Mardi Gras Gris Gris

by A. C. Mason

  When Jim surveyed the crowd again; Hymel had disappeared. He checked his watch and noted the time—6:55—almost time for the parade to roll. However, Mardi Gras parades hardly ever started on time.

  Every year the theme of this parade revolved around current news events, both local and national, and depicted those incidents in a satirical manner. The floats, many of which were flatbed trucks, were decked out with tongue-in-cheek and bawdy signs sporting slogans mocking Louisiana politicians, members of the U.S. Congress, and deriding other political figures or celebrities who had made the news during the past year. Tonight the theme concerned infamous actors and singers.

  Danny strolled up beside him. “We already had a float breakdown up near the start.”

  “That must be what my officer asked about. He and one of your men took off to handle things.”

  “Yeah, I ran into them on the way here. I hope float trouble is the only problem we have tonight.”

  At 7:20, two Beau Chen PD units rolled down Oak Avenue past Jim and Danny with lights flashing and sirens blaring. The two units were followed by another BCPD unit driven by Chief Mike Celestine, who waved to the crowd. A short time later a local flag and drum corps marched forward and the first float appeared about a block away.

  “Only twenty minutes late,” Jim commented. “That must be a record.”

  Danny laughed. “I believe so.”

  Float after float rolled down the street with the riders showering the onlookers with beads and other trinkets. Standing behind the spectators, Jim managed to catch a whole pack of necklaces with the seal still in place. He broke the paper band and handed some of the beads to three nearby children perched on their homemade ladder stands and saved the remainder for the twins.

  The parade came to a standstill as a large float up ahead attempted to turn a corner. Music from the sound systems on other floats blared out Mardi Gras tunes, enticing the crowd to clap and dance to the famous second-line beat. Marching in place behind a colorful float, drummers with the Beau Chene High School band kept the spectators stirred up to a fever pitch.

  This particular tableau mocked young female Hollywood personalities who were continuously being sentenced to jail time of a few months, but who managed to be released after only a few days. The depiction of a revolving door as the entrance to the California jail drew a smile from both Jim and Danny.

  A woman float rider bedecked in a gold lame costume tossed a string of large purple beads in Danny’s direction. He caught the trinket easily thanks to his height, simply by raising his hand in the air. The woman gave him a thumbs up and a big smile as he placed the necklace around his neck.

  An hour later, the last float rolled past. Danny received word via his radio that the first float was just pulling up at the end location.

  “Looks like we might catch a break tonight,” Jim said, walking alongside Danny.

  “So far, so good.” Danny kept his eyes on the last float turning onto North Main Street. The fire truck intermittently blasted its horn and the street sweeper crept along behind the float. “We didn’t even need to break up a drunken brawl.”

  “That’s not the usual routine for this parade.”

  “I hate to say this and jinx us,” Danny said. “Maybe we dodged the bullet this year.”

  “Yeah, everyone behaved. Too bad we couldn’t have had this yesterday.”

  ~ * ~

  At 9:00 pm on the dot, George King, pharmacist and store owner, closed the back door of his Beau Chene establishment and set down the trash bag he was carrying. He breathed a sigh of relief as he locked up the store for the night. He fumbled in his pockets for his car keys. Thank goodness this day is over. He normally closed up at six on Sunday, but tonight he stayed open later because of the big parade. Business had slowed to a trickle by 8:30 so he let his employees leave.

  The metal sign on a pole in front of the store swayed on its rod in the breeze and made an ominous screech. George peered around the side and gazed up at the sign. His father had paid a pretty penny back in the day to have the crown above the K painted in gold metallic paint, and he had meticulously called out painters to refurbish the sign whenever it needed a touch-up.

  George hadn’t taken such good care of the place for the last few years since his wife passed away. A twinge of guilt filtered through him. Evelyn would have been disappointed in him.

