Return of the Devil's Spawn

by John Moore

  I enjoyed the stroll, butthere were too many delicious smells wafting through the air from all the restaurants with their doors open. I soon felt furious hunger pangs. “Tom, can we go get something to eat?” I asked.

  “You bet we can. I have a surprise for you at the condo,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure which condo he was talking about, but I was too hungry to care. I did notice he didn’t have anything with him before we showered. He escorted me to our Bourbon Street home hand in hand like two high school kids on a date. It was charming. We took the elevator to the second floor. He walked me out to the balcony. It was the balcony where we’d consummated our relationship on Mardi Gras.

  At the end of the balcony, next to where we’d had sex our first time, he’d placed a small round cast-iron table with a white tablecloth draped across the top. Neatly arranged on the tablecloth were dinner settings for two with a bottle of wine in the middle of the table and a bottle of champagne cooling in a legged bucket beside the table. I breathed a deep breath looking at it all as he lit the two candles on the table. It was just perfect.

  He poured us each a glass of wine and said, “Let’s toast to our wonderful life together.”

  I sat at the table as he excused himself to retrieve the food. Tom had prepared crab cakes with hollandaise sauce as an entree. He had steamed asparagus to go along with it. We ate as we watched the tourists walk below. None looked up to notice us. We chatted about how far we’d come in the last few months and the excitement we shared about the farm in Indiana and the French Quarter condo. I felt so close to Tom. I didn’t think he’d ever done anything like tonight in his life. After seeing his mom and dad, I knew he was doing it for me, giving me a warm feeling inside. My family was taking shape.

  Tom stood and walked to my side of the table and took my hand. He lifted me up and kissed me passionately. We were standing in the exact place where we’d made love the first time. I was ready to do it again, when he dropped to one knee still holding on to my left hand with his right. He looked up into my eyes for a brief moment, and then reached in his pocket to take something out.

  “Alexandra Lee, will you marry me and make me the happiest man in this world?”

  Chapter Seven:

  Making Plans

  “Oh my God, oh my God!” I said. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”

  Tom chuckled a little then looked at me with his cornflower-blue eyes glowing. “I sure as hell did. Well, will you?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes! Now put that ring on my finger and get up here and kiss me,” I said. “I think I might pee myself. Holy shit, I’m getting married.”

  The stars transformed into glitter, sparkling in the night sky. The faint breeze lifted my blouse slightly, allowing the fabric to tickle my stomach enough to brighten the smile on my face. The music from the bars, clatter of the horses’ hooves, and bustling of the crowd merged to create a melody that synced with my hair swaying in the wind. My senses heightened, and I could smell the fish broiling at Galatoire’s and the lamb roasting at the Court of Two Sisters. The French Quarter, the night air, Tom’s proposal merged together filling my heart with the vastness of the universe. I was in love with Tom Sanders and I was going to be his wife.

  Tom uncorked the champagne, poured us a glass, and toasted the future of Mr. and Mrs. Tom Sanders. I liked the sound of that. I really was Cinderella, marrying my handsome prince. Oh, what a moment. I looked down at the street as I took the second sip from my champagne glass. There, across Bourbon Street on the curb stood Bob Broussard looking at me and smiling. He lifted the plastic cup in his hand as if to toast Tom and me, and smiled. Then he disappeared into the crowd, concealed by the dark corners of the side streets in the French Quarter, his hunting grounds. I nearly dropped my glass.

  “Did you see him?” I asked Tom.

  “Who?” he responded.

  “I just saw Bob Broussard standing on the curb across Bourbon Street,” I said. “I’m calling Charlotte to get Piper back here right now.”

  Charlotte answered the phone, brimming over with excitement. “Is it over? Do you have some news for me?”

  “Charlotte. Keep calm. I need to tell you something. I just saw Bob Broussard standing across Bourbon Street from our balcony. He tipped his plastic cup to me in a toast. Get Piper back here now. Be careful and watch out for him.”

