Finally she had risen and dialed Ben’s number. He had answered at the second ring, his voice wary and cautious, “Yeah, who is it?”
“It’s Dani. Did I wake you up?”
“No, I’ve been up for hours reading my old copies of the Congressional Record.”
“Let’s go get something to eat. Can you meet me at the Camellia Grill in half an hour?”
“Right. I’ll be the one with red-rimmed, sleepy eyes.”
Dani threw on a white blouse and a long purple skirt, slipped into a pair of alligator pumps, then hesitated. She gave the drawer of her nightstand a grim glance, then opened it, removed the .38, and slipped it into her matching alligator purse. She left the house quietly, although she knew that her mother would be awakened by the car starting. Should have left a note, she thought, but chose not to go back. I’ll call her from the office.
It took her less than the half hour she’d allowed to get to the Camellia Grill. She spotted Savage’s Hawk parked on the street as she approached the restaurant. She got out of the Cougar, locked it carefully, and went inside. There were no tables, just counters, and she went at once to seat herself beside Savage, saying only, “Hello, Ben.” He was wearing a pair of faded Levi’s, a white T-shirt covered by a black jacket, which didn’t quite conceal the .44 he wore under his arm, and a pair of black Nike running shoes.
A small chef with a black face made blacker by the white chef’s cap came over to them. “What can I get you folks?”
“Banana waffles and coffee for me,” Ben nodded. He glanced at Dani who merely nodded. “Make it two, Leroy.”
“Comin’ right up!”
The cafe was fairly crowded; it was a favorite spot for those who enjoyed early breakfasts. Located on Carrollton Avenue, not far from Tulane, students especially came there often. Several of them were there busily downing the fluffy pancakes served by the corps of black cooks.
Dani waited until two cups of black, steaming coffee were set in front of them, and she took a cautious sip before she said, “Ben, I went to Angola yesterday—to see Eddie Prejean—”
As Dani spoke, Savage watched her face, taking in her words carefully. She was good at reviewing things, and he knew she was filling him in for a reason. The waffles came, and Dani interrupted her recitation long enough to cut hers up and baptize it in maple syrup. She ate slowly, pausing from time to time to think about her story. She had the sort of analytical mind, Savage understood, that would dissect every word and every action, so he ate his own breakfast, taking it all in without interruptions.
Finally she ended by saying, “That’s it, Ben. What do you think?”
Savage pushed the last morsel of his waffle around in the pool of syrup with his fork, stabbed it, and put it into his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully, then swallowed. Dani waited, knowing that he would be thinking over every angle.
“I think it’s a waste of time,” he said finally. “Execution is when—nine days?” Putting his fork down, he took a swig of coffee, then put the mug down and turned to face her. “You know as well as I do the odds against finding enough evidence to get a stay. Practically zero.”
“I’ve got to try, Ben!”
“Why? Guys get burned pretty regular at Angola. What’s different about this one?”
“Well, I think God is telling me to do something.” She saw his eyebrow rise in a skeptical fashion, and looked directly into his eyes. “No, I haven’t been hearing voices, if that’s what you’re thinking. But if you’re even half serious about becoming a Christian, you’ll have to accept the fact that God does lead people.”
Savage saw that she was upset, and shook his head. “Sorry, Boss. Old habits die hard. Want to tell me about it? I’d like to help.”
Dani’s lips had grown tense, but now they softened, and she smiled. “Would you, Ben? Well, I realize it’s hard for people who don’t know God to understand things like this. It’s hard for me, too,” she added. She gave her head a shake, causing her hair to sway over her collar. “I’ve been wrong about things like this. I may be wrong this time—but I’d rather make a mistake than miss God.”
“Okay, let’s go over it.” Savage motioned for a refill of coffee, and when it came he tasted it slowly. “According to Prejean’s story, he’s got the goods on the DEQ and the governor—and he’s gonna publish a book that’ll blow them both out of the water.” He swirled the ebony liquid around in the white mug thoughtfully, then added, “I don’t think anyone can do that, Boss. It’s been tried before, but Russell is a tough nut. He’s slick and looks good, but he’s been on the top of Louisiana politics for a long time. No man can do that unless he’s a genius at covering up his tracks. I can name two or three guys who set out to nail him, and they’re not around anymore—but Russell is.”
