by Curtis, Gene
“Did you ever see this knife before?”
“No. I assume this was the knife that was used to kill my mother.”
As always while contemplating an answer to a question, as if to make a show of it, or to distract his opponent, Sergeant Polaris leaned back and forth on the balls of his feet, puffing on his cigar. The humidity was oppressive and the smoke just seemed to hover around him and slowly ooze to the ground. He folded his arms across his chest. “My—you are all grown up aren’t ya? Do you really want to know the details? They aren’t pretty.”
The scowl was all he needed.
“I left some things in the car. I didn’t know how much you wanted to know, or how much I wanted to tell you.”
“I want to know it all, Sergeant.”
“I thought you would say that.”
“You know that your mother was stabbed and she bled out on the floor in The Celtic Wheel. Her arms had been restrained behind her...by her jacket, midway of her arms.”
He turned and with his arms at his back pointing to the places that her arms were restrained. “A twisting method that I hadn’t ever seen before...and I’ve seen a lot. It must have been quick—quick enough to surprise her.”
“Why?”
“Whoever did this to Yvonne Jones not only knew her but knew that she would have a knife, maybe even that particular knife. I think they left the knife to tell us something. Or else why leave a valuable knife, and why wipe it clean on her blouse sleeve and shove it back into the sheath on her belt?”
She looked up from the file to search his face. “While my mother was...bleeding all over the floor of the tavern, they cleaned the knife on her blouse?”
It was his turn to nod, searching her eyes to see if he should go on. “You wanted to know, but what is more important is that you need to know how ruthless her killer is.”
“Sergeant, you know that my dad is a Chaplain and a counselor for the Navy. Most preachers and ministers do counseling.”
“Oh yeah, I know.”
“Anyway, my dad has dealt with some pretty brutal things in his office. My sister and I used to listen in until he found out about it. After that we were shuffled off to the beach or the library with my mother when he had after hour appointments. But then my mother left us. Three different times, and each of these times, I got to know my dad more and more, and I also got to see all sides of his profession. He is really very good at what he does.”
“Really? Maybe you should tell him that, and then maybe you two wouldn’t be so angry at each other.”
“I didn’t say his skills extended to our family.”
“Huh. Sometimes it’s easier to see the faults in others. I read in a book one time that it is easier to continue to be angry with someone than it is to forgive them, but then again, sometimes you need that anger to do what has to be done.”
“Anger...anger makes people do some really terrible things. None of us are beyond the occasional quick temper, but the military can bring some really horrible things out of people. There are some wonderful people in the church that help with the church functions, but there are also people who think they can do some really terrible things during the week as long as they go to counseling and show up for Sunday worship, and then there are those who want revenge. We had a guy come to church and kiss and hug people after he had informed everyone that he had AIDS. In his ignorance he thought he would give it to us all—we hadn’t done anything to him, but yet to him that was a justification. He hadn’t wanted AIDS and by using a dirty needle he had contracted it so he felt if he gave it to others who didn’t want it he was fulfilling his need for revenge.”
“Sad, because if he gave my family AIDS I would want revenge on him.”
“But don’t you see –that is just what he wanted. Then someone from his family would want revenge and then someone from your family would want revenge and before you know it…”
There were squirrels in the tree jumping from limb to limb. LeOmi had some peanuts in her back pack. She pulled out one and stuck it in the crook of a limb. The squirrel promptly came down, grabbed the nut and perched a few branches above them toward the trunk, watching them as he ate.
“Some people’s hearts remain evil and the only thing they want is to not get caught. Those don’t usually even have the gumption to set foot on the church grounds, unless of course it is to cause as much havoc as possible.”
She gave the file back to him. He took out the picture of the knife. “I need to know why your mom had a priceless hand-forged antique dagger. It seemed to be part of her wardrobe the way she carried it around. I don’t think she used it to clean her nails. So I need to know if she expected something bad to happen, if she had been threatened in some way. Or was it just a fashion statement, some people wear huge diamond rings or drive cars that are worth a fortune. I wonder if she knew how much it was worth.”
“I have no idea where she got it Sergeant, probably from her boyfriend. I know my father couldn’t afford anything like that. Remember, I come from a poor military household.”
“How about your grandmother? She is loaded, could she have given it to her?”
“I doubt if she would have given her anything. They had not been speaking to each other for years.”
“Huh. Yet she came back to New Orleans. Why?”
“It is the last place I thought she would be Sergeant.”
“Yet she was here. Was it for Compton? Was it because of her mom? Yet you say there was no love loss there, or was it for something else? Did she know anyone else in New Orleans?”
