Assassination at Bayou Sauvage

by D. J. Donaldson

  “Let me see what you picked up toward the river end of the street first,” Gatlin said. “Play it forward starting at 10:45.”

  Boyd stared at the recorders helplessly for a few seconds. “Hell, I don’t remember how to work these things.”

  “They’re the same make and model we use at the farm,” Teddy said. “I can do it.”

  Everyone stepped aside so Teddy could reach the equipment.

  He punched a few buttons on the recorder that matched the appropriate monitor, and that screen went blank. He hit another button and the image came back, now showing the requested time in the upper right corner.

  “Can you fast forward it now?” Gatlin asked.

  Teddy hit yet another button and the people on the street and the traffic began to move faster. In the corner of the monitor the time sped by:10:46 . . . 10:49 . . . 10:54 . . . 11:05 . . .

  “Normal speed,” Gatlin said. “That’s Remy leaving.”

  There had apparently been no place for Remy to park his truck nearby, so they all watched him walk down the block. This event was interesting only because it established the time that his father had been left alone.

  “Okay, speed up again,” Gatlin said.

  For the next few minutes, they all watched nothing of interest happen in quick time. Then far down the street a dark figure came into view. “Normal speed,” Gatlin said.

  Over the next few seconds, they saw someone wearing a Guy Fawks mask and what looked like a long raincoat head for the courtyard door.

  Chapter 38

  Just before going into the courtyard, the miscreant who had obviously killed Zach LeBlanc looked across the street and gave someone out of frame a thumbs up.

  “He had a spotter,” Kit said. “To let him know when Zach would be alone. And I bet they had one this morning too when I went jogging.”

  “Looks like retribution for Zach helping you,” Gatlin said. “But murder is a big step up from assault. When I talk to the guy who was harassing you, the stakes are now gonna be a lot higher.” Then, to Teddy, he said, “Let’s see how long he was in there . . . fast time.”

  They all watched the monitor until the man in the mask reappeared.

  “Now normal time.”

  The killer walked back the way he’d come, not running, just moving at a steady, purposeful pace. Everybody watched the monitor until the killer moved out of camera range.

  “We need a copy of what we just saw,” Gatlin said. “Anybody got a flash drive?”

  Teddy reached in his pocket. “I do.”

  “You know how to . . .”

  “Won’t take but a minute or two.”

  “This guy we just saw couldn’t have come from nowhere,” Broussard said. “We should be able to use all the surveillance cameras in the area to track him back to where he first hit the street.”

  “That’s what we need to do,” Gatlin replied. “And try to find out where he went after the murder. But it’s gonna be a big job.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kit said.

  Gatlin shook his head. “You’re in no shape to do anything.”

  “When you came to see me this morning you both said you felt responsible for what happened to me in Pirates Alley. Now I feel that way about Zach’s death.”

  “You wouldn’t let us take responsibility for you,” Broussard said. “Now you want to do it for Zach?”

  “Okay, I’m inconsistent. But I won’t have to do it alone. Teddy can help.”

  She looked at Teddy, who said, “I’m in.”

  “Look, you all can stay here as long as you like,” Boyd said, “But I’m going back out front and open up again for business, if that’s all right.”

  Gatlin waved him away. “Go ahead.”

  Nolen left and shut the door behind him.

  “If you feel up to checking those cameras, do it,” Gatlin said. “But you need to know some things first.”

  Then Broussard’s phone rang. “I’ll take this outside.”

  While Broussard was on his way out, Gatlin said, “None of the cameras in the Quarter belong to the NOPD. The city couldn’t afford to buy its own system. So they’re all private. That means there’s no central facility where you can tap into the footage from any of them. Most of the owners have registered them with the department and given us contact information in case we want copies of anything they’ve recorded. I can give you access to the database of contact information, but you’ll have to talk to each camera owner and find out for yourself if their cameras saw anything useful.”

