Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (4 page)

D
iana
plopped onto the sofa when she got home. Seeing Keys dead had taken too much out of her, and the image of the dead guy with the silver eyes stripped whatever energy remained. She wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over her head, and that’s exactly what she planned to do.

The one load of laundry she’d started before Lucier called sat wet in the washing machine. There were things she needed to do, and she didn’t feel like doing any of them. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in a week, hadn’t emailed them either. The last time she checked, a few emails awaited, but she hadn’t been in a mind to tackle them, especially the one from her father. If she read it, she’d have to call, and talking to Galen, who still tried to lure her back into performing, would drain her of any energy she had left. Not to mention his disdain for her “nigra” boyfriend. Not this afternoon, she decided. Maybe later.

Her head pounded. She put the wash in the dryer, tossed in a fabric softener sheet, downed a couple of aspirin, and crawled into bed.

* * * * *

O
n the
way back to his office, Lucier thought about Moran’s last job for the department. The leaks involved every district, and Moran obviously hadn’t found the source, or it wouldn’t still be a priority. Maybe the leaker was afraid Moran was getting close. Was that enough to murder someone? Ha! Murders had been committed for far less. Right now, Lucier bet Moran’s death resulted from a lover’s quarrel.

He parked his car and headed inside, passing Halloran, Cash, and Beecher in the squad room on the way to his office. “Find anything out in Moran’s neighborhood, Mickey?”

“His neighbors liked Moran and were pretty shook up. He apparently had a lot of friends over on the nights he didn’t work at Miss Kitty’s. One neighbor played cards with them. He didn’t think they were boyfriends, just card-playing buddies. Also nice guys, he said. I got what he could remember of their names. Nothing I recognized, but we’ll check them out. No one saw him with anyone in particular. They did see him with a woman occasionally. Black, attractive. Beecher can tell you more.”

“Sam?”

“The woman works at Kitty’s. Someone said Moran teetered between two worlds. Straight and gay. One of his buddies said he was bisexual. But you know what they say: if you boink your own sex, you’re gay, no matter you boink the opposite sex. Anyway, he favored guys. That’s what his friend said.”

Leave it to Beecher to be Beecher
. “Any known lovers?” Lucier asked.

“Not openly. He wasn’t in the closet, but he wasn’t out there either, except in his act.”

“Keep digging, and find out who the woman from Kitty’s is.”

Willy Cash looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.

“What’cha got on our tattooed victim, Willy?”

“Thought you’d never ask. Mendez said the chain and padlock tattoo belongs to a new gang called, are you ready? The Chain Gang. You had to do time to belong, even if it was juvie. The minute he told me, I remembered one of the gang members walked a couple of years ago on a rape charge because the judge ruled it was the eleven-year-old girl’s fault for enticing him.”

“Asshole judge,” Beecher mumbled. “Protests outside the courthouse went on for days. Considered going there myself, then changed my mind.”

“I remember,” Lucier said. “Judge should’ve been removed from the bench. Got a picture of the gangbanger?”

“Yup, and you’re going to like it.” Cash handed a mug shot to Lucier. “What do you think?”

Lucier studied the picture. “Multiracial, mid-twenties, with eyes that glow from the photo. Can’t see his arm, but the tattoo’s listed in his description. Fits Diana’s description exactly. If he’s the same guy who raped the girl, someone did the city a favor.”

“He’s the guy, all right,” Cash said. “You think this is a vigilante killing?”

“No telling. Got an address?”

“Yup. Want me to track him down?”

“Wait until Diana gets here to confirm he’s the same guy.”

“Right,” Cash said.

He went into his office and called Diana. Her groggy voice set him on alert. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Taking a nap.”

“Sorry I woke you, but I think Cash found your victim. Looks exactly how you described him, tattoo and all. You up for coming to the station?”

“Give me an hour. I’m a mess.”

“Take your time. I still have work to do. Oh, and dress for an evening out. After you check out the photo, we’ll hit Kitty’s Kabaret for a drink and some music, then have dinner.”

“And a little snooping?”

“What do you think?”

“
W
ow
, Ms. Racine, you’re da bomb,” Willy Cash said when Diana entered the office. “You performing somewhere tonight?”

