by E. A. Copen
“Oh, you must be the young man who saved my girls.” She put the watering can down and patted the thug with a delicate hand. He uncrossed his arms and stepped aside as she waved me up the stairs. “Please, do come in. Have some lemonade or sweet tea if you prefer.”
“Actually, if you have something warm, I’d appreciate it.”
She held the front door for me. I almost didn’t step inside, afraid I’d mess something up. The entry was a flawless display of cherry wood. Mirrors lined the hall flanking wide open doorways, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. I paused to run fingers through my hair, and she linked her arm in mine, practically dragging me into the house.
Another pair of suits stood in the entry on either side, unmoving. “A lot of security. You expecting trouble?”
“Oh, a woman in my position can’t be too careful, especially with all that’s happening in this city.” She guided me forward before I could object. “The detectives told me what you did,” she said. “That woman detective told me not to let you in, but how am I supposed to resist? After all, my girls owe you their lives. The least I could do is entertain you for an afternoon, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kerrigan?”
“Uh, I guess so.”
She’d given me some useful information already. Detectives Knight and Moses had already been there to talk to her, which meant they probably already knew more than me. Guess that’s what I got for sleeping in.
Halfway through the foyer, she made a left turn, and we stepped up two steps into another layer of the house, going through another wide doorway into what I suppose you’d call a sitting room. At least, that’s what I called it in my head, since that seemed like all there was to do in there. Velvet-cushioned couches sat in a square directly in front of a Tiffany fireplace. Vesta led me to one of the couches and sat down next to me, all without letting go of my arm.
Another muscular guy in a suit closed a set of French doors, blocking the hallway from view, and stood in front of them, hands folded.
Vesta waved him off. “That will be all, thank you.”
The thug inclined his head and stepped back through the doors he’d just closed, probably guarding on the other side.
As we sat, Vesta picked up a silver bell and rang it. A pretty young woman in a plain blue dress stepped in from the next room, her hair in a formal updo.
“Bring us some tea, will you, Julia darling? Oh, and Mr. Kerrigan would like some coffee. How do you take your coffee?”
“However, as long as it’s warm.”
Vesta smiled and waved the young woman off. Her fingers tightened around my hand. “You’re freezing! Are you ill?”
“No, ma’am. Just got a low body temp. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you about the young women from the house. How are they?”
“Oh, they’re lovely,” she gushed. “Minor scrapes and bruises. After they were released from the hospital, I had my chauffeur take them upstate for a little rest and relaxation. This damp air wouldn’t do.” She squeezed my arm.
I pulled away, uncomfortable. “What kind of relationship do you have with them? I mean, it’s probably none of my business, but the damaged building was listed as a halfway house. So you’re what? Their counselor? Benefactor?”
Vesta sat up straighter, the smile finally fading. “Well, that’s a little difficult, maybe even a little personal. I can’t give you specifics, but I help young women who’ve lost hope re-discover their virtue.”
I considered that, matching it up with what I knew about Brandi. The halfway house had been her last known address, meaning Vesta was helping Brandi. Angel had said Brandi intended to quit, that she’d discovered religion. Something new age. Maybe this was what she meant.
“Did you know Brandi Lavelle?” I asked.
Vesta frowned, clasping her hands in front of her and redirecting her gaze to the floor. “Yes, I heard about what happened to her. Terrible. Brandi was making such progress. But I told the police everything I knew. Why are you asking about her?”
“Well, they found her on the doorstep of my shop. I’ve sort of been helping the police look into things. In an unofficial capacity.” When she raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth as if to question my explanation, I added, “Detective Knight isn’t really supposed to let me, which is why she probably told you to send me packing. Department will chew her out if she gets caught, you know?”
“Oh, right.” She pressed a finger to her pursed lips. “Mum’s the word, then. How thrilling. I love secrets.”
I fought to keep from cringing. Bubbly people who got excited over the smallest details rubbed me wrong. I didn’t trust her, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. When she’d wrapped her fingers around my wrist, I didn’t sense any magic emanating from her, or any spells buzzing around her. As far as my senses could tell, she was as mundane as Detective Knight.
The pretty maid returned balancing a silver tray on one hand. On it was a sweating glass of iced tea complete with a lemon wedge. Next to that, my coffee in a spotless white mug. Between the two cups was a small pitcher and a little bowl full of sugar cubes. Spoons rattled slightly as she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of us.
“Will there be anything else, Ms. Hogarth?”
“No, no, dear. This will do fine.”
The maid inclined her head and scurried away.
I picked up the coffee, which was pleasantly dark, and inhaled the bitter scent, letting it warm my nose. It was hot enough it burned my tongue at the first sip, which was an oddly welcome reprieve from the chill of the grave still in my bones.
“Brandi was a good girl,” Vesta said, taking her tea and playing with the lemon between two fingers. “Sad story, really. She had a lot of money problems and not a lot of options, so she turned to selling her body on a stage for all those gawkers. I hope you don’t frequent such places, Mr. Kerrigan.” She peered at me over the lip of her cup as she took a sip.
I shifted uncomfortably. “How did you and Brandi meet?”
