by Polly Iyer
Stopping, Lucier said, “Run that by me again. He hit on you?”
“Unless I don’t understand English, yes.”
He glanced over her head at Lightner’s retreating back. “Why that son of a ― I should set him straight right now.”
He started to pull away, and Diana grabbed his arm. “Calm down. I told him my stud boyfriend wouldn’t approve.”
“Damn right.”
“He got all kinds of embarrassed and was about to slink away when you arrived on the scene.”
“What is it with men in power? They think they can get away with anything.”
Diana thought of Craven. “They get caught in the end.”
Lucier glared back in Lightner’s direction. “Come on. Let’s eat. This is the first time in a while I can honestly say I’m starved.”
“I’ll be right there. Gonna find the ladies room first. Those Cajun shrimp are just as good cold.”
He pecked her on the temple and joined the others at the table.
Diana knew the restrooms were down the hall right past the employees’ room she and Lucier searched after Keys was murdered.
She found the one with a cat wearing a dress on the door and entered. She gasped in wonder. The décor was pure Kitty, with posters of cats all over the crimson walls, even inside the stalls. Cat paper towels, a cat soap dispenser, and Eartha Kitt purring out a song over the speaker.
As she came out, she glanced through the half-open door of the dressing room. Something caught her eye. She checked the hall. No one. She eased inside.
Boots. Hand-tooled leather boots, the same ones she saw in Alan Feldman’s transferred vision. She slipped deeper into the room and knelt down to examine them.
“Do you like my boots, Diana?”
Diana shot to her feet and whirled around to see Miss Kitty standing there with a small gun in one hand and a knife in the other down by her side. She patted her heart. “You scared me, Miss Kitty.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“I saw your boots through the open door. Where on earth did you get them? I must have a pair. They’re quite distinctive.”
“Really?”
Diana’s mind worked overtime, her attention locked on the gun. “Did you think I was trying to steal them?”
“For your teeny, tiny feet? Hardly.”
“Then why are you pointing a gun at me? And what’s with the knife?”
“I’m sorry about this. I rarely make such stupid mistakes. I should have thrown these out in the trash, or at the very least, left them at home. How did you know? And don’t tell me a vision.” Miss Kitty cocked her head, curious. “Was it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Diana said, hoping the bluff might work, knowing it wouldn’t. “I just saw them and came in for a closer look. I know I shouldn’t have entered without permission. I’m sorry, but there’s no need for a gun.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll just be going.”
Miss Kitty laughed, a full-throated guffaw, but the levity ended when she grabbed Diana’s arm with a viselike grip. “You’re good, Diana, but being nosy is going to cost you.” She waved the gun. “See that door at the back of this room? We’re going to walk through into the Alley. If you make a peep, this very sharp knife will cut right through your vocal chords. Now move.”
More the size of Lucier, Miss Kitty towered over Diana by about a foot, solidly built with muscular arms and back. “Ernie will wonder where I am and come looking.”
“That’s why we have to hurry, honey.” She jabbed the knife into Diana’s ribs hard enough to hurt.
There wasn’t any reason to play coy anymore. “So you’re the missing link. Who was the boss, you or Craven? Is Emile in on this too?”
“Leave Emile out of this. Move.”
This time Diana decided to make a stand. She stopped and turned. “You know, I’m sick of getting into these situations.”
“Honey, you have a trouble magnet attached to you.” Miss Kitty practically catapulted her out the door, snatching her handbag from a shelf on the way out.
“Ern ―” The knife’s edge sliced at her arm, drawing blood, before she could finish calling Lucier’s name.
“Not only are you trouble, you’re dumber than dirt.”
Kitty closed the door and pushed Diana to the end of Pirates Alley. They dodged cars crossing Royal to Orleans, where she clicked the remote on her key fob. Lights flashed on a parked Jaguar.
“Get into the driver’s side. I don’t trust leaving you alone for one second.”
