Evil in Hockley

by William Buckel

  She hung up.

  Harry slowly walked to the door, pushed the bodies outside then closed it. The main catch was broken but the bolt was untouched. He knew it would be a waste of time hunting for Lenea. She had a talent for watching yet he hadn’t once spotted her. How did she manage that? Probably part of her magical spell over him. She could make herself transparent to his eyes.

  Marie was on her house phone calling friends to clean up the bodies on her front stoop. When they arrived she went out to help. When she returned she had a sack in her hand. Harry didn’t want to know what was inside.

  Chapter 25

  Marie seldom ventured from the French Quarter but today would be an exception. She had Harry drive her to the office of Sal Bejenco. Harry tapped the gun tucked into his waist for reassurance then got of the car.

  “Oh no Harry. There would be too much violence if you came in. I need to see Sal on my own.”

  Harry didn’t argue. Who would exchange words with a Voodoo Queen. She grabbed her sack and went into his office building. Marie walked passed a guard at the front desk as though he wasn’t there. He was looking in that direction but didn’t see her. Imagine that she thought.

  She walked into the office and sitting beside Sal was his nephew Joe. Sitting in an easy chair near the wall was Lenea. Marie nodded to her then said,

  “Hello sweetie.”

  Lenea smiled and nodded to her mom.

  Marie glanced at Sal then Joe.

  “Hello to you also.”

  Sal drew a deep breath puffing out his chest.

  “Who the fuck invited you?”

  “Well, you see Sal, I did. It would be rude if I didn’t return the visit your boys paid me last night.”

  Marie set the sack on his desk.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Marie Bastille.”

  “That supposed to fucking mean something, Marie,” said Sal. Sarcasm laced every word.

  “Well, yes it is. But let’s not get into that right now. I wanted to return the guns your boys lost last night along with their wallets. I’m not a common thief.”

  Marie dumped the sack on the desk and the guns dropped onto some paperwork, hands still attached. They’d been severed at the wrist and congealed blood plopped out of the open ends.

  Sal dry heaved and Joe lost his last meal on the floor.

  Sal yelled,

  “Frankie, get in here.”

  When Frankie the guard outside arrived Sal said,

  “Shoot the fucking bitch.”

  He pointed at Marie.

  Marie held up her hand pointed at Frankie then closed it mumbling a phrase. Frankie froze like a statue.

  Sal had an arrogant and determined look on his face.

  “I don’t believe in any of that Voodoo shit.”

  Marie smiled.

  “Ah, then you know who I am. Your boys also left behind their testicles. I’m having them in my stew tonight. Care to join me for supper?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I’m going to make you a deal Sal. You stay out of the French Quarter and I’ll stay off your docks. Deal?”

  Sal didn’t say a word.

  “I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

  Sal turned red and snapped.

  “This is bullshit. I’ll gun down everyone you know and then a few. Nobody walks into my office and threatens me.”

  Lenea walked to Sal and said,

  “Calm down. Let me deal with this and don’t fuck with Marie Bastille.”

  Sal was furious. His status as a mob boss had been undermined by an old woman.

  “And who the fuck are you that you’re going to take care of my business?”

  “I’m Lenea Bastille, Marie’s daughter.”

  Sal stood then yelled,

  “Both of you get the fuck out.”

  Joe eyes went wide.

  “But Sal…”

  “Shut the fuck up Joe. Just shut the fuck up.”

  Marie eyed Lenea then said,

  “I think we’d better leave. I can take a hint. I know when I’m not wanted.”

  They both left, Lenea out the back and Marie out the front to where Harry was impatiently waiting. Marie knew that if Harry and Lenea saw each other violence would be inevitable.

  She said,

  “Let’s go home, I miss the French Quarter already.”

  “Business go your way?”

  “Let’s just say I made my point clear.”

  That night at supper Marie served stew.

  “Eat up everybody.”

  Karma eyed her mother suspiciously then spooned some the stew. She knew that two men had been killed the night before, both would have taken her life. Marie, like her mother before her, considered it a type of victory dance to indulge in some of their enemies’ remains. She would assume others would want to share. Karma hoped that three non family members would dissuade her from her usual barbaric ritual.

  Karma asked,

  “What are those gummy chunks? I’ve never tasted meat like that before.”

  Marie shrugged.

  “Pork. I should have cooked it longer. It’s not quite done. But it’s healthy.”

  Chapter 26

  That evening Shelley said,

  “Where am I?”

  It was the first sign of intelligence Harry had seen from the woman.

  Marie answered,

  “With friends.”

  “Hi Shelley. It’s me Karma.”

  “Hello Shelley, it’s me Harry. How do you feel?”

  “Blind. Will it go away?”

  Harry had no idea whether it could be done but offered to try. The nerves attached to the eyes were delicate and if damaged… Well, he didn’t know.

  “Your eyes are severely damaged. We’ll see about a transplant when we get home.”

  Shelley lightly ran her fingers over the bandages. Her hands were healing to a point where bandages were no longer necessary.

  “Can I have some more ice cream?” she asked.

  Marie chuckled.

