Blood Parish

by E. J. Findorff

  Izzy’s Charger pulled into an empty spot alongside one other high-end blue vehicle that Angel guessed to be an older model Lamborghini. “Whose cars are these?”

  “Paulette’s a collector. She likes to show them off to her politician friends. She gets ‘em laid like she’s Jeffrey Epstein.”

  Angel noticed the trees, awnings, and general overhead covering that would deny aerial surveillance. Two more guards, a man and a woman, met them at the back of the car.

  “The patronne is waiting,” a very familiar voice announced on approach.

  “Joe-Joe?” Angel blurted.

  “Surprise. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Joe-Joe watched as the two guards pulled her from the vehicle. “Hold up. I want to search her.”

  Joe-Joe slowly and thoroughly patted down Angel while Izzy observed. He then led her by her arm through the back entrance of a kitchen any chef would envy. The smell of cooking oil and spices infiltrated her lungs.

  A man dressed in a white coat was deep-frying beignets, paying them no mind. Swinging double doors opened to a prep station and continued to a formal dining room currently occupied by the last person Angel expected to see.

  Chapter 76

  Angel took in the entire cast of criminals at once. First, she saw her grandmother at the head of the table in pearls and a floral blouse. Maw maw Paulette looked to be in her element, upright and smug.

  Her mother Mable was seated near Paulette, wearing her trademark mom jeans and red blouse. There was no surprise on her salty face.

  At the table, but at a safe distance, was Trevor. He was obviously an observer to all this. Izzy found a chair next to Mable. In the middle were pastries, donuts, mimosa’s, and coffee. A giant gaudy crystal chandelier hung above.

  Angel said, “I see the gang’s all here. One final Scarface moment before my team storms the place?”

  “Someone cut off her cuffs,” Mable said.

  The patronne flicked her hand, and Joe-Joe used his knife to cut Angel free. “Thank you, Joe-Joe. That’ll be all.”

  “Yes, patronne.” Joe-Joe backed away with a sneer for the record books.

  Angel rubbed her wrists as Izzy took inventory of the eats. The taser she had used was still clipped to her belt. Trevor kept silent.

  Paulette swept her delicate hand across the spread. “Have a seat. Help yourself. I had chef set us up, figuring you’d be hungry.” She shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a pastry, but I did think you’d be here earlier than this.”

  Izzy took a mimosa. “We stopped at the mound. We had an illuminating talk.”

  “You lost your way out, Izzy,” Angel said.

  Angel’s mom stood. Mable moved behind maw maw Paulette, brushing away imaginary lint from the patronne’s shoulders. She gently fixed her mother’s thin gray hair.

  Paulette said, “I’ve been patient, Blondo. Seems my warning didn’t dissuade you, nor Izzy’s independent attempts.”

  “You had Joe-Joe kill Delilah,” Angel said.

  “No. Joe-Joe is what one might call a loose cannon. I’ll give the kid credit. Not a single shred of evidence left behind.” The patronne looked her age. “Now, we do things my way.”

  “Hold on, Mom,” Izzy interrupted. “Mable, you sure you want your daughter to see this?”

  “See what?” Maw maw Paulette inquired without worry.

  “See the title of patronne passed down.”

  Paulette lost her ease. “I’m doing what?”

  “She’s doing what?” Trevor repeated.

  “Did you know Lucy May is Trevor’s daughter?” Mable asked.

  Paulette’s face told everyone she had no clue. Izzy said, “That pregnancy pact we made? Lorna convinced us to do that because she was a month pregnant from Trevor and waited for our cycle to come back around. She fooled all of us.”

  “That’s why she had Lucy May early,” Mable added.

  Paulette’s anger returned. “Trevor – you and Lorna?”

  Trevor said nothing. How could he defend himself in a room that was about to turn on him? Mable’s grip tightened on her mom’s neck. “It’s time for you to retire, don’t you think? Go out while you can enjoy your final years.”

  “I’m doing no such thing, and these intimidation tactics won’t work. Mable, sit down!”

