Longarm and the Voodoo Queen

by Tabor Evans

  The blonde glanced at Longarm, shrugged, and nodded. Clearly, the fact that Claudette was his friend didn't really mean anything to her, but she would do whatever Millard told her.

  "Come on, honey," she said to Claudette. "I'll take care of YOU."

  Claudette stood up, smiled nervously at Longarm and Millard, and followed Tessie upstairs. Millard turned to Longarm and asked, "Satisfied, Parker?"

  "I reckon we'll see," said Longarm.

  Tessie came back downstairs a little later and told Longarm and Millard, "This is going to take a while. I've got her soaking in a hot tub, and she doesn't act like she wants to get out. I think this might be the first real bath she's ever had!"

  Longarm figured that was possible. Since it was still fairly early and the crowd in the club was still small, he said to Millard, "I think I'll go get a bite to eat, if that's all right with you, Boss?"

  Millard waved a hand. "Sure, go ahead. Just don't get lost. If Annie Clement's in here tonight, I don't want her spending the whole evening asking me where you are."

  Longarm grinned ruefully at the thought of Annie and Claudette being in the same place at the same time. That was a definite likelihood. He might be wise to keep them apart as much as possible.

  As if reading Longarm's mind, Millard chuckled and said, "Didn't think of that when you asked me to hire her, did you?"

  "Well, to be honest, no," admitted Longarm. "But I reckon I'll just have to make the best of it now. I'll worry about it after supper."

  He left the club, but he wasn't looking for something to eat. Instead, he headed for the docks. That notebook he had discovered in Millard's desk earlier in the day still bothered him. Or rather, not the notebook itself, but the information he had found written down in it. He was still intensely curious about those ships that had left New Orleans bound for Saint Laurent.

  Gallatin Street was only a block away from the river, but the levee area was around the great curve of the Mississippi that gave New Orleans its nickname of the Crescent City. Where Canal Street met the waterfront was the hub of the shipping industry. Longarm spent the next hour roaming through the area. Ships were docked two and three deep at the wharves. Loading and unloading began before dawn and went on by torchlight until well after midnight. From the north came the riverboats with their tall smokestacks and their paddle wheels. The goods they brought downriver were transferred onto tall-masted sailing ships that would ply the waters of the Gulf and then head across the Atlantic to Europe. Likewise, the cargoes they brought on their return voyages were loaded onto the steamships and carried back up the mighty Mississippi. It was a thriving trade, with merchandise of every conceivable kind passing through this port.

  At the moment, however, Longarm was interested only in the ships that had sailed for Saint Laurent, so he asked around until someone pointed him toward a burly black stevedore who reminded him somewhat uncomfortably of the man Longarm had been forced to kill the night before.

  "Howdy," Longarm said to the man, who was taking a break after loading some crates onto a riverboat.

  Immediately, the man looked suspiciously at him and said, "What you want, Boss?" He had the lilting accent of the West Indies in his voice.

  Longarm shook his head. "I ain't nobody's boss. I'm just looking for a little information."

  "I don' know nothin' 'bout nothin'," the dockworker said flatly.

  "I'm told you were around a few days ago when some ships left here bound for an island called Saint Laurent. The ships were the Erasmus, the Bonneville-"

  "I know de ships you talkin' 'bout. Dey belong to Mr. Millard. I done worked on dem before."

  Longarm was surprised the man admitted so easily that the ships belonged to Millard. He asked, "Did you load them this time?"

  "No, Boss," the man said with a fervent shake of his head. "Mr. Millard's men, dey load dem ships, tell us to stay away from 'em."

  Longarm frowned. "So there was cargo on the ships when they sailed, but none of the regular dockworkers loaded it?"

  "No, Boss. Dey load dem ships in de middle o' de night, so nobody aroun'. Why you wanna know 'bout dis'? You a lawman?"

  That guess hit way too close to home. Longarm laughed harshly, then declared, "Not hardly. I'm just a fella who's got an interest in what Millard does."

  The dockworker stood up quickly and began to move away. "You jus' leave me outta dis, Boss," he said, sounding frightened now. "Don' wan' nothin' t' do with dat Royale. You white folks jus' keeps your troubles to yourselves."

