That Old Devil Moon

by Anne Logan

  Maddie held up her hand to interrupt him. “Please don’t. I’d still like to see for myself.”

  The detective slowly shook his head. “That’s not really necessary, and for your sake I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Maddie wondered how she could explain something she didn’t understand herself. Alex Batiste’s profession made him deal in logic and facts. He could never understand someone like her, someone who relied on emotion and feelings, who always held out hope even under the most impossible circumstances.

  “You’re probably right,” she finally conceded. “But—” she raised her chin in defiance “—I still want to see for myself.”

  WHILE MADDIE, still looking a bit pale and shaken from the landing, made her way toward the baggage-claim area, Alex stopped at a pay phone, inserted a quarter and quickly punched out a telephone number. The call was picked up on the second ring, and Alex smiled, glad his daughter had answered instead of his ex-wife.

  “Carla, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know that I’m back in town.”

  “Great! So how was Nashville?” And typically Carla, she didn’t wait for an answer but rushed ahead. “Did you see any stars? Jeez, I wish I could have gone with you. I’d love to tour some real recording studios, and—”

  “Carla…can I get a word in edgewise here? And you know why you couldn’t go with me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but the guy was handcuffed, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he was handcuffed, but policy is policy. And we’ve already been through this.” At least a hundred times, he thought, remembering how she had badgered him to let her go with him. “Besides,” he continued, “I just called to let you know I’m back and I wanted to see how you and your mother are getting along.”

  There was a long silence then she sighed. “The same as always,” she answered sullenly. “She’s always on my case about something—”

  “Carla-”

  “No, really, Daddy, she never lets up. Nothing I do satisfies her. I wish she was leaving today. I wish she— Hey, the other line’s beeping, so I’ll catch you later.”

  When he heard the click indicating she’d hung up, Alex shook his head and took a deep breath. Four more days, he thought as he hurried through the airport. Just four more days until Carla came to stay with him.

  In the meantime, Maddie was still trying to get a grip on her nerves from the landing as she waited for her luggage to roll by on the conveyor belt. She finally spied her suitcase, and when it moved closer, she grabbed it.

  “Here.” Alex took the suitcase from her. “Let me carry that.”

  She had expected that once they arrived, she and Alex would part, since he had not checked any baggage. So it had been a surprise and a bit of a relief when he had told her he needed to make a call, but he would meet her afterward in the baggage-claim area.

  He tilted his head toward the exit doors. “Since we both have to go into the city, we might as well share a cab.”

  Again surprised, Maddie fell in step beside him and together they walked through a set of electronic glass doors. The moment she stepped outside, Maddie gasped as the humid, hot air enveloped her like a blanket. Michael had complained countless times about the heat and humidity of south Louisiana, but the reality was beyond description, she decided.

  Maddie turned toward Alex who was signaling toward a long line of waiting cabs. “I really do appreciate all you’ve done,” she said. “And I hate to impose on you, but once we get to the city, I’m not sure where to go.” Or what I should do first, she added silently. “Exactly how far are we from downtown?”

  At that moment, a cab pulled up, its tires screeching on the concrete. The driver hopped out and hurried around to the trunk.

  “About fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on traffic,” Alex answered as he handed over their luggage to the cabbie who carelessly tossed the suitcase and duffel bag into the trunk and slammed it shut.

  Once inside the cab, the driver glanced over his shoulder. “Whereto, folks?”

  Alex turned and gave Maddie a steadying look. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Maddie didn’t have to ask what he meant. What she wanted or didn’t want was irrelevant. She only knew she had to see for herself if the man who had been identified as Michael Johnson truly was her brother. “I have to,” she whispered.

  For several seconds, Alex continued staring at her. Then with a sigh of resignation, he nodded at the driver. “City morgue.”

  The driver looked startled. “Huh?”

  “The New Orleans Criminal Courts Building on Tulane and Broad,” Alex explained. “You can drop us on the South White Street side.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know where it is.” The driver shook his head then pulled out into an opening in the steady stream of traffic. “Jeez, just what I need,” he muttered. “A cop.”

  Maddie frowned. “How did he know that?”

  Alex shrugged. “Very few people, other than police go in and out on the South White Street side.”

  For the first ten minutes or so, traffic on the interstate flowed smoothly through the suburb of Kenner then Metairie. As the taxi approached an intersection where the interstate split into two directions, the cars heading toward the New Orleans business district suddenly slowed to a crawl until they were bumper-tobumper.

  Stretched out beyond the interstate, as far as Maddie could see, the city of New Orleans sprawled in every direction. The sky was overcast, giving the scene a dismal gray appearance. In the middle of the sprawl was a cluster of high-rise buildings.

  Ominous clouds like dark sentinels hovered above the skyscrapers as if to serve as a warning to all who would dare enter the city. As traffic finally picked up speed, Maddie stared at the clouds and felt a chill creeping up her spine.

  “Over there is the Superdome.” Alex pointed to her right as the cab sped down an exit ramp. “Do you like football?”

