Cold Blood

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘You look very well,’ Lorraine said quietly.

  ‘Thank you, I am. Ah, refreshments.’

  Mssy passed them both tall fluted glasses of iced lemon tea, with slices of lemon and lime. It was refreshing, bittersweet.

  ‘Mmm, delicious,’ Elizabeth said, putting down her glass. ‘Cigarette?’

  Lorraine took out her own pack and lit Elizabeth’s first before her own.

  ‘Have you any results, any news?’ She could have been asking about a movie contract from an agent, she showed no emotion whatsoever. She was clearly in control of herself.

  ‘Well, I have certainly been kept very busy,’ Lorraine opened her note-book and took out her pen. ‘You know the Polar bears on Anna Louise’s bed, did you give them to her?’

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, but knew it was not a joke question. ‘No, I think Robert gave her three or four. She used to call him Polar because sometimes he can be very frosty, you know.’

  ‘Did he also give one to Tilda Brown?’

  Again, Elizabeth seemed slightly fazed by the question. ‘I really don’t know.’

  Lorraine looked at her directly. ‘Did you hear about Tilda Brown?’

  ‘Yes, I did, they were the first people I called on when I arrived. Tragic, just terrible.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I interviewed Tilda, just to go over her original statements, but she confirmed that she never saw Anna Louise.’

  Lorraine paused while Elizabeth sipped her iced tea, patting her lips with a folded white linen napkin.

  ‘Do you know a man called Fryer Jones?’

  Elizabeth blinked and then shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think I do.’

  ‘He was the only person the police arrested for questioning, an eye witness said he saw him on the night of the fifteenth talking to Anna Louise close to his bar near the French Quarter, not far from your hotel.’

  ‘I didn’t even know they had arrested anyone.’ She sounded surprised.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t put out as they released him the same evening. He had a number of alibis from people who stated he didn’t leave his bar the entire evening. There was a Jesse Corbello, his brother Willy, and young sister Sugar May, plus . . .’ Lorraine passed the handwritten sheet Rooney had jotted down from the police files. ‘Do you know any of these people at all?’

  ‘No, no. I’m sorry, I don’t.’

  ‘Do you know Edith Corbello at all?’

  ‘No.’

  Lorraine seemed to concentrate on her note-book, but she was watching Elizabeth closely, she had hardly given the list a glance. ‘But you know Juda Salina.’

  Mrs Caley was tensing up now, small signals of her unease showing. Her knees pressed close together, her arms twitched slightly. ‘Well, you know that I do.’

  ‘She is Edith Corbello’s sister, they used to be known as the Salina sisters.’

  Elizabeth suddenly gasped. ‘Of course, yes, I do recall her. I don’t know her but I remember Juda mentioning her sister, she’s married to Fryer Jones, I think.’

  Lorraine looked up, taken by surprise. She paused a moment before continuing. ‘There is also another son, Raoul Corbello, he was working for Juda in Los Angeles.’

  ‘I don’t recall the name.’

  ‘And also a second daughter, she’s eighteen, Ruby Corbello, she is about to be crowned.’

  ‘Not debutante of the year, surely!’

  ‘No, she is queen of a new black krewe in the Carnival, it’s apparently a great honour, and a big ceremony.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is. More tea?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Lorraine picked up her glass, she had only taken a few sips, and watched Elizabeth pluck at something on her skirt. ‘And what about Lloyd Dulay, do you know him?’

  Elizabeth’s head shot up and she stared wide-eyed at Lorraine. ‘Of course I know Lloyd, he’s a dear old friend.’

  ‘Anna Louise was his daughter,’ Lorraine said flatly.

  Elizabeth looked away, her cheeks flushed. ‘You have been busy. I hope you have been equally discreet, that is a very personal and private matter. Did he tell you or did Robert?’

  ‘It will remain private, Mrs Caley, I assure you, and Mr Dulay told me himself.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ She sighed and then said she felt tired, and if Lorraine had no further questions would she mind if she excused herself?

  ‘I saw your film The Swamp and I enjoyed it very much.’

