Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (8 page)

“
W
hoa
, boy,” Lucier said. He quickly relayed Diana’s message to his team. “Keep looking for Chenault, Mickey, and the same with Alba, Willy. Pick them up when you find them. Make it official. I’m going to fill in the captain and then check out Diana’s computer.”

“Woo-hoo, a break in the case,” Beecher said.

Lucier snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and said on the way out, “Looks that way. I’d hoped I was wrong and cops weren’t involved in murder.”

Why would Chenault’s alibis refute him? And what did it mean if the photo came to him from Alba?
Nothing made sense.

The captain, about to enter his office carrying a cup of coffee, said, “What’s the hurry, Lieutenant?”

“Got a break in the Moran case, Captain. I wanted to talk to you before I went any further.”

“Come on in.”

Lucier took a chair and related what he’d learned to date, adding the news about the email forwarded to Diana from Moran, with the origins from Chenault and Alba. “Beecher and Cash are on the way to pick them up now, even though both of them seem to be off the grid at the moment.”

Craven nodded, sipped his coffee. “Sounds like the right move. Hate what this might mean. Chenault’s a good cop. A bit of a publicity hound, but his district captain praises his successes. So does Commander Lightner. Don’t know much about Alba. Why would Chenault kill Moran? What was their connection? And why would he involve other cops as alibis if he wasn’t sure they’d back him up?”

“Good questions. Maybe Alba, Feldman, and Hodge didn’t know they were covering up a murder and reneged when they found out. Loyalty has a limit, even with cops.”

After a long sigh, Craven said, “Murder is definitely a limit. Okay, see what’s on Ms. Racine’s computer, then bring it in to our tech department. Moran might have sent the email to someone else besides her.”

“I doubt he did. He sent it to Diana because he knew she’d get it to the police. Me.”

“Bring it in,” Craven said in a snappish tone.

“Sure. You bet.”

Lucier left, sorry he brought the info about Diana’s computer to the captain. Something about Hodge didn’t sit well with him. How many others were involved? Was Hodge? Could he have found something on Moran’s computer and erased it?
Am I off base entirely?

Fifteen minutes later, he parked in Diana’s driveway. She opened the door before he got out of the car and waited until he got closer.

“I’m glad you’re here. Why did Keys send me a photograph of a dead man? What does this mean, Ernie?”

“Show me.” He followed her through the small, compact house to the third bedroom/office. Like his, her office desk was neat, but then Diana had only her hospital visits to the children’s wards and a few charities to organize.

The photo Diana described of Mathieu Soulé, right down to the hole in his forehead, displayed on the screen, before the addition of the penis, which he decided not to mention. Lucier lowered himself into the chair.

“This is the exact image I saw when I touched Keys,” Diana said. “The same guy I identified at your office.”

“Moran had to be with Chenault to access his email, most likely on his phone. So Alba killed Soulé, then sent a picture of the body to Chenault. Why? A trophy? A job well done? From what Cash said, Alba is a bit on the dim side. Probably never thought anyone but Chenault would see this. Beecher is picking up Chenault now; Cash is tracking down Alba.”

“Oh, dear.” Diana plunked down on the daybed.

“You okay?”

“Tomorrow is Keys’s funeral, and he’s dead because he saw this photo.”

“Moran sent the photo to himself and blind copied the email to protect you, because he figured you’d show it to me. Chenault caught him and killed him.”

“Keys was a stickler for computer protection. He set up my computer. Jason added a few upgrades and was impressed with what Keys had done. I don’t understand. Why didn’t Chenault take the hard drive with him?”

“I questioned that myself. I would have, but if anyone heard the shots, he might get caught on the street with the computer of a dead man. Taking Moran’s cellphone was risky enough. I doubt the murder was premeditated.”

Lucier’s phone buzzed.

“Chenault didn’t show up for work today,” Beecher said. “Didn’t call in either. I’ve tried his cell. No answer.”

Lucier thought for a moment. “Have you checked his townhouse?”

“On my way there now.”

“Call me if he’s not there, and I’ll get a warrant, though I doubt we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

“What are we looking for?” Beecher asked.

“Chenault’s computer and phone. Moran’s phone too.” Lucier disconnected and punched in a number, waited. “Mickey, find a judge to issue a warrant to search Detective Denny Chenault’s townhouse. Tell him it’s a matter of life or death. Then rush the warrant to Beecher. He’ll be waiting.” He gave Halloran the address.

“Gotcha.”

“If Alba’s missing, tell Cash to get one for his place too. Keep what I said about Diana’s computer quiet. I don’t want the info going outside our group. The captain knows, but he’s the only one.”

“Gotcha again, boss.”

“You think something’s happened to those two, don’t you?” Diana asked.

Lucier stared at the monitor. “Chenault gave three cops as alibis. Two of them alibied each other and the third, Alba, is missing. That means Chenault has no alibi for the night Moran was murdered. Now Chenault is missing.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Right. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I don’t like it. The captain wants me to bring your computer to the tech department. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“The chief tech is one of Chenault’s alibis. He’s also the one who checked out Moran’s computer. If he’s involved, I don’t want him to know Keys sent the photo to you.”