  Maddie shook her head. “Not especially, but Michael does—” The moment the words left her mouth, she instantly realized her mistake. Emptiness washed through her, and she closed her eyes for a second. “Michael did,” she corrected in a reedy voice. “He had season tickets.”

  They reached the Criminal Courts Building a short while later. Alex gave the cabdriver instructions to wait. Maddie didn’t envy the man’s having to sit in the oppressive, stifling heat. Maddie and Alex went inside and climbed the stairs to the second story where the New Orleans coroner’s office was located.

  When they stepped inside the office, a small group of men were huddled around a desk. They turned to see who had entered and then resumed their conversation. Except for one, a tall, slim man with sandy blond hair, who separated himself, and with a broad grin on his face, approached them.

  “Hey, Alex, when did you get back?”

  Alex glanced at the man, then held out an open palm toward Maddie. “Madeline Johnson, I want you to meet Jack Moore, an old friend who also happens to be chief investigator for the coroner’s office.” He paused, then said, “She wants to see her brother.”

  For long seconds, the two men stared at each other. Then looking a bit pale and more than a little uncomfortable, the other man finally nodded. “You know where to go.”

  Alex nodded. “We’ll also need the keys to her brother’s apartment.”

  The chief investigator hesitated only a moment. “Yes, of course,” he said.

  A few minutes later, he handed Alex a set of keys which were attached to a tag. “Ms. Johnson, I’ll need your signature here.” He held out a clipboard and pen and indicated a blank line on a form clipped to the board. With a trembling hand, Maddie scrawled her name.

  Jack tucked the clipboard underneath his arm, but his steady gaze never left Alex. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Yes, we will,” Alex answered emphatically. And without another word, Alex placed his hand at the small of Maddie’s back and nudged her toward the door.

  As they walked down a set of stairs, Maddie felt her heart pound harder
and her legs grow weaker with each step. By the time they reached the basement, a sick, queasy feeling was fast growing in the pit of her stomach.

  The ordeal was worse than she had imagined. There had been no mistake. The face of the man shrouded in the black bag was her brother. Maddie had no idea how she had found the strength or presence of mind to walk out of the horrid room, but as she stood in the dismal hallway, her stomach rose into her throat and threatened to choke her.

  Hugging her arms tightly around her waist, she swallowed as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Michael,” she whispered in a strangled, grief-stricken voice. Never before in her life, not even when her mother had died, had Maddie felt so completely and so utterly alone in the world.

  “Come on, Maddie,” Alex said softly, placing a strong, comforting arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Let’s get out of here.” He gave her a minute then gently but firmly ushered her down the hallway.

  Later, as the cab weaved in and out of downtown traffic through the narrow streets, Maddie kept her eyes closed. The only thing she was aware of was the quiet strength and solid presence of Alex Batiste. She clung to the image as if doing so would wipe out the other, unbearable one of her brother lying cold and lifeless in the building they’d just left.

  When Alex offered to go with her to make funeral arrangements, Maddie accepted gratefully. She didn’t question his directions to the cabdriver, who took them to an apartment complex where they switched to Alex’s car. Nothing around her seemed to register. Numb and exhausted, she couldn’t shake the lethargy that consumed her.

  Even at the funeral home, she felt as if she were caught up in a living, breathing nightmare, and although she knew that she was allowing a virtual stranger to make decisions for her, she couldn’t dredge up the strength to take control.

  And in that darkest hour, somewhere deep within her, Maddie knew she would forever be grateful for Alex Batiste’s steady, no-nonsense guidance and support.

  “Here we are.”

  With Alex’s quiet words, Maddie glanced up to find that they were parked on a narrow street edged with two- and three-storied, ancient buildings. Intricate wrought iron decorated and lined many of the second-story balconies.

  This was where Michael had lived, she thought as she stepped out of Alex’s car. “So this is the French Quarter,” she murmured.

  Alex didn’t comment, knowing that an answer wasn’t required as he locked the car, retrieved her luggage from the trunk and walked around to where she stood. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here… alone?”

  Maddie wasn’t sure, but enough was enough, she’d decided. It was past time for her to stop imposing on Alex’s generosity. She was sure he had better things to do than baby-sit some grieving woman that he barely knew. He probably had a wife, maybe even a family, waiting for him.

  When Maddie straightened and squared her shoulders in an attempt to appear in control, Alex tried to tamp down the anxiety he suddenly felt at leaving her alone. He didn’t understand why he felt so protective of this woman. Only two women in his life—his mother and his daughter—elicited this kind of response from him.

  “I’ll be fine,” Maddie answered.

  Alex didn’t argue. Hell, he thought, she had to face things sooner or later. Anyway, he told himself, she was not his responsibility. She would be okay, he reassured himself. Madeline Johnson was obviously used to being alone and taking care of herself.

  Alex dug the key to the apartment out of his pocket and, once again noting the number written on the tag, he led the way to a nearby doorway.

  Directly inside the dark entrance was another doorway and a dimly lit, narrow stairwell. “Upstairs,” he said, and again he led the way.