  Elizabeth laughed, a little theatrically. ‘Oh, goodness me, where on earth did you see it?’

  ‘Mr Dulay kindly lent me a video. I noticed in the cast-list that both the Salina sisters and Fryer Jones were in the film, not large parts, basically extras.’

  ‘I didn’t mix with the extras, Mrs Page.’

  ‘But you saw a lot of Juda Salina.’

  ‘Yes, but not during the filming. We met up years later at some function here, and if you don’t mind me saying so, I really can’t see how that old film has got anything to do with you tracing my daughter. Good heavens, I was almost her age when I made it, so it was a long time ago.’

  ‘Do you believe in voodoo, Mrs Caley?’

  Her hand flapped. ‘Oh, really, I can’t answer that, no, no I can’t answer that.’

  ‘Did your daughter?’

  ‘I very much doubt it, she was a very sensible girl.’

  ‘So are many of the thousands of worshippers here. Do you know if Tilda Brown believed in it?’

  ‘Tilda? I wouldn’t know, but then one never knows what children get up to.’

  ‘She was hardly a child, she was the same age as Anna, almost nineteen . . .’ Lorraine wondered whether or not she should mention the doll. She knew Elizabeth was lying, her tic had become far more pronounced, as she brushed her skirt one moment, then picked at the flecks of the raw silk, then scratched with her long red fingernail.

  There was a long pause, and then Lorraine went for the kill. ‘I found a doll in Tilda Brown’s tennis racquet case. It was a disgusting, stinking, hand-made doll encased in excrement and urine. It was made, although crudely, to resemble Tilda, and even had a cut-out photograph of her face stuck on to the head. Human hair and, I think, possibly blood was matted on the top of it and there was a long pin sticking through the left eyeball out to the back of the head.’

  Elizabeth Caley stared at the toe of her sandal, very still now. There was another long pause before Lorraine continued, ‘Because of their distress, I have not been able to discuss my findings with Mr and Mrs Brown, but my partners are taking the doll to the mortuary, hopefully to get samples of Tilda’s hair and blood to see if they are a match.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with Anna Louise,’ Elizabeth said sharply.

  ‘Perhaps not, but do you know what that doll represents? According to a book I have on the voodoo culture, it is a terrible curse. It is, Mrs Caley, a death doll.’

  Lorraine flicked through one of the handbooks Rosie had bought from the museum. She found the page and pressed the book further open. ‘“Put hair of the person you want to affect in the side of the doll, use black pin where you wish to induce pain”, you will see a diagram—’

  ‘No, I don’t want to see it, take it away from me, please.’

  Lorraine closed the book. ‘This might have no connection to Anna Louise, but on the other hand, I must—’

  ‘Stop this right now, and do not for pity’s sake show the Browns anything so repellent. It is just appalling that you should even think that poor little Tilda would have—’

  ‘She wouldn’t have made the doll for herself. Somebody must have made it and given it to her. Maybe whoever did is guilty of manslaughter at the very least!’

  ‘No, she committed suicide.’

  ‘I know that, Mrs Caley, but Tilda was Anna Louise’s best friend and I am simply trying to ascertain if they played around, went to any ceremonies.’

  ‘No, absolutely not. No.’

  ‘But you are very close to Juda Salina, at one time a high priestess, as was
her sister. Edith Corbello is apparently less active now, but still runs a spiritualist group and a similar practice to her sister’s in LA. Juda Salina doesn’t mention the voodoo connection, but hands out leaflets to her clients advertising that she is a psychic medium, reads tarot cards, specializes in trances and hypnotism, spiritualism and . . . voodoo. I have a copy of her leaflet—’

  ‘No, I do not know anything about this.’

  ‘But as Anna Louise went to Mrs Salina on a number of occasions with you, might she not have seen this? And being young and impressionable she may have started messing around with the occult.’

  Elizabeth pushed her chair back, scraping the beautiful antique rug. ‘I do not want to repeat myself, Mrs Page, but this has gone far enough. I do not wish to discuss this element in any way whatsoever. In fact, if you believe Anna is dead, then I see no point in your continuing.’

