by Erin Wade
“I’ve narrowed it down to a hundred possibilities,” Java explained as she handed each woman a stack of receipts. “Look through your stack and start with the ones you deem the most suspicious.”
“Kat and I are going to visit Reverend Driscol Ames today and give him a personal invitation to have Christmas Eve dinner here as our guest. That’ll give us an excuse for being in his church.
“I gave Déjà a pretty good once over last night--.”
“I bet you did,” Kat interrupted.
“I don’t suspect her,” Java continued.
“We visited with the Roach brothers,” Chris added. “They’re up to something, but it’s not slaughtering entire families.”
“They’re almost too stupid to exist,” Barbie said. “They act like old-time mobsters speaking Pidgin. But I think that is an act. They only lapse into Pidgin when they don’t want to answer questions.”
“Lindy said they tried to sell her protection,” Kat chuckled. “She kicked them out.”
“Jody Schooley has reservations for two around one today,” Chris informed Java. “You might want to talk to him then.”
“I wonder what big-breasted woman he’ll bring with him today,” Barbie chimed in.
“He’s certainly been showing off his girls around Bourbon Street,” Chris agreed.
“Are you getting any chatter about his place?” Kat asked. “I’ve heard nothing.”
“Not a peep,” Chris answered. “It’s strange. We usually hear all the sordid jokes and uncouth comments imaginable when a new whore house opens.”
“I know he received his license to operate,” Barbie informed them. “And there’s been no complaints from his girls. I haven’t heard a word about them being disenchanted or wanting out of their job.”
“Beau’s already contacted the San Antonio Sheriff’s department to set up around the clock surveillance on the train station,” Java shared her information. “He called this morning. Everyone should be in place in a couple of days. We’ve got to catch The Basher.”
“Kat and I are off to visit with Driscol Ames,” Java stood. “Chris you get addresses on your receipts and I’ll finish getting information on the ones I have tonight.”
##
Kat scanned through the photos of the last crime scene as they drove to the Sanctity Church. They were disappointed to find Reverend Ames was out of town but delighted to find out the ladies’ club was hard at work constructing voodoo dolls.
The church secretary fawned over Kat. “I’ve heard you sing,” she gushed. “My husband took me to Java’s Place for our anniversary and you sang our request.”
“Yes, I remember you,” Kat lied. “The two of you danced as I sang your song.”
“Yes,” the woman beamed. Delighted that Kat remembered her.
“I’m thinking about getting my family authentic voodoo dolls for their birthdays this year,” Kat said. “I heard your ladies’ club makes them. Is there any chance I might see them in action?”
“Oh, yes,” the secretary agreed pointing to a closed door. “Just go down that hallway and take the third door on the left. The ladies are in there now working on the dolls.”
Java followed Kat to the production room and was pleased to see half-a-dozen women busily stitching and gluing voodoo dolls together. There was a huge bowl of buttons in the center of the worktable.
The women were happy to show the two beautiful visitors how a voodoo doll was constructed.
“How much do you sell the dolls for?” Kat asked.
“Twenty-Five dollars each,” the president of the club answered. “We meet once a month and make the dolls.”
“That’s very reasonable,” Kat smiled. “How many do you make a month?”
“Fifty,” the woman answered. “Our goal is to sell enough dolls every month to cover the salary of the daycare worker.”
“And do you?” Kat picked up one of the dolls and began inspecting it.
“Oh yes. We make just enough to pay the worker,” the president said. “Rev. Ames wants us to meet twice a month and make a hundred dolls so the church can hire a second day-care worker. Our kindergarten program is booming.”
“Does any one person purchase a large number of the dolls,” Java asked. “Say, five or six at a time.”
“Miss Déjà vu LaBlanc has a standing order for twenty-five dolls,” the woman beamed. “Six months ago, she placed a special order for one hundred dolls.”
Kat smirked at Java then thanked the ladies for their information as they left.
“So, your high priestess is buying voodoo dolls in bulk,” Kat chided. “She probably has one with your name on it.”
“More likely it’s your name,” Java stated the obvious.
“Yes, she’d like to get me out of the way,” Kat agreed. “I think we should make Miss LeBlanc’s day and pay her a visit.”
“Are you going to play nice with her?” Java asked.
“I’m not going to play with her at all,” Kat smirked. “That’s your bailiwick.”
“Kat, I’ve never—”
“I know,” Kat interrupted. “I just like to watch the look on your face when I tease you about her. Honestly, if I weren’t around wouldn’t you court Déjà vu? She is very beautiful.”
“No,” Java shook her head. “If you weren’t around, I’d be too miserable to function with others. I’d become a recluse coming out only when Karen gave me a case with a license to kill.”
“Oh my,” Kat feigned shock. “I suppose I’d better stay around just to keep you happy.”
“You do make me happy,” Java smiled.
CHAPTER 41
Déjà was with a customer in her private office when they arrived at her shop. Kally greeted them coolly and Java wondered why the girl was so subdued then she remembered that she’d just killed her brother.
“Kally,” Java touched her arm, “I wanted to personally tell you how sorry I am about Raymond. I had to defend myself.”
