The Mistletoe Murders

by A. C. Mason

“Some water would be nice.”

  “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” He proceeded to the break room. A few minutes later he returned with a bottle of water and a Styrofoam cup of coffee for himself.

  She unscrewed the water bottle top and took a sip. “Do you think Kim has been killed?” She shook her head. “Stupid question. Unless she’s acting, she is dead.”

  He took a drink of his coffee and made a face at the usual bad taste. “I’m afraid so. I’ll need to have all our patrol officers and the sheriff’s deputies on the lookout for another victim.”

  He could see fear in her eyes and anticipated her next question.

  “Am I in danger from this killer?”

  “There’s a strong possibility. You shouldn’t take the threat in this note lightly. Is there some place out of town you can go for a while?”

  “I could go to a cousin’s house in Baton Rouge, but I can’t leave right now. I have to prepare for Joanna’s funeral and notify other family members. Besides, our brother lives near St. Martinville, so he’ll be coming here. I spoke to him earlier.”

  “Was Michael Phillips or Adrien Blanchard with you when you discovered the photo and note?”

  “No, Adrien left shortly after you, and Michael left about twenty minutes later. He said he had some business to take care of.”

  Caleb thought as much. Otherwise, Phillips would have been down here with her, making certain everyone knew she belonged to him. “Exactly what does Michael do for a living?”

  “He’s a sales manager for Robertson Pharmaceutical.”

  “So his job involves a lot of traveling?”

  “Only around South Louisiana. He mainly works out of a local office. But he is away five or six days a month.” She glanced down at the floor.

  “Are you afraid to stay by yourself when he’s out of town?”

  “I wasn’t before Joanna was killed and this.” She pointed to the photograph. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Do you have an alarm system at home?”

  “No, we never had one installed. There didn’t seem to be a reason to have an alarm.”

  “You need to do so as soon as possible.” Caleb knew a lot of people in Oak Pointe who didn’t have alarms. No one thought it would ever be necessary in this small town. And some people were too stubborn to admit crime had come to them and their city. “A friend of mine has a home security business.” He wrote the name and phone number on the back of one of his own business cards. “You should give him a call.”

  She glanced at the card. “Thanks, I’ll look into this.”

  Changing the subject, he asked, “Is Adrien Blanchard employed in one of the family businesses?”

  “He’s an officer in the division of Blanchard Industries that deals with the chain of drug stores.”

  Caleb made a mental note. Both men dealt with drugs—although their pills were legal ones. “You said you were leaving to go to the coroner’s office. If you like, I can follow you in my car over there.”

  “That’s not really necessary,” she said.

  Caleb didn’t fail to notice her hesitation before she refused his offer. “I need to check on the progress of the autopsy, so it’s no trouble.”

  She looked relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Marino rushed into the office carrying two bags with the red and white logo of Dirk’s Diner, a local café. The smell of hamburgers and fries wafted in Caleb’s direction, reviving his hunger pangs.

  Marino frowned. “The entire population of Oak Pointe decided to go to lunch early.” His expression changed to curiosity when he saw Jamie Chatelaine.

  Caleb introduced Marino to her and informed him, “I’m heading over to the coroner’s office with Ms. Chatelaine to check on the autopsy. When you get a chance, take a look at the photo Ms. Chatelaine received. It’s in the envelope on my desk, along with a booking photo.

  “I compared the mug shot. It looks like the same woman. Stick my food in the fridge and I’ll heat it up when I get back.”

  ~ * ~

  “Yes sir.” Marino raised his hand in a two-finger mock salute as he watched the pair leave. “He could’ve just as easily phoned the coroner’s office. I don’t blame him one bit for wanting to tag along with a good-looking woman, but he leaves me with a list of orders like I’m some new recruit just out of the Academy.” He proceeded to open the food bag, pulled out a large container of French fries, and stuffed a couple of fries in his mouth. “Well, I’m not going on another a gopher run today.”

  Eight

  Jamie’s heartbeat increased when she turned her car into the parking lot at the Coroner’s Office. She dreaded the thought of seeing Joanna lying on a cold metal table. At least at the funeral home her sister would be clothed in a nice dress and laid out on satin, looking peacefully asleep.

  Bourque pulled his car into the space next to her. She couldn’t help wondering why he offered to accompany her. Probably just doing his job. However, she was glad he did, if for no reason other than she wouldn’t be alone.

  He opened the door for her at the entrance of the building. Nice to know there are still gentlemen in the world. Neither Michael nor Adrien even offered to come with her. What was wrong with them? She sighed mentally. I guess Adrien is still in shock. And Michael…his job always came before their friendship. Maybe she had been guilty of the same thing.

  She covertly eyed Bourque as they walked side by side through a long hallway toward the area where she was to identify Joanna. He had a ruggedly handsome face and a cleft in his chin like Ben Affleck. But those blue bedroom eyes…

  Jamie felt heat rush to her face. What is wrong with me? Bedrooms and Detective Bourque shouldn’t even be in the same line of thought. My goodness, I don’t even know his first name. She recalled seeing the name plate on his desk—C.W. Bourque. Carl? Cary?

