Who Dat Whodunnit

by Greg Herren

  “You knew Marina?” This came from Colin. Yet another cat was at his feet—this one black with gold highlights.

  “Oh, yes. Marina was one of my best friends.” She nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Dear, dear Marina was closer to me than my own brothers. She was the first person to really care about me. She was the one who convinced me to get the gastric bypass, you know. She told me we needed to pray on it, and God would let me know what He wanted me to do. It changed my life.”

  I was confused. “I thought Aunt Leslie—”

  “Leslie’s nothing but a whore.” She cut me off with a hiss. “She doesn’t love Skipper. She married him for his money, to be in our family. That’s a whore in my book. No, it was Marina and Marilou who convinced me to ask God where I should have it done, and it changed my life. No, God changed my life. My life now has purpose.”

  “You still haven’t told me how you joined the Ministry.” I lifted Jonah off me and set him down on the floor. He took off like a shot. I ruefully looked down at my black sweater, now covered in white cat hairs. I tried to brush it off to no avail.

  “My car broke down.” All the lines in her face smoothed out, and her eyes—her eyes took on an ecstatic look. “I was driving home from the airport—I’d just gone to that weight loss place in North Carolina and gained three pounds. I was upset and didn’t know what I was going to do. And my car started overheating on Airline Highway—I don’t even remember why I chose that way to come home, you know? It was like God was directing me. So I pulled into the next parking lot, and it was Dove Ministry.” She smiled. “And my cell phone battery was dead so I couldn’t call for help—God’s handiwork again—and so I had to go knock on the doors. It was Marina who answered the door.”

  God’s handiwork. Every time she said it, a chill went down my spine despite the overheated apartment. I was starting to sweat. How can she stand this place being so hot? I wondered.

  “Marina could see I was troubled—and not just about the car. She took me into her office and got me a glass of iced tea. She told me she would call one of the members who was a car mechanic, and she did. But she could tell there was something else wrong, and she wanted to know.” She gave me a glare. “She actually cared, which is more than I can say about my own family.”

  I dry-swallowed and bit my tongue. I didn’t know what to say—I didn’t want to start an argument with her. “So, Marina cared about you.”

  “Yes, she did, and I can tell by your tone, Milton Scott Bradley, that you don’t believe me!” She reached inside her sweatshirt and pulled out a gold cross inlaid with rubies. “She gave me this! For Christmas this year! And she always appreciated my cards and presents. No one else ever did! No one in my so-called family!” Her voice rose. “You think I don’t know what my own family thinks about me?”

  I snuck a glance at Colin. He wasn’t looking at either one of us—he was looking around the apartment. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, standing up. “But I need to use the bathroom.”

  She waved at the hallway. “You can’t miss it. The door’s open.” She watched him cross the room and once he went down the hallway, she hissed at me, “Isn’t it bad enough your lifestyle is condemning you and Frank to hell, do you have to make it worse with that one?”

  I gaped at her. I wanted nothing more than to slap the smug look right off her face.

  “I learned the truth at the Ministry,” she went on. “About everything. About how I was surrounded by vipers in my own family, every last one of them doing Satan’s work, trying to turn me into a willing servant of the Evil One. That’s why I was so unhappy, Reverend Werner himself told me so. Because I wanted to do good, because I wanted to do God’s work, and my family were all agents of the devil.”

  “And so they convinced you to do the gastric bypass?” I remembered vaguely hearing about it when she’d had it done. I’d always thought it was Aunt Leslie who convinced her to have it, but apparently I’d heard wrong.

  Although I could swear I remembered Aunt Leslie telling me about it—and I was pretty sure Leslie had stayed at the hospital with her.

