by Robin Caroll
“No, do they need help on a case?” The two guys his partner had mentioned were newer homicide detectives, still learning some of the ins and outs of working a murder case.
Marcel grinned. “They got a double homicide this morning that seems…well, possibly connected to our case. Captain Istre advised them to speak with us.”
“What?” That made no sense at all. “Did Captain forget our victim was most likely murdered back in 1938 or 1958?” He took a sip of coffee. “By the way, did we send Addy the missing persons reports from those years to cross-reference with any guests that were at the Darkwater Inn during that time?”
Marcel nodded. “I had them sent over yesterday and Addy’s assistant, Vicky, said they’d get right on them. I sent 1938, 1958, and 1959, just to make sure we covered all possibilities.”
“Good.” Beau took another drink of his coffee. “Now, what about Kenny and Gene’s case?”
“According to Kenny’s report, they were called to a residence in Tremé area this morning for a double homicide. A couple in their late fifties—Joey and Theresa Maggio, were found dead in bed by their son. He had come to the house to take his mother to a doctor’s appointment.” Marcel stretched his legs out and crossed his arms over his chest. “The couple was killed with blows to the head from an axe, and the bloody axe was left on the floor by the bed.” He grinned. “Sound similar?”
No way! “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Marcel shook his head. “I wish. Captain sent Gene and Kenny to talk with us.” He stood and moved to his desk across from Beau’s. “I guess we’ll be overseeing the case.”
“Not our case.” But the similarities…no way could it be the same killer. A copycat. Beau shook his head. That blasted reporter and her exclusive. “Did you get any leads on our leak to Allison Williams?”
“I’ve got a couple in the secretary pool who said the reporter’s called and asked for comments or information, but nothing on someone actually giving her anything.”
She had to be getting inside information from somebody. “No way would a copycat have killed anyone with our case’s same MO without that woman’s report.” Something else occurred to him in a flash. Beau snapped his fingers. “The attack on Addy in the park and on her father at his house!”
“What?”
“Both incidents happened after the report about the skeleton. We’d suspected that they were likely connected, and I think they’re connected to our case.”
Marcel sank back in his chair. “Man. Talk it out with me.”
Beau nodded, his mind working to track it all. “Okay, the report comes in about the skeleton. We go and start the case. Walt’s office calls in FACES.” He grabbed a pen from his desk and tapped it as his mind worked out the timeline while he spoke. “The next morning, Vincent goes to the hotel with Addy because he caught on the connection between our skeleton and the Axeman attacks, although it looks like the timeline for that connection doesn’t match.”
“Right. The Axeman attacked in 1918 and 1919, and our skeleton was most likely killed and put in place in the hotel in 1938 or 1958.”
Beau jotted on a scratch piece of paper. “But we didn’t know that at the time Vincent went with Addy to the hotel.”
“I follow you.” Marcel took a drink of his coffee.
“And that reporter showed up that same time and publicized Vincent as R.C. Steele as well as being Addy’s father. Then the reporter mentioned the skeleton and the Axeman in her interview. In that same interview, Vincent said he had research on the Axeman and stuff in a cabinet at his home.” Beau wrote faster as his thoughts raced. “Then later that night, Addy gets blood thrown at her. Last night, a day later, Vincent gets knocked out and his house burned down with him in it.”
Marcel made a clucking noise. “You think someone burned down his house to destroy the Axeman research he mentioned?”
“Do you have a better working theory?”
Marcel shook his head. “No. Sure seems like someone doesn’t want anything about the Axeman to be brought back into the public eye. Why?”
Wasn’t that the question? “Maybe a descendant of the Axeman doesn’t want it to come out and their connection to the serial killer?”
“Could be, but since the Axeman was never caught, would be pretty hard to prove a family connection.”
“True.” Beau stared at his notes. Nothing made sense, but the answer had to be here somewhere. They just hadn’t made the connection yet. “Maybe if we get more info from Kenny and Gene it’ll give us a little more insight.”
Before Marcel could reply, his email notification sounded. He clicked, then grunted.
“What?” Beau set his coffee off to the side.
“It’s from Nolan. He says they’ve completed the DNA profile from the axe found at our scene. He’s sent it to the FBI to run through CODIS and NDIS.”
Beau nodded. The National DNA Index System, and the system for analyzing and communicating data, Combined DNA Index System, were both administered by the FBI. “Any idea how long it’ll take to get a response from the feds?” Beau wasn’t too keen on having the FBI involved in any aspect of his case. His experience with them hadn’t been exactly positive.
“Nolan didn’t say, but he’ll follow up with the FBI.”
“I’m not real hopeful, considering how long ago our victim was murdered, but it’s worth a try. Does Nolan say anything about the palm print?”
Marcel shook his head. “But that would be a long, long shot, man. Palm prints only started getting recorded in the systems in the early 2000s, so I’m doubting we’ll have any match for our case’s timeline.”
