Thor glanced at the crypt and then back to Jeanne. “They probably know each other.”
Pablo and Nelson walked up to join them, each carrying two crowbars. Pablo gave one to Jeanne and Nelson gave one to Thor.
Nelson looked around, shining his flashlight creating moving shadows all around them. “Where the hell do we start?”
Jeanne starting walking straight to the back of the cemetery. “If you were going to hide a body, wouldn’t you pick a spot as far from the street as you could?”
Pablo flanked out to the right, “Look for crowbar marks on the doors.” It wasn’t long before even the movement of their flashlights disappeared. The cemetery had no lights and was poorly maintained. What should have been clear rows between crypts were overgrown with tall grass and low shrub trees.
The cemetery, St. Louis Cemetery #1, had city streets on three sides. On the north street, Mason Dooley waited in his patrol car for Claude and Earl to arrive. Mason would guard the corner keeping people out of that part of the cemetery. Mason could not see the street where Thor had parked.
In a cab two blocks away were Spicey, Sasha, Dakin and us. Spicey was trying to convince the cab driver to just wait an hour or so and come back. The cabby insisted she wasn’t going to find a ride back at that hour in this neighborhood. “This here is probably the last ride this side of town. You stayin’ or I be takin’ you somewhere else? Ain’t got all night.” He kept looking at Dakin.
Spicey opened the door of the cab and we all got out.
Sasha shook her fist and yelled after him, “Our deaths will be on your hands tomorrow.”
Spicey elbowed her, “Ain’t nobody dyin’ tonight.”
Claude and Earl had arrived at the cemetery a little early. They just wanted to get rid of the judge’s body and go home. Mason wasn’t on the corner yet, so they drove into the cemetery from the opposite side where it was darker and lifted the judge from the back of the truck.
“He be getting’ heavier every time we move him.” Claude had to do the majority of the lifting since Earl was a smoker and downright fat.
Earl grabbed the crowbar from the back of the truck. “Let’s just drag his ass over to a dark spot and lean him ‘gainst somethin’ ‘til we get a crypt open.”
“Brilliant idea. That’s what we do every time, shithead.” Claude hated the way Earl always stated the obvious.
Earl stopped and whipped his head around. “You hear that? There’s people talkin’ over yonder!”
Claude listened. He heard something, too. Claude hissed, “Set this dude against this here stone and we’ll check it out. Maybe that witchy lady come back here.”
They pulled the judge to rest against a crypt and took turns moving closer to the voices while hiding behind the larger crypts.
Suddenly the light from a flashlight passed across where they were hiding.
Claude started running for the truck. Earl was afraid to move, but he was also afraid to stay. He knew he couldn’t run, so he started crawling. Fast. When he got to the truck, Claude was on the phone with Mason. “We got us a problem.”
Spicey, Sasha and Dakin had just barely made their way into the dark part of the cemetery when they saw the back of a well-dressed man, sitting on a crypt stoop. Spicey put her finger over her lips, “Best be quiet. Got a man over there mournin’.”
Dakin continued to walk ahead. She stopped when she got in front of him, stepped back and pointed. Spicey and Sasha crept up quietly from the side, Sasha had a death grip on the back of Spicey’s skirt. Spicey and Sasha gasped at the sight of the two bullet wounds in his suit jacket and the dead stare on his face. Sasha shook Spicey’s shoulders as she screamed and then took off running. Spicey and Dakin ran after her. Spicey yelled back at Dakin, “Where be his pants?”
Thor, Jeanne, Pablo and Nelson all heard Sasha’s scream. Thor pulled his weapon and pointed north. “It came from over there.”
All four of them ran into the blackness dodging debris and crypts. Shortly, they heard sounds of people running toward them. Thor yelled, “Light ‘em up.”
Four flashlights blazed into the eyes of Spicey, Sasha and Dakin.
Thor yelled, “Freeze! Hands in the air.”
Sasha fainted. Dakin and Spicey threw their hands in the air and froze. Spicey dropped the bag of conjuring potions she had been holding.
Jeanne went over to Sasha who was now coming around. Jeanne holstered her gun and helped her stand, “This is Sasha. Spicey’s friend.”