  Angel slowly stood, “Maw maw, I don’t think they’re asking. Remember what you told me. It’s happening.”

  “I won’t allow it.” She pressed a button on her watch.

  Mable said, “No one’s coming. We have the soldiers.”

  “All right. I think we all need to simmer down and discuss this,” Trevor held his hand up to his chest. “There’s no need for violence.”

  “Trevor’s right.” Paulette pressed harder on the watch. “Come on.”

  Mable slammed her mom’s hand down on the table, then used a knife to cut through the smartwatch band. She threw it across the room. “Step down, patronne. You have no choice.”

  “You will pay for this… all of you.”

  Trevor appeared outraged. “Mable, that is the patronne… there are rules that have been handed down for generations.”

  Angel saw her mom give a knowing nod to Izzy. The knife slid full across the patronne’s throat. It divided, releasing a small spray of blood across the cinnamon rolls, reaching a few of the other items as well.

  “No! Jesus, Mom, what did you do?” Angel cried.

  Trevor staggered back until he hit the wall. He genuflected as if believing he still had a place in Heaven.

  The patronne teetered a moment in her seat before falling forward on the table. Blood spread under her face.

  “Too bad Lorna wasn’t here to see that,” Mable said with a crazed grin. “Blondo, you had no idea how much we hated your maw maw. Maybe as much as you hate me right now.”

  “All our lives, we talked about this.” Izzy was wild-eyed. “We did it. We really did it.”

  “You killed Lorna, too.” Angel stared at her dead grandmother.

  Mable shook her head with a tsk. “Your Uncle Earl did that. Lorna knew what was happening. Why do you think she changed her will? She wanted you here.”

  “It scares me how normal you think this is.”

  Izzy took another mimosa that was unaffected by the blood. “That is why we will endure. The good of the family comes first.”

  Mable said, “Angel wants to believe people are good. It was always her weakness. Lucy May was a much better daughter to me.”

  “Ouch.” Izzy enjoyed a sip.

  Angel deflated. She needed time for a plan, instead of just letting things unfold. Mable opened a fresh container of cream cheese and carefully spread it on a bagel. She almost used her hip to bump the limp body off the chair. “So, you thought you could lure Izzy to your side by offering her Paulette’s crown?” Her eyes shot to Angel.

  “I was offering an out for everyone. A very legitimate plan.”

  “Wasn’t a bad plan, actually, Mable.” Izzy finished her mimosa.

  Angel tried another route. “I just came to get Mark. I could give a shit less who is the patronne.”

  “Your opinion is that he’s here… and alive.” Mable took a dainty bite.

  “And it’s your opinion you’re leaving this mansion,” Izzy added.

  “Good God, you two,” Trevor exclaimed. “I knew you were both ruthless, but to be this… this is crazy. The feds will come for her.”

  Mable glanced at Trevor. “Time to align yourself, Reverend. Who are you siding with? Lucy May won’t be patronne for years if she’s ever patronne at all. Consider it carefully.”

  Angel had witnessed a cold-blooded killer take the queendom. Was she naïve to believe it never happened this way in the past? Her mother and Aunt Izzy were merely carrying on the tradition of succession. This was the Blondeaux way, and she was in such a state of denial that she left Lemon Twig to avoid coming to terms with it.

  “Try the beignets while they’re warm.” Her mother pointed to one without bloo
d. “Perfection.”

  Angel glared at the hair of her lifeless grandmother. It could have easily be herself in that chair, whether it was today or fifty years from now if she had stayed with the family.

  “I have to admit, Blondo, you’re taking this rather well. Makes me curious.” Izzy said.

  Mable folded her arms. “Angel doesn’t realize she sabotaged herself.”

  “The hell you say.” Izzy mocked surprise.

  “I made sure she’d never betray the family from the day she was born. You knew it was a bad idea to trust Izzy, and yet you did.”

  “What do you mean – from the day I was born?”