“You’ll go against your captain? You’ve already told him.”

“I don’t know, but I’d rather not put my hunch out there until I’m sure I’m on the right track. If Chenault is on some kind of mission to right what he perceives to be a miscarriage of justice, he’s not in this alone. That’s if he’s still alive.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s not like a cop to be incommunicado this long, less likely two cops. So, yes, I do.”

* * * * *

L
ucier
took Diana’s computer to his house. He didn’t mention his doubts about Rudy Hodge to Craven. He’d say Diana refused to give him her computer. She had the right. Lucier didn’t have a warrant to take it from her.

When Lucier arrived back at the district, Beecher and Cash reported that neither Chenault nor Alba was home and neither of their beds had been slept in. They found no computers or phones in either living quarters.

T
he
next morning, Diana arrived with Lucier for Keys Moran’s funeral service at the small church he attended in the Bywater district and took seats in the back. Miss Kitty and Emile strutted down the aisle to sit up front. Miss Kitty, in a dignified black suit, still managed to look sexy.

How does she do that?

Emile accessorized his European chic, double-breasted navy suit with a white shirt, and dark red tie. The two club owners appeared amazingly conventional for two unconventional people.

“Lieutenant, Miss Racine.” Captain Craven walked up to them and held out his hand to Lucier. “I understand you wouldn’t let Lieutenant Lucier take your computer so our tech could look it over.”

“I’d rather not, Captain. I have personal emails from my clients. They expect a certain degree of privacy. If you insist, Jason Connors, the computer tech who handled my website, would be happy to check it out.”

“I could get a warrant,” Craven said.

“I suppose so, and I could get an attorney to safeguard my rights.”

Craven frowned, seemed genuinely surprised, but didn’t persist. “Just trying to protect you,” he said. He shot a disapproving glance at Lucier before continuing down the aisle to take a seat up front.

Lucier lifted one brow. “You’re tough. Craven wasn’t happy.”

“I wasn’t bluffing. Either way, I’d probably lose. Psychics don’t have the same rights as doctors and lawyers, but I doubt the NOPD would want the publicity.”

“They wouldn’t.”

They moved toward the middle of the row to allow a heavyset man in full uniform sit beside Lucier. “Commander Lightner,” Lucier acknowledged. “Good to see you. Have you met Diana Racine?”

Lightner bent forward and smiled at Diana. “Haven’t had the pleasure, ma’am.”

“The pleasure’s mine.” She noted the commander’s red-veined face, lively blue eyes, and toothy grin.

“How’re you doing, Lieutenant?” Lightner asked.

“Doing well, sir.”

Lightner returned to Diana. “I hear you’re acting as a consultant on the Moran case, Ms. Racine. If I were the guilty party, I’d stay as far away from you as possible.”

She wanted to ask him if that was why he didn’t extend his hand, but she didn’t want to embarrass Lucier. “If only people realized how imperfect I am.”

Lightner released a guttural chuckle, then turned his attention to the man who slid in beside him.

Lucier whispered into her ear, “You’re not imperfect to me.”

Blushing, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. Though not an overtly affectionate man in public, sometimes Lucier surprised her by saying something unexpected, like now. She was glad he didn’t throw compliments around too often, making the times he showered her with sweet words more special.

After listening to a hymn Diana didn’t recognize, the buzz in the parish house dimmed, and the minister took the pulpit.

“Donal Harwood, better known in New Orleans for his music as Keys Moran, was as decent a man as I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling a friend.”

The minister went on to praise Moran’s goodness and willingness to help their community, often playing the organ for Sunday services. He extended condolences to Moran’s many friends who had come to mourn him. The tribute sounded apropos to the kind man she’d befriended.

A few parish members got up and spoke, all praising the gentle soul they knew. Their words triggered a lump in Diana’s throat, and she found herself sniffling for the loss of an old friend.

Her life had been a steady stream of accomplishments and performances from the time she was a little girl, city after city until they all blurred together. Those she worked with over the years had become her friends and family both. Keys had been one of them.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Lucier said. He put his arm around her, and his comfort made the tears swell in her eyes.

“I feel guilty I never called him.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Things like that happen all the time. We get wrapped up in our lives and forget everything else. I’ve let people go too.”

“Thanks.” Lucier’s perfect comment lifted her mood. Life had a way of getting in the way of life. She thought the service was over, but Emile marched to the pulpit.

In a somber voice he said, “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Not a sound, not a breath, intruded on the silence in the chapel. “Keys Moran shared his kind heart throughout the city, visiting homeless shelters, donating not only his time but also his money. He once told me he was homeless himself as a boy, and it was a sin on humanity that in this great country anyone should be living on the streets. He gave pleasure to people in other ways, in his music and his teaching basic computer skills to kids in the neighborhood, never asking a dime for his time. We should all strive to be as good and generous as Keys Moran. He will be missed by all who knew him.