“That’s right, Ben,” Dani nodded. “But even Louisiana voters get fed up eventually, and from what I can pick up, this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Eddie claims he’s got proof that Russell’s been bought by the chemical people—canceled checks and secret bank accounts—and one of the biggest wheels in the industry is willing to testify against Russell.”
“He better not shout about it from the rooftop,” Savage commented. “Some folks who tried that are feeding the fish in the Mississippi River. Well, what about the evidence against Prejean? I read the account in the papers. I’d vote him guilty on it myself.”
“It’s all circumstantial, Ben,” Dani frowned. “Eddie claims that he got drunk and when he saw Russell making a play for his girl, he got mad. Some of Russell’s goons put him out, and he says he went home and went to bed.”
“That’s not what the witnesses say,” Savage objected. “According to one of them, he left with the girl.”
“I don’t believe it,” Dani shrugged. “Eddie was positive about it.”
“Anybody see him leave alone?”
“He was too drunk to notice, he said.”
“Great! Well, how’d he get out in the country if he was too drunk to drive?”
Dani traced a pattern on the countertop, discouragement in her expression. She knew she was making a bad case, and it bothered her. She wanted Ben to believe her, and didn’t know how to put the story to him. When Prejean had told it to her, something in his thin face and frantic eyes had convinced her, but now it seemed unlikely.
“He says he went to bed and passed out. He remembers that somebody woke him up—or tried to, but he can’t remember. He thinks somebody gave him some drugs that really put him out of it, and he says he woke up in the car, sick, and with no idea what had happened.”
“He didn’t know the girl was dead?”
“No, he was definite on that.” Dani turned to Savage, adding, “I know it sounds thin. But you should have been there when he was telling it, Ben. When he spoke about the dead girl, tears came into his eyes. I think he loved her.”
They went over the evidence piece by piece, but the cafe filled up, and they had to leave. When they were outside, Ben said, “Let’s take a ride on the trolley. That’s a good place for a couple of private eyes to discuss a case.”
They got on the streetcar, found a seat isolated from the other passengers, and talked quietly. There was something nostalgic about the sound of the trolley, and even as they talked, Dani noted the fine old mansions. They passed under the expressway, around Lee’s Circle, then back toward Loyola and Tulane.
They were passing the Academy of the Sacred Heart when Dani finally said, “I don’t know where to start, Ben.”
“I do,” Savage smiled. “Poke a stick down a hole and see if any rats come out.”
Dani laughed, a relaxed sound, for the talk with Savage had brought relief to her. “Sounds like your most common method. Which particular holes do you recommend?”
“Any department of state government has a plentiful supply of rats,” he shrugged. “Prejean worked for DEQ. I know a guy close to stuff at the top. I’ll have a shot at that.”
Dani frowned, saying, “That
party where the girl was last seen—she had to leave there in a car. I’ll take my little stick and poke down that hole.”
Savage put his arm around her suddenly, and she knew that he was checking to see if she was wearing her .38. “It’s in my bag,” she said quickly.
Savage left his arm around her, but shook his head. “Hard to get a weapon out of that mess. Better wear it where you can clear it.”
“You’re hugging me, Ben,” Dani accused.
“The trolley driver is getting suspicious. We’ve got to make him think we’re lovers, or he’ll be on to us.” He turned to her, smiled, and suddenly kissed her lightly. Then he shrugged, saying, “It’s a rotten job, but somebody’s got to do it.” Then he got up, saying, “Enough of your romantic nonsense, Ross—it’s time to go to work.”
They disembarked from the streetcar, got into their cars, and left the lovely old street. As Dani drove away, she thought, He’s a pretty good guy to have on your side, that fellow!
