A drug dealer like Titus would need to carry cash. Cozy pulled at the right pocket of his jeans as his body lay contorted in the tub. His shocked face seemed to be made of wax. She slid her fingers deep within the tacky wetness when a loud ring tone from his pants sent her reeling backwards. Some rap song echoed in the tub until cutting off a few seconds later.
“Jesus Christ.” She held her heart as she approached the tub again. Her face grimaced as her hand quickly slid into the pocket and pulled out his phone. It needed a code for entry. She smashed it on the sink, and then pulled out the battery and memory card for good measure. Closing her eyes, she entered the other pocket and discovered a huge wad of twenties, mostly unaffected by the hemorrhaging.
She left the bathroom to find a pen and paper and scribbled a list.
Bleach, plastic wrap, scouring pads, gloves, duck tape.
Chapter 11
The sliding sound of Heather’s slippers filled the hallway as I ate my cereal at the kitchen table. Her thick, brunette hair teased her face in a way that stopped my heart. She crossed behind me, but I could still feel her stare. Her hands slid over my shoulders and ran down both sides of my chest as she bent to kiss my neck. Her right hand went even further south into the hole of my boxers, pulling it out. The sensation was so intense that if a nail were driven through my foot, I wouldn’t have felt it.
“Out here? Really?” I whispered. “Alicia?”
“No, we’re not going to do it out here. I just want to do this for you. It’ll be quick. Alicia will sleep to ten at least.”
“That feels too good to argue.”
“Just relax. You need this. Your hard-on in record speed makes that obvious.”
I put the spoon back into the bowl and stood, signaling the bathroom door slamming in the back the house. I laughed in frustration as Heather kept hold of my erection as if on pause.
“I forgot.” Her bottom lip curled under. “I’m taking her to soccer practice this morning. This will be going on all summer.”
“Of course.”
“You know she always showers before breakfast.” She squeezed. “We can shoot for virgin speed.”
Alicia yelled from the bathroom. “Mom! Can you come here a second?”
“Damn,” Heather said, and shouted back, “Give me a minute.”
“You’ve been patient with me. Thank you. I think I’m ready.” Flex.
“It’s good to have you back.” Squeeze. My wife didn’t want to let go. She gave it a final tug. “Till we meet again.”
She left me standing alone as my man pointed north. I pulled the hole of my boxers back around my erection and returned to my soggy cereal, enjoying the fading sensation with disappointment. Then, my phone rang. It was the medical examiner. “Peyroux here.”
“You with Detective Gray?”
“Not yet.”
“You at the station?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t matter. I have some info on Ms. Robicheaux.”
“Is it the caviar?” I took a spoonful of soggy cereal.
“You’re incredible.”
“I do have superpowers, you know. My other senses have been heightened ever since I lost the sense of sex.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Go ahead.”
“It’s Almas Caviar.”
“How do you know that?” My spoon hovered between my mouth and the bowl.
“Process of elimination. I actually did some of your legwork on this one last night. I shot a close up and sent it to Chef Chagnard at Naquin’s. Friend of mine. Once he got over the fact that it came out of a dead woman’s stomach, he was quite helpful.”
“So, Almas Caviar? There must be lots of restaurants and caterers that have it.”
“No, they don’t. It’s the most expensive caviar in the universe.”
“Really? There’s caviar on other planets?”
“Anyway, Chagnard says it comes from Iran and distributed through England. There’s a website you can order it from.”
“Something that rare and expensive should be easy to trace.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll take a case of Abita Amber – cold.”
“I’ll send Gray right to the Winn Dixie. I’ll even throw in some moon pies.”
I took my cereal to the laptop in the living room and searched for Almas Caviar on the Internet. Almas meant ‘diamond.’ It came from the Beluga Sturgeon fish, common to the Caspian Sea. The Caviar House & Prunier in London’s Picadilly was the sole outlet, selling a kilo for over $27,000 a pop. Plus, according to the Caviar House website, the only restaurant that served it was the Seafood Bar at the JFK Airport, of all places. No US distributors. However, you could order online and they shipped anywhere.
Once we found the person who ordered the caviar, we’d find out what party Haley had attended. And once we found the guest list, we’d find the killer, who was possibly involved in a trafficking ring. How this bayou chick from Manchac ended up eating the most expensive caviar in the universe was certainly an intriguing puzzle.
Chapter 12
Titus had bankrolled the cover-up of his own murder. The items on her list were easy enough to locate at the Walgreens and Ace Hardware. It felt like everyone was watching her – everyone knew. She arrived back to Haley’s apartment building just before noon, spotting a man in the window of an apartment near the entrance. Did the landlord know Haley well? She smiled and continued on as if she belonged there.
The strong aroma of something she couldn’t place filled the apartment, and her nose led to Titus being ground zero. Decomposition had started the second she punctured his heart. She opened all the windows, then lit up another joint needed for this project. After a few tokes, she slipped on latex gloves, closed her eyes and pulled the knife out of his chest with a grunt and little sympathy. Titus wasn’t in the human classification. This was a predator.
