“I cleared my throat. “One more thing, Mr. Alexander. Are you the head of a human trafficking ring operating out of your docks? Do you sell women?”
In my peripheral, Tara reared back with saucer eyes, but said nothing.
Alexander gave us no reaction at first, but then laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“So, you don’t go to Molly’s Girls to pick out the new crop? Cater Winslow’s parties to find the gems to sell overseas? I’ll bet beautiful American girls go for huge bucks.”
His eyes seemed to grow darker. “I work hard and I often work late. You want to know why, detective?” He paused. “Because I have no family. No family to go home to. You are a lucky man to have a loving wife and daughter.”
“You Russians love to veil threats, don’t you.”
He waved me off. “Leave my restaurant before I file a complaint.”
I pulled out my weapon to inspect it. “I know warnings are popular these days. Well, here’s a warning. I’m holding you responsible for anything that happens from here on out. Eye for an eye. I love that saying.”
Tara grabbed my arm. “Lucas, let’s go.”
“Listen to the lady detective, before you secure greater regrets in your life.”
I stood and leaned over the desk, putting my face within inches of his. My eyes bore into his. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t blink. I didn’t move. A few moments later, Tara pulled me back and we exited.
#
A call to Heather gave me temporary relief, but my day wasn’t done. The afternoon sun had long dipped out of sight, allowing nocturnal establishments to lure tourists to the streets. Molly’s Girls vibrated with life and the customers were gaining, most saving the stripper experience until they were good and lit. Tara and I maneuvered through the tables to the back hallway where I recognized the bouncer from last time.
“Detectives, how are you?” He folded his arms as if on instinct.
“Ray here?” I asked.
“Mr. Corondelet didn’t come in today. Ms. Tabitha’s here.”
“Can you get her for us?”
The bouncer didn’t move, but spoke into his collar. “Ms. Tabitha, you have guests.”
A moment later, the stunning dancer-turned-manager strolled out wearing an elegant red evening gown. “I assume you’re not here for the show.”
“You look like the queen of the debutante ball.”
“A canceled engagement, I’m afraid.”
“You expecting Mr. Corondelet anytime soon?”
“That’s why I’m here now. He should be here, but I believe he’s running late from a meeting in Baton Rouge, probably gambling. He’s not picking up his phone.”
“We need to talk about Keri Sullivan… or Cozy Robicheaux if you didn’t know her real name.”
Her tough exterior immediately evaporated. “You guys want a Coke? Follow me to the bar.”
The music was just loud enough to cover our conversation. Tabby ordered us three Cokes and then offered a secluded table nearby. We sat close, like familiar college friends, with Tabitha in the middle.
Tabitha started without prompting. “I know she’s not Keri Sullivan. Last night, Cozy confessed to me that Haley Robicheaux was her sister and how she’s been searching for the people responsible. She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”
“She’s wanted for the murder of a local drug dealer and is a person of interest in the shooting of Vincent Dean. I’m afraid there may be more in her wake.”
“She killed someone?”
“When was the last time you’ve seen her?”
“Last night we had dinner at Antoine’s. It was late and we were drunk, so I let her sleep on my couch.”
“She obviously doesn’t believe you’re the killer,” I said. “With your being alive.”
“I suppose.”
“Where is she now?”
Tabitha glanced back and forth at us, settling on Tara’s gentle eyes. “I don’t want to go to jail.”
Tara spoke with concern. “Why would you go to jail?”
“For being an accessory or accomplice… Whatever it’s called for knowing beforehand.”
“You would only be arrested for obstruction of justice if you lie to us now,” I explained.
She exhaled while looking up at the muted glow of the strobes. “I know where Cozy is.”
“Where?”
“I’m afraid of what she might do if cornered. You can’t hurt her.”
“That’s the last thing we want. We’ll give her every chance.”
“I know the NOPD. You’ll roll in with sirens blaring and scare the shit out of her. Then what?”
“It’s just me and Detective Gray. We’ll go in alone.”
“I have a number to her burner cell. Would you be satisfied if I could just get her here?”
“She’ll run. Tell us where she is.” I said.
“She won’t run. She’s at one of Ray’s parties.” Tabby already had the number dialed. “Pick up, Cozy. Pick up.” She waited, the hope drained from her face. “They probably took her phone. She’s not answering.”
“We’ll go pick her up, alone and safely.”
“It’s an hour away. You’re going to call it in, and then who knows what the Keystone Cops out there will do.”
“We won’t call it in.” I touched her hand. “Tabitha, I give you my word Tara and I will drive out there to get Cozy ourselves.”
Her lips pulled up into a tiny smile. “You two have a special relationship, don’t you?”
“Despite myself, yes. Where is she?”
Tabitha hesitated, sucking in her cheek. “She’s at The LeCoure Mansion on River Road.”
“Don’t call her again, but if she calls you from a different location…” I squeezed her fingers. “…tell her to meet you back here and then give us a call. Like you, I don’t want to see her hurt.”