  "Wait a minute-"

  But the man wouldn't listen to Longarm. He hurried away, casting nervous glances over his shoulder as he did so.

  Well, at least he had learned a few things, Longarm told himself. The ships had definitely been carrying cargo when they left New Orleans bound for Saint Laurent, but that cargo was a secret and had been taken on board under cover of night by Millard's own men, rather than the usual dockworkers.

  Word of the intensifying conflict between Millard and Royale had reached the docks too. In fact, the man Longarm had just been talking to had taken him for an agent of Royale's. Longarm hoped that suspicion didn't get back to Millard's ears any time soon. Millard already seemed to trust him a little less after the incident in the office.

  Longarm stopped and got a quick bite to eat on his way back to the gambling club. The streets were growing fuller. In fact, the crowds were building to a downright throng. With a frown, Longarm stopped and thought about what day it was, then closed his eyes and winced.

  It was Fat Tuesday. Mardi Gras. Tonight would be the busiest night of the year in New Orleans, complete with the traditional parade with showy, elaborate floats put together by the krewes, the societies devoted to such activities. The celebration would go on until dawn, at least. What a night for Claudette to start working at the Brass Pelican.

  Longarm shook his head and moved on, grinning at the costumed people who were beginning to appear on the streets. He saw men masquerading as devils, pirates, wild Indians, and clowns. Women seemed to prefer more sedate costumes. Many of them were made up to look like Marie Antoinette, complete with beauty spots, powdered wigs, and gowns cut so low that often the upper rings of their nipples were visible. It was already a spectacle, and would be more so before the night was over.

  When he reached the club, practically the first thing he saw was Claudette. She was wearing a blue gown that went well with her hair and eyes, and glittery earrings dangled from her ears. Her hair was piled atop her head in an elaborate arrangement of curls that made her look much more sophisticated than the simple bayou girl he had met a couple of days earlier. It was a little difficult to believe that she was the same person.

  But as she saw him and came hurrying toward him, smiling broadly, he had no trouble recognizing her. She practically threw herself into his arms and hugged him.

  "Oh, Custis, these clothes, she is so nice I never dream I wear such a thing, me," she exclaimed. "Thank you, thank you so much."

  "You're welcome," Longarm told her. "If this is what you really want, Claudette, then I'm glad I could help you get it. You sure gave me a hand." He lowered his voice. "Speaking of that, you didn't say anything to Mr. Millard about how you helped me get away from those old boys the other day, did you?"

  She shook her head, her smile disappearing to be replaced by a solemn expression. "This I did not do yet, Custis. You don't want Mr. Millard to know about it?"

  "I'd just as soon we kept it between us. Not because I ain't grateful to you or anything, because I am, but-"

  She shook her head and put a fingertip on his lips. "Don't say any more, you. You got your reasons, and I don't need to know 'em."

  "That's mighty understanding of you."

  She came up on her tiptoes, and instead of her finger, she brushed his lips with hers. "I do just about anything for you, Custis, no questions, no explanation. I guarantee."

  Longarm slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, giving her a proper kiss
. Claudette's body melded against his. This was a mighty public place for such an embrace, thought Longarm, but he didn't rightly care. Besides, a man and a woman hugging and kissing was probably downright normal compared to some of the things that went on here from time to time, he speculated. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them.

  Then he heard the voice right behind'him saying, "Well, well, what have we here?" He froze as he realized it belonged to Paul Clement.

  And wherever Paul was, Longarm thought as he stifled a groan, Annie was usually right with him.

  CHAPTER 11

  For a second, Longarm was afraid to turn around. He expected to hear Annie's voice lashing at him, demanding to know who in the hell Claudette was and just why she was in his arms with his lips pressed to hers.

  But when Annie's voice didn't come, Longarm glanced over his shoulder and saw that Clement was standing there alone, the smile on his face even more mocking than usual. He walked slowly around them, and his gaze was frankly admiring as he looked at Claudette. "Hello," he said. "I don't believe we've met."

  "This is Claudette," said Longarm. "She's a good friend of mine."

