The Devil Always Collects

by John Moore

  Detective Demetre Baker called to ask if I could stop by his office later. “Sure I can, Detective Baker, I’ll be in your area later today anyway,” I said.

  I made an appointment with Mr. Swartz, my attorney, to check on the status of Sarah’s succession. Finishing the succession would give me the money I needed to save my family’s farm. I wanted to save the farm more than ever now. Being in Colombia and hearing Sophia’s brother, Juan Garcia, tell stories of families losing property they’d farmed for generations to chemical pollution touched my heart. I appreciated how their connection to their land made up much of the fabric of their lives. Losing their land was like losing their history and their identity with it. Hearing those tragic stories committed me to saving my farm. I wanted to preserve the land my family farmed. I wanted it to be my land in my name. I wanted to pass it down to my children some day.

  I left my place and headed to see Mr. Swartz. He had accomplished a great deal in my absence. He had followed up with the life insurance company to get the insurance proceeds paid into Sarah’s estate. They weren’t my funds yet. I was still blocked by the ACC’s lawsuit. Even though they had lost their attempt to obtain a restraining order to stop me from retrieving the contents of Sarah’s safety deposit box, they still had their damage claim against the estate. Mr. Miller told me he and ACC’s attorneys had a status conference scheduled in two days to discuss the next steps.

  “My opinion is that ACC will back down and go away now,” Mr. Miller said. “They are treading on thin ice now. They have no damages. Their damages would result from the disclosure of their illegal acts if they had any damages at all. No court is going to give them damages for those disclosures. Granting ACC damages for disclosure of criminal acts would make the judge a party to obstruction of justice. No court is going to do that. I think we can wrap this succession up by the end of the week.”

  “Mr. Miller, that’s great news,” I said. “Do you need me to be at the status conference?”

  “No, not at all. I’ll call and update you after the conference,” he said.

  I left Mr. Miller’s office brightened by the news that Sarah’s succession would soon be complete. Why would ACC want to go forward? Their whole point in bringing their lawsuit in the first place was to stop me from finding Sarah’s evidence against them. Whatever was recorded on that VCR tape was what Rogan wanted hidden. Where was that damn tape anyway? Rogan didn’t have it or El Alacran wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to get it from me. Maybe Detective Baker found it. I’d know in a few minutes because I was pulling into to police station parking lot at that very moment.

  “Alexandra, I am so happy to see you,” Baker said to me as I entered his office. “Your blog has made you somewhat of a celebrity around here.”

  “What?” I said

  “Your blog is alive with information about serial killers all over the United States. Police in every jurisdiction are reading the blog and compiling new leads. Here in New Orleans we are getting information about the Quarter Killer. Residents of the French Quarter have formed a neighborhood serial killer watch group and are patrolling the streets in shifts. If he kills again, we’ll catch him. He’ll be spotted for sure.”

  “Really. I had no idea,” I said.

  He motioned me around to his side of his desk. My blog was on his monitor. It was brimming with comments. Just like he said, bloggers posted comments about serial killers around the U.S. There were even some from other countries. I was proud. More importantly to me at the moment were the comments about ACC. I focused in on two particular posts. They were from two of the five families whose properties were test subjects for Rogan’s mix of chemicals. They also had cancer deaths in their families. They had not settled with ACC. Their lawyers wanted me meet with them in Indiana.

  I needed to go to Indiana anyway so their requests were welcome news. But I couldn’t leave until everything was cleared in Sarah’s succession. Tom was due to arrive in New Orleans tomorrow. No way was I going anywhere till after we were reunited. Then there was poor Sophia. I wanted to visit her in the hospital, though I dreaded what I might see. The thought of her lying in a coma close to death devastated me. She was so brave. And poor Juan, who had saved my life. He didn’t deserve to lose his big sister. I would have to put the Indiana lawyers off for a couple of days.

  “I’ve been in contacted with Juan Garcia,” Detective Baker said. “I understand you’ve had quite an adventure in Colombia.”

