Chasing Shadow Demons

by John Moore

  “I’ve been waiting for you to get here,” he said. “Take a load off.”

  I sat across the desk from him and sneered into his cold, criminal eyes. “Where the fuck is Piper?” I barked.

  A slight smile lifted his jowls. “What makes you think I know anything about her?”

  Angry, murderous thoughts filled my mind, and I said, “You and the other shadow demons who prey on the desperate and the vulnerable know when someone who lives in the light gets dragged into the darkness where you dwell. If you didn’t take her, then you know who did.”

  “You are right. Usually I know everything that happens on the streets of this city. But with so many new players in the game now, some of my channels are blocked. I don’t know where she is. Victor may have her. Word on the street is he wants to ship her out of the country when he gets his hands on her. I can tell you he’s not taken her through the airport or I’d know.”

  “You need to find her,” I said.

  “Or what?” Clint said. “You don’t come in here and threaten me, you little bitch. If I snap my fingers you’ll end up as indigestion for gators in the Atchafalaya swamp. And . . . you wouldn’t be the first.”

  I paused before I spoke my next words. I didn’t care that I was on his turf. I looked him directly in his lifeless eyes and said, “New Orleans is about to read about the Dixie Mafia’s history of crime and their current depraved activities. They’ll learn about the hookers you put on the streets, the cops you own, the drugs you distribute. What do you think your boss in the penitentiary will think of that?”

  Clint drew in a deep breath. He sneered at me with contempt. “OK, bitch. I’ll put my feelers out. But I’m not risking any of my guys to get her back for you. I’ve got my own beef with Victor. If the little girl gets caught in the crossfire, it’s not my problem.”

  I stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I went straight to the Times to see Jess, the most street connected newspaper editor in the US. As always, I walked past security directly into Jess’s office.

  “Detective Baker told me about the young lady’s disappearance,” she said as I entered. “Sorry to hear about it. Would you like a cup of coffee? I’d sure like another one.”

  We retrieved our coffees and scooted back to her office. “I have run the traps on the street, Alexandra. All I can tell you right now is that the Dixie Mafia doesn’t have her. They are freaked out by Victor moving in on them. He’s a vicious killer. He and his Russian Mafia are trying to control prostitution and drugs in all of the major convention cities. He’s in Orlando, Atlanta, Los Angeles, and Nashville already. Maybe more than that.”

  “Do you know where he’s staying?” I asked.

  “Why? What are you going to do? Walk up to him and threaten him? He’d laugh in your face. You’ve got to go about this smarter than that.”

  “Jess, I really don’t know what to do. That’s why I’m here. Can you help me?”

  Her normally stern demeanor softened. “Yes, child, I can help. Victor is in the Marriott Hotel in Baton Rouge. He is smart, Alexandra, and he knows he has to have some politicians in his pocket. He always combines brute force with political influence to move against his prey. He’s spreading some money around the Louisiana legislative halls, working the unscrupulous politicians in BR just like lobbyists do.”

  “Do you think Piper is with him in Baton Rouge?” I asked.

  “Not very likely. If he’s taken her, he’d have already shipped her away from Louisiana. Give me a day or so and I’ll find out exactly what happened to her.”

  Oh shit, I thought. In a day or more she could be on her way to Eastern Europe to be Victor’s super hacker. I didn’t think I had a day to wait. But what could I do? Jess was right. I couldn’t go to Baton Rouge to confront Victor. He would just laugh in my face or worse. No, I had to wait for Jess to scour the city. If Piper were still in the city, Jess would find her.

  Time was flying by. I had to hit the road to meet Charlotte and Mr. Morris. Holy shit, I was still in the same clothes I wore to go on the cemetery tour. I needed a shower and a change of clothes. As I sped across the downtown streets, I tried Tom’s cell again. Straight to voice mail. Something was wrong. No way he would ignore my calls.