  He took out his little black book, scribbled something in it, then tore out the page and gave it to Kit. “That’ll take you to the contact file.”

  “I’ve got the copy of what we just saw,” Teddy said, holding up his flash drive.

  “Put the system back on real time and let’s get out of here,” Gatlin said.

  Outside, Broussard approached the group. “I gotta get back to the morgue. I called our transport service and they’re on the way. When they get him loaded, just send him on. See y’all later.”

  As Broussard started walking toward the passage out of the courtyard, the group saw Remy LeBlanc approaching. “My mother needs to know what happened,” he said to Gatlin. “So I’m heading out to tell her.”

  “You okay to drive?” Gatlin asked.

  “I have to be, don’t I?”

  “I guess so. Could you give me your mother’s phone number and address?”

  Remy nodded and recited the requested information. Gatlin scribbled it in his book then said, “Yours too. And the phone number and location of the shop.”

  When that was all recorded, Gatlin said, “You go on now and see your mother. Again, I’m real sorry for all this.” After a few seconds of watching Remy shuffle toward the exit, He looked at Teddy. “That video copy you just made, I’ll get it from you later. Now you two better get started checking those other cameras.”

  “We’re on it,” Kit said.

  While Kit and Teddy went back to Kit’s apartment, Gatlin took a last look around the scene.

  Earlier, when they’d all watched the video replay of the killer’s approach to the courtyard gate, he was already on Toulouse when they first saw him. As he’d retreated back down Toulouse, the camera lost him before he reached Royal Street. So as Broussard and Gatlin had pointed out, they didn’t know where he came from or where he went. Kit and Teddy arbitrarily decided that their survey should include the next block of Toulouse beyond the Royal Street intersection as well as one block in each direction on Royal.

  The camera registration database would tell them the address of places that had cameras. But they didn’t know the street numbers on the buildings included in their survey. So after Teddy made a quick sketch of their target area, Kit logged onto the street view function of Google maps and helped him put addresses at strategic points on his sketch.

  Now they were ready for business.

  Locating the registration address of the closest cameras to those on Nolen’s shop, Kit picked up her cell phone then looked at Teddy. “We don’t want copies of a lot of video footage that’s useless. And I don’t want to go and personally review footage to decide if it is pertinent.”

  “Just tell whoever answers that we’re looking for any footage that shows a guy dressed like our killer. Give them the time frame and see if they’re willing to review the records themselves and let us know if they see him.”

  “That should work.”

  Teddy now became pessimistic. “If we can count on camera owners to cooperate.”

  “They already agreed by signing up for the registry.”

  “People don’t always honor their promises.”

  “Next you’ll be telling me copper bracelets don’t cure arthritis.”

  Not surprisingly, only about half the registry phone numbers they called were answered by an actual person. Of those, most agreed to check their footage ASAP. But then Kit and Teddy sat there with no return calls for more than 30 minutes.


  At 2:34, they got their first response. Kit put her phone on speaker so Teddy could hear. “Detective Franklyn speaking.”

  “I’m the owner of the cameras at 709 Toulouse,” a female voice said. “My system saw your subject come onto Toulouse from the St. Peter direction of Royal Street at 11:28. Then at 11:37, he came back and turned onto Royal in the same direction he originally came from.”

  Teddy put a plus mark on his sketch at the caller’s approximate location, then added an arrow that curved onto Royal.

  “Thanks, that’s very helpful.”

  “What did this person do?”

  Kit hesitated a moment, trying to decide if she should disclose the truth. Concluding that it couldn’t do any harm, she said, “He’s wanted for murder.”

  “Is there a reward for information like I just gave you?”

  “Only the knowledge that you’ve been a good citizen.”

  “When you were a kid, ever get a box of cracker jacks that didn’t have a prize in it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Lucky you.” Then the caller hung up.

  “She sounded nice,” Kit said to Teddy.

  Six minutes later, they got another call, this time from an address half a block down Royal in the wrong direction. Naturally, those cameras had seen nothing useful.

