by Jessie Cooke
“Hmm…I don’t know,” Munroe said. “Do you think it would change the meaning?”
Izzy shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know shit about that guy other than he’s some kind of voodoo god or something. A good client of mine brought in a picture of a tat she wanted. It had something to do with this La Croix guy, I guess. Anyways…”
“Was that Kat? Your client?” David asked.
“Yeah, you know Kat?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” David told him. He knew he was playing fast and loose with the term “girlfriend,” but as long as Kat didn’t hear him, he was safe.
“Cool. I love me some Kat.” David tried not to frown. He didn’t like the way the artist had winked at him when he said that.
“Have you had anyone else ask you about a La Croix tattoo?” Munroe asked him.
“Nah, just Kat. The picture she brought in wasn’t super clear, and she didn’t know anything about it either back then, so I ended up calling the artist that did the tattoo in the picture she brought in…”
“You called the artist? How did you know who did that tattoo?”
“The photo Kat brought in had a number on it…”
“Do you still have his number? Or his email?” David asked, maybe too eagerly, judging by the look on Munroe’s face. He was proving again that he belonged in the lab and not on the streets.
Izzy scooted his stool over to the counter where his tools and ink were. The hair on the back of David’s neck rose when he stuck his hand into the back of one of the drawers. Maybe his instincts were better than he thought, or maybe he just knew the Southside too well. David had his service revolver out of his shoulder holster and was aiming it at Izzy’s face before the other man pulled his gun out of the drawer.
“Put the gun down,” David said.
Izzy complied, thankfully. David didn’t really want to be the one to kill the Skulls’ favorite artist. “What the fuck is this? You’re cops? What the fuck do you want from me?” Izzy had lost any semblance of a friendly demeanor. Munroe looked like he wanted to smack David in the head.
“Just some information,” David said. “What do you have to hide, Izzy? Why were you going for your gun?”
“I don’t like people that ask so many questions. It’s been my experience that they’re looking for trouble. Apparently, I was right.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Munroe said, in a calm voice. “Just information. I tried to call you about it, but you wouldn’t take any of my calls.”
“Fuck, that was you? My girl never got your name, she just said some cop kept calling. I don’t talk to cops.”
“I have to ask again, Izzy…what do you have to hide?”
“I’m not hiding shit. I just don’t like cops.”
“Then help us out for Kat’s sake,” David said. “We’re trying to find the man that killed her mother.” Izzy lost a little of the suspicion that clouded his eyes, but not all.
“Kat’s mom died a long time ago, when she was a kid.”
“That’s right,” David said, “But that doesn’t make her want to know who killed her any less.”
“Don’t know what the fuck it has to do with me.”
“Nothing, Izzy, not you personally,” Detective Munroe said. “It’s about the tattoo. That photograph Kat brought you was most likely of her mother, right?” Izzy nodded. “We have the same photo, but none of ours had a phone number on them, so I’m confused.”
“You saying I’m lying? Fucking ask Kat. It was one of those professional, sexy photo shoots, and the photographer’s name and address and phone number was in the corner. I called the photographer to get the artist’s name and number, and it turns out they were one and the same.”
“What was his name?” David asked.
“Fuck, man, that was like six years ago. His name was something stupid...”
“Olden?”
Izzy furrowed his brow. “Yeah, something like that.”
“It was his name on the photograph?” Munroe asked.
“No. It said something about photography… Voodoo, or some shit… Fuck, it’s been six years. Why don’t you ask Kat?”
David left Detective Munroe in the living room with a confused Angel and went into the bedroom to talk to Kat. She looked like she was just waking up as he walked in. “Hi there,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t kill your sister.”
He grinned. “Thank you, baby.”
“I heard another man’s voice. Who else is here?”
David sighed and sat down next to her. “It’s the detective from New Orleans.”
