Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (33 page)

J
ane
Craven’s eyes were red and swollen, and though Lucier had called earlier, she appeared surprised to see him.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Craven. I know this isn’t a good time, but ―”

“There’ll never be a good time, Lieutenant. How could there be?”

“You had no idea?” The minute he said the words, he regretted them.

Indignant, she said, “Do you think if I had I’d have let him continue?” Her voice rose. “Do you?”

“I’m sorry. Of course not.”

“My husband, the father of my children, is a serial killer. How does one ever accept that? How will my kids accept that? They’ll be ridiculed for the rest of their school years by their peers, and the emotional scars will be with them forever. I’m contemplating a move away from New Orleans to start over where no one knows the name of Jack Craven. Right now my main consideration is my children and how best to protect them.” She swiped a tissue at her damp eyes. “How could Jack do that to them?”

“I doubt he was thinking clearly. Men with fanatical missions rarely do. You knew about his daughter from his first marriage?”

“Of course I knew. He asked me never to mention her to anyone, and I didn’t.”

“This is an insensitive question, but how did he pay for her care? I know what captains make, and I never heard him mention a second job.”

“I work as a teacher. That took care of groceries, clothes for the family, bills, and such. Jack was smart with money. He invested wisely, bought small amounts of stock when he could, and built up a nice portfolio: Microsoft, Apple, stocks like that. He did very well.”

“I imagine so,” Lucier said, wishing he’d been as astute.

“He promised he’d pay for MaryAnn and for our kids’ education. The boys’ college money is safe in investments. We never wanted for anything. Now I found out he owns another house and car for his other life. I’m not sure what the future will bring, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”

“Did he mention anyone over the last few years that you didn’t know, a special friend or a cop he liked?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she focused on him with the most serious expression. “Just you, Lieutenant. He loved you like a son.”

Lucier swallowed.
A son he drugged into oblivion.

* * * * *

J
ack
Craven had been moved from the hospital in Slidell to Ochsner Medical Center in New Orleans. Internal Affairs had interrogated him but didn’t get any more information than Lucier had at the house on the canal. Maybe Craven would be more talkative now. Lucier had nothing to lose by giving his old boss one more opportunity to clarify some sticking points.

“Hello, Jack,” Lucier said upon entering Craven’s guarded room.

“Lieutenant. You’re looking better.”

“No thanks to you.” He turned the chair in the room to face Craven. “I’m still in shock.”

“When Zamora appointed you lead on the Moran case, I had a bad feeling. He wanted you for all the reasons I didn’t. Guess I was right.”

“Guess he was too,” Lucier said.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About the victims I’ve left behind. I never once thought about that. That probably says more about my character than anything. Oh, I’m not sorry I did what I did. Not at all. If they’d gotten what they deserved from the courts, there’d be the same amount of residual victims, except maybe the wife who has to care for her quadriplegic husband. I feel bad about that one. We should have made sure he died.”

The callousness of Craven’s statement left Lucier feeling sadder than he already did. The man was a sociopath with no real sense of remorse for the murders he’d either committed or ordered. “Do you feel bad about your wife and two sons? You’ve left an ugly legacy for them to overcome.”

“What’s done is done. We don’t get second chances, and even if we did, I wouldn’t change anything. Jane will suffer, recover, and down the line she’ll remarry. She’s a good woman, pretty too. The boys will be stronger, tougher. They have no reason to be ashamed. They did nothing wrong.”

Lucier thought back to his childhood, the son of a white mother and black father. He remembered the looks and whispers, even in a progressive place like Cambridge, Mass. Did that make him stronger? Maybe, but his father was a doctor, not a killer.

“And MaryAnn?”

Craven shot up in bed. “Leave her out of it. She’s the innocent in all this. I’ll miss Jane and the boys, but most of all I’ll miss seeing that bright, beautiful face on my visits. There’s not much innocence left, is there, Ernie? The hate and vitriol. The world’s an ugly place.”

“You ought to know.”

Craven lasered his stare at him. “My actions weren’t based on hate. They were based on justice.”

“Your justice, not the law of the land’s.”

