by Jana DeLeon
Unless, of course, you didn’t recognize faces.
So it was a leap of faith every time she got into a private vehicle with someone. Granted, there probably weren’t a lot of people roving around looking for random women and pretending to be Uber drivers, but it was still one more thing outside her control. What she needed to do was find a private driver she could schedule with when driving was a better choice than walking. Maybe she could ask for a recommendation, then get Shaye to run a background check on him, just to be sure.
It would be easier still to simply buy her own automobile, but given that her need for transportation averaged two to three times a month at most, it seemed an unnecessary expense and time consumption with maintenance and everything else that went with ownership. One of the many reasons she’d intentionally moved to the midst of an urban area was the ability to walk to just about everything. Besides, owning a car meant walking through parking lots, and sometimes they came with their own sets of issues.
Under normal circumstances, walking wouldn’t bother her, even at night. She’d bought an apartment in a well-trafficked area, and that was especially true now with even more people flooding into the French Quarter to make their holiday purchases. But tonight, everything seemed off. Everyone looked sinister whether they fit the description of the killer or not. Suddenly it felt as if everyone were looking at her when before, she’d always felt as though she’d disappeared in the crowd.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled and she slowed and glanced around, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. But no one stood out. People moved by in all directions, seemingly intent on getting to a shop or their car or home. No one paused to stare at her. No one slowed their step when she did. Instead, people just swerved around her and kept walking at their original pace. Nothing looked out of place, but everything felt that way.
You’re freaking yourself out over nothing.
And she could have bought that. After all, she was no action hero who played off things like witnessing a murder. She was your average introvert who was normally never a part of something like this. Dealing with people had always been stressful enough. Knowing that someone walking the same streets with her was a killer was so much worse.
And then there was what Shaye said. It would be far easier to dismiss her unease if Shaye hadn’t specifically told her not to ignore those feelings. And her reasons had made sense. Certainly Homo sapiens had advanced far beyond their primitive ancestors, but those safety nets built into humans were no less relevant now than they were thousands of years ago. In fact, they might be more important now when the threat could blend in with everything else, unlike a lion or tiger.
She quickened her pace until she was just short of jogging and was completely out of breath by the time she entered her building. James, the security guard who worked nights, was standing at the desk in the center of the entry, where he had a full view of anyone entering the building or attempting to access the elevators. Madison knew for certain it was James working because the building management required them to set out a name placard on the front desk when they went on shift. That way, new tenants could get to know the men and women protecting their investment.
“Good evening, Ms. Avery,” James said with a warm smile. “It looks like it might storm out there.”
She nodded. “That’s why I was hurrying but apparently, I need to put in some more time on the treadmill. I’m a bit winded.”
“I sold my treadmill when I retired from the police force. Put it all in a garage sale and decided if I couldn’t maintain decent shape with diet and a bit of exercise, putting on a few pounds wasn’t the end of the world.”
Madison stopped next to the security desk, curious about the older gentleman in front of her. “I didn’t realize you were a policeman.”
He nodded. “Did my duty for the navy, then put in thirty years with the department in Lake Charles. My wife and I always loved New Orleans, so we moved here when I retired. Got us a little place near the French Quarter, and I picked up this job for some spending money and to get me out of my wife’s hair for a bit.”
“And how’s the weight thing going?”
“Gained ten pounds and not a pound more. This city is dangerous with the food, but if you walk most everywhere, it’s manageable, especially if you don’t eat all the fattening stuff late at night.”
“The food is definitely the best,” she said. “Hey, James, I’m pretty sure someone was following me earlier. It was probably nothing but if you see anyone strange hanging around, would you let me know?”
“Following you tonight?” His tone got serious.
“Yeah. I think. I mean, it could have been my overactive imagination, but I just had this weird feeling.”
“You’re smart to listen to that feeling. You don’t know how many victims I’ve taken statements from who ignored that feeling and ended up in the police station. I used to wonder how many more ended up in the morgue. I’ll keep an eye out. If anyone is hanging around the area for too long and doesn’t look like they have business here, I’ll check it out. Probably a pickpocket, especially given the time of year. But it’s smart to be safe.”
Madison nodded. “Someone else told me the same thing. I’m sure you’re both right. Well, I’m going to get upstairs and watch a movie. Have a good night, and thanks for looking out for me.”
“I’m happy to. You have a good night too, Ms. Avery.”
Madison walked past the front desk and back to the elevators. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the penthouse floor. As the elevator rose, some of her anxiety slipped away. If someone had been following her and was foolish enough to lurk around, James would notice. She had seriously lucked out with him. Not only retired, but a retired cop. Too old and the wrong build to be the killer, and had put in so many years at his job that he’d definitely notice something odd.
