Crescent City (An Alec Winters Series Book 1)

by Chariss K. Walker

  “I’m not just a hard-core reporter anymore, Bright. I’d like to keep communications open with those families. After what happened to me, I feel a connection.”

  “You’re hedging. The evening you were attacked, you went to see Latisha Miller and you returned to visit her after leaving the LaCour residence. Her statement said something big threw her assailant several yards and onto a dumpster. Why are you so fascinated by this?” Bright continued to quiz.

  “I guess because I’m ‘fascinated,’ as you said.”

  “Don’t get pissy with me. I have a right to ask. I have good reason to be worried,” he replied quickly.

  “Thank you.”

  “I get it. You think it’s strange and unusual and you’re investigating anything that can’t be explained, am I right?” Bright asked. He was nobody’s fool.

  “Yes, that’s true too.”

  “Why? Why do you care?” he asked while his eyebrows rose sharply.

  “Because, it can’t be explained by regular police work. I know you noticed that ‘something big’ also threw one of my attackers against a brick building so hard it crushed him. And, something very strong gutted the other man who threatened to gut me. Don’t you find any of that curious? Let me ask that a different way…did you ever find those kinds of witness statements curious?”

  “Maybe…but Vivien, there are too many homicides to investigate in Nawlins. I can’t allow myself to get sidetracked by the fanciful stuff. Would I like to believe that angels go around punishing evil men? Yeah, of course, if it got the bad guys off the street, I could use the help. On the other hand, I wanted Santa Clause to be real too, but he wasn’t. I have to stick to the facts,” Bright explained the policy he’d adopted over the years of his career.

  “I’m lucky then that I don’t have to adhere to that reasoning. I can’t help it, Bright; I’m drawn to those kinds of fanciful things…stories…events. It’s who I am and part of the reason you wanted me here.”

  “Listen, I’ve known other police officers within this very department who got caught up in that maze too…and it usually doesn’t end well,” he cautioned. “It’s easy to get lost in a labyrinth like that.”

  “I’m not a police officer.”

  “That’s true, but you are part of my team,” he said.

  “I truly appreciate that compliment and the concern.”

  “Look, Vivien; let me explain why I’m trying to caution you about this. When I first came to work here, I was fresh out of college and then the academy. As a new recruit, I was assigned to a burned-out, old detective named Abel Boudreaux. He trained me, but more importantly, he taught me by his example what not to do. He was a great detective, but he was also a hard-headed bastard enthralled by a case nearly eight years old at that time. He couldn’t put it out of his mind and it ruined his career. When we weren’t working a current case, he theorized and rationalized every waking minute. It got to the point where his ramblings made me want to puke…,” Bright began before she interrupted.

  “Tell me about the case, please.”

  “No. I won’t tell you…because it’s too similar to the case in Jackson Square,” he replied harshly.

  “You know that I’ll go digging through the records until I find it even if it’s a quarter-century old.”

  Bright tried to stare her down, but he had a soft spot for the little ex-reporter. He’d known she would eventually find it before he brought it up. In his own way, he was dropping breadcrumbs even while he felt the need to protect her. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt the desire to help and caution her at the same time. He struggled with that for a few moments before giving her the background.

  “Well, it involved a local man out on Carrollton Street. The son caught his father raping his little sister. The boy went ballistic and killed the bastard. But that old, determined detective couldn’t let it go. He didn’t believe the boy did it. DeVry, the officer that caught the case, thought it was open and shut. It wasn’t Boudreaux’s job to poke his nose around in another officer’s case, but he interviewed the son and the daughter involved several times. All Boudreaux ended up doing was turning the case into a pissing-contest with DeVry.”

  “How so?”

  “It became one detective against another and, in a small department like this, that’s never good. People had to choose sides and it made Boudreaux appear more than a little nuts. Almost everyone agreed with DeVry,” Bright admitted.

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what?” he asked, deflecting the question, although he knew exactly what she meant. Vivien ignored his sidestepping and went on with other questions while he was in a talkative mood.

  “Tell me more about the case, please.”

  “The son insisted that his father died of a heart attack and was hallucinating and praying like he’d lost his mind…,” Bright began before Vivien interrupted again.

  “What did the coroner’s report say?”

  “It stated the cause of death was a heart attack, but here’s the rub…the determining factor wasn’t clarified. In other words, any number of things could have caused his heart to fail…age, obesity, alcohol, the son’s choking. Nothing could be ruled out and that left the blame on the son without a conclusive COD. It seemed like the rest of the evidence was against the son. Neighbors heard them fighting and the boy readily admitted he’d choked his father. The daughter claimed an angel had saved her from her daddy’s sexual abuse and punished him. That her daddy died of fright when facing his mortality,” Bright explained what he remembered.

  “What happened next?”

  “It went to trial and during the course of things, the daughter confessed to murdering her father. She wasn’t as big as a minute, but she claimed that God gave her the strength to do it. The son was released and, if I’m not mistaken, the girl is still in a mental hospital,” he finished the story.

  “That’s pretty sad that the boy got blamed when it could have been any one of several reasons.”

