The Valentine Hostage

by Dawn Stewardson

  Tugging off the gorilla gloves, Ben tossed them onto the desk. Then he pulled off the head, put it down beside the gloves, and casually stuck his hand in his pocket.

  While he was getting a good grip on his gun, Dupray simply stared at him.

  “You look even more like Ben than I recalled,” he said at last “Your hair’s different, but aside from that…”

  Dupray’s glance flickered uneasily to Monique, who’d finished examining the print and was now leaning casually against the wall. Then he focused on Ben again. His suspicions were clearly aroused, but he didn’t seem certain whether they should be or not

  “So, getting back to what you’re doing here, there’s been this death in your family and…?”

  “And I need to talk to the man who was behind the killings in Augustine’s.”

  The silence was palpable. Then Dupray said, “So talk to him.”

  “I mean, I need to talk to him right now. Tonight And I don’t know where he is.”

  “And you figure I do?”

  “I figure you can find out.”

  “Hey, it’s Mardi Gras, Larry. The Man won’t want to be disturbed. And he’s not somebody whose feathers I’d like to ruffle.”

  Ben shrugged, hoping he looked at least ten times as cool as he felt “It’s your call, Danny. But before you decide, there’s something I should mention. I have a gun—a Beretta 9 mm—that I took from a vault in St. Louis Cemetery Number One.”

  Dupray’s already pallid complexion went even paler. “You have it here? With you?”

  “Uh-uh. It’s in safekeeping. But if you don’t cooperate it’s going straight to the cops.”

  Dupray leaned back in his chair with studied calm. “That would be a pretty stupid move, wouldn’t it, Larry? When they’d find your fingerprints on it?”

  “It’s been wiped clean. But I’ll bet they’d be real interested in knowing it was found in Etienne Dupray’s vault.”

  “Well…coincidences happen. What can I say? Now, if there’s nothing else…”

  Danny Dupray leaned casually forward again, and before Ben even realized the guy was opening a drawer Monique cried, “Ben, watch out!”

  He was halfway over the desk—his gun pressed to Dupray’s throat—before Dupray got the drawer fully open.

  “Put your hands behind your neck.”

  “Take it easy…Ben,” he said, slowly doing as he’d been told.

  “Get his gun,” Ben told Monique. “Stick it in your purse.”

  She took it from the drawer and backed off.

  “Okay, Dupray, now let’s have the answer to the big question. Who wanted my father dead? Who set me up?”

  “You’re going to kill me if I don’t tell you, Ben?”

  “You’re damn right I am.”

  “Well, that’s one way of making sure you end up back in Angola, isn’t it.”

  MONIQUE WAS SO CLOSE to tears she could barely hold them back. In the movies, the villain always broke down when the hero threatened him at gunpoint This was real life, though, and Danny Dupray was following his own script.

  No matter what Ben asked him, no matter how he tried to trip him up, Dupray hadn’t said anything that even gave them a clue. And every time Ben pretended he was ready to simply shoot and get it over with, the weasel would say, “So go ahead and kill me. Because if I tell you who it was, that’s what would happen to me, anyway.”

  “You were involved right from the start, weren’t you,” Ben said, trying a fresh question. “You had to be if you were Larry’s contact.”

  “Involved is a little strong. It was just that…the Man was determined to ensure nothing could be traced back to him. So, yeah, I acted as Larry’s contact And I helped arrange for witnesses.”

  “You what?” Monique said.

  Dupray shrugged. “Weren’t you curious about why Brently Gleason didn’t testify at the retrial?”

  “You know why?” Ben asked

  “Sure. Because she discovered she’d been set up to witness the killing. Which made her figure there was a little more to that hit than met the eye—so to speak.”

  “And you set her up.”

  “Indirectly. I knew she was dating a cop. So I put the bug in the ear of another one of New Orleans’s finest, and he arranged for her to be in Augustine’s that day. Of course, she wasn’t the only one,” Dupray added with a sidelong glance at Monique.