  "Yes," Clement said dryly, "I could tell."

  "Claudette, this is Monsieur Paul Clement."

  Clement took Claudette's hand, bent over it, and kissed it as Millard had done. Claudette said, "Honored to meet you, M'sieu Clement, I surely am." She was almost glowing from all the masculine attention that was being paid to her today, and as he looked at the radiant expression on her face, Longarm thought that maybe getting her a job here hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

  Cautiously, Longarm asked Clement, "Where's your sister?"

  "Annie will be along shortly. She wanted her costume for tonight to be perfect."

  "Costume?" repeated Longarm. Clement was wearing his normal evening clothes.

  "Yes, this is Mardi Gras, remember?" Clement reached into his pocket, brought out a piece of black silk, and unfolded it to reveal that it was a mask. He placed it over his eyes and tied the strings attached to it behind his head. "The whole thing is a bit silly, I know, but one can't argue with tradition, can one?"

  "I've heard of Mardi Gras," said Claudette, "but I didn't know it was tonight."

  "Well, then, you're in for a treat, mademoiselle," Clement said as he moved smoothly alongside Claudette and slipped his arm through hers. "If you'll be so kind as to keep me company while I'm trying my luck at the blackjack table, I'll tell you all about it."

  Claudette glanced at Longarm, and he gave a barely perceptible nod to let her know that it was all right with him for her to go with Clement. He didn't have any hold over her, and the sooner she understood that, the better, especially if she wanted to work here at the Brass Pelican.

  As Clement and Claudette moved off toward the blackjack table, Clement tossed a look over his shoulder at Longarm, who nodded to him in gratitude. Annie would be here soon, thought Longarm, and it would be better all around if Claudette was distracted. Clement had proven surprisingly understanding about the matter.

  Sure enough, not ten more minutes had gone by when Annie appeared, pausing just inside the doorway of the club to look around for Longarm. He happened to be looking in that direction when she came in, and although he didn't recognize her at first, as soon as his eyes met hers he knew her.

  She was wearing a gypsy costume, with an embroidered white blouse that left both shoulders bare and a neckline that plunged low enough to reveal practically all of the creamy valley between her breasts. A bright red skirt, also decorated with embroidery, swirled around her ankles. Golden hoop earrings and a wig with curls as black as midnight completed the costume. She was wearing a mask too, like her brother.

  Her face assumed a coy expression as Longarm approached her. "Would you like to have your fortune told?" she asked over the music and laughter that filled the room. Even raised so that he could hear, her voice seemed to contain a purr.

  Longarm extended his hand toward her. "Sure. Just don't tell me I'm going to meet a beautiful woman, 'cause I already have."

  She took his right hand in her left, then used the index finger of her right hand to trace the lines on his palm. Her long, red-painted nail dug almost painfully into his skin. "You will meet many beautiful women, but only one is right for you. If you ignore her, you will be in much danger."

  Longarm chuckled. "I reckon I'd better pay a lot of attention to her then." He reached up and cupped her chin, tilting her head back so that he could bring his mouth down on hers.

  He sure hoped Paul Clement was keeping Claudette occupied.

  For the second time in less than a half hour, he was kissing a beautiful woman and molding the soft warmth of her body against his as he drew her into an embrace. A different woman, at that. All the hazards of his life as a federal lawman didn't quite measure up to that, he thought wryly. He was really living dangerously now.

  "Come on," he said to Annie as he broke the kiss. "I'll buy you a drink."

  Annie nodded. "But not too many drinks tonight," she said. "I want you to take me home tonight, Custis."

  "If I can," promised Longarm. How the night ended up, though, really depended on Millard, and Royale, and even Claudette.

  Longarm stayed close by Annie as the long evening began to roll by. The club was too crowded and noisy to do much more than sit at a table, try to carry on a conversation in half-shouts, and hope that they didn't get trampled by the mob. Worry gnawed at the back of Longarm's brain. As packed in as the customers were tonight, anything that went wrong could easily turn into a catastrophe. It was a perfect opportunity for Royale to strike again at Millard.

