In the middle of the night, his hand brushed my hair away from my ear and I turned toward him, feeling his body hard and warm against mine. Whispering that he had to leave, he kissed my cheek and told me to go back to sleep. And I did. I floated on my dreams, and felt safe beneath the thin sheet that rustled against my skin from the breeze of the rain and the fan above.
Later on, I felt my hair once more gently lifted off my neck, and I smiled to myself in the secret knowledge that he had returned to make love to me again. As I lay on my side, the sheet slithered off my body and I remained still in the silent anticipation of his touch against my skin. In my semiconscious state, the realization that I hadn’t given him a key rippled across my mind, but I wasn’t worried about such things. Not with Santou. His hand played along my leg and up past my hip, to nestle in the hollow of my waist before moving on to cup my breast. It lingered there, exploring every inch before continuing on with its journey. I gave myself over to the delicious pleasure of his finger lightly gliding along the skin of my throat, as his warm breath brushed tenderly against my ear. His whisper soothed my body like a loving caress, and the gentle sound of the words could have been a baby’s lullaby until their full impact registered like a bullet in my brain, exploding in a firestorm of fear.
“Wake up. I want to watch you die.”
My heart pounded out of control as a sharp nick pierced the skin of my neck, burning as the pain raced through me. Confused as to what was happening, I rolled hard to the left and grabbed my pillow, holding it in front of me with all the conviction of an invincible shield. Struggling to sit up, I reached wildly with my left hand to grab onto the baseball bat that I kept by my bed. But before I could grasp it, a hand grabbed the top of my hair, jerking my head back hard. As my jaw snapped shut my teeth bit into my tongue, and a stinging slash ripped through my neck once again.
Pulling loose, I clutched the wooden handle of the bat and screamed, swinging as hard as I could. I felt the wood make contact, crashing into flesh and bone with a thud, and I struck again as the bite of a blade sliced into my flesh. Still screaming, I heard a pounding outside my door as Terri’s voice shrieked above the din. Words hissed out as I continued to flail at the air with the bat.
“Take this as a warning.”
But I couldn’t be sure if that was exactly what was said, in my terror and confusion.
Then I heard the scuffle of steps on my balcony, as whoever had been in my room climbed over the rail. Terri’s voice was immediately beside me, but I couldn’t stop the cry which tore out of my throat, ringing in my ears to mix with the thunder that exploded in my brain. Until I realized that I hadn’t made any sound at all. Terri held me as I wondered if I was losing my mind, if it had been just one more nightmare played to the hilt in the darkness of my room.
My fingers trembled as I reached past him and turned on the lamp. Light flooded my room, illuminating a pool of red that formed a ghoulish design of blood splattered with goose feathers. My pillow had been slashed into ribbons.
Pushing away from Terri, I made my way over to the mirror on shaky legs. Three long gashes encircled my throat like a jagged choker of blood red rubies. As the blood flowed freely down my neck onto my breasts, Valerie’s reflection appeared in the mirror, tattooed in a lacework of slashes. And I remembered Kitty, the stripper I’d recently met, and her own angry scars. I had little doubt as to who my attacker had been, or that this was the prelude to a terror not yet over. The slashes sizzled on my neck, branding me as one more victim permanently marked with fear. It made me all the more aware that I was no stronger or braver or safer than either Valerie or Kitty had been. And I knew that my nightmares had now become my reality.
Sixteen
What was left of the night was spent with lights blazing bright to fight off the demons that had suddenly become all too real. My .357 explored every closet, every corner, in search of something to take aim at so that I would stop feeling so helpless and out of control. Terri helped to patch me up as best he could, staining most of a towel before the bleeding subsided. Refusing his pleas that I go to a hospital, I allowed him to cover the gashes on my neck with rolls of gauze. Pouring me a shot of straight bourbon, he poured another as I gulped down the first.