  “Reverend Werner told me the weight was a curse from the devil, because he knew I was good, and so he made me eat and eat so my health would be bad and I would die early—which was the only way he could win, the only way he could defeat the goodness in my soul.” She sat back, folding her arms. “And I knew I was important to God, because why else would the devil want me to die? So I had the surgery so I could be healthier, have a longer life, keep doing God’s work.” Her face took on a beatific gleam again. “Marilou and Marina were right there with me through it all. Reverend Werner’s face was the first one I saw when I woke up from the surgery.” She made a face again. “No one from my family could be bothered.”

  No, I know it was Aunt Leslie who was there with you—even Mom and Dad visited you—you had it done at Touro, I remembered. I didn’t correct her, though. “That’s just terrible, Enid. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “My parents—Papa and Mama—they never cared about me. Ever. They didn’t want me. I might as well have never been born as far as they were concerned! It was always Skipper this, Skipper that. And John—he used to love me, but then he married that devil-worshipping whore Cecile, and she turned him against me.”

  It took all of my willpower not to leap across the room and strangle her. How dare you call my mother a whore? She’s worth a hundred of you, you crazy bitch!

  “And you, too, Scotty.” She gave me a sad look. “You were always such a sweet little boy, not like Storm and Rain. You and Jared were my little angels. But then you—you turned your back on God and became a homosexual. Jared was all I had left. So, when Marilou was so worried about Tara’s getting back involved with that terrible boy—that Joe Billette—and I thought to myself, Jared’s a good boy, a little misguided, Tara’s the right girl to set him back on the righteous path—so I helped bring them together.” She smiled, not looking at me. “They were such a beautiful young couple, too—they would have had the most beautiful children.” Her face darkened. “Who knew that Tara was such a sinner? Such a liar? But then Lucifer was the most beautiful of the angels, and look how that turned out. Poor Marilou—Tara just about broke her heart.” She took a sip of her wine. “I would have never introduced Jared to Tara had I known what she was doing.”

  “And what exactly was she doing?”

  “She was a fornicator—spreading her legs for any man who would give her the time of day.” Enid put her glass back down. “But she’s dead, and now Jared, my little angel, can find a really nice girl.”

  My hands were shaking from the effort to contain my rage. “You do know he’s seeing Dominique DuPre, don’t you?”

  She gave me a puzzled look. “Dominique DuPre?”

  I took a deep breath. “She’s a singer, and owns Domino’s, a jazz club on Bourbon Street.” I added, with extra emphasis, “She’s divorced.”

  Enid’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her lips. “Oh, no. That won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

  Colin walked hurriedly back into the living room. He picked up his coat and gave me a look. “Well, we really need to be going, Enid. Sorry to have just dropped in on you like this unannounced.”

  She looked relieved. I stood up and, with an effort, kissed her on the cheek. “Maybe we should have dinner sometime.”

  “Wait just a second.” She rooted around on the coffee table and finally removed two food-stained pamphlets. She handed one to each of us. “Please, will you read these for me? And think about your lifestyle. Please?”

  I looked down at it. Why Homosexuals Are Condemned To Hell—But They Can Be SAVED! I swallowed, resisting the urge to shove it down her throat. “Thanks.” I shoved it into my jacket pocket.

  She picked up her cell phone off the end table and was playing with it as she walked us to the door. “Hello? Yes, I had some company, but they’re just now leaving,” she said into the phone as she closed the door. “Bye, boys.”r />
  On the landing outsider her door, we looked at each other just as it started raining again. Colin rolled his eyes and twirled an index finger around his right temple.

  “Come on, let’s get home,” I said, grabbing his arm. “I feel like I need to take a long hot shower.”

  “A Silkwood shower, for sure.”

  We were halfway down the stairs when I heard a loud cracking sound, and Colin grabbed me. “Get down!” he half shouted, shoving me forward.

  I lost my balance but managed to grab hold of the railing, catching myself a few steps down. Pain shot out of my knees, and I winced. “What the—”

  “Someone’s shooting at us,” he warned, gesturing down the rest of the stairs. “Get down as fast as you can, and stay down. Try to get to the car if you can.”

