Hallowed Bones (15 page)

She opened the taxi door and got in. She leaned forward to give the driver instructions, and then she was gone. I stood on the curb for a moment, watching the cab blend into the packed traffic. I understood Doreen's need for a family, but I questioned her timing. A brother wouldn't do her much good if she was in prison.

My watch showed only nine-thirty, so I drove back to the Eighth District. LeMont needed another good prod, and I also wanted to talk to Michael Anderson's main squeeze, the mounted patrolwoman, Ms. Zebrowski.

LeMont growled an acknowledgment as I sat down beside his desk.

"I need your help," I said, deciding on my very best Daddy's Girl manipulation.

"Go away." He didn't even look up at me.

"Detective, an innocent woman may spend the rest of her life in prison."

He looked up at that. "Doreen Mallory killed her baby. That's what the facts tell me and that's what I believe."

"What facts?"

"She was alone with the infant. There's no sign of a forced entry. She admits to giving the baby the bottle." He sighed. "We've been over all this, Ms. Delaney. Not even Ms. Mallory can think of another single suspect."

"What if the barbiturate was put in the bottle during the day, when Doreen was at the Center. Someone could have prepared that bottle long before she gave it to Rebekah."

He put down the file he was holding. "No one else had a key to the apartment."

"Doreen had trysts with several men in the past year. They've all been in her apartment. They all had as much, or more, motive than Doreen."

"How so?"

"Paternity."

He actually flinched. "That's the most cockamamie thing I've heard in at least two weeks."

"The men are very powerful." I didn't want to tell him and violate Doreen's request, but I was prepared to lay it on the line.

"What, she's slept with the mayor and the police chief and who else, maybe the President? Now, four years ago, I might have believed that!" He barked a laugh. "Get out of here and quit wasting my time." He lifted the file. "I've got fifty more of these waiting for me."

"Doreen could well be innocent!" I stood slowly. He wasn't even interested enough in Rebekah's paternity to ask who Doreen was sleeping with.

He bent over the file, dismissing me.

"Have you questioned the maid, Pearline Brewer?"

He didn't look up.

"Detective LeMont, the maid had ample opportunity to mix the barbiturate in the formula. If you've talked to her, I'd like to see that report."

"Pearline Brewer has been out of town since the baby's death." He spoke to the top of his desk.

"You haven't talked to her?" I was shocked and didn't bother to hide it. "Maybe that should be the next item on your very busy agenda."

"Beat it," he said.

I stormed away from him and stopped at the front desk. It took only a moment to discover that Trina Zebrowski was riding a beat on
Bourbon Street
for a blues funeral.

13

The funeral procession moved slowly
down Bourbon Street
,
led by the ancient black men who comprised the Excelsior Band. They played a dirge as they drew abreast of me, then followed it up with "When the Saints Go Marching In." By the time the procession was out of sight, the mourners, all holding colorful umbrellas and wearing Mardi Gras beads, were dancing behind the hearse. The cycle of life and death,
New Orleans
style.

Trina Zebrowski rode a heavy bay gelding. Horse and rider seemed unflappable as they pushed back the tourists who didn't realize that the funeral procession was real and not some theatrics provided for their entertainment. As she passed me, I made eye contact. Her blue eyes seemed shadowed with grief.

I'd already checked the funeral route, and I was standing at the gate of the cemetery when the procession arrived. Trina spotted me instantly. When her duties were complete, she rode over to me.

"You want to talk with me?" she asked, a hint of the
Midwest
still discernible.

"I do. I'm working for Doreen Mallory."

The most amazing smile touched her face, and for a split second I could have sworn she was only a child. "Please help Doreen. I know she didn't kill Rebekah. She loved that baby."

"I know," I said. I was finding it difficult to crane my head up; the horse was a handsome seventeen hands. "Could we talk somewhere?"

She laughed softly and slid from the saddle to the ground. To my surprise, she was only a little over five feet tall. Mounted, she'd appeared much bigger.

"Let's walk," she said, pointing to a broad shell path that led through the mausoleums. "We have to bury the dead above-ground, you know. We're below sea level here."

I walked beside her and let her talk as she led her horse. We were well out of range of the burial when I stopped. "If Doreen didn't kill her baby, who do you think did?"

"I can't imagine," she said. "We all loved that baby."

"I understand you were with Michael that night."

"Yes, I spent the night with him." She was looking at the ground as she walked, but her smile was that of a woman in love.

"What happened?"

She looked up at me, and once again she looked like an innocent child. "We went to sleep. We didn't wake up until the morning, when Doreen called."

"How did Michael react to the news?"

"He was concerned for Doreen, supportive. He cares about her."

"And Doreen? How did she sound?"

"She's the most wonderful person in the world. Even when she called to say that Rebekah was dead and the police were there, she was so calm. She thought that God had just called Rebekah home."

"And what do you think?"

Trina frowned. "I don't know. Detective LeMont says Rebekah was murdered, but I know Doreen didn't do it." She hesitated. "Maybe this is a trial God has sent to Doreen, like the people in the Bible. God does that a lot, you know."

I started to say that I thought such a God was pretty awful, but she spoke again.

"God sent me a test. Doreen helped me pass it. She saved my life."

"Tell me about it."

"I grew up in
Oklahoma
, on a farm. I hated it. My parents were so... repressed. Anyway, about three years ago I moved here to
New Orleans
. I wanted to be a singer, but there are just so many musicians here. Anyway, I ended up really sick. I had a tumor on my spine."