“If my justice isn’t the law, it should be.”

Lucier didn’t see the point of arguing the matter. “MaryAnn will miss seeing you.”

“She never knew who I was, just a man who read her stories and gave her chocolate.” His eyes clouded over, and he looked away.

“Did you kill both Hodge and Michel that morning?”

“I won’t say anymore, Ernie. No specifics on who killed whom. Suffice to say people got what they deserved.”

“Did the cops you enlisted get what they deserved, or were they just collateral damage?”

“We’re done.”

Craven closed his eyes, and Lucier knew he’d get no more from his former boss. He headed for the door.

“Ernie. If you have time someday, go see her and read her a story. She loves chocolate, the dark kind.”

Lucier stopped and turned to see Craven’s eyes still closed. He left the room and strode down the corridor to the elevator, feeling a deep loss. Outside, the world seemed a little darker.

* * * * *

L
ucier
grabbed a bowl of soup at a sandwich shop near headquarters. The lunch wasn’t much, but he was glad he wanted something to fill his empty belly. He’d actually experienced hunger pangs.

Superintendent Peri Zamora greeted him like a long-lost friend. He even got up from behind his desk and put massive hands on Lucier’s shoulders.

“Good God, Lieutenant, what you’ve been through, I can’t imagine. How are you feeling?”

So Zamora knew about the drugs. Lucier supposed Rickett couldn’t keep the superintendent in the dark.

Zamora was a big man, taller than Lucier’s six-two and at least forty pounds heavier, maybe more. “Better, sir, thank you for asking.”

“Nothing will be on your record, you can be sure of that. Sit. We have a lot to discuss. Damn shame about Jack Craven. I’d always considered him a square shooter. Dependable and trustworthy. Goes to show you.”

“Makes you wonder if you know anyone, really.”

“This is a complicated case, Ernie. We have two federal agents who need to remain anonymous. One has a price on his head.”

“Walt?”

“Yes. Starr was so deep undercover and did so much damage to a major cartel, that Ralph Stallings told me there’s a standing contract out on him. I don’t know if Craven knows who he is; I hope not. I don’t want him to have Starr to trade. Rickett doesn’t have that kind of problem, but there are some people who’d love to know where he is.”

“Craven knows about Rickett.”

Zamora pinched his chin, thinking. “Then it’s to our advantage to make a deal with him. If we take him to trial, everything will come out, and lives will be put in danger.”

“He hasn’t been very accommodating, sir. I don’t know if he’ll go for a deal. He’d love nothing more than to make a public statement about the inadequacies of our judicial system and how money buys criminals an easy out.”

“I hate to say this, but I agree with him in principle if not in execution. If he gets his day in court, the public’s sympathy will be with him, especially if his attorney trots out his handicapped daughter.”

“I believe you’re right. But there are victims of his crimes too. Families left without a father, mothers without sons. The trial would be a circus.”

“If he hasn’t enough of an ethical code left to protect the undercover agents, let’s hope he’ll at least protect his family, but I’m not sure. This is not the Jack Craven I’ve known all these years.”

“Nor I,” Lucier said.

“Larry Kohl will be transferred out due to family circumstances. That should keep the tongues from wagging in the district. Meanwhile, he’s still here, still Rickett. He mentioned he might leave undercover work.”

“If so, I hope he can start a new life, if that’s what he wants. Undercover work is a lonely profession, not one where a man or woman can have a home and family. He’s good, very unlikeable at first.”

“You weren’t supposed to like him.” Zamora hesitated. “One other thing I’d like to run past you. Have you ever thought of taking the captain’s exam? There’s an opening, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have under your commander in your district.”

Lucier was speechless. “I, um, no. I mean, I thought maybe someday, but I hadn’t given it serious thought lately.”

“You don’t have to answer now, but think about my suggestion.”

“Thank you, Superintendent Zamora. I will.”

“And by the way, we found out how Jake Griffin was always one step ahead. He hired someone to follow you, not all the time, but whenever he thought you were on to something. Beside that guy, who is now scared out of his wits we’re going to throw him in jail for obstruction, which we could, we’ve fired a few people for leaking information. One was a dispatch operator and three others were secretaries ― Commander Lightner’s, one in Goizueta’s office, and Craven’s secretary, Lissie Howard.”

