Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash

by Polly Iyer

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” Lucier said. He put his arm around her, and his comfort made the tears swell in her eyes.

  “I feel guilty I never called him.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Things like that happen all the time. We get wrapped up in our lives and forget everything else. I’ve let people go too.”

  “Thanks.” Lucier’s perfect comment lifted her mood. Life had a way of getting in the way of life. She thought the service was over, but Emile marched to the pulpit.

  In a somber voice he said, “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Not a sound, not a breath, intruded on the silence in the chapel. “Keys Moran shared his kind heart throughout the city, visiting homeless shelters, donating not only his time but also his money. He once told me he was homeless himself as a boy, and it was a sin on humanity that in this great country anyone should be living on the streets. He gave pleasure to people in other ways, in his music and his teaching basic computer skills to kids in the neighborhood, never asking a dime for his time. We should all strive to be as good and generous as Keys Moran. He will be missed by all who knew him.

  “After the service, we’ll be celebrating his life at Kitty’s Kabaret in Pirates Alley in the Quarter. There’ll be music and reminiscences by his friends, food and drink until we run out.” He took a dark red handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped a tear from his eye. “Amen, Keys. I hope we meet again ―” he raised his eyes to the heavens ― ”up there.”

  Diana sniffed. “Amen.” Unashamed, she wiped tears from her cheeks. “He was a sweet man.” She gazed up at Lucier. “We must find his killer, Ernie. We must.”

  “We will.” They filed out of their row and joined the others outside. He cocked his head to a woman leaving the chapel. “That’s Moran’s friend from Kitty’s. I recognize her, being the only white waitress. What’s her name? Maisie?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Commander Lightner approached.

  “Think I’ll get to her now before we go to Kitty’s,” Lucier said. “Talk to Lightner for a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  Lucier, following Maisie’s departure, said, “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  Lightner watched where Lucier was going, then turned back to Diana. “I’ve seen your act a couple of times, Ms. Racine. Quite enjoyable.”

  “Thank you, sir.” This time she extended her hand.

  The commander smiled and said, “Don’t take this personally, but I’d rather not give you a window into my soul. A man in my position holds many secrets, none of which concerns why you’re on the case. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Again, you give me too much credit, but I respect your privacy.”

  Lucier rejoined them with a shake of his head to Diana. “Any luck contacting Detective Chenault, sir?” he asked Lightner.

  “No, and it’s not like him to be out of contact. Frankly, I expected to see him here this morning. He loved Moran’s talent. I’m glad you didn’t find foul play at his house. You had some questions for him, I understand. Anything I can help you with?”

  “No, don’t think so.”

  “Does seem strange that the two of them are incommunicado. Do you think their disappearances relate to Moran’s murder?”

  “Too early to tell.”

  Diana resisted making eye contact with Lucier. Very coy, Ernie. You know damn well there’s a connection.

  “I’ll keep you apprised,” Lightner said.

  “And I’ll do the same.”

  As the commander moved on, another cop tapped Lucier on the shoulder. “Sad day, Lieutenant,” the man said.

  “Yes, it is. I never met Moran, but he and Diana were good friends. This is our brilliant tech, Rudy Hodge.”

  Hodge put out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Surprised Hodge made the overture, she took his hand. “Same here.” If she expected any vibes, she was disappointed.

  Captain Craven nodded to everyone when he joined them. “Tragic loss. I loved Moran’s performances. He’ll be missed.”

  “I will too, Captain,” Hodge said.

  “Sorry for your loss, Miss Racine. I know you and Moran were friends.”

  Pleased the captain held no animosity after her refusal to release her computer, Diana said, “Thank you. He was a sweet, gentle man. I hope you find whoever killed him.”

  “Since that’s up to the lieutenant, I’m sure the culprit will be brought to justice.”

  “No pressure there, huh?” Lucier said.

  “Not where you’re concerned. If you’ll excuse me, I see Commander Lightner up ahead. I need to speak with him.” Craven nodded to the group and hurried to catch up with the other man.

