Mostly Murder

by Linda Ladd

  “Do the Montenegros still use this man for contract hits?”

  “I do not know. I no longer have any connection with Jacques’s organization. It is not as brutal as it was in the old days, I hear. Jacques is trying to reform and become godly. He attends Mass here, and they say he mourns the death of his only child and wishes to atone before his own death.”

  Claire knew that only too well. Jacques’s young daughter had been a part of the case in which she had met Black. It had been the beginning of Claire’s own personal nightmare, too, with the demons from her past catching up with her.

  “She didn’t die by the hand of this assassin, Father.”

  “No, that is true. Another evil man killed that child of God.”

  “Did the witness ever say where he heard the cries in the swamp? Was it down our way? Around Thibodaux? Napoleonville? Chauvin? Where was it?”

  “It was down around those places, but no one knows where he dwells. I have heard he is still out there in the darkest depths of the swamp. Was this mark found on a murder victim?”

  “Yes, two different women. Both bodies were beaten and strangled and left on voodoo altars for us to find.”

  “Then I fear he is still alive and doing evil deeds.”

  “Father, there’s something else. Did you ever hear that this killer tried to frame others for his crimes? Plant false evidence, anything like that?”

  “No, he is a professional hit man. Usually he kills with execution style, a bullet to the head and another to the heart. But I have heard of cases when he used other methods and when he took children of his victims into his lair. Most were never heard from again, and nobody ever knew what happened to them. They may still be his captives somewhere out in the darkness.”

  “What families?”

  “There was a case I recall when the child survived and it was hushed up by the family. I understand he abuses these children in terrible ways. It was whispered by some that one survivor told tales of being terrified by him, for his sadistic pleasure.”

  “And he’s never been caught? Nobody’s ever gotten close to him? Not the police, no one knows who he is?”

  “He is very good at what he does. He has many years of practice.”

  “We’re good at what we do, too. We’re going to get him this time.”

  “That’s why I agreed to talk to you, but only here, in secret. I wish I could tell you more.”

  “You’ve helped us a lot, Father. At least now I know who I’m dealing with.”

  “God help you,” he said. “I will pray that you find this evil man. Go with God, my child.”

  Claire stepped out of the booth and looked at the back pew, where Zee and his family were kneeling together in prayer. God better go with her, she thought, because now she was pretty sure she wasn’t just chasing Madonna’s and Wendy’s killer, but a devil incarnate who walked among them and had for a very long time. Maybe even someone she knew, someone who passed her on the street and nodded a friendly hello. She headed for the back of the church. If this guy did tie into her case, if he was the one who had killed her victims, a sadist who terrified little kids for fun, he was going down, and she was going to find him and make him pay for all the death and destruction he’d wreaked on the innocent. And now she had a pretty good idea what the killer was. She just had to find him.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  For the rest of the day, Zee and Claire spent their time interviewing old timers and bayou dwellers in and around Lafourche Parish about this mysterious assassin who supposedly roamed the bayou swamps, unknown and undiscovered and unpunished. They went so far as to show the photograph of the killer’s Veve to people living on Bayou Corne and Bayou Lafourche, Lake Verret, and even as far away as Bayou Teche. Most of the people crossed themselves and looked afraid, but none of them admitted to knowing a single thing about any sicko snake man that haunted the deep swamps. Whoever this guy was, he had put the fear of God into his neighbors, or maybe it was the fear of the devil.

  After a long day and a pounding headache that just would not stop, she and Zee decided that they could do no more. It was getting dark and raining hard in the French Quarter when she finally got back home, and she hit the remote to open the garage door, pulled through archway, and stopped inside the double garage. Black’s Range Rover was not there, and she wondered where he was. He had not called her, either, or picked up when she had phoned him to tell him she’d be late. Something was amiss. She felt it in her bones, so she dialed Black’s cell again, and again got no answer.

