Give Me Fever

by Karen Anders

Tally wasn’t about to admit defeat. She would have to convince this woman that Dampier deserved a place.

  “I have his journal and collected a large number of his possessions.”

  “A journal is promising and would document his contributions, but it would be so much better if we had something more. Corroboration would be ideal. Lafitte’s contribution is not only word of mouth or through his journal. There is much to prove he played a vital role in the defense of the city.”

  “No, not anything concrete. But I feel that he should be honored as one of the men who helped save New Orleans.”

  “Keep looking and I’ll see about space in the museum. When could I come by to view the artifacts?”

  “I’ve got a little bit more work to do. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I’m ready.”

  “It’s all very exciting, isn’t it? Dampier is well known as a pirate. Why, he built the ‘hot’ court near the French Quarter.”

  “I live there.”

  “How lovely. We don’t take these matters lightly. Please bring me the journal when you can and keep trying to find corroboration. Of course, for a man who lived in the eighteenth century, we would be very interested to see what artifacts you have that could serve as an exhibition.”

  Tally realized that she wasn’t going to get any farther with this woman and fumed as she stood to shake her hand. “I’ll get you your proof, Miss Sutton. You can be sure. I’ll be in touch.”

  CHRISTIEN WENT TO HIS OFFICE and started writing up a report each for two clients. Trying to find Mark Addison, tailing his robbery suspect and spending time with Tally had put him behind.

  After working for a couple hours, he was interrupted as Tally slammed into his office.

  She sat down in his chair with an irritated sigh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I went to the museum today to talk about introducing Gabriel.”

  “You say his name like you know him.”

  Tally stared at him, startled by his statement. “What?”

  “It’s as if he’s a friend of yours, not some two-hundred-year-old ghost.”

  She met his direct gaze, an unreadable look in her eyes. “I guess I feel, after all this time spent with his artifacts, that I do know him.”

  “What happened at the museum?”

  “The curator told me that although it’s been rumored that Gabriel had played a large role in the protection of New Orleans, there was no concrete evidence that the story was true.”

  “So where does that leave you?”

  “The curator said she would be happy to look at what I had and she could possibly set up a display for him, but they couldn’t help me with his contribution to history. He would just be a figure that once lived in New Orleans.”

  “That’s something, isn’t it, Tally?”

  “No,” she said, erupting from her chair. “It isn’t. He was an important contributor and I want him to receive the accolades he deserves.”

  “Then you’ll have to find something concrete to prove that he played a hand in the protection of New Orleans.”

  She smiled and it touched him profoundly. “You’re right. Getting angry and railing about this isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

  His cell phone rang and Christien flipped it open when he recognized Jim’s number.

  “What’s up?” Christien said into the phone’s receiver.

  “Chris, I need your help. I’ve got a hot case I’m working on right now, but I don’t want to stop keeping tabs on the suspect.”

  “Jim, I’m busy right now.”

  “Look, Christien. He’s jumpy and I’m worried he’s going to break today. The signs say so, but I’ve got to follow this lead before it gets cold. I’m asking for an hour of your time.”

  “Jim…”

  “He could kill another woman today. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  “I’m not on the force anymore.” But the guilt constricted his chest. Maybe he could do this one last thing. Maybe he could get some form of justice for the slain victims and their family members.

  “If you weren’t so stubborn…Christien, just an hour, buddy.”

  “An hour. Where do you want to meet?”

  Jim gave him the location and Christien snapped his phone shut.

  “Who was that?”

  “Jim Carter.”

  “Is this about that suspect you’ve been following?”

  “Yes. Jim needs about an hour.”

  “Could you give me a lift back to the court? This day isn’t turning out like I planned. It seems that nothing is turning out like I planned.”

  “You know what they say about best-laid plans, Tally. Besides, just because she turned you down doesn’t mean you can’t do anything about it.”

  Once in the car, Tally asked, “So this guy is pretty important to you?”

  “He was. I’ve stopped pretending that I’m still on the force. I left and I should start paying attention to my business.” Those words and the meaning behind them left a hollow pit in his stomach.

  “Just because you left the force, doesn’t mean you can’t go back any time you want.”

  Christien exhaled heavily. “The system sucks.”

  Her expression grim, her eyes dark from emotion, she said, “But it’s what you’ve got to work with. Isn’t that better than not doing what you love?”

  Christien gripped the wheel, her words making too much sense to him. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “I am being realistic. There’s usually no happiness in that.”

  Before she left the car, she touched his arm. “Christien, this may not be any of my business, but I think you can’t forgive yourself for letting your mother down. Every time you lose a case, it only makes it worse. Maybe what you really need to do is let yourself off the hook. Accept that there will be some you win and some you lose.”

  He clenched his teeth against the swell of emotion; the guilt pressed down on him. “I don’t like to lose.”

  He could feel her watching him, judging his response, waiting for more.

  He took her hand off his arm and brought her across the seat with a quick tug. His mouth met hers briefly before he let her go.

