Longarm and the Voodoo Queen

by Tabor Evans

  "Yes, Mr. Parker, of course," said the clerk. "We've been holding the room." He turned the register around and slid it across the highly polished counter toward Longarm. "If you'd just sign in..."

  Longarm scrawled C Parker, St. Louis in the space the clerk indicated. The man turned the book back toward him and went on. "How long will you be staying with us, sir?"

  "I'm not sure," said Longarm. "Several days anyway."

  "Very well. You'll be in Room 312."

  The clerk was reaching for a room key on the board behind him when a hand fell softly on Longarm's sleeve and a husky voice said, "You are a very lucky man, m'sieu."

  Longarm looked over at the woman who had spoken to him, and saw that she had a black domino mask surrounded by precious stones held in front of her eyes.

  That didn't make much difference. He didn't have to see her face to know that she was one of the most beautiful women he had encountered in a long time.

  CHAPTER 3

  "I certainly am a lucky man," Longarm murmured as he looked at the woman. "Fortunate because I've just made your acquaintance, have I not, my dear?"

  "Qui." She held out a hand with slender, graceful fingers, and he took it and bent over it to brush his lips lightly against the back of it. "I am Annie Clement," she said.

  "Custis Parker," he told her. "From St. Louis. And I'm very glad I decided to come down here to New Orleans."

  She was tall and slender, though curved in all the right places, as the expensive gown she wore displayed enticingly. Most of the deeply tanned valley between her breasts was visible, and Longarm gazed openly at her charms. She had thick, honey-colored hair that fell in waves to her shoulders, and her eyes behind the mask were an intriguing green with light-colored flecks in them, reminding Longarm of foam on an open sea. Her lips were full and red and curved in a smile as she slowly lowered the mask so that Longarm could appreciate the full impact of her beauty.

  From the corner of his eye, Longarm saw the hotel clerk lean forward. "Can I help you, Miss Clement?" the clerk asked. Obviously, this lovely young woman was known to him.

  Annie turned her head and smiled at the man. "No, thank you, Jack. This gentleman has already introduced himself to me." She linked her arm with Longarm's. "And now he's going to take me into the salon and buy me a drink."

  "I'd like that just fine," Longarm told her, "but there's just one thing I need to get cleared up first. By any chance are you a, ah, working girl, Miss Clement?"

  Annie laughed lightly at the question, but the desk clerk's eyebrows shot up as he looked scandalized. "Mr. Parker," he said sternly, "the St. Charles does not allow-"

  "It's all right, Jack," said Annie. "M'sieu Parker is a guest in New Orleans and cannot be expected to know everything about our fair city." To Longarm, she said, "No, I'm not a soiled dove, M'sieu Parker, if that's what you thought."

  "Not really," said Longarm, "but I like to make sure how deep the water is before I go diving in head-first."

  "Around here you'll find that the waters are seldom deep... but they can still be treacherous." She steered him toward the arched entrance of the salon. "Now come along with me. Put yourself in my hands."

  "That's a mighty appealing prospect," said Longarm, and the comment drew another laugh from her.

  Behind them, the desk clerk called out, "I'll have your bag taken up to your room, Mr. Parker."

  A waiter in the salon, who clearly knew who Annie was just as the desk clerk had, showed them to a table that was given at least an illusion of privacy by the potted plants that screened it off from the rest of the room. Longarm felt a little as if he had somehow wound up in a jungle. He leaned across the table toward Annie and asked, "What would you like to drink?"

  "Wine would be nice."

  Longarm repeated the order to the hovering waiter, then added, "Maryland rye for me, Tom Moore if you've got it."

  "Indeed we do, sir," said the waiter. "I'll be right back."

  While they waited for the drinks, Annie clasped her hands together in front of her on the table and looked over them at Longarm. "And what brings you to New Orleans, M'sieu Parker? Business... or pleasure?"

  "Ten minutes ago, I would have said business," replied Longarm, "but that was before I met you, ma'am. Now I would have to say that I'm hoping for a combination of the two."

  "How gallant of you. What line of business are you in?"