“I’m bleeding. You cut me, dammit.”
“And if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Diana reminded herself that as part of the vigilante group, Miss Kitty had killed countless people and wouldn’t hesitate to finish her off. She pulled a tissue out of her slacks pocket and dabbed at the shallow cut on her arm. “Where are we going?”
“Where they’ll need a goddamn psychic to find you.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
The Connection
Lucier glanced toward the rest room for the tenth time. “Wonder what’s keeping Diana.” He got up and headed toward the ladies’ room. “Maisie, would you check the bathroom to see if Diana is okay?”
“I saw her in back with Miss Kitty a few minutes ago.”
“Where in back?”
“Diana went into the dressing room. Miss Kitty followed her. Then I had orders to take. I didn’t see them after.”
Lucier’s cop radar went into high alert. He went back to the table where Halloran and Cash had just arrived.
“What’s up?” Beecher asked.
Lucier repeated what Maisie told him.
“Let’s take a look in the back room,” Rickett said.
“Check around, guys. Outside too,” he said to the others.
Lucier pushed open the door. Rickett pointed to the boots. “See those?”
“Yup, and I’m sure Diana did too.”
“Meaning Kitty knows she’s been found out,” Beecher said.
“Where’s Emile?”
“What are y’all doing in here?” Emile asked, holding a champagne flute.
“These your boots, Emile?” Lucier asked.
“No, they’re Kitty’s. Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?”
“Where’d Miss Kitty go?”
“She’s got to be here somewhere, why?”
“She’s not, and neither is Diana. Kitty followed her into the dressing room, and now they’re both missing. Is there another way out of here?
“Yeah, through that door into the Alley. What’s going on?”
Rickett pushed through the door.
“Does Kitty drive here?” Lucier asked.
“Yeah. We live out a ways.”
“Make and license plate number of Kitty’s car.”
“I ain’t saying nothing till you tell me why.”
Lucier bent down to the little man and said in a slow, steady voice, “Because if I don’t stop your girlfriend, she’s going to kill mine.”
“What? Why would Kitty kill Diana?”
“Make and number, Emile,” Lucier demanded. “Now.”
Sweat popped up on Emile’s forehead. “Black Jag, MSKITTY.”
“Now, where would she go if she didn’t want anyone to find her?”
“I, I don’t know. She doesn’t tell me everything, like I don’t tell her my business either. That’s the way with us.”
Lucier remembered Emile’s affair with Moran, so he was probably telling the truth. “How does Kitty know Craven?”
“From here.” A frown twisted Emile’s features. “What are you implying?”
Lucier turned to Beecher, who had joined Lucier. “Put a BOLO out on Kitty’s Jag, license, MSKITTY. Hurry, Sam. Miss Kitty is Craven’s partner.”
“Oh, jeez.” Beecher moved to a corner of the room with his phone to his ear.
Rickett came back inside, shaking his head.
&nb
sp; “You mean in murder?” Emile said. “No. That can’t be. I would’ve known if she knew him other than him coming to the club.”
“That’s not what you just said. Kitty’s been leading a double life, and I don’t mean gender-wise.”
“It ain’t true.”
“What’s her real name?”
“Kitty Coltrane,” Emile said.
“The name she was born with, Emile,” Lucier said. “Now. I don’t have time to dick around.”
“I want to consult with my lawyer before I answer any more questions.”
Lucier swore under his breath. “Have it your way. If anything happens to Diana, I’ll charge you with accessory to kidnapping. Sam, arrest him.” Lucier started to walk away. “Get someone to close this place down.”
Emile chased after Lucier and grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
Lucier stared at Emile’s hold on his arm, and Emile let go.
“Samuel Massicot,” Emile said. “That’s Kitty’s real name. You won’t hurt her, will you?”
“That’s up to her. Do you have Wi-Fi here?”
“Yeah, hi-speed Internet.”
“Got your computer, Willy?”
“Never leave home without it. Laptop’s in my car.”