“Same way I’ve found all my girls. I send the girls out once a month or so with a stack of fliers, and they tack them to windshields on street corners and around the gentlemen’s clubs in the Quarter.” She placed her tea on a coaster on the coffee table. “They call the number, and we arrange to meet somewhere public first. Can’t be too careful these days, and I don’t want the girls to feel pressured. We talked for a bit, Brandi and me. She wasn’t ready to make a commitment at first but seemed open to the idea. We kept in contact, and when she was ready, I set her up with a place to live and arranged for her to work for me. Most of these girls just don’t have any other skills. I help them get work experience to strike out on their own.”
I frowned. Angel said Brandi was still performing at Karma, which meant she hadn’t really left her old life behind. Yet, if she was living at Vesta’s halfway house, she was reaping all the benefits of Vesta’s patronage without having to pay the cost. It could’ve been a motive for murder, but I couldn’t see Vesta as a murderer. First of all, I hadn’t seen anything to suggest she was capable of crushing someone to death, no magic and no charms. Brandi had been killed on the spot where she was found, and nothing heavy had been found on top of her. That meant whoever killed her had access to a lot of magic. Black magic. If anyone in New Orleans was suited for sniffing out dark curses, it was me, and so far, Vesta was in the clear.
I put my coffee mug on the table. “Ms. Hogarth, were you aware of Brandi’s employment at Karma?”
Vesta quickly swept up the mug and deposited it on top of a coaster. “Please, call me Vesta. And of course I was. When I made contact with Brandi, she was working there, but we made arrangements. She left her employment there two months ago to accept a job cleaning houses.”
“What do you do if one of your girls wants to leave your service?” I asked. “Or if they fall back into their old ways? Is there some kind of remedial program?”
She turned her lips downward in a deep frown and folded her hands. “If any of
my girls ever wanted to go back to their old lives, there would be nothing I could do to stop them. I certainly wouldn’t try to. That’s not my place. I can only help those who wish to be helped. Secondary virginity is a gift, and all the girls who come into the program are well aware of the benefits it provides. No one has ever wanted to leave.” She heaved a heavy sigh that moved her shoulders. “Unfortunately, they do backslide into old habits every once in a while. Some girls can’t help themselves. They get addicted to the attention and, despite my best efforts to provide them with a more positive source of it, it just isn’t enough. If that happens, there are no hard feelings, but I can’t allow the offending young woman to stay here and receive my support. If I allowed it, the other girls might backslide as well. You understand.”
I nodded, though I didn’t fully grasp what she was saying. The way she spoke about her little program did make it sound like some sort of cult. No wonder Angel had thought Brandi found religion.
Vesta didn’t seem to have any inkling that Brandi had fallen back into her old habits and gone back to work at Karma, though.
“Brandi had a lot of money problems, didn’t she, Vesta? I ran a credit report on her yesterday.”
Vesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Credit report?”
I nodded. “I tell fortunes for a living. One of the easiest ways to do that is to pull a credit report on someone. After I started helping the police, I figured it might be worthwhile to look into Brandi’s past. Is there any chance she owed money to the wrong people? Maybe one of them decided it was time to collect.”
She put her fingers to her lips as if the very thought sickened her. “Oh, dear! I hope not. One of the benefits of our program is that I help all the girls with their expenses. Brandi was enrolled in a debt consolidation program at my urging to prevent this sort of thing. As far as I know, Brandi was still participating in that program. Perhaps it doesn’t show on the credit report.”
I glanced around the room, taking in the finery. Everything looked perfect. I hadn’t seen anyone come or go except for the maid and the suits in her private army. Given half the chance, I would’ve loved to have a look around the house, but I figured Knight had already tried to get a warrant and failed. Legal means of snooping wouldn’t pan out. And if her goons caught me snooping, I’d be shown the door.
Guess I could always try getting directions to the bathroom. Might be able to give the goons the slip. That cover will work better if I can chug the coffee. I picked up the mug and gulped down more hot liquid. “So, forgive me for asking, but the terminology you’ve used has me wondering. Are you connected to some kind of religious institution or are the girls required to attend services or counseling somewhere? A church maybe?”
Vesta drew her lips into a line. “Why would you ask that? A person can still be good and virtuous without getting the church involved.”
I shrugged. “Just that when I talked to one of Brandi’s former co-workers, she seemed to think Brandi had found religion. She mentioned something new age, so not necessarily a church. Looking around though, I don’t see any signs of new age practices here. Doesn’t even look like you own a yoga mat.”
She chuckled and stood, smoothing her hands over her midsection in such a way as to emphasize her curves. “Oh, I promise you I get my workouts. But no, I don’t require the girls to be involved in any church. So far, the topic has never come up.”
She moved behind the sofa and leaned on the back of it right next to me, so close her breath tickled my ear and sent chills down my spine. Her fingers curled around some of my unbrushed hair and she tucked it behind my ear. “You know, I’ve been considering extending my program to the lost young men of New Orleans. There are plenty of handsome men who could be enjoying the benefits of secondary virginity. That empty, hurt, and broken feeling from a relationship that just doesn’t work out, all those lonely nights wasted in the arms of someone who can’t truly return your affection. Hurts when they leave you. Might even make you angry. Imagine how freeing it would be if you could forget that.”