  But despite the crowd and the noise, the night's festivities went fairly peacefully. A few men got a little boisterous from too much to drink, but Millard's bouncers handled them with ease. Millard came over to the table while Annie had gone to use the facilities, which were indoors rather than out back of the building, a luxury Longarm hadn't expected to find in a place like the Brass Pelican. With a nod to Longarm, Millard sat down and said, "I was halfway expecting trouble tonight."

  "You and me both, Boss," Longarm told him. "I reckon Royale must be celebrating Mardi Gras like everybody else."

  "Let's hope so."

  Claudette swept over to the table then, followed by Paul Clement. She was laughing brightly at something Clement had said. "Custis!" she greeted Longarm, and from the level of her merriment, he figured she had been sipping on a few drinks this evening. "Paul, he is going to take me to watch the Mardi Gras parade. Why don't you and his sister come with us?"

  Longarm swallowed hard. "Sister?" he repeated.

  "Oh, don't worry, Custis," said Clement. "I told Claudette how kind you've been to my poor maiden sister, paying attention to her while we're here in New Orleans."

  Longarm took back what he had thought earlier about Clement being understanding. He was a damn rabble-rouser! But there was nothing Longarm could do now except plunge ahead and be thankful that Claudette seemed to be in a good mood.

  "Sure," Longarm said. "I don't reckon I've ever seen a Mardi Gras parade, so I wouldn't mind at all." He looked at Millard. "If it's all right with you, Boss."

  "Go ahead," Millard said with a wave of his hand. "Like you said, Royale's probably celebrating tonight too. He might even be at the parade. Who knows?"

  Claudette looked at Longarm. "Who is this Royale, Custis? Another of your lady-friends, maybe?"

  "Not hardly," Longarm replied vehemently. "Just a... business associate, I suppose you could say. Nothing for you to worry about."

  Clement looked across the room and said, "Here comes Annie now."

  It took a few minutes for Annie to make her way through the crowd. Even in the press of people, Longarm had no trouble spotting her in that colorful outfit. As she came up to the table, he stood and reached out to take her hand. "We're going out to watch the Mardi Gras parade, if that's all right with you," he said.

  "Of course. I'd like that." Annie
looked at Claudette and went on. "I don't believe we've met."

  Clement began, "She's a friend of-"

  "A friend of your brother, me," Claudette cut in. She put out her hand and shook with Annie. "Claudette, that is my name."

  "What a pretty name," said Annie. "And that gown and those earrings are beautiful. You and Paul are coming to the parade too, aren't you?"

  "Of course. I would not miss my first Mardi Gras parade."

  Longarm tried not to heave a sigh of relief. Claudette was really helping him out. Most women would have been spitting jealous, but she was going out of her way to keep the peace with Annie for tonight. He would have to thank her later if he got the chance. And he hoped that Paul Clement's big grin didn't tip off Annie that something more was going on than was readily apparent.

  With Annie on his arm and Claudette being accompanied by Clement, Longarm shouldered his way through the crowd and led the little group to the door. As they stepped out onto Gallatin Street, the press of people around them lessened slightly, but the sidewalks and the cobblestone street itself were still unusually crowded. All the street lamps had been lit, and light flooded out through open doors and windows so that the revelers could see what they were doing. Everywhere, purple and green and gold--the official colors of Mardi Gras--were dominant, and hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of voices were singing the anthem of Mardi Gras, "If Ever I Cease to Love." Longarm found himself humming along with the tune as he and his companions made their way through the throng.

  "Come on," Annie cried merrily as she tugged on Longarm's hand. "The parade is on St. Charles Avenue."

  That seemed to be the direction the crowd was flowing, all right, thought Longarm. He was glad he wasn't trying to go the other way. It would be like trying to swim upstream against a strong current.

  Claudette and Paul Clement were still talking animatedly. Longarm knew it was unreasonable, considering the way he had felt earlier, but now he was the one who was a mite jealous. Obviously, Claudette had been telling the truth: It wasn't so much seeing him again that had brought her to New Orleans. It was an honest desire to try something new in her life--an attempt to leave the bayous behind her. Longarm wished her the best of luck in the effort.