by Deborah Camp
“For a few days, yes,” Trudy answered. “We have some things to attend to and then we’ll be back, assuming the salvage yard killer is still on the loose.”
“We’ll be gone a couple of weeks,” Levi said, handing a manila file folder to the detective.
Trudy stiffened. Two weeks? What happened to one week? Something with his business must have come up that he forgot to mention to her. Her gaze jumped back to the door as Rodie Dupree strode into the room, shoulders hunched, his short hair a mess, and haggard lines wreathing his pale face. He carried a stained coffee mug. “Oh, hello, Detective Dupree.”
“Hiya.” His smile was more like a wince. He sat next to his partner and accepted the file folder Levi handed him. “You want coffee or – no? Okay. You two having fun here in NOLA?”
Levi’s smile was barely there, so Trudy took up his slack. “We’ve managed to hit a few of the clubs and dance floors, but we’ve mainly been working.”
“Oh, right, right. Working.” Dupree glanced at his partner as he opened the folder and leafed through the papers. Twenty of them. “Let’s see here . . .” His pale blue eyes moved left to right, left to right, stopped, and then lifted to stare at Levi. “So, you’re thinking that Forté is training someone to take over for him?”
Levi nodded. Just nodded.
Dupree read some more. Trudy folded her arms and sat back to watch the show. It reminded her of a Nature TV program about big horned sheep ramming into each other.
“Anything Forté said in that little meeting you had with him that led you to that conclusion?”
“The séance, you mean?” Levi asked.
“Yeah. The séance.” He glanced at Bonifay again and something smart-alecky passed between them.
“What we learned mostly confirmed what we already knew about Forté. He’s sure he’s brilliant and he’s a first-class prick.”
Dupree arched one bushy brow and took a sip of coffee. “Told you he was a horse’s ass. Doesn’t make him a serial killer.”
“You’ve been following him, so you must still be interested in him,” Levi said.
Dupree’s gaze slid sideways to Bonifay before coming back to Levi. “Who says we’ve been following him?”
“If you’re not following him, then you’re following us.” Levi flattened his hands on the table. “Which is it?”
Dupree stared at Levi another few seconds before looking at the report again. He thumbed to another page. “Miss Tucker, you’ve mentally contacted the present killer? Has he murdered anyone lately?”
“No. I would have contacted you immediately if that were the case. But let’s be clear; if you don’t think my abilities hold any credence, why are we having this meeting?” Trudy waited for him to look at her. She hadn’t been aware of the mockery in Dupree’s expression until that moment, but Levi must have sensed it and that’s why he’d come to the meeting ready for a verbal brawl. She caught the quick flick of Levi’s gaze. Dupree angled his chin back an inch and glanced at Bonifay, who was giving Trudy a what-bug-crawled-up-your-butt look.
“Trudy’s right,” Levi said, taking command again. “We’re here to discuss what we’ve uncovered, professional to professional, but let’s not bullshit each other. You want us around? We’re here. You don’t? We’ll work this by ourselves until we have substantial enough evidence to warrant an arrest.” Levi ran a hand down his tie. “You’ve put surveillance on us and followed up with the people we’ve interviewed. Are you working with us or are we now part of your suspects list?”
Dupree tapped the folder. “This is all you’ve got?”
“Mostly,” Levi said with a hint of a smile.
“Mostly? What the hell does that mean?”
“I made contact with the last victim and she was helpful. She’d seen him before her abduction.”
Bonifay closed her folder and shifted her gaze from Levi to Trudy. “That right? And it’s not in this report? Seems like you two are playing games here. Not us.”
Trudy shook her head, but before she could speak, Levi took the pitch and batted it out of the park.
“Detective, we don’t play with serial killers. We identify them and make sure they’re arrested. Look, we’ve been on the up-and-up with you. You gave us information that’s been in every newspaper in Louisiana. We’re used to that. At first. But then you tailed us and talked to family members again after we interviewed them. That doesn’t feel like we’re working together. You don’t trust us?” He gave an indolent shrug. “Fine. However, if we’re going to continue to be subjected to the same impertinence we’ve been getting from you from the start, we’ll be on our way. We have a flight to make this evening.”
Trudy turned her head slightly, focusing on that fluttering muscle in his jaw. Oh yeah. He was hot under the collar. Nothing pissed him off more than to be made fun of or disrespected. Levi expected to be treated like a serious professional psychic, given his worldwide reputation. When it came to expectations and demands, he was far more evolved than her. Just the way he sat – shoulders squared, chin up, eyes slightly narrowed and piercingly focused, hands relaxed on the table – bespoke of confidence and, yes, arrogance. God, she loved that about him.
Emboldened by him, she sat up a little straighter and arranged her features in what she hoped was the essence of self-assurance.
Dupree looked at Bonifay. She nodded and he gave a grudging nod.
“Yeah, we’ve been keeping an eye on you two,” Dupree said. “And on Forté. I can’t stand that damned peacock.”
“He’s sexually attracted to Levi,” Trudy said, shocking herself. Ooops! She looked at Levi and he slid her his patented what-the-ever-loving-fuck! glare.