  She quickly dismissed the name game as being a diversion to keep from thinking about her next task. The double doors at the end of the hall swung open and a man in green scrubs stepped out to greet them.

  The coroner, Dr. Daigle, clasped her hand with both of his and shook hands with the detective. An older man with a full head of white hair, he looked like a kindly grandfather. He’s probably used to meeting with bereaved people, she thought.

  “Only her face will be visible,” he said. “The rest of her will be covered with a sheet. Are you ready?”

  She’d never truly be ready, but she couldn’t avoid it. Thankfully he refrained from referring to Joanna as the body. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  Dr. Daigle tapped softly on a large glass window. The dark curtain on the other side swished open. An attendant stood next to a gurney with his hand on the hem of the sheet. The coroner signaled to him. The man pulled the sheet back to reveal the head.

  Jamie took in a sharp breath. She only needed one look to know. She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment. “Yes, that’s Joanna.”

  “Are you going to be all right?” Bourque asked in a soft voice.

  She straightened her back, determined not to collapse into grief. “Yes, I’m fine.” Turning to Dr. Daigle, she asked, “Is there anything else I need to do here before she can be released to me?”

  “Not at present. An autopsy has to be performed first. I plan on starting the procedure immediately. Then her body will be released to the funeral home of your choice. We’ll notify you at that time.” He patted her gently on the arm. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She needed to get used to the idea of her sister being referred to as a body.

  Bourque’s cell phone buzzed. He frowned when he checked the number on the display. “What’s up?” He didn’t appear happy about the caller’s response.

  He ended the call and regarded Dr. Daigle with a mixture of sadness and anger. “Looks like you’re about to get another customer.”

  The coroner shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. But we’ll be ready. Mr. Hee-bert has been notified, I presume.”

 
; “Yeah, he has. I’ll get back with you later about this autopsy, Doc.” Bourque placed his hand briefly on the small of Jamie’s back. “I’ll walk you out to your car. I’ve got to head out to a crime scene.”

  His action, although subtle, felt incredibly intimate. Now she knew she must be losing her mind. He was only being gentlemanly. However, she had to admit his demeanor seemed a lot less official than when he delivered the news about Joanna.

  She and Bourque walked in silence out of the building to their cars. Her mind raced with a jumble of thoughts. Her sister’s murder. Their fledgling mission to assist women in trouble. Someone obviously was targeting those women. A shiver ran down her spine. She might end up being another victim herself.

  She wondered how people who encountered death on a continuous basis dealt with their emotions. She was no stranger to the effects of violence caused by drugs and alcohol. Dealing with the problems of other people took a toll on a person’s mind and body. Was helping addicts, prostitutes, and women down on their luck really worth doing? It wasn’t worth Joanna’s life.

  Jamie knew the answer before she asked him. “Could your crime scene be for Kim Hendricks?”

  He stared straight ahead. “Most likely.”

  ~ * ~

  On the way to the new crime scene, Caleb kept going over and over in his mind the elements of the three previous murders. Although he had admonished Jamie to be careful when he left her, he really didn’t expect the killer to kidnap her off the street. He was still concerned about her safety.

  Prostitutes were easy targets because of their high-risk life style. They got into strangers’ cars all the time without questions. In his opinion, Joanna Chatelaine had been set up by that phone call, presumably made by a woman, in an attempt to lure her into a vulnerable situation.

  His theory posed additional questions. Could the killer have a female partner? Or was the woman caller forced to telephone Joanna?

  Nine

  Jamie drove across town toward the area of Oak Pointe known as Old Town. Red and green tinsel decorations and brightly colored lights hung on most buildings and street lamps along the way. She certainly didn’t feel any Christmas joy at the moment.

  Her car rumbled across the railroad tracks. Each time she drove over the tracks, the same thought crossed her mind. The worse part of every town was always designated as the wrong side of the tracks.

  Turning into the parking lot behind Faith Chapel, she spotted Adrien’s car. This was a surprise. Why would he be here? But then, why am I here? What do I hope to accomplish by being in the place Joanna and I worked so hard to create to honor our older sister’s memory?

  She entered the building and went straight to Joanna’s office. Adrien stood next to a wooden desk—an antique Joanna had discovered in a local shop and fallen in love with. The musty smell of old wood reminded her of the day she and her sister first saw the antique in the store window. Grief invaded her and seemed to encompass the entire room.

  Adrien stood with his back to the door, but she could tell he was talking on his cell phone in a low voice.

  The last words she heard him say were, “it’s for the best.” He ended the call and turned. A startled expression crossed his face, but he recovered quickly.

  Jamie frowned. “I certainly hope you didn’t mean Joanna’s death was for the best.”

  “Of course not. That phone call had nothing to do with her or her murder.” He looked hurt. “How could you think that I would be happy about her death?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. The stress of seeing her dead at the morgue has gotten to me.”

  Adrien went over and hugged her. “I know how you feel. It seems like a nightmare. I can’t believe she’s gone. You should have called me. I would have gone with you.” He moved away slightly, but kept his attention on her face. “When are we going to make funeral arrangements?”

