That Old Devil Moon

by Anne Logan

  He’d finally concluded that it was time to get whatever answers he could—at least about the key. Maddie was a whole other problem. One to which he had no answers. She was an intriguing anomaly, one who had the potential to turn his life upside down.

  But aside from his personal dilemma, he had the uneasy gut feeling that until he discovered exactly what was locked away with the key, her life would continue to be in danger.

  As he poured his coffee, there was no sound from either his daughter’s bedroom or his own. He’d thought about waking up Maddie to tell her why he was leaving, but awakening her would require his going into the bedroom. Imagining her asleep in his bed and actually seeing her there were two different things, and since the latter might prove more than his strained libido could stand, Alex decided to simply leave a note instead.

  There was also the possibility that she might insist on coming along with him, something he didn’t want to chance, especially since he wasn’t sure what he might find. If Michael had been mixed up in drugs or smuggling, as Alex suspected he was, he didn’t want Maddie to find out before he had time to prepare her.

  After scribbling out a note to Carla and refilling his coffee cup, he left the apartment. The moment he stepped outside the building, the hot, muggy air closed in around him like a wet, wool blanket. He glanced up and noted that the sky was overcast. Dark clouds were gathering on the western horizon, promising rain.

  As Alex backed out of his parking spot, he thought about the list that Tom Langley had given him. Langley had taken one look at the key and identified it as probably belonging to one of several storage companies.

  The first facility Alex checked was located in the warehouse district. And although the young receptionist was more than eager to cooperate, when Alex compared Maddie’s key to the ones the company used, there were no similarities.

  The main office of the second company on the list was a complete washout. With a frown of impatience and a muttered curse, Alex glared at the sign on the entry door that proclaimed that the office was closed on Saturdays.

  By the time he located the offices of International Storage, the third company on his list, a fine drizzle had begun to fall and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

  As he entered the office’s well-appointed reception area, a sharp-featured, middle-aged woman looked up from her desk and smiled.

  “May I help you?”

  Alex pulled out his badge and flipped it open. “I’m a detective with the N.O.P.D., and I’m trying to identify a key.” He withdrew the key from his pocket and handed it to the woman. She glanced at it then passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked. “Does it look familiar?”

  The woman nodded. “It looks like the type we use on our climate-controlled vaults.”

  Alex tensed with anticipation. “So how would I find the particular vault that this key fits?”

  The woman’s expression turned frosty. “The hallmark of International Storage is the anonymous security we offer our customers. I’ve told you all I’m allowed to say. Security and the protection of the identity of our customers are our priorities. We pride ourselves on being the Swiss bank of storage in the South, so to speak.”

  The woman’s snooty attitude hit a raw nerve, and Alex felt his patience grow thin. “Look,” he said evenly, “I can appreciate your position and your company’s policies, but this isn’t Switzerland. I’m investigating a murder, and I have reason to believe that the contents of whatever vault this key fits, holds evidence vital to my case. I don’t think that withholding evidence in a murder investigation is the kind of publicity your company wants.”

  He paused to give her a moment for his words to sink in. “Now,” he said, “do I need to talk to your supervisor or is a court order necessary?”

  Only minutes later, Alex pocketed the key and a scrap of paper inscribed with a vault number, a security code and the address where the vaults were located.

  As he left the offices of International Storage, a clap of thunder cracked directly overhead, loud enough to make him jump. A sudden gust of wind kicked up. Knowing rain was sure to follow, Alex sprinted to his car. Just as he slid inside, huge drops of water began peppering the windshield.

  Glancing at his watch, he wondered if Carla and Maddie were up by now. One way to find out, he decided as he picked up his cellular phone and punched out his home phone number.

  WHEN MADDIE had first awakened, the apartment was silent. Feeling a little self-conscious, she had donned a robe and quietly made her way to the kitchen. There she had discovered Carla standing at the kitchen cabinet reading a note left by Alex explaining that he’d had to go out for a while but shouldn’t be too long.

  Maddie was working on her second cup of coffee and sifting through several sheets of music compositions that Carla had timidly agreed to let her see. Just as she started humming a few bars on one piece, the sudden, mechanical trill of the phone echoed throughout the apartment. Carla was in the shower, and Maddie hesitated, wondering if she should answer the call.

  When the phone rang a second time, she heard the shower shut off. “Hey, Maddie! Can you get that, please? I’m over the eyeballs in shampoo.”

  Maddie grinned at the picture Carla’s turn of phrase evoked. “Sure,” she called out as she reached for the wall phone behind her. “Batiste residence.”

  “Just checking in.”

  An odd sensation of pleasure and anticipation rippled through her when she recognized Alex’s voice.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Once I finally got to sleep I did.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he murmured.

  Maddie winced. “I knew I should have insisted on taking the sofa.”

  Several seconds passed before he responded. “Maddie, my sleeping problem had nothing to do with the sofa, believe me.”

  Suddenly, silence fraught with tension hummed through the phone line. The intimacy of his tone, combined with the implication of his words, sent a sudden shiver up her spine.

  “Is Carla up yet?”

