let out a low moan as he attempted to sit up and reach for me. I pushed him back flat on the bed and removed his boxers. I suspect his eyes rolled back in his head as I swallowed him passionately. He was helpless as he slowly moved his legs in ecstasy. When I had satisfied my need to possess him orally, I gradually slid my black lace panties off and slung them against the wall with my foot.
Once again he tried to move, but I mounted him in a swift lunge that would have surely won me a gold medal at the Olympics. We groaned together as I rocked back and forth. I controlled the motion and I controlled the moment. As his moans got louder and we seemed to lose control, I slowed and sometimes came to a complete stop. I wanted to savor this moment and make it last.
Soon we rocked together like a ship on stormy seas. The waves built, getting bigger and stronger till we were nearly out of breath. Then we burst through together, muffling our screams and releasing our passion. I rolled off Tom and we slipped under the covers, welded together and completely spent.
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Future Farm
The morning sun burst through our bedroom window like a policeman knocking down the door of a crack house. When the rays hit my face, they woke me from the deep sleep state reserved for lovers. I sat up in the bed, spun around, and picked up from the floor the clothes Tom and I’d shed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed a smile I’d not seen for some time. It was a warm, satisfied smile coming from somewhere deep inside. Thoughts of our approaching wedding day flooded my mind. It was only a week and a half away, and my excitement was building.
Tom stirred as I moved around the room. Brushing along lock of hair that had fallen in his left eye, he said, “Good morning, pretty girl. How did you sleep?”
I felt that familiar tingle when I heard his pet name for me. I loved being called “pretty girl” tho
ugh he was stretching the truth this morning, my hair a mess of angry snakes. “I slept like a rock. What did you put in my wine last night?” I joked.
Always quick with a comeback line, he said, “I don’t think it was what I put in the wine that did it.”
I threw one of his socks at his head and he ducked under the covers. “Get up and come drink coffee with me on the balcony,” I said.
“Why don’t you come over here and get me?” he answered.
“No way. I know your game. You’ll wrestle me back in the bed and make me worthless for the rest of the day,” I said. “You need to get up and get moving. Don’t forget you and the gang are going to the farm today. I’ll bet they are all ready to go right now.”
I dressed and escaped the room while I still could. Tom followed me onto the balcony, and just as predicted everyone was dressed and ready to head to LaPlace. We drank our coffee, and I was pleased to see the enthusiasm the gang showed about getting the farm ready. Momentarily, I forgot about the evil forces trying to stop us from succeeding, imagining we had clear sailing ahead. Soon the weight of reality reminded me of the challenges we faced.
“One of the guys from the lab we used at work is meeting us in LaPlace to get soil samples to test,” Tom said.
Maddy cast a confused look at him. “Why do we need soil samples? Wasn’t the land a farm already?”
“It was, but not all plants grow in the same soil,” Tom said. “Each has different needs. Jason told me to get the soil tested and he would be able to recommend the crops that will do best in the soil we have. He also told me that it is important to rotate crops properly so as not to deplete the soil. Industrial farms just apply chemical fertilizers to the soil to enhance production.”
“Is that bad?” Piper asked.
“Yes, it is, Piper,” Tom answered. “Modern fertilizer consists of varying amounts of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. These three are believed to be essential for plants to grow and are extracted from the soil with each harvest. Nitrogen creates most of the environmental problems. Rain causes excess nitrogen to run into streams, lakes, and the Gulf of Mexico. The large amount of nitrogen kills aquatic life, throwing the environment out of balance.”
“That sounds bad,” Piper said.
“It is very bad, and the problem is getting worse,” Tom added.
“Where does the nitrogen come from to make fertilizer?” Zach asked.
“Well, that’s another problem. It is refined from natural gas. So you have drilling operations, pipelines, refineries, and fertilizer plants that contribute to the environmental problems we have in addition to the water pollution,” Tom said.
“Wow,” Zach moaned. “Jason told me that all of that fertilization, herbicide, and pesticide treatment of the land wasn’t necessary to grow healthy crops. He said that industrial farm operations love it because it increases their yield per acre. They are large corporations with stockholders that demand a healthy return on their investment. Their main crop is money, and they are under intense pressure to produce lots of it. Their management teams are paid gargantuan bonuses for creating profit, and not a penny for being good stewards of our environment.”
“That’s messed up,” Piper said.
I hadgotten used to Tom’s professor-type lectures and had learned to enjoy them, that is, as long as my attention span would let me. The picture was becoming clearer to me as they talked. “The corporate, industrial agribusiness operations need to maximize their production per acre, so they overuse pesticides, herbicides, and fertilizers,” I said. “So these corporate giants in farming depend heavily on the chemical companies to mass produce food, and the chemical companies need the corporate farmers to purchase their chemicals to return dividends to their investors. No wonder ACC and Aggrow have teamed up to shut down the organic food movement.”
“That’s right,” Zach said. “Alexandra, your website has a worldwide following now. They know if you spread the word about the negative health effects of pesticide-and herbicide-ridden food, it might start a movement they can’t control.”
“There’s already a movement,” I said feebly, but I knew they were right. Something I was doing was making a difference.
