by A. C. Mason
Caleb muttered an obscenity. “He’s two damn steps ahead of us.”
“Looks like it,” Marino said. “So tell me how your visit with the sister went.”
Caleb related in detail about the meeting with Jamie Chatelaine, the subsequent arrival of the two men, and his take on them.
Recounting the story caused his thoughts to drift to Jamie Chatelaine. Everything about her was stunning. Long blonde hair, green cat eyes, angelic face—he sure would like to get to know her better. She was too good for the likes of Michael Phillips.
So why did he act so impersonal and all official? He was usually a lot friendlier and more compassionate to other victims’ families. He cringed at his less than tactful reference to her sister as ‘the body.’
He really knew the reason, but had gone overboard with his method. Getting involved with a woman who could be implicated in a murder would be detrimental to the case and might get him fired. Not to mention she appeared to be in a relationship with another possible suspect.
He could hardly believe she was in any way party to those murders, but one never knew. The last woman he met with the face of an angel turned out to be a she-devil...his ex-wife.
He came back to the present and caught the last two words Marino said.
“…like Blanchard.”
“What?”
Marino slid him a curious look. “I said, from what you told me about your meeting, I like the fiancé Blanchard for Joanna Chatelaine’s murder. The Blanchards think they can do anything they want and get away with it.”
“You’re still hoping this is a copy-cat killing. Well, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? To me, Blanchard sounded a little too confrontational. He sat at home alone all night? If she had been my fiancée, you wouldn’t have found me sitting at home. I’d be out beating the bushes for her. ”
“I agree I did find his non-alibi suspicious, but there are too many connections to this murder and the other two. Our killer is targeting prostitutes. It’s typical serial killer.” He shrugged. “Not that I’ve handled any serial killer cases personally. I kept track of all the Baton Rouge serial murders years ago. Those guys go after a certain type.”
“Joanna Chatelaine wasn’t a hooker.”
“Neither were Lee’s victims, but Joanna and her sister are connected to our other victims by way of their mission. Besides, there was a second killer in Baton Rouge and most of his victims were prostitutes.”
“Who’s to say Blanchard didn’t kill the other women?”
“He could have,” Caleb said curtly. “At the moment, we don’t have any evidence to indicate he killed her or the other women. For all we know, Blanchard could’ve been having a threesome with some of those gals from Magdalen House at the time.”
Marino chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be a kick?” His amusement faded. “You seem in a worst mood since you went to deliver the bad news to the victim’s sister.”
He ignored Marino’s observation. “We need to check out both men and see what we come up with. Also I want to get together with you, Jackson, and Bergeron to discuss the other two cases, since the possibility of this being the work of the same guy is pretty strong.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Marino looked thoughtful.
“What?”
“Your opinion of Phillips sounded on the same page with Blanchard,” he said. “I can’t understand what two good-looking sisters would see in those two jerks. And except for Blanchard, I haven’t even seen any of them in person.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Caleb mused. “But you ought to use present tense for Jamie. And Phillips sure wanted me to know she belonged to him.”
Marino laughed. “He must’ve been scared those baby blues of yours were going to lure her away.”
Caleb could have cut out his tongue. He should have known Marino would make something out of his comment. “Oh right, he’s got a lot to be jealous of when I’m around.”
Marino looked pensive for a short moment. “That’s it. Jealous of time the victim spent with her sister…or at the mission. That could be a motive for either man.”
“Maybe, but the other possibility is the killer is someone else not connected to the Chatelaines or either of these men. If there’s another murder, the department will probably need to ask the Feds or State Police for help or to at least form a task force. That idea isn’t my favorite plan, but it’s a strong possibility.”
“Yeah, I know. The chief will no doubt call for help with the investigation. Since he’s wanting to retire, he wouldn’t like all these cases left unsolved. A black mark on his career, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” A frown wrinkled Caleb’s brow. “We also need to discuss why no one in Homicide, including me, thought to check the Chatelaine sisters’ shelter for information about the two previous victims.” He bet Marino got a certain amount of delight at his admission of an error.
~ * ~
Father Greg Phillips was having a hard time preparing the sermon for next Sunday’s service at the chapel. He couldn’t seem to concentrate. His thoughts kept wandering to the two women who had been murdered since the first of December.
He felt guilty. If only he had tried harder… No, until they wanted to be saved from their dangerous lifestyle, all he could do was try to help them overcome their addictions. The Good Lord knew he had tried his best. He’d just have to keep trying.
The phone on his desk rang. The number on the ID indicated his nephew was the caller. Michael rarely called him during the day except for an emergency.
“Michael, this is a surprise. I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to you much lately.”
“This isn’t a social call, Uncle Greg,” he said in a clipped tone. “Joanna was found dead this morning out by Oak Park.”
“What in the world happened?”
“The police aren’t admitting it, but she’s another victim of the so-called Mistletoe Man.”
Father Greg took in a deep breath. “How’s Jamie taking the news?”