“I know, Miss Java,” Kally sulked.
“Is there anything I can do to help you and your mother?”
“No, Mother moved on,” Kally shrugged. “She’s already living with another man.”
“Where are you living?” Java asked.
“Same place. Mother’s new beau owns his own home, so she let me have ours. It’s in my father’s name so I guess I can stay there as long as he’s in prison. There’s no chance of him getting out, is there?”
“No chance at all,” Java reassured her.
“Kally,” Kat smiled at the girl, “can you think of anyone who would be involved in these horrible crimes with your father and brother?”
Kally cocked her head to one side and limped across the room to join them. “I was shocked that my brother was involved,” she whispered. “Are you certain he committed any of the murders?”
“We’re certain,” Kat scowled. “I’m sorry.”
“But another family was killed after you shot Raymond,” Kally sobbed.
“Do you know where Déjà was when the last murder occurred?” Kat asked.
“Kat,” Java blurted.
“No, it’s okay, Miss Java,” Kally half smiled. “She was here. We did inventory that night. There’s no way Miss Déjà vu would commit those crimes.”
Beads rattling behind her made Kat jump. She turned to find herself face-to-face with the high priestess decked out in all her voodoo regalia.
“Now you’re accusing me,” Déjà snarled at Kat. “I must be making you nervous?”
“Déjà, Kat didn’t mean anything by her question,” Java assured the ebony beauty. “We’re just going over everything. We’re at our wits end.”
“I understand,” Déjà shrugged. “Everyone is on pins and needles.” She laughed as she picked up a voodoo doll that looked very much like Kat and stabbed a long pin into its stomach.
Kat gasped, clutched her stomach and doubled over. An eerie silence fell on the room as the other three gaped at Kat.
&n
bsp; Kat’s laughter filled the room. “I wish you could see the expression on your faces.” She straightened. “That was just too good to pass up.”
The look of hatred on Déjà vu’s face told Java that her lover had gone too far. The priestess was furious.
“You dare to mock me,” Déjà, railed. “Leave my establishment right now.”
“Déjà she didn’t mean anything by that,” Java tried to smooth things over. “She was just having a bit of fun.”
“At my expense,” Déjà roared. “You’re always welcome here, Java. But you,” she pointed her finger at Kat, “never darken my doorway again.”
Java caught Kat’s elbow and pushed her toward the door. “I’ll call you later,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left Déjà.
Java kept a firm grip on Kat’s arm until they reached the car. “What was that all about?” She demanded.
“That was for her intentionally keeping you out late last night,” Kat smirked.
“Kat you can’t go around alienating people just because—”
Kat caught Java’s face between her hands and kissed her soundly. “She’s in love with you,” Kat said as she pulled her lips from Java’s. “And she’s behind these murders. I don’t know how or why, but I know she is.”
CHAPTER 42
Friday wasn’t a happy meeting for Java. Her team knew no more than it had the previous Friday. All their suspects had iron-clad alibis except for Driscoll Ames, and he was still out of town so neither she nor Kat had been able to talk with him.
The best thing Java had to report was that no murders had occurred in the past week. She was beginning to be thankful for the tiniest blessings and considered a week without The Basher claiming more victims a win.
The Gonzales Police Chief had tried to lodge a formal complaint against the FBI’s, “blonde bitch of an agent.” But after Karen finished rattling off the charges she would file on him for the desecration of the crime scene, he quietly went away.
San Antonio had their officers in place waiting for The Basher to show his face.
“Now we are playing a waiting game,” Java concluded her pathetic report.
Director Karen Pierce took Java’s place in front of the white board. She had been watching her team that was made up of the FBI’s finest agents. To say their morale was low was the understatement of the year. She knew they had left no stone unturned and had come up empty handed while The Basher or bashers continued their bloody rampage. She too counted each week without a massacre a win.
“I know all of you have been pounding the pavement and looking into every nook and cranny for a lead,” Karen began. “This is the most frustrating case of my career and I know you feel the same. Be constantly vigilant and take in the most minute details. We’re grasping at straws, but maybe one of those straws will pull up a lead.”
“We’ll visit Ames as soon as he’s back in town,” Java added.
“I’ve never worked so many crime scenes with so little results,” Penny noted. “It’s as if a ghost committed those crimes.”
“Oh, Lord,” Karen chortled, “Don’t give the press any ideas. God only knows what they’d make of that statement.”
“Penny’s right,” Beau jumped in. “I can’t believe there is such carnage and so little evidence of the perpetrator. Whoever he is, he’s brilliant.”
“Is your undercover still intact?” Karen asked Java.
“Obviously Déjà vu and Kally know I’m FBI,” Java admitted, “but I don’t think anyone else knows. And I’m certain they have no idea Kat, is an agent.”
“I want to go on the record as saying, I believe Déjà is a prime suspect,” Kat said.
Java glared at her lover but didn’t respond. She had gone through Déjà’s receipts searching for sales to account for the hundred dolls the priestess had purchased from the church. They were unaccounted for. She wanted to check Déjà’s inventory before she shared her discovery.