Diana laughed. “No, Willy, no more performing for me. After I check the picture you found, the lieutenant is taking me out for a little fun and then to dinner after.”

“He better not let you out of his sight or someone might snatch you away.”

She remembered the time someone did snatch her. Cash’s face flushed the color of watermelon. He remembered too.

“Um, I mean ―”

“I know what you mean. Don’t worry, I won’t let your boss out of
my
sight.”

Lucier joined them. “What’s this?”

“Nothing. Your detective was telling me I looked smashing and that you were a lucky guy.” She winked at Cash, whose cheeks had faded to pale pink.

“Right you are, Willy.” Lucier took Diana by the arm. “Come in the office.”

“Yes, lord and master.”

Lucier snorted. Beecher laughed out loud as he and Cash followed them in.

Slipping the photo from a folder, Lucier said, “Is this the guy?”

The man in the mug shot stared at her with eyes the color of silver. She lowered herself into the chair, weakened by the same static face of the dead man in her vision. “Yes, without the bullet hole in his forehead.”

“Mathieu Soulé. Twenty-three. Spent time in juvie for breaking and entering. He was accused of approaching a teenager in a lewd manner, but she wouldn’t press charges. She should have, because two years ago he was arrested for raping an eleven-year-old girl. A rape kit backed up her story, but the judge threw out the case, saying she asked for it because of what she was wearing.”

Diana swiveled to search Lucier’s face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I were.”

“My God. What kind of judge ―”

“A very bad one,” Beecher said.

“Should’ve bumped off the judge too,” Diana muttered.

Lucier narrowed his eyes. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Come on. Bet you thought the same thing.”

Lucier’s cheeks flushed.

“I knew it. You did.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cash said, “because I followed up on this, and shortly after the trial, the judge disappeared. No one’s heard from him since.”

“Why didn’t I remember that?”

“I missed it too, Ernie,” Beecher said.

“Sounds like someone took them both out as a kind of payback,” Cash said, “and with a great deal of patience. Two years worth. Soulé for the rape and the judge for letting him off.”

“Backlash,” Beecher said. “They dealt with the judge right away. Waited for the kid.”

“There are consequences for one’s actions,” Lucier said.

“Or inactions.” Diana saw the men in the room staring at her. “Well, the judge did nothing. That’s inaction in my book.”

“Theories abound,” Cash said, “like the judge disappeared because his pending divorce would have cost him a fortune, but his bank account hasn’t been touched. Wife got everything. The DA couldn’t pin anything on her though.”

“What about the girl’s family?” Beecher asked.

“Dunno,” Cash said.

“If it weren’t for the judge disappearing, it could be gang-related. But the avenger, righting a miscarriage of justice, seems more plausible by the minute. If so, he’s committed murder.”

“How’s Soulé figure with Chenault?” Cash asked.

“Dunno, but there’s a connection somewhere. Cash, you and Halloran follow up on Soulé in the morning. Remember, Diana is the only one who’s seen him dead. We’ve no body, and no one’s reported him missing, so tread lightly. Track down gang members. One of them might know something. Beecher, go to the girl’s house to see if anyone had a big enough grudge and the balls to kill Soulé. Cross your fingers we get lucky.”

“Right, boss,” Cash said. “First thing tomorrow. Until then, you guys enjoy yourselves.”

“We will, thanks.”

“Just because you can’t find the body doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Diana said as they left the building. “If I saw what I saw, and I did, wouldn’t his corpse have turned up by now? And how was Keys involved?”

“He might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And remember, if the judge is dead, his body is missing too. So far, my love, we have more questions than answers.”

“What if you get something of Soulé’s and let me ―”

“Not until I get a better handle on what we’ve got here.”

“Come on, Ernie. Finding the lost and missing is what made me the famous kid psychic.”

Lucier stared at her for a long time. “I’ll think about it.”

“What’s to think? You get something of Soulé’s; I see if it tells me anything. What could be simpler?”

“Not simpler. More complicated. I don’t want to put you in the crosshairs.”

“Then we keep my part a secret. Don’t even tell your team.”

“Can’t do that. I’ll have to get permission from his mother, the only person listed as family, since there’s no evidence of a crime.”

“Soulé’s body is evidence. He’s dead. I know he’s dead.”

