The Road to Home

  “Where did this come from, Nelle?” the chief asked as he took the little silver megaphone between his fingers and examined it closely. “WRHS. What’s that mean?”

  “West River High School,” Nelle answered assuredly. “It’s what the cheerleaders wear to show how special they are. They have their own snobby club.”

  Chief Boudreaux’s eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. “Cheerleaders?”

  “Yes. Cheerleaders. Miss Ruby found it on the same shelf where the horse medicine was taken from. She thought I might know what is was. Junie brought it over yesterday.”

  Sergeant Howard extended his hand. “Let me see it.” He examined it closely before putting it down. “What about that other gold piece we found in the church after the robbery there?”

  Nelle answered quickly. “It was a sorority charm for a bracelet. This makes two, Chief,” she said cocking her head.

  “No. It’s three. The voodoo doll makes three,” he responded thoughtfully.

  “You think it’s Gloria, Chief? You think that woman did it?” Sergeant Howard wondered, sounding more doubtful than he had initially.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I think she holds the key. Why else would she call,” he said uncertainly. “Emmie said the girl in the truck who left the doll in the bathroom was young, kind of pretty. Gloria wasn’t young. Not pretty. Not anymore anyway. Maybe she was jealous or something,” he said, formulating possibilities and motives. “Or maybe he had something she wanted, or needed. We need to find out, Sarge. Looks like you’ll be getting more of those biscuits you liked so much.”

  “Yep. Guess so. But I think you just want to see that girl again. She sure has put a spell on you,” he said with a mischievous grin.

  Chief Boudreaux’s face turned red. He unconsciously put his hand on top of the alligator tooth necklace that lay under his shirt. He felt heat rising from it and blushed deeper. A tingle shot through his spine down his legs.

  “You okay, Beau?” Nelle asked sweetly, half teasing.

  “Hush up,” he said self-consciously. “Both of you.”

  Chief Boudreaux didn’t want her to come but couldn’t talk her out of it. One more trip, the next day, leave before sunrise, get home by dark.

  Sergeant Howard, on the other hand, was happy to have her along. Nelle’s company always gave him a lift. He liked her fresh unadorned looks, her direct unassuming attitude, and the way she handled the chief. She was not his subordinate, and didn’t have to follow his orders. He also thought she might be a steadying force for the mixing of Beau and Emmie again. Sergeant Howard had never seen the chief undone by the presence of a woman and Emmie made him a little tongue-tied, too.

  “I’m not sure why you want to come, Nelle. It’s going to be a long trip that might lead to nothing. This ain’t our case even. I’m just following a hunch,” Chief Boudreaux told her as she piled into the back seat of the patrol car.

  She yawned, blinking her half-asleep eyes. “Me, too. Just following a hunch. I won’t be any bother. Promise. Can we stop at the truck stop for coffee though? I just kind of rolled out of bed. It’s so early.”

  Sergeant Howard looked expectantly at the chief, trying to hold a widening grin. “Okay with me,” he said. “I didn’t eat nothin’ this morning either.”

  Chief Boudreaux lowered his chin and cast an unconvincing annoyed look his way. “Okay. If you want. I’m outnumbered. Was going to stop there on the way back. But okay.” He couldn’t contain his own small grin. He looked through his rear view window at Nelle, who had her head back on the seat and was snoring lightly, with her mouth open.

  Sergeant Howard shifted down in his seat and crossed his arms across his belly. “Wake me when we get there, Chief. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Chief Boudreaux shook his head and rolled his eyes. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel as he picked up speed and thought how familiar and pleasurable this trip seemed to him now. As dawn brightened on the gray ribbon of highway, he was content to pilot his sleeping crew and fully alert with thoughts of seeing Emmie again so soon.

  Nelle and Sarge roused within a few minutes of each other after the bright morning sunshine streamed through the windows and warmed the car. Sarge grunted first and sat fully upright. Nelle yawned loudly and opened her window for fresh air.

  “Welcome back, sleepy heads. Almost there,” the chief announced.

  “Ummm. I can smell the coffee from here,” Nelle said. “Hurry up.”