  The next call came from a Toulouse address nearer the intersection with Royal than the previous caller. One of that caller’s cameras had also seen the killer turn onto Royal. Teddy put that camera on his sketch.

  Feeling as though the two Tylenols she’d taken earlier were wearing off, Kit went into the bathroom and swallowed another.

  There ensued a quiet interval that lasted so long, Kit took the opportunity to sit down, close her eyes, and relax. Teddy got on the floor and began to play with Fletcher, who was delighted with the attention. Finally, when both of them grew tired of their game, Teddy stood up, checked his watch and looked at Kit. “Are you hungry?”

  “I little,” Kit said. “We could go over to Bunny’s and get something.”

  “Let’s do that, right after I take Fletcher out for a nature break.”

  Five minutes later, with Fletcher safely back in the apartment, Kit got another response just as she and Teddy stepped onto Toulouse. This caller was a male. “That guy you’re lookin’ for, my cameras spotted him gettin’ out of a yellow cab on Royal at 11:25. Then he came back and got in another yellow cab at 11:40.”

  “Could you see the number on either of those cabs?” Kit asked.

  “Hold on.”

  Apparently the guy was looking at the footage again. After a few minutes he said, “Sorry, no number on either of ‘em.”

  “Would you mind if we came over and watched the footage ourselves?”

  “I’ve got somethin’ else I have to do. How long would it take you to get here?”

  “We’re in the area now. What’s your address?”

  “Must have been a gypsy cab both times,” Gatlin said.

  “That’s what we thought too,” Kit said into her phone. She and Teddy had just finished reviewing the videos from the last caller’s cameras and they were now standing at the corner of Toulouse and Royal with Gatlin on speakerphone.

  “And you couldn’t see even a couple numbers on either cab’s plates?” Gatlin asked.

  “Sorry, no. Could we put out a plea on TV for whoever picked the guy up to contact us?”

  “Not likely someone operating an illegal cab will want to call any attention to himself. Find any cameras that showed who the killer was signaling to across the street when he first arrived?”

  “I checked that, but there aren’t any in the right spot. How about the guy I caught at my gate . . . Interviewed him yet?”

  “We’re waiting for his lawyer to arrive. Look, you’ve done enough for today. We’ll talk again tomorrow. By the way, there’s going be a memorial service at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow for Uncle Joe at that big Catholic church on St. Charles. I think we ought to go to support Andy . . . and his uncle. But it’s up to you.”

  As they continued on their way to Bunny’s Bar and Grill, Teddy said, “What do you think about that memorial service – going, I mean.”

  “Don’t see how I can refuse, not that I’d ever do that.”

  “I agree. We should go.”

  A few minutes later, as they were about to step through Bunny’s front door, Kit got another call. She forgot to put this one on speakerphone, so Teddy could only wonder about who it was.

  The call didn’t last long and when it was finished, Kit said, “That was something I need to tell Andy about. The jukebox inside is always so loud, it’ll be easier to do it out here. Go ahead and get us a table and I’ll be right there.”

  While Teddy took her suggestion, Kit navigated to Broussard’s number and punched the call button.

  In the medical examiner’s office, Broussard looked over the autopsy report on Zach Leblanc one more time. Convinced that it was complete, he signed off on it and leaned back in his chair, wishing he had a catfish po’boy or a bowl of Grandma O’s jambalaya. And he’d already had a big lunch. But until he’d solved the puzzle of all the dead Broussards, no amount of food would satisfy him. It wasn’t just the elusive identity of the killer that was forcing his skullduggery neurons into overdrive. It was also motive.