#
For two hours Cozy mingled with some of the countries most powerful political figures in a grand ballroom. High ceilings held crystal chandeliers and tall round tables without chairs were strategically placed apart on an immaculate red carpet. Men in bow ties passed around little bites of food and glasses of bubbly. She observed many old and unattractive men talking with young, beautiful women. Nothing odd about that.
A bell sounded and the men acted as if it was last call. All the women filed into a satellite room and waited. Eventually, a sturdy man in a glittery Mardi Gras mask escorted her by the hand up a winding staircase, past portraits of Confederate soldiers. They stopped at a room where the man held out a key for Cozy to view. He turned and unlocked the oversized door.
“The safe word is coconut.” He stepped aside.
“Coconut,” she repeated.
The man didn’t enter the room, but he shut the door once she entered. The four-poster bed had a mattress that seemed unusually high, but more luxurious than any she’d ever felt. The furniture matched the era of the house, as far as she knew, including uncomfortable looking paisley chairs with busy patterns and a dazzling chandelier. Elegant paintings with gold leaf frames adorned the walls and in the center of the room lay a large green area rug on shiny brown hardwood and not a speck of dust.
Her outfit had been laid out, specific to her size, as Ray must have planned on her showing. Cozy stripped down naked in complete silence, putting on a red, leather, skin-tight dress with thigh-high boots. She strutted back and forth, getting used to the character she was to play. He wants to be dominated, she thought with a smile. She could pull that off.
“On your knees, dog.” She swatted the horsewhip onto the mattress. “Lick my boots.” She laughed, pretending to kick him in the ass, and then growled in the mirror with a devilish sneer. “You… Are… Pathetic.”
A knock on the door startled her. It opened a crack and an older man with graying hair peered inside. “Mistress Keri?”
Time to begin. “Get your sorry ass in here. Now.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He shuffled in, wearing a sh
arp pinstripe suit and power tie.
“You think I’m impressed? Strip out of those rags before you make me really angry.”
After he tossed his shirt and pants aside, Cozy secured a dog collar and leash on top the dresser, wrapping it around his wrinkled neck. They played the game, back and forth for twenty minutes and Cozy held her own. She had to force herself not to gut this disturbed individual by remembering he had been with Haley. He probably spent most of his day treating people like shit; always in control and this was his way to let go. She lured him onto the bed as she knotted up lengths of nylon rope that had been supplied. Once gagged with his hands tied to each post, she got down to business.
#
“Coconut! Coconut!”
The senator’s arms and legs were pulled tight, his erection long gone. Cozy closed the mouth-zipper shut on his leather mask. “Say it all you want, it won’t make you safe.”
She waved her switchblade and his eyes grew wider than the narrow slits that allowed sight. He frantically mumbled something as his frail body flopped like a fish. When his energy finally subsided, she took his thumb and placed the tip of the switchblade under the manicured nail, scraping at its underbelly. “I need some information.”
Incoherent sounds vibrated under the mask as his fingers stiffened, not yet curling under. His eyes pleaded with her.
“You want to say something? Okay, but if I unzip your mask, you have to stay quiet. One shout for help and this blade goes in your throat.” She pushed the tip against his jugular. “Got it?”
He nodded and she pulled the zipper open. He fumbled through his sentence. “What do you want?”
“Tell me about Mistress Haley.”
“Haley? The dancer that turned up dead?”
“So, you know her. This is a promising start.”
“I did not kill her. We had sex. That was all.” His aging skin hung off his face.
“Of course you’re going to deny killing her, Senator. I’m about to pop off your fingernails one by one.”
“All I have is my word. I’m a senator, damn it. Why would I risk my career by killing someone?”
“It’s because you’re a senator that you can kill someone. People like Ray Corondelet will always clean up your messes. Oh, well.” She zipped the mouth closed and stuck the tip of the blade halfway up his thumbnail before he could wiggle it away.
The mask muted the old man’s agonizing screams. His bloody hand jolted from her grasp and she exhaled, making a show of her patience. When his moaning subsided, she unzipped the mask while blood dripped on the corner of the mattress.
He whispered, “If I say anything, they’ll kill me or disgrace me and my career.”
“Then the question is: when do you want to die? Because if you’re still not talking by the time I’m done, I’m killing you anyway. You tell me what I want to know, you’ll live through the night.”
“This isn’t happening. I’m a very powerful man.” But his failing voice betrayed that statement.
Cozy zipped the mouth shut again and secured his arm under her armpit. When she couldn’t get him to unclench his smeared red fist, she jabbed the knife between his knuckles like she was shucking an oyster. When his hand opened, she ran the knife under the exposed thumbnail again. With a full body jolt, he gazed at the nail that resembled the open hood of a car.
After a series of growling muffled cries, she unzipped the mask for him to speak, this time as a weak, scared old man. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything. Okay? Please.”
“Just remember that I already know a lot. If you lie, you lose another nail. Go.”
“Haley was going to be sold.”
“Sold?”
“It’s the truth. Some of the girls that come to these parties get sold. I don’t know to who.”
“Like slaves?”
“Sex slaves. Most girls return home so as not to draw suspicion, but the special ones are offered to the highest bidder. The party’s like an audition. And like an auction.”