  “I don’t envy you, Lieutenant,” Hodge said. “Looks like another big case.”

  “Every murder is a big case. By the way, heard from either Denny Chenault or Anton Alba? I understand you play cards with them on occasion.”

  “Yeah, I do. Why, are they missing?”

  “I hoped you could tell me.”

  “I have no idea; we just play cards. They’re both single. I’m married and only play when my wife lets me out of the house.”

  “Well, if you happen to hear from either of them, have them contact me.”

  “Sure will.”

  “You going along with the procession?” Lucier asked.

  “No, my kid’s got a soccer game. Take care, Lieutenant. Miss Racine.” He turned and headed toward the church parking lot.

  Diana leaned into Lucier and said, “Is he the one you thought might be involved?”

  “Yes. He certainly wasn’t afraid of you.”

  “Jeez, I’m a pariah. No one wants to touch me. I never noticed it before because I touched people for a living. Now I’m an ordinary person, and no one wants to come near me.”

  “You’re not ordinary. You are who you are.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better. Did you get anything from Maisie?”

  “No. She hadn’t seen him since his last night at the club. She’s torn up.”

  Musicians waited on the street dressed in everything from Sgt. Pepper-like uniforms to suits to Cajun comfy, ready to march alongside the horse-drawn carriage carrying Keys Moran’s coffin to the cemetery a few blocks away. The dirge, reflecting the somber occasion, kept in sync with the slow-moving procession. Diana and Lucier got in line.

  The graveside sermon was short and sweet. As the casket was lowered into the grave, friends and musicians tossed remembrances on top. Diana dropped a monogrammed handkerchief, damp with her tears.

  When the ceremony ended, the procession started up again. This time, the music rocked, with horns and drums and singers marching along to the upbeat tempo. Diana had heard about the funerals of New Orleans musicians but never thought she’d be a part of one. Emile and Miss Kitty disappeared after the service, probably to get things ready at Kitty’s Kabaret. Someone mentioned that all the Pirates Alley’s businesses were participating in the celebration.

  Thank goodness she’d worn comfortable shoes for the trek to Kitty’s, because now the marchers were dancing and chanting Keys’s name. People lined the streets, cheering them on, lured into the frivolity, despite the occasion celebrated a dead man.

  As they neared Pirates Alley, the sound of lively music signaled the festivities were already in full swing. Lucier took her by the hand and whirled her around to the beat of the music.

  Laughing, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were such a good dancer.”

  “Got the rhythm from Dad,” he said with a shake of his hips.

  She laughed even more. “You’re full of surprises.”

  “Hope so. Still got a few you don’t know about.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Snookered

  Lucier held Diana close as they danced their way down Pirates Alley and inside the door of Kitty’s Kabaret. He twirled her around, and she threw her head back and laughed. The club was jammed with people singing and eating and te
lling stories about Keys Moran. Music pulsed from the small stage. Beecher and his wife came in right after they did.

  “I didn’t see you at the funeral, Sam,” Lucier said.

  “We ducked out right after the service. The long trek to the cemetery is for young people, not old farts like us.” He tugged at Diana’s arm. “You ever meet my wife?”

  “No. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beecher,” Diana said, smiling at the plump woman dressed in her Sunday best.

  “Call me Adele.” She glared at her husband. “Or old fart.”

  Beecher blushed and stuttered something under his breath that sounded remotely like an apology.

  “Sam’s told me so much about you, I feel I know you already,” Adele Beecher said.

  Beecher stiffened, and Lucier held his breath, anticipating Diana’s response.

  “Call me Diana. I bet your husband gave you an earful about me when I first arrived on the scene.”

  “About your being a phony? He grumbled in the beginning, but he changed his mind pretty quick. Sam’s a cynic. He thinks the world of you now.”

  “That right?” Diana asked her former nemesis.

  Beecher’s cheeks flamed. “Yup. Of all the psychics in my life, you’re my favorite.”

  Diana laughed.

  Beecher moved into Lucier and spoke in a whisper. “Cash said there’s still no trace of Chenault or Alba. I don’t like the feeling I’m getting. What do you think?”

