Casting Bones

by Don Bruns

  ‘So you’re Archer?’

  Levy nodded. ‘And you’re P.T.’

  ‘I am. Your partner is still outside.’

  ‘He is. You’re kind of trapped in here.’

  ‘Well, trapped is not the word I would use. I do have two hostages.’

  ‘You think you’re going to walk away?’

  ‘I’ve stayed one step ahead of NOPD, and until now—’

  ‘We were going to figure out who you were. FBI, right?’

  ‘Well …’ Trueblood smiled. ‘I’m a bit of a freelancer. Usually I fold right back in, but in this case, the money was a little too tempting.’

  ‘So you’ve got Garrett’s records?’

  ‘Hell, Detective Archer, I’ve got his money.’

  ‘And it’s not going back to the Feds, am I right?’

  ‘No, it’s already on its way to Belize, or wherever it is I keep funds like this.’

  ‘You don’t think they’re going to find you? For that kind of cash?’

  ‘Detective, they wanted this kickback scam stopped and they wanted evidence. I’ve got the evidence and I’ve stopped the scam. Took care of the problem. My fee may be a little exorbitant this time, but—’

  The side door rattled. Trueblood swung the gun up and toward the door as the front garage door started sliding up at the same time. As he spun around again, the side door opened and he heard a girl’s voice.

  ‘Drop the gun or I’ll shoot you, right now.’

  He turned and fired at nothing but an open door.

  ‘Drop it.’ A steely voice now came from the open garage door. ‘I’m Detective Quentin Archer and you’re under arrest.’

  The long slow sigh came from the floor where Detective Levy crouched. ‘’Bout time, bro.’

  Trueblood raised his hands and slowly turned.

  ‘Drop it.’

  ‘The real Detective Archer.’

  ‘One more time, drop the gun.’

  He shifted position, the gun now pointing directly at Levy.

  ‘I’ll pull the trigger even if you shoot me, Archer. I kill him, or you let me walk out of here. You’ve got Garrett, you’ve got the records that you need. It’s a win-win.’

  ‘I can’t let you go.’

  ‘I just made a little transaction with your friend Garrett. I can work with you on this. You’ve got what you want, now I can sweeten the pot. Money under the table, Detective. But I am going to walk out of here, with or without your blessing.’

  Archer considered the situation. It used to be called a Mexican standoff although he wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t put Levy at risk but he couldn’t let P.T. go.

  ‘You’re planning on leaving and that’s not about to happen.’

  ‘Detective, Garrett is probably bleeding to death,’ Trueblood said. ‘In another minute, I’ll shoot your partner right through his heart. Let me go or you will be responsible for two deaths.’

  ‘Judge Lerner was going to give you the printouts, right? The prisoner numbers and the dollars that were paid.’

  ‘He was, but the Krewe found out. They had him killed.’

  ‘Krewe Charbonerrie seems to have found out a lot. They were suspicious of Judge Richard Warren, Traci Hall and—’

  ‘One of your own, Detective. A cop named Sullivan? He was calling Garrett, filling him in on where the investigation was headed.’

  ‘Dan Sullivan?’ He didn’t like Sullivan, but would never have suspected him.

  ‘That was it. He called Garrett a short time ago and told him you and Levy were coming.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Kind of threw you under the bus, Detective. We were expecting you.’

  It wasn’t the first time.

  ‘Sullivan’s on the take?’

  ‘Not my take. I just heard about him for the first time. Another little bit of information that makes me more valuable. You see, I haven’t really committed a crime. I’ve exposed Garrett and company, I’ve obtained the records that the FBI wanted, and I’ve shown how far a rogue cop will go.’

  ‘And you’re threatening a police officer, and taking off with funds that are evidence in a Federal crime.’

  ‘Well, there is that.’

  ‘Drop the gun, Trueblood.’

  ‘No, Archer, I think I’ll shoot your friend.’

  The explosion was deafening in the confined space, and Archer felt the concussion from the firearm. Trueblood’s eyes opened wide, then he pitched forward, his face hitting the concrete floor.