  I must admit having a shower and clean clothes calmed me a little. When I arrived at Superior Sugar’s office, I noticed some changes. Two of the three flags hoisted on the poles in front of the building were flying at their normal height. The Superior Sugar flag was at half-mast. I asked the security guard if someone had died but received no answer, only a somber look and a slow escort into Mr. Morris’s office. Charlotte stood facing the window, gazing into the distance. She caught my reflection in the glass and spun to greet me. My eyes met her reddened eyes. She’d been crying. Did she know about Piper? Did she know something I didn’t?

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Please sit down,” Charlotte said. “I’ve asked one of the staff to bring us coffee.”

  We sat with our coffee in a deadly silence till Mr. Morris spoke. “Alexandra, I have been told my cancer is stage four,” Mr. Morris said. “It’s much worse than they originally thought. I have to undergo dangerous treatments that I might not survive.”

  Tears streamed down Charlotte’s face. She hunched her shoulders forward and she cried openly as I sat stunned by the news. Mr. Morris still looked so healthy. He looked the same today as he did the last time we met. Charlotte, on the other hand, looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She wasn’t her elegant, always perfectly put together self.

  “I am going to fight it as hard as I can,” Mr. Morris said. “My doctor is putting me through an intense round of chemotherapy treatments in Houston. He’s ordered me to reduce the stress in my life also. So I’ve decided to step down as president of Superior Sugar. My brother, Garrett, will take over. Charlotte told me you met him in Vegas at the Processed Foods Show. Charlotte and I are going to develop the stevia company. Will you help us?”

  “Mr. Morris. I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry to hear about your illness,” I said. “You can count on me 100 percent.”

  “Things are moving quickly. Our lawyers are working on the paperwork to put Garrett in charge of Superior Sugar. The stevia company is being spun off, and I will own all of the stock in that company. My doctors have opened my eyes about sugar and its effects on the human body. I’ve learned that when we eat too much sugar and other simple carbohydrates, our bodies produce advanced glycation end products, a mouthful abbreviated to AGEs. These AGEs are byproducts of sugars and proteins reacting with each other. They careen through our bodies damaging all organs on a cellular level. AGEs help cause cancer, heart disease, Alzheimer’s, inflammation, and kidney damage, just to list a few. I can’t be a part of that plague anymore.”

  I assured Mr. Morris I would help in any way I could. I stayed with Charlotte for a while to make certain she was alright. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Superior Sugar if Garrett Morris was going to be in charge.

  “He’s a pervert, Alexandra. He gambles, goes to underground dog fighting matches, and likes young girls. He’s always been a sick bastard,” she said.

  I remembered Jess Johnson and my old boss Mr. Jenkins warning me about him. I didn’t need any more trouble in my life than I already had. I needed to find Piper. I left Charlotte and worked my blog to try to develop leads on Piper’s whereabouts. I blogged till I fell asleep, nearly knocking myself out when my head hit the keyboard.

  I went to bed and fell into a deep sleep. It was one of those nights where my dreams were so real I thought I was awake. I dreamed I chased Victor down a dark road that ended in the swamps. He got out of his car and ran through the mud by the water’s edge. A huge gator popped out of the water and grabbed his leg. The gator rolled as he dragged Victor into the swamp. I froze and watched him disappear into the murky water. Good riddance, I said to m
yself as he sunk beneath the surface. When I finally awakened it was morning; the sun was beaming through the bedroom window.

  I grabbed my cell. No call from Tom, but there was a missed call from Detective Baker. Maybe he’d found Piper. “Detective Baker, this is Alexandra. Did you find Piper?”

  “No. No leads on Piper. We are trying to find this Amanda person you saw at Marie Laveau’s grave. Without a last name, it’s proving to be difficult,” Baker said, trailing his voice down to a low tone. “Alexandra, there’s something I need to let you know. I wanted to tell you myself. I just arrested Susan McAllister, the center’s director, for murder.”

  Chapter Eighteen:

  Looking for Answers

  “Susan arrested? There must be some mistake,” I said. “Susan would never hurt anyone. She is one of the most caring and loving people I know.”

  “How well do you know Ms. McAllister?” Baker asked.

  “Well enough to know she’d never kill anyone,” I said.