"You had a medical doctor diagnose this?" I'd heard that Doreen had cured Trina's tumor, but I wanted proof that there had actually been one.

"Yes, at Oschner's Clinic. It was a fast-growing cancer. They told me I had maybe three months before I'd be paralyzed." She stopped talking and started walking faster. The horse, so well behaved, followed behind her on a loose rein.

I caught up with her. "So, what happened?"

"Doreen bought the building where I was living. At first I was totally disgusted with her. I'd go to the Square and watch her read for people and then touch them. I figured she was the biggest charlatan around."

"And?" I prompted.

"I saw her in the courtyard one day, planting some flowers. I was so angry. I could feel the tumor growing on my spine, pushing on the spinal cord. I knew I'd be in a wheelchair in a matter of days. And there she was, gardening, living the life I wanted. I just lit into her."

"You struck her?"

Trina shook her head, "No, but I started cursing her. I told her how unfair it was that I was dying and she was stealing money from people. I'd never done anything bad to anyone."

"What did she say?"

"She just stood up really slow and she asked me if I'd like some tea. She went inside her apartment, and she came down with two glasses of iced tea. When she handed me my glass, she touched me. And she looked right into my eyes, and she said, 'The tumor will begin to shrink now.' "

"Did it?"

"My next doctor's appointment, they were amazed. It was half the size. And the next visit, it was gone."

"How long ago was that?"

"About a year ago."

"And now?"

"I'm cancer-free."

I almost touched her. She seemed filled with a strange light. Her blue eyes held a sparkling translucence. "You believe Doreen healed you?"

Trina's smile made tears start in my eyes. "She says she didn't. She says I healed myself, with help from the Divine. The Divine can be God, or gods, or angels. It doesn't matter what you call it, because it's all love." Trina smiled at my skeptical look. "Doreen said I had a contract with the Divine. It was his choice to heal me, but I opened myself to the possibility. I'll tell you, I changed my life. I started taking riding lessons for police work. I'd ridden all my life on the farm, but I'm small. I never thought I could get a job with the police force. But Doreen thought of the mounted unit. Now I have my job, my horse, and Michael. Since that day when Doreen touched me, my life has steadily gotten better and better."

"Would you mind if I spoke with your doctors at Oschner's?"

Her laughter rang against the marble tombs. "Help yourself. In fact, when I get back to the District, I'll call Dr. Walsh and tell him to cooperate with you in every way."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She circled around and we started back to the gate. The funeral procession was leaving. All of the joy that the band had created was gone. Women were softly weeping as they slowly walked through the tombs.

"Who died?"

"Able
Macon
. He was a fine trumpet player."

We reached the gate in silence. Instinctively I turned to offer Trina a leg up. She was short and the horse was big.

"I've got it," she said, hiking her left foot almost to her chin to put it in the stirrup. With a smooth motion she vaulted onto the saddle. "I have to be able to mount on my own. Police regulations!" Her smile slowly faded. "Can you help Doreen?"

"I hope so," I said. "Just out of curiosity, what time did you and Michael go to sleep?"

She thought a moment. "We had dinner at Port-O-Call, and we went back to his place."

"Where is Michael's place?" I asked.

"He's down on
Barren Street
, almost at the end."

I calculated the distance in my head. It could be walked in twenty minutes, jogged in ten.

"I guess we went to sleep around ten. I have to be at work at seven, so I'm not a night owl." She gave a soft chuckle. "Too many years of living on a farm, I guess."

"And you slept through the night."

"It was the best night's sleep I've had in months. Once I was out, I didn't wake until the alarm went off at six."

"And Michael?"

"He was right beside me."

"He's a sound sleeper, too, huh?"

"Like the dead. I'm normally the one who wakes up all through the night."

"So you would have awakened if he got up?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything, Trina. I just have to check out every angle."

"Why would Michael hurt Rebekah? He loved her. He loves Doreen. He'd never do anything to hurt either of them."

Trina wasn't privy to Michael's affair with Doreen, or the fact that he might be Rebekah's father. I wasn't about to tell her, either. I gave a crooked smile. "I'm only doing my job."

Her eyes narrowed, lightning flashing in the depths. "Maybe Doreen needs a local PI. Sister Mary Magdalen may not be the best person to pick out a detective."

"Trina, I'm only doing my job. Don't take it personally."

"I'll talk to Doreen myself," she said, closing her legs on the horse. She trotted out of the cemetery and down the street.

I'd hurt her, and from her point of view, it was without cause.

My cell phone rang and I dug it out of my purse with a sense of relief. Tinkie's timing was perfect.

"Tinkle!" I said.

"Miss Sarah Booth?"

The voice was older and confused. It took me a moment to recognize Mollie.

"It's me," I said. "Are you okay?"

"More than okay. But I need you back in Zinnia. I can't go any further on the dress until you try it on."

"You need me now?"

"Right this minute. The hem on this dress is a mile long and it's gonna take some fine hand-stitching."

I could hear Mollie's excitement. The dress was going to be a knockout!

"I'll try to get home this evening," I said. "I'll give you a call when I get to Zinnia."

"Hurry up, girl. This is gonna be the dress that gets you a husband." She hung up before I could argue with her.

I dialed Tinkie's number and counted five rings before she answered. "Meet me for lunch at Jonathan's," she said. "I have news."