“Lissie? I’d never have guessed her. She’s always been so efficient.”

“She efficiently leaked everything she overheard, and Jake Griffin paid her a good sum for the information. There may be a few more in other districts, but Griffin isn’t talking. Considering those caught lost their jobs and could be brought up on charges, I doubt they’ll be active any time soon.”

“Good thing Mrs. Howard didn’t find out about Larry Kohl or Walt Starr.”

“Good thing the guy following you didn’t.”

“Isn’t there something we can do about Griffin?”

“Journalists have informants just like we do”

“Griffin? A journalist? My ass.”

The Consequence of Being Nosy

D
iana
served iced tea to Beecher, Rickett, and Walt at the kitchen table while Lucier shed his work clothes and took a quick shower. She felt good being home, to know Lucier was safe, and the danger had passed. “You’re in for a treat, Walt. We’re going to take you to Kitty’s Kabaret in Pirates Alley.”

“Kitty’s one of a kind,” Rickett said. “She and her partner, Emile, attract tourists and gawkers, plus the food is plentiful and delicious. And don’t forget, I’m still undercover as Rickett.”

“Friday nights the place is hopping too. I’ll introduce you as Cousin Walt from Macon,” Beecher said. He puffed out his belly. “We have matching physical characteristics too.”

Diana laughed. “Yours is looking a little slimmer, Sam. Been on a diet?”

He stuck out his tongue at her. “Hush. Adele is making me eat better, that’s all.”

“Sam’s on a diet,” she sang, and poked his tummy.

“Good for you, Sam,” Walt said. “I have to go on one myself.”

Beecher mumbled, “I’m not on a diet.”

“It’s great if you are,” Diana said. “Eating healthy is important.” She looked around. “By the way, where are Cash and Halloran?”

“They said they’d meet us at Kitty’s later. Mickey has to make nice with his wife for all the time he’s been working lately. He said he’d take her to Kitty’s, but she’s a bit of a prude, and, well, you know how things are there.”

Walt searched Beecher’s face. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see,” Beecher said. “Adele had her bridge group this evening, so she begged off. She loves Kitty’s.”

“Sounds great. Tell your man to hurry up, Diana. After a couple of days of hospital food, I’m ready for some good eating. I wouldn’t want to lose this nice belly.” Walt patted his stomach with a wink to Beecher. “It’s part of my disguise.”

“Ernie felt the same way about the hospital food, but he’s still not back to eating the way he should.” She’d been listening for the shower but never heard the water. “I’ll see what’s keeping him. Be right back.”

Diana went back to the bedroom to see Lucier sitting on the club chair, hair damp, but not from the shower. His body glistened with sweat. She knelt down in front of him, stroked the side of his face. “What’s the matter, love?”

“Nothing, just a little nausea and the sweats. Thought I was going to heave, but that passed.”

A wave of guilt hit her. He’d been through so much, and she was making him go out on the town. “We don’t have to go tonight. Rickett and Beecher can take Walt to Kitty’s.”

“No, I want to go. I just needed a minute.”

First guilt, now anger. “I could kill Jack Craven for what he did to you. I’d kill the others too if they weren’t already dead.”

Lucier aimed his cat eyes at her and kept them there without speaking for a long moment. “Have I told you recently that I love you?”

“Yes, but you probably wouldn’t remember.”

“I don’t, so I’ll tell you again. I love you, so you know.” He leaned over and placed his lips on hers. “You’re everything to me.” He got up. “I’ll be okay. Give me five.” He held out his hands to raise her to her feet. With one last kiss, he disappeared into the bathroom.

Diana, lost in the moment of his tenderness and loving words, plopped down on his vacated chair. The shower started. She boiled with anger. Could she really kill Craven? She had the chance and didn’t. She’d never felt about him like she did the rest of Lucier’s team. The captain had been aloof, all business. To find out he was a cold-hearted murderer was hard for all to accept.

“There,” he said, startling her out of her musings. “How’s this?”

