by Ali Vali
“I’m fine, and yes. Send them, but I’ve got to go.”
She stood there twenty minutes, but the car didn’t move. The guy seemed like someone she should know, but nothing came to mind. “I’m either paranoid, or this writer’s block is making me crazy,” she said out loud. “Only one way to prove it.”
She threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, placing her wallet in her pocket. Her father hadn’t taken the car, which gave her an excuse to drive to the market for supplies. When she got downstairs she followed her routine of using the side entrance, which led to the parking space, and noticed that the SUV was perfectly parked to see both the lot and the front door.
The traffic wasn’t bad getting out, but she took her time, not wanting to lose the tail, if that’s what it was. She clicked her blinker on and turned at the corner, and surprisingly the vehicles didn’t move. For the rest of the trip she checked the rearview without trying to appear obvious, but no one was following her.
“I’m losing my shit,” she berated herself, yet still glanced behind her.
It was time to call Larry and see if she was a target of something. What, she had no idea, but perhaps she’d pushed Sept Savoie too far.
“If this is your doing, you’re going to pay.”
* * *
“What do you think?” Sept asked Estella Mendoza as the voodoo shop owner held the statue of Cosme with gloves on.
“I’m not an antiques dealer, but these look really old. If someone used them for an altar for Ibeji, they gave up something precious. Usually the orisha dolls are something like African primitives holding drums. That’s true especially now that Cosme and Damain are hard to find.”
“There was another altar next to these two,” Sept said as the tech placed the statue back in the evidence bag. “Any idea what it was for?”
“What was in it?” Estella stripped her gloves off and followed her outside.
“It was empty, which is why Julio had no idea.” The sun was bright, warming up the afternoon to the point she’d taken her jacket off.
“Do you mind if I ask Matilda? Maybe between the two of us we can think of something.”
“Thanks, Estella.” Sept walked Estella to her car and opened her door for her.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Sept went back inside to George’s office and picked up the statues without taking them out of the bag. Both were solid wood and hand painted, so they didn’t have a hollow for a note. It was the only scene without one, not counting the one they’d found in Rosario’s car.
“What are you thinking?” Nathan asked.
“You heard her—they’re old, so let’s have them checked out.” She found Della in her contacts and asked her for a good dealer that’d get them more information. The guy Della recommended and promised to call arrived twenty minutes later, ready to help.
“Della’s a good woman to know,” Nathan said and laughed.
“Bernard Rosemount, and I agree, as long as you don’t piss her off,” Bernard said. “I’m more versed in art pieces, but I’ll take a look and recommend someone if necessary.”
Sept handed him some gloves and showed him the pieces. He took a magnifying glass out of his pocket and studied both of them like he’d have to take a written test when he was done. “Anything you can tell me?” she asked after ten minutes of silence.
“Do you mind if I make a call? I’ll do it on speaker. That way you can follow along, but I’ll ask the questions.”
“Go ahead.”
Bernard called a religious-artifact dealer in New York, who immediately demanded pictures. After he promised not to share them, Nathan took some shots and texted them to the guy.
“Detective,” the dealer said after a long stretch of silence, “I’m not sure where you got these, but they’re exquisite. I’d say they’re around six hundred years old, but I might be off since I haven’t handled them. I’ll check around, and if they were purchased at auction, I can get you the buyer’s name.”
“Thank you, and our contact info was attached to the pictures,” she said, thanking Bernard as well. “That might actually lead somewhere, but why leave something like that at a crime scene? They’re obviously valuable.”
“I’d say it’s a gift to the gods, but that’s bullshit,” Nathan said.
“Never heard of these saints, but the one orisha with no path might actually lead us somewhere.”
Their next stop was central lockup, and she smiled when the guard led Larry in, holding his way-too-large pants while he shuffled in with leg irons. His bruises had turned deep purple, which clashed with his orange prison garb. “Hey, Larry, good news,” she said, and he glared at her. “I got Chief Jernigan to start your termination papers, and as soon as they go through, you can get out of your cell.”
“It’s about damn time. I want my rep.”
“I’m so glad you’re ready to join the general population,” Nathan said, playing along.
“What are you talking about?” Larry tried to raise his hands, but the cuffs kept them by his waist.
“You asked for a rep and clammed up, and that’s going to cost you your job. If you’re let go, there’s no reason to keep you separated. You’re going into a regular cell.”
“Sept, come on. You can’t do that,” Larry said, scooting his chair closer to the table. “I’ll be dead by morning.”
“Sucks to be you,” Nathan said.
“You sold information to someone who shouldn’t have had it. From the beginning of these cases, someone’s been trying to kill me.” She spread her hands and cocked her head to the side. “How do I know you aren’t helping someone try to kill me and my partner? Three cops are dead, so why should I give a crap about you?” She stood up, and Nathan followed her to the door.
“Wait,” Larry shouted and tried to turn around. “Just wait.”
“You know what I want to hear.”
“I waive my right to counsel, so ask me whatever you want.”