  “Something happened to them.”

  “Like they’re dead?”

  “Uh-huh. Whoever else is involved in carrying out their special brand of justice isn’t sure who Moran emailed. Even if Chenault’s and Alba’s name are on Diana’s email, they can’t rat out their partners if they’re dead, can they?”

  “If you’re right, what do we do now?” Beecher said.

  Lucier watched Diana charm Adele Beecher the same way she charmed audiences the world over. “We wait.”

  “Wait? For what?”

  Lucier shrugged. “A break in the case.”

  “What about Diana doing the same thing she did with Soulé? It worked once.”

  “What did we do before she came along?”

  “We waited for a break in the case that sometimes never came. We have a secret weapon. Why not use it.”

  “Her, Sam. Not it.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Lucier knew exactly what Beecher meant, and he kept coming to the same conclusion. He was no different than Diana’s father, using her for his own purposes. Then he thought how different the situation was. Diana, now an adult, wanted to find the victims to find the murderers.

  “Guys,” Diana said, moving into their huddle, “Adele is grabbing the table where those people are leaving. I want to sample some of that yummy food on the buffet without eating standing up.” Diana yanked on Lucier’s arm. “Come on, let’s claim our chairs, then fill up.”

  “Might as well. I didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

  “Me neither,” Beecher said. “Tell Adele I’ll fix her a plate.”

  “I’ll fix yours,” Lucier said to Diana.

  Both Lucier and Beecher filled plates with everything from Kitty’s famous Cajun shrimp to barbecued ribs, spicy boiled crawfish, and fiery chicken wings. Chunks of Bananas Foster, dripping in sauce, and mini beignets took care of dessert. They headed back to the table.

  As soon as they sat down, Emile’s voice boomed over the audio system, stopping everyone in his tracks. “We’re honored today to have with us Miss Diana Racine, the famed psychic. She and Keys were good friends, and in his name she agreed to do a couple of readings for us.”

  “What?” Diana almost dropped the shrimp from her mouth.

  Hoots and whistles sounded throughout the club and onto the street, where people crowded near the door, waiting for someone to leave and make space. Emile smiled with a shrug. Lucier shot him a daggered glare. Talk about taking advantage.

  “What should I do, Ernie?” Diana said. “If I don’t agree, everyone will think I’ve broken a promise.”

  “Sneaky bastard,” Beecher said.

  “Oh, do perform,” Adele said. “I’ve never seen your act.”

  Lucier started to get up. “Emile had no right to put you on the spot. I’ll go set him straight.”

  The crowd, still excited, called out for her to pick them for a reading.

  “Damn,” she said. “No, wait. I’ll do the reading.” Her eyes narrowed. “Time to teach the little man a lesson.”

  Diana’s only link to her previous life was entertaining kids in the local hospitals, but Emile had put her in a difficult position. Then Lucier saw an expression on Diana’s face he knew too well. Poor Emile.

  Miss Kitty came up behind Lucier and bent over between him and Diana, resting one of her prominent fake breasts on Lucier’s shoulders. If she thought she’d get a rise out of him, she was dead wrong. He easily wriggled out of the way.

  “I swear, honey,” she said to Diana, “I had no idea Emile would do that. He’s a rascal, isn’t he?”

  “A devious rascal,” Diana said. “I was very specific when I said I didn’t entertain anymore.”

  Miss Kitty stood, raising her hands in defeat. “I’ll tell him you won’t do this for Keys. He’ll understand.”

  Lucier snickered quietly. Kitty’s even more manipulative than Emile.

  “No,” Diana said in a too-soft voice. “I’ll do it. For Keys.”

  “Oh, fantastic,” Miss Kitty crooned. “I see you’ve all filled your plates. Good. You’re way too skinny, Diana honey. Put some meat on that boney butt of yours.”

  Diana’s eyes popped wide open. “Boney?” She stood and craned her neck over her shoulder to get a better look. “Ernie, is it true?” The question came out more of a whine.