  Q blinked, the gun still clutched tightly in his hand. He stared at the side door, seeing her silhouette standing just inside.

  ‘You’re a pretty good shot.’ His gun hand was trembling.

  ‘Matebo taught me how to hunt game.’

  Levy stood up, turning to the woman.

  ‘Young lady, you may have saved my life.’

  She couldn’t tell him. It had been Archer’s life she was concerned with.

  ‘Detective Levy, this is Solange Cordray. She’s been giving me advice on the murder investigation. I guess she came up here to check on me and see if I was following that advice.’

  They nodded to each other as sirens pierced the air. Three security cars screeched to a stop and armed prison officers stepped out of the vehicles, pistols drawn.

  ‘It’s all over guys,’ Archer said. ‘You’re a little late to the dance.’

  70

  The Werewolf, Loup-garou, and the contact Sam Campari were still on the loose, but Archer was pretty sure they’d show up eventually. When they were arrested, the people who killed Warren and Hall would be uncovered. Garrett, in what he thought may be a death-bed confession, had given up the names of the Werewolf and Campari. But Garrett was very much alive and, although crippled for life, had negotiated a reduced sentence in exchange for his testimony. The lieutenant governor, Sergeant Dan Sullivan, a Senator Marvin Shoemaker and others were all going down with him. The list was long.

  The man known as Paul Trueblood was given a one-million-dollar bond, and even though he could now afford it, the judge had somehow frozen any access to his assets. P.T.’s shoulder was damaged by the thirty-eight-caliber bullet, but he was expected to heal. The FBI refused to comment on the man or the subject.

  ‘Joseph Cordray, he had to have been a part of it too,’ Levy said.

  ‘Obviously, and the Feds are looking into it. I’m sure the whole Krewe is in disarray.’

  They sipped chicory coffee and watched the Quarter come alive from the front seat of Levy’s car.

  ‘They haven’t come out in half an hour.’ Levy pointed to the small cottage on Magazine Street. ‘Any chance there’s an exit we don’t know about?’

  ‘No,’ Archer said. ‘They’re in there.’

  The ‘they’ were two women who had beat up a homeless veteran for his pension check. He’d died during the night and now the women were wanted for murder.

  ‘And what about Sullivan? Everything we learned, he was leaking to Garrett.’

  ‘Don’t trust anyone, man,’ Archer said. ‘Adam Strand, too. Who knows who else is on the take.’

  ‘I’m not too sure about you, Q.’ Levy smiled. ‘And tell me more about this Solange Cordray.’

  Archer was quiet, obviously thinking about his response.

  ‘It’s pretty simple. You read the report. Mom was a voodoo practitioner, the girl is following in her footsteps.’

  ‘You believe in that shit, Q?’

  ‘Maybe. A little bit. I mean, she nailed it with Krewe Charbonerrie. There were a couple of other times that she …’

  ‘She what?’

  Archer shrugged his shoulders. ‘Let’s just say she surprised me.’

  ‘Yeah. But following you all the way to River Bend? What is she, your guardian angel?’

  Archer wondered about that too.

  ‘She’s passionate about what she believes.’

  ‘Yeah, so is she passionate about you? She’s pretty hot.’

  Archer shook his
head. ‘In different circumstances …’

  ‘You’d consider a fling?’

  Archer was quiet, and he sipped his beverage. Finally he spoke.

  ‘I’m still nursing a real Detroit hangover, Levy. I’ve got a ways to go.’

  Just then two women walked out of the front door, looking left and right.

  ‘That’s them. Let’s roll.’

  71

  The call came at 3 a.m. He figured it was Detroit. Another warning call. Another harassment.

  ‘Q, it’s Tom Lyons. We identified the license plate.’

  Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Archer concentrated on the call.

  ‘You there?’ Lyons asked.

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Car was stolen from a supermarket about a mile from the scene.’

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘No, Quentin. We were able to get the video from two parking lot cameras.’