Beau tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair. Every time he thought they had a lead, the timeline didn’t match or the evidence wouldn’t be supported. Dead ends. He was truly stumped on this case, which didn’t happen very often. Then again, most of his victims were murdered recently and not eighty or so years ago.
What were they missing?
“Nolan says the prints they pulled from the glass shards weren’t clear enough so they can’t run them in the database.”
Another dead end. Beau dropped the paper coffee cup into the trash, still about a fourth full. He needed to do something…they needed a break in the case. “I think I’ll head over to the Darkwater Inn and see if they’ve made any connection between the missing persons reported and guests of the hotel.”
Marcel nodded. “I think I’ll go check in with Gene and Kenny, just to see if there’s anything that might give us a lead.”
“Good deal. Call me if you find anything and I’ll do the same.” Beau stood, then unlocked his drawer and placed his gun in his holster. He didn’t really want to talk with Dimitri, but he was getting desperate for a new direction in the case.
He’d talk to the devil himself if that’s what it took to make sense of all this.
— Dimitri
Dimitri sat up straight and rolled his shoulders. He, Adelaide, and Vicky had been poring over the list from the police of missing persons in 1938, 1958, and 1959. Each of them had taken a year. He had 1938 while Adelaide had 1958 and Vicky had 1959. If there was a connection here, they were going to find it.
“I think I’m going to go take a break and check emails.” Vicky stood and stretched. They’d been at it all morning.
“Take an early and long lunch.” Adelaide smiled at her assistant. “We’re almost to the end of the lists anyway. I’ll finish up.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.” She stuck a sticky note to mark her place on the list. “That’s where I left off.” With a little waggle of her fingers, she left the conference room.
“Are you getting hungry?” Dimitri might not be able to do much to impress Adelaide these days, but feeding her was his forte.
She checked her watch, then shook her head. “Not just yet. I figured I’d eat something with Dad later. I need to make sure he eats and takes his medicine.” She stood and stretched her arms over her head. Hunc
hing over reports and ledgers for so many hours had tightened all her muscles.
“I’ll make something special and have it sent up.” Dimitri smiled. He wanted to go and rub her neck and shoulders, but hesitated. Ever since the skeleton had been found, he’d felt a…he didn’t quite know what to call it. The best way he could describe it was a slip between him and Adelaide. A distance between them, ever so slightly. He didn’t like it, but didn’t know what to do to get back the easy feeling he used to have with her.
She smiled back at him as she twisted. “Thanks, Dimitri. That’ll be nice. And thank you for letting me put Dad in a suite here. If his homeowners doesn’t cover all the cost of his stay, I’ll pay the difference.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s your father. I wish you’d just let us comp the whole stay for him.”
“I appreciate that, I do, but Dad won’t hear of it.”
“I understand, but just so we’re clear, there will be no charge above what his insurance allows.”
“Thank you. The adjuster is supposed to call Dad today when he completes his inspection. Thank goodness he didn’t give a time he’d be at the house to look at it, or Dad would be sitting there waiting on him.”
Dimitri smiled. Adelaide didn’t realize how much like her father she was.
She returned to her seat. “I think I’m going to go over a few more pages before I check my messages and return any calls or emails I need to before lunch.”
He nodded.
“But if you need to go ahead and go, I totally understand. I can do this on my own for a few hours.”
As if he’d leave her to this task alone. “I think we’re almost done, to be honest. I’m on the last page from the 1938 missing persons list.”
She shook her head. “I’ve only got two pages left in ’58. Nothing matches. Nothing even close.” Desperation filled her voice as big as a Mardi Gras float. “I really thought there’d be a match.”
“Me, too. Maybe there’s one on these last pages.” He smiled at her. “Race you through the end.”
She nodded and bent back over her list and ledger. She absently tucked the lock of hair that brushed her face behind her ear.
He couldn’t help staring, but the strongest sense of loss rose from the pit of his gut and tightened in his chest. Dimitri couldn’t explain it, but the feeling was deep…profound. He gave himself a mental shake and went back to the last page of the police’s reported missing persons list for 1938.
None of the names matched any on the ledger. A total waste of time. He could have been placing the order for Friday night’s event food, or maybe showing Yvette the new—
His thoughts skidded to a halt as he read the note on the missing persons list: Harold Pampalon.
“Nothing.” Adelaide slammed the ledger shut and set the list to the side. “Looks like I got finished with my list first, so I’ll start on the last pages of 1959.” She looked at him. “What? Did you find a match?”
“No, not a match.”
“But something?”
He stared at the name, trying to mentally go through the list of his ancestry that he’d seen in the family history file. “December 1938.”
Adelaide continued to silently stare at him, waiting for him to continue.
“One Harold Pampalon was reported missing by his father, Louis Pampalon.”
“Was there an update listed? Adelaide moved around the table to look at the police list. Some of the names did have comments beside them. So did Harold’s. Adelaide read aloud, “No efforts on the case made due to the testimony of friends that Harold had left.”