Then he rocked me as I sat in bed, the gun cradled in my lap like a sleepless child. Refusing either to call the police or to try and sleep, I watched one moth after another fly into the overhead light, where they departed as black ashes in a crisp sizzle of smoke, falling in a growing funeral pyre around me.
I resisted the temptation to phone Santou. At first I told myself it was because I was too shaken up to be coherent. But it was more than that. I was angry that he had left me alone in the dead of night. He’d walked out, as if that was all the evening had been worth. I tried to stop myself from thinking this might not have happened if he had been there. But it didn’t work. Along with being afraid and angry, I was hurt. Finally, I caved in and picked up the phone to call Santou, only to realize that he’d never even told me where he lived. Instead, I called the precinct, letting the phone ring until I could no longer stand the unanswered buzz in my ear.
As I hung up, a new thought entered my mind that put my other emotions to rest. I began to wonder if this had all been a setup that Jake might have been part of. It was obvious he’d kept information from me, and tonight had continued to dodge my questions concerning Williams and Kroll. He’d even asked that I blindly trust him for one more week, and I had agreed. Now I began to question that decision.
Terri continued to hold me until I finally began to nod off, my body succumbing to the effects of bourbon and too much adrenaline. By 5:00 a.m., I no longer wanted to sleep at all, my nightmares rivaling my reality. I assured Terri that I would be all right, and he waited outside my door until he heard me turn the lock behind him.
Alone with my thoughts, I made a pot of coffee and dragged a chair out on the balcony, keeping guard until dawn crept onto the horizon and the Quarter came to life with the clatter and hum of its early-morning residents. The last visible signs of rain were already disappearing as the rising sun sucked up the wet wisps of steam like a red-hot vacuum. Taking a cold shower, I left the curtain open, afraid someone might sneak up on me. Scenes from Psycho played vividly on childhood nightmares that no longer seemed so childish. Standing under the stream of icy cold needles, I tried to focus my mind on what to do next. I was running out of places to turn in this labyrinth of events, in which I now stood dead center. Turning back to my New York roots, I decided to pay Vinnie Bertucci a visit.
By the time I finally got myself together and checked back in with Terri, most of the morning had already slid by. I was heading out the door as the phone began to ring. I didn’t bother to stop, unable to think of anyone I really wanted to talk to right now—including Santou. The police wouldn’t help me, any more than they had Valerie. Time was running out before the next attempt on my life became more than just a warning. Whatever I had stumbled onto, the pieces were all there. I just had to discover how to put them together.
I walked out to a day that was going on just as the day before had, and the day before that, driving home the message that it would make little difference in the grand scheme of things whether or not I was around to join in with the rest of civilization tomorrow.
The trolley seemed to clang louder as I drove to the Garden District. The grass was greener, and the black iron fences standing guard in front of each shuttered Victorian house took on the presence of sentinels erected to keep danger away. Walking quickly up to the lemon meringue house that today appeared larger, I rang the bell and was greeted by the massive form of Vinnie Bertucci. His pompadour stood higher and his chest was broader than I had remembered. He filled the doorway, dressed in a royal blue knit top and baby blue polyester pants, and I noticed for the first time that he was wearing black alligator loafers without socks. The diamond pinky ring on his finger beamed a flare of light into my eyes.
Vinnie stared at me as he ru
bbed one side of his jaw and then the other, checking himself for any unnoticed gashes on his own skin.
“Whatcha do, New Yawk? Cut yourself shaving this morning?”
Vinnie giggled, pleased with his joke as he stood aside to let me in.
“Ya got good timing. I got sausage and peppers simmering that’ll make ya cry, it’s so good. We’ll eat and call it brunch.”
I sat in the kitchen and wondered about the best way to broach the subject as Vinnie stirred his homemade sauce.
“I wanted to thank you for sneaking me that piece of meat the other day. I’m having it analyzed. We should know the results pretty soon.”
