by Jerry Brown
Bowman smiled and answered, "That's it."
"John, I'm not at all sure that I can get them to agree to Powell. That may throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing."
Bowman pursed his lips then smiled and lightly grasped Flint's forearm. "Well, if it does, that's no problem for me. I just won't come and there'll be no hard feelin's. But I must say that I'm savin' the city a ten thousand dollar fee if I don't solve it. And I think we both agree there's very little chance that's goin' to happen. But for what it's worth, the city will have my name and my best effort. I think they're getting a hell of a deal. All it's goin' to cost them is two donated rooms and the per diem. If by some wild chance I should solve it, fifteen grand would be a pittance. Yes, that's one hell of a deal.”
Flint and Bowman made their way to his car. As he opened the door, Bowman said, "I'll tell you what. Don't come all the way back out here, unless they don't go for it. In that case we can visit a while. If I don't hear from you by ten o'clock tonight, I'll assume it's a go and I'll call you at work a little before noon Monday. Then you can meet us and show us where we'll be stayin'. Have photocopies of everything available on the case with you because I want to get started as soon as I can orient Emrick."
"Good enough," Flint said. "I'll run on and get started and see you either tomorrow or Monday." He forced his body down into the driver's seat of the small car. Bowman bent over to look through the side window. "I'll see you Monday, Bill Ed, and I sure hope you will be named my contact. It'll be nice to spend time with you again."
"You have more confidence than I do that I can work this thing out. The superintendent doesn't have the slightest notion of what police work is really about. He'll get his back up over your dictating the deal. He'll be a problem. You've forgotten how bureaucracy works."
He backed away from the car. "No, I haven't forgotten, but you're not just talkin' about bureaucracy - that's just politics. I know a little about that, too. Believe me, he'll take the deal."
Flint shrugged once more as he cranked the engine and gave a slight wave as he slowly drove away.
Chapter 16
The cot creaked when Bowman rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He remained prostrate for a few moments while he stared at the cracks in the plaster of the old kitchen ceiling. Then, fully awake, he forced himself to sit up and stretch to relieve his back, sore from the confines of the cot. Having tidied up the place on the previous evening, he set himself to shaving, brushing his teeth and dressing.
After putting on a light blue button down shirt and khaki cotton slacks, he wiggled his feet into boating moccasins, and picked up a large suitcase carrying his blue blazer over his arm. The door to the kitchen was closed without a backward glance, as he walked slowly to his car, placing the suitcase in the trunk and laying his coat across the back seat. Emrick was standing on the porch of his mother's house when he arrived. There were three bulging pillowcases resting on the porch. "Are you ready to go?" Bowman asked as he opened the car door and made his way to unlock the trunk. By the time the trunk lid sprang open, Emrick stood alongside him with two of the pillowcases. "Din' thank you was ever gone git heah. Been ready since Mama left." Bowman pointed to the trunk. "Put those anywhere you like. I'll get the other one. Do you have anything else?" "Naw, tha's everythin'." As Bowman punched down the last pillowcase and closed the trunk, he asked, "Do you need to go over and tell your mother goodbye?" Emrick fidgeted. "No, done dat. Le's get on down de road." "Okay Emrick calm yourself. We're on our way." Driving through Woodville and heading south on route 61, Bowman's attention was drawn to the estates and farmland, anticipating what might be over the next hill. Emrick slouched down in the seat, his arms crossed, and seemed to take no notice the scenery and beautiful houses. He chattered incessantly and Bowman ignored him only with effort. But once they reached Baton Rouge, things changed. Bowman watched as Emrick sat up in the seat when they passed the lake and carefully manicured expanse making up the part of the LSU campus visible from the road. Later he seemed drawn to the skyline formed by the office buildings of downtown Baton Rouge, rising at a distance to the west. Bowman smiled inwardly when Emrick's expression changed from fascination to fearful awe as they crossed the long bridges spanning the western edges of Lake Ponchartrain. The only sight of land was marshland off to the distant right. Emrick's eyes were large and Bowman thought his young friend's heart must be beating 100 miles per hour. Bowman fought boredom from the tedious sameness of the surroundings and the hypnotic effect of the rhythmic thump of the tires on the concrete in contrast with the swish made passing the concrete bridge siding. Aware of Emrick's fear of the water, he asked, "Do you want me to go faster and get past all this water?"