All she had to do was never leave her apartment again, and she’d be perfectly safe.
She opened her door and stepped inside but didn’t turn on the overhead lights. The lights under her kitchen cabinets offered enough glow for her to traverse the living room and move into her bedroom, where the shades were down and would probably remain that way. She grabbed her nightclothes and changed, then ran a brush through her hair and put it up into a ponytail. When she was done, she studied her face in the mirror. It was an ordinary face, something else that disappointed her mother. She knew about the ordinary face and the disappointment because she’d overheard her mother say both to a friend. It had hurt then, and if Madison was being honest with herself, still smarted now.
She understood that she wasn’t the problem. That her parents’ all-consuming desire for status with their highbrow friends overrode compassion, even for their own child. Especially when that child didn’t measure up on any level they considered important. But it still stung. She reached up to brush her eyebrows in place, then stopped herself. Her parents’ standards weren’t important. Not to her and not to her life.
She headed into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, then turned off the cabinet lights and walked to the picture window in the living room. The lights from the outside provided just enough of a dim glow that she could see where she was walking, but without interior lights on, she knew that no one could see her inside her fishbowl. Still, she felt exposed standing in front of the window, and grabbed the remote to lower the blinds.
Feeling her way to her chair in the now pitch-black room, she sat and picked up the remote for the lights, turning them on to a low setting. Her hand shook slightly as she traded the lighting remote for the television one. She needed a distraction, and reading was beyond her current concentration level. She’d find a movie—something funny—and finish her glass of wine. Then hopefully, she’d be calm enough to sleep.
But even as she made those plans, she already knew it was going to be a long night.
He watched from across the street as she entered her building. The quickness of step and
the way she glanced around told him she was uneasy. When she turned her head his direction, he could see the fear in her expression. He ducked behind a lamppost and waited until he was certain she had entered the building before slipping into the shop behind him so that he could study the building from the inside of the store. Well away from the watchful eyes of the nervous woman.
He hadn’t realized the building across the street had occupants, and that was an enormous miscalculation on his part. Even when the lights in her apartment had popped on, it barely registered because he was so intent on his work. And such careful work it had been…except for that one mistake.
The woman had ruined his fun. He’d picked the apartment for his game because of the exposure. It was like being on stage except the heavens were his audience. A place where God himself could see what he had created. Could see all the intelligence and cunning of the one made in his image. Then the woman had made a fool of him and all his careful planning. Had ruined his opportunity to show himself in all his glory before the creator. Losing that had been a terrible blow, but he had an even bigger problem.
The woman had seen him. He was certain. All day, he’d monitored the local news, waiting to see an artist’s rendition of his face or his companion’s. But nothing had been mentioned at all and that confused him.
After he’d disposed of the body, he’d returned to the area and driven by on a cross street. Two police cars and a CSI van were parked in front of the building. The CSI team didn’t worry him. He knew how to avoid leaving evidence. And besides, the apartment was full of hair and skin cells from the constant trail of contractors, real estate agents, and home buyers. Unless that DNA was in the system, they wouldn’t have anything to match it to without a body or a suspect.
And he didn’t plan on giving them either.
The lack of news reports told him that the police had dismissed her claim, but that didn’t mean he was safe. He had no desire to creep around the city, constantly on the lookout for the woman, worried that she might spot him and call the police or get a picture of him that would be flashed on every news station in the state. No, the woman was a big problem.
A problem he intended to correct.
5
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
* * *
Shaye was up early and out the door to meet her mother’s real estate friend, Monique. The woman was a bit nervous about the reason behind Shaye’s desire to see the apartment, but was also perturbed enough by Madison’s story that she wanted to help.
“You don’t have to come inside,” Shaye said as Monique hesitated in front of the door.
Monique shook her head and removed the key from the lockbox to unlock the door. “I need to do this,” she said as she opened the door and stepped inside. “I know you suspect that woman was a…uh, working girl, but that could have been me or any other Realtor. It’s the one thing we fear the most. I mean, we try to verify as much as possible before showing a property, and I would never show anything late at night, but the risk can’t be eliminated.”
“I’m sure you do everything you can to mitigate risk, but if you’re ever uncertain, please don’t hesitate to call me. I’m happy to play security for a showing.”
Monique smiled. “My husband usually gets saddled with that job, but if he’s out of town on business and I run into a situation I don’t want to get into alone, I might take you up on that.”
Shaye nodded and checked out the doorframe before stepping inside the unit. Nothing on the door indicated forced entry, but then she hadn’t expected it to. If there had been any indication of such, the cops would have discovered it and the investigation would have taken a different turn, at least for a while longer. But without forensic evidence, especially a body, it was hard to make a case for allocating already-stretched resources to an investigation based on one witness. Especially when that witness couldn’t provide a description of the victim or the perp.