As they walked toward their destination in the French Quarter, Lucier put his phone on speaker and dialed. “Sam, when you’re out tomorrow, track down Soulé’s mother and get her permission to obtain an article of clothing from her son’s room.”

“Woo-hoo. Diana’s gonna ―”

“And keep this quiet. I don’t want the whole district to know what we’re doing. I’ll tell the rest of the team, but that’s all. I won’t even tell the captain right now. Diana’s cleared for consulting, and that’s what she’s going to do. Consult. Her way.”

“No one will find out from me,” Beecher said and clicked off.

“You can’t investigate a death without a body,” Diana said.

“I know, but I hate to use you.”

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, hands on her hips, and faced him. “You’re not using me. Believe me, if I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Okay. First, let’s see if Soulé’s mother gives Sam something for you to work with tomorrow morning. But right now, we’re going to Kitty’s Kabaret for drinks and information. At eight, we have a reservation at The French Table.”

“Oh, classy tonight, huh, Lieutenant?”

“Classy dinner with a classy lady.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. “You really are coming along nicely.”

W
alking
from the police district in the French Quarter, Lucier and Diana sauntered past a dozen fun shops and eateries almost to the end of Pirates Alley and the entrance to Kitty’s Kabaret. A gorgeous dark-skinned woman with a body to die for greeted them at the door. Diana felt like a child next to the statuesque beauty.

“Lieutenant, I rather expected you sometime today. You’re looking mighty spiffy, for a cop.”

“Nice to see you too, Miss Kitty. Love the dress.”

“This old thing? If you like it, I wore it just for you.” She turned to Diana. “And you must be Diana Racine. My little club is honored.”

“Thanks,” Diana said. “How did I miss coming here? Looks like a fun place.”

“It is. Come on in. A drink for both of you, on the house.”

“I’ll pay,” Lucier said. “I don’t want you to think I’m on the take, especially when I’m here partly on business.”

“Suit yourself.” She waved over another tall, gorgeous woman and said, “Table twenty.” Turning to Lucier, “We’ll have some privacy. Meanwhile, enjoy the music. We’re mourning the loss of Keys, so it isn’t as raucous as usual. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

The second woman directed them to a quiet table off to the side but with a perfect view of the combo playing jazz on the small stage. Lucier ordered an Abita Amber, Diana scotch and soda.

“Diluting your scotch?”

“I know, and I hate it. This way I won’t drink as much. I told you I was going to cut back, and I have.”

“You can fool yourself, but you’re drinking the same amount of scotch. I’m proud of you anyway.”

“Okay, you got me. The drink lasts longer, so I only have one.”

“I’m not monitoring you, Diana. How much you drink or don’t drink is your decision. Always has been. You’re a big girl.”

“Thank you, darling.” She scoped out the bar. “Interesting crowd. Kitty is some dish. You two ever have anything going?”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, kinda. Why?”

“Kitty ain’t a she. Neither is the woman who seated us.”

Diana turned so fast, her hair flipped onto her shoulder. Kitty was looking straight at her with a shit-eating grin. Diana pivoted around just as fast.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You, who’ve worked Vegas? I thought you’d know immediately.”

Diana had worked clubs around the world, seen it all from an early age. She remembered the first time she’d seen transvestites and transsexuals in Thailand. She couldn’t believe how beautiful and delicate they were. Definitely more female in stature than tall Miss Kitty, who had to be close to six feet. “I usually can. There are always telltale signs, the Adam’s apple for one. I guess she’s gone through some surgery.”

“Don’t know. Won’t ask.”

“And here I thought she was making a pass at you.”

“Oh, she’s hit on me and a lot of guys to get their reaction. A miracle someone hasn’t punched out her lights when they found out she’s not a she. Well, she is, in a way.”

Diana thought Lucier’s confusion about Miss Kitty rather charming.

Their drinks came, brought by the second gorgeous woman, who winked at Lucier. When she left, a small, mixed-race guy dressed like either a pimp or a gangster sat down across the table from Diana. At least she thought he was a guy. Diana decided he was wearing more of a costume depicting the saloon-like theme of the bar rather than what he’d wear after hours.

“Business or pleasure, Lieutenant, or shouldn’t I ask?”