"Dis ole junky car prolly goin' all it can git." Bowman grinned and stomped the gas petal. The car lurched and the thumps quickly became almost continuous. When he could force his back from the seat, Emrick turned and braced himself, one hand on the dash and the other on the car seat. "Fool, slow dis thang down." His face was drawn. He shook his head. "Sho don' look like no race car." Bowman turned and looked down his nose at Emrick as the car gradually slowed. "It's beefed up with a large engine, Emrick. Let that be a lesson to you. You can't judge a book by lookin' at the cover. I always try to keep an edge." Nearing the city, traffic quickly increased with cars darting past in four or more lanes in each direction. While Bowman labored to avoid being run over by the racing cars, Emricks mouth dropped open and his eyes swelled. Bowman guessed it was too much for his senses to comprehend.
They left the interstate, turning on St. Bernard, and found a restaurant with outside tables near the Fairgrounds Racetrack. Bowman ordered po-boys for them both and cautioned Emrick not to move from his seat while he telephoned Flint. He was surprised to locate a pay phone in service near by. Flint had been waiting for them at his office and agreed to come and escort them to their quarters.
They were housed, not in a hotel, but a multi-storied brick apartment complex, probably long before turned into a condominium units. The exterior was not impressive, but the neighborhood was quiet and quarters were comfortable. Each of the two bedrooms had a connecting bath and was separated by a living room with an open kitchen. The exterior walls had crank windows covered with venetian blinds, which provided a view of the street from their third-floor level. The decor was plain vanilla with off-white walls and nondescript inexpensive furnishings. The inlaid tile floor had just been and waxed, and there was a faint odor of insecticide. Excellent, Bowman thought. Emrick can have himself a safe perch to watch the outside goings on in the evenings. He had no way of knowing how much he had missed the mark with that thought. Babysitting would not be a problem. Corralling Baby would. So much for good intentions.
Eleven cardboard boxes were stacked just inside the door of the living room. Flint said: "I had all this photocopied for you over the weekend. I'm no longer considered a friend by the clerical staff. Not rushin' you, but I thought you'd want it here."
"Absolutely," Bowman answered. "Soon as I get Emrick oriented, I'll go right to work."
"There's one kink I want to tell you about, but you didn't hear it from me, right?"
"Okay."
"The superintendent has assigned a daytime aide to you full time."
"Does that mean I won't be working with you?"
"No, not so far as I know. This is a relatively new employee assigned to the Criminalist Section of the Technical Services Division. I don't know what her job is, and I doubt that she does."
"She?"
"Word is that she's the superintendent's paramour, but I don't know that and don't wanna know."
"Flint, I don't need this," Bowman snorted. "She'll be bored to death here. You know how I work."
Flint responded only with a shrug and exposed his palms in apology.
"When will she be comin'?"
"Tomorrow morning, I suspect, but I really don't know."
"I'll handle it, somehow," Bowman said with resignation.
"Bowman, be careful
with this one. I've never met her, but I've seen her. Nothin' flashy, but she's a looker. I'm told that Landry is very touchy and protective of her."
"I hear what you're sayin', Bill Ed, not with a ten foot pole."
"No, that's NOT what I'm sayin'. I've seen you work. I know business is business with you. What I'm sayin' is you don't want to offend her in any way. You know as well as I do that you don't have to be guilty of anything to be accused."
"Thanks a lot, ole buddy, ole pal."
"Hey, I tried to stop it, but the captain let me know my comments weren't welcome. His either."
"I understand that. Thanks for the warning."
After Flint left, Bowman and Emrick took off on foot to explore the neighborhood, going first to the business area near the racetrack where they had eaten lunch, walking a mile on one side of the street, then crossing over and covering the opposite side of the boulevard.