  “Are you willing to give up the chance to win because you do lose once in a while?”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  She nodded and got out of the car. Christien drove over to the suspect’s place of business and traded off with Jim, receiving a wave from him as he drove away.

  Minutes later, the suspect came out of the garage and got into his car. Christien started his Jeep and gave it a few minutes before he pulled away from the curb. As he drove, Tally’s words floated through Christien’s head. Keeping his eye on the blue car, Christien noticed when they entered the Garden District and anticipation roiled inside him when the suspect parked on a side street, one block away from the cased victim’s house.

  The suspect sat in his car for a few minutes, edgily looking around. Christien parked far enough away to belay any of the suspect’s suspicions, but close enough that he could keep the guy in view. Christien heard a knock on his window just as the suspect opened his car door. Opening the window, he smiled at an old man.

  “You lost, mister?”

  “No, but thanks.”

  The old man looked skeptical, but left the vehicle. The suspect was already on foot, disappearing down the street.

  Christien reached for his glove box and took out his gun. He almost reached for a radio to call for backup, but remembered that he wasn’t on the force anymore. He was on his own.

  He slipped out of the Jeep. The old man continued to water his lawn and darted glances Christien’s way. Tucking the gun into the small of his back, he took off after the suspect. Deliberately staying far enough away so as not to spook the suspect, Christien trailed him. If he made him, Christien might lose his chance to catch this guy red-handed.

  The suspect got away from
him momentarily, so that Christien had to run to catch up. Then the guy disappeared into some undergrowth. Christien skirted the growth and climbed a fence. Dropping down into a backyard, he came face to teeth with a huge black Doberman.

  The dog growled. Christien turned and made for the fence. But just as he was going over, the dog got a hold of his leg and bit down hard, breaking the skin. He lashed out and the dog let go. Christien jumped over the fence and landed on the ground hard.

  When he rolled, he winced as he put pressure on his leg, but he ignored the pain and skirted the fence, judging it was safe to go the same way as the suspect. When Christien reached the white clapboard house, he saw a broken window.

  Without hesitation, he climbed through. Bringing his gun up in a two-handed grip, he moved silently through the bedroom until he reached the living room.

  “Tell me where the money is and I’ll let you live.”

  He had a woman by the hair and was pointing a gun at her face. Silently, Christien moved into the room. The woman saw him and her eyes widened. The attacker whirled.

  “Detective Castille. What a nice surprise. Drop the gun or I’ll blow her head off.”

  Christien really had no choice. He started to lower the gun, then the old woman balled up her fist and hit the suspect right in the groin as hard as she could.

  The suspect howled and swore, but immediately collapsed, letting go of her hair. Christien motioned her over to him.

  The woman didn’t hesitate. She ran over. “Thank you so much,” she said.

  “Call the police. Quickly!” Christien ordered.

  The suspect, breathing hard, looked up at him.

  “Brought down by an old woman. Now that’s poetic justice,” Christien said.

  “So, what do you get me for now, huh? You couldn’t get me for those murders. In fact, you’ll never get me for them.”

  Just like he would never get justice for his mother. The gun in Christien’s hand trembled. All he had to do was pull the trigger and this man would never put another life in jeopardy.

  “What are you going to do? Shoot me? You don’t have the stones, Castille.”

  Christien’s fingers tightened, all the guilt and frustration of twenty years manifesting itself in this one moment. He took in a breath and held it. Then he heard Tally’s voice. Do you really want to give up winning because you lose every once in a while? How could he look into her eyes if he pulled the trigger? How could he look into his own?

  He relaxed his hand on the gun, but kept it trained on the suspect, only relinquishing his vigilance once he was cuffed and taken away.

  AT THE PRECINCT, Christien finished writing up his account of the incident. As he put the pen down, his captain approached the desk. In his hand, he had both Christien’s badge and his department-issued gun.

  “When are you going to take these back, Castille?”

  “How about now, Captain?”

  “Yeah, now’s good.”

  “The department let you hold on to these for a year?”

  “Yeah, since I put in that you had taken a leave of absence. Welcome back, Castille.”

  After the captain was gone, Jim slapped Christien on the back. “You did it, man. We got that guy dead to rights.”

  Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Christien smiled broadly. “Yeah, we did.”

  With those words, he was finally able to let the past rest, let his mother rest and forgive a six-year-old boy who had failed to get the justice his mother so richly deserved. He would do what he could and work within the system. He’d learned the hard way that it did mean something.

  His calf throbbed. One of the paramedics who had arrived on the scene on the heels of the police had bandaged him up and given him a tetanus shot.

  When his cell phone rang, Christien answered for the last time. “Castille Private Investigations.”

  “Mr. Castille, this is Bobby Green. I’m the drummer for Calendar Boys.”

  “Right, we met last night.”

  “I got your number off the card you gave to our lead singer. I don’t know where Mark is, but I can tell you he has a girlfriend. Her name is Marie Lamarouex.”