  I should at least get the damn hinges on the sign oiled so it won’t make such a racket every time the wind blows, he thought. He would deal with that task another day. He was tired and more than ready to head for home. He picked up the trash bag and started toward the dumpster at the rear of the store.

  One of his two part-time employees hadn’t shown up this afternoon. The boy probably had gone off to New Orleans to take in one of the parades there and didn’t bother to even call in sick. The short staff, coupled with the heavy crowd of Beau Chene parade-goers and people from other parts of the parish in the store buying snacks and soft drinks, made for an exhausting day.

  The Mardi Gras crowd had invaded his store tonight. In his eighty-year-old mind, only a thin line separated the shoplifters from the legitimate customers. Maybe it was time for him to retire. But then his regular customers would have to take their business to one of the chain stores.

  They’d all told him over and over how much they enjoyed the personal service at his store and how upset they would be if he closed up. George chuckled to himself at the thought of Mildred Burgoyne sashaying into Sav-Aid and demanding a refill of her high blood pressure pills when she had no refills left without her doctor’s okay.

  He stepped up to the dumpster and tossed the bag inside. On the ground he noticed a shoe sticking out from the side of the bin. Upon further investigation, he realized the shoe was attached to a man, the upper half of his body hidden in the shadows. Damn drunk’s probably passed out cold. Now he’d have to wait until the cops arrived to haul the guy off before he could leave.

  Bending over, George grabbed the man’s foot and jiggled it. “Hey mister, get up… Oh, God Almighty!”

  ~ * ~

  The rotating red and blue lights from police units and emergency vehicles cast their colors over the parking lot behind King’s Drug Store as if a spinning disco ball hung in the air above the scene. Jim, Danny, and Mike Celestine stood watching the coroner complete his examination. A crowd of officers from various law enforcement agencies milled around behind the crime scene tape boundary.

  A large hunting knife protruded from the man’s chest and a small white drawstring bag hung around the handle of the murder weapon. Blood saturated the front of his white shirt. The rubber mask over his face made the scene equally as grotesque as the first murder.

  “Déjà vu,” Danny mumbled.

  Celestine ran his hand over his crew cut. His gray hair seemed a sharp contrast to his youthful face. “Man, I am not believing this.” Without turning his eyes away from the crime scene, he stated without emotion, “We must have a serial killer loose in the parish.”

  “It’s beginning to look like it,” Jim said in a low voice. “Two with the same MO—each one after a parade.” He half remembered an offhand remark about hoping there wasn’t another murder. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. There aren’t any more parades scheduled here, so unless he’s going to head for New Orleans to make another kill, he’ll either have to wait until next year or change his method of operation.”

  “If I’d known there would be another killing, I’d have canceled this parade for sure,” Mike remarked.

  “There’s no way you could’ve known,” Danny said.

  From his position next to the body, Dr. Hadley looked up at the stoic trio. “As you know by now the victim is David Edwards. His death appears to be by the same method as your first one—stab wound to the chest. According to my rough calculations, he’s been dead for about an hour or so.” He redirected his gaze to the body for a moment. “I sure didn’t think I would be called out for a second day in a row for a murder.
Hopefully there won’t be a number three.”

  “Don’t even go there,” Jim said.

  The doctor’s expression betrayed his frustration. “Sorry, that was better left unsaid. I pray I haven’t jinxed us.” He signaled the awaiting men to move in with the gurney and remove the body. “The autopsy report will be completed as soon as possible. I’m going to call in a favor and see if Orleans can make our two homicides a priority.”

  “Thanks Doc,” Celestine said.

  The three fell silent as two Coroner’s Office employees loaded the body onto a gurney and rolled the cart to the van. Dr. Hadley followed them to his own vehicle and drove away.

  “Where’s the old gentleman who discovered the body?” Jim asked, surveying the area.

  “Mr. King was pretty upset,” Celestine replied. “Since he’s up in age, we sent him to the hospital as a precaution. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  “Let me know if he comes up with anything of value,” Danny said. “So far we don’t have a good piece of evidence from Berthelot’s murder.”