Bowman cautioned Emrick that though everything looked peaceful and pleasant, all that could change in an instant. The only way to avoid trouble would be to walk away or, if necessary, to run away from it. Under no circumstances was Emrick to fight or argue with anyone. After Bowman said that he smiled inwardly, with the thought that Emrick had practiced instinctive crisis prevention all his life with his infectious smile.
Bowman wrote down the telephone number of the apartment on a sheet of a note pad and wrapped it around a quarter. He instructed Emrick to put the items in his pocket and not to spend it, no matter what. He pointed to the pay-phone he had used earlier. If he even thought there might be a problem, Emrick was to call him and he would come running, faster than a starvin' coyote movin' in on a one legged chicken. In response Emrick smiled broadly and chuckled.
They walked past the apartment complex and continued on to City Park. By the time they reached the golf course area, Bowman was worn to a frazzle. Emrick showed no sign of physical distress. They found a park bench and Bowman took a city map from his pocket, carefully showing Emrick where they were, the route they had taken, and where the body of the Porter boy had been found. "Now do you think you can find your way back to the apartment from any of the places we've been?" Bowman asked staring into the eyes of his friend. Emrick tilted his head back and looked out the side of his eye, conveying the answer of "certainly". Bowman had Emrick lead the way back to the apartment, then to the place where they had eaten lunch. After another sandwich, Bowman decided to return to the apartment. Emrick elected to stay out a little longer. He assured Bowman that he knew the way back to the apartment. Bowman gave him ten five dollar bills to carry in his front pocket. To Bowman, Emrick's expression suggested that this was the most exciting moment of his life. He was hesitant about leaving Emrick and wondered where the idea of a one legged chicken had come from. Then he realized that pretty well sized up Emrick's chances if some human coyote targeted him on these streets. He bit his lip, nodded at Emrick and said, "Don't stay out very long tonight. Let's just take things in small bites until you get to know some folks in the neighborhood." When Emrick nodded, Bowman reluctantly walked away. Bowman sat on the couch in the apartment in his jeans and a blue work shirt, his shoes off, using the coffee table as a hassock. His attention fell on a title written on the side of one of the cardboard boxes with a yellow felt tip pen: MISC. SCREWBALLS. He decided it was a good enough place to start and about time to begin.
Immersed in the files, he was startled by an interrupting knock at the door. Probably Emrick, he thought. He checked his watch, surprised to find that it was already ten thirty. It'd better be him, he thought. It wasn't.
Of the two men, Bowman was instantly impressed with the black man dressed in a obviously expensive and well tailored dark brown suit. He was slim and slightly over six feet tall, his complexion was light and powdery. His full head of hair was only slightly course in texture. Education and polish reflected in his speech and demeanor. His faint smile conveyed a reserved openness and acceptance. He offered his hand to Bowman with a smile. "Hello, are you Mr. Bowman?"
Bowman accepted his hand and returned his smile. "Yes, I am."
"My name is Robert Kingwood. I am the mayor of the city and this is police superintendent Edgar Landry. We've been to the seminar with the other consultants and thought we would drop by to introduce ourselves to you as well.”
"I'm honored and very pleased that you did. Won't you come in and make yourselves comfortable?"
He turned his attention to the other man who was a couple of inches shorter and considerably heavier than the mayor. He was not really overweight, but his waistline was starting to go and his chin to sag, slightly. He had dark features, black hair and brown eyes considered typical of south Louisiana people, but which is not necessarily so. Attorney was written all over him, beginning with the navy blue suit, white shirt, maroon and white striped tie and tasseled moccasin shoes. The volume of his voice was two notches above what was necessary. If those had not been clues enough, his facial gestures were automatic, instantly changing and had no connection with the expression of his eyes. Bowman was surprised when the man would not maintain eye contact with him. He decided it must be a resentment for being required to spend time in social formalities.
"Please, have a seat, gentlemen. I'm sorry I can't offer you anything to drink. I didn't stop to shop."
