Devil Dead (22 page)

“Then do it. I'm gonna put a call through to her parents and see exactly what Pierre Dubois is to her and why he followed her to Louisiana to get into an argument. You need to get on the phone with Jack Holliday and have him see if this guy flew home to Paris in the last week or so. He was the last person anybody at the restaurant saw her with, and they were arguing. Tell him to get any kind of surveillance tapes that he can, too.”

“Who is this Pierre?”

“Some guy who liked to come see her at the restaurant and jump all over her for working at such a sordid place. What time is it in Tahiti?”

“Doesn't matter what time it is. Call them. Jonas has been phoning me twice a day for news, sometimes more often than that.”

Suddenly Claire felt really excited about pursuing the new lead. Private work was not turning out so bad after all. In fact, other than aching feet, she was rather enjoying it. And Black didn't even mind that she was dressed like a gross and nasty-looking prostitute and frequenting crummy bars and dives with similarly attired girlfriends. Of course, he couldn't say much, even if he hated it worse than poison. After all, this P.I. stuff was his brilliant brainchild. No matter what she stooped to, he'd just have to live with it. But the Paris trip was certainly an option now. And the Frenchman was their best lead to date. Maybe Andrea was more than a regular college girl. Maybe she had some kind of serious trouble chasing her to New Orleans from Paris. Maybe she wasn't the angel everybody thought she was. That would certainly throw a wrench in the works, all right, but again, the case was getting more interesting every day, to be sure. And now she had Novak working with her. He could hold down the home front and continue investigating on his own if she had to go to Paris. Maybe, just maybe, things were beginning to fall into place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diana tried to forget the bleeding man named Frankie. She tried to forget what her mommy did to him. She wished Luna hadn't killed him. She wished Luna hadn't gone crazy and become evil. She wept hard when she was alone and was sure that Luna wouldn't find out. But when Luna was around, Diana did whatever she said. She was very afraid of her now. So when Luna wanted to pray, they'd pray in the Sanctuary, and when she wanted to hunt, they hunted and fished and stuffed the animals they caught so they could sell them.

And then Luna told Diana that she could never again talk to anybody but her. She could say nothing to anyone, not even the neighbor ladies who sometimes brought them food or the big man who lived down the road. Luna had begun to let him come visit them because he brought them groceries and comic books and magazines for Diana to read and sometimes he gave Luna some money, but he never stepped foot inside the house after that first time when Luna had invited him to supper. He never went anywhere near the barn or the Sanctuary or anywhere else on their property. He would climb up on the front porch but he didn't say much when he came by, and he didn't try to talk to Diana again because Luna had told him that she got upset if people talked to her.

So he just came and put the grocery sacks on the porch and looked pityingly at Diana, and then he went away again in his truck. Diana didn't care about him. It was getting where she didn't care about much at all. Luna had taught her to read, but it took a long time and the letters and the words were hard to remember. There were so many of them. She learned to write her name, first and last, and Luna was very proud of her for doing that. Diana was proud that she knew most of her letters, too, even if she had trouble pronouncing some words.

And she had learned to find better hiding places out in the swamp for when her mommy turned into Bad Luna and stormed around and screamed her name. Diana and Spirit would hide deep in the swamp until her mommy took the shot in her arm and went off to sleep. She would sleep a very long time, and Diana was glad. She still gave the little pills to Diana but Diana didn't take them anymore. She just threw them in the bayou when Luna wasn't looking. They made her sick and made her do terrible things that she didn't want to do. Most of all, she dreaded when Luna went down to the tavern, for fear that she would bring a new man home to sacrifice to Satan.

There came a day when Diana was sitting on the swing on the old oak tree in the side yard and twisting around and then letting go and letting it spin until she stopped, because it made her feel kind of dizzy and light-headed and she liked that feeling. That was the day when her whole world changed. Her mommy had caught a ride into a distant place called Houma with the lady up the road, so she could buy Diana a birthday present for the next day when she turned eighteen. So Diana was all alone and she pushed the swing lazily back and forth with her toe, daydreaming about what her birthday present might be. She hoped it would be her own private radio that she could take up to her room to listen to, one that played lots of fast music that she could dance around to. She didn't want any more sharp knives, or guns, or arrows to kill things with. She was sick and tired of killing things, like her mommy had killed that poor man Frankie. Luna had burned his body in their burn pit and shoveled all his ashes into a coffee can and thrown it far out into the bayou, and then she had acted like it had never happened. Diana wondered where he had come from and why Luna killed him and if she really was Satan walking the earth like she said she was. She was really evil now. Diana knew that for sure. But she hadn't killed anybody else since the night that Diana had first taken the drugs. At least, not that Diana knew about. So maybe it was over. Maybe she would never kill and sacrifice people ever again. Maybe she was back to being a good Wiccan instead.