  “Of course, I’ll bring you a bowl right away.”

  Everyone had ice cream then coffee except Shelley who had more ice cream. The house phone rang so Marie answered. She spoke a moment then thanked someone she called Pierre.

  Karma knew Pierre was sort of an old version of a neighbourhood watch. He’d been around forever or so it seemed. The French Quarter was a close knit community and at the head was the Voodoo Queen, Marie Bastille. Karma guessed that Sal Bejenco was being an idiot and sent more of his goons into the old town.

  Marie wrapped a shawl around her shoulder and said,

  “I’m going out for a walk. Look out for Shelley, Karma.”

  Harry stood to follow.

  “No, I need to be on my own for a while.”

  Marie left the house and was soon greeted by Pierre.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “Six, in two cars.”

  “Can your boys handle them? I don’t want anyone hurt on my account.”

  “No problem. We can box them in with delivery trucks. If they don’t surrender, well…”

  “They have to be punished Pierre. In a way that will not infuriate them but will deter them from coming back. We have to set an example. Last night wasn’t enough, I fear.”

  “Leave it to me. I have half a century of creative experience behind me. Where are you off to?”

  “The docks.”

  “I’ll cover your back.”

  “Thank you Pierre.”

  Marie went to the stable where old Sherman kept his horse and buggy. Diablo his stallion was well past his prime but could still pull the carriage all night long. Sherman took lovers around the old quarter in the evening. Tonight he’d take her to the docks.

  “Hello Diablo,” said Marie.

  She petted his nose. The horse made a low friendly groan. Sherman appeared as if from nowhere.

  “Hello Marie. Where can I take you this evening?”

/>   “The docks.”

  “That’s a ways.”

  “I’m in no hurry. You have other business tonight?”

  “Not if you need me.”

  Diablo trotted through town, the sound of his hoofs echoing off the buildings. Some time later they arrived at the docks where a night crew ran forklifts in and out of warehouses.

  Sherman stopped the carriage short of the workers and Marie climbed out. She eyed the men as they shut down their forklifts. As she neared men started grumbling to each other in almost inaudible tones.

  They knew who she was.

  She spoke in a louder than normal voice.

  “I give you leave. Take the night off and have a drink on me at Randolf’s Tavern.”

  Marie had a running tab at the inn.

  They cheered then left in a group.

  “They won’t defy you Marie. You shut down the docks,” said Sherman.

  “Oh, I suspect they were doing me a favour. I wouldn’t have come had it not been important. They know. Let’s go home Sherman. Diablo needs hay and oats.”

  By the time Marie arrived at her house everyone had gone to bed except Harry.

  “Have a nice walk?”

  “Yes, it was a beautiful night.”

  “A Pierre called and asked me to give you a message. He said it’s all clear. I suspect Sal sent more men and that’s what he was talking about.”

  “Exactly.”

  Harry looked at Marie then said,

  “So far all the Creole people I’ve met speak perfect English. Well almost perfect, just a hint of French here and there.”

  “We’d better speak English. Over ninety percent of New Orleans is English speaking nowadays.”

  Harry already had his mind made up but he ran it past Marie in any case.

  “Men like Sal don’t give up. His ability to run his business has been questioned and he has to retake control. It’s my turn to take a walk. Can you ask this Pierre or one of his men to meet me at my car?”

  Marie thought about it then said,

  “If you do as he says, yes. He knows the town and the players. He has contacts everywhere.”

  They gave each other a knowing look then Harry left the house. He waited at Sandy’s car for ten minutes then an old man limped to the passenger side of the Chrysler. He directed Harry to an old stately mansion outside of town. The place was lit up and mob soldiers walked the grounds.

  “They expecting someone?” asked Harry.

  “It’s always like that. He’s got three union bosses under him that want to take over the show.”

  “Any connections here Pierre?”

  “Drive around back, down the next side road.”

  Harry drove around the rear of the mansion stopping at another gate. This one appeared to be a delivery entrance. Pierre punched numbers into his cell.

  “We’re here,” he said to someone on the other end.

  The gate opened, as electric motors whined.

  “Drive in and park near the garbage shed on the right.”

  A Chinese man soon appeared gesturing Harry to follow.

  Pierre said,

  “It’s all yours. I’m too old for this shit. Follow Ling. He’s Sal’s cook.”

  Harry followed the Chinese cook into the mansion and noticed someone slumped on the floor near the back door.

  The cook nodded and said,

  “I make him coffee that make him sleep. No caffeine, only some pills.”

  He laughed then led the way upstairs.

  Harry had already noted the lack of protection inside. Most of the guards were posted outside except for one at the servants’ entrance. Not a good plan if one wanted to stay alive. It was all for show.

  When the cook pointed to the bedroom Harry walked in. There was no complicated strategy: Sal was asleep, Harry grabbed a pillow, put it over Sal’s face, and pulled the trigger. There was a thud that could have been a door slamming or a food tray hitting the floor.

  Harry turned and left followed by Ling. They immediately exited the house. To Harry’s surprise Ling jumped into the back seat of the car.

