New Orleans Noir

by Joanna Wayne

  She stretched and luxuriated in the sensation of her nakedness against the sheets, reminding her of all the ways Hunter had explored and titillated her body last night.

  The thrill of their lovemaking stayed with her through her first cup of coffee and shifted to anticipation for more of the same while she showered and dressed in a pale pink sundress with a halter neckline.

  And then the dread and fear crept in, followed quickly by the urge to change into one of her painting smocks and take her easel into the courtyard. She needed an outlet for her joy and a calming for her soul.

  Instead she decided to settle for taking a walk through the Quarter and stopping at Sophia’s Bakery near her house for a chocolate croissant before the unforgiving heat claimed the day.

  She waited until she was ready to walk out the door before making a call to Robicheaux and telling him she was ready to sign a contract for the proposed project. He made an appointment to meet at her house at three.

  She started to call Hunter but hesitated. He’d ordered her not to leave the house without letting him know exactly where she’d be. On the other hand, she hated to interrupt him.

  She decided on the latter. Better interrupted than angry at her. Her pulse quickened as she punched in his number.

  “Is anything wrong? Are you okay?” His usual greeting when she called. He was protective to the core.

  “The only problem I have to report is that a sexy detective broke out of my house in the wee hours of the morning.”

  The comment was met with laughter. Lots of laughter.

  Her cheeks began to burn. “Was I on speaker?”

  “Yeah. My bad. A group of us are in an online meeting with the chief. Speaker’s off now.”

  “How’s the new lead working out?” she asked.

  “Too soon to say.”

  “That’s better than ‘nothing there.’”

  “Yeah.” He sounded distracted.

  “Sorry that I caught you at a bad time,” she said. “You said I should call when I leave the house so...”

  “Where are you going?” he interrupted.

  “For a walk around the neighborhood with a stop at the bakery. I don’t need a police stalker. I just wanted you to know where I’ll be.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Right now.”

  “Wait ten minutes, and remember, no alleyways or shortcuts.”

  “I’ll stay right here in the heart of the Quarter. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you later,” he said.

  He’d said okay, but she figured he’d still alert the cops in the area to keep an eye on her. As long as the killer was contacting her, she’d be considered high risk.

  Her phone rang as she stepped into the courtyard. She closed and locked the door behind her and walked over to the fountain before answering.

  “Hello.”

  “Is this Helena Cosworth?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s me, Alyssa.”

  “Are you already up and working this early?”

  “Up but not working. I’m taking the day off and driving across the lake to visit my grandmother. She’s living in an assisted living center near my mother.”

  “Good for you. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

  “You never know. Some days she’s sharp enough to converse with me on almost any topic I bring up. Other days, she seems totally disoriented or not interested in anything I have to say. She’ll fall asleep while I’m talking.”

  “How old is she now?”

  “Ninety-two. But she drives her walker like a race car. The reason I called is that I’m hoping you’ll ride over there with me.”

  Now things were starting to add up. “This wouldn’t be the grandmother who used to be the famous medium, is she?”

  “Yes, it’s Brigitte, but I’m not counting on her advising you in any way. She claims her mind and body retired from all things psychic.”

  “Yet somehow, you hope she’ll suddenly recover her skills and explain your bloody vision of me and Lacy?”

  “I’m not expecting miracles. But what could it hurt to visit her?”

  “No. I’m not going to pull a ninety-two-year-old woman into this. Please, let it go, Alyssa. You don’t believe you have extrasensory skills yourself, so the visions are meaningless.”

  “You can ride out there to keep me company. If nothing else, you can meet Brigitte. She’s a character worth knowing.”

  “I have an appointment here this afternoon at three with Romeo.”

  “With whom?”

  “Real name, Antoine Robicheaux. He’s a friend of Hunter’s. Used to be an FBI agent but owns an apparently very successful security company now. Not sure if he’s making me safe or a prisoner with all the locks he’s installing, but the only way in for a criminal will be by helicopter.”

  “It would be cheaper to move Hunter Bergeron in with you.”

  “Are you staring into that fake crystal ball again?”

  “Just a thought. But I’m serious about needing company on that long drive across the Causeway. If we leave here around eleven, we can easily be back by three.”

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “No,” Alyssa said, “but I promise not to harp on the bloody images.”

  “In that case, I’ll ride over with you.”

  “Great. Pick you up at eleven.”

  It was only half past eight now. Helena would still have plenty of time for her walk.

  She heard her name called and looked up. Ella was on her balcony, picking dead blooms from her Mandevilla plant and letting them parachute to the pebbled courtyard below.

  “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” Ella called.

  Helena hated turning her down, but now she was primed for a morning walk and one of Sophia’s flaky chocolate croissants.

  “Why don’t you come take a walk with me? I’ll treat you to a cup of coffee at Sophia’s bakery.”

  “I’d love to. Mia and I used to walk almost every day. I’ve tried doing it without her but it’s not the same.”

  “I know. I miss her, too. Come on down. I’ll wait.”