Kat’s eyes brightened and David saw the hope in them that he’d been trying to avoid. He was still reluctant to believe anything they’d learned so far was going anywhere, and he was afraid that false hope would hurt her worse than no hope at all. “Did he find something out?”
“Not really,” David said, watching the hope drain out of her eyes. “We have a theory, about the guy that did their tattoos. The detective found out some things about a woman who was close to him and to your mom and his wife. But this guy moves around a lot and we haven’t been able to pin him down. We talked to Izzy today.”
“Izzy? What could he possibly have to do with it?”
“Nothing, as far as the murders go,” David told her. “But he told us he contacted the man that took the photos of your mom…and he was also the tattoo artist.”
“Shit! Yeah, he contacted the photographer trying to get a clearer picture of the tattoo. Shit! This whole time…” She started to get out of bed.
“What are you doing?” David stopped her. “You don’t need to get up.”
“I’ve had that fucker’s name and number this whole time! I found proofs of Mom’s pictures. I thought they were clearer than the other photos so those are the ones I took to Izzy. The proofs said ‘Voodoo Photography’ in the corner and there was an address and phone number. That’s the number Izzy used to get ahold of the guy. Let me go. The pictures are in a box at the apartment…”
“Just tell me where and I’ll get them.”
“No! I’m going with you. You won’t be able to find them.” She jerked her arm away and tried to stand up. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she squeaked in pain and swayed on her feet. David grabbed her again and lowered her back to the bed. Her face was as white as a sheet. “I might need your help,” she said.
David chuckled. “My help is going to be going over to the apartment to get the photos. You need to stay in bed. The doctor told you before we left the hospital that your blood pressure was low and standing up too quickly can make it drop even more. If you pass out, I’m taking you back to the hospital—is that what you want?”
She curled her lip at him. “I think I had more freedom there.”
He smiled at her again, softly. “I’m sorry if I’m being overprotective. I just want you to give yourself time to heal, baby. Please, just tell me where the photos are and I’ll get them. I won’t call the number or do anything else. I’ll bring them right back here first and we’ll decide what to do together, okay?”
She rolled her eyes but David could tell by the look on her face that she was in pain. “Fine.”
“Do you want a pain pill?”
“No. You’re not going to dope me up so I have no say in this.”
He laughed. “I’m not trying to dope you up…”
“Just go get the pictures. They’re in a black shoebox on the top shelf of the linen closet in the hallway. The keys are in my backpack.”
“Okay. I’ll see if Angel can stay a little longer.”
“I agreed to stay here, damn it! At least trust me to take care of myself for an hour while you’re gone. Angel already told me she needs to pick Susie up from school soon. Let her go and do what she needs to do. I’m fine.”
Reluctantly, David agreed. He had a bad feeling leaving her alone, but she was right, he had to trust her. Angel even volunteered to have someone else pick up Susie, but David didn’t want Kat angry with
him. He let Angel go and then he and Detective Munroe headed to the bar.
39
Kat waited until David and everyone else was gone before pulling back the sheet and looking at her bandage. It was saturated with a pinkish-tinged fluid. She’d felt it gush when she tried to stand up, but if she had told David, he would have never left. The nurse told her that she should only worry if the drainage was bright red, so she wasn’t worried, but the bandage was saturated and needed to be changed. She also needed clean sheets. Between the drainage and the fact that David made her have a huge orgasm earlier, she felt a little creepy lying in the bed.
She got up slowly, sitting at the edge of the bed and dangling her feet. Then, using the walker that she was given at the hospital, and hated, she walked into the bathroom. She grimaced when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She couldn’t imagine what David…and Angel…must have been thinking while they were talking to her all morning. She looked like hell and that was putting it mildly. She wasn’t supposed to shower for a few days yet, but there was no way she was going to walk around looking like this for a few more days. She remembered what she’d seen the nurse in the hospital do to her roommate’s wound. Slowly making her way around the small apartment, she found a trash bag, some duct tape, and a pair of scissors and made a plastic patch to cover her wound dressing. She fixed the water so it was tepid and not hot and then she stripped off the tank top she was wearing and climbed in. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she stood underneath the spray and let it cascade down over her back and shoulders. She had to hold on to the bar against the wall and move slowly, but by the time she was finished washing her hair and scrubbing her body, she felt like a new woman.