“She’s devastated. You know how close those two were.”
“What about Adrien? Was he informed?”
“Yes, he and I arrived at Jamie’s when the detective was giving her the news. Adrien’s not taking her death very well. I had to restrain him at one point to keep him from punching that cop.”
“That doesn’t sound like him. He’s normally more reserved.”
Michael snorted. “Aloof, snobbish…that describes him more accurately. He thinks he’s better than anyone else. He never was happy about Joanna fraternizing with prostitutes and drug addicts.”
“Really?”
“You know, Jamie told me Adrien once remarked to Joanna that the women at Magdalen House were the filth of the earth and she shouldn’t dirty her hands trying to help them.”
“I didn’t realize he felt so negatively about those unfortunate people,” Father Greg mused.
Six
Jamie’s world seemed to have fallen apart. A second sister had become a victim to the violence of the drug and prostitution culture. Instead of improving conditions for women in trouble, the creation of Magdalen House may have caused the deaths of three women. Her self-reproach was interrupted by an outburst in the room.
Adrien stormed across the room and stared out the window. “That cop has his sights on me.” He tapped his finger on the glass as if Detective Bourque stood outside, even though he’d been gone for at least thirty minutes.
Michael pursed his lips. “He also had his sights on Jamie. Did you see the way he looked at her?”
“Yeah, I did. But I doubt he believes she murdered her sister. He probably figured she was an easy mark since she deals with hookers and thought he could get her into bed without trying hard.”
Michael scowled at him. “Hey, watch it with the bad mouthing, Blanchard. Jamie doesn’t deserve that.”
She cleared her throat loudly. “Will you two quit talking about me as if I weren’t in t
he room?” She stood with hands on hips and glared at them. “I can speak for myself. I doubt Detective Bourque has any other intentions except professional, as far as I’m concerned.” Well, maybe he did. The way those blue eyes looked right through me…
She suddenly became uncomfortable with this conversation. Despite her distress over her sister’s death, she realized the attraction was mutual, a fact she hated to admit. Otherwise why would she have jumped into the conversation a couple of times? So he would notice her? “Please drop that line of thought. It’s irrelevant. I don’t know why you two would bring up the idea.”
Adrien’s expression softened. “I apologize. I don’t enjoy being under suspicion of murdering my fiancée. I loved her.”
“I love her too,” she said, noting his use of the past tense. “They have to eliminate the people closest to Joanna. Like Michael said, that’s standard procedure in a case like this.”
Adrien raked his fingers through his dark hair. “I’m not fit for company right now. I’ll see you two later.”
“Be careful driving,” Jamie said with concern. “You’re upset, so try not to get into an accident.”
He walked toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned to the others. “I’ll try to calm down, but I have to go to Dad’s office and inform him about Joanna’s murder. I’m not looking forward to facing him.”
Jamie watched him through the window as he drove away. “Why is he worried about telling his father about Joanna?”
Michael shook his head. “I have no idea.”
She eyed him with caution. “I have a question for you personally. You seem to believe that Detective Bourque looked at me in an inappropriate manner. Is that why you suddenly went all possessive and put your arm around me?”
He winced. “I know you and I are just friends and not romantically involved, but a man can tell when another man has something else in mind. I was trying to protect you.”
“Thank you for that, but I can take care of myself in regard to any unwanted attention from a man.”
Michael lowered his gaze. “Sorry.”
Jamie exhaled. “No, I should apologize to you. I didn’t mean to snap.”
He raised his hands palms up. “We’re all in a state of shock right now. I acted on impulse.”
“Okay,” she said, averting her eyes for a short moment.
“I hate to leave you at a time like this, but maybe Adrien had the right idea,” Michael said. “You look as if you need to be alone for a while. I have to get back to my office and take care of a few things anyway.”
She returned her gaze to him. “That’s probably a good idea. Call me later?”
He smiled briefly. “Of course. You know I will.”
Jamie told him goodbye at the door and didn’t even watch him get into his car as was her usual habit. She scolded herself for being relieved when he told her he needed to leave for a few hours to take care of some business. But he had read her correctly. She wanted to be alone for a while to center her thoughts.
The chore of notifying family members loomed before her. She pressed her brother’s number into her cell phone and waited for him to answer.
“Jon, I have bad news.”
“What? Another one of your prostitutes got herself killed?” His voice reeked with derision. “Why would I be interested?”
“I thought you would like to know that our sister Joanna was murdered last night,” she said through clenched teeth.
He exhaled loudly. “Oh God, no! I’m sorry for the outburst. Is her death the work of that killer who left the mistletoe on those other women?
“It appears so.” She expected to hear him say, ‘I warned you about the danger of this project,’ but he kept quiet. “I’m not sure yet when we’ll have services for her. The timing will depend on when the coroner releases her body.”
“I’ll get there as soon as I can get away. I have a few patients scheduled during the next couple of days, but maybe I can do some rearranging.”