  ‘Damn it, Lyons, finish this story or I’m coming back to Detroit and I’ll rip your tongue out.’

  ‘Bobby Mercer or a dead ringer looks right at camera number one. We don’t think there’s any doubt.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘We’re being careful, man. As I said, we’ve got families. But we’ve got a DA who has promised to look hard at the evidence and, if he’s convinced, we’ve got a case.’

  ‘Tom, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You’ve made my day. My night. My year.’

  ‘Got a ways to go, my friend. A ways to go.’

  ‘I’ll come back. If you need me.’

  ‘No! We don’t need you right now. Stay there and let us handle this. You come back and the whole thing explodes.’

  Archer closed his eyes. His heart was racing and he was sweating. They’d identified the killer.

  72

  The wire-haired bartender pushed the drink down to him.

  ‘Vieux Carré, Detective. Rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, cognac and bitters. First served at the Monteleone, a New Orleans original.’

  The bar was filling up, and Mike moved to the man sitting next to Archer.

  ‘Tell me, Ed, the best crawfish in Nawlins, am I not right?’

  The man looked up from the heaping pile of red-shelled crustaceans and grinned.

  She sat next to him, lightly touching his shoulder.

  ‘You do amaze me,’ Archer said.

  ‘It’s not my intention.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re here. I think I owe you my life.’

  She smiled. ‘I am so glad you are alive.’

  ‘Seriously, Solange’ – it was the first time he’d used her first name – ‘if it hadn’t been for you showing up—’

  ‘I know.’ She folded her hands in front of her, staring intently into his eyes. ‘Quentin’ – the first time she’d spoken his first name – ‘I know you have a hard time believing in this thing that I do. I respect that. And it’s not my intention to interfere in your private life.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I feel I have to tell you this. A feeling I have, something I can’t explain to you, all I can tell you is that she is well. Adjusted. You can yell at me, ask me to never see you again, but I am committed to telling you that. Nothing more. She is well. Adjusted.’

  Archer took a deep breath. Slow, long breaths. He believed her. Wanted to believe her. Decided in a moment to believe anything she told him.

  Tears sprang from his eyes, and he wiped at them with his hand.

  ‘I needed to know.’

  ‘Quentin, I am certain we will see each other in the future. If you need to contact me, you know where I am. At Ma’s and at the studio.’

  He tried to smile, but could only muster a confused look.

  ‘When you’ve absorbed this all, when you are more comfortable with the situation, I hope we will talk.’

  She stood and walked away.

  73

  They sat on the levee, the old man in a webbed lawn chair and the old woman in her wheelchair, staring out at the brown swirling water. She’d given him a faint smile when she first saw him, but now her eyes were glassy, seeing everything in front of her, seeing nothing.

  ‘Clotille, your daughter is beautiful. She’s smart, got personality; she’s going to amount to something.’

  A log washed by, and there were two men fishing on the far side, hoping to catch whatever the river had to offer.

  ‘Are you comfortable? Do you need a shawl?’

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘Clotille, about Solange, is there any chance that she is my daughter? I’d like to know.’

  No response.

  ‘Well, I treat her well, old woman. She is a joy.’

  The lady nodded. Very subtly but she nodded.

  It meant the world to Matebo. He felt it was a definite sign.

  74

  The phone rang in the middle of the night. Archer answered and there was silence on the other end. Archer hung up. It wasn’t going to stop any time soon. He thought about Denise, her soft voice and healing manner, and drifted back to sleep, knowing that the killer had been identified. It was only a matter of time that he would be arrested, charged and convicted. That in itself would not bring back his wife, but it would satisfy some of his concerns.

  She knelt on the floor, naked, the cloth spread in front of her. Two flickering candles threw shadows on the wall as she studied the bones. A chill went through her slender body, and she felt the presence of a spirit.

  Tossing the smooth, worn objects, she closed her eyes. When she opened them Solange studied the display. The elements were against her. And against the detective. It seemed like he was in for a long spell of evil. She’d have to stay close and try to ward off the wicked signs.