Spicey said, “Spicey right here. Any chance you can move the light from my eyes?”
Sasha and Dakin squeezed next to Spicey. Jeanne asked, “What are you doing out here?”
Dakin answered, “We have a ritual to remove evil.”
Nelson looked at Pablo who shrugged. Thor asked, “Who screamed?”
Sasha answered, “I screamed when I saw that man with no pants.”
Thor twisted his head looking around, “We’ve got a guy out here with no pants?” Thor looked at Nelson, “Why don’t you chase down the pervert while we finish this.”
Spicey added, “He might be a pervert alright, but you ain’t gonna have to chase ‘im none. He be dead over there.” Spicey was pointing behind her.
Sasha leaned toward Jeanne and whispered, “Got two bullet holes in a real fancy jacket.”
Mason Dooley couldn’t believe Claude and Earl had left the judge leaning against some tombstone. Dooley told them to just stay in the truck while he checked things out. A patrol car pulled up and parked behind his. It was the officer Jeanne had called red sweatshirt at the SWAT training. Nathan Cottard walked over. “I thought I was the only car sent over here.”
Dooley didn’t know what Cottard was talking about and tried to bluff, “I just lit up a car on a traffic. What’s up?”
“Guess the FBI wants to pry open some crypts. They asked for a patrol to help. You might as well come, too.” Cottard left his lights going and started walking toward the back of the cemetery. Dooley was a few steps behind him and saw flashlights waving up ahead.
Cottard pointed and said, “I think we found our guys.” As Dooley and Cottard got closer they could see a crowd of people around a large tombstone. The flashlights were focused on a man sitting on the ground. Cottard identified himself to Thor and asked, “Wonder what happened to Judge Ingle’s pants?”
Tuesday 10: pm
Roger and Paul had just sent Stone Carson on his way. Mathew Core had not found anything useful in the intelligence databases yet. The Director agreed with Roger that they may learn more from seeing what Stone did next.
Roger sat heavily in his chair and looked across the desk to Paul. “I’m beat.”
“I started today on a Cancun beach.” Paul looked at his watch, “About twelve hours ago.”
Roger chuckled, “We can hardly call it a day when the rest of the team is at the cemetery. I’ll call Thor and see if they are about done.” Roger called Thor. Paul watched Roger’s expressions. It was pretty obvious the day wasn’t over. Roger finally said to Thor, “Paul and I will come over with some crowbars and give you guys a hand. I don’t want the locals messing this up. I’ll get our CSI over there and the coroner. See you in a few.”
Roger smiled at Paul.
Paul rolled his neck, “Sounds like we have some more work to do. Voodoo lady must have been right?”
Roger answered, “Don’t know. They haven’t even opened any crypts yet. So far they found two live Voodoo ladies, a Hoodoo Princess and a half dressed dead judge.”
Paul stood and dangled the car keys. “Welcome to New Orleans.”
On the ride over Paul asked, “What is the difference between Hoodoo and Voodoo?”
Roger answered, “According to Jeanne, and I might get this wrong, Voodoo is a religion, tied closely to Catholicism in that they worship the same saints. Voodoo is all about protection and a close relationship to protective Spirits. Hoodoo is a folk practice that can range from herbal healing to trickery and black magic. Con
juring is the term I think. They each have their own potions, tokens, chants, and titles. I hope I got that right. You should probably ask Jeanne to get the real definitions.”
Paul shook his head, “That’s plenty right there buddy. I’ll just go with what you said.”
Dooley excused himself on the pretense to take a piss. He watched the four FBI agents and Nathan Cottard head toward the back of the cemetery. Shit, shit, shit! They had crowbars. How the hell did they find out? Dooley called Claude’s phone, “Get the hell out of here! There’s FBI everywhere. Don’t start up that truck. Push it a few blocks away first. Damn thing will bring the Feds on us like a swarm of hornets.”
