Cold Blood (42 page)

“Okay, just hang in there, pal, ‘cause I don’t know if they are gonna let me over the doormat.”

She looked up at the great white house, framed between two chestnut trees behind an austere spearpoint fence, and straightened her jacket.

“Right, ma’am, I’m here no place else to go, ready and waiting.”

She turned and stared at him for a moment.

“What’s your name?”

“Frankie, short for Frangois.”

She touched his shoulder lightly.

“Keep your fingers crossed, Francois.”

He liked it that she didn’t call him Frankie; Frangois sounded cool.

Missy, one of the Caleys’ maids, ushered Lorraine into fhe drawing room.

“Will you please wait just one moment while I inform Miss Elizabeth you are here. I think she is resting awhile.”

“Thank you, and would you stress that it ery important that I speak to her?”

W

Elizabeth hung up the phone and smiled; she hadn’t even had to persuade Judashe agreed instantly. She then called Edward to tell him to return to LA immediately and collect Mrs. Juda Salina it was imperative that she arrive as soon as possible.

She felt more confident nowshe’d get Robert put into his place, she’d make him pay. She smiled at her reflection in the large gessoed and gilded mirror above her bureau, and the feeling of compressed rage lifted until she was almost light-headed just thinking about taking revenge. Robert Caley was no more than a cheap con man, he’d been one when she met him. He was very attractivethat had helpedand he’d taken the bait even faster than she had believed he would. But it had had to be fast because she had already been three months pregnant, and neither she nor Lloyd, who was already married, had wanted any scandal. And after Caley had signed the prenuptial agreements and the various other deals for a considerable amount of money, Lloyd and Elizabeth had toasted each other with chilled champagne.

“He’s a good find, Elizabeth,”

Dulay had said admiringly.

“Well, we didn’t have too much choice.”

Dulay had leaned over and patted her belly.

“Con men are easy enough to control. Never let him handle the purse strings, my darling, I’ll always oversee all that, and I’ll get trust funds set up for you and my baby.”

“If it’s a boy, Lloyd, what then?”

“Screw the scandal. You get rid of the creep, I’ll get a divorce, and we’ll get married.”

They had toasted each other again.

They had even decided that they would call him Louis if it was a boy. She had wept when a girl was born, and Anna Louise was named after the son Lloyd had wanted so badly. But he had been true to his word and made watertight financial settlements, hiring advisers to handle the money and trust funds, for both herself and Anna Louise. But his visits grew further and further apart, until she saw him only once a year at Mardi Gras. Anna Louise never knew who her real father was because Caley had kept his side of the bargain, had brought her up as his own, and was named as the father on the birth certificate.

Missy peeked in.

“A Mrs. Page downstairs asking to see you, said it’s important, ma’am.”

Elizabeth frowned, irritated at the interruption of her daydreaming, but then felt guilty.

“I’ll be right down, Missy, just powder my nose.”

She opened one of the drawers of her satinwood bureau and stared at the rows of pill bottles, then she slammed it shut.

“Now don’t, Elizabeth, don’t get it started all over again,”

she said sharply to her own reflection.

“Just stay calm.”

Lorraine waited downstairs, looking around her at the double parlor whose elegant proportions and furnishings exhaled restraint and grace as unmistakably as those of the Dulay house screamed for attention. Whatever impulses Elizabeth had toward movie-star glamour she had kept in their place in the Los Angeles house, while here little had changed since the inventory taken by her great-grandmother. The ceiling frescoes painted shortly after the house had been erected had never been covered, while the Russian carpets, the piano and music box, and the delicate chairs and side tables had been part of the young bride’s dowry: curtains that fell straight and plain to the floor did not try to compete with the magnificent plasterwork of the cornices, and for fifty years the walls had been a deep and quiet Nile blue. The two fireplaces were unashamedly empty

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of dried flowers or fake logs; above one hung a family portrait, above the other a Corot.

It was a quarter of an hour before Elizabeth Caley came into the room, looking stunningly beautiful in a cream silk suit.

“Mrs. Page. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Lorraine smiled.

“That’s all right, really.”