  “I’m not sure adventure is the right word for it,” I said. “I know now that Sarah was killed to stop her from revealing what she knew about Bart Rogan.”

  “Yes, you are right,” Baker said. “Nothing would suit me more than to arrest that asshole and throw him in central lockup here in New Orleans. We have a problem. We can’t tie Rogan to Sarah’s murder without Gonzales’ testimony. That’s impossible. Sarah was killed by Jesus Gonzales, a.k.a. El Serpiente. Inspector Garcia shot and killed him. Without that testimony, there is no evidence connecting Rogan to the murder. We also know that Gonzales convinced Gary Bennett that Mark Stevens was the man who murdered Bennett’s daughter. Bennett shot Stevens thinking he was avenging his daughter’s death. Rogan was behind that, too. But both Gonzales and Bennett are dead. Bennett’s confession to you isn’t enough to arrest Rogan. It looks like Rogan’s slipped through our fingers. At least for now.”

  “My business with Bart Rogan isn’t finished yet,” I said.

  My cell phone rang. It was Susan McAllister from the battered women’s center. “Our building has been sold and we have to move,” she said.

  “Oh no,” I said. “Who bought it?”

  “The owner apologized for selling it out from under us but he got an offer for twice what it was worth from a company called B.A.R., LLC.”

  Chapter Thirty:

  Small Victory

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you sure that the buyer’s name is B.A.R?” I asked.

  “Yes and the deal has already closed. B.A.R. is the owner,” Susan said. “We only have a month-to-month lease. They’ve given us six weeks to vacate the premises. Alexandra, I don’t know what we are going to do.”

  “Don’t worry, Susan. We’ll figure something out,” I said.

  What the hell was I going to figure out? This news was devastating.

  After we ended the call, I thought what a bastard Rogan was. He’d found a new way to torture me. He’d discovered that I cared deeply for the work the center did for those poor women and wanted to use it as leverage against me. I knew what he really wanted. He wanted to make a deal to get the VCR tape from me. Even if I did have it, I’d never give it to that son of a bitch.

  My thoughts turned to poor Sarah. Rogan must have put similar pressure on her to make her kill the pollution stories. Plus, she was married to Mark Stevens. Rogan was threatening Mark’s career. The pressure must have been unbearable. I viewed Sarah’s decision to compromise in a different light now. She caved in to the powerful forces mobilized against her. She had no way of knowing she would make things worse by compromising her values. Once she realized the full magnitude of her decision to surrender, she was trapped with consequences she couldn’t live with. No wonder she decided to redeem herself and go after Rogan.

  “Detective Baker, did you ever find Sarah’s VCR tape?”

  “No,” he said. “The crime scene at your condo was unsecured when I arrived after Inspector Garcia’s stabbing. EMS, police officers, and maybe even the general public were traipsing though the scene like it was City Park. Anyone of those people could have taken the tape. Maybe it was discarded and ended up in the landfill. I have no idea where it is. What I do know is that we searched your condo high and low. It wasn’t there.”

  My cell phone rang. Charlotte was on the phone. She and Mandy wanted me to go to Pat O’Briens with them for drinks tonight to welcome me home. It was such a nice gesture, but going out drinking seemed
so insignificant in light of my recent experiences. I still had work to do to stop Rogan. The last thing on my mind was small talk and partying. I politely declined and turned back to Detective Baker.

  My cell phone rang yet one more time. I thought it was Mandy calling to work on me. Exasperated, I said, “What, what now?”

  There was a short moment of silence. Then I looked at my caller I.D. It was Tom. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said. “I took an earlier flight home. I’m at the New Orleans airport. Can you give me a ride?”

  I almost peed my pants. “Tom! I’ll give you a ride you won’t forget,” I said shocking myself and Detective Baker. “I’ve got to go now, Detective,” I said with a face the color of Santa’s coat.