  She hadn’t even considered Adrien’s input for Joanna’s funeral. How selfish of her. He was her sister’s fiancé. He loved her. “After the autopsy is completed, the coroner will notify me. Then we can start making plans.”

  “That’s fine with me,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “That makes us even. What are you doing here?”

  He averted his eyes for a moment. “I came here to see if any of the women might have any idea about who she might have met with last night. Of course I couldn’t get a straight answer.”

  Jamie had the feeling he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she dismissed her suspicions as paranoia. “You went into the back section?”

  He scowled. “You know I’m not allowed in there. The priest went and spoke to whoever is working today. No one knew anything.” Sarcasm filled his last statement.

  “Like you, I came here to try and see if I could determine who called her.”

  “You must have some idea.”

  “Not really.” She told him about the phone call Detective Bourque received when they were at the morgue and the photo and note someone left on her doorstep.

  “So the police believe you’re in danger.”

  “It’s a strong possibility. I was told the threat shouldn’t be taken simply as a bluff by someone who wants us to close the shelter.” That wasn’t exactly what Bourque had said, but she couldn’t believe otherwise. Someone wanted to shut down Magdalen House. And he knows where I live.

  She and Joanna thought they could save money by not getting an alarm system installed. Maybe the time had come to get one, regardless of cost.

  Adrien seemed genuinely concerned. “That doesn’t sound good. Whoever left the note and photo wants you to be looking over your shoulder. What are you going to do?”

  “I will simply go on with my life. There’s a funeral to plan for Joanna, and Magdalen House won’t run itself.”

  “Are you seriously considering keeping this place open?” He sounded incredulous. “What does Michael think about that idea?”

  “He told me he’d support me whatever I decided to do.”

  Adrien narrowed his eyes. “If you had been the one killed, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed Joanna to continue working with those people. The majority of those women can’t be saved.”

  ~ * ~

  Caleb exited his car at the new crime scene. This time the body had been left at the edge of a sugar cane field, one of the few not yet harvested. Located a short distance off an interstate exit, the field lay about three miles away from the truck stop where the burner phone used to call Joanna Chatelaine had ended up in a trash can.

  Cane stalks waved and rustled in the cold breeze. Toward the back of the field a large harvesting machine sat idle, its operator’s job delayed by the crime scene work. No doubt the farmer wasn’t too happy about the stoppage, especially since he was already behind schedule.

  Several local officials, including DA Jim Bradshaw and the parish sheriff Bill Gautreaux, had gathered at the scene. Two deputies milled around behind the bigwigs. Caleb’s boss, chief of police Darnell Baker, stood with the three other homicide detectives, Marino, Jackson, and Bergeron. The chief must be under pressure to find the killer, which meant he would feel the heat as well.

  He approached the group and greeted them with a nod. Hebert, the coroner’s investigator, remained in a stooped position next to the body, completely ignoring the assembled group.

  Caleb noted the victim’s appearance. She resembled the woman in the photo left on Jamie’s doorstep.

  “Any ID on the victim?” the DA asked, stepping closer to the body.

  Hebert looked up to face him. “None that I could find.”

  Caleb spoke up. “I have a probable ID for the woman.”

  He noted the guilty expression on Marino’s face before he broke eye contact. Apparently the detective didn’t look at the photo or Hendricks’ record, otherwise he would have recognized this victim. In retrospect, he must have sounded to Marino like a drill sergeant to a lowly private. He hadn’t been professional in his dealings wi
th the other detective. Even if he didn’t like Marino, he shouldn’t use his position to order the man around. This wasn’t the army.

  The other officers focused their attention on Caleb. “The sister of the previous victim received a photograph of a deceased woman, along with a threatening note. She recognized the woman in the photo as Kim Hendricks.”

  “I presume you’re talking about the sister of Joanna Chatelaine,” Chief Baker said with an irritated tone. “I want to hear more about this photo and threatening message.”

  The DA and the other officials moved closer to Caleb to hear his explanation. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and displayed the photos. “I believe she’s this victim.”

  There were nods and murmurs of agreement all around.

  “After Jamie Chatelaine discovered the envelope on her doorstep, she came by my office with the photo and note,” Caleb explained.

  “What did the note say?” Baker asked.

  “Basically the writer warned her she would be next unless she shut down her women’s shelter. Although, he used the term ‘whorehouse’ to refer to the place,” he added.

  ~ * ~

  Adrien Blanchard studied his father’s stern face. Robert Blanchard displayed the same callous expression he had worn that morning when he informed him of Joanna’s murder.

  No doubt he hadn’t shed any tears over her death. Her women’s shelter didn’t exactly fit in with the family social scene. Not that he was thrilled with her association with the place himself, but her connection did make it convenient for his side interests.

  The elder Blanchard removed his eyeglasses and carefully laid them on the desk. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “I need an alibi for Tuesday night and into early Wednesday morning. The cops could be looking at me for Joanna’s murder.”

  “What did you tell the detective about your whereabouts?”

  “I told him I visited Joanna until nine and was at home alone the rest of the night trying to get in touch with her.”

  Robert arched a brow. “Were you?”