  I dressed, my mind panicked, searching to make sense from the words I’d just heard, and drove to the police station. I felt like I was living in some type of alternate reality. Susan arrested for murder, Piper kidnapped, Tom not answering my calls, and Mr. Morris sick with cancer. What the hell was going on? Even though Detective Baker warned me not to, I drove to the center first. Susan’s office had been ransacked by the police search. I tidied things up before I went to the family room to talk to the residents. I assured them that they were all safe and that the recent events weren’t going to affect them. I only hoped I was telling them the truth.

  When I arrived at the police station, Detective Baker was waiting for me in his office. There was a dark-haired woman sitting in his office with her back to me. I stopped at his door thinking maybe I was intruding till I heard the woman speak. That voice, I know that voice, I thought. It was Sophia, the Interpol agent who’d battled Bart Rogan with me. She was a sight for sore eyes.

  “Sophia!” I screamed.

  She stood and turned around and flashed the broadest smile I’d seen in many months. Sophia threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I trembled with joy, feeling the warmth of a trusted friend in this time of need. She would help me work my way through all of this. I knew she would. At least that is what I told myself as tears of joy eased their way down my cheeks.

  “Sophia, you look good. Are you OK?” I asked.

  “Yes, the doctors in Paris say I am completely healed. It’s so good to see you, Alexandra. Detective Baker was just filling me in on your problems.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Detective Baker, how in the world could you ever think Susan McAllister could be guilty of murder?”

  “Sit down, Alexandra. I’ll tell you what we’ve found. We received a tip that Ms. McAllister poisoned Tiffany at the shelter. The tipster said she kept the poison in her car. I obtained a warrant and found a vial in her glove compartment. The lab advised us that it contained pure aconite, the deadly poison also known as wolf’s bane. It’s the same one I talked to you about earlier. Though the autopsy report isn’t final, the coroner’s conclusion is that Tiffany was poisoned with aconite.”

  “She’s being set up. I know she wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I said.

  Sophia listened, raised her eyebrows slightly, and brought her hand to her mouth. “What do you know of Ms. McAllister’s past, Alexandra?”

  “Very little. I know she came from a broken home. She has dedicated her life to helping abused women.”

  Baker leaned forward in his chair. He grabbed his computer mouse in his right hand and clicked on the screen. “There’s a great deal you don’t know about her. Let me read the background report our investigators have compiled. Susan McAllister was born in Alexandria, Louisiana, in 1948. Her parents were Marty, a.k.a. Martha, and David McAllister. She attended Catholic school until her graduation from high school in 1964. Her father, an oilfield roughneck, was arrested six times for domestic battery, mostly from beating his wife, Marty. The couple stayed together despite their troubles. In 1968, two days after Susan’s graduation from high school, her father died. The coroner’s autopsy revealed he was poisoned with aconite. Marty McAllister was arrested and found guilty of murder. She served twelve years in the Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women in St. Gabriel, Louisiana. Susan moved to Baton Rouge a few miles from the prison to be close to her mom.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything other than she’s had a rough life. Just because her mother poisoned her father doesn’t mean she is guilty of poisoning a woman she barely knew,” I said.

  “You are right, Alexandra. It doesn’t prove her guilt. It does prove she was aware of the effects of aconite as a poison,” Baker said.

  “What possible motive would Susan have for murdering Tiffany?” I asked Baker.

  “I can’t tell you everything our investigation has revealed. But I can tell you we interviewed all of the people at the center. Some told us Tiffany complained to Ms. McAllister about the living conditions at the center. She intended to complain to the Department of Family Services in Baton Rouge. She was killed before she could lodge her complaint.”

  “Something is terribly wrong,” I said. “There is no way Susan did this. Has her bond been set? I want to bail her out.”

  “The judge has refused to set bail in this case until he gets more facts. She will be given a hearing to determine what the bail amount will be if granted at all. So, for the present, she isn’t going anywhere,” Baker said.

  “Can I see her?” I asked.

  My exasperation must have been evident. I was wringing my hands together. Sophia put her hand on mine and spoke to Detective Baker, “I’ll go with her. Can you arrange a visit?”

