by John Moore
“I need your help,” I said.
I ran through the entire story concisely like a journalist pitching a story to an editor. Jess had no patience for long-winded dissertations. Years in the newspaper business relating just the facts had honed her skills to machine-like efficiency.
“The bottom line, Jess, is I need the Times to research Victor Ivanovich’s operation in other cities. I think he is moving into New Orleans the same way he’s done in other metropolitan areas with convention sites. There are more working girls either missing or dead than usual. I think he’s killing them off,” I said.
She told me she’d already assigned a reporter to work on the story for the possible serial killer point of view. She said she’d get him to contact me to follow up on the lead I had and see if maybe Victor was behind all of the killings.
“Alexandra, I have something to talk to you about as well. the Times is working on a story about Susan McAllister and Sarah’s House for Battered Women and Children. We’ve looked into the background of Ms. McAllister and know all about her mother’s conviction for poisoning her father. We also found out her mother’s family came to the United States from Russia. Aconite is made from a plant that grows in mountainous regions of Central Asia, Russia, Europe, and Great Britain. We discovered she visits her mother in prison every week. According to our sources, she has been researching her mother’s family and has recently made contact with her Russian relatives.”
“That doesn’t mean she did anything wrong,” I said.
“No, but it does mean she had access to the people who could furnish the poison. Detective Baker is the lead investigator on the case, so you know she’ll get a fair shake.”
I knew the Times had to write a story about the death at the center. I only hoped it wouldn’t stir public opinion against it. Piper sat next to me, pretending to listen to every word; her eyes were fixed on Henry groaning at the computer.
“There’s something wrong with the server configuration,” Henry blurted, clearly frustrated. “I’ll have to take it with me to my office and see if I can reprogram it.”
“Are you crazy?” Jess asked. “I have a deadline to meet. I don’t have time for your computer crap talk.”
Piper raised her hand like a student in a schoolroom, looking into Jess’s eyes. “What is it, girl?” Jess barked.
“Can I look at the computer?” Piper asked.
Henry rose to his feet, casting his eyes up and down Piper. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” he said.
“Well,” Jess said, “you don’t seem to know how to fix it.” She turned her eyes to Piper. “Go ahead and give it a try.”
Jess’s chair swallowed Piper whole. Her feet could barely touch the floor as she scooted the chair forward. When her fingers hit the keyboard the clicking of the keys sounded like ten trains running down the same track. Within two minutes of feverishly typing, she said, “Try it now.”
Henry gazed at the screen. “I’ll be a son of a bitch. She’s fixed it.”
Piper slinked back beside me. Jess lifted the corners of her mouth, letting a smile take over her face. She winked at me then went back to our conversation about the center. I knew her smile meant she was impressed, seriously impressed by Piper. I explained Victor’s crazed desire to send Piper to Russia to hack computers for him. We agreed to dig deeper into the story to ferret out the truth of Tiffany’s murder.
“Now get the hell out of here,” Jess said. “I have a deadline to meet. Piper, you can come back to see me anytime. And don’t you worry. This is our town, and you are one of us now. We don’t like outsiders messing with our folks. Mr. Ivanovich may have to learn that the hard way.”
We’d spent a little longer with Jess than I’d planned. We battled the traffic back to the center to meet Ms. Butler from the Department of Family Services. She’d arrived ahead of us and was chatting with some of the residents when we walked in. After the introductions, we walked to Susan’s office. Piper sat in the desk chair to get on Susan’s computer, and Ms. Butler and I perched on the couch, facing each other.
“So this is the young lady you went to California to retrieve,” Ms. Butler said, eying Piper. “The ladies told me she’s your boyfriend’s niece. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said. I went on to explain Tom and I were given temporary custody by the court since Piper was abandoned by her mother and her father was killed. “We are seeking permanent custody and hope to have the entire matter concluded in a month.”
She raised one eyebrow as she listened to the saga of Piper’s life. “Interesting,” she said. “Now let’s talk about the unfortunate events that led to the poisoning of Tiffany and the arrest of Susan McAllister. I have spoken to Detective Baker, who informs me Ms. McAllister is in jail and not likely to be released anytime soon. Are you running the center in her absence?”
“Yes, I am committed to helping these women and ensuring the center’s work goes on. Susan McAllister is innocent. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. She is dedicated to the mission of this sanctuary for abused women and children. I’ll stay here as long as necessary.”
“I see,” she said. “My department will have to launch a full investigation into the center. There are children here, and the department must be certain they are safe and well provided for. The director of the department asked me to personally investigate allegations that the children are at risk. I will bring in a team to help me interview each and every resident. I have asked the state fire marshal to examine the building and to write a report on its compliance with the fire codes. I’ll render a report to my supervisor when I finish. We will advise you of the action we intend to take at that time. Do you have any questions?”
“What do you mean by action you intend to take?”
“We have several options, ranging from no action at all to removing all of the children from this center and closing the entire facility down.”
“Oh my God,” I said as I gasped for air. “Shutting the facility down? Where would these poor people go if you closed the center down?”