  Inside the house, she was met by the unbelievably elegant surroundings and Maria Christo, who didn’t know where Black was, either. The woman hailed from Guatemala and was dark and petite and spoke with heavily accented English. She smiled nearly all the time, always carried a Rosary tied to her waist, and had been asking Claire frequently when they were going to put up the beautiful Christmas tree. Claire told her yet again that she and Black would decorate it soon and then headed straight up to Gabe’s bedroom.

  Claire found him in bed, holding Jules Verne on his lap and having a good old time teasing around with Julie Alvarez. The nurse was injecting him with what was probably another potent painkiller—likely the root cause for his very good mood. Gabe and Julie were both smiling, and Claire was relieved that he felt up to having a little flirtation while he recuperated. Jules immediately jumped down on sight of her, and she scooped him up and hugged the wiggling, yapping little poodle.

  “Well, Gabe, you seem to be feeling a helluva lot better today,” she said, walking up to the bed.

  Julie Alvarez was a really pretty woman, now that Claire got a good look at her. The other night, Claire had been so out of it that she hadn’t been able to think too straight. Julie was probably in her mid-thirties and had short brown hair cut in a stylish bob, green eyes, and an easy smile. She looked like an athlete, a runner, perhaps, like Claire. Julie also looked like she could give Gabe as good as she got, too. She turned to Claire. “Yes, he’s quite entertaining, bedridden or not, I must say. Is he always like this?”

  “Oh, yeah. When he’s not acting tough.”

  Gabe said, “Julie’s good company. What can I say?”

  “So? How do you feel?”

  “Not quite wonderful, not quite terrible. I’m alive, that’s good enough for me.”

  “He’s a good patient, but that might be because he can’t move around much yet and the painkillers are so strong.” Julie laughed. “Okay, Claire, if you’re going to sit with him awhile, I’ll take a little break. You okay with that?”

  “Sure, go right ahead. By the way, do you know where Black is?”

  Julie nodded. “Nick said he had to go meet Jack Holliday and to tell you that he’d be back later.”

  Claire wondered if they had one of their little secret-agent-man missions going on, and if she should worry about it, as she watched Julie depart the room. Then she sat down beside Gabriel. “So, how do you really feel, Gabe?”

  “I’ll be all right. I like that woman. She doesn’t take any crap off me. We’re gonna get along just fine.”

  “Name a woman you don’t like.”

  Gabe grinned, then winced when he tried to push himself up to sitting. “Speaking of women, I called Bonnie and she said they’re getting ready to move in on the Skulls. She’s already outta there and heading home to her office in Miami. I’m glad she’s safe. I was worried about her since I wasn’t there to protect her.”

  “Yeah, I saw her at Madonna’s funeral. She tried to tell me that they didn’t have anything to do with the explosion. At least, that’s what I think she was saying.”

  “She told me the same thing. According to her, they thought I was dead or in jail. They’ve been looking for my body in the bayous. So, no, I don’t think they threw the grenades.”

  “Well, I hope they keep thinking that. You’re out for good, I assume.”

  “Yeah, got the official word when I reported in this morning. They told me to lie low until the
y tell me otherwise. Bonnie and I are both gonna have to testify at the trials. But that won’t be for a while.”

  “Best news I’ve heard in ages.”

  Gabe lay back against the pillows and twisted around until he found a more comfortable position. He looked a lot better today, not so clammy and gray. His color was coming back and so was his legendary impatience. He shifted, tried to raise his arm, and grimaced with irritation. “God, I hate lying in bed all day and doing nothing.”

  “Get used to it. Flirt some more with your nurse. You can order anything you want to eat from Black’s hotel next door and they’ll bring it all the way over here on a heated silver tray. Can’t beat that. Just ask for Chef Stephen. So, hey, lie back and enjoy the good life while you can.”

  “Yeah, Nick already told me all that.” He studied her face for a moment. “I like him. He’s cool.”

  “Yeah, he is. Worries a lot about me. Too much.”

  “No shit?”

  They shared a low laugh at that observation and then they got real serious again and real quick. “That was close, Gabe. Too close for comfort.”

