4 DEAD ... If Only Page 5

  She went ballistic, trashing the fridge, kitchen, and dining room before the paramedics arrived and sedated her. To this day, my heart starts to pound when I see an expired date on anything, even a grocery coupon.

  “Richard, calm down. I’m sure it didn’t get towed. And even if it did, we’ll pay the fine and bail it out.” I stretched out beckoning fingers. “Give me the keys. I’ll go down and move it to the regular parking section of the hospital. I’ll be back up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  I, personally, have never seen a lamb shake its tail or know the speed at which a tail is shaken, but this seems to be a soothing phrase for those about to step off the deep end. If only I had used it on my college friend all those years ago, we might have saved ourselves a messy cleanup.

  Releasing a trapped sigh, my brother dug around in his pockets for the keys to the rental. Once found, he pushed them in my hands. “Here. Thanks so much, Lee. It’s a light blue Prius on the end of a row. I can’t remember which one. If it’s been towed….” He paused, building up again to his former hysteria. His right eye twitched like crazy and his fine, blonde hair stood on end. “Don’t tell me. I can’t take any more today.”

  “Right. Maybe on the way back, I can snag a couple of quarts of Valium for you, just in case.”

  Leaving my purse on the floor, I pocketed the keys, and hurried out of the room and through the hall, passing Mom in yet another deep conversation with the brown detective. I hit Gurn’s number on my speed dial, as I galloped down the stairs two at a time. Gurn didn’t answer, but I left a quick message about him bringing me a change of clothes.

  I crossed through the lobby and followed the signs to emergency, quiet at the moment, then through its double doors to outside. The night was warm, the air heavy with moisture, but a slight breeze ruffled the damp curls already clinging to my forehead.

  The parking area in the emergency section was well lit but fairly empty. Of the few cars there, it was easy to make out the color and style. I went down the row and spotted Richard’s rental parked by itself on the end, but in practically no light at all.

  As I hurried toward it, I glanced up at the L-shaped pole overhead and saw the light bulb was dark. Chunks of glass crunched under my thin flip-flops. Wishing I had my flashlight, I looked up in the gloom to see the bulb was broken inside its fixture. Then I looked down at the glass underfoot.

  Near the car, smooth river rocks sat in decorative piles on the median in between well-tended landscaping. One fist-size rock, however, lay at the base of the light pole. Surmising it had been tossed up in the air, hit its mark, and crashed back to the ground, I was offended by the vandalism of it. Then I felt an additional thrill of fear run through me and went into PI alert.

  After a three-hundred and sixty degree turn scrutinizing my surroundings, I took careful steps toward Richard’s rental, not the least of which was the fear a piece of glass might puncture the soles of my well-worn sandals. The driver’s window was not rolled down, as it appeared at first glance, but showed jagged edges of glass around the framework. I unlocked and opened the door. The overhead light came on to reveal glittering shards of glass covering the driver’s seat. I looked over at the passenger’s side. Same thing. Glass rubble layered both chairs as if poured from a container.

  This surprised me and made no sense. If someone wanted to steal from the car, they only needed to break one window to get in, not two. Besides, Vicki’s expensive camera and case and Richard’s new baseball cap with If at first you don't succeed; call it version 1.0 written across the crown lay undisturbed on the backseat. What was going on?

  Then I saw it. Propped up against the gearshift sat a crudely made voodoo doll, black button eyes staring out at nothing, black stitched ‘x’s forming a grimaced mouth. Created out of an off-white coarse burlap, it was about twelve-inches in length, and splattered with what looked like blood. Two long nails, one stuck through the head and the other piercing the heart, completed the ghastly picture.

  Chapter Seven

  Sometimes You’re Dealing With An Idiot

  I needn’t have worried about the extra weight I gained in Napa Valley. Between not having any lunch and taking the stairs two at a time yet again to the fifth floor, I felt pounds lighter already. Noting Mom glaring at him from afar, I pounced on Detective Devereux as he stood shooting the breeze with the seated policeman. I should have known what his attitude was going to be when he elected to take the elevator traveling at glacial speed down to the parking lot instead of following me on the well-worn stairs, as my mother did.

