by Erin Wade
“And honestly,” Penny jumped in, “They screwed up the San Antonio scene so badly I can’t say for sure if it’s our basher or not. The MO is awfully close but the prints on the window screen definitely are not Latour’s.”
“This case is beginning to give me nightmares,” Chris said. “We know Lonnie and Albert didn’t commit the murders. They were with those two women all night.
“We do have blood and semen from Latour and bloody clothes also covered with his fluids and the victims’ blood. I say he is our killer. I don’t know what to say about the SA murders. Maybe a copycat.”
“I’d feel good about sticking a needle in Latour,” Penny said.
Beau’s phone rang and he listened closely to the person on the other end. “Thanks, we needed that.”
“That was my partner. He’s interrogated Lonnie and Albert. Both have admitted that Latour promised them money and time with his daughter and son in exchange for their alibis.”
“Geeze, what an ass,” Barbie mumbled. “Trading his kid’s bodies for favors. Even if he is innocent, I’d still like to see the sorry S.O.B. get the needle.”
“This strengthens our case,” Java noted. “He has no alibi and was so desperate to get one he was bartering his kids. The clothes we confiscated at his home are definitely his. All the clothes we dug up in the back yard belong to Latour and are covered with his semen and blood from previous victims. There’s no doubt in my mind Budro Latour is The Basher.”
“What about our bodiless ladies?” Java asked. “Is Jody Schooley showing your surveillance guys anything?”
“Nothing yet,” Beau frowned. “He has an office on St Peters but doesn’t stay there much. He seems to troll the streets. He met with a real-estate lady last week but other than that, he hangs out in your place or Rochelle’s. Takes and makes a lot of short phone calls. We’re having trouble identifying his girls.
“You know he took over Pender’s girls,” Beau informed them. “They’ve been slowly disappearing ever since. He says he sent them back home. I know he dropped the underaged ones off at Covenant Place.”
“That’s strange behavior for a pimp,” Java noted.
“I thought so too.” Beau agreed. “I know he’s up to something. I can feel it in my bones.”
“He knows we have a strict policy against prostitutes in Java’s Place,” Java said. “We have no private rooms or strippers. Rochelle’s has both. If he’s running prostitutes it’d have to be Rochelle’s place.”
“I don’t know,” Beau shrugged, “Since the sweeping raids last year by the NOLA Office of Alcohol & Tobacco Control most of the clubs now have cameras in their private rooms. Strippers can entertain private customers any way they wish except having intercourse with them.”
“Like that slows down sex trafficking,” Kat groused. “Walk down the street, on any night, Beau. Scantily clad women are standing in the doorways of clubs and dingy bars hawking their wares.”
“A&TC doesn’t have the funding to arrest the hooker who is on her own,” Beau noted. “They go after the pimps running multiple women—some against their will. Pimps feed on stupid young girls who run away from home and think they can make a living in Orleans. Once a pimp gets his hooks into a girl, she doesn’t stand a chance. It’s the pimps like Pender we don’t want in Orleans.”
“Apparently someone else didn’t want Pender in Orleans either,” Java pointed out. “I know that Lindy’s security system was on the blink, but I don’t see how someone could walk into Rochelle’s, stab the guy and steal his cellphone without anyone seeing it. You know all his women and clients were on that phone.”
“Yeah, I’m certain they instantly downloaded the info then destroyed the sims card.” Beau noted.
“Maybe we should pull Jody in for questioning?” Chris said. “He was the last one to speak with Pender before he was murdered.”
“I have a better idea,” Java said. “Barbie, why don’t you see if he’ll hire you. We’ll have a big fight in front of him and I’ll fire you. Then later you can ask him if he has a job you can do.”
“I don’t know Java,” Barbie replied. “Everyone knows he has the hots for Kat.”
Java’s back stiffened as she considered sending Kat into Jody Schooley’s operation. “I don’t know—”
“Barbie’s right,” Kat said. “But you don’t have to fire me. I’ll just tell Jody I need to make some extra money. He’ll jump at the chance.”