  “The coroner’s report was enough to cause reasonable doubt and he might’ve gotten off altogether. But, hell-no! The sister screamed out a confession in court, in front of God and everyone present, that she killed him,” Bright said heatedly. It was obvious he was irritated about the outcome.

  “Like I said, that’s a pretty sad result when he was only trying to help and protect his sister.”

  “The point I’m trying to make here is that the old detective nearly drove himself and everyone else crazy trying to find out if anything like that had ever happened before. You know, searching for reports of mysterious cases that had no real explanation. Now, I see you doing that same damn thing ever since you heard the little girl’s statement in Jackson Square…and it worries me,” Bright explained, looking down at his desk several times in an attempt to hide his true concerns.

  He was overly troubled and worried about her, especially after the attack that could’ve easily ended her life. But, it was more than that…he felt affectionate and warm toward Vivien Simon in general and he wasn’t sure if it was brotherly love, departmental camaraderie, or something more. Although he was a handsome man in his late thirties, Bright had never married. He didn’t find many people interesting enough to give more than a cursory glance. Now, he found himself glancing at his newest recruit often…and he liked everything he saw, especially her spunky, direct, and determined attitude.

  “And, you say that this happened over twenty years ago?”

  “Yes, the murder was a while back. Let’s see, I’ve been on the force for fifteen years and the case was eight years old at that time,” Bright confirmed, giving her the tidbits needed to follow the lead. The fact that he still remembered the case in nearly vivid detail after such a long time wasn’t lost on Vivien. Either the case itself or Boudreaux’s fascination with it had made an impression on the man.

  “You’re afraid that I’m going down the rabbit hole.”

  “Yes, I am,” he replied, instantly appreciating her directness once ag
ain, “and I don’t want the others on our team to start calling you ‘Alice.’ It’s bad enough that they refer to you as a mole.” He stopped long enough for a small chuckle before he continued. Vivien noticed that it changed his appearance instantly from rugged and craggy to handsome. His gray eyes sparkled and white teeth flashed against an even, tan complexion. “It’s dangerous for you to be out there investigating without back up. With that in mind, I want you to go through firearms training and get certified to carry. I already set that up so check with Deters; he’ll get you squared away. I also want you to keep me informed so there’s someone available to pull you back before you meet the Mad Hatter or go to any tea-parties, ok?”

  “And, you’ll pull me back if I get too far gone?”

  “I will,” Bright avowed speaking quietly, but with conviction.

  “I appreciate that…you know, knowing that you’re there for me if I get too close to that slippery slope.”

  She finally smiled at him and he returned the smile. “He really should smile more often,” she silently mused, “it changes his entire appearance immediately.”

  Chapter 26

  The city was still and quiet with no murders reported in their district that week. When she wasn’t at the firearms range or taking a class about deadly-force practices, Vivien spent the time in the records room, diligently digging through old, musty files to find the one Bright had referenced. It had been misplaced, probably by the other detective, but she finally found it. She studied the reports and then paid the two detectives a visit.

  The first one, Rodney DeVry, had thought it was open and shut then and he didn’t offer much even now. To him, it was still a slam-dunk and he clung to that assessment stubbornly. She got the impression that it remained a contest for him and it was the only reason he still remembered it. He explained that he’d caught the son practically red-handed and, on top of that, the boy admitted he’d choked his father.

  Vivien got a better picture from the second detective, Abel Boudreaux. Bright had described him as ‘burned-out and determined.’ She wondered briefly how the lieutenant would describe her. Detective Boudreaux was retired now and spent his days sitting in the sun drinking ice-cold beer. When it grew warm, he stuck it back in an ice chest and opened another one, alternating between the two.

  Vivien joined him outside to have a chat. He seemed well-adjusted to retirement and, unlike the way Bright had described him, he was relaxed and easy to talk to. Perhaps, he’d mellowed over the years, while her boss still held an image of him from many years ago.

  “I’m Vivien Simon. I work with Lieutenant Albright at District Eight. I’m sort of a consultant.”

  “You’re his ‘new eyes,’” Boudreaux replied and then chuckled. At her look of surprise, he continued cordially, “I still hear things from the department, Miss Simon. I remember Bright. I was his TO. He had the makings of a remarkable detective and, from what I hear, he is. Even though he sticks to a code of only hearing the facts, he’s good at his job. How can I help you Miss Simon?”

  “The Winters case that you investigated on your own about twenty-three years ago…do you remember it?” she asked.

  “Like it was yesterday,” Boudreaux said, after taking another sip of beer.

  “Why did it stay with you then and after all this time?” Vivien continued.

  “I can’t rightly say. It just felt wrong, right here,” he said as he placed his hand on his heart for emphasis. “It felt wrong for the kid to get the blame. I never thought he did it. There was something pure about him and his little sister.”

  “What do you mean?” Vivien asked softly.

  “Have you ever looked into the eyes of someone who was pure evil, Miss Simon?”