  “Are you saying…me?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never understood how women can be so naive. You figured the photographer on that shoot you were doing, Frankie whatever his name was, was your friend, didn’t you? Figured he just took you to lunch at Augustine’s because he liked the place. Well, he took you there because he got a nice payoff. See, the Man knew a lot of the restaurant’s regulars would be too smart to testify. But a nice, law-abiding out-of-towner like you…”

  Monique exhaled slowly, scarcely able to believe Dupray was telling the truth. Yet he had to be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known Frankie’s name.

  “But how did you know about Larry?” Ben demanded. “Know that he existed?”

  “The Man told me. He knew.”

  “How?”

  Dupray shrugged again, then said, “I’m afraid I’m tired of all these questions. Which means it’s decision time. Either you kill me or you get the hell out of my club.

  “But you might want to consider that since you don’t have a silencer on your gun, my bartender would hear a shot for sure. And he’d be in this office in two seconds flat—with a gun of his own.

  “So, if I were you, I’d seriously think about option number two. If you just leave, you can still take off for some place that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the States.”

  For half a second, Monique thought Ben might actually blow Dupray away. And for the same half second she wanted him to.

  Then he picked up his gorilla head and gloves from the desk, glanced at her and said, “Let’s go.”

  She started for the door, knowing he’d made the only decision he could. He wasn’t a killer, and shooting Dupray would have done nothing except make an already impossible situation worse. But knowing there’d been no choice didn’t help. Not when they hadn’t gotten what they wanted.

  As she started down the hallway, Ben right behind her, hot tears were stinging her eyes. Danny Dupray had been their last hope, and now they were never going to learn who the Man was or prove Ben’s innocence.

  When they reached the end of the hall, Barb was lurking. “Did you find out what you needed to know?” she asked as Ben tugged his ape head back on.

  Monique shook her head. “But thanks for your help.”

  “Well…sorry things didn’t work out.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured again, glad her mask was hiding the tears that had begun trickling down her face.

  THE ACRID TASTE of failure in his mouth, Ben hustled Monique out of the Twinkle and down Dumainc before Danny Dupray could decide to send his guntoting bartender after them.

  “At least we got everything on tape,” she said at last. “And he did admit to playing a part in things”

  Ben nodded, but Dupray had confessed with a gun staring him in the face, which meant it wouldn’t be worth much to the police. Not on its own. They’d want the identity of the Man as much as Ben did. But he hadn’t gotten it.

  “Where are we going now?” Monique asked.

  “Back to the Crescent” He wrapped his arm more tightly around her shoulders, thinking how little time he had left to be with her. It wouldn’t even be until midnight now, because instead of waiting around for those flights he’d booked they should probably get out of town just as fast as they could.

  But he didn’t want to rush into a bad plan, so he needed a quiet place to think. And Dezi’s office would fit the bill—although not for very long.

  Dupray wasn’t going to sit on the information that Ben DeCarlo was alive and well and right here in New Orleans. He’d call either the cops or the Man, which
ever he figured would be worth more to him.

  And once he did, someone was sure to stop by the Crescent to see if Ben was hiding out there.

  “What?” he said, jolted back to the moment when Monique suddenly stopped walking.

  “The phone’s ringing.” She dug it out of her purse and answered it.

  “Oh, my Lord,” she murmured after a moment.

  “Oh, my Lord. Thank you so much. Oh, yes, you can’t know how much it helps”

  She pulled off her mask and stood staring at him for a second. Then a little smile appeared on her face and she said, “That was Barb. And remember how she knew Dupray called somebody the night Felicia was killed? Because she happened to be outside his office and overheard him?”

  Ben nodded, his adrenaline pumping. That smile had to mean they’d finally gotten a break.

  “Well this time Barb didn’t just happen to overhear. After I told her we didn’t find out anything, she intentionally wandered down to his office and listened at the door.”

  “And?”