Dani spent all morning in Baton Rouge. She talked to the hired help at the Leonard Hotel. She found several employees who had been on duty the night Cory Louvier had been killed, but they were all reluctant to talk to her. Dani was accustomed to that, for people in general didn’t like to get involved with the police.
She finally got some useful information from one of the waiters, a small black man of about forty. His name was Leon Williams, and he seemed much more ready to speak of the party than any of the others.
“Why, I seen that girl, miss,” he nodded, “and it didn’t never once occur to me that she was gonna be daid ‘fore mornin’—no, indeed.” He sobered and added, “But ain’t not a one of us knows when the Lord is gonna call us home. The book say, ‘No man know the day nor hour of his death.’”
“Did she act afraid, Mr. Williams?”
“Oh, no, ma’am! She wuz happy as a lark.” Williams coughed and added apologetically, “But she was drinkin’ hard likker—lak folks do at parties like that. She was laughin’ and dancin’ and havin’ a good time. Didn’t have no idea, pore little thing, that she was goin’ out to meet God ’fore sunup.” He blinked and said with a sorrowful note in his voice, “Sho’ hope she was ready ’fore she went.”
“You’re a Christian, Mr. Williams?”
“Why, I’m a preacher of the gospel, Miss Ross! Pastor of the Greater Golden Sunlight Tabernacle.” When Dani informed him that she was a fellow believer, he smiled happily. “Ain’t it good to serve the good Lord?”
From that moment, the small man eagerly gave his version of the events at the party. He had little enough to offer, but he did give one helpful hint. When Dani wanted to know more about the car Cory Louvier had left in, he nodded, saying, “You bettah talk to Bejay. He parks all the cars. I spect he kin help you.”
“Miss, I’d like to have a word with you.”
Dani looked up to see that a heavyset man with sandy hair and a pair of hard blue eyes had come up behind her. She noted that a look of apprehension came to Williams’s brown eyes, and she said, “Thank you very much, Mr. Williams.” Then as the black man hurried away, she turned to look at the man who was watching her. “Yes?”
“What’s your business, miss?”
“What’s yours?” Dani asked at once.
“Mullins—security.” He studied her, then said, “Maybe we better go to my office—if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Dani followed the big man to a small cubicle with no name on the door. He motioned to a chair, sat down behind the desk, then stated, “You’ve been questioning our employees.”
Dani took her license from her purse, and handed it across the desk. “I didn’t know there was a security force here, Mr. Mullins. If I had, I’d have come to you first.”
Mullins stared at the card, then handed it back to her slowly. “I’ve heard of you.” He took a cigar from his inner pocket, removed the cellophane, and lit it with a gold lighter. Dani was aware that he moved slowly and deliberately to test her, but she allowed nothing to show on her face.
“What’s your interest in Eddie Prejean?”
“I haven’t said I have any.”
“You’re poking around trying to find out about the night the bimbo got killed. Nobody but Prejean’s interested in that.”
“I can’t reveal the name of my client.”
“Yeah, I know all about that.” Mullins expelled a cloud of smoke in Dani’s direction. He grinned as she frowned and waved the smoke away. “Look, you got anything to ask our people, you clear it through me.”
“Were you on duty the night the young lady was killed?”
“Sure, I was. Want to hear about it?”
“Very much.”
Mullins shrugged his huge shoulders, leaned back, and put his hands behind his neck. “Just another government orgy,” he grinned. “Those guys can’t stand their jobs, so every once in awhile the big guys let them blow off steam.”
“Is Governor Russell one of the ‘big guys’?” Dani prodded.
“Don’t be cute, Miss Ross! You know the governor’s a swinger. He ain’t never made no secret of it. People in this state, they like that. Shows he’s a regular guy. Old tradition, goes all the way back to—”
Mullins rambled on, obviously enjoying himself. He didn’t mind talking about Prejean. “The guy was so drunk he could hardly walk, and sore as a boil. Him and the girl had a row right in the middle of the dance floor. Which you already heard about, I guess.”