  He pulled a gun from his coat pocket and clicked the safety off. He peered into the gloom.

  My quad muscles screamed as I hurried down the stairs as fast as I could, crouched down to make a smaller target. I heard another shot and a thud a few moments later as the bullet embedded itself into the railing about where I’d just been a few seconds before. I somehow made it down and crouched down on the wet cement in front of a Honda Accord. I glanced back up at Colin. He hadn’t moved.

  I peered around the Accord. The street was pretty well lit, but it was starting to get misty, creating weird glows around the streetlights and creating shadows. I looked across the street but could see nothing. There was a big house on the corner with a gallery wrapped around the first floor, but it was completely lit up. All the windows in the house were dark, though. I looked up to the second floor. No gallery, and all the windows appeared to be closed.

  So, the shooter had to be either on Coliseum Street or in the park.

  I could hear my heart beating as I crept along the side of the Accord toward the street, keeping myself shielded entirely by the car. When I reached the end of the car, I looked back up at where Colin was still crouched on the stairs. He was looking in the direction of the park as well.

  I slowly let my head around the back end of the car.

  I could see a vaguely human shape underneath a huge live oak in the park.

  I saw a flash, and a second later the sound of the gunshot reached me.

  Behind me I could hear thudding steps running down the stairs.

  I turned and saw Colin crab-walking across the cement toward me.

  “He’s under the live oak tree,” I whispered. “Give me the gun.”

  Colin locked eyes with me. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  He slipped me the gun. I stuck my head around the side of the car again.

  Damn! The shape was gone!

  “He’s not there anymore,” I said, just as Colin’s cell phone began ringing.

  There was another gunshot from the park, and I ducked back around the car.

  I heard an engine start up and the squeal of tires as a car sped off. I looked back around in time to see the glow of red taillights go by on Coliseum Street.

  “Nice work,” Colin said into the phone, standing up. He put his phone away and winked at me, gesturing for me to stand up.

  I did, and looked over at the park as two black shapes ran out of the park right for us, without a sound, at an almost inhuman speed.

  I let out a deep sigh of relief as the shapes reached us.

  “I love you guys,” I said as I recognized them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eight of Swords

  Restricted action through indecision

  “The driver got away,” Rhoda Sapirstein said as she took her hood off, running a hand through her mop of curls. She was plainly disgusted. “The coward.”

  “I got a picture of his license plate with my phone,” her partner, Lindy Zielinsky, said as she removed her own mask and shook out her long chestnut hair.

  I’d first met Rhoda and Lindy during the Pleshiwarian case, when they’d swung from the roof of my building on ropes and come crashing through one of the sets of French doors leading out to my balcony. They were old friends of Colin’s, and both were Mossad agents. Rhoda and Colin had actually gone through training together—and he’d trained Lindy several years later. Rhoda was originally from Haifa and had a thick Israeli accent to go with her devilish sense of humor. She was strikingly good looking, and her body was an impressive collection of lean muscle mass.

  Lindy was American born and had a Texas twang when she spoke. Her family had immigrated to Israel when she was in her late teens. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with glittering green eyes and a heart-shaped face. She also had an impressive set of breasts. They weren’t just partners as agents, but in their private life as well.

  Colin called them the Ninja Lesbians, and I couldn’t think of them any other way.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the Ninjas had our back?” I gave Colin a good smack on the arm. You couldn’t ask for better backup than Rhoda and Lindy.

  In the distance we heard the sound of approaching police sirens. Colin looked at me. “You’d better call Venus and get her down here on the QT.”

  I sighed and pulled out my phone. I do not take it as a point of pride that I have a New Orleans police detective on speed dial—and the feeling is mutual. She answered the phone with a long-suffering sigh. “Let me guess—bodies in your parents’ living room again?”

  “No, this time there’s only one, and it’s in Coliseum Square,” I replied.

