by Don Bruns
THIRTY-FOUR
He was shaking. The man was on his turf and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. The man who took his wife’s life, who was responsible for alienating his entire family, had been twenty feet in front of him. Taunting him. Hurling threats. And Archer was helpless. Powerless. Vulnerable. And he realized that his nemesis had pulled a coup. He was in awe. The hits just kept on coming.
Cautiously turning the key and opening the door, he peered in. Everything seemed to be in place. If the cottage were booby-trapped, he’d have to go inside and look for it. It could be just a mind game Mercer was playing, breaking the tape so Archer would waste time looking for a surprise. The lock on the door didn’t seem to be tampered with and a quick glance around seemed to verify the windows were all closed and locked. He stepped inside and took a deep breath. Gas. Expelling the air from his lungs, Archer walked to the stove. The gas was on, the flame was out. He quickly turned off the burners then threw the door open and raised the two windows, letting fresh air into the cottage.
Thank God for Mercaptan, the rotten-egg-smelling ingredient that was added to natural gas to help detect leaks. He’d been involved in a murder where gas had been the weapon and he’d been made aware of Mercaptan during the investigation.
Mercer had gotten in. And as a reminder that he could strike anywhere, anytime, he’d turned all the burners on. With no flame.
His cell rang and he answered immediately, hoping it was Tom Lyons. He needed to talk to someone about the situation.
‘Detective Quentin Archer?’
He didn’t recognize her voice. ‘This is Archer.’
‘This is Marcia LeJeune.’
‘Senator LeJeune?’
‘The same,’ she said. ‘The office gave me your phone number.’
‘What can I do for you?’ He stepped outside into the fresh air.
‘Detective, I understand you are working on a string of murders.’
‘It’s what I do, Senator. I’m a homicide detective.’
‘These murders involve the Chill cans. I believe the press has labeled the killings the thrill kills.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Detective, there is a strong possibility that these killings revolve around people who are involved in human trafficking.’
He was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how much to tell her. Finally he spoke.
‘We may have come to that same conclusion, Senator. There seems to be a tie-in between the murders and victims who were involved in trafficking.’
‘You may know,’ she said, ‘that I have a very strong campaign to bring trafficking to a halt.’
‘I understand you had a fundraiser yesterday.’
‘Yes. We raised money for the shelter, but what you may not know, I have enlisted the help of the FBI and local law enforcement officials to put a stop to this human slavery in New Orleans.’
‘Local law enforcement?’
‘We haven’t gone public yet, Detective. It’s a need-to-know situation at this moment, do you understand?’
He didn’t.
‘Detective Archer, I’m asking, and your department will be asking, you to step down. You now have a need-to-know status. I’ve talked to your police chief, I’ve talked to your lieutenant and I’ve spoken with your immediate, a Sergeant Chip Beeman, and tomorrow he will ask you to wait until we have our people in positions. We can have a much broader impact if this is a coordinated attack on these people.’
Archer held the cell phone away from his ear and studied it. He needed a moment of reflection. No one from his office had contacted him, and he heard from them on a regular basis. There was a priority on finding the killer or killers regarding the thrill kills. He was on a mission and had no intention of being distracted. Now, after listening to the senator, he was certain that he’d hear from Beeman or someone in the very near future, but to hear first-hand from this politician made no sense to him. No sense at all.
‘Obviously I want to help the situation,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to Beeman in the morning. Not to be rude, but I normally don’t take orders from a Washington politician. I’m sure we’ll support you in any way we can, but understand, I’ve heard nothing from my command and until I do, I’m not stopping the process.’
‘I’m hoping we can avoid any conflict, Detective Archer.’
‘And I’m trying to solve a series of murders, Senator. Every day I don’t act, someone else could be killed. As I said, it’s my job to solve these crimes and until I’m relieved of duty, I intend to do that job to the best of my ability.’
What kind of chain of command was this? He shook his head and ended the call. If and when he heard from a superior, then he’d consider calling off the investigation. But they’d put far too much work into it at this point to turn it over to some federal bureaucracy. He’d worked a couple of cases with the FBI in Detroit and, yes, they were very professional, well trained, paid much better than Detroit cops, but to a large degree they were pompous assholes who took over and treated the local force like their hired help. He wasn’t a fan.
Archer went back inside and sat on the bed, listening to the music bleeding into his apartment through the open door and windows. He dialed Lyons’s number and immediately got a voicemail. He decided not to leave any message and instead lay back, determined to get a little sleep before he visited the Café du Monde.
His phone chirped and he grabbed it, hoping it was Lyons.
‘Quentin, it’s Solange Cordray.’
He smiled. Just the sound of her voice and her name.
‘I hope it’s not too late to call.’
‘No. Never.’
‘I don’t know what this means, but it seems important. Paul Girard dropped off Kathy’s personal items, her wallet, phone and purse.’
‘Great.’
‘He shared some information I thought you should be aware of.’
‘And?’ He didn’t want this call to end.
‘And he mentioned his conversation with Senator Marcia LeJeune. As you know they had a meeting at the restaurant.’
‘What was said?’ His interest piqued.