Suddenly Spirit jumped up from where he was napping in the shade against the tree trunk and started up with some shrill and scared kind of barking. He was looking down the gravel road that led to the bayou road. She jerked her attention in that direction, and that's when she saw two people just walking right up to her house. They were almost to her now. It was a girl who looked to be older than Diana, and a boy who was probably pretty much older because he had some whiskers growing on his face. He was really cute, though, cuter than anyone she had ever seen. She just couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. He looked like all those handsome super heroes in her comic books.

Both of the other kids were dressed in flip-flops and long shorts and loose T-shirts that had a word written across the front in big red letters. It said T-U-L-A-N-E, whatever that meant. The girl's shirt was dark blue; the boy's was green and had a big kind of wave, or something on it. Diana grabbed Spirit's collar and held him back. He didn't like strangers to come up their road. He would attack them if they tried to hurt her, so she held on to him tightly. Luna would be so mad that they were there. She'd probably kill them like she had killed that man named Frankie.

“Well, hello there, good lookin',” the really, really cute guy said to her. “You live here?”

Very afraid now, Diana wasn't so sure what she should say. She had never spoken to anybody but the ladies up the bayou and the big man, and she hadn't talked to them in a long, long time. What if Luna found out? What if she shot them with her arrows? Or stuck her Bolin in their necks and made the blood spurt? So, after a little while, she just nodded and kept quiet.

“That dog bite?” the cute guy asked her.

She shook her head.

Then the girl smiled and said, “Hey, what's your name?”

Diana looked around, but no one else was about. Then she said, “Diana.”

“Well, hey there, Diana.” The boy glanced around at the house and the yard. “You live here by yourself?”

Diana shook her head.

“Well, hey, how 'bout you lettin' us swim down there?” He pointed off behind their house where the bayou widened and turned to the west. “Think that'd be all right? We saw that little dock thing of yours on the bank down that way. But I thought we better come up here and ask you first.”

“I guess. If you want to.” It seemed really strange to be talking to people, but Diana kind of liked it.

“Any gators out there, you know, the kind we need to worry about?”

“Gators are plumb everywhere around here. Just gotta be careful, and stuff.”

“How old are you?” the guy asked suddenly.

“Eighteen. Well, I'll be that old when tomorrow comes.”

“You look older. You're pretty damn hot, to tell you the truth.”

Diana didn't really know what that meant, so she didn't say anything. Just looked at him some more.

The girl started smiling at her, too. She looked around. “Sure is isolated way out here in the sticks.”

“What'd you do for fun?” asked the boy.

Diana thought about it a moment, and then she said, “I don't have fun.”

The two kids laughed at her.

“Well, I can see why,” said the girl.

“You live around here?” Diana asked, very curious about where they came from.

“No. We both go to Tulane, you know, over in New Orleans.”

“Never heard tell of that.”

They looked at each other. The guy said, “Really? You live so close. We just decided to come explorin' down this way and see what we could find. You know, it bein' the weekend and all that. No classes.”

“Yeah,” said the girl. “You wanna come down there with us?”

Diana hesitated, not sure about that. But she hadn't been with any kids before. Well, they looked to be older than her, but not a whole lot. She liked the way they looked. They were pretty and they smiled at her a lot, too. Luna never smiled anymore. All she wanted to do was kill things and drain out their blood. “I guess. Just until my mommy comes home.”

The guy laughed again. “Mommy? You still call her mommy?”

Diana felt her face grow hot. “Maybe I do. What do you call yours?”

“I don't call her, not unless I run outta money.”

He and the girl laughed at that. Diana didn't get what was so funny about it. But she thought the other girl was real nice. She was finding that she didn't really know what to say to them. And she wasn't supposed to be talking to anybody, anyway. So she just stayed quiet and let them say things.

“C'mon, then, let's check out the bayou. See if we can find a safe spot to swim and get some sun.”