Sept turned around and stared at him. “You fuck with me more than you have already, and not only will I turn you over to the mob, but I’ll introduce you.” He nodded but appeared ready to cry. “What exactly did you turn over to Nicole Voles or her father?”
“She wanted the whole case file to get an idea of Perlis’s MO. She said she needed it for the book, and she was willing to pay. The storm really screwed me, so I needed the money.”
“But that’s not all, is it?” she asked, and Larry started rocking.
“That’s it—I swear.”
Nathan placed a small recorder on the table and turned it on. The conversation with Brian and Nicole played, and when Larry started to say something, she pointed at him to keep him quiet. She made him listen to it all the way to the end. The button clicked off, and she held her hand up again.
“That doesn’t sound like that was it.”
“She wanted your notes. For some reason she thought something was buried in them that she could use.”
“Okay,” she said and smiled. “One more thing.”
“What? I don’t have anything else.”
“But I do. Something about the night you were injured in that bombing that hasn’t set right with me. To satisfy my curiosity I pulled your phone records. You didn’t mention getting a call from a blocked number right before you said those bombs went off. What was that about?”
Larry started to cry, and she wasn’t moved. “I don’t know who it was, but they told me to run.”
“Was it a woman?” she asked, exhaling. “That’s an easy yes or no.”
“It could have been either. They sounded like a machine.” Larry pressed his arms against his side and kept crying. “I didn’t say anything because you’d think I was in on it, and none of that shit was me.”
“The fact that you wear a badge pisses me off, and now would be a good time to tell me whatever you’ve got.” The show of emotion Larry displayed was sickening, but he had something she needed, so she’d keep his head above water f
or now. “I’ll talk to Fritz to keep you in protective custody, but you might have to call Voles for me. Refuse, and I’m not going to be on your side.”
The guards practically had to drag Larry out. What he’d said about her notes caught Sept’s attention the most. What could be hidden in them? A book was one thing, but Nicole wanted something much more.
“What are you thinking?” Sept asked.
“I’m glad that piece of shit is getting fired.”
“Eventually he will, but I bent the truth a little,” she said and winked. “Larry doesn’t get the truth just yet.”
Sept spent the rest of the afternoon in the conference room putting the pieces together and finally thought she’d figured out the thing Nicole wanted most. “Delivery for you, Sept,” Lourdes said, dropping an envelope on her desk.
The large yellow envelope had only her name on it. “How’d this get here?”
“One of the bicycle couriers in town,” Lourdes said.
“Get George here, and tell him to hurry.” This had to be the note she didn’t receive at the last crime scene.
The envelope went into an evidence bag, and Sept sat in the conference room and stared at the board where all the information from each scene was written. She wanted to read the note, but an idea was starting to take root.
George arrived, and she was surprised to see Jennifer with him. “Believe me, I wanted to stay home, but Chloe and my mother made me come to work,” Jennifer said.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s alive, and that makes everything manageable. I have you to thank for that, and I’ll never forget it.”
“You don’t owe me anything, but I’m here for both of you.”
“Yes, I do. Chloe’s pregnant, and losing her would’ve killed me.”
“Congratulations. I’m so happy for you both.”
George smiled at her and sliced the envelope open, taking the paper inside out with gloves and tweezers. “You were right. It’s another note.”
You have played a good game.
You were so close.
You were a good opponent.
The game is now done.
We will never meet.
You will be the one who lives.
But what kind of life will it be when you question if I’m really gone?
The day you know the truth will be your last.
My happiness will come when I see you most days, and you’ll look right through me.
“Do you think they put a lot of thought into these?” George asked.
“It’s supposed to strike fear in all of us, but really it’s just irritating,” she said, and she read it again. “She’s leaving, but not really, since she’ll see me most days.”
“She’s talking in circles,” Nathan said.
“Not really, but it’s a clue I’ve got to check out now.”
“Are you sure?” Nathan asked.
“I’ll be okay. Believe me. I’m not headed into a dark alley by myself.”
She made a call on the way out and headed for the hospital. Carla was in an office she shared with two other doctors and smiled when she knocked. “Thanks for seeing me,” she said, sitting after Carla did.
“Are you hurt?” Carla asked, leaning back in the office chair.
“No. I’m fine, but I’ve got some questions for you.” She opened her notebook and glanced down at the list she’d made. “Did you leave the hospital last night for anything?”
“What’s this about?” Carla lost her smile and dropped her feet to the ground. “Do I need an attorney?”
“That’s your choice, but I’m not trying to trick you.”
“I was here all night covering in the ER. You can check if you don’t believe me.”
“Do you have access to this?” She showed Carla the sedative used in the ritualistic murders.
“I have access to a lot of things, Sept, and I don’t care for this line of questioning. Where are you going with this?” Carla’s voice and volume never changed.
“The direction is a solution to what I’m working on, and it’s important.”