  "Importing and exporting," said Longarm, trying to convey with his tone of voice that even though she was a beautiful woman, he wasn't quite ready to reveal all of his secrets to her just yet.

  "How interesting. My brother and I export sugar to your country."

  Longarm frowned slightly. "I figured that you lived here in New Orleans. Folks seem to know you pretty well in these parts."

  "Oh, we have a house here," she said. "The Clement mansion, on Chartres Street, not far from here. It has been in the family for over a hundred years. But our real home is on Saint Laurent."

  Longarm shook his head and said, "Don't reckon I've heard of it."

  "It is a small island in the West Indies, where our sugar plantation is located. Paul and I travel here several times each year." A smile lit up Annie's face. "Like you, M'sieu Parker, we attempt to combine business with pleasure."

  "A mighty sensible approach," said Longarm. "Here come our drinks."

  The waiter placed a glass of wine in front of Annie, then gave Longarm a shot of Maryland rye along with a tumbler of water to chase it. Then the waiter withdrew diffidently, and once again Longarm and Annie had at least the semblance of being alone. They clinked their glasses together, and Annie said, "To New Orleans... and all the possibilities it holds."

  "To New Orleans," agreed Longarm. He tossed back the rye, savoring its rich, smoky taste. So far, his trip to the Crescent City had been quite pleasurable.

  But no matter what he had told Annie Clement, he was really here for one reason and one reason alone: to find whoever was responsible for the murder of Douglas Ramsey and bring the killer, or killers, to justice.

  Annie sipped her wine and then said, "I shall have to introduce you to my brother. I'm sure you and Paul would have much in common."

  Longarm wasn't so certain of that, and while this momentary dalliance with Annie had been enjoyable, he didn't want to waste his time meeting some wastrel son of an old, wealthy French family, which was clearly what the Clements were. Still, he didn't want to insult Annie, so he said noncommittally, "That would be nice, but we'll have to see how things work out."

  "I know," she said, brightening even more with the idea that had come to her. "Why don't you come out with us tonight? We are going to dine and then visit a place we know on Gallatin Street where we can gamble. Perhaps you have heard of it--the Brass Pelican?"

  Longarm was starting to shake his head when Annie added, "It is owned by a man named Millard, Jasper Millard."

  Longarm hoped he was able to conceal his surprise. He had heard of Jasper Millard, all right, but certainly not for the same reason that Annie knew the man. Millard's name had been in those reports Longarm had read in Billy Vail's office back in Denver. He was one of the men suspected by the special prosecutor of being involved in the smuggling that was so widespread in the Mississippi Delta.

  Longarm had considered using Millard to pick up the trail of Ramsey's murderer. Now, through happenstance, he had a perfect way into Millard's gambling club, and he would be a fool to pass it up.

  Or was it happenstance? he asked himself abruptly, still controlling the expression on his face as thoughts raced through his head with lightning-fast speed. Was he being set up somehow? Were the smugglers already on to him, already aware of his true identity? Maybe Annie Clement was just the lovely bait in a deadly trap.

  But Longarm didn't think so. He couldn't see how it was possible for any of the criminal element in New Orleans to know who he really was. He had bought his own ticket on the Dixie Belle in St. Louis and paid cash for it, and he'd had no contact with the au
thorities while he was there. As far as anyone on the riverboat knew, he was exactly what he appeared to be, a businessman, just a little bit disreputable, on his way to New Orleans. And during the hour or so that he had been here in the Crescent City, he was certain he hadn't done anything to give himself away.

  Nope, he thought, this was purely a case of serendipity, enjoying the two-bit word he had picked up in his reading at the Denver Public Library near the end of each month when his money was low and his next paycheck was still a few days away.

  "That's mighty kind of you," he said to Annie, "and I'll sure take you up on the invitation. If you're certain your brother won't mind, that is."

  "Paul will not mind." She rolled her eyes a little. "There is nothing he enjoys more than discussing business, so you will have to promise me, M'sieu Parker, that you will not allow him to monopolize your time all evening. There is dancing as well as gambling at the Brass Pelican, and you must dance with me while we are there."