“I’m sure he will,” Java mumbled. “He’ll probably pay you himself. I don’t like it. Let’s continue the surveillance and put this idea on hold for right now. Beau, do you know the name of the real-estate agent he was talking to?”
“I can find out,” Beau dialed a number and spoke with someone in his office. “Thanks, I appreciate the info.” He hung up and wrote the number on a napkin. “Sandy Cray, here’s her number.”
CHAPTER 25
The next morning Java visited Sandy Cray right after her agency opened.
“I’m Java Jarvis,” she introduced herself.
“I know who you are,” Sandy smiled. “You own Java’s Place. Nice supper club.”
“Thank you,” Java faked a blush. “I’m thinking about expanding and wondered what’s on the market.”
Sandy’s long nails clicked against her keyboard as she scrolled through her listings. “Are you going to sell your location on Bourbon Street?” She asked.
“No, I’ll probably lease it to some other club owner,” Java answered. “It’s been in my family for over sixty years.”
“You looking to expand your services?” Sandy asked.
“Possibly,” Java nodded. “I need something in the ten to twelve thousand square feet range. Several bedrooms with baths.
“We just sold a property like that,” Sandy bragged. “You know that two-story mansion on Esplanade Ave. Eleven bedrooms, Twelve baths and thirteen-thousand square feet.”
“Is it under contract or has the deal been closed?” Java asked.
“Oh yes, the buyer paid cash, closed last week.” Sandy informed her.
“I guess I’ll have even more competition,” Java feigned concern.
“Just between you and me, Java I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Sandy patted her hand. “I don’t think it’s going to be a restaurant/club like your place. I think it’s going to be a gentleman’s club.”
“Seriously,” Java exclaimed. “Are they calling it a gentleman’s club?”
“They filed for a license for a private club.” Sandy added. “So, I think they can call it anything they want.”
“That place didn’t go cheap,” Java noted. “It’s one of the nicest places in Orleans. Must be a group of investors.”
“Could be,” Sandy agreed. “Jody Schooley is the front man on it.”
“Schooley?” Java gasped. “How’d Schooley pull together that much money?
“You’d have to ask him,” Sandy shrugged suddenly aware that she had given out more information than she should about another client.
“If anything happens and it comes back on the market please let me know,” Java slid her business card to Sandy. “And next time you dine at Java’s Place ask for me, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“I may just do that,” Sandy winked.
##
The DA’s office threw the book at Budro Latour although they couldn’t explain the San Antonio massacre. The San Antonio authorities declared the slaughter the work of a copycat killer. The case was dragging its way through the criminal process. It was almost November and there hadn’t been a massacre since the San Antonio slaughter. Everyone was breathing easier and thankful the senseless killings had stopped.
Java kept a close watch on the progress of the remodeling going on at the Esplanade Avenue mansion. She kept a closer watch on Lindy Rochelle who was now a regular at Kat’s performances. The woman was obviously enamored of the brunette singer.
“Your girlfriend is here,” Java nudged Kat as Lindy entered Java�
��s Place.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Kat hissed. “She’s always sweet and respectful. Unlike some women I know.”
“I’m always respectful,” Java defended. “I just have a hard time hiding my feelings for you.”
“And an even harder time keeping your hands off me,” Kat pointed out.
“You know you love it,” Java made a salacious face.
Kat laughed out loud. “You really are incorrigible.”
“Hopeless,” Java grinned. “Heads up. Girlfriend headed your way.”
“Lindy,” Java greeted her competitor, “How’s business?”
“Good,” Lindy shrugged. “I’m sure it would be better if I could find a singer like Kat for my showroom.”
“Um, I’m not sure a woman with Kat’s talent would want to share a stage with strippers,” Java pointed out.
“Oh, I’d get rid of the strippers for Kat,” Lindy blurted. “Err. . . um, for someone of Kat’s caliber.”
