by A. C. Mason
“Yeah, I’ve seen a few encampments from time to time.”
Danny hit the throttle and continued down the bayou to the dock where they left the boat in the capable hands of a flotilla deputy.
Driving back to the house, Jim reviewed the scene at the Romaines’ house with Danny. “Tell me what you know about a traiteur. I’ve run into some voodoo healers in New Orleans and fortune tellers, but I don’t have much knowledge about the traiteur.”
Danny gave him a curious look. “Even growing up around here?”
“Practically the whole time I lived here I was more interested in leaving than learning about the area. We moved here just after I turned five. My mother told me later the move happened because she thought the solitude out here would help my dad heal after his stint in Vietnam.
“But instead, the area was more of a reminder,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “From what I know about Cajun healers, Patia doesn’t quite fit the bill. According to the local grapevine, anyone who needed the services she provided and was desperate enough to venture out there to her place paid through the nose.
“Traditionally a traiteur never asked for payment because they believed their gift for healing was from God. But these healers are practically a thing of the past. So is the belief that God would provide. Now only the almighty dollar will deliver.”
In Jim’s mind, Danny’s philosophy about the plight of the world, while true, had nothing to do with the case. He was anxious to get some hard evidence on either Patia or Gibb Romaine…or both. Out of respect he waited until the sheriff had gotten off his soap box. “You saw the deck of tarot cards on the table, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I saw it,” Danny said.
“I considered mentioning that I spotted the cards, but decided against it. She caught me looking inside the house. I doubt she realized what I picked up on…at the time. Although she might figure it out after she went back inside.”
Danny appeared pleased with his assessment. “Exactly. But also, Patia just didn’t want us to see Gibb.”
“Maybe that might be a good thing. Let her and Gibb sweat for a while.” His expression sobered. “One problem though—if she figures out we saw the deck of cards, she might get rid of the evidence. Since we didn’t confront her…”
“Maybe so. She’s smart enough to put two and two together. He’s been through the system so he is too.”
Jim stewed for a moment about his indiscreet surveillance and his lack of action concerning the discovery. If she does hide the cards, his misstep could jeopardize the case. He changed the subject.
What’s your take on Gibb Romaine?”
“He’s bad news. Naturally the alibi from his sister is questionable,” Danny replied. “You said you got the notification of his release?”
“I did, but the name didn’t register at the time. I intended to look him up in the system, but never got around to it. I did remember the description of his tattoos.” He didn’t like feeling he’d been negligent in his job. “During the lull here not dealing with robberies and murders, I got lazy. I feel pumped now. Never realized I would miss chasing after bad guys.”
“Me neither. A much longer time has passed since I dealt with major crime.” Danny seemed to force a smile. “This investigation will be good for both of us, providing we don’t have another murder on the heels of this one.”
“Wouldn’t that be a hell of a note.”
~ * ~
I considered the idea of walking next door and asking Rachel if she would go with me to visit the psychic I’d consulted in New Orleans years ago. Jim would be angry, and that in turn might make Danny mad at me for involving Rachel. But Danny didn’t seem to mind her doing research.
Jim didn’t want me caught up in any way, shape or form with this investigation. I could understand why, but the significance of the two cards and the other items was driving me crazy. What message was the killer trying to send? I had to find out.
Rachel’s explanation sounded logical, but I wanted a second opinion. Besides, Rachel admitted she wasn’t really familiar with the tarot card meanings.
I could simply make an appointment with Taylor Evans myself and go for a visit. But I really didn’t want to go alone.
Hearing a car pull up in the driveway next door, I pulled the curtain aside and peered out. Danny and Jim had returned from their excursion down the bayou. A visit with Rachel would have to wait. I would discuss the subject with her another time.
Watching Jim as he strolled across the yard to our house, I noted his somber expression. The visit with the Romaines must not have gone well. He seemed depressed or discouraged—hard to tell which.
He walked in the door, removed his jacket and threw it over the back of the sofa.
“How did the trip to the Romaines’ place go?” I studied his face, searching for a sign of his state of mind.
He shrugged. “So-so. We learned a few things.”
“Like what? The meaning of the tarot cards?”
“No, we didn’t ask her about that.” He lowered his six foot frame down into his favorite chair, a brown leather recliner. “I spotted a deck of tarot cards sitting on a table right inside her front door.”
I frowned. “Why didn’t you ask her about them?”
“She didn’t invite us inside. We all sat out on the porch. As far as I could tell, the cards were a commercial deck. When asked what she usually put in her bags, at first she told us herbs for medicinal or ritual purposes. We kept after her to tell us more, hoping she would admit to using tarot cards. Finally she conceded she occasionally placed a crystal in there, but nothing else.
“I asked if she ever put tarot cards in her bags. She gave me a highly insulted look and told me the cards don’t belong in the gris-gris bags. Danny followed my lead so he didn’t say anything either.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
“So he saw the cards too.”
Jim opened his eyes and gave me a brief humorless smile. “Yeah, he did.”