  Baker smiled from ear to ear and waved goodbye to me. I shot from the precinct, hopped in my car, and hauled ass to the airport. Tom was standing outside the baggage claim area. He waved me down. So unnecessary because I saw his gorgeous face 20 car lengths away. I pulled up next to him and bailed from my car. I ran to him and, oh what a kiss we gave each other! A group of students gathered around us and clapped as we kissed. That was our signal to go to my place.

  Tom was shocked to hear the details of my experiences in Colombia. He wanted to get his hands around both Bart Rogan’s and El Alacran’s necks. So did I. Tom was confined to the hospital most of the time during his time in Colombia after the Coast Guard took him away. His wound was deep but healed without any permanent disability. He couldn’t wait to show me his scar. I couldn’t wait to get his pants off to see it.

  At my condo, we wasted no time reconnecting with each other in the way lovers do. In some ways, it was like we were never apart. Our chemistry was completely intact. So was our timing. But my heart jack hammered when I first held him naked in my arms, thinking of how close we had come to losing each other. Each touch and kiss was miraculous. I had thought Tom loving me was the most amazing thing that could happen to me, but now I knew that what was amazing was how we held onto each other, knowing what hostages we were giving to fortune. How does anyone dare?

  Just like this. Day by day. “If they’d killed you I would have cut their hearts out,” I whispered.

  “If they’d killed you, I would have cut their hearts out and eaten them,” he said.

  Our near-simultaneous orgasms brought me to tears and I entered oblivion with him, completely exhausted from the emotion.

  Once we regained consciousness –and snuggled a bit –I felt much more relaxed.

  The doctors wouldn’t release Tom to go back to work for another two weeks. He said he would go crazy if he had to sit around for that long.

  “Why don’t you come with me to Indiana?” I asked. I’ve been contacted by two of the four remaining families on whose property Rogan sprayed his experimental pesticide. They haven’t settled their lawsuit against ACC yet.”

  “Hell, yeah, I want to go,” Tom said.

  “Great, let’s get some sleep and make contact with their lawyers tomorrow morning,” I said.

  Tom didn’t even bother to answer me. He grabbed my hand and led me to the bed. Eventually, we did go to sleep after another get-acquainted session. It felt so wonderful being back in his arms. Especially since I thought I’d lost him forever. I could finally relax knowing he was safe. Our bond seemed too solid for anyone to break. It was like a force was protecting us from the evils that Rogan and his cohorts were throwing at us.

  We slept late the next morning. I made coffee, and Tom stayed in bed. The trip from Colombia had tired him more than he originally thought. Or maybe it was me who wore him out. I opened my computer to my blog. It was on fire. ACC and Bart Rogan’s name were maligned in comment after comment. Still no evidence of criminal activity. It seemed exposing them as nuisances was easy. Building a convincing case against them was proving to be more difficult. Still it felt like the noose was tightening around their necks. If they felt it, I’d hear from them soon.

  At 10:30 AM I received a call from Mr. Swartz about the status conference with ACC’s lawyer and the judge. He reported the judge told ACC that they didn’t have a case in his eyes. Furthermore, if they insisted on going forward, he was going to hammer them with sanctions unless they had much, much more evidence to show the court.

  “ACC could read the tea leaves,” Mr. Swartz said. “Their lawyers called ACC’s corporate office and got the authority to dismiss their claim. I will walk the final succession papers through today. You will be put in possession of all of the property in the succession this afternoon.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Swartz,” I said. “Do you mean I’ll get the life insurance money too?”

  “Yes, after taxes, costs, and fees you will receive over $150,000.00 cash.”

  Holy shit, I thought. I’ll be able to save my family’s farm. I rushed in the bedroom and jumped up and down on the bed. I was screaming, “We won, we won.” Tom looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Won what?” he asked.