  Lorraine stood up. ‘No point? I am trying to find out if your daughter was murdered and at the same time who is responsible. She has been missing for eleven months.’

  ‘I know that?

  ‘So why say there is no point in pursuing this angle?’

  ‘Voodoo is not an angle, Mrs Page, it is a way of life, and you probably would not understand the complexities of it. It is taken very seriously here and is not, as you have implied, similar to the occult or black magic. It is not used for curses or evil, but the reverse, it is practised as a safeguard against sickness and is spiritually uplifting.’

  ‘I am trying to learn, Mrs Caley, and if you have any information I would be grateful.’

  ‘What do you mean, information? I don’t have any information, why do you think I hired you? And as I did hire you, Mrs Page, I am now dismissing you. I will fully reimburse any costs you have accumulated to date, but I no longer wish you to continue this investigation.’

  ‘I am sorry, but I can’t walk away from this.’

  ‘Of course you can, you’re only hired, you have no personal ties to keep you.’

  ‘I’m afraid I do. You see, my partner was murdered working on this case, so I have strong personal reasons why I would like to bring it to a conclusion.’

  Elizabeth hesitated, but did not ask any further details about the murder, dismissing it. ‘You seem to have forgotten what that conclusion was, Mrs Page.’

  ‘Not at all, it was to find your daughter, dead or alive.’

  ‘But you have not found her.’

  ‘And my time is not up. I still have over a week to go, we have an agreement.’

  ‘And I am paying you off, finished. Phyllis will send you a cheque. Now, if you will excuse me.’

  ‘One million, Mrs Caley, you can pay off the final week now or whenever, but the contract still stands.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, it was a verbal—’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. We have it in writing, one million dollars. So even if you did pay me off, I wouldn’t leave, not until I had covered every possible avenue. I’m sorry.’

  Elizabeth’s hands were clenched tightly, her face set in a hard, furious glare. ‘You don’t know what you are getting into, Mrs Page.’

  ‘One never does on a case, Mrs Caley. That’s what makes it so interesting, the unexpected twists and turns.’

  Elizabeth’s voice was hushed, threatening. ‘You might just get something unexpected here, and believe me, you will wish to God you had walked away.’

  Lorraine felt drained as Elizabeth Caley left the room, her footsteps echoing on the black and white chequer-board tiles of the hall as she called out, ‘Missy, Mrs Page is leaving, show her out!’

  The maid appeared at the door.

  ‘No need, Mssy, I’ll do that.’

  Lorraine replaced her note-book in her briefcase and turned as the door slammed shut and Robert Caley stood there.

  ‘You’ve got a fucking nerve coming to the house.’

  She snapped her case closed, her legs shaking at seeing him so unexpectedly. She took a hold of herself and looked up, meeting his eyes.

  ‘I owe you an apology. I said things I shouldn’t have without verification. I am sincerely sorry.’

  He stuck his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Sorry? You bad-mouth me to my partners, you pass around scurrilous, disgusting accusations about myself and my daughter, you remove details of private papers from my desk and—’

  ‘I have said I am sorry.’

  ‘It’s not good enough. I want a formal letter of retraction sent to Lloyd Dulay.’

  She blushed and could not meet his eyes. ‘But you were using Anna Louise’s trust find illegally.’

  ‘You don’t back off an inch, do you, Mrs Page? That one-million-dollar bonus must be a big incentive.’

  ‘Maybe as big as your daughter’s trust is to you?’

  ‘Touché!’

  Lorraine picked up her briefcase. ‘I am not scoring points, Robert.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  She sighed. ‘No, I am not. I am trying to do my job, that’s all.’

  He was so angry he wanted to throttle her. ‘Does that include fucking someone for information the way you used to for a drink?’

  She wanted to say that it had meant so much to her, she wanted to drop her briefcase and go into his arms. Instead she froze him out, her eyes without a flicker of emotion, so direct and cold it was he who broke the moment, turning away from her.

  ‘Did you give Anna Louise toy white Polar bears?’

  He shook his head in disbelief. ‘What?’