“If their mothers cannot provide for them—and I assume they can’t or they wouldn’t be here—we would make the children wards of the state and place them in foster care. The ladies would be responsible for themselves. There are some assistance programs, but that is not my department. The women would receive the proper referrals. Ms. Lee, surely you understand the gravity of this. A resident of this facility was murdered on these premises, and the director who oversees them was charged with her murder. We can’t allow children to be at risk. They are better off in foster care.”
Ms. Butler’s expression changed. She focused her eyes narrowly on me as she picked up her purse to leave. “You may want to consider getting a lawyer.”
She turned and walked out of the office without saying goodbye or even looking back.
Chapter Twenty-Three:
The State
Get a lawyer, why would I need a lawyer? Theresa Butler was on a mission to close the center. I didn’t know if someone was pulling her strings or if she was acting on her own. Either way, she had the power to shut us down. I couldn’t let that happen. What would Sarah think? The center was the legacy she left on earth. No way was I going to let her down. And what about Susan? She’d poured her heart and soul into this place. If the center were closed where would she go?
I didn’t like the direction things were headed, and I was so tired I couldn’t think straight. I needed sleep in the worst way. Maybe tomorrow I’d have clearer thoughts on how to get out of this mess. I asked Piper to sleep in Susan’s room with me, wanting to keep her close so no one could hurt her. I fell into an uneasy sleep, waking every two hours to assure myself Piper was still next to me. Thoughts swirled through my mind like a tornado cutting through our cornfield back on the farm in Indiana. Was Tom OK? Would the charges against Susan stick? What would Victor do to us? How could I battle all of
the forces trying to destroy the people I love? My thought storm raged through the night without letting up. Finally the sun signaled the beginning of a new day.
What was going on with Susan’s case? I picked up my phone and called Detective Baker. When he answered he seemed a little more distant than normal. “Detective Baker, have you been able to develop any new information on Tiffany’s connection to Victor Ivanovich?”
“Ms. Lee, you will have to direct your questions to Inspector Jaeger. He is in charge of the investigation of Tiffany’s murder, and I am not at liberty to discuss this matter with you. It is police business. You may want to call Jess Johnson if you want to know the information the police department has released to the press. I have to take another call now.” Baker hung up the phone.
What the hell was going on? Baker spoke in a lower pitch than usual. He had never been so formal with me. Something was definitely wrong. I phoned Jess without putting my phone down.
“Alexandra, I was just about to call you,” Jess said. “Demetre came to my house early this morning to drink coffee with me. He felt like he needed to speak to me face-to-face about the investigation into Tiffany’s murder. He’s been removed from the investigation.”
“Removed. Why? He was the lead investigator.”
“He’s been disciplined by the department for getting you into the jail to see Susan McAllister. They feel like he has compromised the investigation by allowing a suspect in an ongoing investigation to speak to a co-defendant. Inspector Alric Jaeger has been placed in charge of developing the case. He has convinced the chief and the district attorney’s office to investigate your and Ms. McAllister’s involvement in a prostitution ring operating out of the center. You’d better get a lawyer.”
My pulse quickened, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, my hands felt clammy, and I nearly dropped the telephone. “Me. I am a suspect in a prostitution ring? How could they possibly think I’d do anything like that?”
“Baker knows it’s bullshit, but his hands are tied. He told me a couple of the women at the center are telling the police you and Susan approached them to turn tricks for you. They claimed you told them if they wanted to stay at the center they’d have to work off their room and board.”
“Who? Which ones? Someone is putting them up to saying those things. Surely Detective Baker knows they are lying.”
“Of course he does. It doesn’t matter what Demetre believes. He can’t go near the case. Jaeger is running the show now. Alexandra, you are going to have to fight this yourself. I’ll help as much as I can, but it’s up to you to set things straight. Be careful who you talk to at the center. Somebody there is telling the police you are running a prostitution ring. Whatever their agenda is, they’ve convinced the police to go after you. This whole matter has the smell of Louisiana politics at its worst. You are caught in the political meat grinder, and they’ll bury you if you don’t fight back,” Jess said.
Jess spoke from experience. She’d spent years reporting below-the-belt body blows thrown in the Louisiana political arena. It wasn’t a place for the faint of heart. In 1930, Louisiana’s sitting governor, Huey Long, ran for the United States Senate. Every newspaper opposed him. To silence a particularly bothersome pair of critics, Long recruited some henchmen to break into their hotel room in the middle of the night and kidnap both men and tie them to a tree on election day. Long won the election and was never charged with kidnapping. That was just the way the game was played in Louisiana. Everyone knew it, and everyone expected it.
No sooner did I hang up with Jess than I received a text from Charlotte. “Alexandra. I need you to come to Superior Sugar’s office now.”
I texted back, “I’m tied up at the moment. Can it wait?”
“No!” she texted. “I need you here now.”