  “Yeah, I never expected anything like that to happen. Getting a knife in my back, maybe, or the hell beat outta me in some back alley, but a grenade blast never even entered my mind. Not exactly the Skulls’ style. But somebody wanted to get rid of me.”

  “Or me. Or Black. It could’ve been aimed at any of us.”

  “I’d bet on me. I’ve testified against a lot of bad guys before this assignment. One of them put out a hit on me, that’s my guess.”

  “Kind of messy for a professional hit man, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing.” He watched her face carefully. “Do you think it was you, then?”

  “We found a voodoo doll with my face on it, not thirty yards up the hill from that boat, and only a few days before it blew up. Sounds more reasonable to me that I’m the target.”

  “What about Nick? He got any enemies?”

  Claire tried not to look concerned, but she was. It could very well have been him, now that she knew that he played some dangerous games himself. “I don’t know anybody who’d want him dead.” Which was true, if not exactly forthcoming.

  “Maybe somebody who wants you wants him dead.”

  Claire sighed. “Okay, I had a guy fixated on me once. He’s dead, like I told you. Most of the other killers that I’ve investigated or apprehended are dead or in jail. If this was about me, the killer could have gotten me when I stayed out there by myself that same week. He wouldn’t kill all of us indiscriminately. He could’ve gotten to me when I was alone and not expecting anything.”

  “None of this rings true to me, Annie. Something’s very wrong with how everything’s goin’ down. You need to watch out. Better yet, take a few weeks off. Take Nick and disappear for a while, like Bonnie and I are gonna do.”

  Her birth name just couldn’t seem to die out, not down in Louisiana. “You’ve been talking to Black, I see.”

  “Yeah. He’s definitely got your best interests at heart, no doubt about it.” He hesitated. “He told me he offered you a private gig, the whole works, your own private investigation business. Told me I’d be welcome to come aboard, the minute you gave the okay. Said he’d pay me the big bucks and it wouldn’t be as dangerous as my undercover work.”

  Claire actually liked that idea. At least, Gabe would be relatively safe, if any of them could ever be bulletproof in their line of work. “So, what did you say?”

  “I said I’d think about it. Talk to you. See what you said.”

  “He told you to try to convince me to do it, didn’t he?”

  “Not in so many words. I can’t see much of a downside to it, though. What’s your hang-up about goin’ private? You’ll still get the bad guys.”

  “I don’t have a downside, really. I just like what I do. I’ve been unlucky enough to get tangled up with a lot of weirdos and serial killers, that’s all. I keep thinking percentages say that things’ll get back to normal sooner or later. Not happening this week, though.”

  “Hey, maybe they will. Like I said, take some time off, enjoy Christmas and New Year’s. You’ve earned it a couple of times over.”

  When Gabe shut his eyes and kept them closed for a few minutes, Claire knew he was tired, and the painkillers were taking effect. After he dozed off, she tiptoed out and walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. She took a quick shower and washed her hair and put on some soft, dark blue sweats that Black had given her, this time out of the gift shop of his new hotel. Hotel was embroidered in flowing gold script down one leg, Crescent down the other. Juan had built a nice warm, crackling fire in the bedroom so she sat down in Black’s leather chair and picked up her cell phone. Black had called while she was in the shower so she hit redial. He picked up at once.

  “Where are you?” he said.

  “I’m at home, where you’re supposed to be. Remember, we were going to have a nice quiet candlelit dinner outside on the balcony, just the two of us, and then another round of bedroom fireworks like last night. You lose interest in me already, or what?”

  “You need to get out here.”

  “Oh, no. What? Where are you? What happened?”

  “No, it’s not like that. I’m with Jack. We’re heading out to his place on River Road. You need to meet us there.”

  “Why?”

  “We just need to talk to you. It’s not too far from the Quarter. We’re on our way back from Baton Rouge so you’ll probably get out there first.”

  “What the hell were you doing up there, and why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “We had to check out something. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “I’ll tell you later, I said. Just meet us out there. Please.”