  ‘She had a row of white bears on her pillow, you gave them to her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And your nickname, or pet name was Polar?’

  ‘Yes, yes, it was.’

  ‘Did you also give one of the same white bears to Tilda Brown?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you recall how many you gave to your daughter?’

  He had to sit down. She was snapping out the questions as if he was some suspect held on a rap in a police station.

  ‘It’s important, Robert, how many?’

  ‘Five, for her thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays. I then said there was no more room for them, they were to mark her teenage years, for her diaries.’

  ‘Her diaries?’

  He rubbed his head. ‘Yes, the bears unzip, they have a sort of secret pocket where she used to keep her yearly diary.’

  Lorraine could feel the buzz. ‘Did the police ever see them?’

  He shook his head. ‘No . . .’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They weren’t there. Maybe she grew out of them, I don’t know.’

  Lorraine’s buzz went flat fast. ‘Shit! Okay, now can you try and remember if on that flight, the one on the fifteenth, Anna Louise carried or packed one of those bears?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘It’s very important, Robert, think.’ He shook his head, and she came closer. ‘When you went into her bedroom at the hotel did you see one of the white bears?’ He sighed, and she moved even closer. ‘Shut your eyes and think, Robert. You said her purse was in the sitting room and her new dress was laid out in the bedroom, so you must have looked at the bed.’

  ‘Why? What’s so important?’

  She was close enough to bend down and touch him but she remained upright. ‘When I went into Anna Louise’s bedroom in LA, I found four bears lined up on her pillows. Four, Robert, not five, four.’’

  He reached out, not looking at her, and stroked her calf, her leg so slim he could almost slip his hand right around it. ‘No, there wasn’t one in the hotel.’ He eased her round to stand in front of him and leaned forward, his head pressed into her crotch. ‘Why did you not even answer one call, Lorraine, why?’

  ‘I wanted to, Robert, but I was too guilty. I was all out of kilter that day, tired from being with you. And I suppose when Tilda hinted about you and Anna, and Dulay told me about the trust fund, maybe I was jealous, or plain angry, but I have no excuse, I should not have said the things I sa
id without . . .’

  She could feel his breath, his lips pressing through her skirt, but a part of her mind was working by itself. She remembered Phyllis saying she packed the day they left, or was it Elizabeth?

  ‘I have to go, Robert.’

  He dropped his hands and rested back in the chair, looking up at her. ‘What’s so important about the bear?’

  She had picked up her briefcase and was already crossing to the door. ‘Tilda Brown said Anna Louise did not see her on the fifteenth, but what if she was lying? What if the bear was a peace offering, because they’d had such an argument? It was over you, Robert, do you know that? Your daughter was jealous of the attention you gave Tilda.’

  He stood up, hands wide. ‘Jealous? She was jealous of little Tilda?’

  ‘On that day, before you went to work, you passed Tilda on the tennis courts, remember? You kissed her because she was crying, and Anna Louise saw it.’

  ‘It was harmless, I swear before God!’

  ‘I know that, but Anna Louise didn’t, and I think it sparked off a jealous rage, which resulted in—’

  ‘Tilda leaving . . .’

  She nodded, then looked at the phone. ‘Can I make a call?’

  She didn’t wait for an answer, dialling the Caleys’ home in LA. Phyllis answered, and before she could even enquire how Lorraine was, she was asked if she recalled seeing Anna Louise packing, on the fifteenth. Phyllis fell silent.

  ‘Phyllis, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I am, I’m thinking. You see, I never did any packing or anything like that, but I remember Mrs Caley asking if I’d check to see if Anna Louise had packed any nice dresses as she would be invited to a lot of parties and—’

  Lorraine interrupted. ‘Did you see what was in her bags?’

  ‘Well, yes, and so did Mrs Caley, they were full of T-shirts and sneakers.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I don’t think so. They had a bit of a tiff about it later because Mrs Caley told Anna to go and repack. But I never saw what was in the bag and I don’t think Mrs Caley did. Was it something important?’

  Lorraine said it wasn’t, and thanked Phyllis. As she replaced the receiver, Missy appeared at the door.