She gave him the once-over. “Clean jeans, a polo shirt, and a shave. What more could a girl ask?”

* * * * *

P
ushing
into the crowd at Kitty’s Kabaret, Diana said, “What did we tell you, Walt? The place is jam-packed.”

“Some nifty-looking women here too,” he said.

Diana whispered in his ear.

“Huh? Really?” He stared at the waitress juggling a tray of drinks. “I’ve been out of action too long. Who’d’ve thunk?”

The waitress took their drink orders and trotted off. Within a few seconds, Kitty had her arm wrapped possessively around Lucier. “Where you been, handsome? Someone said you recuperating with a friend.”

Lucier flashed Diana a sheepish smile and disentangled himself. “Yup. I’m recovered now, so watch out.”

Kitty lowered her voice. “What you doing with that rat-bastard, racist-pig, Rickett? He hates our kind, you know that.”

“What kind are you talking about?” Lucier asked.

“You know what kind. The black kind. What, now that his partner is dead, he latches on to you? Better be careful, Mr. Lieutenant. Guys like him have an ulterior motive. Besides, I thought you hated him.”

“Rickett’s all right,” Lucier said.

The drinks appeared. Diana picked up hers, the first unadulterated scotch in months, and while Lucier bantered with Miss Kitty, she looked around to see if she knew anyone in the crowd.

“You gonna do some readings tonight, Diana?” a voice chimed over the din.

“No, just out for some fun.” She saw Commander Lightner and waved. He excused himself from his table companions and sauntered over. As had been his custom, he didn’t offer his hand. Instead, he gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement.

“Ms. Racine. Always a pleasure to see you. You sure know how to brighten up a place.”

“Do I? I always thought I made people nervous.”

“Not at all. You have a huge fan base.”

“Are you a fan, Commander? You’ve never accepted my hand in greeting.”

“Well, I’ll have to remedy that right now” Without taking his eyes off hers, he put out his hand.

She took it. Nothing happened. Not that something should. She shook hands with lots of people and never got an inkling of what they thought or felt. But she had been prepared to sense something from Lightner, mainly because he’d always refused to make contact.

“And did you see anything dark and nefarious from my touch?” He raised his brows in expectation. “A dead body, perhaps, or a stack of hundred dollar bills in my freezer?”

She laughed. “No. Should I have?”

“No, but you expected to.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“I’m an observer. I watch people, try to figure out their character.”

She sipped her drink, letting the iced liquor burn a pleasant route down her throat. The commander was teasing her. Okay, she’d play. “With all your observations, who presents a different persona to the public than they are in reality?”

“Hmm, take Rickett. I wouldn’t have guessed the lieutenant and Rickett would get along, yet there they are, buddy-buddy. So I’m thinking what he presents to the public isn’t how he really is. Am I right?”

She wondered if Lightner knew who Rickett really was. “I didn’t like him at first, but he’s not so bad. Maybe coming into a well-established district as an outsider forced him to put up a front.”

“Not a nice front, but Goizueta says he’s a good cop. That’s all we can ask for in a cop, isn’t it?”

Lightner was watching her, and something about his scrutiny made her uneasy.

He nodded at Lucier. “Your man isn’t feeling well, is he? Looks rather thin and haggard, if I may say so. His captain said he was on vacation. Taking some time to get over his wound.”

“He’s been recuperating at a friend’s house.”

“Strange when he has you to nurse him.”

How much did Lightner suspect, or know? Had the superintendent called a meeting of all the commanders and filled them in, or was Lightner fishing for information?

“He needed rest, and the doc thought I was too much of a distraction.”

Lightner leveled a penetrating gaze at her. “I understand that.” He smiled. “Lieutenant Lucier is one of the few cops in New Orleans that I’ve never doubted was straight and honest.” He snickered. “I would have put Jack Craven in that category, so that shows you how wrong I can be.”

“Ernie was shocked about Craven as well. Never in a million years would he have suspected him of being involved in a vigilante group.”

“Who could have? And killing his own members, to boot.”