  Celestine appeared concerned. “Nothing? Not even fingerprints on the weapon?”

  Danny frowned. “Not from the killer. Looks like Teddy reached for the knife. We’re hoping the killer cut himself and his blood would be mixed in with the victim’s. A blood sample from the knife was sent to the State Police Crime Lab for analysis.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and either pick up prints or DNA from the killer. At least we didn’t have people trampling all over this scene.”

  Jim and Danny murmured in agreement.

  “Who knows…our subject may have slipped up and left a print we can use,” Jim said.

  “Hope you’re right,” Celestine said. “Thanks, both of y’all, for helping out over here tonight. I appreciate it.” He extended his hand to Jim.

  Jim shook his counterpart’s hand. “No problem.”

  Danny slapped Celestine on the back. “I’ll get back with you sometime tomorrow to see if you came up with any clues that might lead to the killer’s identity.”

  “Good deal,” he said. “Now I have to go give Edwards’ wife the bad news.”

  “Not pleasant duty at all,” Danny said.

  “One of the worst.” Celestine’s voice sounded grim. “Luckily one I hardly ever have to perform, at least not for a murder anyway.”

  Nine

  February 18

  Monday morning six a. m. on the dot, the alarm clock buzzed. I groaned and punched the snooze button. Maybe I could doze for a few more minutes. Rolling over, I covered my head with the blanket.

  I usually get out of bed without delay, especially on a school day. Today I stalled. Could the reason be the upcoming visit to the psychic? Perhaps stirring up bad memories was not a good idea. No, I simply needed to let go of the past and move on. This visit was not personal.

  Someone tugged on the bed covers. Matthew’s voice confirmed my suspicions about the identity of the someone.

  “Mom, isn’t today Loonnie Gras?” He meant Lundi Gras—Fat Monday.

  Caroline chimed in. “Do we have to go to school?”

  Katy decided to turn the event into a trio with her feline voice. Meowing loudly, the cat jumped onto the bed and poked me on the cheek with her cold wet nose.

  Wide awake, I laughed and turned to my son. “Matthew baby, Lundi Gras is not until next Monday, the day before Mardi Gras Day. Both of you, go back to your rooms and start getting your clothes together for school. I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”

  The kids grumbled all the way out of the room.

  The aroma of fresh coffee brewing wafted in from the kitchen. What would I do without Jim?

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slipped my feet into the fuzzy slippers on the floor. Shrugging into a terry cloth robe, I followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen.

  I poured a mug full of the brew, stirred in milk and sugar, and took a seat at the breakfast bar next to Jim.

  “Honey, why don’t you come with us to see Taylor Evans?” I asked.

  “I can’t believe you want me along, skeptic that I am.”

  “I have an ulterior motive.” I batted my eyelashes in theatrical fashion, hoping to soften him up with my antics.

  “Ah, ha. I should’ve known.” He laughed, but eyed me with suspicion. “Okay, out with it.”

  “We need a photo or some object related to the crime, something she can touch to get psychic energy.”

  He frowned. “I thought you were only going to ask her about the meaning of the tarot card.”

  “True, but I want to get her take on the idea behind the killer leaving the gris-gris bag on the body…bodies.” I grimaced. “Since last night’s murder was more of the same, I thought perhaps you could show her the photo of the bags’ contents.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, but I have witnesses to interview and other things to take care of.”

  “Will you let me take the photos?” I held my breath.

  “I can’t do that. Those photos aren’t supposed to leave police custody. Maybe…just maybe you can have a copy.”

  “Taylor would need the original photo to get the energy.” With hands on my hips, I stared at him. “Besides, who’s going to know?”

  “I will,” he said with a stern tone.

  I shot him an irritated look. “You just don’t want me to get further involved in this, do you?”