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.” She ended the call and stood staring at the floor for a long moment. Her brother’s delay in coming to town disappointed her, but with a medical practice, a serious illness or accident by a patient couldn’t be rescheduled.
A stray tear trickled down her cheek. Then the dam broke. Sobbing, she ran upstairs to her bedroom and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on her dresser.
Why would anyone kill her sister? She knew there were many people in the world who thought prostitutes were dirty and didn’t deserve to be on this earth. Some of those spouting filth acted on their beliefs in violent ways by murdering women like Rita Naquin and Chanara Brown, the two previous victims.
Killing another human being was horrible, no matter what their status in life. But to kill someone who tried to help those women was unconscionable. That action bordered on Middle Eastern terrorists killing aid workers.
A frightening thought occurred to her. Was she in danger from this monster herself? She would bring that question up with Detective Bourque in the near future…sooner rather than later.
Michael would be upset if she went to the detective without confiding her fears to him first, especially since he accused the detective of having inappropriate ideas about her. But Michael wouldn’t be around her twenty-four seven.
She wasn’t in love with Michael. There hadn’t been any commitment between them as with Joanna and Adrien. She needed to be prepared. The man who murdered her sister and the other women could be coming after her next, for all she knew.
Jamie mentally went over the events of the meeting with the detective. Adrien certainly acted irrationally. Of course, each person grieves differently. Good thing Michael had kept him from doing something stupid. It was bad enough losing Joanna. She could visualize the scene having escalated with Adrien being taken off to jail.
Dismissing those recollections, she took several deep breaths to collect her thoughts before driving to the coroner’s office to formally identify her sister. The thought of seeing Joanna lying on a cold morgue table made her heart ache.
Jamie grabbed her purse and slipped the strap onto her shoulder. Stalling, she walked slowly toward the door. What could be worse than to view the body of your murdered sister and to imagine what her last moments were?
You can do this. She opened the door and stopped short.
A large manila envelope lay atop the welcome mat. She glanced around, but didn’t see anyone. Gingerly she picked up the envelope and scanned the front. Her name was printed in bold letters; no return address. The envelope had not been sealed, simply closed with the little metal clasps.
She opened the flap and peered inside. The envelope contained a black and white photo with a piece of paper. A message of some sort, she imagined.
She slid the picture out and stared for a long moment at the subject. Her brain finally acknowledged what her eyes viewed. The woman in the photo appeared to be dead. A sprig of mistletoe lay on her chest. Oh my God! This is Kim Hendricks. Would all the women who frequented our shelter be killed?
Her heart pounded with increased cadence as she read the note.
They can’t be saved. Close down that whorehouse or you’ll be next.
Seven
Caleb studied the photo he’d taken on his phone at Joanna Chatelaine’s crime scene. Mistletoe Man… Could a person get that stuff without climbing up in a tree?
He keyed the plant name into a search engine on his computer and scrolled down the list of articles. Damn, you can order a whole box of fresh mistletoe from online vendors.
His stomach growled, a reminder he hadn’t eaten anything except a sweet roll and coffee about six-thirty this morning on his way to the scene. He glanced away from the computer toward the office door. Marino had gone to pick up fast food burgers for an early lunch. It would be nice to have something solid to eat.
He started to enter the names of Blanchard and Phillips to see what might come up. A movement or sound in the hall
caught his attention. Marino must have made it back with the food. It wasn’t him.
Jamie Chatelaine stood outside the homicide office, clutching a manila envelope. She seemed upset and slightly confused. He went out to greet her.
“I need to talk to you.” Her voice sounded shaky.
“How can I help you?”
She handed him the envelope. “As I was leaving to go to the coroner’s office, I found this by my front door.”
Caleb glanced inside and saw what had her upset. His heart rate sped up. He didn’t like the subject of the photo. “Come into the office so we can sit down and talk about this.”
He ushered her toward his desk, then sat across from her. There probably wasn’t a big chance of getting usable prints—too many people had handled the envelope—but he pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully removed the photo.
The picture was professional quality and could have easily been used for a crime scene photo. The blonde woman pictured here was definitely deceased.
“Do you recognize this woman?”
“Yes, her name is Kim Hendricks.”
“You know her from Magdalen House?”
“Yes, she comes in often to eat.”
“I have to keep these for evidence.”
“Please do.” She raised a trembling hand to her throat. “I don’t care about seeing it again.”
She seemed pretty shaken up. He could understand why. Not only did she find out her sister was murdered, but she was informed via this photo that another woman from her mission appeared to be the next victim. Two in one night. This guy’s been busy.
Caleb keyed the name Kim Hendricks into the system. She had been arrested twice for prostitution. He hit the print button. Before he stepped away from his desk to retrieve the picture from the printer, he snapped a picture with his cell phone of Hendricks’ mug shot and one of the photograph Jamie received.
Upon his return, he placed the copy of Hendricks’ record and photo on his desk. “Jamie, can I get you something to drink? Water? Soft drink? Coffee?”