  Detective Devereux finally arrived, me waiting by the side of the car, Mom discreetly standing at a distance in the murky night, arms folded across her chest. I lifted an accusing finger toward the interior of the car. He merely glanced inside and grunted.

  “Looks to me like a case of pure vandalism. I’m homicide. This isn’t within my jurisdiction, Miss Alvarez.” He said my name like he’d added a mental spit after it.

  “Excuse me? You don’t think this is related to Vicki or the dead man found lying beside her?” ‘Spit all you want’ is my motto, just make it downwind of me. “And by the way, who was he?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Up yours, I thought but merely pointed to the doll again. Without any more words between us, he snatched it up with impatience, examined it cursorily, and chucked it back into the car like it was yesterday’s newspaper.

  “You can find voodoo dolls like that anywhere in New Orleans, fake blood and all. It’s no big deal. And cars get broken into all the time.”

  “Really? That’s all you get from this? You don’t see anything sinister or threatening? Something happens to the car of the victim lying upstairs and you don’t think it’s related?” Nothing puts me more into the I-Am-A-Stanford-Graduate-So-Maybe-I’m-A-Little-Brighter-Than-You-Are mode more than the deliberate denial on someone’s part just to annoy the bejesus out of me.

  He knew he’d achieved his goal and snickered, the pinhead. “Tell you what I’m going to do, Miss Alvarez.”

  There was that mental spit again. I counted to ten.

  “And what’s that, Detective Devereux?” In my mind, I hock-pooed back at him as I said his name. Two can play that game.

  “As a courtesy, I’ll file a vandalism report for you. You should let the rental car company know. Have a pleasant evening.”

  He turned and walked away with a shake of his head. I watched the back of him vanish into the night.

  “Man, that is one mean bastard.”

  “Please, Liana,” Mom chastised in her best mother voice, stepping forward. “Such language.”

  I turned on her. “You don’t think he’s a mean bastard?”

  “Of course, I do. I just wouldn’t say it, that’s all.”

  I had to laugh. “Then consider it said for both of us.”

  “Indeed.” She was silent but we both stared at each other in a moment of truth.

  “Okay, Mom. What the hell is going on? Who is this Detective Devereux and why is he so hostile? I’ve seen you going head to head with him and when you do, it’s like you’ve found a pile of cow dung, sunny-side up.”

  She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Where do you come up with these distasteful phrases, Liana?”

  “Never mind my phrases. What gives?”

  I could see thoughts bouncing around in her head, and then she came to a decision.

  “Very well, perhaps it’s time we spoke of it. Gurn has arrived and is in with Richard. He brought you a change of clothes. Let’s go upstairs, call the rental car company, and then we will converse. Mateo already knows this but Richard and you don’t. You were both teenagers at the time and your father and I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

  “So my feeling Devereux has an axe to grind with the Alvarez family is true?”

  She nodded, and turned toward the entrance of the hospital.

  I didn’t follow, but unlocked the back doors of the car with the ele
ctronic key fob. I flung a door open and retrieved Vicki’s camera and Richard’s cap. Hesitating, I moved forward and stared at the apparition-like bundle thrown face down among the rubble on the driver’s chair.

  “Can I help you carry anything?”

  Mom’s voice startled me out of my reverie. I hadn’t known she came back and was watching me with an anxious expression, one I could see even in the gloom.

  “No, it’s fine, Mom.”

  “Are you comfortable in touching the doll? If not, I’ll take it. I’d like to see it in better light.”

  I smiled at her with a confidence I wasn’t necessarily feeling. It’s an old PI trick - never let them see you shake.

  “Mom, I spent much of the morning lying in a vat of hot mud from head to toe. This doll is not even close to that on my ick-odometer.”

  A faint smile crossed my mother’s lips before she pivoted and strode toward the hospital with a determined gait. I trailed behind, bloody voodoo doll in hand.