Dimitri heard Adelaide read the words. He read along with her, but it still didn’t make sense. Who was Harold Pampalon? He couldn’t recall ever having seen the name before. Had it been on his family tree in the file?
“Do you have any idea who he was?” Adelaide asked him.
Dimitri shook his head. “I’m going to go look over the file you had Vicky pull for me and see if he’s in there. I don’t remember the name.”
“Me either.” She chewed her bottom lip as she lifted the paper. “I’ll ask Beau to see if he can pull up anything else from the police about this report.”
“I hope there’s something.”
“Dimitri…”
He looked at her, even as he began to shake his head. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t think so.”
She held up a hand in a stopping gesture. “I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but you and I both know there is a person who pretty much knows your family history inside out. At least from the time this hotel was built.”
“No. I don’t want to see him, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me.”
“You don’t know unless you go.”
He snorted. “Please. The last thing the man said to me was that I was a waste of Pampalon blood and if he ever saw me again, it’d be too soon.” He shook his head again. “Besides, I don’t think he’s put me on the visitor’s list, Adelaide.”
“Beau could get you in to see him, even if you aren’t on the list.” Her voice was low. Calm. Tone unwavering. “The worst that could happen would be that he refuses to talk to you, and that’s where you are now, so it’s not like it’s a big loss.”
Dimitri stared at the table. He wanted answers, of course, but he didn’t want to see his father. Claude Pampalon had made sure everyone in the courtroom at the sentencing had known exactly what he thought of his son. He’d accused him of setting up everything so that he could get control of the Darkwater Inn.
Adelaide was wrong—there was so much more for Dimitri to lose. His self-respect, of course, but also the tentative control he had on his temper when it came to Claude Pampalon.
1933
“I’m not going anywhere else. I’m my own man.” William stared at his two best friends, George and James. Night had just set over New Orleans, and they were supposed to be saying prayers before lights out.
“What are you gonna do?” James, the smallest of the three, stared at William with his eyes wide.
“The whole moving St. Mary’s and changing its name…it’s stupid.” William watched to make sure he had both of his friends’ full attention. He shifted from his kneeling position, still holding his rosary. “They’re going to lose paperwork and stuff. You know they will.”
George nodded as he rolled one of the beads between two fingers, but James just kept staring by the nightlights casting shadows in the dorm rooms.
William glanced around to make sure none of the other boys were listening before sitting on his bunk. He couldn’t trust any of them, only George and James. “I’m going to get out of here during the move.”
“What?” Even George had wide eyes now as he stood, glancing over his shoulder toward the door.
“Where are you going to go?” James asked, still in his kneeling position.
These two…so easy. William didn’t let his smile show as he set his rosary on the metal table between the beds. “Look, I’m fifteen now. We all know that we aren’t ever going to get adopted out of here, and once we turn seventeen, well, the home will basically kick us out anyway.” At least, that’s what he’d heard. He had no intention of hanging around to find out if that were true. He’d rather leave on his own terms than in whatever way this boys’ home intended.
“But where will you go? What will you do?” James sounded so whiney, making William wonder if he should rethink his plan.
“What have you got planned?” George smoothed the pillow on his bunk beside William’s bed and sat back on it.
“I’m going to live my life.” William puffed out his chest a little. Yeah, he might be a smaller guy, but he more than made up for that with his brains. He knew that.
“How? You have no money.” George slipped under his covers.
James followed suit on the other side of William. “Yeah.”
William shook his head. “Don’t you guys read the paper?” When both of his frien
ds shook their heads, he sighed. “The Works Progress Administration is doing all sorts of stuff, repairs and new stuff, in City Park. They’ve been talking about hiring all types of people.”
“But those are engineers and stuff, William, not fifteen-year-olds,” George replied.
“They said in the paper that they were looking to hire on even uneducated young men to do the clean up behind the workers.” William snorted. “I’m educated. Smart. All the teachers say so.”
George nodded.
William went ahead with revealing his plan. “I’m going to get hired on. From what I read, they provide lunch, too. I don’t eat much more than that. At least not until I start getting paid.” He’d thought it through. This was his only chance. He knew it was time. God had told him it was.
He and God, they’d been having some intense conversations lately. Oh, not the prayers the old biddy nuns tried to force him to recite from memory. Those were meaningless. Lip service, he knew that. God had shown him that.
God had shown him that he had a purpose, too. God would reveal it soon, but William had to do his part. He had to leave. Had to trust that God would provide and show him what he was supposed to do.
But he didn’t want to do it alone. “Guys, you two are my best friends, so I’m only telling you two.” He waited, flipping his head and gaze from one to the other. “If you want to get out of here and be your own man, too, I’ll let you go with me.” He pinched his lips together and held his breath, but forced his expression to remain the same.
Neither George nor James spoke at first. James looked across William to George.
How dare the little goof look to George? William was the leader here. Always had been, always would be. He squared his shoulders. “Unless you two are too chicken to come with me. I just thought I’d give you a chance to be a man, but if you would rather stay here under the skirts of the nuns…” He shrugged as he let his sentence fade.
