by C J Murphy
“Well I can dream, can’t I? I still think you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Aggie placed her hands on each side of Noeul’s face, leaned down, and kissed her. “You still have a clue to figure out. We’re close, but we aren’t there yet. I brought you to San Antonio because I’ve always wanted to see The Alamo.”
Noeul wrapped her arms around the strong shoulders of her gorgeous wife. Aggie’s wavy hair fell into her eyes, and Noeul ran her fingers through it. “You’re such a tease.”
Aggie rose up and pulled her red-checkered flannel shirt out of her jeans, exposing the washboard abs that lay hidden beneath the soft material. Noeul reached up and unbuttoned the shirt until she could run a single finger over the defined muscles. Aggie lowered her body until she lay pressed against Noeul. “About that mind willing quip.” Noeul nipped at the chin near her lips.
Aggie rocked her knee, “Yes?”
Noeul slid her hand between them and cupped Aggie through her jeans. She smiled as her lover’s head fell to her shoulder and her breath hitched in. Her tongue found Aggie’s ear and traced the edge, dipping inside. She smiled at the delicious groan Aggie emitted and shared the shiver from the body she held close.
Aggie rose above her, pulled her shirt the rest of the way off, and helped Noeul to sit up and remove hers. Clothes became unnecessary barriers that were soon discarded, as two hungry mouths met, and hands explored sensitive skin. This was a dance they’d performed hundreds, maybe thousands of times. Their bodies rose and fell, arched and bent, into the ultimate submission.
Noeul lay beneath her lover, legs wrapped around the strong thighs as their bodies became one. Fingers teased and claimed possession of the deepest parts of her. Aggie’s touch never failed to bring her right to the edge. Noeul searched the blue eyes that held her captive, as she used blunt nails to scratch down Aggie’s back and urge her to take what Noeul was desperate to give. She felt her heart pound in her chest, as she spiraled closer and closer to the moment of ecstasy. She focused on those penetrating eyes, so dilated she could stare directly into Aggie’s soul. A silken voice called to her.
“Come for me, love.”
Aggie’s words were all she needed to slip over the edge and crash into oblivion. Her back arched off the bed, and her screams were smothered with a searing kiss, as Aggie tumbled with her against her thigh and drove Noeul straight through another soul-searing orgasm.
They lay spent and breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat. Aggie had yet to withdraw from her heat. Noeul knew if that touch was ever missing, the fire within her would surely go out. They lay for a long while, kissing softly and recovering from giving everything of themselves to the other.
“I love you, Aggie, with all I am.” Noeul nuzzled closer to the woman she loved, who slipped gently from inside her, rolled them over, and drew Noeul into her arms.
“I love you, Noeul. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll put your detective hat back on. You have clues to decipher.” Aggie kissed the top of her head as they drifted off.
The next morning, they’d showered together which led to another round of making love. Side by side, the two explored the city and eventually found a small café to have dinner. A brilliant red sunset captured their attention as they enjoyed drinks with a succulent meal. Their table was on the restaurant patio, surrounded by nets of tiny white lights and small glowing candles that flickered lazily in the evening air. Noeul held a few pieces of parchment paper in her hands.
She knew the paper wasn’t as ancient as it appeared. She smiled. Aggie’s gone all out to set the scene for me. The paper crinkled as she unfolded it and read through the next series of clues. “Okay, so this first cipher stands for the Coup of 18 Brumaire in November 1799 in France. After a bit of research into the subject, I found the answer to part two of the same cipher about who came to power when the directory was defeated. The answer, my love, is Napoleon.” She watched as Aggie sipped her whiskey and smiled.
“Okay, you’ve got that part. How about the next?” Aggie rolled her hand indicating for her to continue.
“I called Max and had him translate the binary code.”
“Hey, that’s cheating!”
