“I do not know. The documentation is limited to a single manuscript from the early Susu.”
“How would someone go about getting a mask like this?”
“It is highly unlikely that they could. In fact, the last one I tracked sold at auction thirty-four years ago for over a hundred thousand. You see, they are carved out of soft wood, so naturally if not preserved properly they will succumb to time and the elements.”
“Thank you for your help.” Royce reached out, taking the two-bit mask and the sketch the professor handed back to him. He put the mask into the paper evidence bag and slipped the sketch into the envelope. He didn’t know a single thug who had that kind of money who’d be willing to drop it on a wooden mask so he could wear it in the commission of a crime. He glanced over at Adelaide, who was focused on the professor.
“There’s another artifact, Professor Bessette. If you wouldn’t mind taking a look at it.” Adelaide squeezed her gris-gris doll in her hand and reached out across the desk. “This belongs to me, but I don’t know much about it. Maybe you can take a look.” She opened her fingers, exposing the doll in her palm.
“Yes, well, it looks like a traditional gris-gris, used as a voodoo blessing. They are commonplace within many of the local sects. That, too, could be obtained at a local shop in the Quarter.”
The professor’s dismissive tone cut deep. She pulled the doll back. “Wouldn’t you like to examine it?”
“Certainly, and you are welcome to leave it here with me if you like. Perhaps next week I could take a moment for a closer look. You could return for it then.”
She closed her fingers around the doll, and instantly felt better. “No, thanks. I’ll just keep it. I know enough about it to be satisfied.”
“Have I offended you, Adelaide?”
“I just thought it was more unique than that.”
“Perhaps it is. Please leave it with me. I promise I will give it a thorough vetting.”
“That’s okay. I think I’ll hang on to it.”
“Very well.” The professor dipped his chin and stared at her over the rim of his glasses. “I hope I have been helpful to you both, but I really must leave, I have a lunch engagement in an hour. I will walk you out.”
Royce stood up and grasped Adelaide’s elbow as she rose out of her seat. He knew her feelings were raw, roughed up by the professor’s dismissal of her gris-gris as commonplace, when he himself knew otherwise. To Adelaide it was priceless. More than cloth and old thread, it was her only link to her birth mother.
They left the office and headed down the stairs, with the professor right behind them. They stopped at the reception desk.
“If you wish to reconsider leaving the gris-gris just give me a call and drop it by.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Royce shook his hand again. “But she’s rather attached to it.”
The professor nodded and turned to Adelaide. “So nice to see you again, dear.”
“You, too.”
Royce guided her to the front door. He pulled it open and they stepped out onto the landing. He closed it behind them and took a moment to survey the street before moving them down the steps.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave the doll with him.”
“Me, too, but frankly I don’t believe I could have, especially in light of what Miss Marie said.”
Royce pulled the car keys from his pocket and popped the door locks, then the trunk lid. “It’s irreplaceable. That’s reason enough to hang on to it, and besides, it’s infused with white magic.”
She gave him a weak smile and climbed into the passenger seat. He went around to the rear of the car and leaned in, about to put the envelope and evidence bag inside.
A streak of silver materialized in his peripheral vision on the left.
The roar of an over-revved car engine cut the air and pulled his head around. In slow motion he watched the silver car that followed them from the station race straight for him.
He dove for the curb and hit the sidewalk on his belly, dropping the items still in his hands. The air was forced from his lungs and he fought to pull it back in, just as the car slammed into the rear of his sedan.
Shattering glass rained down on him. “Adelaide.”
He rolled over, sat up and pulled his weapon.
The driver put the car in Reverse and gunned it backward.
Releasing the safety, Royce squeezed off two rounds into the car’s radiator, hoping like crazy he could stop the vehicle before the man in the ball cap and sunglasses took aim at them again.
He scrambled to his feet just as Adelaide scrambled out of the passenger seat onto the sidewalk.
The driver popped the car into Drive and shot forward.
Royce grabbed Adelaide from where she stood transfixed, watching the horror unfold, and hurried her toward the safety of the anthropology building.
Professor Bessette rushed down the front steps toward them.
“We have called the police,” he said, his dark eyes going wide behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Adelaide?” He studied her as he came toward them, and flinched as the car sideswiped the sedan with a loud crunch, and the subsequent nails-on-the-chalkboard scrape down the entire length of the vehicle.
The silver car roared away, dragging the bumper with it as it barreled down the street, took a left onto Audubon and disappeared.
Royce slowed their progress across the tiny yard and stopped next to Professor Bessette.
“It looks like a terrible hit-and-run. It is not the first time this has happened on this narrow street.” The professor studied them over the rim of his glasses. “Come inside. The police are on their way. I had my secretary phone 911 the instant he ran into your car the first time.”
“We appreciate that.”
Adelaide sobered, letting the nerve-racking seconds that had preceded this moment catch up with her traumatized thought processes.