  “I’ll be right there. Do not move, do not touch anything, and don’t get your story straight,” she snapped before she hung up on me.

  As I put my phone back into my jacket pocket, I glanced up at Enid’s windows just in time to see the blinds close. Interesting, I thought.

  Lindy and Rhoda led us back to the body, with Lindy keeping up a running commentary. “The car was a green Accord, just like you suspected, Colin, and yes, it followed you out to that church, then back to that Chili’s place—which smelled incredible, by the way, I hope the food was as good as it smelled—and finally back here.”

  “You were following the people following us?” I gave Colin another dirty look. Seriously, would it have killed him to tell me they were protecting us?

  Colin winked at me as Lindy nodded. “Of course. Fortunately when we got the call from Tel Aviv about being loaned out to Blackledge, we were already in the States.”

  “Yes, thank you for ruining our vacation in beautiful Palm Springs,” Rhoda deadpanned, smacking Colin on the arm. “First one we’ve had in years, and of course we don’t even get to relax in the sun for two full days before we get the call.”

  “Can I help it if I wanted the best?” He leered at her.

  She smirked. “Well, it’s true that we’re the best, of course.”

  “Good work, thank you.” Colin replied as we reached the body under the live oak.

  He was lying facedown in the mud and was wearing all black. He looked to be about six feet tall or so, and in pretty good shape. He was wearing a black stocking cap on his head. There was a bleeding hole in his back and a pool of blood puddling in the dirt beneath him.

  “Not a professional,” Rhoda said contemptuously. “Definitely an amateur. He was easy to spot on your tail, and the shooting? Pfah.” She pointed back to the house. “Look at the ridiculous angle he was trying for! He would have to be a trained sniper to make that shot—or incredibly lucky. And a trained sniper he was obviously not.” She shook her head. “Why he did not wait makes no sense to me. Or why he did not lie in wait for you at the bottom of the stairs, where he could get off clear shot at short range—it makes no sense.” She shrugged. “Amateurs.”

  I looked in the direction she was pointing and could see she was right. It was a ridiculous angle to try for. He could have easily hidden between the cars. From there, even if he opened fire when we came out onto the back gallery, he could have had a clear and easy shot.

  I turned at the sound of footsteps coming up behind us on the sidewalk. Venus Casanova and h
er partner Blaine Tujague were coming up behind us. “How did you get here so fast?” I asked. “I didn’t hear your car.”

  Venus’ face was impassive. “We live on Coliseum Square.” She gestured over her shoulder with her left hand. “Just a few houses down from here.”

  I did a double take. “Together?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no—I live in the carriage house behind Blaine’s house.” She waved her hand. “That doesn’t matter. So, what do we have here?” she asked, kneeling down next to the body as a pair of squad cars came racing around the corner at Martin Luther King. “Who shot him?”

  “That would be me.” Rhoda stepped forward, and nodded. “He was shooting at Abram and Scotty—”

  “Colin,” Lindy interjected, and Rhoda looked nonplussed for a moment.

  “It’s all right.” Venus held up her hand. “I know his real name, but for simplicity’s sake—and my case file—we’ll just call him Colin, shall we?” She took her notepad out of her jacket pocket. “Blaine, you take the women. I’ll talk to the locals.” She gestured with her head to the left side of the tree. We walked over and waited while she gave the patrolmen instructions. As they started taping off the area, she walked across the wet grass toward us, an expectant look on her face.

  “Scotty didn’t know Lindy and Rhoda were trailing us,” Colin said before either Venus or I could say anything. “I mentioned we were getting some backup, but I didn’t tell him they were here.”

  “And why didn’t you?” I glared at him. “You scared the crap out of me with all that stuff about the car following us, when you knew all along—”

  “Stop!” Venus said in her “I’ve had enough of this crap” voice, holding up her hand. “This is my investigation and I don’t want to hear any gibberish. Let me ask some questions—and I’m not going to tolerate any sidetracking, got it?”