Thor told Spicey, Sasha and Dakin to go home and report to the FBI field office in the morning to give a statement. The three women practically ran from the center of the cemetery back to the street. Spicey held on to a light post and tried to catch her breath. She glared at Dakin, “Before I listen to your bright ideas again, we gonna visit Mambo. Gotta be an easier way to do this thing.”
Sasha frowned, “I ain’t going to Mambo’s no how, no way.”
Dakin’s eyes lit up, “You would take me to meet Mambo?”
Sasha beamed with pride, “Spicey sees Mambo all the time. Best buddies, them two.”
Dakin pressed her hand to her heart as a sign of admiration. Spicey shook her head and mumbled something about Hoodoo.
We had been flying around the cemetery watching everyone. It was pretty creepy seeing the judge just sitting there. Teresa thought we better hang around Spicey and make sure she got home safe and then go back to the cemetery. I really don’t want to go back. I know we aren’t mortal anymore, but hanging out at the cemetery is still very creepy. Mary kept stopping and reading the memorials. She is quite the historian at heart.
Mary said, “You guys are really missing out here. These memorial stones have a lot of rich history on them.”
Linda reminded Mary that our job was to keep an eye on Spicey. Mary mumbled that nobody made time for culture anymore. Whatever.
We found Spicey, Sasha and Dakin standing under the street light.
Spicey yelled and pointed, “There goes Betty Sue!”
About a block away an old pickup truck was being pushed down the street. Under the street light you could clearly see Betty Sue flipping off the world as she crawled away.
Jackson had just picked up the crawfish dinners for himself and his mom. He turned the corner to head home and saw Spicey, Sasha and Dakin running down the center of the street toward him.
Spicey flagged him down and Sasha and Dakin plopped into his backseat. Spicey jumped into the front seat and said, “Thank God you came along, Jackson. Turn around and help us follow that truck. Those guys been killin’ people!”
Jackson’s eyes looked as if they would pop from their sockets. “Killin’ people? Ms. Spicey, what happens when we catch ‘em?”
Spicey thumped on the dash a couple of times, “Just hurry it up. They done got inside that ol’ truck and started up the motor.”
Sasha leaned up toward the front seat and tapped Spicey’s shoulder. “I already be in this here back seat with a ‘princess’, so now you be thinkin’ you some kind of ‘Wonder Woman’? What you plan to do when we catch ‘em?”
Spicey dug into her purse, pulled out a pistol, and waved it in the air. She looked to the back seat, “You ain’t got to be no Wonder Woman if you be packin’.”
Dakin added, “We left our bag of potions in the cemetery. We can’t fight evil with that little pistol of yours. Heck, they’re probably packin’ too!”
Jackson pointed to the back seat, “You best listen to them two, Ms. Spicey. I ain’t prepared to fight no evil. I’m half drunk, and my momma’s waitin’ on her dinner.”
“Fine. We’ll just follow ‘em. See where they go.”
Dillard Boggs waited for Mason Dooley to answer his phone. A cocktail waitress came over and wiggled her boobs in Dillard’s face. He backhanded her face hard and sent her tray flying. She covered her face with her hand and tearfully apologized as she started to clean the mess.
Dooley finally answered. “Yes, Mr. Boggs?”
“What the hell’s going on? I’ve got a federal prosecutor over here asking about Molly Jarvis.”
“What?”
Dillard rolled his eyes, “Jarvis, you idiot. I’m supposed to call him back with my alibi. Sabastian Delacroix, do you know him?”
Dooley sure knew the name and knew it meant big trouble. “He’s the one they call Catahoula.”
“Oh crap!”
Virgil Holmes enjoyed all of the trappings his position provided. As Senior Assistant to the National Security Director, he only had to answer to the Solicitor General and the Department of Justice, Attorney General. Each of them having enough on their plates to ensure Virgil only met them at social functions.
Virgil had been groomed and mentored by the machine for decades. He was now one of their most powerful men. New Orleans had always been his pet project. There were unlimited opportunities for the machine if they controlled the ports. The foundation of a corrupt political base made infiltration easy.