One second Royce had been stowing the Songe mask in the trunk, and the next he was diving for the sidewalk. He’d just come close to being killed, and that knowledge sparked real fear deep down inside her. It stayed there, wrapping around her bones as he released her and darted back to the sidewalk to pick up the bag with the Songe mask inside, and the envelope containing the sketch. He put them in the backseat of the car and turned around.
She watched him walk toward her, seeing the confidence in his stride, shoulders back, head up, while she had to work just to still her wobbly knees.
There was something about him that spoke to her senses on a gut level she couldn’t quite grasp, and looking at him always churned up an insatiable need inside her. She glanced away, feeling the sting of heat ignite on her cheeks in hot little patches.
“I have got to leave.” The professor touched her arm. “You will be okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” She watched him walk up the steps and go back inside the building before she refocused on Royce.
“That maniac almost killed you.”
“It’ll take more than that to do the job. He followed us from the station and waited for us to come out. I fired two slugs into the radiator of his car. He won’t get far.” Royce opened his arms to her.
The sound of sirens in the distance filled the air, and she gladly stepped into the circle of his embrace. It was a sound they’d heard too often together.
She closed her eyes and tried to reconcile her scattered emotions with the man holding her. It all added up. He added up.
Royce smoothed his hand across Adelaide’s head, feeling the silky texture of her hair under his palm. She shivered, and he pressed her tighter into his chest, staring over her head as a black Mercedes with the professor behind the wheel pulled through the driveway from the parking lot behind the building. Its clattering motor reminded him of a truck on the freeway. You didn’t see many diesels around. He watched it pull out into the street and drive away, leaving a trail of dark smoke hanging in the humidity well after it was out of sight.
He suck
ed in a couple of breaths, remembering how much he liked the smell of burning diesel.
The information the professor had given them about the masks had only given him cause for worry. Not only were there thugs hiding behind them, but he wondered if they believed in the black magic surrounding them. There was nothing worse than superstition to erode common sense.
This case had it in spades. It was unpredictable and elusive. It was like squeezing jelly. It added an entire dimension that couldn’t be controlled.
A black-and-white squad car rolled up on scene with its lights flashing.
Royce released Adelaide and prepared to give a statement to the officer and get them a ride back to the station after a tow truck hauled away the damaged car. But one unanswered question burned in the back of his mind.
How was it the thugs always seemed to know where to find them, even after he’d given them the slip?
ADELAIDE SPOONED ANOTHER BITE of fried rice into her mouth from out of the Chinese take-out container and looked across the desk at Royce, who nimbly raised chopsticks to his mouth loaded with noodles.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?”
He grinned and ladled them in, sucking the tail of the last one through his lips. “Comes with the territory. Good food, bad hours, a mediocre life.”
“You don’t mean that last part, do you?”
A far-away look stole the humor from his summation, and he blinked a couple of times before digging in again. “Would it be significant to you if I did?”
“Yes, as a matter fact it would.”
“Why? Give me one single reason to hope for something more than just so-so.”
She could feel her cheeks warm. She’d managed to jump off the philosophical diving board smack into the deep end of the private pool. “How about finding love…and having a family?”
He chewed his next bite as he studied her, his dark-eyed gaze exploring her face. It was a tactic that left her breathless, and tiny jolts of nervous energy pulsed along her spine. Still, she wanted him to answer the question in the worst sort of way.
“Hmm. I get it. This is really about babies. Babies and a woman’s ever-ticking biological clock, the one that makes Big Ben look like a cheap timepiece.”
She wanted to wipe the smirk off his handsome face with her lips, but she smiled at him instead and spooned up another bite of rice. “Seriously.” She ate it, watching him watch her.
“Okay. I’ll humor you. How about this. Being alone is slow hell.”
She didn’t disagree. “It is. Watching your life pass you by with no one to share in its ups and downs could be considered hell by some. So yeah.”
Royce set his food container on the desk and rocked forward, feeling uncomfortable with the subject being batted back and forth between them. It hit too close to home for him. Too close to the things he wanted in his mediocre life. A wife, a home and babies, lots of babies.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. We’re going to have to catch a ride with a black-and-white unit. I have a trick to make sure we’re not followed to the safe house tonight.”
He was glad when she nodded, dropped her plastic spoon into the empty take-out box and put it in the trash next to his desk. He tossed his carton, too, and escorted her to the elevator, feeling tension in the air between them as it pressed down on him, making him wish he was better at the sappy stuff.
The doors slid open and he came face-to-face with Patrolman Stevens. “Detective Beckett.”
“Stevens. What’s up?”
“It’s Officer Tansy.”
The doors started to close. Royce put his hand out and stopped them, waiting until Adelaide had stepped across the threshold, then followed her in, watching the doors close. “Did he come out of the coma?”
“He died half an hour ago. The call just came in.”
Royce reached out and grasped the railing, feeling the elevator sink along with his stomach. Another casualty of the low-life thugs wreaking havoc every chance they got as of late. “I’m sorry to hear that. Does he have a family?”