Diana searched the club. People were looking at Lucier and at her. She surmised a few cops had heard rumors. About what, she wondered. Everyone knew Lucier worked under Craven. Did they know more? Had Lucier’s nightmare surfaced?

“Sad,” she said.

“We all have our weaknesses. For some, taking a few dollars or a few hundred thousand is too much to resist. But Lucier? If I offered him a bribe to look the other way at a crime I committed, he’d turn me in. Admirable. Very admirable.”

The turn of the conversation piqued Diana’s interest. “Have you committed a crime you’d want him to overlook?”

“Me? No, I’m too close to retirement to mess with my pension. Besides, I’m not clever enough to be a crook.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. “Who is?”

Lightner seemed surprised at the question. He checked the crowd, edged closer. “I see a few, but I won’t cast aspersions. Like I said, most everyone is capable of wrongdoing, and everyone has secrets.” He stared at her again, then said, “If you’ll excuse me, I must return to my table. My wife is the jealous sort. Though she’s smart enough to know a vivacious, young, and I stress young, woman like you with a stud for a boyfriend wouldn’t be interested in me.” This time his teasing smile accompanied a rascally twinkle in his eyes. “Would you?”

Was Lightner making a pass at her?
Why, you old goat.
She gathered her thoughts. She’d nip this in the bud. “My stud boyfriend wouldn’t approve.” She offered a cursory smile. “Nice talking to you, Commander. Have a good evening.”

She started to turn when Lightner, his red-veined face redder, said, “I hope you didn’t misconstrue anything I said.”

“Commander Lightner,” Lucier said, casually draping his arm over Diana’s shoulder. “Nice to see you.”

Lightner coughed. “Um, same here, Lucier. I was just having a delightful conversation with Ms. Racine. Sorry I kept her so long.”

“Not a problem. Excuse my interruption.” He turned to Diana. “We ordered the Cajun shrimp you like plus a few more appetizers, and they’re getting cold.”

“Please, go on,” Lightner said. “I was just heading back to my table.”

Lucier took Diana’s arm. “What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure. He bounced all over the place, from praising you to making a blanket judgment that all people are capable of committing crimes to hitting on me.”

Stopping, Lucier said, “Run that by me again. He hit on you?”

“Unless I don’t understand English, yes.”

He glanced over her head at Lightner’s retreating back. “Why that son of a ― I should set him straight right now.”

He started to pull away, and Diana grabbed his arm. “Calm down. I told him my stud boyfriend wouldn’t approve.”

“Damn right.”

“He got all kinds of embarrassed and was about to slink away when you arrived on the scene.”

“What is it with men in power? They think they can get away with anything.”

Diana thought of Craven. “They get caught in the end.”

Lucier glared back in Lightner’s direction. “Come on. Let’s eat. This is the first time in a while I can honestly say I’m starved.”

“I’ll be right there. Gonna find the ladies room first. Those Cajun shrimp are just as good cold.”

He pecked her on the temple and joined the others at the table.

Diana knew the restrooms were down the hall right past the employees’ room she and Lucier searched after Keys was murdered.

She found the one with a cat wearing a dress on the door and entered. She gasped in wonder. The décor was pure Kitty, with posters of cats all over the crimson walls, even inside the stalls. Cat paper towels, a cat soap dispenser, and Eartha Kitt purring out a song over the speaker.

As she came out, she glanced through the half-open door of the dressing room. Something caught her eye. She checked the hall. No one. She eased inside.

Boots. Hand-tooled leather boots, the same ones she saw in Alan Feldman’s transferred vision. She slipped deeper into the room and knelt down to examine them.

“Do you like my boots, Diana?”

Diana shot to her feet and whirled around to see Miss Kitty standing there with a small gun in one hand and a knife in the other down by her side. She patted her heart. “You scared me, Miss Kitty.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I saw your boots through the open door. Where on earth did you get them? I must have a pair. They’re quite distinctive.”

“Really?”

Diana’s mind worked overtime, her attention locked on the gun. “Did you think I was trying to steal them?”

“For your teeny, tiny feet? Hardly.”

“Then why are you pointing a gun at me? And what’s with the knife?”