  Izzy casually said, “That psychological bullshit doesn’t matter. Look at her. She still thinks she has cards to play.”

  That’s right. “You don’t care that a team of feds will come looking for me? To the fake Indian mound? That feds and reporters will infiltrate the town?”

  Her mother put her hand on her dead grandmother’s shoulder. “It’s your plan, dear. If the FBI does come down and find anything, that will only implicate Paulette, who has mysteriously fled. They may speculate you and her ran off together. They’ll take the boy’s bones to Quantico or wherever and spend months going over every inch while we remain untouchable.”

  Izzy added, “Sure, the national news will be around, questioning me and other folks, but we’ve been through that before. It’ll be the same old shit.”

  Angel said, “The feds are testing Bobby and Lucy May against the boys. They’ll know that you guys were pregnant before they died. How are you going to explain it?”

  “We were too scared to say anything. Sex in no way implicates us. You don’t think we’ve talked this through?”

  “You just going to murder me, too?”

  Mable cleared her throat, throwing her napkin on the table. “No. That’s not the plan.”

  “Why keep me alive?”

  “The clan needs a direct descendent. Lucy May’s child cannot be our only option, especially if it’s a boy. Lord knows Bobby isn’t going to procreate. Your womb is plan B.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Of course, I can’t force you to carry a baby to term…” Mable rounded the table to get intimately close. “…so, you’re going to give me a granddaughter, or you’re going to watch Mark die, and then you’ll die yourself. You might be defiant now, and that’s fine, but you will give me a granddaughter when faced with the torture and death of Mark.”

  Mable yelled for the guards. Two men shuffled in, blocking each entrance with automatic weapons.

  Izzy stood, grabbing one more pastry. “You should’ve sold me the house when you had the chance. You good here, Mable? I have to get back to my station. Let my deputies know the FBI will be coming to town.”

  “We’re good.” Mable’s lips curled up. “Send Joe-Joe back in here. That boy is finally going to get his wish.”

  Chapter 77

  I’ll see you soon.

  His words continued to echo in her head.

  Joe-Joe had roughly escorted Angel through the luxurious halls of the mansion while two hulking men followed. Some of the layout came back to her. It looked as if it were decorated in the 1950s or 60s and never updated. The color scheme was beautiful.

  They descended a wide set of stairs to a noticeably cooler basement. A floating, spacious cage of iron bars held the center of the room, reminding her of the prison. Those bars might’ve been from the prison for all she knew. Joe-Joe shoved her hard enough that she almost tripped. His hands performed another groping before pushing her into the large cell. She heard the squeal of hinges.

  “Where’s Mark?”

  “Not here.” He backed away, laughing.

  With her hands free, she explored the cubicle of iron bars. It was capped with a grate about four feet above her head. All four walls of the room was decorated with tapestries from different countries. The slate paving the floor reminded her of a medieval castle. It seemed cages were the Blondeaux’s preferred method of controlling people.

  I’ll see you soon. Joe-Joe had never uttered a phrase so evil. She trusted Donald and the team to come straight to the mansion when they find her missing. The bloodshed taking this property could be horrific.

  A noise caught her attention. In the dim lighting, she could make out a figure walking demurely toward her.

  “Lucy May,” Angel whispered, although she had no reason to keep her voice low. “You need to get me out of here.”

  “I can’t, Angel. I’m a prisoner, too.” Her cousin slowly leaned against her bars. “I’m pregnant. Aunt Mable wants to keep me here until the birth.”

  “Can you get the keys from Joe-Joe?”

  “I might have a better chance than you think.” Lucy May bowed her head. “It’s his baby.”

  “Bobby told me.”

  “There’s something wrong with me. I know that. Half the time, I love him because he doesn’t love me. Half the time, I hate him because he loves you.”

  “He’s not about love. Love isn’t about possessing, it’s about letting go. He killed my friend Delilah. He’s not a good guy, Lucy May.”

  “How many Blondeauxs are?” She touched her stomach. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I also know that Trevor is your real father.”