  “Yes, I have,” she replied, vividly recalling the eyes of both Jake and Randy during the attack. She knew instinctively they were evil. The two men had scared her in the deepest part of her soul. They would have toyed with her first, like a cat playing with a mouse, and then murdered her…if the angel hadn’t stopped them.

  “Then, you should understand what I’m about to say next. When you see into the eyes of an evil person, you know and can feel that they’re capable of just about anything. When you look into the eyes of purity, you can see and feel that they wouldn’t do those same things. People are instinctively uncomfortable around the former kind of person and usually give them a wide berth. And, likewise, they trust and relax around the latter kind.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Detective Boudreaux. When you looked into the son’s eyes, what did you see?” she asked.

  “I saw a young man capable of greatness, not murder. I saw a brother willing to protect his sister from a drunken father. I saw that his intention was merely to stop Buck Winters, not kill him. I believed then, as I do now, that Buck Winters died of a fright-attack exactly as his son described it. It made sense to me after hearing everything the young man said and looking at the evidence. If you read the coroner’s report, it didn’t mention the frozen look of horror on Buck’s face, but I went to the morgue and saw it for myself. The man was terrified and died in that state. When people are that frightened, they usually piss themselves. Buck did that too, but that wasn’t in the report either. DeVry argued that Buck was drunk and drunks often piss themselves.”

  “Coroner Davis is very adept at taking those kinds of things into account….” Vivien began, but Boudreaux held up his hand.

  “Before his time, Miss Simon…way before his time. I think he came on around the same time Bright did, but it might have been a couple of years earlier,” he explained.

  “What did you see in the sister’s eyes? Was it Catalina? What did you see in Catalina’s eyes?” Vivien asked after she looked at the folder to get the name correct.

  “I saw an innocent…A small child that had been harmed and was grateful for protection. She told me time and again that an angel came to protect her. She described this being as pure light and love with white wings. She sketched his picture again and again, showing it to anyone who would take the time to look. She told me that she’d prayed for God’s help and He sent His angel to protect her.”

  “And, you believed her,” Vivien confirmed gently.

  “I did and I still do. Did you see the picture she drew in the file?”

  “No…I didn’t find a photo or drawing. Was it of the angel she saw?” Vivien asked excitedly.

  “Yes, I put it in the file myself.”

  “The file was misplaced and it took me a while to find it, but I’ve looked through all the evidence and there weren’t any drawings,” Vivien said softly, considering the reasons it wasn’t there.

  “DeVry must’ve removed it. He laughed at me the hardest. I thought it was evidence and he said it was ‘the ramblings and imagination of an insane child.’ She drew a lot of them. I only took one for the file.”

  “I’d love to see it,” Vivien added wistfully.

  “Now that I’ve answered your questions, will you answer one for me?”

  “Of course, if I can…,” Vivien responded hesitantly.

  “Is it true that another child has said the same thing? That God sent an angel to protect her from an abusive step-father?”

  “Yes, it’s true. That very story is what led me to you and this case in a round-about way. I’ve been tracking down any and all witnesses that have made similar statements or comments, as well as the cases that can’t be explained,” Vivien replied with complete honesty.

  “I’d love to hear about it, but be careful, Miss Simon. That was my same goal and my downfall. The department made my life miserable, calling me all kinds of demented and crazy. In general, most cops don’t pay attention to the ‘fluff’ of a witness’s statement. To them, it’s cut and dry. The course you’ve chosen isn’t an easy path; in fact, it was a living hell for me. I took early retirement to get away from the constant ragging, criticism, and booby-traps. Other officers were hell-bent to sabotage any information I gathered…sort of like the picture dis
appearing from the file. I finally had enough.”

  “Well, I’m committed now, especially after my own story of salvation by a being of light,” Vivien replied. A wide grin spread across her face as she realized that she was in the company of another ‘believer.’ She thought she’d get along fine with Boudreaux.

  At Boudreaux’s look of surprise, she filled him in on the details of her own attack, as well as, the cases she’d already investigated. They spent the afternoon talking and discussing the similarities and discoveries. Boudreaux listened attentively and nodded often.

  “Will you come again, Miss Simon?”

  “Please, Detective Boudreaux, call me Vivien, and yes, I will keep you up to date on the progress I make. You have keen insight and might think of something I don’t,” she promised.

  “Just call me Boudreaux and I have to admit that I look forward to it.”

  Chapter 27

  Alec had barely missed a beat after the injury suffered and was back to following his passion. As he walked through the French Quarter that night, he was drawn toward a swirling devious energy at a pub on North Front Boulevard. The spiraling pattern indicated something disgusting and nasty was underway.

  The bar was close enough to Jax Brewery to be considered a reputable place and was crowded with a fashionably-dressed college crowd. There, he noticed a young male, Geno, in his early twenties. His aura was a dirty brown and flared wildly, grabbing and holding Alec’s attention. Unobserved, he studied the young man for some time. His aura had once been green, but each act of violence Geno promulgated had added the additional color of red. Now, the ugly brown had become his signature; he no longer resembled the college kid he’d once been. He’d become something dangerous; a predator stalking his next victim.