  Pierre said,

  “With Ling gone they’ll know who the informant was. They won’t bother anyone else. Ling is single and can get lost in California under another name. It’s all arranged.”

  Harry was already clear of the house when his cell rang.

  “You’re the second best assassin on the planet.”

  It was Lenea.

  “Yah, okay.”

  She laughed then hung up.

  How the fuck did she know?

  Harry dropped off Pierre and Ling then parked and entered the house. Easy to do as the front door was unlocked. He noticed someone watching from the shadows as he entered. That would be one of Pierre’s boys. There was no telling if Sal had other hit men on the way, still on route.

  Chapter 27

  Harry eyed the clock in his room when he was awakened by a giggling woman. He watched Sandy run by the door dressed in an orange costume of frills and lace. It was six in the morning and he’d gone to bed at four. He wanted to roll over and sleep but the laughter downstairs got louder with each passing minute. He showered then went downstairs to where all four women were busy adjusting each other’s costumes.

  “What the?”

  Marie turned from fussing with Shelley’s hair.

  “It’s a parade. A gay pride parade. The big one is on Easter Sunday but there are other smaller ones during the year. One in summer, today.”

  Harry asked,

  “Gay Pride? Marie you’ve had three children?”

  Marie shrugged.

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  He stared at Sandy.

  “Anything you have to tell me? I didn’t think you were gay?”

  Sandy grimaced.

  “Well, Karma and I decide we go both ways. For today anyway. We’re on the lead float, pulled by an old Cadillac. Wait till you see.”

  They were all too occupied with their dress for Harry to make any sense out of the affair. Even Shelley who was blind as a bat was totally engrossed with the dress she wore. She ran her hands up and down the sides and down her thighs as though trying to conjure up a mental picture. She gasped when she felt how much of her bosom bulged over the material. Marie was still touching up her hair.

  “I hope you like red Shelley, cause your dress is the deepest red I’ve ever seen,” said Harry.

  She sighed and looked downward although unable to see anything. Escaping death two days earlier made her glow.

  Marie wore a dark blue low cut gown with shoulder pads that extended inches on either side giving her already hour glass figure a boost. The gown extended to the floor in large pleats. The waist was tiny and she looked as though she was in danger of breaking in half. Dressed and in full make up she looked to be about forty but when Harry did the math it worked out to ten years beyond that, minimum.

  Karma took his breath away. Her thin black dress was made of silk, clinging to every curve. It was little more than a slip and under it she wore no bra. He could almost imagine she’d lost the panties as well. No seams showed.

  He felt a slap across his left cheek. It was light but did get his attention. It was Sandy, a frown on her painted face.

  “That was for the look,” she said.

  Harry countered with,

  “Well, let’s have a look at you.”

  A smile tugged at her lips and she stepped back feigning shyness. Her breasts weren’t huge but they were perky. Her dress was orange which accented her light frame. A darker colour would have made her look thin. It streamed with pleats and frills. He kissed her gently on the mouth then her cleavage. He backed up quickly expecting a slap but a giggle expressed her mood.

  Harry had learned one thing over the years that when a woman was dressed for an occasion they never ate and if they did they picked at food like a bird. He was the only one eating breakfast that morning although Karma and Shelley shared a piece
of toast.

  There was a knock on the door and Harry answered. It was Pierre dressed in a tuxedo wearing a top hat. Along the curb a sixties Cadillac convertible was parked and attached was an overly decorated float. There were streamers and all manner of coloured cloth, some three feet in height. The wheels were the old wooden spoke type he’d seen on an old hay wagon.

  Set in the rear of the wagon was a set of drop down steps like the ones gypsies used. Guided by Marie and Karma Shelley was escorted on board and given the honour seat at the very front of the wagon. They had put a woman’s decorative mask over the bandages covering her eyes. No one would ever be able to tell that she was blind. Her head moved in all directions probably to catch sounds.

  Marie sat left of Shelley and Karma at her right. Sandy stood behind Shelley, her hands on the woman’s shoulder for support. The combined smiles on their faces lit the street outshining the sun.

  The wagon edged slowly forward and the steel rims sounded like chalk on a blackboard. The float moved onto a main street then several others fell in behind. The French Quarter looked to Harry like streets in magazines of European cities. They were narrow, barely two cars wide and overhung with decorative balconies and wrought iron banisters.

  It started like cannon fire as a Jazz band moved along beside the floats. People standing and gazing at the activities joined others and the procession turned into a parade.

  Hundreds of folk cheered, some sang, and others laughed. Harry was caught up in it as well. He walked beside a horse drawn float with a half dozen women showing more cleavage than a mountain scene. If Sandy caught his stare she’d slap him silly. She was two floats ahead.

  Harry pushed through the crowd and caught them. There was no telling what would happen on an open public street. The reality of his life at this moment was the fact that Lenea was out there somewhere and so was Joe Sharky.

  Sal Bejenco was dead and three union bosses were fighting to take his place. One less problem to worry about but that still left the original ones still active.

  Harry scanned the buildings lined with people on balconies leaning over banisters. Some were taking pictures and some cheered as the floats passed. His cell buzzed so he moved off the street and into an alley.