  Chapter Eight

  Take Your Meetings Where You Can

  Tío had checked out the cafeteria when he’d left us, thinking convenience and the time factor outweighed any gourmet delicacies. Ordinarily, it would have been a tough sell to ask the mater and CEO of Discretionary Inquiries to dine in a hospital cafeteria, she who would rather eat diamond dust than processed cheese, but Tío can be very persuasive. He said he’d had a heart-to-heart with the cook, a native New Orleanian, who seemed to know his stuff and approached a cook top with honor and knowhow.

  So shortly before nine p.m., Mom, Tío, Gurn and I toddled down to the cafeteria for a quick bite, sans Richard. With the promise to bring him back something, Richard continued to sift through the Internet while awaiting updates on Vicki’s condition.

  Dressed to an acceptable level of my mother’s standards in a Vera Wang orange and red sundress and red leather slingbacks, I gave silent thanks to Gurn’s selections, given the choices available in my wardrobe. A man who likes cats and can coordinate a woman’s accessories is a rare find, especially when he can make the temperature wherever we are climb with his kisses.

  The menu comprised mostly of Cajun and Mexican dishes - how can you go wrong – with an emphasis on rice and beans. I’ve never met a bean I didn’t like, so I shoveled in food like I hadn’t eaten for days.

  Tío munched on a gordito, a small Mexican sandwich and pronounced it ‘bueno’. Mom pecked at a garden salad, dressing on the side. She’d made the mistake of buying a glass of sweetened iced tea. An acquired taste for sure, it sat untouched and sweating by her tray before I snatched it up and gulped it down. I love sweetened tea. Gurn opted for the same platter as me, and inhaled cups of coffee as he ate. It was going to be a long night and we both needed the caffeine. Surprisingly, the food was pretty good even if it was drying out and getting on in years.

  The cook, whose name was Slavio, was a rotund black man wearing a pristine white apron and cap. He hovered around the table in awe of Tío’s reputation as a chef. If Tío had been Miley Cyrus singing stark naked, he couldn’t have gotten more attention. Around us the rest of the cafeteria workers were closing up after a long day. Tío mentioned later he had given Slavio his secret recipe for Flan, the one that put Las Mañanitas on the Bay Area culinary map, in exchange for keeping the cafeteria open after hours. One of those win-wins.

  It was a quick meal, and shortly after nine-thirty we returned to the conference room conveniently wearing a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign; I’m sure Richard’s undertaking. This is what happens when a geek travels with his own printer. Said geek can make signs at will.

  After learning Vicki’s vitals were much better and she was sleeping comfortably, we gathered around the table. Tío handed off a ham and cheese dripping with jalapeño peppers to Richard, his second favorite sandwich. His first favorite is a peanut butter sauerkraut combo, which has forced many of us to leave the room when he starts in on one. Richard held a small juice carton to his mouth, this time strawberry/grape. I watched him slurp it down. One could never call my brother a gourmand.

  “Are we going to watch Richard’s abysmal dining habits or should we get this meeting started?” I looked around the table.

  All eyes darted over to the chair in which the sixth member of the party sat, a voodoo doll encased in a clear plastic bag obtained from one of the candy stripers.

  Mom cleared her throat and took command, as usual. From this point on, we would no longer address her as anything but Lila. This was standard operating procedure, going from close-knit family to consummate professionals, something we’ve been doing since my early teens. Lila clasped her hands together almost in prayer and looked around at the assembled.

  “Before we speak of the recent events and with Gurn’s indulgence, I would like to explain the history the Alvarez family has with the New Orleans Police Department and in particular, Detective Maxim Devereux.”

  She flicked at her perfectly groomed blonde hair, with taut fingers. Whatever she was going to tell us, it wasn’t a pleasant memory for her. We waited, while she pulled herself together.