  Lucy May rested against the bars. “Our lives are so fucked-up.”

  “I have to get out of here. Where’s Trevor?”

  “Your mom told him to dispose of maw maw’s body.”

  “He’s going to cremate her. At Wilkens?”

  “Yeah.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Now that Mable is in power, what’s going to happen to us?”

  “They’ll probably expect you to toe the line. Support what they’re doing. Don’t show them any sympathy toward me. You’re not going to change their mind by lobbying for me.”

  “I know.”

  “Is Mark Senn is here?”

  “Honestly, Angel. He’s not here.”

  “You, I believe. That’s not good at all.”

  “Izzy thinks it’s a ruse you’re playing.”

  Angel considered it. “Joe-Joe has him. I just don’t know where.”

  A booming voice she didn’t recognize came from the staircase. “Lucy May! You’re wanted by the patronne.”

  Lucy May squeezed Angel’s hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

  The phrase held so much more hope when she said it.

  Chapter 78

  Izzy’s cell rang, vibrated, and chimed this morning after one of the biggest nights in Blondeaux history. A patronne had been replaced, and Mable’s FBI offspring was neutralized. The mystery of the missing baseball players might finally be exposed, at no expense to the family. If anything, it would only solidify the Blondeaux legend.

  The phone buzzed again.

  “What is it, Allen?” Izzy yawned over the phone.

  “We have a few feds out here at the mound. A SWAT team, too.”

  “We expected that. Be cordial. Tell them I’m on my way.” Izzy punched the accelerator.

  Not even the FBI nosing around the Trap could bring her down. The bitch was dead. Mable was the new patronne, and things were going to change. First and foremost, the Blondeaux women would be allowed to marry outside of their chromosomes, and whichever gender they chose.

  The second thing was to shut down Lucy May and Trevor. One was too weak, and the other wasn’t a Blondeaux. Those two conspirators had enough dirt on the clan to cause real damage. Lucy May had gotten close to Angel, too. Mable needed to right the ship and fast.

  In no time, Izzy tooled down the dirt road toward the three black FBI vehicles and a moving van. A group of men was gathered in tactical gear, checking their equipment. The morning sun had risen just enough where headlights weren’t needed anymore. Two people were on top of the mound of dewy grass with something that looked like a giant lawnmower.

  She made the suit wait outside her car while she pretended to fiddle with her cell. After a moment, she pu
t it away and eased from the squad.

  “Sheriff Blondeaux?” The fatherly man asked. He was dressed in slacks, no-nonsense black shoes, and a light blue button-down. A jacket hung from his forearm.

  “Yes, sir.” Izzy held out her hand.

  “I’m ASAC Donald Lester. Call me Don. I was Agent Blondeaux’s case handler before her suspension. That’s Agent Gail Ruby up on the mound with the sonar operator.”

  “How’s her suspension going?” Izzy asked.

  “We’re fighting it. Building a good defense. I was very surprised when she called to tell about this.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “If we actually find something here, that could go a long way in leniency.” They looked toward the incline of the mound. “The sonar is mapping the quadrants now. Where is Agent Blondeaux?”

  “Not sure. We parted ways last night right where we’re standing. I went home for some sleep but didn’t get much. She was supposed to call me when you got here.”

  He appeared worried. “We tried the house she inherited, but no one is there.”

  “You went inside?”

  “We did. Her cell and truck aren’t there. No GPS to track.”

  “She hasn’t stopped running around since she got here. I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

  “It’s not like her to just fall off the map.” He pointed. “This isn’t a real mound. Did you know that?”

  “Angel told me.”

  “We spoke to an LSU archeologist and geologist that coincidently excavates mounds near the university. They’re going to come with some grad students to lead the dig with our forensics specialists. We couldn’t find any documentation that your family tried to pass this off as a federal landmark. It appears to just be hearsay, like a local legend, so I won’t pretend to have jurisdiction. I understand this is your crime scene, but I hope you don’t mind my initiative.”