“I believe you. The thing I want to know is who was selling her and who was buying her.”
“I don’t know. Foreigners come to this. I’m not involved in that.”
Cozy took his pinky finger and brought the knife to rest under his nail.
He shrunk like a slug with salt. “The girls are kept in a warehouse on the Apex Industries property until they decide to move them.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s the Claiborne Container Terminal on the river… Right off Napoleon.”
“Who’s in charge there?”
“I don’t know anyone from Apex. I just know the girls are brought there because the place is immune from inspections. It’s protected.”
“I’m pleased with your cooperation. Go on.”
Saliva collected on the mouth slit of the mask. He stammered, “When they get enough girls, they put them in a cargo container to be shipped. Sometimes mass quantities of girls are imported, but they don’t come to these parties. I hear some of the less desirable ones are donors for black market body parts. Ray controls that. I don’t buy or sell; I just participate.”
“You sick freaks. Why was Haley killed if she was going to be sold?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she fought back or pissed someone off. Maybe she knew what was happening and slashed her own face.” His body bounced as he sobbed. “I swear she was alive when I left her.”
Cozy backed away, and sat, pulling off her stilettos with eyes on Folsom. His body sagged like Jesus on the cross. She put her regular dress back on, and then searched Folsom’s coat pockets until finding his cell phone. “I’ll bet you’re very photogenic. Does your wife and kids know how photogenic you are?”
His voice calmed, speaking like a father. “There is no place on earth for you to hide. These men will find you and kill you, you know. Or sell you like the others.”
Cozy looked outside the window to the tree with its outstretched limbs. “You let me worry about that. I’ll be long gone before they feel the need to bust down the door.”
“You don’t need to send those pictures… My wife already knows.”
“Really. Don’t worry, Senator. If your information pans out, I’ll destroy the pictures and video. But, if you’re lying, well, the American public would like to know the habits of their elected officials. I’m turning your GPS off, too.”
#
The light flashed on. Ray’s pupils reacted to an explosion as intense as the Hiroshima bomb. Despite feeling like tiny laser beams had seared his brain, he needed to see who had entered his home. Fearful that Cozy had returned, he stayed still – not that he had a choice.
“Aren’t you a sight?” The tape was ripped off his lips.
“About time you got here. Get something to cut me loose… and get me some water. God, I’m fucking thirsty.”
“Let me guess… Cozy Robicheaux, vigilante.”
Ray’s eyes had finally adjusted to the light. “When I get my hands on her, I’m going to skin her, and then kill her.”
“No, you won’t. She’s worth too much. So, what’d you give up? Did you tell her anything?”
“Nothing of real importance.” His head rotated in a stretch.
“You’re lying.”
“I told her nothing,” he insisted.
“So, she left you here alive and left with nothing.”
Ray squinted. “Yeah… She’s got nothing.”
“Then, you’re a lucky bastard. I just got a call; she worked the same magic on Folsom, but he spilled his guts. He’s got to make up some reason why he lost a thumbnail and got fifteen stitches on three of his fingers.”
“It only took three fingers for him to cave? Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
“More bad news. She’s in the wind.”
“She escaped the party? How incompetent can your guys be?”
His associate looked closer between Ray’s legs. “She got away from you. But unlike you, Folsom didn’t get waxed or have his nut
sack torn off. Ah, it’s not that bad, but it looks like she took a lawnmower to you.”
“Cut me out of this tape, damn it.” He tried to rock his body. “Do you at least have your people looking for her?”
“The senator told Cozy about the operation. We’re moving the girls tonight.”
“That spineless bastard.” He struggled against the tape again. “We need to find her before she goes to the wrong cops or finds a news station for Christ’s sake.”
“Relax, she hasn’t shown her face yet. Believe me, I’d know.”
“Why does it seem like you’re enjoying my pain? How many times do I have to say it? Get me out of this fucking duck tape.” Ray shook violently, but failed to move the dense, metal chair.
“Not until I talk sense into you. You can’t kill her, Ray. She can’t even have a bruise.”
“I’ll find another one just as hot for the buyer. Jesus, they’re crawling all over the Quarter.”
“You aren’t thinking straight.”
“Fine.” He made a point to show that his breathing relaxed. “I’ll track her down tonight and deliver her to Apex. Just cut me loose, please.”
“And where do you plan on looking, Ray?” His partner waited. “Whether she goes back to Manchac or appears on Peyroux’s doorstep, we’ll reel her in at a later date. After that, we should probably cool it for a while.”
“Huh?”
“The gasket’s leaking. We need to stop and seal the leaks.”
“Are you that naïve to think we’re going to stop?”
“You’re not the one who makes the final decision.”
Ray’s eyes became soft. “We plow on. These parties, these girls, the money… We’re a good team with a network of powerful people that look out for us. Don’t freak out on me now.”
“True, but this is the closest an investigation has ever come. Even the Feds can’t get them to stop. A friggin’ car bomb can’t get him to stop.”
“The Feds are a means to an end. We operate under a huge umbrella. We’re fine. Cut me loose.”
Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel Page 21