  His abrupt change of subject took Maddie by surprise and confirmed the implication in his earlier statement. Thoroughly discomfited at the thought, Maddie stammered a reply. “Er—ah—yes, she is, b-but she’s in the shower at the moment, washing her hair.”

  “Uh-oh. There goes all the hot water.”

  Grateful that he hadn’t said more, she responded in kind to his lighter tone. “You are kidding, I hope.”

  His answering chuckle assured her he was, and the awkwardness that had passed between them vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.

  “Listen,” he said. “I shouldn’t be too much longer, and I mostly called to apologize for leaving you saddled with my daughter without asking first.”

  “No problem. Carla is a doll, and it’s the least I can do. She’s been showing me some of the stuff she’s composed, and it’s quite impressive for someone her age. Your daughter is truly gifted. But it’s not just the music. Her talent for lyrics is unreal for someone so young.”

  When Alex didn’t respond immediately, Maddie began to get uneasy. “I was hoping I could enlist your help in discouraging her,” he’d said the night before.

  When he finally did speak, there was a clipped coolness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. “Well…like I said, I shouldn’t be too much longer, so make yourself at home. If you need anything, Carla knows my car-phone number. And Maddie, about Carla’s so-called talent…” He paused. “I understand where you’re coming from, but please don’t encourage her.”

  When Maddie heard the click, she slowly hung up the receiver. Evidently, compliments about his daughter’s talent were not what he wanted to hear, she thought as she stared into space. Now or any time, it seemed.

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. She could understand Alex’s attitude to a point—all parents wanted their children to grow up to have stable careers, and to be happy, self-supporting adults. But surely there had to be more reason for
Alex’s attitude than the insecurity a career in music offered. After all, nothing in life came with a guarantee.

  Poor Carla, Maddie thought. “Such a shame. And such a waste,” she murmured.

  BY THE TIME he had pulled out of the International Storage parking lot, the drops of rain had turned into a downpour. The trip to Kenner where the vault was located took all of his concentration as he maneuvered through the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate in the blinding thunderstorm.

  At the facility, a narrow, paved road divided rows and rows of concrete, windowless storage buildings. When Alex located the vault that matched the number he’d been given, he switched off the car and sat, hoping the rain would let up so that he wouldn’t get soaked.

  But sitting in the car was like sitting in a steam room, Alex decided as he wiped sweat off his forehead.

  Just as he’d decided to get out of the car since he was going to get soaked anyway, the rain suddenly let up.

  With the key in hand, Alex stepped out of his car. Out of habit, he glanced around. That’s strange, he thought, eyeing a late-model blue Ford almost hidden by a large concrete vault behind him. He didn’t remember seeing the car when he’d arrived, but then, he’d been concentrating on finding the right vault in the pouring rain and hadn’t paid a lot of attention to anything else.

  With a shrug, he walked over to the vault and inserted the key. On the numbered pad next to the lock, he punched in the security code he’d been given.

  When he opened the door to the steel-lined vault, the blast of dry, cool air that escaped felt good to his sweat-soaked body. Alex flipped on a light switch and peered inside. Stacked in the center of the closet-size room were three cardboard storage boxes.

  Just as he ducked to enter the vault, a prickly feeling danced along his neck. He went stone-still, and his muscles tensed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and every survival instinct within warned of impending danger. Then a noise, ever so slight, came from behind him.

  Alex whirled just in time to throw up his arm and block the blow of the tire iron intended for his head. Pain shot up his arm, but there was no time to think about it. With a harsh grunt, he lunged at his attacker.

  The force of his tackle loosened the man’s grip on the metal rod, and it clattered against the concrete floor as they hit the ground. In a hazed blur of fists and arms, Alex tried to pin down his assailant, but the man’s skin and clothes were wet and slippery. Before Alex could get a good grip, the man bucked him off and rolled out of reach. Alex tried to scramble to his feet but slipped. By the time he got to his feet, the man was up and sprinting toward the blue Ford.

  Alex took off after him, but his attacker was too fast, and was inside his car before Alex could reach him. As Alex lunged for the door handle, the blue Ford peeled rubber, leaving Alex with a fistful of air and a face full of mud as the car fishtailed down the narrow road.

  Cursing, Alex picked himself up off the ground, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt. Hands on his hips and gasping for breath, he squinted, trying to discern the numbers of the Ford’s license plate. It was no use. The numbers were splattered with mud and unreadable.

  Calculating the odds of giving chase, he glanced from the disappearing Ford to his car. Cursing again, he stomped back to the vault. If he had been in Orleans parish instead of out of his jurisdiction in Jefferson parish, he could have at least called for help in tracking down the blue Ford and its occupant. But since he wasn’t officially conducting an investigation, he might have a hard time explaining his involvement.

  “Hmmph!” he grunted as he inspected his throbbing, bruised arm then glanced down at his clothes, which were now filthy as well as soaking wet. There was no might about it. Explaining why he was continuing an investigation on a closed case would be impossible without risking his friendship and professional relationship with Jack.