Holy shit, Charlotte. This was the second time she had panicked, not her normal style. Piper was up and ready, so we scooted to Superior Sugar headquarters. When I pulled into the parking lot I noticed all of the flags were at half-mast. Charlotte met me at the door, and just like the last time I saw her, she had reddened puffy eyes from crying. She broke down into tiny fragments when I hugged her. She sobbed and wailed, making sounds that reminded me of the primal scream made by a woman during natural childbirth. I knew what had happened. Mr. Morris had died. She didn’t need to say it.
I kept my arm around her and walked to her office. “It’s OK, Charlotte. He’s out of pain now. I know you’ll miss him, but he’s no longer suffering.”
Piper sat next to me and leaned in to rest her shoulder against my arm. I put my arm around her as we watched Charlotte dry her tears with a tissue. “Mr. Morris was such a good man. His heart was pure gold,” she said.
Before she could complete her thoughts, Mandy Morris burst into the room dressed all in black as usual. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked Charlotte, shaking a cluster of legal-size papers stapled together.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlotte answered, temporarily shocked out of her tearful state by Mandy’s insolent tone.
“This is a copy of my father’s will. He has left everything to me except the ownership of that stevia company. He’s split the ownership of it 80 percent to you, Charlotte, and 20 percent to you, Alexandra.” Her eyes shot invisible laser beams at Charlotte as she spoke. “Have you been fucking my father? Is that why he left you the company? I can understand him giving a portion to Alexandra. She’s talented and essential to the company’s success. But not you.”
Charlotte shot to her feet and headed around the desk toward Mandy. Her eyes were ablaze with rage, and she clenched both fists. Mandy took a step back. I lunged between them to stop the carnage. Charlotte drew deep breaths in and out trying to calm herself; her face blazed red.
“Get away from me, you psycho bitch, before I scratch your eyes out of your head,” Charlotte screamed. “I quit. No notice. No time to train someone to take my place. I quit. You and your pervert uncle can sell your poisonous sugar on your own.”
Mandy turned and tromped out of the door. Charlotte started emptying her desk drawers. I retrieved boxes from the recycle bin, and just like that she was packed and out the door. As we walked to her car carrying the boxes, she looked at me with a steady flow of tears rolling down her face. I knew she would miss Mr. Morris, but she’d miss Superior Sugar too. Charlotte’s marketing work helped build Superior Sugar. Her heart must be broken. I asked if she wanted me to go to her house with her and hang out and talk.
“No, Alexandra. I just need to be alone for a while. You and Piper can call me later. I am sorry to say that Mandy will probably cancel your contract as well. We will have to get to work on the stevia company soon. I will need the income,” she said.
Boy, was she right about needing the income. My funds were getting low, and I wouldn’t have any steady income if I lost the Superior Sugar account. I’m sure the account was lost. Mandy may want me to work for her, but I’d just be trapped in the middle between her and Charlotte. I didn’t want to work with Garrett Morris anyway. Mandy was hard enough to take with her dark side dominating her personality, but Garrett was another thing altogether. He was a sick pervert, the perfect pair to push life-shortening sugar on the uneducated public. With all of my other problems, now I had no dependable income.
The thought of being broke occupied my mind as Piper and I went back to the center. When we arrived we were greeted by the sight of a metal herd of state motor pool cars in the driveway. Inside, Theresa Butler led a team of Department of Family Service workers through the building. She hadn’t bothered to call me to let me know she was coming. Her surprise attack must have been part of her master plan. When she spotted me, she walked my way.
“Ms. Lee. These workers are going to need privacy to interview the residents and inspect the premises. Is there any place you can go while we do our job?”
Any place I could go? This bitch
was starting to piss me off. This center was a sanctuary for abused women and children, not a springboard for some political agenda. I was about to tell her how I felt, when Inspector Jaeger walked into the center with four uniformed officers and two plainclothes detectives flanking him. He strutted to me and gave me a sideways glance before he surveyed the state workers pairing up with the residents to question them.
Jaeger turned his attention to Ms. Butler and said, “I want a typed copy of every statement you take from the residents. My investigators will debrief each of your people when they are finished. I want a dossier on every person who’s been here in the last six months. If they have a job, I want to know about it. If they leave at night, I want to know where they went. Susan McAllister’s office and bedroom are now crime scenes. I want them sealed off. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the officers said. I watched as Ms. Butler sidled up to Inspector Jaeger to get within whisper range.
She faux-whispered, making certain I could hear, “You can count on my complete cooperation. Something is terribly wrong here; trust me, we will get to the bottom of it.”
Jaeger acknowledged her comment with a slight nod of his bald head as he turned his attention to me. “Ms. Lee, it would be in your best interest to leave us. You might just dig yourself a deeper hole if you attempt to stay here.”
Young Karen Durio, who’d watched the entire orchestrated drama play out, said, “Don’t worry, Alexandra, I’ll watch over things here till you are able to come back.”
I forced a smile and cast it in her direction. God I hope she’s sincere. I was still a bit stunned by what was happening. I took Piper by the hand and headed to my condo. Traffic was heavy, which usually added to my stress level. But for some reason today it was welcome. None of the people in the cars were out to get me. They just wanted to get home to their families, and I just wanted to keep mine together.