First thing before cleanup was to handle the smell, and he was already in a container of sorts… it just needed a lid. The cellophane edge of the first roll was taped onto the rim of the tub and wrapped around its belly, which hovered above the floor on four ornate claws. She continued this process with three rolls until Titus was sealed in airtight, like a bowl of fruit salad. She drew the shower curtain, inhaling like a bloodhound to be certain that no funk would escape.
It made no sense to clean everything if she wasn’t going to dispose of the body, but she planned on staying there for a while. A generous spreading of the bleach quickly overpowered the room. In between deep breaths at the window, Cozy took the bathroom to task.
Two hours later, she found herself on the sofa with her head in her hands, her one puffy cheek stinging a bit. Her eyes burned, lungs struggled to take air, and her elbows and knees were spent. Her strong fingers were swollen and tingly, but her heart and stomach had settled. The crime scene was no longer an obvious one.
Having rested long enough, she stretched her sore muscles and inspected the entire bathroom with satisfaction. The living room was bare, except for the junkyard furniture. Then Cozy took three more ibuprofen. Her headache was almost gone, but Titus would be with her for a while.
Once dressed, a thought crossed her mind; Lucas would be getting a frantic phone call from Manchac if she didn’t check in. Despite wanting to have a friendship with him, she’d rather not have him in her hair just now. She left the apartment, planning to drive home to show her face and then come back in the evening when the bleach smell had cleared. However, when she stepped out the gate, she saw an empty spot where her car had been. Shit. Stolen? Towed? It didn’t matter. It was gone and she couldn’t report it.
She rang her momma at the corner bar to say that she was taking care of Haley’s release papers, but she would instead spend the rest of the day scouring the Quarter for Molly. The next time her momma would see her would probably be on the news.
Chapter 13
The morning’s erection wouldn’t leave my mind as I drove into work. My wife thought it silly
to refer to it as morning wood or my breakfast burrito, but I enjoyed annoying her. Every time I replayed the scene, it grew all over again. The police therapist would probably say that was a sign of healing, to be free of this anchor of guilt keeping me down. However, I probably just needed to stop being so selfish. My wife deserved better. Luckily, it didn’t take long to reach the station where other distractions would abound.
Tara accosted me as soon as I hit my desk, laying down a stack of files. “These are unsolved murders of women, some prostitutes.”
“You think there might be similar autopsy reports?”
“What if Haley Robicheaux isn’t the first? Charles cleaned up that video the best he could and emailed it to me. It sucks. His team’s been going over it, but he says it’s way too low res… Too grainy to blow up. I know I can’t see anything. But one thing is for certain, there are other women in that video.”
“Mind if I look at it?”
After examining the seventeen-second video to no avail, I moved on to the cold case homicides. Tara sat beside me catching up on paperwork and her eBay sales. When I grew tired of getting nowhere, I meandered to my Captain’s office.
“What can I do for you, Lucas?” She didn’t look up.
“You mind calling the FBI field office to see if they can initiate contact with the proper officials across the pond?”
“The Picadilly caviar?” Dobson finally looked up.
I leaned against the doorjamb. “Sure. Making a British contact should facilitate a dialog with the local magistrate who could get a list of the caviar purchases delivered to New Orleans.” My eyebrows popped up several times at her.
“Wow. You know your shit. You got it.”
While Dobson handled that, I accosted Tara back at her desk. “I got a hunch.”
“Well, then you better get that looked at.”
“Ha ha. The landlord Porter mentioned a black male that had been with Haley a few times. It just so happens I know the dealer who owns that territory. Titus is a hard name to forget.”
“So, have a uniform pick him up.” Tara’s eyes stayed glued on the laptop.
“C’mon, princess. We can both use some air. Some nice humid afternoon air.”
She reluctantly stood, looking around her desk. “Okay. It wouldn’t hurt to see if this was our guy, or at least question him about her comings and goings.”
Tara and I drove around asking business owners the whereabouts of Titus, but they hadn’t seen him since the day before, which was strange because he always made an appearance, as regular as a street performer. “If he couldn’t make the corner for any reason such as jail, he’d have a replacement at the ready,” Tara put in, fanning herself in thought. “We’re wasting time.” She kept her eyes peeled as I drove down Burgundy Street. “Let’s just get some uniforms to keep an eye out for him.”
“Give me one more shot.” I turned a corner. “Let’s go to the Marigny.”
“You want to start canvassing the neighborhoods outside the Quarter?”
I pointed. “It’s right down there. There’s a guy I know.”
We criss-crossed inside the crumbling streets and broken down homes of the Marigny until seeing a BMW pull to the side of the road. A slouched black man drew to the driver’s side and took money in exchange for a small packet. I let the Beamer escape, then crept up to the dealer with my grill lights flashing. His came over to us in frayed jeans too baggy for his frame, and his white T-shirt had all the stains of a short order cook.
“I know this guy,” I told her. “Just back me up and let me lead on this, okay?”
“It’s your show.”
When the car halted, he stomped his foot and put his hands behind his head as if on reflex. I casually got out of my car and pushed him against the fender. His hands slapped down on the sizzling hood in excessive drama. Tara smiled through the windshield and saluted while I patted him down.