“Yeah, yeah. No problem. I hated the mutt myself, but I’d never kill the thing, ya know what I mean?” Vinnie lifted the wooden spoon out of the pan and brought it delicately to his lips. “Perfecto! It’s chow time.”
I wondered if Dolores was home, but seeing her was more than I wanted to deal with this morning. My hunch was that she’d probably gone on one long drinking spree after being sprung from jail. Vinnie filled me in without my having to ask.
“The old broad’s upstairs sleeping it off. She spent all last night yammering away about her dead pooch and banging on the floor for more booze. For Christsakes, it was like being at a Sicilian wake. She’s got me running up and down the damn steps all the time, like I got nothing better ta do around here. She can belt ’em faster than I can pour ’em. But youse ain’t here ta talk about that stuff.”
I watched as he threw handfuls of fresh pasta into the boiling water, wondering how he’d known I was here about anything other than Dolores Williams.
“So, ya gonna tell me whatcha here for, or did ya just stop by cause ya missed my home cooking?”
I decided to drop a few small bombs and see if Vinnie picked up the bait.
“I’ve been doing some research lately on business acquisitions in the New Orleans area, and I keep bumping into the name Global Corporation. Ever hear of them?”
Vinnie poured the pasta into a large ceramic dish decorated with bright red crawfish, their claws locked together in a jig. “So, whadda ya, changing ya line of work now, New Yawk? I thought youse was busy being like a dogcatcher or something.”
I was silent for a moment as Vinnie tasted the sauce, adding a touch of fresh pepper. “I think Global Corporation might be involved in some illegal wildlife dealings. The president of the company was brought up on charges a few years ago for trading in illicit gator skins.”
Vinnie popped a sweet sausage into his mouth, chewing on it slowly. “Illicit, huh? I guess that means they was being bad boys. Didn’t play by your rules. See, ta me that sounds like they was just doing a little free enterprise, which is what this country of ours is all about. Ya follow me? Anyways, this Global thing sounds like kind of a common name ta me, but then I got no head for business. Though I am thinking of opening a decent place for Italian eats in this town. Whadda ya say? I’ll give youse a job. Maybe we’ll even name a dish after the mutt.”
I wondered what Vinnie had done wrong back in New York to land him in the position of playing number one houseboy to Hillard Williams.
“You know what I found out about Global Corporation, Vinnie? The company is based in New York, but it has an interest in lots of businesses in Louisiana—from restaurants to fish-packing houses to hookers. They even deal in diamonds. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Ya been sniffing around maybe too much, New Yawk. Better watch that your nose don’t get bit off.”
Grabbing the bowl of pasta, he kicked the kitchen door open with his foot and sat down at the table, where he dished a large portion of spaghetti onto my plate.
“I have reason to believe that Valerie Vaughn’s death and Global Corporation might be tied in together somehow. She might have found out something she shouldn’t have. It could be that she learned of some illegal deals going on. Maybe she even tried to blackmail someone in the company.”
“Maybe ya need ta get out more. Make some friends, go out on a date, get yourself laid. Sounds ta me like youse are spending too much time by yourself in those swamps, coming up with wacko conspiracy stuff.”
“You know, Vinnie, there was another girl on Bourbon who ended up tattooed just like Valerie Vaughn. Only she didn’t die. And she remembers that the guy who cut her had a fondness for razors. Some freak with white hair and eyes like a couple of ice cubes. Sound like anyone familiar to you?”
Vinnie pulled the cork out of a bottle of Chianti and poured two glasses. “I don’t know any guy with ice cubes for eyes. As for the hooker, those kind always meet with a bad end. What can ya expect?”
I took a sip of the wine, hoping it would help numb the pain that had started to throb in my neck. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to get much information out of Little Italy. Like all good soldiers, he wasn’t about to drop his guard. Slamming the bottle of Chianti down on the table with a thud, Vinnie caught me by surprise so that I jumped. He stared at me for a moment, then leaned in, both elbows resting on the table like giant rib roasts.