“Do a thorough history on Samuel Massicot.”
“Right now,” Cash said, hurrying through the crowd to the front door.
Lucier was about to ask Emile another question, but the man had his phone to his ear and was headed to the bar. Lucier hurried after him and snatched away Emile’s cell. “Don’t think so, Emile. You’ll get it back later. I advise you not to call Kitty or you’ll be arrested as an accessory.”
“Accessory to what?” Emile asked. “What did she do?”
“Kidnapping for starters.”
Emile stopped in his tracks.
Lucier said nothing more. He returned to their table where Walt sat by himself. “Sorry, friend, but we have a situation. Miss Kitty’s kidnapped Diana. She’s Craven’s partner.”
“What? Jesus. Anything I can do to help?”
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. Thanks.”
“What do you want me to do, boss,” Halloran said.
“Ask the wait staff whether anyone knows if Kitty has any special places.”
“Wouldn’t Emile know?”
Lucier leaned in and whispered. “Miss Kitty forgot to mention a few things about her life to Emile, but she might have spoken to one of the staff.”
“Why take Diana?” Halloran said.
“Same reason Craven did. Diana is Kitty’s get-out-of-jail card.”
“Not likely,” Rickett said.
* * * * *
Cloud cover left the sky dark as pitch, which meant the car’s interior was dark too, except for the dash lights. Diana slid her hand into her purse and turned on her phone. The GPS had worked once, could it work again? “This is the second time in as many days that someone has abducted me.”
“Like I said, sweetheart, you’re trouble, and this isn’t the place it’s gonna happen, hear? So throw your phone out the window, would you, please?”
“Why? You wouldn’t let me answer if anyone called anyway.”
“They wouldn’t be able to get through with the phone turned on, which is what you just did.” Kitty’s voice turned gruff. “Throw the phone out the window, Diana. I have plans for you, and I don’t want you to screw them up.”
Diana reluctantly withdrew her phone and pressed down the window button.
“Throw. It. Out.”
She did. Her best bet of being found just flew out the window. “How did you and Craven get together? You don’t run in the same circles, and you’re hardly his type.”
“Keep my type out of this. As for Craven’s type, you don’t know him. He saved my life.”
Diana looked long and hard at Miss Kitty. The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “How?”
“You don’t really want to know. You just want to keep me talking.”
“Yes, I do. I might be able to help you, later.”
“Oh, you’re going to help me all right, but you won’t be saving me from the death penalty to life in prison. No way will I spend one night being the jailhouse fuck. No way.”
Diana couldn’t argue with her reasoning and knew what would happen to a surgically altered male like Miss Kitty in prison. Her life would be a nightmare.
“Years ago, after Craven moved to New Orleans and was still a street cop, he answered a domestic abuse call. My daddy was beating on me for being … different. He’d beat me plenty before, but this time was bad.” Her head tilted up. “Really bad. He called me a fairy and every other name in the book. All those politically incorrect names. My mama was protecting me from him. He was a mean, drunken son of a bitch. He did things to us ―” She snorted. “Ha, a girl like you growing up couldn’t imagine the bad things he did. He killed my mama that night. Beat her so bad I couldn’t tell it was her. Beat me too. Almost lost one of my eyes.
“Craven showed up with another cop. When the other cop went to their car to call an ambulance, Craven shot my daddy point blank. Didn’t bat an eye, he didn’t. He told his partner Daddy pulled a gun on him. Daddy had a gun, but he didn’t pull it.
“Even if I could’ve talked, I wasn’t about to tell on him. That was both the saddest and happiest day of my life. They rushed me to the hospital. There was so much blood. God, the blood. I still see red whenever I remember.”
So that’s how it happened. “How did you and Craven get to be partners in crime?”