She changed her dressing, fixed her hair in a braid, and put on a clean pair of underpants, shorts, and a t-shirt. The reflection she saw then was no beauty queen, but it was a hell of a lot better than it had been…and she smelled better too. She had to look through every closet before she found where David kept his clean sheets, but once she did, she stripped the bed and remade it. She was feeling light-headed by that time and her vision was getting gray and foggy, but she told herself that once she was finished, she’d rest a lot easier.
Kat had just finished making the bed and tucking the dirty sheets into the laundry hamper when there was a knock on the door. She mumbled a curse underneath her breath and, using the walker for support again, she went to answer it. Assuming it was one of the club girls, or even Angel returning, she didn’t even check to see who it was before flipping open the lock and pulling the door inward. She had to blink her eyes a couple of times to get a clear picture of the man standing on the threshold; her vision was getting blurrier and her head was heavy. “Can I help you?”
The man smiled. He had dark skin, but his teeth were huge, and almost blindingly white. “Hello, Katrina.”
“Who the—?” That was all Kat got out before the man grabbed her and pushed her back inside the apartment. She was on the verge of passing out and when she heard the click of the lock as the man closed the door, panic consumed her. Who the fuck was this guy and what did he want?
“You don’t look so good, Katrina. You shouldn’t be up wandering around so soon after surgery. Here, let me help you back to bed.” The man had hold of her arm and Kat jerked out of his grip, knocking herself back into the wall. She was sliding down to the floor when she felt his hands back on her. She tried to kick out at him, but her legs were too weak.
“Who are you? What the fuck do you want?”
“Let’s get you back to bed and then we’ll talk. We don’t have much time and I’d like you to be conscious…at least for a little while.” His tone was soft and even, and that gave Kat the creeps almost worse than the fact that he kept using her name. Is this one of Tucci’s guys? That didn’t make sense, since her first payment wasn’t due for weeks. She didn’t have the energy to fight this guy physically. Her only chance was cooperating, at least until she figured out what he wanted…or David came home. She didn’t try to fight him as he walked her down the hallway. “Which room?” he asked. She pointed toward David’s room and he led her inside. Once they were at the edge of the bed, he let go of her and she sat down. “Go ahead and lie down and get comfortable, Katrina, this won’t take long and then you’ll be free to sleep…peacefully.” She didn’t like the way he said that, or the way he smiled afterwards. Who the hell is this guy? She scooted back on the bed, but left her feet out of the covers and sat up against the headboard instead of lying down.
“Okay, now tell me who you are and what you want.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and Kat automatically moved over. He smiled, like she amused him. “My name is Olden Tanis. Does that mean anything to you, dear?” The panic moved from her chest into her throat and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Of course that name meant something to her. He was the tattoo artist that had given her mother that voodoo tattoo all those years ago. The one that David now suspected of being the killer. Fuck! She had to stall him until David got back. This is why I shouldn’t go fucking anywhere without my gun!
“You gave my mother a tattoo years ago.”
He looked pleased that she knew who he was. “Yes, I did.” He touched her arm and gooseflesh rose up instantly. “And you got the same one.”
“Yes. In her honor,” Kat said.
“Do you know what that tattoo stands for? Or, I should say, who?”
“Some voodoo god.”
He snorted. “Baron La Croix is not a ‘god,’ as you call him. He’s a loa.”
“Fine, he’s a loa. Did you come here to give me a lesson in religion or…?”
“You have a smart mouth.”
“True story. I’m bored with this conversation.” Kat tried to scoot out the other side of the bed, but the man grabbed her and pushed her back down on the bed. She had an excruciating pain in her side, but she refused to cry out and let this asshole know. “What the fuck, man? What do you want?”