“Okay. Not on that dock, though. Gators come in around there sometimes. There's another place that's better for wadin', and stuff.”

The boy lifted up six cans held together with plastic rings. “We got the refreshments right here, Diana. Plenty of Dixie beer. Enough for you, too.”

So Diana led them quite a ways down the bank and away from her house, far enough that Luna wouldn't see them if she came home early. Spirit padded along behind them, liking them, too, she guessed. If her mommy came back early, she'd chase the kids away. Maybe even kill them and sacrifice them, like she did to Frankie. Diana did not want them to go away yet, but she didn't want them to die, either. She just wanted to have some of that fun that they were talking about.

“This here is a spot where the water runs faster. I ain't never seen no gators here. Sometimes I get in to cool off when it gets real hot out. But you better keep a lookout, just in case I'm wrong.”

The boy stared at her. “Okay then, but you better be tellin' me the truth. I am fond of my two legs. Yes, I am.”

The girl laughed at the boy's joke, but Diana didn't even get it. She kind of smiled because she didn't want them to know she was dim witted. And alligators were serious business and so was getting your legs bit off. She'd seen plenty of deer and some dogs, too, with their bodies bitten right in two. Gators were not something she was gonna laugh about. Snakes, either. She never saw anybody swimming in the bayous. She sure didn't ever swim out in it. No way.

While Black tied up loose ends with his patients and the Hotel Crescent staff so he could make the trip to Europe sooner rather than later, Claire spent her time early the next morning trying to reach Andrea's parents by telephone. When they finally picked up, Jonas Quinn said, “Did you find her? Is she all right?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Quinn, but we haven't located your daughter yet. But we are exploring some encouraging leads. First off, have you heard anything? From Andrea or any of her friends? Any ransom note?”

“No, nothing, nothing, and her mother's just distraught. She can't get out of bed.”

“We're gonna find her. Do you have time to answer some questions?”

“Of course. Anything. Anything I can do to help. You can ask me anything.”

“Do you know a man named Pierre Dubois?”

“Yes, of course. I told you about him before. He's an old friend of Andi's. They were more than that for a while, you know, going out, but it never got too serious. I think she found out that he had a relationship with another girl. She did mention seeing him right before she left Paris for New Orleans.”

“We need to talk to him. He might know something that could help us.”

“As far as I know, he's still in Paris. Lives somewhere outside the city. I can give you his address and phone number over there.”

“Tell me, Mr. Quinn, what do you think of him? What kind of relationship did he have with your daughter? Would she have run off with him? Or returned to Paris to see him without telling anyone? Do you think they could've gotten back together?”

Silence for a few beats while he thought about it. “Why, I wouldn't think so. It always seemed to Abby and I that Pierre loved Andi dearly, you know, cared a lot about her, but more with friendship than romance. And Andi mentioned something about that other woman being involved. I think she would've liked them to be a couple, but he wasn't ready to settle down with one woman. I just don't know the details. Neither does Abigail. After you and Nicky left, I asked her about Andi's boyfriends.”

“I've found out that Pierre Dubois was here in New Orleans and last seen with Andrea. Is he a dangerous man, Mr. Quinn? Does he work for you?” That was about as tactful as she could make it when asking if Pierre was a member in good standing in Quinn's Gallic branch of gangster hoodlums.

“He might've had some dealings with my Paris associates at one time. And yes, he did work for me as my liaison there for a couple of years. That's how he met Andi.”

“Does he still work for you?”

“No. He quit that job, after we left the States and moved to Sydney.”

Aha. Another interesting tidbit. “Do you think this man could or would want to harm your daughter, Mr. Quinn?”

“Absolutely not. He adores Andi. He spoke of her as if she was his little sister. He was really against her leaving Paris on her own.”

“I see,” Claire said, but she didn't see, not yet. “Could you e-mail me a list of addresses for her friends and colleagues in Paris? I want to check out her school, her apartment, everything. Black and I are headed over there tomorrow.”

“Of course. I'll call and expedite all of that for you and Nicky. I keep a home there, as well. You can stay there if you like. Do you think she might have returned to our house for some reason and everything might be okay?”

Claire frowned. Not a chance in hell did she believe that, but there was such a thing as diplomacy and human consideration for one's grief. “It's a possibility, of course. But I have no proof that she returned to Europe yet. I'm just trying to cover all the bases. While I'm gone, the investigation here will continue. My colleague will be investigating any new friends or associates she has made here in New Orleans. We are making progress with that. It's just going to take some time.”