Dupree squinted a little at Levi. “Didn’t figure Forté to be gay.”
Levi shrugged back into his cool composure. “Could be bisexual.”
“You are on the handsome side,” Bonifay said with a soft giggle. “Maybe you turned him bi.” Her eyes twinkled with down-and-dirty mischief when she looked at Trudy. Unable to stop herself, Trudy laughed in agreement. To her surprise, even Dupree chuckled, the sound rumbling in the room like distant thunder. The tension that had built up dissipated, shaken loose by the jocularity.
“Okie-dokie then.” Dupree rapped his knuckles on the table.
Trudy stared at Dupree’s hand – big, wide hand with chunky fingers. A pale line circled his left ring finger. Her heart stopped for a frozen, frantic second. “Detective.” She swallowed the apprehension clawing at her throat. “Did you lose your wedding ring?”
His squinty gaze shifted from her to his ring finger and back to her. “Yeah. So?”
“I believe Desmond Forté has it.” She sensed all gazes zeroing in on her. Levi leaned forward a little to get a better look at her face. “He showed us a wedding ring at the séance. He said he found it. When I held it, I suddenly saw you in my mind. It was so odd. I didn’t . . .” She shrugged. “I didn’t know what to make of it – until now. He was obviously testing us. Somehow, he got your wedding ring.”
“He has a reputation of lifting things,” Levi noted. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
Dupree shared a speaking look with his partner before addressing Trudy. “Yeah. We brought Forté here for another round of questioning a few months ago. He never turns down an invitation. He loves talking to us and we’re always hoping to trip him up. Anyway, I take my ring off and put it in my jacket pocket when I have to put on those latex gloves to handle anything. We were showing him items we’d taken off one or two of the bodies. Later, I realized my ring wasn’t in my pocket. Never did find it.”
The room went silent. Trudy glanced nervously at Levi and found him smiling at her, obviously pleased and interested in her new ability.
Dupree cleared his throat and nodded slowly at Trudy. She couldn’t be certain, but his narrowed eyes seemed to be a degree or two warmer now. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. So, what do you have for us? You got my attention.”
Levi forced the smile from his lips an
d drew in a quick breath. “The victim worked at the Sand Dollar and he was there one night.”
“The new guy, Forté, or both?”
“The new guy. His friends called him A.J.”
Everyone went still and the room became so silent that Trudy could hear everyone breathe.
“He has a tattoo on his right wrist.” Levi reached inside his jacket and removed a gold pen from the pocket. He gave it a quick twist to expose the nib and pulled the copy of Dupree’s report closer. At the top of the page, he drew an infinity symbol and then a swastika on top of it. “Like this. Infinity in dark blue and the other in black and silver.” He replaced the pen in his jacket pocket. “He’s lean, probably tall, six foot or a few inches over, black shaggy hair, short beard and mustache.” He illustrated, circling his own mouth and chin with his index finger. “In his late twenties, early thirties.”
“He grabbed her after work that same night?”
“No. I’m not sure, but I believe that happened several weeks later. She was at a taco stand after it had closed and he grabbed her there. He took her to a place that looked to me like a basement. There was a bed there, a shelving unit, a single ceiling light. Bare bulb.”
Bonifay pulled a pen from her vest pocket and jotted down what Levi was saying.
“He wore a mask. A full head face mask of the Grim Reaper.” He reached into his jacket pocket again and removed a folded sheet of typing paper, handing it to Dupree. He’d printed it off right before they’d left the Soniat House. “I found it on the Internet. As you can see, it’s mostly black and red. He wore a black hoodie just like the one in that picture. Dark jeans, black, leather gloves. He used a switchblade on her. Black stainless steel with a finger-groove handle.”
“Three-inch blade?” Dupree asked, all business now.
“Yes. He shoved it to the hilt into her chest and hit her heart, so at least three inches.”
“A.J.” Bonifay looked up from her notes. All amusement had left her face, as well. “Think that’s his first and middle initials or first and last?”
Levi shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. That’s what his buddies called him.”
Dupree’s attention shifted to Trudy. “And when you’ve tapped into him. Has anyone called him by name?”
“No, but I’m hoping for that. The last time I connected with him, he was really wired. The bloodlust was roaring in him. He refers to his teacher as Sensei. I have that in the report. Sensei is looking for a new burial ground and his apprentice is getting tired of waiting for him. Both of them are excited about the possibility of me sharing their thoughts. They want me to see them in action because they think they’re brilliant.”
“Yeah, that sounds right. I see that a lot in serial killers,” Dupree said.
“They either think they’re Einstein Juniors or they know they should be in a padded cell or dead,” Levi said, getting a nod from both detectives.
Dupree turned to the first page of the report. “If you two don’t mind, I’d like to go over this with you line by line to be sure we’re all square.” He looked from Trudy to Levi. When neither said anything, he grinned. “Then we’ll compare notes. I gotta warn you, though. Y’all might be disappointed in what we have to give ya.”
Levi pursed his lips and Trudy knew he was on the verge of busting out a grin. He barely checked himself. “Anything you can tell us will be most appreciated, Detective Dupree.”