Shaye stepped inside and glanced around the large open space, then walked into the dining area where Madison had indicated the crime occurred. Squatting, she studied the hardwood floor, running her hand across the surface, but there was no way the new finish had come into contact with anything wet, especially blood. There would have been stains, or if it had been scrubbed, signs of discoloration. But the smooth, shiny surface showed no signs of damage.
She rose again and scanned the room. Madison had said a large blue rug covered the floor, but Shaye was fairly certain that wasn’t the case. The shade of blue that Madison had described was a popular one for tarps, and a tarp would have prevented blood from seeping onto the hardwood floor where a carpet would have allowed some to leak out. Luminol would have picked up even a drop and would have been used by the crime scene unit right after vacuuming.
She walked over to the window and looked up at Madison’s apartment. The height of the penthouse afforded her a perfect view directly down into this unit. Given the placement of the tarp, Madison would have had a clear line of sight to what had happened.
The problem was how to prove it.
“Tell me about the lockbox system,” Shaye said. “How does it work?”
“We all register with our credentials,” Monique said, “then we use a phone app to request access to the key chamber.”
“So it’s Bluetooth?”
“Exactly. The box unlocks, we use the key, then replace it when we’re done. The listing agent can pull a report of the date, time, and showing agent for each entry.”
“Do you have the listing agent’s name?”
“I figured you might need it, so I brought you his card. I had one on file.”
“Do you know anything about him?”
“I’ve worked with him on a couple of deals. He’s young, talented, and more than a little full of himself.”
“And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear from me.”
“Possible murder in a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar listing…yeah, he’s not going to be happy at all.”
“Better to work with me than the police. At least I can offer some discretion.”
“But for how long? Look, if you believe this woman, then I have no doubt she saw what she says she did. And when it all unravels, no one will be able to keep it a secret.”
“Good. Things like this shouldn’t be hidden away. Everyone needs to know what kind of people walk among us.”
Madison jumped when her cell phone rang. Her concentration had been bad for days, and she had to get this last bit of programming done before the release to testing next week. She’d finally regained some of her stride and was surprised to see she’d been at it for two hours straight when she checked her phone.
She tensed a bit when she saw the number for building security.
“Ms. Avery?” the security guard asked.
“Yes.”
“You have a guest downstairs. Her name is Shaye Archer. Is it all right for me to send her up?”
Relief swept through her and she relaxed her death grip on the phone. “Yes. Thank you.”
She headed to the front door, a million thoughts racing through her mind. Shaye had just agreed to take her case yesterday evening. It wasn’t quite noon. Had she discovered something already? She froze.
Oh my God. What if she changed her mind?
Madison shook her head. No. She wouldn’t allow her thoughts to go that direction. Shaye had told her she’d take the case and had provided her with a contract specifying services to be provided. Madison had written her a check for the retainer. It was a done deal. Well, everything but the investigating part.
Knocking at the door broke her out of her semi-trance and she took the last couple steps toward the door. Before she could check through the peephole, a voice sounded outside.
“Madison? It’s Shaye Archer.”
Even though she’d already known that Shaye was on her way up to her apartment, and the only way up was through security, it was still comforting to hear Shaye’s voice. Looking through the peephole wou
ld tell her very little, and she didn’t know anyone in New Orleans well enough to recognize them using other cues.
She opened the door and waved Shaye inside. “Thank you for stating your name.”
“Of course,” Shaye said. “We should probably pick a word or phrase that can distinguish me.”
“I recognized your voice pretty well.”
“Yes, but someone could record my voice or mimic me well enough to fool you since you haven’t known me very long. A word known only to the two of us would eliminate that possibility.”
Madison stared. “Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Of course you hadn’t. You’re not supposed to have to think of things like that, but for now, you do, so we might as well make it as easy as we can.”
Every time Madison started to question her own judgment or mentally chastise herself for the things she hadn’t considered, Shaye was there to remind her that it wasn’t her skill set and wasn’t supposed to be. It made her feel less inept and reinforced her belief that going to Shaye had been the right decision.
“How about Casper?” Madison asked.
“Who’s Casper?”
“No. I mean for our code word. But to answer your question, he was a white cat that I had for twelve years. He died a couple years ago from cancer, and I keep saying I’m going to get another but I haven’t been able to yet.”
“Casper is perfect, especially since it’s not a word that would come up in random conversation.”
“Great. So did you find out anything?”
Shaye’s demeanor so far had been observant but relaxed, and Madison wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.