  “ACC has dropped their lawsuit against Sarah’s succession. That means I will inherit everything she left to me. I’ll be able to save my family farm. I’ve beaten Rogan for the second time. What’s more, I have the house I’ve dreamed of all my life. Sarah’s house on St. Charles Avenue is now mine,” I said.

  “Fantastic! I’ll bet ACC was feeling the heat from your blog too,” Tom said. “We need to be more careful now than ever. Remember the last time you beat Rogan, he sent The Serpent after you to kill you and Sophia.”

  I grabbed Tom and gave him a huge bear hug and said, “True, but I’m ready for anything. Bring it, baby. I feel he’s on the run now. There is some reason ACC dropped their suit. They may be pulling away from Rogan. If they really are reading my blog, the response from people all over the world has to be worrying them. Let’s get everything straight tomorrow in the succession. We can transfer some money from the life insurance proceeds into my checking account. Then we can book our flights to Indiana and save the farm.”

  I contacted the two families’ lawyers to make arrangements to meet with them while Tom and I were in Indiana. They were more than happy to accommodate our schedules. It seemed that ACC had softened their hard line in the families’ lawsuit against ACC too. Something was going on. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I liked it. We would certainly learn more when we met with the lawyers in Indiana.

  I left Tom at my condo while I visited Sophia at Tulane Medical Center. Even though we had not known each other long, I felt a close bond with her. She seemed more like a sister to me than a law enforcement officer with whom I had a casual relationship. And she did save my life. I walked into her room not knowing what to expect. Juan was seated beside her bed. As I entered, our eyes met. His face lit up with one of the brightest smiles I’d ever seen. My eyes cut to Sophia. She was awake and looking at me. She smiled as much as her face would allow.

  “Come in, Alexandra. Come in and talk to my beautiful sister,” Juan said.

  Emotion overcame me and I began to cry and smile at the same time. “Oh, Sophia, you don’t know how wonderful it is to see you,” I said. “We have all been so worried about you.”

  In a weak voice Sophia said, “Alexandra, sit and talk to me for a while.”

  Juan put his hand on his sister’s arm and said, “She came out of her coma late last night. Since then she has been sleeping off and on. When she’s awake all she wants to do is talk, just like when we were kids in Colombia. She is remembering events a little at a time. Slowly her memory is coming back but there are gaps. I’ve told her everything that happened to you and Tom in Colombia. She thinks you are very lucky to have survived your encounter with El Alacran.”

  “When we were children, I remember speaking for you when someone asked you a question,” Sophia whispered. “Now you are speaking for me,” Sophia said, looking at Juan with a smile. “Alexandra, I hope one day you see a better side of our beautiful country. Our people are wa
rm and loving. These troubles with our narco-terrorists are slowly improving. But, like here in the United States, drugs are a scourge on our people’s lives.”

  “Maybe we can go to Colombia together, Sophia,” I said. “The van they transported me to El Alacran’s camp near Bogota didn’t have windows in the back, where Camila and I were sitting. It was dark when they arrived at the camp. So, I didn’t get to see any of the countryside.”

  Sophia’s face saddened, and she said, “Juan told me about the young girl murdered by El Alacran. Her father should have never made any deals with cartels. Once you do, it never ends well. What did he want from you?”

  I looked at Juan and said, “You didn’t tell her what he said to me?”

  “No, I didn’t want to upset her any more than necessary,” Juan said.

  I turned to Sophia and said, “They wanted that VCR tape you put in your purse at court the day the judge dismissed ACC’s Temporary Restraining Order. Jess had a VHS tape player and was bringing it to my condo. We were all three going to watch it together. After you shot El Serpiente, it vanished. I don’t know what is on that tape, but Rogan wants it and is willing to kill to get it.”

  “I remember putting it in my purse. It wasn’t there at the crime scene at your condo?” Sophia asked

  “No, Detective Baker’s officers searched the entire condo and couldn’t find it. He thinks maybe a policeman or EMS personnel took it. We thought Rogan may have paid someone to steal it but Rogan doesn’t have it,” I said.