“Yeah, a wife and a couple of kids.”
Adelaide reached out and put her hand on his arm, sending a jolt of heat into his body where the contact was made.
“If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“Just get the bastard who did it.” Stevens straightened, blinking hard to conceal his emotions.
The elevator stopped on the ground floor, the doors opened and the patrolman stepped out, waiting for them to follow him.
“The patrol lieutenant said you need some sort of decoy to get to the safe house?”
“Yeah. We’ve been followed repeatedly. I need an officer to drive my car over and put it in the garage at shack 99, while Miss Charboneau and I go incognito in the backseat of a squad car, at least until we’re away from the station.”
“I think we can handle that. Let me get another officer.” Stevens disappeared into the patrol division and materialized five minutes later with two more cops in tow.
“This is Montgomery Howard and Chance Jurkowski.”
“Officers.” Royce nodded and shook the men’s hands, but he didn’t like the way Montgomery Howard gave Adelaide a once-over and flashed her a broad smile. He had a reputation as the department’s Casanova and it was showing right now.
“And you’re Adelaide Charboneau, our illustrious sketch artist.” He reached out and took her hand.
Irritation fired off in Royce’s veins, but he extinguished it. He should be used to the reaction she stirred up in men’s blood. Hell, he’d experienced its volatile effect more than once himself.
Adelaide watched Royce’s shoulders pull back and his chin come up. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but it’s nice to know my work is beneficial in helping you catch criminals.” Pulling her hand back, she smiled up at the officer who stood much too close.
She stepped back and felt the reassuring grasp of Royce’s hand on her elbow.
“Its been a trying day. I’d like to get Miss Charboneau to the safe house ASAP.”
Officer Howard nodded. “We’ll take your car. The place out in Metairie, shack 99?”
“Yeah.” Royce fished in his pants pocket and pulled out the keys to his personal vehicle. He would have to wait until tomorrow to pull another fleet car, something that already had Chief Danbury tied in knots.
“The garage door opener is on the visor.”
Officer Howard took the keys and left the station along with Officer Jurkowski, headed for the parking lot.
“We’re all set. I’m in unit fifteen at the back of the lot. I’ll see you in five after I grab a cup of coffee.” Stevens handed Royce the keys and headed for the break room.
Royce steered Adelaide to the rear door of the station and glanced out into the half-empty lot. “Stay low and follow my lead.”
“Okay.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the thick night air. Notes of a jazz tune floated over from some nearby street. Hunching over, he took Adelaide’s hand and pulled her along behind him as he slipped in next to a squad car.
Aiming his sights on car fifteen from the cover of the vehicle, he shuffled forward and darted in between the car’s driver-side door and a barrier fence covered with ivy.
Sliding the key into the lock, he opened the door and hit the auto lock button, then closed it quietly and maneuvered to the back door.
He opened it and watched Adelaide crawl inside and slide all the way over against the other side, careful to keep her head low. He followed her in and slouched in the seat.
“Do you have to do this sort of thing all the time?” she whispered in the darkness, which was riddled with light coming from tall fixtures spread around the perimeter of the parking lot.
“No. But if it proves my theory, and keeps you safe at the same time, I’d belly crawl across Lake Pontchartrain.”
The sound of whistling stopped the instant Officer Steve
ns opened the car door and climbed inside.
Royce dropped the keys over the front seat.
Stevens fired up the engine and pulled out of the lot.
The sound of the police radio startled Adelaide, and she adjusted her uncomfortable position in the seat. “Unit fifteen, unit forty-two, go car-to-car transmission.”
Stevens picked up the radio mic. “Unit forty-two, go ahead.”
“Beckett was right, we’ve got a boogie on our tail, and we’re en route to Metairie shack 99. We’ll drive him around, show him the city and leave him in Metairie. You can pick us up at the corner convenience store.”
“Copy that, unit forty-two. Have fun.” He put the mic in its holder. “Did you catch that, Beckett?”
“Yeah. It’s all clear, Adelaide.” Royce pushed himself up in the seat and watched her do the same. “Toulouse Street?”
“Yes. We’ll walk over to the station in the a.m.”
Adelaide was confused, but she kept it to herself, watching their progression down Royal Street to the corner of Toulouse, where Officer Stevens made a left-hand turn, drove a half block and stopped the car next to the curb. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Royce opened the car door and helped her out of the patrol unit.
“What are we doing here? We never even left the French Quarter.”
“It’s safer that way. Come on.” He led her into the alley and up a flight of fire-escape stairs that ended at a narrow door. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a single key and pushed it into the lock.
“What is this place?”
“A department safe house.”
“But I thought the safe house was shack 99.”
He pushed open the door, reached around the corner and flipped on the inside light, then pulled up the stairs, leaving them stranded on the landing thirty feet above the ground.
“Shack 99 is my place. I just hope it’s still standing in the morning when the thugs figure out they’ve been duped.”
Chapter Eleven
Keeping Watch Page 13