  “And he was trying to get hold of your Uncle Dominick. Dominick has to be the Man.”

  “Dominick,” Ben repeated, feeing as if someone had just kicked him in the gut “What exactly did she hear? Word for word.”

  “Well, he asked to speak to Dominick DeCarlo. But apparently he wasn’t there, so then Dupray said that somebody had better track Mr. DeCarlo down— and tell him to call Danny Dupray at the Twinkle right away. That it was concerning an urgent family matter.”

  Ben shook his head, his throat tight If Dominick really was the Man, he’d had his own brother murdered.

  “Why would Dominick have done it?” Monique said.

  “I’m not sure. But the obvious guess is that he got tired of being number two, always taking orders from his older brother.”

  “And he put the blame on you because…?” “That one I’m really not sure about Dominick and I were never enemies. But I’m going to get some answers if it’s the last thing I do.” He hesitated, knowing how much success he’d have if he suggested Monique sit this one out Besides, the way things stood now, there was no guarantee she’d be safe at the Crescent.

  “So?” he said, half against his better judgment “Are you up to hearing what my uncle Dominick has to say for himself? Or better yet, are you up to taping it?”

  “You mean now? You know where he is?” “On Mardi Gras night? The only place on earth he’d be is at the Krewe of Abruzzi’s Mardi Gras ball.”

  9:32 p.m.

  THE KREWE OF ABRUZZI’S ball was always held in the grand ballroom of the palatial Garden Terrace Hotel on St. Charles Avenue, and getting from the French Quarter to the Garden District on Mardi Gras night took twice as long as it normally did.

  By the time their taxi pulled up in front of the hotel, Ben was sweating bullets—and not only because he was hot in his costume.

  If Dominick had gotten Danny Dupray’s message and returned the call, he’d know his nephew was wearing a gorilla suit. And Ben figured they needed all the advantages they could get, especially the element of surprise.

  He paid the cabbie, then glanced around, looking for Farris Quinn. They’d called him from the cab, en route, because however this story ended it was going to end right here. And the least they could do was give him the exclusive they’d promised.

  Not seeing the reporter, Ben took Monique’s hand and led her down the side of the hotel, explaining, “They check invitations, so we’re going to have to sneak in the back way. But the ballroom’s on the ground floor, and the smokers will have unlocked the balcony doors by now.”

  They reached the rear of the building and cut across the secluded gardens that sprawled away from it The night was overcast, and the only light they had to see by were the pale shafts drifting out through the French doors of the ballroom.

  The first few balconies they came to had people on them, so they passed those by. When they finally reached an empty one, Ben whispered, “We’re going to have to hop the railing.”

  “Good thing I’m a frog,” Monique whispered back.

  He’d have laughed at that if he hadn’t been so tightly wired. As things were, he merely squeezed her hand to let her know he’d noticed she was trying to lighten things, then said, “Okay, take your best hop.”

  When she grabbed the railing, he boosted her up.

  “Now,” he said, climbing over after her, “turn on the tape recorder and let’s go for it.”

  She gave him an anxious-looking nod and fumbled in her purse. After she was done, he took her hand in one of his and reached for the door handle with the other.

  “So far so good,” he said when it turned.

  “Ben? What if we can’t find Dominick? I mean, what if you don’t recognize him in his costume?”

  “I’ll recognize him.” He had to, he silently added, because his life depended on it

  He pushed open the French doors and they started forward, the music of the band washing over them as they strolled casually into the ballroom.

  It was hot and crowded, with the standard array of costumed guests dressed as everything from glittery showgirls to a skull-faced man in black carrying a scythe. Ben quickly looked away from him, trying not to think that seeing the grim reaper could hardly be a good omen.

  As the band segued into a new tune, he took Monique in his arms. They circled the dance floor twice before he spotted Dominick and Rose. Dressed in Greek togas and holding masks on sticks at their sides, they were standing chatting with another couple.