  “Oh, shit . . .I mean OK,” Charlotte said in a poor attempt to be nonchalant.

  Within fifteen minutes, she was at the door with Piper. She spotted my ring and let out a spontaneous, “EWWEE. You are engaged. Yippee!”

  She’d obviously told Piper on the way to the condo, and that must have been how she persuaded her to leave Mandy before the tour was over. Piper was pleased but not really surprised, knowing it was only a matter of time before Tom popped the question. I mean, after all, we did get joint custody of her. She figured we’d make our relationship legal fairly soon. She was elated to have an official family again, even though traditional wasn’t really her thing—but it sure was mine. I was only able to contain my overwhelming excitement because I was scared shitless that Bob Broussard was going to chop my head off before the ceremony. What was he doing outside the condo? Did he know Tom was going to propose to me? Was this condo bugged?

  Tom’s plan for the evening included he and I spending our first night together here on Bourbon Street, as a couple. Bob Broussard had ruined that plan. We’d changed all of the locks, so I felt confident Bob couldn’t get inside, but I wanted an extra level of security before we moved in for good. First, the condo needed to be swept for listening devices, and second, I wanted security cameras installed throughout the interior and exterior of the condo. Plus, I thought it would be a good idea to get Detective Baker to introduce me to all of the cops who patrolled the Quarter. Most knew my name from my many dealings with the department, but I didn’t know theirs. Tom agreed, so we said goodbye to Charlotte and headed back to my condo.

  Tom and I postponed our engagement celebration for a couple of days till we could get the Bourbon Street condo ready to move into. Seeing Bob dampened some of the excitement I felt about getting engaged, but only temporarily. Once the immediate fear left me, I was once again elated about marrying Tom, my dreams that night full of wedding scenes, some ridiculous (was I really wearing a bubblegum-pink rubber dress that looked like an oversized shower cap?) and some X-rated. I woke up exhausted, and Tom brought me coffee in bed.

  “Good morning, beautiful. Feel better this morning?” Tom asked.

  “You bet I do,” I said, lifting my hand to admire my one-carat diamond solitaire engagement ring. “I am going to be Mrs. Tom Sanders.”

  I had never seen Tom with such a bright smile,his face illuminated as I waved my ring under his nose. He must have seen it dozens of times, but seeing it on my finger made it all real for him, making it difficult to contain his enthusiasm. Before I drank half my first cup of coffee, he asked, “So, when do you want to get married?”

  “When we first met I would have wanted the entire Cinderella wedding, complete with a glass carriage and white horses, butnot anymore. I want a simple ceremony. You can invite your mom and dad, but there are only a handful of others I’d like to invite.”

  “I agree,” Tom said. “My mom and dad can stay in the guest bedroom in our new home. I don’t think they’ve ever been to New Orleans. It’ll be a nice treat for them. When do you want to have the ceremony?”

  “I don’t want to wait. Since we aren’t having a large wedding, why don’t we get married next month,” I said. “That should give your parents time to plan their trip. The rest of the folks live here in New Orleans.”

  “Wow,” Tom said. “That will be fine with me. The sooner we get married, the better. Do you have any ideas where we can have the ceremony?”

  “I do. Ask your friends at the Aquarium of the Americas if we can have the ceremony there. Then we can have t
he reception at our new home on Bourbon Street. We have plenty of room. It’s set up for parties anyway. I’d like to invite all of the cops from the precinct to stop by the condo to toast us.”

  “That’s a great idea! My friends at the aquarium would love it. I doubt management will sanction us using the aquarium, but they’ll turn a blind eye to it. They love you, Alexandra. They appreciate the work you’ve done with your website fighting polluters,” Tom said.

  “Then it’s decided; next month at the aquarium we’ll be married,” I said. “Piper will love it. Speaking of my website and Piper, she’s going to take over the day-to-day maintenance. That’ll free me to work on articles about the bodies dropping in the Quarter. Since Jess Johnson is going through treatment, I’ve agreed to help her by writing a series of articles about the killings.”

