That Old Devil Moon

by Anne Logan

  “Snooping?” Alex felt his temper flare. He took a step toward her. “Now, just hold your horses, young lady. I’m not the one who needs to do the explaining around here.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Just where have you been the last two days?”

  When a look of guilt passed across Carla’s face, he knew his instincts had been correct. His teenage daughter had chosen to ignore her mother’s instructions to call him. But Carla’s look of guilt passed almost instantly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said defiantly.

  “You’re lying, Carla. The neighbor across the hallway filled me in.”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits and her lips curled sullenly. “And of course you’d believe that old hag instead of your own daughter?”

  This was not at all how he had envisioned their time together beginning, Alex thought. His temper was close to the boiling point.

  Shoving his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath and glared at her. Then in a deliberately even, no-nonsense voice, he said, “You’ve got exactly fifteen minutes to pack whatever you’ll need for the next month. I’ll be waiting in the living room.” Before she had a chance to respond, Alex marched out of the room and down the hallway.

  He’d just stepped into the living room, when a blast of hard-rock music erupted, loud enough to rattle the light fixtures. Alex pivoted and marched back down the hall. He halted in the doorway, and ignoring Carla who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed instead of packing, Alex searched for the source of the teeth-jarring noise. The moment he spotted the stereo, he strode determinedly to it then pulled the plug.

  “Now you’ve got twelve minutes,” he said over his shoulder. “And if you choose to pack nothing then you’ll just have to make do with what you’re wearing for the next four weeks.”

  He again pivoted to leave the room, but as he turned, he caught the wide-eyed look of astonishment on his daughter’s face.

  Ten minutes later, her guitar slung over her back and scowling, Carla appeared in the living room. Connected to the strap in her hand was a huge, bulging suitcase trailing behind her.

  The ride to his apartment was silent, but the air was electrified with tension between daughter and father. Alex wanted to know where she had been for the last two days, but decided against pressing the issue for now. Sooner or later, he figured Carla would slip up and he’d find out. One thing he could count on from her was her penchant for chatter…if he could just get her started.

  “How about ordering a pizza when we get inside?” he said, pulling into his designated parking spot. But the only response was a shrug of indifference. “Extra cheese and mushrooms?” he added, hoping to elicit some enthusiasm. When she shrugged again, Alex fought back his fast-growing impatience and tried to think of some way to get her to talk to him. As he hefted Carla’s suitcase from the trunk of the car, unexpectedly, thoughts of Maddie surfaced.

  Unlike his ex-wife whose prime goal in life was climbing to the top of the New Orleans social ladder, Alex had never been a name-dropper…still, anything to do with the music profession was sure to pique Carla’s interest.

  “I met someone a few days ago you might be interested in,” he said as he unlocked the apartment door and swung it open.

  As Carla stalked past him and entered the apartment, she threw him a suspicious glance, but kept her lips pressed into a tight, thin line of silence.

  Alex picked up her suitcase and carried it inside. He closed the door and headed down the short hallway toward the spare bedroom. “She used to be the lead backup singer for that country-western singer, Judd Cameron,” he called out nonchalantly over his shoulder.

  Setting down the suitcase by the dresser, Alex turned to exit the room and found Carla standing in the doorway. “Did you say Judd Cameron?” she asked, her eyes dancing with excitement.

  When he nodded, it was all he could do to keep a straight face.

  As if their argument had never occurred, Carla grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen. “I’ll call and order the pizza, and while we wait, you can tell me all about her.”

  ON BOURBON STREET, Jack Moore ducked into a sidestreet bar and stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The smell of stale liquor assaulted his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  Searching the small, dingy room, he finally spied the man he was looking for. The short, squirrelly looking man was sitting at a table in one of the darkened corners. Arnie Turner might not look like much, but Jack knew that looks were deceiving in Arnie’s case. The man was cagey, wiry and quick, with the strength of a man twice his size. And Arnie wasn’t above playing dirty.

  At that moment, Arnie looked up and saw Jack. His gaze shifted nervously from the door to the other patrons as Jack approached the table.

  Jack slid out a chair and sat. “Glad you could make it, Arnie.”

  A sullen look crossed the man’s face. “Didn’t have much choice, now, did I?”

  A sinister smile pulled at Jack’s lips. “Oh, there are always choices. Some just have more consequences than others, and in your case, a trip back to Angola wouldn’t be a very good choice.”

  It did Jack’s heart good when he saw Arnie’s sallow face pale. Angola prison was the last place Arnie Turner wanted to go. There were too many men there who knew that the reason for their conviction was because of Arnie the snitch.

  “Enough already with the philosophy crap,” Arnie snapped in his gravelly voice. “What do you want this time?”

  Jack shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Arnie, Arnie…patience.”

  At that moment, a barmaid approached the table, and Jack shook his head. “Nothing for me.”

  Arnie pointed at his glass. “I’ll have another one, and make it a double.”

  The woman turned to leave, but Arnie reached out and grabbed her arm. “And give my tab to this…gentleman.” He drawled out the word as if it were something dirty. “He’s paying today.”