“Is that what you’re feeling bad about?” I tilted my head to one side. “Are you afraid you made a mistake not mentioning the cards?”
“What makes you think I’m feeling bad about anything?”
I pointed a finger at him. “I know you, Jim Foret. You’re worried or unhappy about something. Come on. What is it?”
“Back when I was a detective, I knew exactly what procedure to use for any given situation,” he said with resignation. “After all this idle time, I haven’t had to work my brain. It’s going to take some practice to get back in the swing of things.”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen by not revealing you knew she possibly omitted any reference to the cards?”
“If she knew we were looking at tarot cards as evidence, she might get rid of the deck.”
“Couldn’t she do the same if you had confronted her?”
“But then we could have caught her in a lie and called her on it.” He gave a slight shrug. “I guess this is one of those Catch-Twenty-two situations. Who knows, maybe it was best we didn’t mention the cards.”
I walked over and sat on the arm of his chair. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I leaned my head against his. “Don’t worry. I’m certain you’ll be back in practice in no time. Investigating is like second nature to you.” I kissed him on the cheek. “There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”
He didn’t speak for such a long time, I pulled back and stared at him. “Jim?”
“My father chose to kill himself out in the swamp close to where we went today.”
My chest constricted. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t realize it was there.” I put both arms around him, holding him in silence.
After a while he gently removed my arms and planted a quick kiss on my lips. “This pity party isn’t solving the murder.”
“It certainly isn’t. Now put away all those ridiculous ideas about being incompetent. You and Danny have a murder to solve.”
/> He got up from the chair and turned to me, his expression brightening. “Honestly, this investigation might be just what I need to get my brain working again.”
I laughed. “When did it stop?”
“For a couple of hours from the time we arrived at the Romaines’ until a few minutes ago.”
“Okay, you didn’t find out anything about the tarot card. So what information did you uncover?” I could tell by Jim’s expression he dreaded the idea of getting me more involved. “I’m curious, that’s all.”
Jim eyed me with a combination of caution and suspicion. “We added two more suspects.”
“The woman and her father?”
“No, Patia and her brother, Gibb. He was recently released on parole from Angola.”
“Oh, yeah, you and Danny mentioned him when we were talking earlier. They certainly have, uh, unusual names,” I noted. “Too bad you didn’t find out the meaning of the cards. I could…”
“Susan…”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m interested to know what kind of message the killer intended to leave. I’ve never been this close to a police investigation before.”
“What do you call all the mess with your brother years ago?”
“Oh, that was my investigation,” I said with a flick of my hand. “Not an official police investigation.”
He glared at me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound flippant.” I really hadn’t meant to be sarcastic, but his reticence to discuss the case annoyed me. “I fail to see what harm it would cause if I helped you in some way with this investigation.”
“Like how?”
“I could talk to the psychic in New Orleans and ask her about the tarot card.” Hope rose in my voice. “I remember seeing reference books in her office about tarot cards.”
“Do you really want to see her and rehash bad memories?”
“Jim, this subject has nothing to do with those events.” I directed an irritated look at him. “And if you keep bringing up Anne’s murder, I’ll never be able to put the past behind me.”
He lowered his eyes briefly. “I didn’t mention Anne’s murder.”
“Not literally, but you continue to suggest that I can’t do this or that because what I want to do has the potential to bring up bad memories.” I started to revisit his earlier mention of his father’s suicide, but thought better of it. That would have been extremely unkind. “No matter where either of us goes or what we do, there’s always going to be a place or an event or even a word that brings up memories we’d rather not relive.”
“I just don’t want you to be connected in any way to a murder investigation.”
I raised my hands in exasperation. “How would I be connected? There’s no relationship between Teddy Berthelot and me.”
“No, but you practically witnessed his murder,” he argued.
“So did a number of other people.” Before he could interject another excuse into the mix, I continued. “And what would it matter if I was to provide vital information to help find the killer?”
“What about the twins?”
“The kids will be in school next week. The Mardi Gras holidays aren’t until the following Monday and Tuesday. Besides, I’d only be gone for a couple of hours.”
He walked into the kitchen without answering.
“Jim?” I can’t believe he’s going to give me the silent treatment.
After a few moments he returned to face me. “Okay, go talk to the psychic, but I don’t want you going alone.”
I started to object on general principles, but changed my mind. I didn’t want to go alone anyway. “I’ll ask Rachel to go with me.”
“Good,” he said, looking relieved.
I rose from the sofa. “Are you going to be here for a few minutes?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll run over next door and see when Rachel can go with me.”
“Don’t stay too long. I need to go back to the office and start compiling my witness list and check on the fingerprints and get started on all the other paperwork involved.”
I glanced at my watch—almost three. The twins were occupied peacefully in their rooms. How long the peace and quiet would last was anyone’s guess. “Will you be home for supper?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call you if I’m going to be longer than an hour or so.” He paused for a long moment. “Remember how my schedule was when I worked homicide for NOPD?”
“Yes,” I said dragging the word out. “You were gone a lot, especially when you had a big case.”