  Lucier appraised her backside, turned to Miss Kitty. “You need to be careful what you say to my woman. She’s got enough meat on her for me.”

  “Ha! Then you must be a vegetarian.” Miss Kitty waggled her shoulder, chuckled, and strutted off to tend to the rest of the crowd. “Eat up, now, ya hear? When you’re finished, Emile will announce you.”

  “Boney,” Diana said. “What a nerve. I’m petite, not boney.”

  “You’re perfect,” Lucier assured her. “Now come on, eat.”

  Diana pouted. “I’ve been snookered and insulted. I have a good mind to take my boney ass out of here.”

  “You’re a big deal for Kitty’s Kabaret,” Lucier said. “She didn’t mean anything. It’s just her Machiavellian way. And take it easy on Emile.”

  “Oh, I will, and I’ll use the same tactic he used on me.” She batted her eyelashes in mock innocence. “The crowd. Besides, if I don’t, Keys will visit me in my dreams.”

  Adele gasped. “Does that happen to you? Like the psychic on TV?”

  “Huh? Oh, no. Mine come when I’m awake.”

  “You’re in kind of a trance,” Beecher said, putting down a naked chicken wing. “Like you’re possessed.”

  “Oh, dear.” Adele flapped her hand over her heart. “I hope that won’t happen when you get up on the stage. I’d be scared out of my wits.”

  “My trances―” she glared at Beecher ― ”don’t always happen the same way. Stop scaring your wife, Sam.”

  “You gotta admit you go someplace else in your mind,” Beecher said. “So, you really gonna read someone? Really?”

  “Yup. I am.”

  Beecher snickered while picking up a Cajun shrimp. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He stopped with the food almost in his mouth, nodded to Lucier’s left, and mumbled, “Lightner.”

  Lucier turned, saw the commander. “And Dave Rickett. Wonder what they’re talking about.”

  “Ya think ―”

  “I try not to speculate. Their conversation could be as innocent as discussing the league baseball team.”

  “Maybe they’re wondering what Moran’s last hacking job for the district was.” Beecher picked up another shrim
p. “I’ve been thinking about motive. What if Moran was into these revenge crimes with those guys, and that’s what got him killed?”

  “Keys might have been a hacker,” Diana said, “but he wasn’t crooked.”

  “Seems contradictory,” Beecher said. “Hacking ain’t exactly legal. If anyone got hold of what he did when he worked for you, you’d’ve both been in hot water.”

  Diana straightened. “Keys handled our online promotion, lined up shows, and did the website, all the things necessary for an act these days. Nothing. More.”

  “Oookay,” Beecher drawled. “Have it your way.”

  “Besides,” Diana said, “I’d hate to think New Orleans’ finest would use a hacker, considering that Keys worked for y’all on occasion. Hmm, wonder what he did. Be a pity if that leaked, what with all this talk about wiretapping and surveillance going on.”

  Beecher coughed.

  Lucier got up. “I could use a beer. The staff is too busy. I don’t want to wait an hour for a drink. I’m buying. Anyone?”

  “Beer for me,” Beecher said.

  “What about you, Adele?”

  “Oh, I’m strictly sweet tea.”

  Diana swallowed whatever she was eating. “Scotch?”

  “You’re performing,” Lucier said. “Still want scotch?”

  Diana mumbled something under her breath. “I’d love a sweet tea, darling.”

  Laughing, Lucier said, “Be right back.” He didn’t want a beer as much as he wanted to horn in on the conversation between Commander Lightner and Dave Rickett, and they were right on the path to the bar. They saw him weaving through the crowd in their direction and smiled.

  “Commander,” he said to Lightner. “Long time, Rickett.”

  Rickett nodded, sipped his drink.

  “Twice in one day, Lucier,” Lightner said. “Ever since you and Miss Racine hooked up, you’ve been a ghost, and today you’re all over the place. She must keep you busy at home.”

  Lucier glanced back at Diana, licking the sauce from a chicken wing off her fingers. She caught him looking and smiled. “Yup. She keeps me busy.”

  “How are you coming on the Moran murder?” Rickett asked.