CHAPTER 43
A good night’s sleep with Kat beside her started Java’s day off on the best note possible. She sat at her desk and scrutinized her list of suspects one more time. What am I missing? she thought. Or more appropriately, who am I missing?
She turned on her TV and watched the morning news as she sipped her third cup of coffee. She was shocked to see the San Antonio Police Chief holding a press conference.
“Why haven’t you notified citizens about your suspicions?” A reporter screamed from the crowd.
“We feared public reaction would result in unnecessary deaths,” the chief responded. “You know how the public can panic over cases like this.”
The station cut from the press conference to a single anchorwoman facing the camera. “I broke this story late last night,” the woman reported. “I discovered a strong police presence at the San Antonio railway station.
“Authorities believe The Basher will strike in San Antonio next.”
“Dammit,” Java cursed. “Obviously not now, you stupid cow. Now that you’ve informed the world.”
She fought the urge to throw her paperweight at the TV screen. How could the news media be so obtuse? They had just destroyed the only opportunity law enforcement had of catching The Basher wasting thousands of dollars and man hours devoted to stopping the insane murderer.
The TV coverage shifted back to the press conference. “Obviously, you have destroyed all hope of our plan working,” the chief kept his voice even. “You’ve informed The Basher of our plan to capture him.”
“But chief—”
“This press conference is over,” the chief switched off the microphone and walked away from the podium.
Java was in the middle of a mumbled rant when Kat entered her office. “My, what happened to the happy woman I woke up with this morning?”
“Have you seen the news?” Java blurted.
Kat shook her head no and turned to watch the anchor woman. Her mouth dropped open as she realized what a fool the news reporter was.
“Java,” Kat gasped, “she’s just negated the only chance we had of capturing The Basher.”
“I know,” Java huffed.
“Beau’s on his way here,” Kat informed her. “I wondered what he was so excited about. I guess this is it.”
The elevator dinged announcing the arrival of a guest to Java’s floor. “That’s probably him, now,” Kat surmised.
Beau strolled into Java’s office and headed for the coffee bar. “Help yourself,” Java encouraged.
“Have you seen the news?” Beau frowned as he stirred cream into his coffee.
“Yeah,” Java shrugged. “I figured that’s what you were here about.”
“No, thinking about that will only give me indigestion,” Beau settled into the chair across from Java. “There’s something hinky going on at Jody Schooley’s house of ill repute.”
“Why do you say that?” Java scowled ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.
“All the ladies that used to work for him have disappeared and no one knows where they’ve gone,” Beau replied. “They’ve just vanished.”
“And you want—"
“Kat to go undercover at his place.” Beau finished Java’s sentence.
“Not no, but hell no!” Java growled. “You know he has the hots for Kat and there’s no way she’s going to work in a whore house.”
As soon as the words left her mouth Java regretted them. The worst thing one could do was tell Kat there was no way she could do something.
“Maybe he needs a receptionist,” Kat smirked. “I’m quite capable of answering the telephone.”
Java bit her tongue. She wasn’t having a conversation in front of everyone, but she also wasn’t about to sign off on Kat working in Jody’s cat house.
“Folks,” Java said calmly, “I believe all of us need to be concentrating on The Basher. Jody’s bordello isn’t going anywhere. We can deal with him when we catch the person or persons slaughtering their way across the state.”
Kat nod
ded in agreement. Thank God reason always works with Kat, Java thought.
“Am I the only one starving?” Java grinned rising from her desk. “Everyone, lunch on the house.”
They moved to their regular round table overlooking the main floor of the restaurant. To Java’s surprise, Jody Schooley and one of his bimbos were already seated below.
“He’s here with one of his girls now,” Beau whispered. “She must be new. I haven’t seen her around.”
“Pretty,” Barbie commented.
“They all are,” Beau replied. “Look at the size of those hooters.”
“Uh, Beau, ladies present,” Java’s sweeping gesture included all the members of her team.
“I’m sorry,” Beau blushed. “I didn’t mean to be lewd. I’m just amazed that she can sit up without help. Seriously, look at her Java.”
Java studied the woman for several minutes. “She is well endowed,” she muttered.
“They all are,” Beau noted. “It’s like Schooley’s replaced all the skanks he had with every man’s wet dream.”
“Why don’t you have Alcohol & Tobacco Control make an unannounced visit to his place? You know, to make certain nothing illegal is going on.”
“They are allowed by law to do that,” Beau agreed. “I’ll go that route first, but if they turn up empty handed, I need Kat to help me. Something’s not right with Jody Schooley.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Java promised.
##
As the dinner crowd filled the restaurant, Java moved among her customers thanking them for dining at Java’s Place and introducing herself to the new faces she saw.
“When does your blues singer come on?” A dark man with sunken black eyes asked. “I came just to see her.”
“Soon,” Java answered trying to overcome her instant aversion to the man. “Are you from around here?”
“No, on vacation,” the man chirped.
“Alone?” Java surveyed the empty booth the man was occupying.
“I’m meeting a date.” Thin lips tightened across crooked teeth as the man smiled.