  Jack waited until the woman left. “I’ve got a little job for you,” he told Arnie. “A fellow officer named Alex Batiste has a key and he’s looking for the lock it fits.” Jack fished out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and held it out to Arnie. “Here’s a list of the places he’s likely to go.”

  It had been pure luck that while he’d been waiting to take his friend for lunch, Jack overheard Alex talking to Tom Langley. The Johnson woman was the only lead Alex had, and given the interest Alex had shown in the case, it seemed likely that Alex was the person she would turn to. But Jack knew that his old friend was sharp, and overhearing Langley had saved Jack from having to pump Alex for information, something he hadn’t looked forward to, since it was a sure bet that any interest he showed after their confrontation was sure to make Alex suspicious.

  “Use your contacts to cover all possibilities,” Jack continued. “I want whatever is locked away with that key, so tell your contacts that short of murder, they’re to use whatever force is necessary to get the merchandise.”

  Arnie narrowed his eyes and glared at Jack. “And this will cancel my debt?”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, Arnie. We’ll be squared away.”

  Arnie snatched the list and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

  Jack shoved back his chair and stood. “I’ll be waiting for your call.” He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and dropped it on the table. “That should cover your tab “ Then he turned and walked out of the bar.

  A QUICK GLANCE at the numbers glowing from the clock on the bedside table was like a cold dose of reality. The dial read 9:00 p.m. Maddie couldn’t believe that she’d slept so long.

  True, she’d returned to the apartment exhausted after dealing with the attorney, talking with Michael’s bankers and paying a quick visit to Crescent Antiques where she’d learned that Bernie Keller was not in. The stress of the afternoon, together with the heat and humidity, had caused her to collapse across her bed, where she’d apparently be
en dead to the world for hours.

  Maddie reached out to turn on the bedside lamp. At that moment, the compressor of the air conditioner kicked off, and for a split second, another sound penetrated the ensuing silence. With her hand still suspended in midair, Maddie tilted her head as chills crawled along her neck. Had she imagined the scraping sound coming from the living room? Was someone trying to get in at the front door?

  Memories of another time flashed through her mind…a man coming through her window…her brother wielding a baseball bat…

  And more recently, the memory of walking in to find her brother’s apartment had been broken into and ransacked.

  Stop it, Maddie! It’s just your imagination working overtime.

  “Probably just a stray cat,” she whispered, hoping the sound of her own voice would have a calming effect. Seconds seemed to drag by as Maddie sat trying to decide on a course of action. Finally, deliberately, she reached for the lamp switch again. At that moment, an eerie shadow materialized on the wall opposite the windows along the balcony. Maddie jerked her head around to stare at the double windows. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw a dark form move.

  Oh, God, she thought. Someone was on the balcony.

  Get to the phone. Call 911.

  As Maddie slipped off the bed and fled down the hallway, her barefoot steps silent, she wondered if she should turn on all the lights. Maybe that would frighten away whoever was out there. Making a splitsecond decision, Maddie flipped on light switches when she entered the living room where the only phone in the apartment was located.

  Breathless with fright and keeping her ears trained for any odd sounds, she snatched the receiver and punched out the emergency number. To her horror, she heard a recording tell her that all circuits were busy, but to hang on and an operator would be with her shortly.

  The sound of glass breaking made her heart beat faster. Now what do I do? she thought frantically.

  Alex. Call Alex.

  Maddie hung up and grabbed her purse. Praying that the business card he’d given her was still there, she turned the purse upside down, dumping the contents onto the table beside the phone. She spied the card almost instantly.

  Maddie tried to punch out Alex’s phone number, but her trembling fingers wouldn’t cooperate, and she hit the wrong number. Squeezing her hand into a fist then stretching out her fingers, she took a deep breath, depressed the switch hook and tried again.

  The phone rang once…twice…Maddie glanced nervously toward the bedroom where the sound had come from. “Come on, answer the phone,” she whispered. “Come on!”

  “Hello.”

  “Oh, Alex, thank God.”

  “Maddie? What’s wrong—”

  “No one would answer 911, and someone’s on the balcony and I just heard glass breaking—”

  “Maddie, run! Get out of the apartment now!”

  “I—I can’t. I—I—there might be more than one. I heard a noise at the door first.”

  “Damn…okay, okay. Calm down. Go inside the bathroom and lock the door. Don’t come out until you hear me. I’m calling the police and I’m on my way.”

  “Hurry, Alex! Please hurry!”

  Wondering if she had time to grab a knife from the kitchen, Maddie slammed down the receiver. The unmistakable groan of wood sliding against wood came from the direction of the bedroom, and Maddie knew that she only had seconds before the intruder came through the window.

  Maddie eased the bathroom door shut behind her as quietly as possible. Fumbling along the door frame in the pitch-dark room, she located the old-fashioned bolt lock and slid it into place. All she could do at this point was hope that it would take the intruder a while to locate her.

  Feeling weak with fright, she leaned against the door and pressed her ear to the wood. Knowing that the slightest sound could alert the intruder to her location, she held back the urge to scream and tried to gain control of her ragged breathing.