  "I'm looking forward to it," Longarm said, and meant it.

  Annie stood up, and Longarm got hurriedly to his feet to help her with her chair. "We will pick you up in our carriage at seven o'clock," she said.

  "I'll be ready," he promised.

  "Until then, M'sieu Parker... adieu."

  Longarm watched her walk away, and he wasn't the only one. Every man in the salon was admiring the graceful sway of her hips. Longarm didn't allow himself to feel any jealousy; he hadn't known her long enough, or well enough, for that.

  But he had a hunch that before his trip to New Orleans was over, he was going to.

  Longarm went back to the desk to pick up his room key, and while he was there he asked the clerk to have all the local newspapers sent up to his room. The man nodded and said, "Yes, sir, Mr. Parker, I'll take care of that right away." They were eager to please here in New Orleans, thought Longarm as he went upstairs. A purple-jacketed bellboy arrived with the stack of papers a few minutes after Longarm had let himself into Room 312 and found it to be as comfortably appointed as he had expected.

  It was also empty, no hidden gunmen lurking there waiting to murder him. Longarm wasn't really anticipating any trouble this soon, but it never hurt to be careful.

  He spent an hour or so reading through the newspapers, familiarizing himself with what was going on in New Orleans at the present time. As Billy Vail had told him and the reports had verified, there was a strong reform movement under way, its aim to clean up the corruption in city government and shut down the Louisiana State Lottery, which was also riddled with graft and bribery. The lottery, and the men behind it, had so much power that the entire system was referred to by editorialists in anti-lottery papers as "the Golden Octopus." That situation was interesting, but it wasn't what had brought Longarm to New Orleans. He concentrated instead on stories relating to the smuggling, which seemed as widespread as the lottery. He found several stories which mentioned the special prosecutor whose cries for help had brought him here. The man promised in no uncertain terms that the smuggling rings would be broken up and their hold on the Delta country smashed. Longarm snorted as he read the inflammatory quotes. That was just like a politician, he thought, to stir up a mess and then leave it for somebody else to clean up.

  He put the papers aside and went downstairs for a late lunch in the hotel dining room, then returned to his room and slept for several hours. It was likely to be a late night coming up, and Longarm wanted to be well rested.

  He changed his shirt, but was wearing the same suit and hat when he came down to the hotel lobby a little before seven o'clock. There was no sign of Annie Clement or her brother yet, so Longarm wandered over to the desk, where the same clerk was still on duty. Longarm had tipped the man handsomely when he asked for the newspapers to be sent up, so he thought it was probably safe to ask a question or two.

  "You seem to know Miss Clement pretty well," he said to the clerk, as if he was only making idle talk while waiting. "I'm supposed to dine with her and her brother tonight."

  "I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself, Mr. Parker. They're a charming couple." The clerk allowed himself the faintest lift of an eyebrow. "And Miss Clement is undeniably one of the most beautiful women in New Orleans--which is saying a great deal indeed."

  "You won't get any argument from me on either of those points, friend," Longarm assured him. "What's her brother like?"

  The clerk's tone dropped a little and took on a conspiratorial edge. "Well... he's a man with a certain reputation..."

  "As a businessman, you mean," said Longarm, playing dumb. "Miss Clement told me they were sugar exporters."

  "Yessss... but I had more in mind. Mr. Clement's reputation as a gambler. And something of a ladies' man."

  Longarm grinned, stuck an unlit cheroot in his mouth, and said around it, "So he likes the cards and the ladies, eh?"

  "So it's said, sir. I wouldn't really know."

  I'll just bet you wouldn't, thought Longarm. Hotel clerks saw the best and the worst of folks, and they generally knew the truth of the matter about as well as anyone this side of the local law--and sometimes better.

  "Wonder what Miss Clement was doing here earlier today," Longarm mused aloud. "She said she and her brother have a house here in town."

  "Oh, she comes here often," said the clerk, "to have a drink or to dine with us or simply to visit friends that might be stopping here."

  Longarm grinned again. "So it was just good fortune that she and I met. Hope that luck stays with me. Miss Clement promised they'd take me to a gambling club called the Brass Pelican. Said it was over on Gallatin Street."