“I’m sure she did. She grew up here. I had never heard her speak of anyone. She briefly talked about grandmother and Hannah and I have seldom if ever heard her speak of her father or any other relatives, as I said, she never volunteered information. You should talk to Grand-Mère or even my father. They may have some information about any other friends or family.”
“It is amazing how some people are so secretive, even to their own family.”
The squirrel was back and he had brought a few friends. LeOmi pulled out several more peanuts and as she placed them the squirrels didn’t even wait for her to move before they were un-tucking and chewing off the outer shell and dropping it below, some pieces landing on Sergeant Polaris shoulder and shoes. He did not seem to notice, or care. He blew the smoke from his cigar and they scurried up to other portions of the tree.
“Well from what you have told me, and what my research has established, it seems that your mom could disappear whenever she wanted to. There is not much on the books about her living in New Orleans at all. Not just recently either, there is hardly anything from when she was growing up. She has always had her passport up to date, even when she was a child, but there were no documented travels. The only thing I found was a marriage certificate to your dad. There is no birth certificate on file for her, your grandmother or your grandfather for that matter. I couldn’t even find a death certificate for your grandfather. Do you know anything about that?”
“He was out of town on business and there was a car accident. That is, I assumed it was a car accident, but no one ever said. The only reason I know about that was when I was enrolled in school they asked if there were any diseases in the family and they asked my mom what her father had died of.”
“I’ve got another question for you and don’t start jumping around and acting all crazy, just keep talking normally. While we have been talking, there has been a guy that keeps peeking around the building. Is he with you?”
“Is he an old guy wearing a filthy SAINTS cap and missing his front teeth?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, that is one of Grand-Mère’s tattlers. My grandmother always has me followed.”
“Followed?”
“There are different ones. Sometimes I give them the slip. She is not the kind of person to leave things to chance. She makes a point to know everything that goes on in the city.”
“Do you think she knew your mom had returned to
New Orleans?”
LeOmi paused, “I had thought about that. I can almost guarantee that she knew.”
The squirrels were circling again. LeOmi threw some nuts on the ground and three were brave enough to come down and hurry away.
“What did you do up north?”
“Who is the detective here?”
“If I am going to be honest with you, don’t you need to be honest with me?”
“As you probably know, from your research on the internet in there, I am a detective from Philadelphia. We had a rash of killings that we couldn’t solve. With money being tight they shelved the case. I fought with them to reopen it and then finally I took a leave of absence to come here.”
“You must have had some reason for leaving your home and coming here other that what you are telling me.”
“I had my reasons.”
“Hey. If I have to be honest with you …?”
“I had my reasons.”
“So I am working on a need to know basis.”
“We all are working on a need to know basis.”
“You told me that I only had more questions for your questions, so let’s just think of what the true questions are that we need to answer.”
“Well I think that your grandmother has some knowledge on the signet. I believe that your father truly doesn’t know anything about it.”
“My father could never kill anyone.”
“Well you can’t convince me of that. It seems to me that the people that spend all their time in church do that for a reason. Guilt from deeds so bad that they do not trust themselves outside in the real world. It has been my experience that these congregations, these flocks are there because they are capable of so much more than we could ever guess. I was a choir boy once.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“Yeah I was, and I was involved in a big church. Then one day, one of the deacons announced he was divorcing his wife. Then about a month later, he was arrested for abusing his wife and children. Then by the time all the gossip had reached every last cubbyhole in the church, it was known that he was a member of a cult that had been sent to infiltrate our church and to input mistrust and all sorts of things to pull people from the paths that they should be taking. This is when I knew that I could love God and not attend a church. Any church.”
She took a deep breath in protest.
“Yeah, it’s true that I am not perfect—I never said I was. But do you know the heart of the person sitting beside you on that pew?” He shook his head back and forth to make his point, “No more so than you know the heart of the person who is your usual cashier at the Quick Mart, or the produce stand.” He stopped and stepped back as if she had used a can opener to pull those things from him. “I can’t believe I have told you this. I haven’t spoken of this in a few decades.”
“Well Sergeant, I don’t know what to say.”
His cigar had an extension of ash almost up to where his fingers held it. He flicked them towards the squirrels.
“As long as I can remember, my dad has always been the preacher in a church so we always went to all the scheduled activities. I don’t know about the other people, but I could always tell when my mom was getting restless. Don’t get me wrong, we used to be happy. My mom was different when I was young. When I reached an age that I didn’t need her as much, she would go off into her own world, but still in the same house. I often wondered if I said something to her, if I was mean and told her that I didn’t need her, and she just turned away from me and my dad.”
“It is normal to think that.”
“You know we went through all that counseling and church sponsored stuff, sort-of like talk-ins where we would complain about how she wasn’t there anymore. After the third time, I guess they were listening to most of the same things over and over again so there was a time where they let me just stop going. But my dad is probably going through counseling now.”