“Well this may turn out exactly like that.”
Six
Crouched beneath the giant oak’s massive trunk and expansive branches, he watched the current chief’s good-looking wife exit her front door. She suddenly stopped and turned her head in his direction.
With dark clothing on, he knew she couldn’t see him behind the huge gnarled branches. Some of the thick limbs even touched the ground, concealing him further. There was the chance she’d seen him wearing his mask when that freakin’ Berthelot ran into the street. He’d deal with that possibility later. He certainly noticed her. His heartbeat sped up.
Apparently right now she had decided she hadn’t seen anything and resumed her hurried walk across the yard toward the sheriff’s house. He smothered a laugh. Here he was right in the front yard of Allemand Parish’s two big-shot cops in broad daylight. What a coup. But he’d better leave before someone did discover him.
I’ve got to be more careful. Get caught hanging around in this neighborhood and everything will be over.
For a few more minutes, he watched the woman as she stood on the front porch waiting for someone to come to the door. Nice body. Word was she came from an old money family in New Orleans. What he wouldn’t give to have a woman like her in his bed. Hell, it had been a long time since he had any woman in his bed who wasn’t a street walker. And even the prostitutes were a long time ago.
~ * ~
Susan’s expression when she returned said it all. Jim knew right away Rachel had agreed to go into New Orleans for a visit to the psychic.
“Rachel said she’d be happy to go with me.”
“I could tell.” He didn’t know whether to be glad she wouldn’t be on her own or to treat himself to a stiff drink.
She gave him a fake pout. “You don’t have to act so thrilled about it.”
“I’m worried about you getting into trouble, that’s all.”
“How can I get into trouble? Rachel will be there to keep me in line.”
“When are y’all going?”
“Monday, if I can schedule an appointment with Taylor Evans.” She put her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I know.” He narrowed his gaze to her upturned face. “Somehow I get the impression you and Rachel are a lot alike in spite of the big age difference. That’s what worries me.”
“Well, she did say she thought about asking me for the psychic’s name to find out the meaning of the tarot card,” she teased.
“Hmm. I’ll have to have a talk with Danny about keeping you women on shorter leashes,” he said, keeping his tone light.
“We’ll see about that.”
Jim kissed her on the lips and headed for the door. “I’ll give you a call later.”
She smiled. “There’ll be supper to warm up in the oven if you’re too late.”
He gave her a feigned irritated look. “I seriously doubt you’ll be asleep when I get back.”
“I know how you are. Once you get started investigating, you can’t quit.”
Jim arched a brow. “I thought non-stop investigation was your forte.”
Susan picked up a small red pillow from the sofa and threw it at him. “You’d better leave while you’re ahead.” She tried to keep from smiling, but didn’t quite succeed.
“I’m going.” He blew her a kiss and scooted out the door before she sent another pillow sailing at him.
On the drive to the police station, Jim thought back to the conversation, or rather, argument with Susan about her visit to the psychic. He couldn’t help believing she would eventually get more involved. And he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe if she ever got one of her novels published, she’d forget about real life mysteries and concentrate on being an arm chair detective. Solving a murder on the pages of a book, she would be less likely to get into trouble. Not to mention putting his mind at ease.
Arriving at the station, he pulled into his designated parking spot in front of city hall and went inside. The musty smell of the forty-five year old building greeted him as he strode down the hallway to his office.
Officer Jack LeBlanc, a ten year veteran of the Cypress Lake Police Department, sat behind a desk in the outer office, leafing through a magazine. He looked up with a surprised expression when Jim neared his desk. “I didn’t expect you back this afternoon, Chief.”
“I need to work on the Teddy Berthelot homicide case.” A frown creased his forehead. “With such a high profile case hanging over my head, why are you surprised?”
He shrugged. “No reason. I keep forgetting nothing is the same since you took office.” At Jim’s confused look, he expanded on his remark. “I didn’t mean that as a criticism. It’s just that I’m not sure Tank Hebert would miss an evening at home over the likes of Berthelot.” He referred to the former chief of police who had not been reappointed when the new mayor, Jim’s childhood friend, had taken office seven years ago.
“Why not? One of the most prominent men in the parish gets murdered and he wouldn’t do everything he could to bring the killer to justice?”
LeBlanc gave a sheepish grin. “Well, not in the literal sense. Let’s put it this way. I doubt he’d be down here working. He’d be delegating right and left from the comfort of home. Besides he couldn’t stand Teddy Berthelot. At least he claimed he couldn’t stand him. He’d probably want to hang the murder on one of Teddy’s own family. Although, he was pretty fond of Teddy’s sister.”
Jim was aware of what amounted to a family feud, but hadn’t thought about what the significance might mean to his case. A while back, his friend Bill Kaufman, the mayor, had filled him in on some of the events leading up to the bad blood between the Heberts and the Berthelots—a murder and a Louisiana version of Romeo and Juliet. The two families ended up in a similar, but milder situation as the famous Hatfields and the McCoys. Hell, this added more people to the growing list of suspects or at least, one other person of interest.