  Sarge’s stomach growled noisily. “Told you I didn’t eat nothin’,” he said, pushing his hands down on his big belly. “That’s it. Up there,” he said pointing in the distance to the shabby sign. “Somebody ought to fix that for her,” he commented, looking at the chief.

  “Go ahead, Sarge. I’m sure she will pay you in biscuits for life,” he replied.

  Chief Boudreaux turned onto the gravel road, surprised to see that two tractor-trailer rigs were sitting in the small parking lot blocking the storefront view. He had hoped to find Emmie alone.

  Two men sat at the counter, several stools apart. One trucker was bearded and burly, an older man with a tanned face wearing a dirty khaki shirt. The younger man was square-jawed and ruggedly handsome with muscles that strained the rolled up sleeves of his white tee shirt. His curly blonde hair hung just below his ears. Generous portions of country breakfast sat on their half-eaten plates.

  Nelle was the first to walk in with Chief Boudreaux holding the door for her and Sarge. Emmie had her back to the counter as she tended to frying more bacon on the stove.

  At the sound of the squeaking screen door, Emmie turned around and squealed in delight. She dropped her spatula and shouted, “Look who’s here! Comment ca va, mes amis!”

  The two truckers turned their heads, not especially excited to see two uniformed police officers. They quickly resumed eating, after a weak nod to Nelle.

  “Should’a called I guess,” the chief said, finding himself embarrassed, but realizing it was a truck stop after all. He felt a pang of jealously as he examined the muscular back of the younger man. He didn’t like the thought of Emmie serving him, but after she flashed him her brilliant smile he quickly reigned in his resentment.

  Emmie pranced forward to the counter, calling to him with open pleasure. “Beau! Mon Dieu! Mon ami!”

  Chief Boudreaux thought his heart would stop.

  The younger man turned to look at the chief again, staring at him for a few seconds, stone faced.

  Chief Boudreaux returned the cold stare, placing his hands on his hips, shifting his attention to Emmie. “Comment ca va, Emmeline,” he said, grinning back at her. “Here we are again.”

  “It’s so nice to see you, Emmie!” Nelle said cheerfully. “We have news,” she blurted out, going immediately silent after Chief Boudreaux glared at her with a disapproving signal. “Sorry,” she whispered, hunching into silence.

  Emmie glanced at her two customers, and gave Beau an understanding nod. “Time to eat. That’s why you’re here. I know what Mr. Sarge wants,” she said, cocking her head toward the platter of freshly made biscuits.

  Sarge hoisted himself onto a stool, well away from the two men already seated. He returned their curious glimpse his way with a friendly nod. “And coffee, please, Miss Emmie. Lots of coffee,” he said, turning to Nelle who took a seat next to him. “For her, too. She needs to wake up,” he teased.

  Emmie busied herself serving breakfast and pouring coffee with little conversation exchanged among them, demonstrating her grasp of Beau’s message. The presence of her other customers stymied their talking, but her attentiveness to him bordered on comical. She couldn’t help herself.

  Beau sopped it up like the gravy on his biscuits, smiling, eating, and sipping his thrice-filled cup of coffee. Their eyes met a little too often. He followed her every move. The attraction zinged through the air like an electrical charge, crackling through his body, raising the hair on his arms.

  Sergeant Howard cleared his throat to get Emmie
’s attention and held up his empty cup. “You know, Miss Emmie, there’s a real nice corner cafe on Main Street in West River just closed up a few months ago. You ever think of relocating? You’d be perfect. Customers would beat your doors down for them biscuits. Wouldn’t they, Beau?”

  The chief choked on his coffee and put his cup down hard.

  Nelle chimed in eagerly. “Emmie! You’d love it there. Don’t you get lonely out here so far away from everything?”

  Emmie looked at Sarge, then Nelle. “Well, mes amis, I never used to. But I do now.”

  Beau spoke quietly, tenderness in his voice, “We have to get going now, Emmie, but we’ll stop by again on the way home. One more trip we have to make to New Orleans.”