  At the top of the stairs was a small landing and a door. When Alex set down the suitcase and tried to insert the key, the door suddenly swung open. He instantly tensed, and alarm bells went off in his head. “Don’t go in—”

  But before he could stop her, Maddie brushed past him and stepped inside.

  “Oh, my God!” she cried.

  Reflexively, Alex grabbed her by the arm, jerked her backward and pushed her behind him. “Wait here,” he commanded then cautiously stepped inside the room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHILE ALEX SEARCHED the apartment, Maddie hovered near the doorway. Minutes dragged by, and every nerve seemed stretched to breaking point as she listened and waited. Was someone still lurking in the apartment, hiding in a dark corner, just waiting to jump Alex? And what would she do if they did?

  Stop it! Alex is a trained policeman, trained to handle such things. But the thought was little comfort as she stood there, straining to hear the least bit of noise.

  “Maddie, you can come in now.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t move. Then, on trembling legs, she stepped through the doorway. When Alex appeared from a back room, the first thing she noticed was that he had put away his gun.

  “Who could have done such a thing?” she asked, unable to control the quiver in her voice. All around her, pieces of furniture were upturned, prints on the wall hung every which way, papers and books were strewn about as if a bomb had gone off in their midst.

  Alex shook his head. “Could have been anyone—a burglar, or junkie looking for valuables to turn into cash—” He paused, frowning in thought. Then as if deciding against whatever he’d been thinking, he shrugged. “There have been a rash of break-ins in this neighborhood lately.”

  Maddie shivered. Then her eyes caught sight of a painting hanging lopsided on the wall directly behind Alex. “Well, they weren’t very smart and definitely weren’t art critics.”

  At Alex’s puzzled look, she pointed to the painting. “It’s a rare print worth about three thousand dollars.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. The only reason I know what it’s worth is because Michael…” The second her brother’s name left her lips, Maddie closed her eyes for a moment. With a sigh, she swallowed the ache in her throat. “Michael was so proud of that particular find he called me and told me all about it in great detail.”

  A look of sympathy flashed on Alex’s face, then it was gone. He walked over to the bar that separated the living area from the kitchen, picked up the phone receiver and punched out a number.

  When Maddie realized that he was calling the police to report the break-in, she gingerly stepped through the rubble and wandered down a short hallway.

  So this was where her brother had spent the past two years, she thought. Where he’d lived, slept, ate and probably even loved.

  She’d always had excuses not to come here. After exhausting tours and days spent traveling, the last thing she had wanted to do was take another trip. Michael had understood, had been good about visiting her instead, so she hadn’t felt the need to come see him.

  She paused at the doorway leading to the bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it, too, had been trashed. The mattress of the double bed was askew and the sheets and comforter had been shoved to one side. Dresser drawers were upended and clothes were scattered about. When she felt something crunch beneath her shoe, Maddie stooped down. Amid shards of broken glass, facedown, was an ornate picture frame. She carefully brushed aside the glass, picked up the frame and turned it over. The picture was an enlarged snapshot of the two of them, taken just before Michael had moved to New Orleans; it was identical to one she kept on her dresser at home.

  In her mind, another image superimposed itself, one of her brother lying so still in death. Maddie clutched the framed picture tightly to her breast, and tears suddenly sprang into her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. Resentment in the form of a slow-building anger burned deep inside her chest. It just wasn’t fair, she railed silently, shaking her head. Michael had been young, vibrant—he’d had his whole life before him. Now that life had been reduced to an empty, vandalized apartment. Worse, his good name was being smeared in the newspapers. Michael Johnson was a name that people would forever remember as belonging t
o a murderer.

  “Maddie?”

  At the sound of Alex’s voice, she opened her eyes and tried to compose herself. With one final look at the photo, she gently set the picture on top of the dresser. “I’m back here,” she called out. Turning, she retraced her steps to the living room.

  When she entered the living room, Alex was hunkered down, sifting through a pile of papers scattered on the floor.

  Alex stood and brushed his hands against his pants legs. “Someone from the department should be here shortly,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any way of knowing exactly what might have been taken.”

  Maddie slowly shook her head. “My brother bought most of this stuff after he moved here.”

  “Yeah, well, I figured as much. That’s too bad.” He gently nudged a pile of books with the toe of his shoe. “Some of these look pretty old.”

  “They probably are. Michael was a collector of antiques as well as a dealer.”

  “Hey, Batiste?” a voice suddenly boomed out. “You up there?”

  Alex glanced toward the door, still standing ajar. “Yeah, Casey, come on up.”

  Outside, they could hear the heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs.

  “Now, that’s what I call fast service,” Alex mumbled.

  “I heard that,” the man coming through the open doorway said. “It just so happens that I was a couple of blocks over when the call came in.”

  Casey was one of the biggest men that Maddie had ever met. She considered Alex tall, but the meticulously dressed black detective was still a good head taller and probably at least fifty to sixty pounds heavier. But it was the kindness in his warm brown eyes and the sweetness of his smile that made Maddie feel comfortable despite his intimidating size.