After Katrina, the dollars flowing to the area were an unexpected boost and incentive for criminal entities. The recent declaration of a federally mandated consent decree to clean up the crime and corruption actually proved an opportunity to remove their enemies. Virgil had hand-picked his primary contact for the New Orleans office, right after Katrina. He afforded this contact a great deal of discretion in decision making. This morning’s news suggested that decision may have been a poor one.
Virgil dialed his New Orleans contact. “You and I have a problem. NSA intercepted a transmission from Acer to the New Orleans office of the FBI. It was forwarded to me by an associate. This transmission contains photos of Senator Dalton’s last moments and of Stone Carson’s location. Stone obviously failed at his entire mission and Acer has gone rogue. The result of this transmission is that the FBI is bringing in a substantial number of agents to your district. Be on the alert. I need not remind you that we are approaching several sensitive deadlines. We did not need the FBI brought into this by Acer. ” The line went dead.
The contact had listened carefully to the call and took special, personal note of the abrupt ending. When Acer proved Stone had failed at the mission, the contact decided to eliminate Stone as punishment. If the FBI was tipped by Acer that Stone was at the hotel and the bomb detonated, the FBI may assume the bomb was meant for them. Bombing FBI agents would not be viewed favorably by Holmes. The New Orleans office had just been put on notice. Amends would need to be made quickly.
Virgil placed a call to Stone Carson. “You are only to act on orders given by me. If the New Orleans contact calls you, I want you to report back to me. Is that understood?”
Stone answered, “I have trust issues. My hotel room door was wired to explode. I don’t believe Acer did it. He wanted the FBI to find the evidence he had planted. I think the New Orleans contact ordered my door blast.”
Virgil asked, “Who did open the hotel door?”
“FBI.”
“Shit.” Virgil paused, “You are the best we have Stone. From here on, I will personally take care of you.”
Stone smiled, “I understand, sir.”
Virgil hung up from the call and began pacing in his office. What the hell was wrong in New Orleans?
Zack locked the doors of the gym and promised himself he would hire another trainer by the end of the week. Working fourteen hour days was getting real old, real fast. Core had called and asked if he would stop in at their security headquarters. Zack’s curiosity peaked.
Core buzzed Zack in the building and gestured for him to take a seat. “Got a mystery man Roger wants some info on. I’m hitting brick walls here.”
Zack leaned closer to the desk, “Show me what we have.” Zack stared at the pictures of Stone Carson and the man wearing duct tape. Zack tapped on the picture of the duct tape man, “Uh, heard Senator
Dalton was missing, then I heard he was on a hunting trip. That’s him.”
Core stretched his neck to both sides and answered, “He’s not missing anymore. Feds say he was dumped from a helicopter into the Assumption Parish sinkhole this morning.”
Zack was holding the picture of Stone Carson and frowning. “I think I’ve seen this guy’s photo.” Zack laid the photo down and tapped it with his index finger, “ATF connected him with a hit of some Embassy guy last year. Couldn’t make it stick.” Zack’s eyes narrowed, “Now I remember! Department of Justice took the case and buried it. A lot of pissed off people over that one. This guy has a friend at Justice.”
Core twirled his pen, “Do you have any friends left at ATF?”
Zack smiled, “Just one big one.”
Roger and Paul drove the perimeter of the cemetery before they saw the cluster of vehicles and officers in the far corner. There were two coroner wagons, which wasn’t a good sign. They parked and walked over to where Thor was prying on a concrete door with a crowbar.
Just as Roger was going to volunteer to take over, the door popped open. The stench from inside sent everyone stumbling back. Thor pointed for the cemetery workers to check inside.
The worker held a mask over his face and worked his flashlight around the small room. “Got one that belongs and two that don’t.”
Thor threw his crowbar on the ground and motioned for the coroner’s team. He looked at Roger, “So far we have seven ‘extrees’ as Spicey would say.”
Paul glanced around at the unending rows of crypts. “How did you select which ones to open?”
Thor pointed to the front of the concrete door. “See down here? Whoever has been doing this hasn’t been very careful. Only takes a glance to see their tool marks.”
Thor looked at Roger, “I say we pick up from here in the morning. This might be all there is.”
Catahoula: Shallow End Gals (A Shallow End Gals Book 4) Page 9