  Alex is coming. The police are on their way. Over and over she repeated the silent litany, praying that someone would get there before it was too late.

  The sound was ever so slight, but after living in her brother’s apartment for a few days, Maddie had already learned the idiosyncrasies of the old building. She knew instantly that the noise she’d just heard was the creak of the wooden floor in the hallway just outside the bedroom door…mere steps from the bathroom. She held her breath for what seemed an eternity.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  The muffled voice belonged to a man. It was low and rough. When the doorknob rattled, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and felt cold sweat trickle down her back.

  “If you tell me what I want to know, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  Maddie jammed her fist against her mouth to muffle the sob of terror that erupted from her throat.

  The doorknob rattled again, followed by a whack that sounded as if he’d kicked the door. “Open the door, bitch!” He kicked the door again.

  How many blows would it take before the lock gave way? she wondered desperately. And how could she defend herself if he did break through before the police or Alex showed up?

  When another blow shook the frame, Maddie jerked away from the door. Raking her hand across the wall, she finally located the switch and flipped on the light. Squinting against the sudden brightness, she frantically scanned the small room for anything she could use as a weapon.

  Another thud shook the door, and Maddie yanked open the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink. Inside she spotted a pair of manicure scissors—too small to be deadly but just sharp enough to inflict pain. A can sitting on top of the sink counter caught her eye. Hair spray. A squirt in the eyes might slow him down, she thought.

  “Where is it?” the intruder shouted as he landed another jarring blow. “Let me have it and I’ll let you live.” The door vibrated again from yet another assault.

  Gripping the scissors in one hand, Maddie snatched the hair spray with her other hand. With both makeshift weapons poised in front of her, she backed up against the sink cabinet to wait.

  Maddie was so focused and tense that it took several minutes for her to realize that the man had stopped pounding on the door. Then faintly at first, and growing louder with each second, she heard the warble of a police siren in the distance.

  Had the intruder heard it, too, and fled? Although she was tempted to open the door to find out, Maddie recalled what Alex had said. Minutes dragged by and she felt as if she were caught in a nightmare that was never going to end.

  Suddenly, she heard a commotion outside the door…men’s voices…calling her name…But Maddie couldn’t move or utter a sound.

  After what seemed an eternity, there was a sharp rap on the bathroom door.

  “Maddie, open the door.”

  Wondering if the voice really was Alex’s or if her imagination had manufactured it, Maddie still didn’t move.

  “Maddie? It’s me, Alex. You can come out now.”

  Finally realizing that the voice was real, Maddie dropped the scissors and the hair-spray can. As they clattered against the tile floor, she fumbled with the lock and opened the door. On the other side stood Alex looking tall, strong…and safe.

  Without giving it a second thought, Maddie launched herself into his arms.

  “It’s okay…everything’s okay,” Alex soothed as he closed his arms around her trembling body. Unable to help himself, he brushed his lips against her forehead. Maddie whimpered and pressed even closer. And as Alex tightened his grip, he offered up a brief prayer of thanks that she hadn’t been harmed, and he fought for control over the lightning-swift response of his body.

  He’d arrived minutes after the police, and the officer in charge had quickly filled him in. Although the intruder had been spotted on the balcony and they had chased the man, he’d gotten away. Other than noting that the man was of average height, slight build and dressed completely in black, no one had managed to get a good enough look to help identify him.


  At the time, Alex had been too concerned about Maddie’s well-being to give the description much thought. His priority had been to get her out of the locked bathroom and reassure himself that she was unharmed.

  But now, with her safely in his arms, another scene flashed through his memory…Michael’s funeral… a thin man dressed in black. Was he the man who had just fled from Maddie’s apartment?

  Alex closed his eyes for a second as an uneasy feeling crawled along his spine. Was the man a stalker? Was he after Maddie? If so, why? Maddie had never been to New Orleans before, and according to every conversation Alex had had with her, she didn’t know anyone here.

  Noting that she had finally stopped trembling, Alex pulled away slightly. When he saw how pale she was, he wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms and hold her until the fear in her dark blue eyes completely disappeared. But he figured that the questions that had to be asked would be easier coming from him than from the officer in charge—a complete stranger. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

  “I—I guess so,” she whispered.

  “Why don’t we go into the living room and sit on the sofa?”

  Still looking frightened and confused, she managed to nod. With his arm firmly around her waist, Alex walked her to the living room. When he’d settled her onto the sofa, he knelt down in front of her, and taking her hands in his, he began a gentle interrogation.

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Maddie gripped his hands, and in a halting, sometimes whispery, broken voice, she told Alex everything that had occurred from the time she had awakened to the moment she had finally recognized Alex’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door. “He demanded to know where ‘it’ was, that if I’d let him have ‘it,’ he would let me live.” Her face contorted in confusion. “I—I don’t know what he wanted,” she cried. “If I’d known, I would have gladly given ‘it’ to him. He—he must have had me confused with someone else, but that someone could only have been my brother—”