“You're talking about Will Novak, I assume?”

“Yes. I guess Black told you?”

“He did. But I have heard of him from other sources. He is said to be a superb investigator. I'm pleased he is helping us.”

“Okay, please e-mail me that information ASAP, if you would.” She gave him her e-mail address. “And please tell your wife that we're working very hard to find your daughter. Tell her that we have no reason yet to believe that we won't find her alive and well.”

A loud, resigned sigh came through the line. “Yes, thank you. I will tell her. I am very glad to hear you say that. You just don't know how glad.”

They hung up, and Claire remained seated at her desk. She stared out into the beautiful gardens and the beds of azaleas and the banana trees and palm trees and trimmed decorative hedges, and hoped to God that she hadn't given him false hope. She hoped Andrea was off with this Pierre friend of hers, down on the beaches of the Riviera, maybe, holding hands and drinking cocktails. If she was, Claire would find her there, but she still had her doubts about that. It was all a little bit too strange. Lots of peculiar strands to follow, true, but they were all too disparate to weave together into some kind of reasonable theory.

Checking her phone messages again, she decided that Novak had decided to sleep in because he hadn't shown up yet, and he wasn't answering his phone. She hoped he hadn't disappeared, too. Something told her, however, that he could take care of himself, no matter what was thrown at him, and she wasted no time worrying about him. Nobody would probably have the guts to attack him, anyway, considering his size and that massive intimidation factor of his. So, she dialed up her old LAPD partner, Harve Lester back at Lake of the Ozarks, and felt a little leap in her heart when she heard his familiar deep voice. She really loved the guy. He was like a father to her.

“Harve, it's me.”

“Hey, Claire. You back here, I hope?”

“Nope, we're still down in New Orleans.”

“You'd get your tail in gear and get up here, if you knew how much we all miss you. Bud was over here just last night, crying on my shoulder about you forgetting all about us.”

“You mean Brianna Swensen isn't keeping him occupied?” Brianna was her Missouri partner's main and only squeeze at the moment. She had recently come back into his life, and he absolutely doted on the woman. Bri was a buxom Swede with long blond hair and a knockout figure and was a nice girl, to boot, so why wouldn't he?

“He's on his way to Miami to see her as we speak. The guy's pretty far gone.”

Claire smiled. “Well, I miss you, too. We're coming up there for a weekend real soon, I promise, or you can just come down here. Black'll send the plane for you any time you want, just say the word. We have a ton of extra bedrooms that we never use. You can stay forever if you want to. We'd love it.”

“I will take you up on that. Maybe not the forever part, but I do like the winter weather in south Louisiana. It beats the blizzards we've been havin' around here.”

“Well, come on down, the sooner the better. Hey, Harve, you still interested in working for me now that I've gone private?”

“You bet. Sounds intriguing. You like it so far?”

“Yeah, I think so. Time will tell. How would you like to do some research on a case right now?”

“Any time, any place. Just say the word.”

“Only if I can put you on INTEL's payroll as our resident computer genius.”

Harve laughed. “Hey, I won't argue with that. What'd you need?”

“You still got that buddy that works at Interpol?”

“Sure do.”

“See if you can find out anything about a twenty-year-old girl named Andrea Quinn. Born in Chicago, lived in Paris and in Sydney and recently in New Orleans. Dad's a former Mafioso in the Chicago mob. Deported from the U.S. for criminal activities. Gunrunning, mainly. Mother's name is Abigail. Andrea's gone missing, and I'm trying to find her. First case for me, and it's turning into a doozy. I also want you to see what you can pull up on a French guy named Pierre Dubois. Also from Paris. In his twenties, too, I think. Pretty sketchy about him, though.”

“I'm on it. How's Nick?”

“He's good and getting ready to head off to his Paris clinic. I'm going with him this time because of a tie-in on this Quinn case. See if I can't run down this Dubois guy somewhere. The head cases are acting up in Black's clinic over there, which should keep him busy. Hey, Harve, something else? You know a guy named Will Novak?”

“Nick asked me to prepare a dossier on him. Just got started on it, though.”

“I know. What'd you have so far?”

“He's a private detective, and good at it. He's got some Australian connections, I think. His dad's family. Novak also worked NYPD. I can have all the dates for you by tomorrow.”