“You’re in for a treat tonight,” Java grinned. “Kat is introducing her new routine.”
“Perhaps we could celebrate afterwards,” Lindy turned to Kat, “I could take you to dinner.”
Java caught Kat’s hand and held up her wedding ring. “Married lady here, Lindy. You do know that, right?”
“Of course,” Lindy mumbled. “I have respected that in every way. Kat if you think I’ve stepped out of line . . .”
“Ignore her, Lindy,” Kat giggled. “She’s just giving you a hard time.”
“I’d like to give you a—”
“Stop it, Java,” Kat stomped her foot. “You’re being childish.”
Java rolled her eyes and walked into her office slamming the door behind her. She pulled out her file on the bodiless prostitutes. In their usual compassionate way, the news media had dubbed the killings the Decap Murders. Beau had hauled in Jody Schooley and questioned him about the death of the bleached blonde.
Jody swore he knew nothing about her death. He gave Beau the number of the man who had requested Lilly, but it was a burner phone. The Decap Murders had also ceased. Java wanted to tie the Decap Murders to The Basher but could find no connection. She closed the files when someone knocked on her door. “Come in.”
“Java,” Chris entered, “Déjà vu is on the phone. She is insisting that she has reservations for Thanksgiving, but she doesn’t. She does this every year. She waits until the day before and—”
“I know,” Java chuckled. “Give her the table next to Jody Schooley. That should be a hoot.”
“Seriously?” Chris smirked. “You know how Jody is around big boobs.”
“Yeah, I figure Déjà will break his arms.” Java laughed.
“Kat’s right,” Chris giggled, “you really are evil.”
“We’re maxed out,” Chris examined her seating chart. “I couldn’t squeeze in a two-year old tomorrow, but I’ll find Deja a table somewhere.”
CHAPTER 26
“Boss,” Barbie charged into Java’s office. “Penny’s on the phone—”
“I can’t do it,” Chris interrupted. “I can’t seat another single soul—”
“Chris, she doesn’t want a seat,” Barbie frowned. “There’s been another massacre in Lafayette.”
“Damn,” Java cursed.
“Penny wants all of us there,” Barbie continued. “Lafayette learned from the fiasco they caused last time. They’ve roped everything off and have officers stationed all around the house until we get there to secure the scene.”
“Let’s move it,” Java put her files into her lap drawer and pulled on her jacket. “My car’s out back.”
“What about Kat?” Barbie asked. “She’s running through her Thanksgiving show for the first time tonight.”
“Yeah,” Java hesitated. “Barbie get her. I don’t want to leave her alone.”
##
“What’s so important you have to drag me away—”
The look on Java’s face told Kat something was terribly wrong.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me he’s back.”
“Someone is back,” Java hissed. “At least this time we’ve got a clean crime scene. We’ll be the first to go over it.”
“How many?” Kat asked.
“We don’t know,” Barbie replied. “No one went inside the house. They just roped it off until we arrive. Penny is on her way too.”
“It’s a two-hour drive,” Java accelerated. “Hold on we’re going to break some records getting there.”
##
Penny and her team were unloading their forensic paraphernalia when Java parked in front of the house.
“From the looks of all the blood,” Penny said, “this is going to be one gory crime scene. Look at that sidewalk.”
The sidewalk looked as if someone had hosed it down with blood. Every inch of it was covered in the coagulated sticky stuff. Java pulled on her gloves and picked up a five-gallon plastic bucket that had been used to douse the sidewalk with the sanguine fluid. She held it up for the videographer to film. “It has Tractor Supply Company written on the side,” Java turned the bucket so he could film it. She wondered if the killer had brought his own bucket or had found it on the premises.
“Bag that,” Penny ordered as one of her people held out a large clear bag for Java to put the bucket into.
“Just look at the footprints,” Penny crowed. “They’re everywhere but they’re only from one person. Measure and video every inch of this. Then take stills of the footprints.”