‘She asked him to drop the story he’s been working on. Delay any release. She told him there was a concentrated plan to close down the trafficking that involved local and federal agencies and she needed him to go silent for a couple months.’
‘Damn.’
‘Is there a problem?’ she asked.
‘I shouldn’t tell you this.’
‘Quentin, I lit a candle for you. Tonight, I feel you are in some serious trouble. I don’t know what it is, but I am praying for you.’
‘Thank you.’ For some reason it calmed him. ‘I may be in trouble. It wouldn’t be the first time. The senator called me tonight.’
‘LeJeune?’
Archer stopped for a moment. The information had not been sworn to secrecy and he wasn’t obligated to suppress the story.
‘Yes. She asked me to suspend the investigation of the thrill kills. She told me the same thing.’
‘And what was your response?’
‘I told her I don’t take orders from senators in Washington DC.’
‘Quentin, continue to pursue the case. You’re on to something big.’
‘You really think so?’
‘I do. It’s just an instinct but … By the way, Kathy Bavely says thank you for looking after her this afternoon.’
‘Solange,’ and he realized they were now calling each other by their first names, ‘tomorrow night I’m planning a major event. The arrest of a murderer, the possible release of some kidnapped victims.’
‘I wish you good luck, but what does that have to do with me? Why are you telling me this?’
‘Can you,’ he couldn’t believe he was asking this question, ‘can you tell me if I’m on the right track? Will this mission be successful?’
‘I told you, I sincerely feel you are on to something big. But I can’t at this moment tell you if an o
peration will be successful.’
They were silent for a moment. Archer couldn’t seriously believe he had asked for her professional help. Lyons and company would call him batshit crazy. She was a voodoo lady, tarot cards and casting bones. Fantasy land. Mystic magic. It made no sense.
‘I can probably tell you later. But not at this moment. It may take some time. Let me consult and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Again, I hate to ask for advice without paying for it.’
‘Someday maybe you’ll do me a favor,’ she said. ‘I think that time may come sooner than you think.’
‘Thank you, Solange. I sincerely appreciate your interest.’
‘I know you do. By the way, Kathy is staying here tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I know there’s a lot of protection in the Quarter right now, but …’
‘I’ll get extra detail tonight to watch your place, OK? Someone will swing by every half hour or so.’
‘Thanks, Quentin.’
‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight to you.’
They stayed on the phone, neither hanging up. Finally Archer disconnected and put the phone on the nightstand, like a schoolboy hoping she would call back.
THIRTY-FIVE
It was two in the morning when the phone chirped again. Archer shook the fog from his brain and answered.
‘Q, they put an arrest warrant out on Mercer. The prosecutor thinks she’s got enough to hold him on the murder.’
Archer sat on the edge of his iron-framed bed, stunned.
‘You there, buddy?’
‘Yeah. I’m here.’
‘OK, we are going to need your phone. Don’t lose it. Don’t erase anything. The prosecutor will want to see all calls, text messages, the usual.’
‘When do you need it?’
‘After they bring him in. There’s no rush. Maybe in a couple of days.’
‘They haven’t arrested him yet.’
‘No. I just found out.’
‘At two in the morning?’
‘It’s three here, partner. This is real time.’
‘You guys don’t sleep.’
‘Crime doesn’t sleep, Q. You know that. Most crime happens in the wee small hours, right?’
‘I’m not sure how you’re going to arrest him.’
‘They’re staking out his house, watching his vehicles, the usual.’
‘You can call them off.’
‘Yeah? Why’s that?’
‘He’s down here, Tom. We had an interesting conversation earlier outside my place. I could have ended everything at that moment.’
It was Lyons’s turn to be quiet.
‘Said he was on vacation. Vague threat about wanting me to go away. He said if I were to have an accident, things would quiet down up north. I don’t think he knows how close you are.’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Lyons said. ‘It sounds to me like he’s skipped town and may not have any intention of coming back.’
‘Yeah, there’s that.’
‘Nobody here knows he’s gone, Q. Damn, be careful. If he thinks he’s got nothing to lose …’
‘My brother Jason has nothing to lose, but when he’s shown up here all he does is threaten me.’
‘Yeah, but he’s your brother. Blood and all that.’
‘Mercer did mention that. He said he came down personally to harass me and didn’t want Jason to get involved because he didn’t want brother killing brother.’
‘He really said that?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We’ll alert authorities down there. How hard will it be to find him?’
‘A friend of mine says it’s easy to get lost and stay lost in New Orleans.’
‘Damn, be careful my friend. Please.’
‘He wants me dead, Tom. And that’s not going to happen.’
He was at a table when she walked in in her gray sweats, fresh-faced and dewy-eyed, and Levy was ten feet behind her.
Archer smiled. ‘Alexia, I’m so glad you came.’
‘I should have known this was the lovely lady we were meeting,’ Levy said.
Rising, Archer introduced them. ‘Alexia, meet the second best homicide detective in New Orleans, Josh Levy.’
‘Gentlemen.’ She raised her eyebrows and looked questioningly at Archer.
‘I need his advice and I asked him to be a part of our meeting. I should have told you, but believe me, you can trust him. You can say anything.’