  “Be careful, Alexandra. Now that you’ve agreed to be my wife, I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he teased.

  “Tom Sanders. Since when are we careful? You are marrying a kickass woman and you know it. I want to get to the bottom of those killings. We are moving into the Quarter. It is our neighborhood, and I have to make sure it is safe for our family. Someone needs to find out whether it’s Bob or someone else committing those awful crimes. I’m going to be the one to do it,” I said.

  “I know better than try to talk you out of it,” Tom said. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

  “Charlotte and I have decided to hire Michael Keeson to be the manager of our stevia business. We are meeting with him to go over strategy this morning. You and I have to set a meeting up with Mr. Swartz to talk about getting ACC to fulfill their promise to remediate the farmland in Indiana. If those bastards want a fight, we are going to give it to them,” I said.

  “You’re damn right we are. I don’t have to go offshore for the next few days, so I’m good with whatever you set up,” Tom said. “I’ll contact my friends at the aquarium and arrange our wedding venue. How cool is that going to be? A wedding with fish as the witnesses.”

  Only Tom would see it that way. I was thinking of them as backdrop, but to him they were sentientbeings—if not quite as sentient as we were.

  Tom left for work, and Piper and I waited for Charlotte to show up. We’d agreed to meet for an hour before Michael arrived. Charlotte was still buzzing about Tom proposing to me, wanting to plan a huge wedding complete with a five-tiered wedding cake and designer gown. I know I disappointed her when I unveiled our plans to be married at the aquarium. Charlotte wasn’t much of a nature girl. No, she was New Orleans uptown through and through, and I didn’t expect her to understand. However, she agreed that having the wedding guests come to the condo for the reception was a great idea since it was a manageable number. Once she ooohed and ahhed about my ring, we got down to business.

  “I’ve been thinking about a name for the stevia company,” I said. “I think we should call it Sweet Treat. I think I even have a decent tagline for the products.”

  Charlotte’s face lit up when I told her the name. I could see her marketing mind spinning like a figure skater on the ice. “I love the name. What’s the tagline?”

  I lifted my arms in the air in front of Charlotte’s face and made a frame with my fingers. “Sweet Treat Stevia. Fall in love with sweets again,” I said. “How do you like it?”

  “Oh my God. Alexandra, you are the best. I love it.”

  I looked at Piper and she gave me the thumbs-up. “Then it’s settled.We’ll call our stevia company Sweet Treat. Can you build a marketing campaign around the name?”

  “Hell yeah,” Charlotte said. “We need to find out where the FDA is headed with approving stevia.”

  “I checked it out,” I said. “Stevia hasn’t been approved as a sweetening food additive yet. Many people think the FDA is dragging its feet.”

  Charlotte looked up in the air as if she were channeling ideas from the universe. “No problem. Until they do, we’ll market to the people who believe in supplements. More than 30percent of the American population regularly takessupplements. That is more than enough potential customers. Those people understand resistance to new products that challenge the status quo. You and I know how strong the sugar lobby is in Washington.”

  “That brings up the question of you and me helping Mandy Morris and Superior Sugar,” I said. “I know how much you want to honor the memory of Mandy’s father, but we will be actively campaigning against sugar with Sweet Treat. Even Mr. Morris broke away from his own participation in Superior Sugar because he saw the damage sugar has done to health in America. I don’t think I’ll be able to reconcile the conflict of interest. Then there’s Garrett Morris, the pervert. We could never work with that guy.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes at me before answering. “I hate it when you are so right all of the time. I’ve thought about it too. It would be impossible to push stevia as an alternative to sugar while promoting the use of sugar. I feel responsible for Mandy in an odd way. Maybe we could just stay in touch with her on a personal level. Piper really likes her.”

  Piper nodded her head in agreement.

  “Well, that’s another problem. Did she tell Bob Broussard Tom and I were alone at his old condo in the Quarter?” I asked.

  “I didn’t tell her. Did you, Piper?” Charlotte asked.