“I don’t remember any rules to this game that strictly forbid me from phoning a friend. It translated to the numbers 15000000 and 828000. All on my own, I figured out that these two numbers represent largest land deal in American history, the Louisiana Purchase. A total of 828,000 acres were sold for $15 million dollars."
Aggie lightly clapped and tilted her head in acknowledgement. “How about the next one? Did you have to cheat on that too?"
“No, smart ass. I used an alphanumeric code related to a page, line, and word number of our book to reveal your question. Where was the surviving son of the Black Prince born? I had to uncover who the Black Prince was, first, in order to figure out who his son was. The Black Prince was Edward IV and his son, Richard II, was born in Bordeaux, France, nicknamed La Belle Endormie or sleeping beauty.”
“You know, you’re pretty twisted my love. My brain is on overload with all this sleuthing.” Noeul reached out and clasped her lover’s hand.
Aggie smiled back at her with that devilish grin and quirked her eyebrow. “That was the easy part. I am a bit devious. I have a pretty good idea you’re loving this adventure. You know it and I know it. Think of it as a way to keep your brain young and your spirit alive and well.”
Noeul picked up her wine and swirled the dark red liquid around before raising it to her lips. “You like to watch smoke pour out my ears.”
“Well, if that’s what it takes to make you hot, then I’ll keep your brain…” She wagged her eyebrows up and down. “busy for years to come.”
Noeul smacked Aggie’s arm and followed it up by pulling her hand to her lips. “I love you, you fool.”
“So what clue are you working on now?” Aggie took a pull on her Jameson’s.
“Well, I’ve worked out another code, giving me the name Alexandre Frédéric.” Noeul looked at a series of pictograms and a word. “The anchor tells me it’s something nautical. The cannon ball makes me believe it was a battleship. The French word barateur, roughly translated, means cheat. None of that makes a lot of sense until you read about Alexandre and two of his brothers, Jean and Pierre Lafitte. Jean is rather famous it seems. With the help of his…” She stopped, and her lips moved silently over each line. “oh my God—band of privateers. They were pirates who helped Andrew Jackson defeat the British in the War of 1812!” Her voice had risen a few octaves and was almost a squeal. Noeul looked up to see Aggie laughing at her. “What?”
Aggie smiled. “I love watching you turn into a little kid.”
“Well, you’ve turned this into a treasure hunt. What kid doesn’t dream of finding treasure?”
“Well, I found mine when I ran you down all those years ago.”
“Yeah, one of us is a bigger kid than the other.” Noeul leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek. “That honor belongs to you, a chuisle mo chroí.”
“You are the pulse of my heart too.” Aggie softly kissed her lips. “Why don’t we take this back to the room, so you can try your key in the treasure chest?”
“I’m all for that.”
They left the restaurant and walked back to their hotel, where Noeul worked out the remaining clues about the escapades of Jean Lafitte. Aggie finally handed her a pictogram of a fleur-de-lis and a crescent moon. Noeul had no doubt where they were going.
“Are we headed to New Orleans?” Noeul bounded over to straddle Aggie’s hips and look into eyes whose mischief swirled like smoke rising off a magical, smoldering fire
“You’re pretty good at this, babe. I hope you’re having fun, because I’m truly enjoying watching you.” Aggie ran her hands up Noeul’s sides and arched her hips, pushing their centers together.
Noeul closed her eyes and rolled her head back at the sensation. “God, I love when you do that.” Noeul felt hands drawing her down and soft lips meetin
g her own.
“Laissez les bon temps rouler, my love”.
“Let the good times roll, indeed.” Noeul rolled over to feel the secure weight of her wife above her, wrapping her in a haze of desire. They made love under a crescent moon before drifting off to sleep, arms and legs entangled.
***
Jordan held the phone to her ear, as she walked through the French Quarter talking to Dava. The smells of gumbo, beignets, and good coffee filled along the historic streets. She’d camped where she could on the way from California and was looking forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed.
“Have you checked into your hotel yet?” Dava asked.