Levy pulled out a chair and she sat down.
‘The last time I was with two cops,’ she said, ‘was in Miami. One was watching and one was participating. The older cop was paying me for a lap dance for his partner who was turning thirty.’
‘No lap dances,’ Archer said. ‘I promise.’
‘We do entertain members of your force from time to time.’ She smiled. ‘So what is this plan?’
Archer ordered three chicory coffees and three beignets.
‘We’ve got a fifty percent chance that Dushane White will bring in some South American underage girls to Woody’s tomorrow night.’
She nodded. ‘That’s the rumor.’
‘You have to keep this totally quiet, Alexia.’
Levy glanced at him. ‘Are you sure you want to go public with this, Q?’
‘She’s trustworthy, Josh. Trust me on this. She came to us. If she keeps it quiet, it’s not public.’
He nodded and sipped his coffee.
‘We have an arrest warrant for White. And we almost had him earlier yesterday. He broke surveillance and we have no idea where he is. If he shows up tomorrow at Woody’s, we’ve got a good chance of getting him.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘Tell me how this transfer of girls happens.’
‘In the past, they’ve come in a rear entrance. There is a separate dressing room in the back and I think they give the girls a brief tutorial as to what’s expected. They provide a costume, such as it is, and push them out onto the floor. They spend an hour or so watching the other girls and then they are forced onto the stage. From day one, they are responsible for a certain number of contacts each night, and the ones that actually last become a part of the team.’
‘The ones that last?’ Levy asked.
‘Not many of them stay too long,’ Alexia said. ‘I’m guessing at a lot of this, but I’ve heard that the girls who don’t live up to expectations get shipped off to massage parlors up in north New Orleans off Gentilly Road. No dancing required, you just have to rub and tug. If they don’t perform there, there are worse jobs. Hotel grunt work, seafood packing, even working on farms. Full employment, you know? 100 percent. The girls have value. There are plenty of places who will pay an agency for their services but pay dirt wages or less once they start working.’
‘Dushane comes in with them?’
‘If he delivers, he definitely stays. I don’t know what he threatens them with, but he’ll sit at the bar and watch. Girls tend to perform much more enthusiastically when the pimp is in the house.’
‘Jesus,’ Levy took a bite of his beignet. ‘This is such a …’
‘Sordid business?’
He smiled. ‘Good choice of words. And nothing personal.’
‘It’s what I do, Detective. I understand the implications.’
‘What did you do before stripping?’
She hesitated. ‘I’m a,’ she hesitated, ‘I was a pharmacist.’
‘No kidding?’
‘No kidding.’
‘And you quit for this?’
‘I didn’t exactly quit,’ she looked at the two detectives. ‘I had a boyfriend who turned out not to be much of a friend. Let’s just say he had leverage and threatened me if I didn’t supply him with drugs. I’m not proud of what I did, hell, I’m not proud of what I do, but long story short, I don’t sell drugs anymore.’
‘Wow.’ Archer shook his head. ‘And the boyfriend?’
‘Doing time, thank God. I promised myself I was going to take charge of my
life and never again let a guy intimidate me.’
‘That does explain a lot,’ Archer said.
‘And I was making a hundred plus a year. Pretty good money for legally dispensing drugs. But to these guys, that’s chump change.’ She took a swallow of the bitter beverage and closed her eyes for a moment as if to erase the memory. ‘There are drug dealers then there are drug dealers.’
‘So now,’ Archer interrupted, ‘you make two to three hundred thousand a year. A lot of it tax free.’
‘You said that, Detective Archer. I would never admit in front of two law enforcement agents that I am cheating the Internal Revenue Service.’
‘He sits at the bar? Dushane White?’
‘He does. He’ll nurse a drink for two or three hours and sometimes walk up and talk to a girl, explaining that she needs to try a little harder, I guess. There is fear in their eyes. In my eyes I’ve got a little humor, a little sarcasm, a little pity and a lot of boredom.’ She stared at Archer with a dead serious look. ‘These girls are scared to death.’
Archer turned to Levy. ‘My thought, we grab him before he goes in. We’re in the alley with patrol car and two to four cops. When he shows up—’
‘Probably in a van,’ Alexia said. ‘I’ve seen this white panel van out there when I leave my shift.’
‘We take him there.’
‘Problem is, Q,’ Levy frowned, ‘he’s got four or five hostages if we can’t separate them.’
‘True.’
‘What’s the scene inside?’ Levy looked at Alexia.
‘What? Another strip club virgin? I don’t believe it.’ She shook her head. ‘What did you do for fun in college? Half-naked girls are wandering around, trying to get a drink from a john, trying to get a lap dance, trying to get a guy into a private room, and some guys are game, and some want to be coaxed.’
‘The bar?’
‘Our bar crowd is made up of the voyeurs. They stay as far away from the stage as possible. They don’t necessarily want close contact. They want to be on the outside looking in. Once in a while a guy at the bar is a player but not that often. And about every night some of the boyfriends sit there. I guess they get off on the fact that eventually they are going home with one of the dancers. After she’s successfully gotten a bunch of strangers off. It’s a fucked up world, Detective.’