“Listen, New Yawk, I like ya, which is why I’m telling ya not to go pushing your nose in where it don’t belong, if ya know what I mean. This is New Orleans, and they don’t play so nice. I’d hate ta see something bad happen ta ya, so ya get a warning, ya listen ta it. Play nice with the dead animals, and don’t go poking around too much. Ya don’t wanna get the wrong people pissed off.”
I touched the gauze along my throat. “I’ve already had a warning, Vinnie. It’s gone beyond that now.”
Pulling out a book of matches, Vinnie lit the drip candle in a Chianti bottle that sat in the middle of the table. “Then if I was youse, I’d think about taking a quick trip outta town.”
He threw the matchbook down in front of me, and the red letters of Pasta Nostra jumped out like a neon sign. It was time for me to let Hickok in on the situation already in motion. I just hoped he wouldn’t be angry enough to sack me for it.
Having decided to make my confession to Hickok, I figured that now was as good a time as any to check in with Dr. Sam. I wanted the results on both Fifi and the gator, and if he hadn’t already done the autopsies and test, I was determined to hang over his shoulder until he did. Once Hickok found out about my extracurricular activities, there was no question I’d be sent back out on swamp detail to rot among the cattails and the duck poachers for good.
I started driving back down St. Charles when I spotted a phone booth and pulled over on impulse. I got out and found myself dialing Santou.
“Yeah. Santou here.”
My heart pounded wildly as I heard his voice, and for a moment, I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
“Anybody there? Otherwise, I’m hanging up.”
I knew I had to tell him what had happened last night after he’d left—if only to try and gauge his reaction.
“It’s Rachel.”
“How ya doing, chère? Sleep well I hope?”
My mind went blank, making it difficult for me to think of the right words to say.
“Something happened after you left last night, Jake.”
He chuckled as though he’d been expecting just such a reaction. “Yeah. Same thing happened to me, darlin’. I decided I want a lot more nights like that.”
My skin felt hot and the receiver was slippery in the palm of my hand, as a wave of anger and fear swept over me, along with the searing memory of what had taken place.
“Somebody broke into my apartment after you left. I was attacked.” A split second of silence felt like an eternity before I heard his voice again.
“What happened, Rachel? Are you all right?”
I touched my throat, and fear overtook any anger I felt as my stomach contracted in a tight knot. “I got a bit cut up, but Terri came in and scared him off before anything worse could happen. It was Gunter, Jake.”
“Did you see him?”
“I didn’t have to. I know it was him.” I was met with another pause before Jake spok
e again.
“How do you know?”
I wanted to shriek in frustration. Instead, I took a deep breath before answering. “I just know. The marks look like slashes done with a razor. The same as I saw on Valerie Vaughn and the other stripper I told you about.”
“But you didn’t see him?”
“I’m telling you, it’s Gunter! What else do you need to know before you finally do something about him?”
Santou’s voice resonated in a placating tone over the line.
“You can’t arrest a man based on assumption, Rachel. You know that. Have you been to the hospital yet?”
“No.”
“Well, get yourself on over there and then go home. I’ll take care of this. You just leave it to me.”
I hung up without bothering to respond. I’d already seen how well Santou had protected Valerie. I didn’t intend to be the next victim on anyone’s list.
I didn’t bother to call and make an appointment with Sam. Instead I just swung by his office. Dr. Sam stepped out of his examining room with an unkempt Yorkie tucked under each arm, his own wild bush of salt-and-pepper hair as badly in need of a trim as theirs were. Handing the dogs back to their owner, he locked the office door behind them.
“Hey, Rachel! I see you got the message I left this morning.”
In my rush to discover why someone had developed a yen to cut my throat, I hadn’t thought to check my answering machine. “Actually, I didn’t. I stopped by to check on what you’ve found out so far.”
Gator Aide (Rachel Porter Mysteries) Page 25