###
When the clouds obliterated the patchwork of ground below, Trudy turned away from the jet’s window. “I’m kind of sad leaving New Orleans.”
“We’ll be back,” Levi murmured beside her. He flipped through the report Dupree had handed him earlier that day.
“You told the detectives two weeks. I thought we’d be back in a week.”
“Hmmm?” He blinked and glanced at her. “Oh. Yeah. I have a couple of meetings on my schedule for the week after. I need to be at them.”
“Meetings on what?”
“A construction project that’s off the rails from its budget and the other one is with my team of architectural restorers and some jobs they’re wanting to bid on.”
She leaned closer to peer at the papers in his hands. “Anything interesting there?”
“Forté made the top of their suspect list after the third murder. His car had been spotted at the locations where the first victims went missing. One eye witness saw one of the victims get into a car like his. He was driving a black Caddy back then.”
“He wasn’t as slick as he thought.”
“Or he wasn’t being as careful because he didn’t think it was necessary. After the first three murders, his car wasn’t seen at any of the other abduction locations – or, rather, the places where the victims had lived, worked, or been seen at. In most cases, they don’t know where the victims were when they connected with him. He probably started renting vehicles or even borrowed them from friends.”
“But the cops never could get anything to stick?”
“Right. They even subpoenaed his car for a thorough search and came up with nothing.” He tapped the top paper. “By the time they got the subpoena, he’d sold the car to a guy who runs a car rental service. It had been wiped clean and rented out to six different parties when the police finally got it.”
She sat back and wiggled a little to get comfortable. “Sounds like they don’t have much to go on at all.”
“They’re not going to show us anything that they’re currently working on. But this is what they’ve done and what’s failed. Judging from what’s here and what isn’t here, I’d say they’re trying to discover who his apprentice is by keeping a close eye and ear on him. Forté’s not stupid, so he’s well aware of being the center of their attention.”
“And he’s probably loving it.”
Levi chuckled. “Probably. So, how are they communicating with each other?” He leaned his head back and stared ahead.
His question challenged her and she turned her full attention to it. How were they reaching each other? They couldn’t use a phone because the cops would be on that in a split second. Couldn’t write to each other. Their mail would be under surveillance, too.
“They could be using classified ads in newspapers and magazines like prisoners do,” Levi whispered, almost to himself. “But the detectives would be looking for that.”
“There are a lot of publications, though. They couldn’t read all of them.”
“No, and neither could we. I just don’t think that’s what’s happening, though.”
“Maybe they’re passing messages through other people. The messengers might not even be aware of it.”
“That’s entirely possible.” He closed the file. “Where is the basement? This report says that the Forté home has no basement. He couldn’t have been using the other guy’s because the basement showed up before he entered the picture. So, where the fuck is the basement?”
“You’re sure it’s a basement? Not just a structure built like a basement with cement walls?”
“There’s a drain in the floor. When they looked up, I could see a single bulb hanging from a wire. The ceiling looked like joists. It could be unfinished and open like you’d find in a cabin or loft. But it felt like the underside of a structure.”
He knew his architecture, she thought, so his gut feeling and observations were probably spot-on. “Were there windows? High up on the walls?”
“I haven’t seen any. Doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
“He has access to the place. If it belongs to him, the police would have found it by now. Public records and the like. Could be an abandoned place or somewhere owned by a friend or relative.”
“The cops would have chased down any place owned by someone he knows. They’ve had plenty of time to examine that rabbit hole.”
“We should watch and make a diary of who comes and goes from his house. I’d bet that someone is his courier, whether the person knows it or not.”
His gaze slid t
o her, assessing and shrewd. “I like the way you think, Miss Tucker.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Wolfe.”
He lifted her hand from the chair arm and brought the back of it to his lips and the tip of his tongue. Then he linked fingers with hers before resting their hands on the arm again. “Do you like the stuff they have in the Soniat House Antique Shop?”
“Yes. That’s why I sneak in there every chance I get.”
“And yet you didn’t buy anything.”
“Their prices are a little too high. I tried to negotiate the price down on a few items, but the sales clerk wouldn’t budge.”
He shook his head at her. “It’s not a pawn shop. It’s retail.”
“It’s an antique shop and I know my antiques and dealers. Negotiation is common. Expected, even.”
“Not at the Soniat House.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Evidently not. Their loss.”
“Truuuudeeee.”
She sent him a quelling look. When he drew out her name like that it usually meant he was about to lecture her on her stubbornness where penny pinching was concerned. “It’s my money to spend,” she recited to him. “How many times have you flung that at me? Well, it works both ways.”
“Soon it will be our money to spend and I want you to buy things for yourself instead of wishing for them.”
“I’m going to keep a bank account in my name.”
That silenced him for a few seconds as he gave her a considering look with an edge of aggravation to it. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s smart. Ask any financial counselor and she will tell you that a woman should have a bank account in her name even after she’s married. Think of it as mad money. Money I make and spend without regard to anyone else.”
“Or I could think of it as escape money. Money you have that you can use if you decide this relationship isn’t working for you.” He jerked his chin up and his eyes turned cold. “If you leave me, Trudy, you can take what you want. I won’t stop you. Take it all. Every fucking thing.”