The Sergeant said, “My mom died when I was young so I never got to know her, I guess I had it easy in some ways and some ways not so easy.”
The squirrels watched and waited, like they were spectators at a tennis match.
“You know more about Julian Compton than you are telling me, don’t you?”
“I told you already about the Turkish Prince thing. I told you about him being some kind of financial wizard. You know that he lives here in New Orleans. You know that I suspect that he knows something about the signet.”
He folded his arms, tucking the folder under his arm and crumpling his jacket even more and revealing a huge coffee stain down the front of his white shirt. He paced a little then stopped.
“I think the signet is a key to the murders in Philly and some other places too. The Turkish Prince has friends and enemies almost everywhere. There are some twenty-six murders that we have attributed to people who have something to do with that signet. I have traced them by their money trail. From there I found out about his relationship with your mother, some of the money was connected to the Journal purchase, which I assume is the reason she is dead. I suspect that she wanted the Journal and she didn’t want Compton to have it.”
He started pacing again, “You understand this is all just a theory. I only have a few facts where your mother is concerned.”
“You have more than I have. When my mother went away the second time, I was very surprised when she came back again—but always the trusting and forgiving husband, he let her come back, but this time she remained distant, not even trying to come back to a life with her family. Then, Compton came for her. He just pulled-up out front in his shiny car; she came out of the house almost immediately, dressed in fancy expensive clothes and designer shoes. I watched her leave.”
The squirrels were like statues, waiting.
“Compton killed her, didn’t he?”
“I only have intuition, I don’t have proof.”
“Proof, then the Journal is what we should focus on. Either he sent her for it, or she used his money to buy it. It must be connected to her murder. What surprises me is that she apparently willingly met him there at The Celtic Wheel. Did she trust him enough to meet him at a place like that? Or did he lure her there with the promise of something else or did he just betray and murder her without another thought?”
She pulled out a handful of nuts and tossed them on the ground, five squirrels sat around the pile, munching.
“I have done some research on the Journal, but it is very slim. I have some printouts of the front and back but no reference to the Sumerian text. Do you have more information than that?”
“I have some of the history of who has owned it and where it has been stored, apparently the owners have been very cautious and kept it hidden away for the last ninety years, then the estate was passed on to the descendants and lo and behold; it was for sale to the highest bidder, which in this case was your mom: one point five million dollars. I think she got the money from Compton, or maybe Compton didn’t want to be the registered owner, and when she was supposed to report back to his mansion with the little trinket, well, she just took it on her merry little way. Imagine that. How dare she? I guess he got angry.”
“What did she do with the Journal?”
“Now there is the big question. That and, what did she want with it in the first place? All questions and no answers. There must be some clue that will make everything start falling into place. Something I’m missing.” He turned quickly and the squirrels scurried.
“What about you, do you have any ideas?”
“Well whatever is going on has been going on since the first time my mother left. I was six years old when she left the first time, just after Ruby left to start school and it could have started before then. That was just when I was old enough to know that something was going on. But now that I look at the whole picture, she may have married my dad to leave this other life behind, and then maybe she missed it.”
“So you think that your grandmother is the one with the answers, and she
is the one who has said the least.”
He started packing things away in the car, stopped and turned to her, “You don’t think that much about your grandmother do you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well let’s just say it is that intuition thing again?”
“I have never met anyone like Grand-Mère. She has a lot of...inconsistencies...and things are not what they seem.”
“You’re right, that little old lady wields a lot of power in this town. Someday, I will let you read the folder I have on her.”
“What? Are you saying that my grandmother has been an object of an investigation other than her involvement with my mother?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Well, let’s just say…you remember what I said about being surprised at what people are capable of?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, your Grand-Mère didn’t just come by all her power and influence by chance. She built that up over time and your mother knew all about it.”
“What?”
He shook his head back and forth, “No. There are some things, that it is best for your loved ones to tell you about. If you still get the cold shoulder from your Grand-Mère, try your dad. I am sure he can fill you in on a few things.”
“Secrets, Sergeant?”
“If I told you, it will not make a difference between you and me and what we need to do, but it would make a difference to your family. Some family secrets are best left in the family.”
“But I’m leaving soon.”
“Oh really!”
“At the end of August, I start school, a private school—not here in New Orleans. Before I leave, I want to find out what happened to my mother.”
He turned to leave and abruptly stopped and faced her. He took the last good inhale off of his cigar and then he stopped, threw it down on the ground rolling his heel back and forth—always the showman.
“Don’t want them squirrels picking up any bad habits.” He picked-up the crumpled remains of his cigar and stowed it in a wad of paper. “Tomorrow, same time.”
She nodded.