  “Do you have a number for her or know where she lives?”

  “No. That’s all I know.”

  “Thanks for the information.”

  “Hey, I don’t know Mark that well, and he’s one hell of a musician and songwriter, but he doesn’t know jack about how to treat his sister. I have one, too. I wouldn’t want to see the worry on my sister’s face that was on his sister’s last night. Not cool, man.”

  Christien turned to the computer and accessed the information he needed on Marie Lamarouex.

  He tried her number, but there was no answer. He left a message for her to call him back. Deciding to take a ride over to her apartment, he rose.

  He’d finish up this job for Tally, then he was going to tell her how much he loved her, that in his darkest hour, she’d been the one who’d shone through to save him from committing an act that would have haunted him for the rest of his life.

  A life he wanted to share with Tally.

  12

  DISCOURAGED, HOT AND SWEATY, Tally sat down on a box and wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Are you sure there isn’t anything here that proves you helped Lafitte?”

  She addressed Captain Dampier who, by the way, didn’t look hot and sweaty. He looked transparent as usual.

  “No, I don’t think so. I detailed some of the planned strategy in the journal.”

  Tally shook her head. “I’ve already read that over. It’s not enough. She wants something concrete, not an account from a man who once had a reputation as a notorious pirate.”

  “I am not a pirate.”

  “Sorry. I’m just repeating what she said.”

  “Narrow-minded individuals. Even two hundred years later, I cannot get my due.”

  “You’ll get it. I promise you that I’ll keep looking.”

  Tally’s cell phone rang. Her heart stilled in her chest and she lunged for the ringing phone.

  “Hello, Mark?”

  “No, I’m sorry. This is Marie. Marie Lamarouex. I’m Mark’s girlfriend.”

  “Do you know where Mark is?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, he’s at his apartment right now. He just got back.”

  Tally was already rushing down the attic stairs. “Thank you very much.”

  “Mr. Castille was here and he told me what you’ve gone through. That was really irresponsible of Mark. I wish I’d known sooner.”

  “Thanks for phoning,” Tally said and ended the call in her haste to get to her brother. Jumping in her car, she sped over to his apartment, smiling with relief. She took the stairs two at a time until she reached his door. She knocked.

  When her brother pulled open the door, all the frustration and anger seemed to well up in her and detonate into a ball of fury.

  “Where have you been?”

  His mouth thinned into a straight, mutinous line. “I had to do something. Something important.”

  Releasing her pent-up breath in a rush, a lump formed in her throat. “And you couldn’t have called me?”

  He stared at her, swallowed and looked away. “I was mad at you. I came over to your place to tell you good news and you start in. You always start in.”

  Looking at his handsome face, thinking about all that she had been through with him, the emotion simmered inside her, the lump in her throat thickening. “I’m not having this argument with you right now, Mark. Do you have any idea what you’ve put Bree and me through?” Covering her face with her hand, she started to cry, the emotion too intense to hold in. A wave of relief swept through her that her brother was all right and he had come back. She was so happy that he had come back.

  His voice full of regret, he awkwardly hugged her. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry, okay?”

  Tally hugged him back. “Call her as soon as I leave so that she knows you’re fine and please don�
�t do this again.”

  “I promise I won’t. Marie told me I was being selfish and juvenile and she was totally right.”

  “She sounds nice. I hope I get to meet her soon.” Now that she was assured he was okay and she was sure he wouldn’t pull such a stupid stunt again, her mind shifted. “Mark, you took something from the house the day you left. You ripped a piece of paper out of an old journal.”

  “A piece of paper?”

  Tally felt her insides turn to ice. “Yes, from an old journal I left on the counter.”

  “Yeah, that was the oddest thing. I was looking for paper and then I heard a riffling of pages and there was this blank one.”

  “Mark, do you have it?” She clutched at his arm.

  “Somewhere, I’m sure, but I can’t quite remember.”

  She collapsed against the door frame. “Please, Mark, you’ve got to find it for me. It’s vital.”

  “What is it?” Mark asked.

  Tally was dimly aware that she was digging her fingernails into her palm. “It’s Captain Dampier’s treasure map.”

  Mark started to smile, but then must have seen the irrefutable panic in her eyes. “No kidding?”

  “I’ve actually talked to his ghost.”

  “Uncle Guidry said there was a ghost, and you’ve talked to him? While sober?”

  “Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, so I could get the map back. There’s really a treasure and I want to use the money to buy the Blue Note. I even hired a private detective.”

  “I know.” Mark opened the door and Tally’s heart sank as she saw Christien standing in her brother’s living room. His eyes were very cold.

  “I used the map to take down directions and I know I still have the scrap of paper somewhere.”

  “Directions?” she asked. “To where?” Tally’s eyes never left Christien.

  “I wanted to wait until you and Bree were together, but, since you’ve ruined everything anyway, I might as well tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “I’m going to the Berklee College of Music in Boston. That’s where I was, auditioning.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve saved everything I’ve made for the last eighteen months.”