Java couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pattern of the footprints in the blood. “Kat you’re the musician,” she said. “but this pattern looks as if—”
“The killer danced in the blood,” Kat mumbled.
“Yeah, a waltz,” Java pointed out the steps.
“Sick bastard,” Penny growled. “Poured his victims’ blood all over the sidewalk then danced in it.”
“Java have your agents pair with mine,” Penny instructed. “Two sets of eyes are better than one. My people will collect the evidence, bag and tag it. Your people need to keep their eyes open for anything my people might overlook. Let’s go in through the carport. There’s no blood trail there. Everyone have on their booties and scrub caps?”
The stench and sight in the house made even the most seasoned investigator gag. Java was pleased that her teammates weren’t with those who bolted and ran outside to throw up in a plastic bag to keep from contaminating the crime scene.
Unlike the other crime scenes, the black man and white woman had been shot in the head. The woman’s skull was also cracked open while the man’s head was intact. Four children under the age of nine were bludgeoned to death.
The signature voodoo doll was placed on each victim. For the first time each doll had a pin through its head. The mattress on the bed was soaked with blood from the six victims stacked on it.
Penny’s team carefully spread out clear sheets of plastic and began the arduous job of separating the bodies.
Each body was carefully wrapped in clear plastic, loaded onto the gurney and wheeled to the waiting coroner’s box truck. Penny had learned a single coroner’s van wouldn’t hold the depravity from The Basher’s kills.
The teams worked until the last ray of sunlight disappeared from the sky then flooded the inside of the house with halogen flood lights. Sometime around midnight Penny declared the scene cleared for release.
“Java, we’ve got to find something in all this carnage.” Penny’s tired face showed the ravages of the horrible scene she had torn apart piece by piece.
“Get some sleep tonight Penny,” Java put her arm around her friend’s shoulder and walked her to her truck. “Join us for Thanksgiving tomorrow then you can tackle this puzzle with a fresh eye Friday.”
“I think you’re right, Java,” Penny agreed.
##
It was after two in the morning Thanksgiving Day when Java dropped Barbie and Chris off at their cars. “I’ll drive you home,” she told
Kat who nodded numbly.
As they pulled from the parking lot Kat caught Java’s hand and pulled it into her stomach. “I don’t want to be alone, Java.”
“I know, honey.” Java murmured. “Neither do I.”
CHAPTER 27
Thanksgiving Day arrived enveloped in clouds and drizzling rain. A typical rainy November day in Orleans, Java thought as she lay on her back gazing at the sky through her window. The warm woman beside her drew her attention to more pleasant thoughts.
“Thank you,” Kat whispered sliding her arm across Java’s torso. “I just couldn’t sleep alone last night. The thought of someone creating all that carnage and then gleefully dancing in it was more than I could comprehend.”
“I felt the same way,” Java murmured. “Holding you drove the vile images from my mind.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to run through your new routine yesterday,” Java turned on her side to face Kat. “I know how you hate to do a show cold turkey.”
“It’ll be fine,” Kat cooed. “We’re professionals, the band will cover for me if I mess up.”
“I don’t recall you ever missing a note,” Java chuckled.
“See how good they cover for me,” Kat giggled.
“Umm, Kat I—”
Kat’s soft fingertips on her lips stopped Java’s sentence. “We must shower and get to the club. It’s already late afternoon.”
##
The smell of cornbread dressing and turkey that greeted Java when she ushered Kat through the back door of the supper club made her mouth water. The fragrance that floated from the brunette’s hair teased all her senses.
“About time you two got here,” Barbie barked. “Two waitresses have reported out ill and one of the ovens is on the blink.”
“No rest for the wicked,” Java laughed. “Chris is there anyone we can call in to waitress?”
“Already on their way, boss,” Chris grinned. “Barbie just panicked.”
“You’re darn right I panicked,” Barbie scowled, “I still have mental scars from Valentine’s Day and I think tonight’s crowd is going to be worse.”
“Has there been anything on the news about yesterday?” Java asked.