“Both. Emile Gaudet, this is ―”

“Diana Racine,” Gaudet said. “I’m honored to have you in my club, madame.”

“The pleasure’s mine.”

“Emile and Miss Kitty are partners, in business and in life. Isn’t that right, Emile?”

“Correct.” He cast his gaze at Miss Kitty, greeting someone at the door, now with a cosmopolitan in her hand. He turned to Diana. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

Diana glanced at Miss Kitty’s backless gown. Backless to the crack in her ass, with skin as smooth and hairless as a newborn’s. “She makes me feel like a boy.”

Emile exploded with a deep belly laugh, shaking the table and the drinks on top. “I heard you could be irreverent to your audience. Now I believe it.”

Lucier’s smirk at Diana faded quickly.

“Tell me about Keys, Emile. Who’d want to kill him?”

“I don’t know,” Emile said, “and that’s the God’s truth. We’re devastated here. Best damn piano player in the Quarter. Anywhere, maybe.”

“Lovers?”

“Keys was a private man, but Kitty and I think he had someone special. A cop.”

Lucier glanced at Diana. “What makes you think that?”

“A gray Crown Vic picked him up after his gig some nights. We get a lot of cops in here. Could’ve been a friend.”

“The night he was murdered?”

Emile scanned the club. “Don’t recall exactly. Might’ve been. I go out for a smoke most nights. Saw Keys get in the car on Royal. Dark night. Dark windows.”

Miss Kitty came over and pulled the empty chair nearer Emile. She waved at the waitress and circled the table with her burgundy-painted fingertip, indicating another round of drinks. “Now don’t say a word, Lieutenant. Nothing wrong with a friend buying you and your lady a drink.”

“As long as you remember it buys you nothing in return.”

“I know that. Word is you’re the straightest cop on the force, and I mean that both ways.”

“Yeah, dammit,” Emile said. “Always thought we’d make a great threesome.” Turning to Diana he said, “Unless you want to join in.”

Diana didn’t know if he was serious or not, so she smiled and said, “Thanks, but one guy is all I can handle. Three is way too many.”

“Who’s the third, honey?” Miss Kitty asked.

Blood rushed to Diana’s face until she burned major heat. “I mean, I ―”

“Probably best not to say anything else, sweetheart,” Lucier said. “You’ve already dug yourself in deep enough.”

Diana put on her best apologetic face. “Sorry, Miss Kitty. No offense.”

“None taken, I don’t think.” Kitty grinned.

“Emile was telling us about the car that picked up Keys the night he was murdered.” Lucier said.

Emile shook his head. “Now don’t go putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say it was that night. I just said it was a cop.”

“Who?” Lucier demanded.

“Emile didn’t see anyone, did you, honey?”

“I did. It was Denny Chenault. I know for a fact.”

Lucier sat up straighter. “Chenault?”

“Yeah, he’s been in here dozens of times. Loved to listen to Keys play.”

“But that’s all,” Miss Kitty said. “I never saw them interact much. Never liked that guy. Cocky SOB. Keys had better taste.”

“Were Chenault and Moran lovers?”

“That stud?” Kitty said.

Emile leaned in. “Like Kitty said, he never showed an interest in Keys, only his music. Chenault only hit on the female waitresses. We have a couple of straight ones working for us. He knew the others weren’t really women; he just joshed with them. A couple of times he came in with a woman, the real thing.”

“Watch it, Emile,” Miss Kitty warned.

“You know what I mean, honey.”

Miss Kitty smoothed her hair. “Appearances don’t mean much around here, Lieutenant. Who knows what people do behind closed doors.”

“I agree,” Lucier said. “Or Chenault and Moran could have been into something other than carnal pleasure.”

“There’s always that,” Miss Kitty said. “Whatever floats your boat.”

The second round of drinks came, along with a large appetizer of Cajun shrimp, plates, and mini forks.

“Oh, yum.” Diana picked up a fork and speared a shrimp. “Delicious. This may become my favorite place.”

“Maybe you could do a reading every now and then, honey,” Miss Kitty said.

Diana almost choked on her shrimp. “Um, I doubt that. I’m retired.”

“So are a lot of the musicians who come here to play.”

“Musicians never retire,” Emile said.