“Now, what can I offer you? Champagne, or wine, or maybe a real Southern sloe gin?”

“I don’t drink, Mrs. Caley.”

“Oh, well, maybe an iced tea?”

“That would be fine.”

Elizabeth rang for the maid, drew up one of the chairs and sat opposite.

“You wanted to see me?”

She was bright-eyed, not a hair out of place, groomed and manicured and more confident than Lorraine had ever seen her before.

“You look very well,”

Lorraine said quietly.

“Thank you, I am. Ah, refreshments.”

Missy passed them both tall fluted glasses of iced lemon tea, with slices of lemon and lime. It was refreshing, bittersweet.

“Mmm, delicious,”

Elizabeth said, putting down her glass.

“Cigarette?”

Lorraine took out her own pack and lit Elizabeth’s first before her own.

“Have you any results, any news?”

She could have been asking about a movie contract from an agent; she showed no emotion whatsoever. She was clearly in control of herself. m”

“Well, I have certainly been kept very busy. Lorraine opened her notebook and took out her pen.

“You know the polar bears on Anna Louise’s bed, did you give them to her?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, but knew it was not a frivolous question.

“No, I think Robert gave her three or four. She used to call him Polar because sometimes he can be very frosty, you know.”

“Did he also give one to Tilda Brown?”

Again, Elizabeth seemed slightly fazed by the question.

“I really don’t know.”

Lorraine looked at her directly.

“Did you hear about Tilda Brown?”

“Yes, I did. They were the first people I called on when I arrived. Tragic, just terrible.”

“Yes, it is. I interviewed Tilda, just to go over her original statements, but she confirmed that she never saw Anna Louise.”

Lorraine paused while Elizabeth sipped her iced tea, patting her lips with a folded white linen napkin.

“Do you know a man called Fryer Jones?” Elizabeth blinked and then shook her head.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“He was the only person the police arrested for questioningan eyewitness said he saw him on the night of the fifteenth talking to Anna Louise close to his bar near the French Quarter, not far from your hotel.”

“I didn’t even know they had arrested anyone.”

She sounded surprised.

“Well, it wasn’t publicized because they released him the same evening. He had a number of alibis from people who stated he didn’t leave his bar the entire evening. There was a Jesse Corbello, his brother Willy, and young sister Sugar May, plus …”

Lorraine passed the handwritten sheet Rooney had jotted down from the police files.

“Do you know any of these people at all?”

“No, no. I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Do you know Edith Corbello at all?”

“TVT

“

No.

Lorraine seemed to be concentrating on her notebook, but she was watching Elizabeth closely; she had hardly giventhe list a glance.

“But you know Juda Salina.”

Mrs. Caley was tensing up now, small signals of her unease showing. Her knees pressed close together, her arms twitched slightly.

“Well, you know that I do.”

“She is Edith Corbello’s sister. They used to be known as the Salina sisters.”

Elizabeth suddenly gasped.

“Of course, yes, I do recall her. I don’t know her, but I remember Juda mentioning her sistershe’s married to Fryer Jones, I think.”

Lorraine looked up, taken by surprise. She paused a moment before continuing.

“There is also another son, Raoul Corbello, he was working for Juda in Los Angeles.”

“I don’t recall the name.”

“And also a second daughter, she’s eighteen, Ruby Corbello. She is about to be crowned.”

“Not debutante of the year, surely!”

“No, she is queen of a new black krewe in the Carnivalit’s apparently a great honor, and a big ceremony.”

“Yes, yes, it is. More tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Lorraine picked up her glass; she had only taken a few sips, and watched Elizabeth pluck at something on her skirt.

“And what about Lloyd Dulay, do you know him?”

Elizabeth’s head shot up and she stared wide-eyed at Lorraine.

“Of course I know Lloyd, he’s a dear old friend.”

“Anna Louise was his daughter,”

Lorraine said flatly.

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Elizabeth looked away, her cheeks flushed.

“You have been busy. I hope you have been equally discreetthat is a very personal and private matter. Did he teH you or did Robert?”

“It will remain private, Mrs. Caley, I assure you, and Mr. Dulay told me himself.”