  Satisfied with full stomachs and stimulated by Emmie’s strong coffee, the three set out for the last leg of the journey to New Orleans. Sarge had confiscated one last biscuit in a napkin, placing it carefully on the console that separated their seats. “Just in case,” he said, wrinkling his nose humorously at Beau.

  “I wish those men hadn’t been there. I was dying for you to tell Emmie about the blood on the card. She would have something to say about that,” Nelle said. “We’ll tell her when we go back later. If no one else is there, I guess.”

  The chief sighed. He had also been disappointed that Emmie had other customers, and was surprised by his strong reaction to the young trucker who ogled her, but it also gave him the perfect excuse to see her again. He hoped she would be alone, too.

  Sarge responded with a drawn out “Ummm hmmm. Someone’s gonna grab that gal right up if you don’t, Chief. You know that don’t you?” Sarge was not joking this time. “I saw the way that young guy was looking at her.”

  “I saw it, too, Sarge. Just shut up,” the chief replied, unable to hide his irritation.

  “It wasn’t his first trip there either. I can tell you that right now. You know that, too, don’t you? Might even be a regular customer.”

  “What did I just tell you, Sergeant Howard. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant responded, reaching for his biscuit.

  Nelle knew enough not to open her mouth, but their exchange made her think of Pete and how her life was full, in spite of her losses. She could finally envision a future with riches far beyond anything she had once dared to imagine. Cloud Nine, she thought, wrapping her arms contentedly around her middle, resting her head back, prepared to enjoy the ride.

  On the remaining stretch of the drive to New Orleans, Nelle began to question why she had insisted on coming with Chief Boudreaux and Sergeant Howard in the first place. She could tell that the chief was not in a mood for conversation during the last leg of this trip, so she refrained from asking him for more details concerning the case, but she wondered if her insistence on joining them was impulsive and hasty. She speculated that perhaps what she considered a hunch might be no more than a rationalization for her desire to solve the mystery surrounding unexplained occurrences. She could never resist wanting to solve problems. Chief Boudreaux’s belief in the theory of the threes intrigued her, to the point of detecting connections, but she didn’t want to interfere. However, as a passenger in the back seat of the car, she realized it was too late to undo her involvement, whichever way events might play out. She knew that Chief Boudreaux was generous with his confidence in her by allowing her to come at all. He trusted what she brought to the puzzle, and she did not want undermine his faith.

  “This isn’t exactly the glitzy part of the city is it,” Nelle commented as Chief Boudreaux drove past the French Quarter, through the neighborhood where Fat Cash Pawn was located, well beyond the picturesque settings of old world charm that had enthralled her on her previous visit. “It’s not very glamorous.”

  “Nah,” Sergeant Howard responded. “This ain’t where the rich folks live. Lots here just scraping by. Barely even that.”

  Chief Boudreaux responded, “Not easy in a place that promises so much and delivers so little. I used to think New Orleans would put me on the map. All it did was send me back where I came from.”

  “Now don’t complain, Chief. You done all right coming home to us,” Sergeant Howard reminded him.

  “Are you sorry?” Nelle asked. “I mean sorry you came home. Or sorry you didn’t get famous?”

  “He’s famous, Nelle. Famous in West River!” Sergeant Howard kidded.

  “I’ve done okay. So far. Not finished yet,” the chief replied.

  “You mean Miss Ruby ain’t finished with you, yet,” the sergeant said, shooting him a lighthearted glance.

  “Can’t argue that point. Won’t even try,” he answered back. “Hey. Here’s Lanvale. We’re here.”

  He pulled the police car behind the black pickup that sat in the driveway. The license plate DANCE4U was smeared with mud as if someone were trying to erase or deface it.

  “I’ll do the talking,” he instructed. “You two stay behind me. She might not let us in. Don’t push on her. Be respectful.” The chief sucked in his breath as he got out of the car and wondered for a second if he had made a mistake. He had not devised a clear plan for the intrusive visit, especially since he had no jurisdictional right to question Gloria. It was purely his instinct that had driven him to her doorstep.