  Despite that Deuteronomy reference Karpas made, it was hard to believe he could have been so angry at Joe for firing him that killing Joe wouldn’t have been enough. And if it was Kapas, why the condom in Julien’s mouth? That sort of fit with the Deuteronomy connection but it didn’t feel right. Then there was Deleon. Whoever killed Betty was obviously furious at her, but her death appeared to be a spur of the moment action arising from something that happened after she got in that car at the dollar store. She had apparently rejected DeLeon’s attentions on at least two occasions. So yes, he could have been furious at her. But why would she get in a car with him? That suggests it was someone else she provoked. For what reason? As for Lewis, even if he did kill Joe and Julien, he had no motive whatever to go after Betty or her parents. And then today . . . Zach LeBlanc. He wasn’t even part of the lineage from Joe to Betty. But he did have Broussard blood in his veins.

  The old pathologist’s stomach rumbled like a storm rolling in over Lake Pontchartrain. Should he even be cluttering the big picture with LeBlanc? No. They’d seen his killer . . . part of that weird bunch that was harassing Kit. He reached for a lemon ball in the big bowl of unwrapped ones on his desk, then, realizing that a little candy like that, or even two of them wouldn’t stop the noise in his stomach, he pushed his chair back, intending to go down to the vending machine in the basement and get something more substantial.

  But before he could stand up, his cell phone rang, a call from Kit.

  He punched the button and accepted the call. “Detective Franklyn . . . Hope you’re about to say you know where to find Zach LeBlanc’s killer.”

  “Hit a dead end I’m afraid. He got away in a gypsy cab. I wanted to tell you about a call I just got from Dee Evans, Betty Bergeron’s apartment mate. She was straightening up Betty’s room and knocked off Betty’s big desk calendar. Under it was a Post-It with the name, Belle Broussard, on it. Mean anything to you?”

  Broussard felt his brain take a deep breath. “It’s a family name from long ago . . . someone who died young, shortly before I was born.”

  “Who was it?”

  “My sister.”

  Chapter 39

  “She died when she was seven,” Broussard said to Gatlin, relaying by phone what Kit had just told him. “I wasn’t born until two years later. So I didn’t know her. My parents never spoke much about her, but they did say she was killed in a traffic accident . . . apparently a truck hit her while she was ridin’ her bicycle. Other than my parents, the only relatives I can think of who were around when she was alive were Uncle Joe and his wife, Anne. I wonder if Betty got my sister’s name from Joe.”

  “When I was talking to J
oe’s bodyguard I asked him about any recent visitors Joe might have had,” Gatlin responded. “And he said, two weeks before Joe was killed, a pretty young blonde woman came to the house. Said she was a relative named Elizabeth.”

  “I’ll bet that was her. But what was the point of their conversation?”

  “Afraid you’re gonna have to figure that one out yourself. I gotta get back to my interview with the guy Kit caught at her gate.”

  “You haven’t broken him yet?”

  “Hard to use a rubber hose on somebody when their lawyer is standing right there.”

  After that call, Broussard sat for a moment, wondering who he could call that would be able to talk to him about his sister and answer the questions he now had about her. Before he came up with any likely names, his phone rang again.

  Glancing at the caller ID, he flinched. This could be uncomfortable. “Hello Amelia.”

  “You didn’t have time to call and tell me about Julien? I can’t believe you would treat me like that.”

  “You’re right. But believe me it wasn’t because I was tryin’ to ignore you, it was because all my thoughts have been directed toward helpin’ Julien or at least as much as I can now . . . and Joe, and Betty, and Betty’s parents.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone, then Amelia said, “I can’t believe what I just said to you. I am so sorry.”

  “Forget it. We’re all under a lot of stress.”

  “So many of our family members . . . Dead . . . What’s happening Andy?”

  “Wish I knew.” This would have been a good time to tell her about Zach LeBlanc, but he just didn’t feel like getting into a discussion about that, especially since it appeared to be unrelated to the other deaths. He wanted now to focus only on finding the solution to this mess. And he was suddenly convinced that the key was his sister. “Amelia, do you know anything about the circumstances of my sister’s death?”

  “Your sister . . . I wasn’t even born when that happened.”

  “Did Joe ever talk about it?”