  There went her opportunity to do nothing but think of Hunter and the bizarre turns her life had taken over the past few days. But it would also help her avoid thinking of the killer and what he’d meant by his latest horrifying comments.

  Ella was at the gate in less than ten minutes wearing a pair of athletic walking shoes, trousers, a colorful tunic and a large-brimmed straw hat.

  “I sure do appreciate your asking me along,” Ella said. “Sometimes I think I’ll go bananas in that house thinking about poor Elizabeth. I can’t even turn on the TV the past couple of weeks without hearing some reporter bantering about how it’s right around the six-month mark and there’s going to be another killing any day now. And I’m not just talking about the local channels, either.”

  “I’m sure it’s been hard on you. All I can tell you is that the police are determined to make sure that the killer doesn’t strike again.”

  “For sure, Hunter is,” Ella agreed.

  At seventy-two, Ella could still walk almost as fast as she talked and that was saying a lot. Several friends of Ella’s and Mia’s stopped to say hello. All of them were curious about what Helena was going to do with the carriage house and the adjoining property.

  Helena had no answers for them. Hunter had told her he loved her. He hadn’t said anything about the future. How could she make any definite plans without knowing where their relationship was heading?

  The bakery was crowded when they arrived. She and Ella found a table for two near the left back corner but with a good view of everyone entering.

  “This is the best people-watching area in the French Quarter,” Ella said. “You see
everything here. Look at that young woman who just walked in. Why in the world would she think having her hair two completely different colors would be becoming?”

  “It’s the style among the younger set,” Helena offered.

  “I suppose so. We didn’t do that in my day.”

  The waitress stopped by their table and took their orders for coffee and chocolate croissants.

  The bell over the door tingled again. Two young women stepped inside and scanned the area for an empty table before heading their way. Lacy and her friend.

  It would be hard to bypass a catastrophe unless by some miracle, Ella didn’t see the likeness between Lacy and Elizabeth. Only judging from Ella’s pained expression, she already had. Her face was ashen as the young women found seats just two tables down from them.

  “The blonde who just came in looks just like my Elizabeth.” The timbre of Ella’s voice was practically bloodcurdling. “You must see it, too.”

  “There’s a likeness,” Helena agreed. She reached over and took one of Ella’s shaking hands. “This is making you uncomfortable. Why don’t I have the waitress change our orders to takeout?”

  “No,” Ella said emphatically. “I’m not ready to go.”

  Helena couldn’t believe sitting here and reliving the heartache of Elizabeth’s death could be good for Ella but forcing her to leave could be even more devastating.

  Lacy left her table after ordering and walked back to the restroom area. While she was gone the waitress brought Helena and Ella’s order. Before Helena had time to stir cream into her coffee, two groups of women stopped by their table to say hello to Ella and Helena.

  Ella barely spoke to any of them.

  “Did you and Mia come in here often?” Helena asked when they were alone again.

  “Every Tuesday and Thursday.”

  “You were a regular. No wonder so many of the customers know you.”

  “Mia knew and talked to everybody everywhere we went. Elizabeth was like that, too. I should have warned her more often not to trust strangers.”

  “Don’t go blaming yourself, Ella. Elizabeth had a beautiful spirit. People young and old were drawn to her. That’s all.”

  Ella was about to take a bite of her croissant when Lacy sat back down at her table. The pastry slipped from Ella’s shaky fingers and fell back to the saucer. A few drops of coffee spilled over Ella’s fingers as she pushed the mug away.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” Helena dabbed up the spill with her paper napkin.

  A few minutes later Connor Harrington stepped into the coffee shop. Judging from his clothing and sweat, he’d likely been to the nearby gym.

  He went to the counter for a coffee and then headed toward Helena’s table. He never made it. Instead he joined Lacy and her friend.

  “Lacy and Brenda, a nice surprise running into the two of you,” he greeted loudly enough for Helena to catch the friend’s name.

  In seconds he and Lacy were involved in an animated conversation. Brenda looked annoyed. Connor left a few minutes later with his coffee. He never noticed Helena or else he chose not to acknowledge her.

  Ella continued to stare at her full cup of coffee and untouched croissant while Helena finished hers. “I hate to rush you, but I have an appointment at eleven,” Helena said.

  “I have no appetite today. We can go now,” Ella agreed.

  Helena paid the tab and left a tip.

  Ella stopped next to Lacy as they were leaving and put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

  “I don’t mean to upset you, dear, but you could be the twin of my great-niece who was murdered last spring.”

  Lacy looked perplexed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re beautiful. I only said this to warn you to be careful.”

  Lacy stared at Ella as if she was totally confused by the unusual comments from a stranger.

  “Sure,” Lacy said. “I’ll stay out of trouble.”

  “Don’t go off alone with anyone you don’t know,” Ella continued. “The serial killer who stole my niece’s life may be looking for someone exactly like you.”

  Thankfully, Ella walked away after that. Lacy didn’t say a word.