  “It’s highly irregular, but I’ll see what I can do,” Baker said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Baker said he’d call us when he had arranged the visit. Sophia and I went to Starbucks to catch up with each other. Sitting with Sophia calmed me a bit. I needed a break from all of the craziness going on. It gave me time to tell her all about Piper and her disappearance. She was amused to hear that Mandy Morris was dressing in black and leading haunted tours of cemeteries. Sophia thought it very odd that I hadn’t heard from Tom, and she promised to find out what she could about him through her police connections in Mexico.

  “I know Victor is behind everything that has happened at the center, Sophia. I have brought all of this trouble down on the heads of Susan and the residents. They are innocent bystanders, collateral damage as the Dixie Mafia calls them. I must find a way to stop Victor. If he has Piper, I’ll never see her again. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Alexandra, we have another problem too. Jaeger is obsessed with trapping Victor. I think he wants Victor dead. Victor is the grandson of Nikolai Ivanovich, a Soviet intelligence officer during World War II. He was responsible for expelling thousands of Germans from of Russia because he suspected they were Nazi sympathizers. More than a thousand died during the trip. Jaeger’s entire family perished on the train. Only an infant at the time, he was the lone survivor. He wants revenge, and he considers punishing Victor his responsibility to his family.”

  “Oh great! He’s lived his life brooding about how to even the score with the Russians. He’s putting my family in the middle of his seven-and-a-half-decade grudge fight. He’s as bad as Victor.”

  “Yes. I’m afraid you are right, Alexandra. At his age, I guess he feels he has nothing to lose,” Sophia said with the caring compassion of a nurse treating wounded soldiers on the front lines. Sophia was an odd mix of seasoned police hardness and Colombian softness. She was the type of person who could wrestle a cartel member to the ground and handcuff him, then rescue his cat from a tree. She possessed a delicate balance of fire and ice bubbling under her smooth, tan Colombian skin.

  “Sophia, I know you are here on your vacation time. Would you like to stay at my condo? If I can�
��t bail Susan out of jail, I’ll have to move into the center. That way if Piper comes back to the condo, she won’t think I abandoned her. I know my condo may bring up some bad memories for you and I completely understand if you don’t want to stay there.”

  “I’d love to stay there. I’ve long since put getting knifed by El Serpiente behind me. If we are going to get Piper back and run Victor out of town, we need to have all of our bases covered. No telling how long this will take to play out,” she said.

  Two hours passed and Detective Baker hadn’t called. Sophia and I cruised to my condo to settle her in. I grabbed my computer to check my blog. An anonymous blog post from Mobile told a story about Victor moving into the Alabama Gulf Coast. He infiltrated the locals, using his own hookers to recruit others. Those that didn’t sign on with him met a brutal end. She attached a photo of one of Victor’s lead girls sent into Mobile. There was no mistaking that face. It was Tiffany. Her name in Mobile was Blaze. Her post was clear evidence that she was tied to Victor. I showed the post to Sophia.

  “We have to get this to Detective Baker,” I said. “We can print it out after I get my things together. Maybe we’ll get more information when others read the post.”

  I packed some clothes to tide me over while I stayed at the center. It took me longer than normal to pack. I’m usually a throw a few clothes in a bag and head out kinda girl, but not today. I had no idea how long I’d have to stay at the center. I’d learned legal matters have a life of their own.

  I returned to my computer to print the post. The site wasn’t up. I tried to surf back to the site but kept getting an error message. Maybe it was me. Sophia also tried to find the site, without any luck. She attempted to navigate to it on her smartphone too. It was becoming painfully obvious that the site had crashed. I had a sinking feeling that Victor’s hackers were behind the crash. Try as we might, we couldn’t find it. The site was gone.

  I still hadn’t heard from Detective Baker. He must be having trouble getting me in to see Susan, I thought. I couldn’t wait any longer. I asked Sophia to try to find out what she could about Tom in Mexico. I was lucky she came to help me. With her Latin American contacts, she would have a better than average chance of finding Tom. She cranked up her phone before I even got to the door, headed to the shelter. Susan getting locked up had to frighten the hell out of the residents, and they were going to need some explanations.