“Nice of you not to run, Percy.”
“You should be arresting the bitches buying that shit, yo.”
“You telling me how to do my job? You should try out for the academy.”
“You just watched my last bag drive away, cop. What you gonna arrest me for?”
I held the gun from his waistband in front of his unshaven, oily face. “Got a permit?”
“Damn, bra. The gun I found in the ditch? I was just about to turn that in. Thought maybe there was a ree-ward.”
“Shut up, stupid mother fucker.” I slapped his head and cuffed his wrists before shoving him into my back seat. Curtains moved in the nearby houses, but no one came outside. An Audi crept towards us, then turned left before reaching this block. Business was good out here. I got in the car and made a show of kicking up rocks as we left.
“What up, sweets?” Percy greeted Tara.
“Well, aren’t you husband material.” Tara kept her eyes forward. “I think you’d have a better wardrobe, being so enterprising.”
“My shit gets invested. Ain’t going to do this shit forever, dig?”
“You wanna tour Esplanade?” I asked Percy.
“Sure, Peyroux. Whatever. Where you been? Ain’t seen you in months.” His razor bumps stood out like mountains when his face hit the sunlight.
“How’s your Mom an ’nem?” I asked.
“Don’t fuck with me. What you need?”
The car started to smell like ripe armpit and bologna. I pulled over next to a fire hydrant under a Magnolia tree. I propped up Haley’s picture up on the backrest. He leaned forward to see it, and then fell serious.
“I know the bitch,” he said. “She taken care of.”
My voice lowered. “What do you mean taken care of?”
“I don’t mean kilt. She taken care of. She gots somebody to keep her pretty, you hear me?”
“Her pimp?”
“Not pimp, Peyroux. This girl ain’t street; she an escort. She get bank for that pussy.”
“Eloquent as always, Percy. I need a name.”
“Shood. All I know is that bitch gets her shit from Titus. He told me she kept, but the nigga’ wouldn’t tell me who.”
“When did you speak with Titus last?”
“Last week. Why? The mother fucker dead?”
“He’s missing,” Tara said.
“Missing? You can’t find him in jail, then he either kilt somebody or he dead himself. Now, let’s talk the bis-nez side of this transaction. My time is worth money.”
“You would be getting a taste, Percy… If I hadn’t drove up on you in mid-deal. Your payment is not going to jail.”
“Damn.” Percy shook his head. “Let me out this bitch.”
I grit my teeth and gave Tara a serious stare she knew all too well. Haley was murdered and now Titus was missing… This was growing more and more interesting.
#
It was end of shift. Tara stood in the partition next to me at the gun range, like bathroom stalls separating us. Shots rang out down the line, but we could still hear each other if we spoke loud and clear.
She projected her voice. “This was a good idea, Lucas. Have you been back here since you took leave?”
“Yeah, once. Surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
“Cops are a bit reluctant to talk to me about you. Hold on a sec.” Eight shots fired in quick succession. After a pause, she knocked on the thin wall. “You gonna fire or what?”
“Or what. Let’s see what you did.”
The target rushed towards us and I stepped into Tara’s space to see her cluster, which all hit true to the head and chest. “Check it, bitch.”
“Alright, I’ll go. Tell me what you make of this.”
I went back to my spot and put on the headphones. Taking aim, I let the rounds fly without thinking too much about it, six shots in all. The silhouette came to me.
Tara’s eyes widened. “You’re three inches to the right. What the hell, Peyroux? Trying to give the guy a shoulder graze?”
“I started off drifting to the left. Now, I�
�m compensating right, but a hair of an adjustment ends up being exponential on the other end. I can’t seem to work it out.”
“Cozy was to your right when you fired and the fucker jerked her up at the exact same time. It’s in your mind to go left.”
“Right. How do I fix that when I’m aiming where I should be aiming? I aim center, they land left, and I over adjust right.”
“Alright, calm down. I can tell your muscles are tight.”
“I can’t try to compensate when it counts. Maybe that douche Harvin is right. I can’t aim worth shit.”
“We’ll fix it. We’ll come here every day and fix it. Consider me Mickey to your Rocky.”
“I’ll drink some eggs, but I will not catch a chicken.”
“Good. Keep your sense of humor. That’s how I know I haven’t lost you. Now, you reload while I go get a Coke.”
Chapter 14
Dusk settled on Rampart Street as Cozy walked out of the corner po’ boy place, full from a bowl of gumbo and a latte for dessert. She was glad to have been out of the apartment all day. The coffee tasted sweeter than her momma’s. She had found her second wind with the night rolling in. Despite being tired and her senses amped with caffeine, she kept her wits about her situation. She figured to have a few days at minimum before the landlord interfered and found Titus. However, her dark road to discovery and vengeance would continue on.
A car pulled behind her and tapped the horn, not causing much alarm until she saw the driver. It was Lucas and his partner Detective Gray. She bent slightly to look inside the car. “Lucas… Bet you’re surprised to see me.”
“I am.”
“You still on duty?”
“Just bringing Tara back to her car before heading home. You?”
Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel Page 7