“As I was saying, Baron La Croix is a loa. He is the loa of death, lust, obscenity, and sexuality. That means that he oversees ushering those who have lived an unclean life into the afterlife. Along the way, they will be punished. It’s up to him if they are allowed to be reborn as an animal, a diab, which is a demonic creature, or in cases where he feels their death was punishment enough, he’ll give them another chance at being a human. They’ll have the same temptations, but it will be a second chance for them to do it right. In some cases, when a person’s soul is free at night to dream, it can be stolen by a diab. I’m sorry to tell you that was what happened to your mother.”
It was Kat’s turn to snort. “You’re crazy.” The man put one big hand on her throat, and suddenly the panic was back and it consumed her. He wasn’t pressing hard enough to cut off her air, but as soon as she started to struggle, he increased the pressure.
“Be still and listen!” he ordered. Kat lay still, but only so that she could buy herself some time. If this son of a bitch killed her, she was going to go with as much of his DNA underneath her fingernails as she could manage. “It happened to your mother, and once Marta told me…”
“Who’s Marta?” Kat croaked out.
“Marta was a blessed hounsis. She could see the darkness in your mother…and others…and she taught me how to do the same. I can see it in you, right now.”
This guy was off the deep end, and as afraid for her own life as Kat was, she was even more angry at him for killing her mother and acting like he’d done the world a favor in turn. “How many of these ‘dark souls’ have you seen?” As he talked, he loosened his hold on her. Kat wanted to keep him talking until she figured out a plan. She knew David had a service revolver that he carried with him, but she also knew he had a backup gun somewhere in the apartment…she just didn’t know where.
“The first one was my own sweet Lauren. We were married at eighteen and I thought she was the perfect woman. When she asked for the tattoo of Baron La Croix, I should have known. But I wa
s young and in love. I gave her the tattoo on her thigh and one day while Marta was performing a ritual at our place of worship, she saw it…and she was able to travel with the Baron inside of Lauren and see the darkness there.”
Freaking lunatic, Kat thought. “So what did you do…to Lauren?”
“I ended her suffering. It was a few years later that Marta directed me to the next one and a year later, the one after that…” Jesus fucking Christ…he’s a serial killer! Fuck! “Marta and I spent our lives in Louisiana, mostly in the Quarter. But when the detective started digging, I had a feeling I should watch him and make sure he didn’t stir up the darkness.”
“You think he did? You think it’s in me?”
“I know it is, and your darkness is attracted to the light in that young man, David. I have to save him, the way I did your father so many years ago…” He put his other hand on her throat. His hands were big and her neck was slim. Kat figured it would take him less than five minutes to crush her trachea. She had to move if she was going to have any kind of chance at all. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the pain as she pressed her body down into the mattress and rolled out of his grasp. When he reached for her, she brought her leg up as far as she could and kicked him on the chin. He cursed her in a foreign language—she thought it was French. She scrambled on her knees toward the door. She was almost there when she was grabbed from behind by her ponytail. He pulled her backwards, and Kat clawed at the floor. When he got her close enough, he wrapped his beefy arms around her middle and this time she couldn’t hold the cry back as he squeezed the spot right over her surgical incision. Channeling the pain as well as she could, Kat fought, kicking and clawing at his arms. When he threw her on the bed and pounced on top of her, she could see that she’d left deep scratches on his arms. At least this time, they’ll be able to identify him. He had both his hands around her throat again and he was using all his weight to hold her down. Kat knew as he began to squeeze that she had no chance of getting away. This was it, and the only thing she had to be thankful for before she died was that Dillon was going to live, and David didn’t still hate her. She couldn’t look at the man as he killed her, so she closed her eyes and thought about David and how much she loved him. As he squeezed harder, it was instinctive for her to reach up and grasp his wrists and try to fight…but he was too strong. She was going to…