“I understand you’re under a lot of pressure because of the stuff you’re working on, but I doubt you’ll find the answers here or with me.” Carla tapped her fingers on the desk and kept eye contact with her. “I realize the girls don’t care for me, but don’t you think this is extreme?”
“Extreme describes the scenes I’ve been investigating, and trust me, this is me being straightforward. I can do asshole if you want.”
“I’d prefer the Sept I usually meet at dinner.”
“Maybe later, but right this minute we’ve got a problem.” She closed the notebook, but she already knew the answers to what she had left. “Have you been in contact with anyone or any business in New York in the last two months?”
“New York? You’ve seen me almost every day for months. I think Melinda and the rest of you would’ve noticed me gone.”
“Actually, I do remember the conference you attended to present some paper. Melinda was happy for you.” She took her phone out and opened the text message Bernard had sent her. “The same two days you were there, you did a little shopping.”
Carla stared at her like she was totally making no sense. “I bought Melinda a little something. Is that a crime?”
“You also bought these.” She handed her phone over and showed Carla the invoice for the Cosme and Damain statues. “That’s an impressive amount of money.”
“Who the hell are Cosme and Damain?”
“Third-century talented doctors who died martyrs.”
“I have no idea what this about.” Carla resembled an oscillating fan looking between her and the phone. “There’s no way I’d spend that much money on these…what you’re saying are religious icons.”
“This is your name, I assume your account information, and you were in New York when the purchase was made.”
“I don’t pay my own bills. My accountant does that. Since I was in the city, she probably thought I’d made the purchase. I’m telling you I didn’t do it, but what’s the big deal? Are these highly expensive religious statues stolen or something?”
“No, but when they’re left at the scene of a double homicide, it piques our interest.”
Carla’s reaction seemed genuine, but the profilers had said their suspect was a psychopath. Such people were usually missing normal emotions, so the truly talented ones learned to be chameleons. At the moment, Carla appeared deflated as she sat back with her body totally slack. “You honestly think I killed two people?” Carla asked, finally showing some fear.
“I’m not accusing you of anything, and it’s not two people but twelve. That puts my suspect in a category we don’t usually encounter.” She stared at Carla, and Carla broke first and dropped her head. “I’m investigating a crime, and the clues led me here. If you think who you are and who you’re with means I’ll ignore that, you don’t know me.”
“If you think I did any of this, then you don’t know me. I’ve spent my life trying to preserve life, not take it.”
“I need you to come in voluntarily and answer some more questions, and I hope you take me up on that offer. The fury over this case doesn’t give me any choice but to take you in.”
“Will you think less of me if I bring an attorney?”
“Not at all—I actually recommend it.” Sept took her phone back and stood, not anticipating that Carla would give her any problems. “Just remember that the truth here really is the key to your freedom.”
Chapter Thirty-three
The team working in the conference room quieted when Sept and Carla entered. Sept escorted her into the empty office they’d been using and told her they’d wait for her attorney before they began. Nathan appeared as shocked by the development as Carla had been, but it had to be done.
“Come get me when her attorney shows up, but I have to make a call,” she told Nathan and Gustave. She wasn’t relishing this, but a warning to Keegan was in order.
“Sunday at your house should be interesting,” Gustave said, shaking his head. “Are you sure about this?”
“Nathan, check and see if Bernard sent a copy of a receipt he texted me, and I’m not sure about anything,” she said to her brother. “But I have to do my job.”
She walked out to the courtyard some of the support staff used for cigarette and lunch breaks, glad it was empty. “Hey, love,” she said when Keegan answered in that tone that sounded like pure happiness. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you I have all the minutes you need, and if you’re free for lunch, come by and eat some duck.”
“Any special reason I want to do that?” She smiled, enjoying the conversation before she dropped a bomb on Keegan’s day.
“I’m swimming in duck, so you can have it three different ways. We had a mix-up in our order, so the suppliers gave me the surplus instead of wasting it. If you’re not in the mood for duck, work your way up to it by Sunday. That’s what we’re having.”
“Put your knife down and listen to me. And believe me, I’d much rather keep talking about duck.”
Keegan’s end grew much quieter, which probably meant she’d stepped into her office. “Hey, Jacqueline, could you give us a minute?”
“Actually, could you put me on speaker, since it really affects all of us?”
“Do you remember how you promised not to freak me out any more? It’s not working.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I finally got a clue that led me somewhere,” she said as she cocked her head back and enjoyed the sun on her face. “Or should I say led me to someone.”
“That’s fantastic, no?” Keegan asked.
“That depends, I guess, because we all know who I have upstairs in an interrogation room.”
“Are you trying to be dramatic or annoying?” Jacqueline asked.
“It’s Carla.” Like with a bandage, ripping it off fast was the way to go.
“Mom’s Carla?” Jacqueline and Keegan asked together.
“That’s her.” She sighed, knowing the day would only go downhill from here.
“Honey, what the hell happened? She’s not our favorite, but I doubt she’s a serial killer.” Keegan wasn’t pissed yet, but she was working up to it, from the pitch of her voice.