“I’m coming to that. Don’t rush me. Craven came to the hospital every day. I think he was afraid I was going to tell on him. I wouldn’t. Ever, and I told him so. He did the world a favor getting rid of that piece of shit. But now I was without a mama. She was the best of the best, and she was gone. I was fifteen-years old, a he/she ― Hell, I didn’t know what I was. I had nowhere to go except to Daddy’s mama, a mean old bitch if ever there was one. That apple didn’t fall far from the poisoned tree. But I went because I didn’t have a choice.”
Diana was so involved in the story she hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going. Looked like they were out in the country. Ernie would never find her. She was on her own.
“Craven visited. Sometimes he took me out to eat because the bitch didn’t have anything in the house fit for a dog. He never once commented on me being different. Didn’t take much to see I was.
“One day he took me to see his daughter. The one who ain’t right in the head. Most beautiful little girl I ever saw, like an angel with golden hair. He told me about how he fixed the bastard who hit their car, just like he fixed my daddy. I said I’d’ve done the same thing.”
The reminder of that day triggered a smile, Diana thought.
“Anyway, that’s how we started. For a long time it was just me and Jack. There was something cathartic about taking out abusers, bullies who were getting away with murder. Maybe there was something of my daddy in me after all.”
“And Chenault and the others?”
“Chenault was easy. He got his daddy killed in prison. Craven found out and roped him in. Then, little by little, the others got involved. There was something in their backgrounds Craven dug up that made them good avenging candidates. Only Chenault and Hodge knew about me. I stayed away from Chenault. He was a kinky bastard, and I didn’t need any of that.”
“When did you become, I mean, when did you change ―”
“Into a woman? Before I met any of the others except Chenault. Believe it or not, that old nigger daddy of mine had property. I sold some to pay for the surgeries. But I kept the house to remind me where I came from.”
Now Diana knew where they were going. Kitty’s childhood home.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Home Again
Lucier had commandeered a table in the back of Kitty’s where Cash clicked away on the computer. If any information about Samuel Massicot, aka Miss Kitty, floated around in the eth
er, the young man would find it.
“There’s a Luther Massicot and an Emmanuel Massicot from around these parts,” Cash said. “Luther would have lived in the district where Craven worked when he transferred from Baton Rouge. He had a son Samuel. Samuel seems to have fallen off the grid. No other mention of him.”
“Is Luther still alive?”
Cash clicked and clicked some more. “Whoa. Listen up. Police answered a domestic call at the home of Luther Massicot. When the officers arrived, they found Mr. Massicot beating his wife and fifteen–year-old son. The wife died at the scene. When a responding officer tried to restrain Mr. Massicot, he drew a gun on him. The officer, John Craven, shot the assailant in self–defense.” Cash leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You think Captain Craven killed him on purpose?”
“I don’t know, but this is where Craven and Miss Kitty met. Got an address?”
“Yup, and guess who owns the house now?”
“Kitty Coltrane.”
* * * * *
Miss Kitty pulled the Jaguar into a wide gravel driveway just short of entering an upscale, gated community with a large spotlighted sign that said Lakeview Commons. From what Diana could see in the glare of the headlights, the cottage in front of her was in need of a coat of paint but in decent shape otherwise.
“You know how much money I’ve been offered for this place? More than half a million.” Kitty laughed. “I got twice that for the rest of the property, and look what they built. Street after street of ugly McMansions on lots so small I bet the owners hear their neighbors piss in their bathrooms. Hell, I can’t tell one from the other.”
“Why would you keep this place? You obviously won’t live here. Is there even running water?”
“Running water and electricity. I keep the place to code so no one can claim it’s unsafe and condemn it. The snobby residents around here would love nothing more than to see that happen. I come here every so often to get away. Emile doesn’t know about it. He doesn’t know a lot of things about me other than I love him. He’ll know one day, because he’ll get everything. House, land, the works. No doubt he’ll sell this place off. Doesn’t mean anything to him. Everything here is exactly as it was that day seventeen years ago. I haven’t changed a thing. Blood spots still stain the floor. I smell the stink.”