“Not yet, it’s next on my list.” Together, they’d worked through the clues and discovered that she was headed for New Orleans. It was someplace she’d never been to. The lore of the crescent city was legendary. The French Quarter, Bourbon Street, and the madness of Madri Gras, all played into the magic of the city.
“Talk to me, Sherlock, do you have a plan for your next move?”
“I do. It involves a huge meal, a few beers, and something sinful.”
“Sinful, I like that plan. Not sure it’s going to bring you any closer to Professor Scott, but it’s a damn good plan.”
Jordan smiled at her sister’s statement of the obvious. “Me neither. I know I think better on a full stomach. I’ll call you later. Love you.”
A few hours later, she pushed back from her seat at Mother’s Restaurant on Poydras Street. Jordan looked over the remnants of her meal. A small piece of a Debris Po’boy sat beside an empty cup of gumbo. A different plate bore the ghost of some decadent bread pudding. She licked some whiskey sauce off her thumb and caught the waitress watching her.
“Can I get you anything? Refill your coffee maybe or…” She paused and arched an eyebrow. “something else you might need?”
“Thank you.” Jordan grinned at the attractive young woman. “Just my check please.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will.”
The server turned and swayed back to the bar before bringing her check and accepting the cash Jordan placed in the narrow, leather folder.
Finishing her chicory coffee, Jordan grinned and looked over the clues she’d written down. New Orleans was a huge city. All the things she’d deciphered on the Sequoia clue had led her here. Once again, she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell without some divine intervention. She thought about the whistle and the voice that had led her to the tree at the lake.
She’d had visions at Havasu, of great sequoias and the mystical phoenix. Her own phoenix burned, and Jordan could only hope for the guidance to continue in some form or another. She left the restaurant and walked to her Jeep. A few minutes later, she pulled into her hotel on Bourbon Street. She was fortunate that a vehicle was pulling away from the private lot, giving her the opportunity to snag one of the limited parking spaces. The clerk met her with a smile and an appraising glance that traveled down Jordan’s body from her eyes, to her waist, and back up.
“Welcome to Lafitte’s Guest House, may I help you?”
“Uh yes, reservation for Armstrong?” Jordan glanced around the small, ornate lobby. A steep staircase lined one wall and led to the upper floors.
A melodious voice coming from behind the reception desk caught Jordan’s attention. “You were lucky we had an opening. Most of the time, our rooms are booked. We’d had a last-minute cancellation when you called. I have you in room twenty-one. Unusual for that room to have a cancellation. Do you know anything about our history?” The receptionist raised her eyes above her tortoiseshell reading glasses and again, appreciatively eyed Jordan.
“I’ve read a bit about the paranormal activity here. I think it adds to the mystique.” Jordan smiled at her and watched, as she continued to type into the computer with long, delicate fingers tipped with dark, maroon polish.
“Well, Ms. Armstrong, I…”
“Jordan, if you please.”
The receptionist smiled seductively. “Jordan. That’s beautiful. My name is Angèle. Again, your room is number twenty-one and has a private balcony overlooking Bourbon Street. It’s our most infamous room, where more than one guest has reported, shall we say, unusual things.”
Jordan returned the smile and felt something like warm honey run through her chest. “Well, that would be nothing unusual in my life, of late.”
“Here’s your key. We serve a complimentary continental breakfast and coffee that’s worth waking up for. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask for me.”
Jordan accepted the key and didn’t fail to notice that Angèle’s hand lingered in hers a bit longer than necessary. She felt her heart speed up at the contact, and heat radiated off her. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jordan carried her duffle up the steep staircase to the second floor and located her room. The off -white, four-paneled, door was adorned with a brass twenty-one. To the left of the door, hung a large mirror surrounded by an ornate, dark, wooden frame. Jordan briefly gazed into the reflection, as she slid the key into the lock. She squinted at what she saw and quickly turned to look back down the empty hall. She turned back to the mirror looking for the young girl she’d caught a glimpse of. Nothing but her own reflection stared back at her. Jordan shook her head, as she pushed open the door and stepped into the room. As if this whole quest isn’t strange enough, now I’m seeing things that aren’t there.