"My secretary arranged for your quarters, Mr. Bowman, and I must tell you she had a problem locating them. There just wasn't too much to select from out this way."
"Mr. Mayor, please thank her for me and tell her I'm pleased in every way. It's quite comfortable. The location is perfect for my needs and the kitchen is a bonus I didn't expect. That will save me a lot of time."
"Knowing Joni, I expect you will find soft drinks in the refrigerator and liquor of some kind. She's very efficient. I really don't care for anything though."
"How about you, Mr. Landry?" Bowman offered.
"No, nothing to drink, but I would like to know why you would take our money and then refuse to be present at our meeting."
"What money are you talking about, Mr. Landry?"
"Why, the ten thousand dollar consultant fee, of course."
"I'm sorry you didn't understand. I get no fee unless I solve the case, in which case I get considerably more. With so few clues available, I very much doubt there'll be a fee in this instance. I was available and thought I could perhaps be of some ancillary service."
"Then I take it you think this idea of bringing in consultants was ill-advised."
"No sir, quite the contrary. I think it was a brilliant stroke for several reasons. It should buy some time and ease the pressures. It will provide a very useful background on a growing problem area and, if it's handled constructively, it should be a considerable help with morale."
Robert looked at him quizzically. "I don't understand, Mr. Bowman. Are you saying that we have a morale problem?"
"Anytime a police agency has a situation of intense pressure to solve a case and officers run around chasin' their tails for several weeks and can see little progress, there will, of course, be morale problems. It would be my guess that information communicated at the meeting tonight was bizarre, shocking, outrageous and mind blowing - particularly as applicable as it would be to New Orleans, where there has to be every kind of occult practice known to mankind, every sort of extremist group and every conceivable shading of religious practices and rituals. It would seem to me that when they go from workin' their butts off and gettin' nothin' to show for it, to findin' intelligence information under every rock they turn over, there would have to be a positive result. It's a very exhilarating experience when you finally sense movement. Everywhere they turn they will develop intelligence on witches, Satanists, skinheads, voodoo cults. No one can doubt all these groups are operatin' here. They must be here, all around us."
"Surely, your joking, Mr. Bowman," Robert responded.
"No, not at all. They're here. Be prepared to be shocked. I promise you they're here."
"What nonsense!" Landr
y exclaimed. "You sound as kookie as those space cadets at the meeting tonight. Do you really think the NOPD is so ineffective that we wouldn't know about such groups, if they existed?"
"I would be very much surprised if they don't already know of the groups existence. The problem is not the effectiveness of the NOPD. It's simply not normally the role of police officers to monitor religious practices. The courts wouldn't allow it if they wanted to. When it comes to occult religious practices, there can be a very fine line between investigating the criminal behavior and the bizarre ritualism. I suspect you two are goin' to become very familiar with charges of violation of First Amendment rights. Your problem is going to be encouraging the officers' zeal while avoidin' a rash of lawsuits. It's a very intriguing problem."
Considerably more subdued, Landry asked: "So is that why you declined to appear? You didn't want to be identified with the problem?"
"No, that's not it at all. I'm not particularly comfortable with public speakin', but that's not it either. What could I have told veteran detectives about investigatin' single offender cases that they don't already know? I had absolutely no contribution to make. If I confine myself to what I do best, there's always a chance of some success. To do that I have to maintain concentration. Had I gone tonight, I would have been intrigued and stimulated and, most likely, side tracked. It was in no one's best interest for me to be there."
Landry rose and went to the refrigerator and then to the cabinets. Without comment, he removed a bottle of scotch and prepared himself a drink.
Robert turned and said: "Mr. Bowman, you used the word stimulating. I must say that what you have said to us is certainly that. I'm glad we stopped by. I confess that I probably didn't take the speakers tonight seriously enough. I noticed that they were video taping the session. I'll get a copy of the tape and listen more carefully."
"Do you think you could get me a copy of that tape?"
"Sure, when do you want it?"
"Just as quickly as I can get it."