  “Honestly, no I don’t.”

  “What harm could it do to ask her about the other items?”

  “You can ask her about the other items. I have no problem with that, but you can’t take the photo.”

  I wanted to argue, but Jim’s cell phone rang. He answered without bothering to check the caller ID. She listened to his side of the conversation.

  “Danny, what’s up…exactly the same? … There weren’t any viable prints on the knife this time either… I was afraid of that… Do you have a photo of the second bag?… Yeah, I’m going in to my office shortly to hold a staff meeting… Sounds like a good idea… you’ll contact Mike? …We’ll join you later.” He disconnected and turned toward me. “What time are you planning to go to the city?”

  “Our appointment is for ten.” Although curious about the phone call, I didn’t ask about his intriguing statements. I waited for him to speak.

  Jim pursed his lips and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Okay, this is what I’m going to do. Hopefully I won’t regret this.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll make a copy…”

  “A copy?” Exasperated, I lifted both hands in the air. “I told you she’ll need the original.”

  “Will you let me finish?”

  I closed her eyes briefly. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

  “As I was saying, I’ll make a copy and, against my better judgment, I’ll let you take the original.”

  I stood speechless for a moment, a measure of shame creeping over me. I stepped closer and gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry. Thank you for letting me do this.”

  “Just be careful and don’t try to go off on your own to investigate.”

  “I won’t. There isn’t anything to investigate on my own. Rachel and I will give you a full report on everything she tells us.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “I know you’re worried about a repeat performance of my quest to prove Steven didn’t kill his wife.” I again waited for him to respond.

  “No, I’m not…” He let out a long breath. “Hell yes I am. Can you blame me?”

  “Jim, this is completely different from that situation. I don’t have a personal connection to either of these victims. I’m not going to go out and chase down the suspects.”

  “I still worry about you. That night when I heard all those shots from inside the apartment you were in, I expected to find you dead. Do you realize how terrifying that was for me?”

  “I was quite terrified myself.” I held up my hands in defense. “Sorry. I didn�
��t mean to be sarcastic. Look at it this way…by researching the gris-gris bags’ contents, Rachel and I are freeing you and Danny up to do more important things.”

  He gave a reluctant smile. “So you ladies are doing some of the grunt work.”

  I laughed. “Call it what you will. You didn’t really want to go to New Orleans anyway, did you?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  I stood on tiptoes and put my arms around his neck. “Listen, you, I love you and our babies and I’m not going to do anything crazy to get in trouble.”

  “I sure hope you don’t get in trouble.” He leaned toward me and placed a kiss on my nose.

  A duet of wails coming from the bedrooms interrupted our tender moment.

  “You can’t have my pencil,” Caroline shouted.

  “It’s mine,” Matthew came back. “Not yours!”

  “Speaking of trouble,” Jim said in a teasing tone.

  “Double trouble.”

  I left the comfort of his embrace and started for the twins’ bedrooms. Jim followed close behind.

  ~ * ~

  An hour later, Jim strolled up the sidewalk to the entrance of City Hall. He started to reach for the door when he heard a familiar voice calling him. Turning, he saw Danny and Mike Celestine walking briskly toward him.

  “I invited my chief detective to participate,” Danny said. “He’s on his way.”

  “One of my detectives should also be here shortly,” Celestine added.

  “Great, we should have a good crew for the task force.” Jim opened the door and stepped inside. The two other men followed him down the hall toward the Cypress Lake squad room.

  “Listen, I’m going to visit our friend Carl Hymel after the meeting,” Danny said as they entered the room.

  “Good deal.” Jim explained to Mike Celestine the reason for visiting Hymel. “His demeanor at Berthelot’s crime scene could be a dead end, but it’s worth a shot.”

  Mike agreed. “That poor sucker. I wonder if Hymel will ever quit running for office.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Surveying the room, Jim noticed one of his six man squad missing. “Where’s Wallace?”