  Piper looked up from the computer again. This time, she thought for a minute before answering. “I didn’t say anything either. Alexandra, I don’t think Mandy is all that smart. She’s kinda dense. Mandy’s not a leader. She’s a follower. She doesn’t mean you or me any harm. She’s just lost, if you know what I mean.”

  Charlotte and I agreed with Piper’s statement. Mandy was pitiful. That was the reason Mr. Morris asked us to look after her in the first place. “Okay, we’ll stay in touch with Mandy, but we won’t get involved with Superior Sugar,” I said, hoping we wouldn’t need the money we were walking away from.

  Michael knocked on the door, walked into the room, and instantly noticed my ring.

  “I see something has changed since we last met.”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said. “Tom has asked Alexandra to marry him and she’s accepted. We are having a wedding next month. Isn’t it exciting?”

  “I haven’t met Tom, but if Alexandra loves him, he’s got to be a great guy,” Michael said.

  I introduced him to Piper. She did her normal shy thing, giving him her innocent look through her multicolored bangs. She pushed her hair from her eyes with her rainbow-painted nails, thenstood, shook his hand, and slinked back to the couch to slide her face back into her computer.

  Michael had a spreadsheet of the business’ profit and loss and balance sheet. It showed we had about six months’ worth of capital to use before we crashed and burned. That meant we had to start marketing our products now. Charlotte and I ran our new name and slogan by Michael and he was fine with it. He didn’t seem the type to get excited about ad campaigns like Charlotte and me. He was more likely to respond to numbers.

  “Since time is of the essence here, I expect you two to have your ad campaign ready to go next week,” Michael said. “I’ll have some mockups of the new packaging and projected costs ready.”

  Charlotte fixed her eyes on him and left them there. He might as well have been reciting poetry the way she responded to his words. She twirled her hair in a tight circle as he spoke and agreed with every word out of his mouth. He said he was going out of town next weekend but would be back by Monday. Sweet Treat was a business without any office. We were planning to work out of our homes. The Bourbon Street condo was the perfect place for meetings if we needed them. There was plenty of room, and, hey, it was in the French Quarter. Everybody went separate ways, which left Piper and me time to go to the center to check on the girls.

  Susan met us at the door with her characteristic grandmotherly smile. She’d gained back all of the weight she’d lost while she was locked up. I knew t
he weight wasn’t good for her health, but it made her look like the Susan I knew, and it was good to see her back running the center.

  “Alexandra, Piper, come in. You are just in time for Karen’s cooking lessons. She is teaching Dusty how to cook like a Cajun.”

  We walked into the kitchen to find Karen Durio cooking catfish court-bouillon. Dusty had Karen’s baby in her arms, gently rocking him back and forth. Karen spoke well, but with a strong Cajun accent. It was quite a sight to see a seventeen-year-old new mother teaching an eighteen-year-old former stripper how to cook like a French Quarter chef. Dusty saw the rock on my finger and ran to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Alexandra, you’ve gotten engaged! I am so happy for you,” she said. “I want to hear all about it, but first let me tell you what the girls at Clint’s club are saying about the killings in the Quarter.”

  She had my undivided attention.

  Chapter Eight:

  Dark Ceremony

  “The killings are weird. They aren’t like what Bob was doing to the girls. They aren’t even the same every time,” Dusty said. “One of the dancers walked past the police at the crime scene of the first girl murdered. The dancer couldn’t tell how the girl was killed. But she did see the police removing a folded paper stuffed in her mouth. Some of the cops with loose lips said there was a long pin stuck in her head from one ear to the other. How barbaric is that!” She shuddered.

  “What about the other girl killed? Does anyone know anything about her, or how about the guy who they say may have committed suicide?” I asked, doing my best not to imagine the girl with the pin through her head.

  “I haven’t heard anything about the other girl, but street talk is that the guy was pushed off the roof of a building before or after he had a pin jammed through his ear just like the first girl. The cops put out the suicide story for the chamber of commerce. They don’t want to scare off the tourists.”