A tall, four-poster bed greeted her, along with a few beautiful pieces of Queen Anne style furniture scattered around the room. Two walls revealed exposed brick. One, built with a double set of French doors, led out onto a wrought iron balcony. After depositing her duffle on the small settee, Jordan opened the glass paneled doors and walked out onto the terrace overlooking Bourbon Street, taking in the sounds of New Orleans. Jazz drifted up from below, along with the strong smell of whiskey. She briefly closed her eyes and wondered how in the world she was ever going to find her next clue.
A realization hit her that it had been over six months since she’d seen Dava in person, or her mother for that matter. Regardless of this quest, that must be rectified. Seeing family only at holidays was not how Jordan had grown up, and she wouldn’t allow it to continue. Regardless of where this quest went next, she was going to D.C. to visit her mother and sister.
Dava had her own apartment, and her mother had moved into the same neighborhood after the girls' father passed. Dalia had said she wanted to be closer to political resources. In reality, Dalia had confided in Jordan that she wanted to be near Dava in case she ever needed her. Jordan was proud of her sister’s independence. Still, any of spina bifida’s health complications could occasionally rear their head. It was not unusual for Dava to suffer from infections and serious gastrointestinal issues that warranted hospitalization.
Jordan worried less about Dava since their mother’s relocation. She’s my greatest confidant, smart ass or not. Jordan’s favorite role ever was being Dava’s big sister. Keyed up and anxious, she pulled her cellphone from her back pocket. A few moments later, Jordan found herself lost in her sister’s voice
“I’ll assume by the jazz I’m hearing in the background, you’ve made your way near some entertainment?”
“Yeah, you’d love it here. Live music in a ton of places and more delicious food than you can even imagine.” Jordan’s smile broadened. “You need to come down here with me sometime, maybe at Mardi Gras.”
Dava’s laughter rang through the phone. “JJ, I love you. A bunch of drunken people pissing in the street isn’t my cup of tea.”
“True. Watson, I can tell you there’s a lot more to the city. Right across the street from me is Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar. The bar is fabled to have been where Lafitte and his band of pirates had planned their operations. You remember from the clues that he helped General Andrew Jackson defeat the British in the War of 1812, saving the city. The blacksmith shop is alleged to be the oldest structure
in the United States used as a bar. How cool is that?” Jordan loved sharing parts of her adventure with her sister. Their thirst for knowledge was unquenchable.
“That is pretty cool. Have you been there yet? You can’t leave there without tipping one back in a famous setting like that.”
“I’ll probably wander over there after I relax a bit. I was on the road all day. I did have a fabulous supper, and you’ll be happy to know, the bread pudding is all it’s cracked up to be. The whiskey cream sauce is absolutely sinful.”
“Well, you are in a city known for it, enjoy. Now, are you any closer to knowing where the memorial is?”
Jordan puffed out her cheeks and let out a slow breath. “Not a clue. I’m hoping I can go back through everything we have and see if I missed anything. Other than that, I’m here on a wing and a prayer. The professors knew where they were going. I’m trying to follow the footsteps of someone who didn’t leave a very detailed map. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Say, I was thinking…”
“I thought I smelled smoke.”
“Very funny, Watson. I was thinking I’d make a run to D.C. after I get finished here.” Jordan rubbed her eyebrow with her thumb and forefinger.
“Sherlock, are you okay?”
“Just missing you. That a reason for alarm?”
Jordan heard Dava sigh.
“Big sister, you never need a reason to come and visit. You’re on an important mission, halfway across the country.”
Jordan began to pace across the balcony, phone to her ear. “I know. I can’t help it. I miss you, and nothing is more important than family. It’s been almost six months since I’ve seen you and Mom, and that’s too long.”