“Good heavens!”

She sighed and then said she felt tired, and if Lorraine had no further questions, would she mind if she excused herself?

“I saw your film The Swamp and I enjoyed it very much.”

Elizabeth laughed, a little theatrically.

“Oh, goodness me, where on earth did you see it?”

“Mr. Dulay kindly lent me a video. I noticed in the cast list that both the Salina sisters and Fryer Jones were in the film not large parts, basically extras.”

“I didn’t mix with the extras, Mrs. Page.”

“But you saw a lot of Juda Salina.”

“Yes, but not during the filming. We met up years later at some function here, and if you don’t mind my saying so, I really can’t see how that old film has got anything to do with your tracing my daughter. Good heavens, I was almost her age when I made it, so it was a long time ago.”

“Do you believe in voodoo, Mrs. Caley?”

Her hand flapped.

“Oh, really, I can’t answer that, no, no, I can’t answer that.”

ť

“Did your daughter?”

“I very much doubt it, she was a very sensible girl.”

“So are many of the thousands of worshiBks here. Do you know if Tilda Brown believed in it?”

^

“Tilda? I wouldn’t know, but then one never knows what children get up to.”

“She was hardly a child, she was the same age as Anna, almost nineteen. …”

Lorraine wondered whether or not she should mention the doll. She knew Elizabeth was lying; her tic had become far more pronounced as she brushed her skirt one moment, then picked at the flecks of the raw silk, then scratched with her long red fingernail.

There was a long pause, and then Lorraine went for the kill.

“I found a doll in Tilda Brown’s tennis racket case. It was a disgusting, stinking, handmade doll encased in excrement and urine. It was made, although crudely, to resemble Tilda, and even had a cut-out photograph of her face stuck onto the head. Human hair and, I think, possibly blood was matted on the top of it and there was a long pin sticking through the left eyeball out to the back of the head.”

Elizabeth Caley stared at the toe of her sandal, very still now. There

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was another long pause before Lorraine continued,

“Because of their distress, I have not been able to discuss my findings with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, but my partners are taking the doll to the mortuary, hopefully to get samples of Tilda’s hair and blood to see if they are a match.”

“This has nothing to do with Anna Louise,”

Elizabeth said sharply.

“Perhaps not, but do you know what that doll represents? According to a book I have on the voodoo culture, it is a terrible curse. It is, Mrs. Caley, a death doll.”

Lorraine flicked through one of the handbooks Rosie had bought from the museum. She found the page and pressed the book further open.

“

Tut hair of the person you want to affect in the side of the doll, use black pin where you wish to induce pain,’ you will see a diagram

“

“No, I don’t want to see ittake it away from me, please.”

Lorraine closed the book.

“This might have no connection to Anna Louise, but on the other hand, I must”

“Stop this right now, and do not for pity’s sake show the Browns anything so repellent. It is just appalling that you should even think that poor little Tilda would have”

“She wouldn’t have made the doll for herself. Somebody must have made it and given it to her. Maybe whoever did is guilty of manslaughter at the very least!”

“No, she committed suicide.”

“I know that, Mrs. Caley, but Tilda was Anna Louise’s best friend, and I am simply trying to ascertain if they played around, went to any ceremonies.”

“No, absolutely not. No.”

“But you are very close to Juda Salina, at one time a high priestess, as was her sister. Edith Corbello is apparently less active now, but still runs a spiritualist group and a practice similar to her sister’s in LA. Juda Salina doesn’t mention the voodoo connection, but hands out leaflets to her clients advertising that she Js a psychic medium, reads tarot cards, specializes in trances and hypnotism, spiritualism and … voodoo. I have a copy of her leaflet”

“No, I do not know anything about this.”

“But as Anna Louise went to Mrs. Salina on a number of occasions with you, might she not have seen this? And being young and impressionable she may have started messing around with the occult.”

Elizabeth pushed her chair back, scraping the beautiful antique rug.

“I do not want to repeat myself, Mrs. Page, but this has gone far enough. I do not wish to discuss this element in any way whatsoever. In fact, if you believe Anna is dead, then I see no point in your continuing