Miss Kitty pinky-fingered the corners of her mouth. “Psychics don’t either, or else you wouldn’t keep helping the police.”

Diana plucked another shrimp. “I never intended to consult with the police. One thing led to another.”

Emile put some more shrimp on Diana’s plate. “Fact is, cops come here for the music and the food. They don’t bother anyone, don’t mind the ambiance, if you get what I mean. Your Detective Beecher comes in with his wife. Now if that straight arrow enjoys our little club, can’t see why anyone would be bothered. Even your Captain Craven and a couple of the commanders drop in occasionally with a few of the brass.”

Miss Kitty leaned close to Lucier. “About every cop in New Orleans has passed through these doors.”

“Did Chenault ever come in with another cop?”

“Not that I remember, but you have to understand, I don’t follow the goings-on of my customers.”

Emile snorted.

Miss Kitty shot Emile a dirty look. “I don’t. The cops all talk when they get together. I
overhear
sometimes, but that’s all. I didn’t see Chenault super friendly with any of them. Saw him exchange words with Commander Lightner one time.”

“Angry words?” Lucier asked.

“No,” Miss Kitty said. “Secretive words. The commander kept looking around to see who was watching, like he didn’t want anyone to see them together.”

“But nothing buddy-buddy with Moran?” Lucier asked.

“Chenault admired his playing,” Emile said. “I never got the feeling there was anything personal.”

“Me either,” Miss Kitty said. “Maybe they went out for drinks together after Keys got off. No crime there.”

“What about the woman someone said Keys hung around with? Supposedly, she works here.”

“That’d be Maisie,” Kitty said. “She’s one of the straight ones. She and Keys were just friends.”

“Is she here?”

“Not tonight. She’ll be at his funeral. We all will. I’m closing down the club until the party we’re having for him after.”

“I’ll try to catch her there.”

“Can’t miss her,” Emile said. “She’s white and blonde. Tinier than Miss Diana.”

Diana listened while she snarfed down the plate of Cajun shrimp. “Did Keys have a locker here, someplace he stashed his things or changed clothes?”

Lucier smiled, added a wink.

“This is a small place. We have one tiny room in back,” Emile said. “Everyone uses it.”

Lucier sipped his drink. “Mind if we take a look?”

Miss Kitty and Emile exchanged glances.

“Maybe you should get a warrant,” Emile said.

Lucier nodded. “I can do that, and I’ll make sure we come during club hours.”

Emile shook his head. “You wouldn’t.”

“We have other employees,” Miss Kitty said. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble if you find something you shouldn’t.”

Diana saw Lucier go into thinking mode. She loved his methodical ways.

“I’m only interested in Moran,” Lucier said. “You search. I’ll watch. How’s that?”

Again, the two owners looked at each other.

“What are we looking for?” Emile said.

“We’ll know when we find it.”

“Come on,” Miss Kitty said.

Diana popped one more shrimp into her mouth before she followed Lucier.

“See if you get any vibes,” Lucier whispered to Diana as they entered the small room at the back of the club.

“Oh, like that won’t be obvious.”

They spent fifteen minutes while Miss Kitty and Emile searched every corner of the room. All they found were changes of clothes and one cupboard where the ladies’ purses held nothing but some money and cosmetics. The only thing they found of Moran’s was a hat he sometimes wore during his performances. Nothing tucked into the hatband or inside the lining. The hat held no secrets Diana could detect. She roamed the room, touching the clothes and the pocketbooks, even got close enough to touch Emile, who spun around, frowned, and moved away.

An image flashed across Diana’s eyes.
So that’s what he’s hiding.
Guilt was a strange emotion. One that allowed her to see a person’s secrets. She avoided looking at him, and when everyone was satisfied there was nothing, they returned to the Kabaret.

“We’d better be going,” Lucier said. “Thanks for being accommodating.”

“Would you have gotten a warrant, Lieutenant?” Miss Kitty asked. “Barged in with a forensic team during business hours?”

Hesitating for a brief moment, Lucier shrugged. “Probably not. From what I know about Moran, he was too smart to stash something in a room that everyone could access. I hoped you’d let us look.”

“That’s what I like about you,” Miss Kitty said. “You tell the truth.”

Laughing, Lucier cocked his head toward Diana. “Can’t lie with her around.”