  The black and white cat that had scurried out of the house on their first visit lay stretched out on the porch. He scampered away as they approached the steps. Chief Boudreaux noticed what he thought was dried blood on a pointed railing and shuddered to think of Jack King’s last horrific breath. He thought of the voodoo doll impaled by a hatpin to the King of Hearts and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He knocked deliberately on the front door three times and took a slight step back.

  Nelle saw a curtain part slightly as they stood on the porch behind the chief. A hand swiped it closed rapidly and she heard low voices and quick footsteps.

  Next came a hysterical voice shouting from behind the door, “No! No! Don’t! Leave it alone!”

  Chief Boudreaux’s hand went to his pistol. Sergeant Howard pushed Nelle to the side and drew his gun.

  The door flew open and a disheveled young woman with wild tangled blonde hair, red nose and bloodshot eyes, wearing only a wrinkled man’s shirt, stood in the doorway. “Don’t shoot,” she said wearily, “it’s only me.”

  Chief Boudreaux’s mouth fell open. Sergeant Howard lowered his gun.

  Nelle gasped. “Tammy!”

  Gloria walked up behind her and lightly touched her shoulder. “I guess ya’ll ought to come on in,” she said. “Come sit down, Tammy,” she said, taking her by the arm. “It’s over now, honey.”

  Gloria led them to the sparsely furnished drab living room that reeked of stale cigarette smoke and the lingering odor of spilled beer. The shabby room resembled a cheap motel with mismatched furniture and dim lighting. Cat hair clung to a worn blanket that covered the sagging faded green couch. A wobbly coffee table held steady by a matchbook under one leg was cluttered with overflowing ashtrays. Moisture stains formed circles on the table’s surface in random designs.

  Nelle took a seat in straight back chair with a frayed caned seat that faced the couch. She stared at the broken girl sitting in front of her, unrecognizable as the haughty, condescending snob that had made her high school years so miserable. Now unmasked, she was no longer the rich, flirtatious femme fatal that had shamelessly toyed with Pete and rode her father’s thoroughbred like privileged royalty to win the jubilee horse race. It was hard to fathom that this was the same person. This Tammy Boone was pitiable.

  “Stop looking at me that way,” Tammy said to Nelle as she wiped her nose. “Just stop it.”

  Nelle blinked hard and looked at Chief Boudreaux who had taken a seat next to her on the couch. Sergeant Howard sat in a weathered white wicker rocking chair, swaying himself slightly, waiting.

  Gloria emerged from the hallway with a pink chenille bathrobe and sat on the other side of Tammy, placing the robe on her lap. “Cover yourself,” sh
e said in a motherly tone. “There now.” She smoothed the surface of the robe making sure Tammy’s bare legs were covered.

  Chief Boudreaux was deliberately trying to make Tammy feel more comfortable by his silence. He could see that she needed to collect herself and was grateful that Gloria was a calming presence. He was here to gain information not to persecute or harass them, and he knew he had no legal right to be there, but he believed the phone call was a call for help.

  Tammy turned to Gloria, pleadingly, “I don’t know where to begin.”

  Gloria patted her knee. “From the beginning.” She then bent slightly forward to address Chief Boudreaux. “I made that phone call, Chief. It was me who called. I think you knew that or you wouldn’t be here.”

  The chief nodded his head reassuringly.

  “I guess I don’t know where the beginning is,” Tammy said under her breath, looking down.

  Chief Boudreaux said in a quiet, encouraging voice, “Then start in the middle, Tammy. I’m not here to arrest you.” He thought of his own failed dreams and the lucky encounter that gave him new ones.

  Tammy looked up at him and took a deep breath. Her shoulders relaxed as she blew out a long stream of air. “Okay. Okay.” Turning her gaze on Nelle, she said, apologetically, “I just wanted to be somebody. To be somebody special. Daddy wanted me to stand out in the crowd.”

  “Well you did that, Tammy,” Nelle said, not unkindly.

  “He used to say that ordinary was the worst kind of sin. He said Boones were not ordinary people and he did whatever it took to keep common things and dull people away from us. Red convertibles, fast horses, the best clothes, parties, the country club. My brother was captain of the football team so he had something going for him. He wore that varsity letter like a medal. Daddy was so proud. Bragged about his boy the captain all the time.”