  Her friend didn’t stay silent. Brenda’s words were loud and clear.

  “If you don’t heed Courtney’s warning about hanging out with strangers, I don’t suppose you’re going to listen to that poor old lady who lost her niece, either.”

  Helena waited until they were outside before texting Hunter about seeing Lacy and Connor together.

  Hunter’s response was an emoji indicating he’d gotten her message. He was obviously busy, but Helena would have loved to know if Courtney was the undercover police officer who was supposed to be looking out for Lacy. If so, she might need to step up her efforts.

  The killer’s last phone call had warned he was moving full speed ahead.

  * * *

  LUNCHTIME FOR THE residents was finishing up when Helena and Alyssa arrived at the assisted living center. Brigitte had finished her meal and was dawdling over a bowl of what looked like caramel pudding.

  Brigitte seemed glad to see them and suggested they go the center’s atrium to talk, explaining that it felt almost like being outside but without the heat and humidity.

  Alyssa offered to get her a wheelchair. Brigitte acted insulted. For good reason, Helena realized when they started walking. As promised, Brigitte was a Hells Angel behind that walker.

  They stopped at a vending machine as they left the cafeteria and Alyssa got soft drinks for herself and Helena to tide them over until they had time to grab lunch.

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything from the machine, Grammy?” Alyssa asked.

  “I’m sure unless they’ve added vodka.”

  “No vodka. I can get you an orange juice and you can pretend it’s a vodka screwdriver.”

  “It’s hard enough pretending you drove all the way over here in the middle of a work day just to chat. I’m sure you are looking for some type of interpretation.”

  Brigitte’s wavery voice gave away her age as much as her wrinkles and nearly translucent skin did. On the other hand, her attitude and ease with words revealed she hadn’t lost much in the intellect and wit departments.

  But it was her extrasensory abilities they were about to put to the test. Helena grew more uneasy as Brigitte led them to a spot in the corner where three club chairs were placed around a small round table.

  Alyssa brought up the subject of her frightening visions.

  The only comforting aspect of this was that Brigitte showed no indication that she envisioned Helena splattered in blood.

  Next, Alyssa spent a few minutes trying to engage Brigitte in small talk. Brigitte wasn’t buying it.

  Brigitte reached over and put a bony, vein-stitched hand on Helena’s arm. “It’s great meeting you, but I’m out of the psychic game. My brain and body won’t hold up to constantly living inside other people’s problems.”

  An odd way of putting it. Giving up the game rather than losing the ability.

  “My sweet granddaughter here is much smarter than me. She’s convinced herself she’s a fraud so that she doesn’t have to take on the responsibility of saving everyone around her. I pray she stays on that path, but today’s visit makes me fear otherwise.”

  “I am a fraud, Grammy, except...”

  She hesitated. Helena and Brigitte stayed quiet and waited on her to finish that pronouncement.

  “Except that sometimes I let my imagination take off on its own and leave my reasoning ability behind. I don’t trust what I see in my subconscious, but I can’t always brush it off.”

  Brigitte leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes as if fading off to sleep. Helena felt terrible. They’d not only infringed on her peac
e of mind, they were interfering with her naptime.

  A second later, she opened her eyes again and stared at Alyssa. “If you’re here for me to interpret your imaginings, you’re wasting all our time.”

  “We shouldn’t have bothered you,” Helena said. “Alyssa, please don’t say more about the hallucinations.”

  Brigitte went on as if Helena hadn’t jumped into the conversation. “If you’re here for advice, Alyssa, I’d warn you to trust your instincts. Go where angels fear to tread if you must, but don’t bury yourself in regrets when you realize you haven’t changed anything. The future is not in your hands.”

  Helena was awed by Brigitte’s wisdom. As Mia had always said, the passing years might rob one of a few brain cells, but the lessons living taught more than made up for that.

  “Don’t you even want to hear about what I’m dealing with, what my friend Helena is facing?” Alyssa asked, disappointment bleeding into her words.

  “No. It wouldn’t help, Alyssa. Even when I was at the top of my game, I could never absorb meaning from secondhand interpretations. Talking about it is only going to upset all of us.”

  “I was hoping meeting Helena would spark your own vision.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve spent the past few years learning to block those revelations. Now, I don’t know what exciting plans you ladies have for the rest of the day, but it’s nap time for me.”

  “We’ll walk you back to your room,” Alyssa said.

  “I’m not an invalid. You’re my guests. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Brigitte was not one to argue with, so they followed as she led the way.

  They shared goodbyes and hugs but for some reason Brigitte suggested Alyssa get the car and pick up Helena at the door.

  The second Alyssa was out of earshot, Brigitte reached for Helena’s hand. The calm Brigitte had exhibited inside the building transformed into drawn facial muscles and anxiety clouding her eyes.

  Helena suddenly realized why Brigitte had sent Alyssa on without her. Brigitte was about to go herself where angels feared to tread. Helena was pretty sure she was not going to like what she was about to hear.