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes at her. “No offense, but I don’t buy this born-again virgin crap. Honestly, virginity itself is more of a social construct. It’s not a useful word.”
“Spoken like a true progressive democratic feminist.” She sighed and leaned on one arm. “Or like someone who’s never truly been hurt. Maybe it isn’t the same for men. I suppose it must be easier to think like that, to dismiss the possibility that you’re no longer pure.”
I set the coffee cup on the table hard enough that some of the liquid sloshed over onto the fine wood. “I think we’re done here,” I said, standing.
Vesta straightened, her eyes widening. “Did I make you uncomfortable? That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted you to understand where I was coming from.”
“I understand just fine. I’ll see myself out.”
I took a step forward and hesitated, eying the two doorways. Neither looked familiar. Which one had we come through? “Er…Which way?”
Vesta pointed to the doorway on the right, and I marched through it without thanking her, through the foyer and back out the front door. Normally, I don’t let things like that get under my skin, but the judgment she was throwing around in there bugged the hell out of me. Brandi was dead, and all Vesta’s sympathy felt fake. She was more interested in pushing her agenda than finding Brandi’s killer. Even if her intentions were admirable, her methods weren’t.
I imagined her talking to her girls, guilting them into leaving behind their lives to work for her. She got cheap labor and a pat on the back while those girls got practically nothing for their efforts, not even proper counseling. Now, one of them was dead, and Vesta had hardly batted an eye.
Her hand lowered over mine as I moved to jerk the door shut and I turned to find Vesta behind me, concern etched in the corners of her mouth and eyes.
“One more thing,” I said, my tone rough. “Where’d you send those girls? I’d like to talk to them, just to make sure they’re doing fine.”
The lines in her complexion deepened. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you exactly where they are. It’s for their own safety. You understand. After the fire yesterday, the news, the police, everyone would be hounding them. I promised them a life of privacy, and I intend to live up to that promise. As I told your detective friend, you’re welcome to get a warrant if you’d like. That’s the only way I’m willing to tell you more.”
Not exactly encouraging, I thought, raising my eyes to the stairs behind her. Guess I wasn’t getting a chance to search the house.
I tipped an imaginary hat to Vesta. “Have a nice day, Ms. Hogarth,” I said, and bounded down the walk.
Chapter Ten
The metal gate complained when I pushed it open and stormed through it. It slammed shut behind me, and I paused, rooting my feet firmly to the ground at the sight of Detective Knight leaning against the passenger door of my car. She stood with her arms crossed, a scowl plastered on her features.
Her partner, Detective Moses, had busied himself completing a scratch-off, leaning against the trunk. He looked up as the gate slammed and grinned, glancing at Knight as if to say, “You’re about to get it now.”
“What was it I said would happen to you if you interfered with the investigation again?” Knight shoved off the car with her hip and stopped in front of me.
I had about a foot of height on her, but she barely seemed to notice. She looked at me like she could take me down with her little finger, and I didn’t doubt for a second she could actually do it.
“You guys are in over your heads.” I gestured widely back toward the mansion I’d just left. “Whoever killed Brandi used magic. Unless you’ve got some kind of anti-magic charm or power I don’t know about, you’ve got no chance of taking this person down.”
Knight’s hands moved to her hips, which threw her jacket wide, revealing the .45 at her hip and the gleaming badge. “I ought to lock you up on principle. It’s dangerous for a private c
itizen to get involved in this kind of thing.” She held up a hand to stop me when I started to repeat my concerns about her ability to deal with magic. “And you can quit with the false concern and the magic act. Whatever you say is behind this, my department doesn’t recognize magic as a cause of death. I’m trying to do my job. You’re getting in the way of that.”
“Me? You’re the one who told her not to talk to me! She might’ve actually given me something if you hadn’t gotten here first.”
“I missed the part where that’s my problem.”
I clenched my fists. “You know what?”
There wasn’t time for me to tell her before the cell phone clipped to Knight’s belt chirped and dispatch cut through the stifling afternoon air. She raised a finger and answered, turning away.
“Rude,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
Moses came around from behind the car, his hands jammed into the brown dress slacks he wore. “She’s a real pill, ain’t she?”
I watched her pacing a few feet away, one hand on her hip, the top of her cell phone pushing a handful of her black, spring-like curls out of place. “Pretty sure she could scold a bank robber into putting back his sack of cash.”
He chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth? But let me tell you, Lazarus, she’s right. This isn’t the kind of thing you should go getting mixed up in. Let us do our jobs, huh? Lives are at stake.”
“No offense, but you saw. I’m not bullshitting you guys. You’re chasing down someone way out of your league.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “And you think you can take down whoever’s doing this?”
Good point. I wasn’t a wizard of the highest order. At best, I could raise the dead, but that was only if I had a ton of prep time and all the right ingredients. In an all-out fight, I wasn’t a match for a bulldog, let alone some heavyweight who could crush women to death. Maybe I’d stand a chance if they didn’t see me coming, but that was as good as I could hope for. Still, if I wasn’t a match, Detectives Knight and Moses were even worse off.