  Ben’s gut clenched at the sudden awareness that he’d be hurting Rose by hurting her husband. She’d always been his favorite aunt But his parents were dead because of Dominick, which left no option.

  “That’s him,” he told Monique. “The one in the toga.”

  He could feel her tension as they danced their way closer, and when he stopped she clung to him.

  “It’s almost over,” he whispered. “You hang back a few yards until we get out of the ballroom, then move closer so the tape recorder will pick up everything.”

  She nodded, looking terrified.

  “We’re going to be fine, Monique.” Praying that was true, he put his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the handle of his gun. Then, his pulse racing erratically, he moved to his uncle’s side.

  “Excuse me,” he said quietly. “May I speak with you privately for a minute.”

  Dominick looked at him, then smiled at the gorilla suit.

  Ben exhaled slowly. Dominick hadn’t talked to Dupray.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Uh-huh. I did a job for you a few years back. I’m Larry. From Vegas.”

  Displeasure flickered across Dominick’s face. “We have nothing to discuss.”

  “No?” Ben said in a mere whisper. “Well there’s a gun in my pocket aimed straight at you, so let’s take a little walk. And if I see you trying to signal anyone, I’ll shoot you first and him second.”

  Dominick glared hatred at Ben for a moment, then glanced at Rose and the other couple. “Excuse me for a minute. This gentleman wants a word.”

  With Monique following along, they headed across the room and out into the adjoining reception area, then down the hall until they reached a deserted recess leading to a supply room. It was just large enough to hide the three of them from prying eyes.

  “This’ll do.” Ben motioned Dominick into the alcove and took the Walther from his pocket. “Now, where’s your gun?” he demanded, targeting his uncle.

  “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not packing”

  “You’re always packing, even wearing a toga. So where is it?”

  “The small of my back,” Dominick muttered. “Hidden in the folds.”

  “Then turn around. Nice and slow.”

  Ben found the gun and removed it. “Okay, now turn toward me again.”

  “Larry, what the hell is this about? You got well paid for what you did. End of story.”

  Ben g
lanced at Monique, making sure she and the tape recorder were close enough. “Cover him for a second,” he said.

  Once she’d pulled the snubby out of her pocket and aimed it at Dominick, Ben took off the gorilla head.

  “I’m Ben,” he said, tossing it down and leveling his own gun at Dominick once more. “It was Larry who got shot last night, not me. And it’s you who’ll end up dead tonight unless I get some answers. Now, why did you have my parents killed?”

  “Are you crazy? I didn’t!”

  “That’s not what Larry told me,” he lied. “And it’s not what Danny Dupray says, either,” he said, adding another lie for good measure. “Or several others.

  Dominick suddenly looked less sure of himself. “Benny…how could you even think…”

  “Why, Dominick? Look, you—of all people—know I’m not a killer. And I won’t kill you if you tell me what I want to know. But if you don’t you’re a dead man. I swear it.”

  Dominick sagged a little, then slowly shrugged. “Your father was a hard man to work for, Benny. He just made me crazier and crazier until…”

  “Yeah, that’s about what I figured. But where did Larry come in? Why the look-alike? Why set me up?”

  “Benny…it just kind of came together. I was on a gambling junket in Vegas a few years back. And I saw Larry in a casino and thought he was you. I mean, I actually went up to him and slapped him on the back. But, of course, he didn’t have a clue who I was.

  “At least not until I explained that he was the spitting image of my nephew. Then he asked the date of my nephew’s birthday, and when I told him that he said you had to be his brother. He knew he had a twin who’d been adopted out.

  “Anyway, it started me thinking, Benny. And the more I thought, the more I resented you. I mean, there you were, walking around with the DeCarlo name but acting like you were too damn good for the rest of the family. And I figured… Well, you can probably fill in the blanks.”

  Anger was ringing so loudly in his ears that Ben could hardly think straight “How much did you pay him, Dominick? How much did you pay Larry to kill my parents and land me in Angola?”