  Claire didn’t like that evasive answer very much, and she didn’t like the serious tone of Black’s voice. Something was up all right, and it probably was bad. Seems like it was always bad. “Okay, tell me how to get there.”

  “It’s an old plantation house, out close to Vacherie. Know where that is? It shouldn’t take you long. Remember when I took you to dinner at the Briarside Inn right after Thanksgiving? It’s the first plantation after that on the river road.”

  “You’re talking about the one with the high white brick wall around it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. It’s called Rose Arbor now. It’s got an electric gate, which will probably be closed. You’re going to get there first, so just wait for us down on the road, and Jack’ll open the gate when we get there.”

  “This better be good, Black. It’s raining outside, and I’m hungry.”

  Apparently, Black was not in a joking mood. “Be careful, okay? We’ll see you in a little while.”

  “Ditto back to you.”

  They hung up and Claire strapped on her weapons, donned a rain jacket, and headed straight for her SUV, intrigued to say the least, and yes, a little bit wary. But she went through Maria’s gourmet, state-of-the-art kitchen and grabbed a handful of miniature Snickers bars out of the freezer and an ice-cold can of Pepsi. She needed sustenance if they were putting off dinner again.

  The trip didn’t take long, and there was very little traffic. Everybody was snug at home, taking refuge from the stormy weather, and minding their own business, except for her, of course. But the rain was coming down like nobody’s business out on the river and her wipers were fighting for their rubberized lives. She knew that the Briarside Inn was a bed-and-breakfast in a beautiful columned antebellum mansion hugging the Mississippi River. The food was good, too, but pretty damn pricey for regular folk like her. She was lucky that Black always insisted on picking up the check.

  When she finally reached the fabled river road, only a few minutes passed before she drove by the Briarside. Next up was Jack Holliday’s other tawdry little abode, just where Black had told her. Greek Revival, from what she could tell, and palatial, extravagant. Oh yeah
, Jack had gotten lots of money somewhere. Probably not as much as Black had, but plenty, nevertheless. Maybe she should ask Friedewald for a raise. After all, she’d almost been blown to bits serving the parish.

  The plantation house sat up on a rise with the road between it and the river. The mansion was just barely discernible in flashes of lightning, and Claire pulled in and braked in front of the gate and observed the place through her rain-drenched windshield. It was completely dark on the grounds and everywhere else except for two big electric lanterns affixed to the bricked double entrance pillars. Dusk-to-dawn ones, probably. But the ornate iron gates stood wide open. So she accelerated again. Live oaks, tall and stately and ancient and hung with moss, towered above her car as she drove up a long, curving driveway, but they also could turn into dark, creepy monsters when one was alone among them on the proverbial dark, stormy night. Like at the moment.

  Thunder rumbled again, right overhead this time, and then an even bigger deluge opened up and obscured her windshield. She slowed down and watched her poor wipers veritably groan with valiant effort. Well, Black and Holliday had certainly picked one hell of a night to want to talk about something that couldn’t be discussed over the telephone.

  The road was smooth and well-maintained tarmac, even if it was twisty and turny as the devil and led way back into the woods. It finally came out in a cleared grassy lawn that was about the size of a football field. Maybe Jack’s clients practiced there. The rain smelled clean and fresh and full of ozone, but it was coming in off the coast and bringing plenty of thunder and lightning with it. There were lots of flower beds and English ivy climbing all over the oaks and trellises and everything else in sight, and empty concrete urns, which would no doubt be bursting with camellias and azaleas and blue hydrangeas as soon as spring showed up. No cheerful Christmas decorations, though, and no lights, no welcome mat, no wreaths. So, bah humbug, Jack. Something told her, however, that the house was going to be quite the sight to behold, maybe a Louisiana version of the Palace of Versailles.

  Seconds later, Claire reached the point where the road curved around a large central fountain that sported gown-draped, stone-sculpted Greek maidens pouring water out of fancy pitchers. When the stormy night cooperated and lightning lit up the place, she got a good look at the house itself.