  The clerk's eyes widened slightly, and Longarm saw that his shot in the dark had hit something. "You should be careful over there, Mr. Parker," cautioned the clerk. "The Brass Pelican is known for its rather, ah, notorious clientele. All of the establishments on Gallatin Street are sometimes frequented by, ah, undesirables."

  That didn't come as any surprise to Longarm since Jasper Millard, the owner of the place, was known to have connections with the smuggling rings that operated along the bayous. He said, "I can take care of myself... and some folks have sort of figured I'm a mite notorious and undesirable myself."

  He chuckled, and the clerk joined in uneasily. Longarm wanted to be known as someone who might skirt the law on occasion, and he figured he had just reinforced that image in the clerk's mind. Now, if the right people believed the same thing about him, he might be on his way to discovering what he had come to New Orleans to find out.

  At that moment, the doors of the hotel opened and Annie Clement came in, followed by a tall, thin man in evening clothes, a cape, and a top hat. Annie was gorgeous in a shimmery, dark gray gown trimmed with white fur, and her face lit up with a smile as she saw Longarm. She held out both hands as she came toward him, and he took them and squeezed warmly.

  "M'sieu Parker, how wonderful to see you again," she said. "I want you to meet my brother. Paul, this is M'sieu Parker, who is visiting New Orleans from St. Louis."

  "Custis Parker," Longarm said, introducing himself as he shook hands with Paul Clement.

  The Frenchman had a dark, narrow face that seemed to fall naturally into sardonic, half-amused lines. He was clean-shaven and had dark, curly hair under the top hat. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, M'sieu Parker," he said. "My dear sister has told me so much about you, I find it difficult to believe that the two of you met only today."

  "It's the truth," said Longarm. "Miss Annie here was the first one to really welcome me to New Orleans. I'm grateful to her for making me feel at home--and for inviting me along with the two of you tonight. I hope I'm not being an imposition."

  Clement waved a hand languidly. "Of course not! We're perfectly happy to have you accompany us. As I believe Anme told you, we don't actually live here in the city either, so I suppose we're all visitors in New Orleans." He added, "We know it quite well, though."

  "I'm glad of that," Longarm told him. "I'm relying on the two of you to be my guides."


  "Come along, then, Custis," Annie said, calling him by his given name for the first time as she linked her arm with his. "The night is young, but there is much to see and do."

  The three of them went out of the hotel. An elegant black carriage waited at the curb. It had gilt trim and a couple of oil lamps attached to its roof, and six fine black horses were hitched to it. A driver in fancy livery handled the team from the high seat in the front of the vehicle. This was a far cry from some of the mud wagons and Concord stagecoaches he had ridden out West, thought Longarm. For the time being, he was really living high on the hog.

  Paul Clement opened the carriage door for his sister, then stood back and gestured for Longarm to board next. Annie patted the upholstered bench next to her. Longarm hesitated for a second, then took the seat. Clement climbed in and settled himself on the opposite bench, so that he would be riding facing backward. He didn't seem to mind.

  As the carriage began rolling through the streets of New Orleans, Clement said, "Darling Annie tells me you are an importer and exporter, M'sieu Parker."

  "I dabble in a little of this and a little of that," Longarm said vaguely. "To tell you the truth, I'm sort of between enterprises right now. I was told that this was a good town for a man wanting to make a fresh start."

  "True, there are boundless opportunities... if a man knows what he wants and is prepared to do whatever is necessary in order to obtain it."

  It was shadowy inside the carriage, but Longarm had a feeling Clement was watching him closely. He said coolly, "I've always had a pretty good idea where the road was leading me."

  "All roads ultimately lead to the same place, do they not? I speak, of course, of the grave."

  Annie said, "That's enough, Paul. I made M'sieu Parker promise that you and he would not spend the entire evening talking business, and I will not allow your morbid philosophy to take over either." She slipped her hand inside Longarm's and leaned closer to him. "I think you will like the restaurant we have selected, Custis. It has the finest food in New Orleans."