“Correct,” Tom added. “You are dangerous to them. People are slowly waking up to the dangers of processed food and decreasing the amount of sugar-laden beverages and foods they consume. They worry about what would happen if the young people who read your blog and go to your website only want organic food. They fear you could put them out of business. They’ve brought Victor into their evil group because he has the hacking farm to combat your web efforts.”
“Victor doesn’t need much encouragement because he wants to control the underbelly of New Orleans,” I said. “With Clint out of the way, there doesn’t look like there is anything to stop him, and I’m the only person standing in his way because I know about his dark web activity.”
Piper said, “Yeah, but he’s erased all of it.”
I patted her back and said, “I know, Piper, but he worries that we could uncover it again and use your web talents to expose him. He probably considers us loose ends that need to be tied up.”
I left them talking on the balcony to get ready to go to see Detective Baker. Maddy followed me inside and said, “Alexandra, I need to talk to you before you leave. It’s about Zach.”
“What about Zach?” I asked.
“Some of his old drug friends have been calling, asking him to go out with them, and I worry about him backsliding. We need to get him on the farm and keep him busy,” she said.
“I agree. I’ll talk to Tom later and we’ll expedite the LaPlace operation. Jason should be arriving soon to help. Don’t worry, Maddy, we’ll get through this and Zach will be fine.”
After listening to Tom talk about pollution created by the industrial farm operations, I felt even better about the course we were on. I knew it would be difficult to grow the products and deliver them to ordinary people at reasonable prices, but I was convinced it could be done, and we were just the group to do it too.
I dressed and drove to the precinct to meet with Detective Baker. The officers were so familiar with me that they just motioned me back to his office without an escort. Baker was seated at his desk, poring over a file. I knocked on the doorframe of the open door and he motioned me in.
“Alexandra, come in and have a seat,” he said. “I’m glad you stopped by because I was going to call you in a few minutes anyway. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
He paused for a moment and my heart leapt into my throat. “What?” I asked, fearing the answer.
“It’s about Jess. She’s in the hospital. She’s not doing well at all,” he said. “The treatments for her cancer have taken a toll on her body and they’ve confined her to her bed.”
“Ohno,” I said. “Can I visit her?”
“I don’t think so. According to her doctor, she’s in a great deal of pain, so they’ve heavily sedated her. I don’t think she would even know you were there.”
“But she’s going to be OK, isn’t she?” I asked. “I mean, the cancer treatments are working and she’s getting better?”
“We hope, but there are no guarantees at this point,” he said as he wiped a small tear from his eye. He shifted the subject and said, “What can I do for you today?”
“I had an encounter with Bob Broussard last night, and I thought you would like to know about it,” I said. “I went on Mandy Morris’s cemetery tour with Piper. While everyone’s attention was on Marie Laveau’s grave, he grabbed me and dragged me to a dark corner of the cemetery. He told me that Bart Rogan has recruited Mandy’s uncle Garrett to go after me. He didn’t know what Garrett Morris’s role was, but he felt like he should warn me.”
“Really? That’s interesting,” he said. “Did he say anything about turning himself in for the most recent murders in the Quarter?”<
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“He spoke in riddles. He said what if he wasn’t the killer and what if the killer was one of the other members of Mandy’s cult? I don’t know what to believe. He’s not all there. He did kill eight women and end up in the loony bin, yet for some reason he likes me and he’s looking out for me. I don’t think he’d admit it to me if he were the killer.”
“He’s crazy and you can’t believe a word he said,” Baker barked. “Do you think Mandy Morris knows where we can find him?”
“I’m sure she at least knows how to get in touch with him,” I said. “She told him I was going to the cemetery with her and Piper. I’m sure of it.”
Detective Baker pecked away at his computer and then buzzed the file room. He spouted out a file number to the clerk on the other end of the phone and asked her to bring it to him. In less time than it took me to ask what room Jess was in, the clerk walked in with the file and plopped it in front of him. Baker leafed through the pages before he looked up and spoke.
“Hmm,” he said. “Looks like Garrett Morris has been arrested a few times. No convictions though. I’m sure the DA fixed the charges for him and threw the cases out.”
I tried to stretch my neck across the desk to read the small print on the pages, but the file was too far away. But I was a reporter, and I was there to get answers as well as to give information. “What was he arrested for?”
“None of this is secret,” he said. “It’s all public record, so I can tell you. No need to strain your eyes trying to read the file upside down.” He let a small smile turn the sides of his mouth up. “Says here ‘soliciting prostitutes, gambling, dog fighting, and public intoxication.’ He’s quite the solid citizen, isn’t he?”
“Detective Baker, who do you think is killing the people in the Quarter?”
He paused for a second. He stood, closed the door to his office, and sat in the chair next to me. He leaned toward me and whispered, “I think Bob Broussard is probably right. All of the murders have a cult-like feel to them. The killer is placing nursery rhymes on the bodies. Another common thread in the killings is that a long hatpin is stuck through the left ear clean through to the right ear of each victim. The murders take place somewhere else, and the bodies are being dumped in the Quarter.”