“He said he ended up in the Seals.”

“Wow, if that's the truth, those are some kind of impressive credentials. He gettin' in your way or somethin'?”

“Nope. I'm working with him until I get my private license. Black suggested him. I like him. He's good.”

“Could do worse, from everything I've seen so far. I'll get that dossier done and the other stuff you want and e-mail it to your phone.”

They talked at length, and the more they talked, the more Claire missed the guy. Maybe they needed to go back to the lake for the entire summer, which sounded damn good to her. Maybe even have the wedding there in Harve's private cove. They ended the conversation with Harve promising to come down soon, and then they hung up. Then, miraculously, Novak finally decided to show up and honked from out on the street. One short beep, which had become his calling card.

Claire took a moment to phone Black, and he told her to be safe and to duck and weave, which was their private joke about her taking care of herself. Then he said to keep Novak close and avoid scissors and slutty clothing. But he acted all relaxed and carefree, as if he'd been given a whole new lease on life since she had put down her homicide detective badge and started coming home at five o'clock and running off to Paris with him. The fact that she wasn't going down to Tit Tats today met with his approval as well. So his good mood continued, and so did hers. At least, for now.

“Good morning,” she said to Novak when she got into his truck.

He just grunted, which told her that he was not a morning person, probably not even a noon hour person. But he did have beignets and big cups of black coffee from Café Du Monde, so her own mood brightened considerably. A partner who brought her breakfast was okay in her book. Her other partners had never done that. Bud and Zee and Harve came to mind, but she loved them anyway. “Okay, I've got my guy researching Andrea's connections in France. I've been thinking this Pierre Dubois might be a person of interest so I'm going to Paris with Black to check him out and all Andrea's other friends and neighbors. Maybe she kept in touch with somebody.”

“Sounds like a plan. I'll keep digging here. How long are you gonna stay over there? Maybe Dubois had a hand in her daddy's former business.”

“Actually, he does, or did. Not sure which it is now, but Black found out from Holliday that Dubois's no longer in the States. He boarded a plane to Paris a week or so ago. First class, and with a young woman in the seat right beside him by the name of Sheila Pollento. Ever heard of her?”

“Can't say I have. But I've been thinking this through, and I'm pretty sure the Quinn girl's gotten herself mixed up in either drugs and/or a satanic cult. That bar the other night, Devil Dead, was pretty much on target for that theory. So were her pentagram tattoos that Carver told us about.”

“Not to mention the pentagram poster in her dorm room. But you could be right. Especially in these parts. I dealt with some of that on a case down here before. Voodoo crap. And that's some pretty creepy stuff, let me tell you.”

“I know all about voodoo and hoodoo, but I think Andrea got herself involved with a satanic cult. That's a lot different. I spent the morning poking around down around in Houma and Thibodaux and points south. My contacts are telling me that they've heard tell of some kind of cult, supposedly out my way in the bayous. Said rumors were it was a bunch of kids play-acting with animal sacrifices. Cats and dogs and the like.”

Claire turned and stared at him. “Well, that is just too gross. What contacts?”

“Just friends of mine. People who live down around my place.”

“Next time, I'd like to tag along. See what kind of neighbors you've got.”

“You're a pretty nosy lady, aren't you?”

“That's why they call me a detective. Are you sayin' you aren't into nosing around?”

“You got me there.” He hesitated, looking both ways before he headed up a ramp for I-10 West. “I've got a couple more people to talk to down my way. Want to tag along? Or are you due to go in at Tit Tats today?”

“I called in sick. Daddy wasn't the least bit pleased, didn't even call me sweet cakes or hot
tamale
. Guess he's bummed out and misses my frowny face. But it definitely made my day start out with a great big smile and comfortable baggy clothes, though, let me tell you. But as for going with you, you betcha. Make it happen.”

As Novak drove along, the silence deepened, as per usual, but that was okay. Claire used the time to think about the satanic angle and if that could really be a possibility. Stranger things had happened, especially nowadays with the big supernatural craze going on. Vampires, werewolves, demon hunters, shape shifters, just about anything non-human was the soup du jour. Hell, even Claire was obsessed with Sam and Dean Winchester. But they were cool dudes and gutsy as hell and always got their monster—well, almost always. She wished they were real guys and she'd invite them to Thanksgiving dinner with Black and her. Poor kids were orphans. She smiled at the idea of how that meal would go down.