  “Nineteen years ago your father and I were in the process of making Discretionary Inquiries solvent. We had a certain amount of financial backing, the Coxe family assets to be exact. But the industry was in its infancy and Silicon Valley companies had yet to discover the need for our services. We weren’t sure the business would survive. It was at that time your father received a call from an old friend, Felix Devereux, elder brother to Maxim Devereux. Felix, who originated from New Orleans, attended Stanford at the same time as your father and I. He was a lovely man and friend enough to be one of the ushers at our wedding. Roberto and I were quite fond of him.”

  “You keep using words in the past tense, Lila,” Richard interrupted. “Does that mean he’s dead?”

  “Yes, sadly. But to continue, Felix was being coerced by an unknown gambling syndicate to open the doors of his string of nightclubs to them.”

  “And Felix Devereux called Dad?” I was surprised I hadn’t known any of this. I could tell by the expression of Richard’s face he was, too.

  “Yes, he wanted to hire our services. Even though it was out of state and not what we saw ourselves as doing, it was for a fair amount of money. And as I mentioned, he was an old friend. Felix told us the threats were subtle at first, intimidating visits from the associates, late night phone calls, followed by harassing notes. Finally, his clubs were broken into, with great damage done. Another note was left, this time threatening his family unless he cooperated. But he never got a name or knew exactly who was doing it. The police were brought in for the break-in, but Felix shared little else with them. Maxim Devereux was a rookie cop with the department then, and Felix tried to keep him out of it, fearing he might be tainted by the connection.

  “I stayed in Palo Alto while your father flew here and did some discrete investigating. Roberto found out the syndicate was out of Chicago, old and powerful. His only hope was to find information that would either coerce them into backing off or enough evidence to take to the police and have them arrested.”

  “Tall order,” Gurn commented.

  “Yes, it was,” Lila agreed. “But Roberto did come up with something that linked them to an unsolved murder in nineteen seventy-seven. It was the break Felix and Roberto were looking for. Roberto’s plan was to give the syndicate twenty-four hours to get out of town before the evidence was turned over to the police. Only then did they tell Maxim of the situation. What they hadn’t counted on was the then Chief of Police being on the syndicate’s payroll.”

  Lila stiffened, the expression on her face lost in the past. We were silent, waiting for her to continue.

  “From what I understand, Maxim didn’t know this either. Regrettably, he had, unbeknownst to Roberto and Felix, gone to the Chief of Police and confided what he’d learned. Whether he was looking for help or trying to get a promotion…”

  Her voice broke off, and her fingertips stroked the wedding band on
her left hand. “….we’ll never know. Of course, the Chief warned his partners, who took action immediately. Your father and Felix were sitting in the kitchen of his home. Fortunately, the children were at school, his wife was out shopping. The back door to the kitchen burst open and several men came in and started shooting. Felix was killed instantly; your father was shot in the leg. Roberto was still able to return fire, injuring one and killing the other. The third man fled.”

  “Oh, my God,” Richard exploded. “Dad was shot?”

  Chapter Nine

  The Truth Comes Out

  “Yes, it turned out to be a non-life threatening injury. You remember, the time we told you your father fell and hurt his hip? This is what actually happened. Your father was exonerated, especially as he had set up delivery of the evidence to the police for the following day through a well-established law firm. But it took two months for the link between the Police Chief and the syndicate to come to light. During that time, Maxim blamed Roberto for what happened. To this day, he has never forgiven the Alvarez family for our part in his brother’s death.”

  “Holy chamoly. This is bad.” I looked from one to the other. I know the shock and discomfort I felt was written all over my face.

  Tío smiled at me. “Mi sobrina, I have known you to rise above much more. You must not let this deter you from what must be done.”

  The second large subject had been broached by our Tío. It was a foregone conclusion what we would be doing for the next several days. Searching for a dead man.

  “Yes, time to move on to the problem of Dennis Manning. What do we know?” Lila Hamilton Alvarez can ask for a summary like nobody’s business.

  Richard jumped in without being invited. “We know that Dennis Manning, the man who attacked Vicki’s sister, is not dead as previously thought. He --”