“At the trial, one of the employees—a man named Givens—testified that Prejean and the girl left together. Did you see them leave?”
“Naw, but Givens did. He works in the parking lot. Go on, talk to him if you want,” Mullins waved his ham-like hand in the air.
“I will. And I understand the governor was interested in the girl who was killed. Is that correct?”
Dani expected the big man to deny it, but Mullins smiled again. “Sure he was interested. She was a good-looking broad and on the make. The governor likes that—and so did about ten other studs at the party.” He took the cigar from his mouth, ran his eyes up and down Dani’s body, and nodded, “You might have a shot with Russell yourself. Want me to set it up?”
“Why, yes, if you would.” Dani was amused at the startled look that leapt into Mullins’s eyes, for he had expected another answer. She got to her feet, pulled a card out of her purse, and laid it on the desk. “Thaf s my office number. Call me as soon as you’ve got me a date with the governor. You can tell him I’m looking into the death of Cory Louvier, and that I’ve got several questions he might like to answer privately rather than in front of some other gentlemen.”
“Hey—!” Mullins struggled to his feet, his face red. “What you tryin’ to pull?”
Dani smiled sweetly at him. “And I’ll tell the governor how much help you’ve given me on this investigation.”
She left the room at once, and was gratified to hear Mullins calling out, “You stay outta this hotel, you hear me—!”
Dani drove back to Mandeville, dark catching her before she was halfway home. Her headlights picked up the red eyes of a possum. As she swerved to miss the creature, she saw that it was a maternal situation, for several tiny ratlike babies clung to the scaly tail. “Better get home, Mama, or you’ll wind up at the ‘Roadkill Restaurant’ as the main course,” she muttered.
As the trees flowed by, she tried to block out the thoughts of Eddie Prejean and his problem. She’d discovered that if she concentrated too long and hard on a problem, she lost her ability to analyze it clearly. Her heart was with Eddie Prejean, but her head told her that he was guilty. He loved her, and she didn’t love him back—not enough, anyway. When a man like that sees he’s losing the thing he loves best, he’s capable of doing anything. She traced that thought to its ultimate conclusion. What would I do if I was about to lose my family or the man I loved?
She thought then of how she’d reacted with blind rage when her father had been killed by a sleazy mobster, and shook
her head in a faint gesture of despair. She resolutely turned her thoughts away from the case, and by the time she pulled into the driveway, she had regained some degree of ease in her mind.
She was pleased as she noted that the blue Hawk was in front of the house. She got out of the car and walked around to the back of the house where she found Savage giving a gymnastic lesson to Allison. The floodlights were on, and Dani stopped suddenly, standing in the shadows watching the pair.
Savage was wearing an old blue workout suit and a pair of scruffy Nikes. Allison wore a canary yellow tank top and a black scoop-neck unitard with legging stirrups. Savage was saying, “. . . a good one, but you forgot your toes.”
“Oh, Ben, I can’t remember everything!” Allison complained. Despite the cool night air, her brow glistened with sweat, and she looked tired.
Savage grinned at the girl, his face highlighted into sharp planes by the harsh floodlights. “You don’t have to remember anything,” he said. “There’s no time to remember. It has to be automatic.” He stopped smiling when he saw that Allison was frustrated. “Look, remember when you first started driving, how confusing it was?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“So many things to do—and all at once. Step on the clutch, pull the gear shift down, let up on the clutch and step on the gas at the same time,” he shrugged. “And you’d get so busy with all the stuff going on with gears and things, you’d forget to watch where you were going. And if you left out a step, the car would die.”
“I remember,” Allison smiled ruefully. “I thought I’d never get it all put together.”
“But you did,” Savage nodded. “Now you don’t get in a car and think, ‘First I have to step on the clutch, now I have to pull the gearshift down, and now I have to give it some gas’—You just do them, and it’s all smooth and easy. And you’ll do the same with your gymnastic work, Sweetie. You won’t have to think about pointing your toes—they’ll just sort of point themselves because you’ve trained them to do it. Now, let’s try it again—”
Race with Death Page 4