  Inside the vault, he stooped down, and as he opened the largest of the three boxes, flashes of his attacker came to him. He’d only glimpsed the man’s face, but there was something familiar about him.

  Alex paused. Absently rubbing his still-throbbing arm, he tried to recall where and when he had seen the man, but he drew a blank. Knowing that sooner or later it would come to him, he turned his attention back to the box and its contents.

  He carefully dug down through the foam packing until his fingers finally connected with something solid. Digging deeper, he was able to grasp the bottom of the object and lift it out.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, not willing to believe his eyes. But Alex knew exactly what he was holding; it was the base of a very old, and by the looks of it, an extremely well-preserved gramophone. Made of dark, rich oak, precisely cut and painstakingly fitted together with what appeared to be nickel- and gold-detailed plating, Alex had no doubt that the antique was extremely valuable.

  But valuable enough to cost someone their life? It didn’t make a lot of sense, but in his line of work, nothing much surprised him anymore. He’d investigated cases where people had been murdered for a lot less.

  Alex carefully set aside the gramophone and opened another box, one almost as large as the first one but a good deal lighter. From inside, he withdrew a wooden horn, which looked as if it had been hand-carved from the same beautiful oak as the base of the gramophone.

  By the time he’d opened the remaining cardboard box, he had a strong suspicion of what he would find. Sure enough, it was packed with old discs, the kind played on gramophones.

  “I must have missed something,” he muttered. But after giving each box a second, thorough examination, he concluded that if there was something illegal or sinister about the gramophone, it must be hidden inside. Without tools, taking the thing apart without breaking it would be impossible. He’d have to wait until be got back to his apartment.

  With the three boxes loaded in the back seat of his car, Alex drove toward the interstate on-ramp. As he approached it, he suddenly gripped the steering wheel and cursed as it occurred to him why the man who had attacked him looked familiar. It had been a while, at least six months, if he remembered right, but he had seen him before…with Jack. “Arnie,” he muttered. “Jack’s snitch.” Alex cursed again just thinking of the sleazy informant that his friend occasionally used. “Wait until I catch up with that little bastard,” he whispered.

  IN THE KITCHEN, Maddie and Carla were preparing tuna salad for lunch when they heard Alex come in the front door.

  “Maddie!” he called out. “Can you come in here? I’ve got something to show you.”

  Hearing the urgency in his voice, Maddie rinsed her hands, grabbed a towel and hurried to the living room.

  “This is the first of three,” Alex said when she entered the room. In his arms was a large cardboard box. He bent down and placed the box on the floor. “There are two more in the car.”

  Maddie’s eyes widened when Alex straightened. “What on earth happened to you?” she asked, staring at him.

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that. I’ll explain later.”

  A sudden cry from the kitchen doorway made them both turn their heads. With a look of horror on her face, Carla rushed over to Alex. “Oh, Daddy! Are you okay?”

  Alex reached out, gently took hold of Carla’s chin and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I’m fine, sweetheart, but thanks for worrying. Like I told Maddie, I’ll explain later. Right now, I have two more boxes waiting in the car that need to be unloaded.” He shifted his gaze to Maddie. “Boxes that belong to you.”

  Maddie was still wondering about Alex’s disheveled appearance, and yet, she was caught up in the sweet, reassuring kiss that she had just witnessed. It took a second for the meaning of his words to register. “Belong to me?” Totally confused, she tilted her head and frowned. “What do you mean, belong to me?”

  Alex dug inside his pocket, then held out his hand. In his palm was the key she had given him. “The mysterious key,” he explained. “I tracked down the source. And this—” he motioned to
the box “—is what your brother had locked away.”

  Excitement raced through Maddie. “Oh, Alex! Where—how—”

  He held up a hand. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it, but let me bring in the other two boxes first.”

  The moment Alex left the room, Maddie stepped closer and eyed the box speculatively.

  Carla walked over and stood beside her. “What’s all this about some mysterious key? What’s going on?”

  Maddie turned to Carla, and with as much tact and sensitivity as she could muster, she briefly explained how she had come to have the key in her possession and the subsequent suspicions she had about last night’s intruder.

  “Well, aren’t you going to open it? Aren’t you dying to know what’s inside?” Carla said.

  Dying to know, Maddie shivered as she stared at the box. It was very possible that Michael and Caroline had died because of the contents of those boxes.

  Maddie wanted to find out what was inside the container, but as she continued staring at it, fear of what she might discover wrapped around her like a shroud, and she couldn’t seem to move.

  “Maddie?”

  The concern in Carla’s voice broke through Maddie’s transfixed state. One glance at the girl’s worried expression gave Maddie the courage she needed. She attempted a reassuring smile, then knelt beside the box.

  Just as she had tugged loose the flaps, a bumping noise outside the front door made her pause. Then she heard Alex’s muffled voice. “Would someone open the door?”

  “I’ll get it,” Carla offered.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie saw Alex enter with the other two boxes, but her attention was riveted to the one in front of her as she dug through the packing. “What on earth?” she exclaimed to no one in particular when she felt the solid object.

  “Here, let me get it for you,” Alex volunteered. “It’s kind of heavy.”