“After the service, we’ll be celebrating his life at Kitty’s Kabaret in Pirates Alley in the Quarter. There’ll be music and reminiscences by his friends, food and drink until we run out.” He took a dark red handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped a tear from his eye. “Amen, Keys. I hope we meet again ―” he raised his eyes to the heavens ― ”up there.”

Diana sniffed. “Amen.” Unashamed, she wiped tears from her cheeks. “He was a sweet man.” She gazed up at Lucier. “We must find his killer, Ernie. We must.”

“We will.” They filed out of their row and joined the others outside. He cocked his head to a woman leaving the chapel. “That’s Moran’s friend from Kitty’s. I recognize her, being the only white waitress. What’s her name? Maisie?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Commander Lightner approached.

“Think I’ll get to her now before we go to Kitty’s,” Lucier said. “Talk to Lightner for a minute.”

“Okay.”

Lucier, following Maisie’s departure, said, “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Lightner watched where Lucier was going, then turned back to Diana. “I’ve seen your act a couple of times, Ms. Racine. Quite enjoyable.”

“Thank you, sir.” This time she extended her hand.

The commander smiled and said, “Don’t take this personally, but I’d rather not give you a window into my soul. A man in my position holds many secrets, none of which concerns why you’re on the case. I’m sure you understand.”

“Again, you give me too much credit, but I respect your privacy.”

Lucier rejoined them with a shake of his head to Diana. “Any luck contacting Detective Chenault, sir?” he asked Lightner.

“No, and it’s not like him to be out of contact. Frankly, I expected to see him here this morning. He loved Moran’s talent. I’m glad you didn’t find foul play at his house. You had some questions for him, I understand. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Does seem strange that the two of them are incommunicado. Do you think their disappearances relate to Moran’s murder?”

“Too early to tell.”

Diana resisted making eye contact with Lucier.
Very coy, Ernie. You know damn well there’s a connection.

“I’ll keep you apprised,” Lightner said.

“And I’ll do the same.”

As the commander moved on, another cop tapped Lucier on the shoulder. “Sad day, Lieutenant,” the man said.

“Yes, it is. I never met Moran, but he and Diana were good friends. This is our brilliant tech, Rudy Hodge.”

Hodge put out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Surprised Hodge made the overture, she took his hand. “Same here.” If she expected any vibes, she was disappointed.

Captain Craven nodded to everyone when he joined them. “Tragic loss. I loved Moran’s performances. He’ll be missed.”

“I will too, Captain,” Hodge said.

“Sorry for your loss, Miss Racine. I know you and Moran were friends.”

Pleased the captain held no animosity after her refusal to release her computer, Diana said, “Thank you. He was a sweet, gentle man. I hope you find whoever killed him.”

“Since that’s up to the lieutenant, I’m sure the culprit will be brought to justice.”

“No pressure there, huh?” Lucier said.

“Not where you’re concerned. If you’ll excuse me, I see Commander Lightner up ahead. I need to speak with him.” Craven nodded to the group and hurried to catch up with the other man.

“I don’t envy you, Lieutenant,” Hodge said. “Looks like another big case.”

“Every murder is a big case. By the way, heard from either Denny Chenault or Anton Alba? I understand you play cards with them on occasion.”

“Yeah, I do. Why, are they missing?”

“I hoped you could tell me.”

“I have no idea; we just play cards. They’re both single. I’m married and only play when my wife lets me out of the house.”

“Well, if you happen to hear from either of them, have them contact me.”

“Sure will.”

“You going along with the procession?” Lucier asked.

“No, my kid’s got a soccer game. Take care, Lieutenant. Miss Racine.” He turned and headed toward the church parking lot.

Diana leaned into Lucier and said, “Is he the one you thought might be involved?”

“Yes. He certainly wasn’t afraid of you.”

“Jeez, I’m a pariah. No one wants to touch me. I never noticed it before because I touched people for a living. Now I’m an ordinary person, and no one wants to come near me.”

“You’re not ordinary. You are who you are.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Did you get anything from Maisie?”

“No. She hadn’t seen him since his last night at the club. She’s torn up.”

Musicians waited on the street dressed in everything from Sgt. Pepper-like uniforms to suits to Cajun comfy, ready to march alongside the horse-drawn carriage carrying Keys Moran’s coffin to the cemetery a few blocks away. The dirge, reflecting the somber occasion, kept in sync with the slow-moving procession. Diana and Lucier got in line.

The graveside sermon was short and sweet. As the casket was lowered into the grave, friends and musicians tossed remembrances on top. Diana dropped a monogrammed handkerchief, damp with her tears.

When the ceremony ended, the procession started up again. This time, the music rocked, with horns and drums and singers marching along to the upbeat tempo. Diana had heard about the funerals of New Orleans musicians but never thought she’d be a part of one. Emile and Miss Kitty disappeared after the service, probably to get things ready at Kitty’s Kabaret. Someone mentioned that all the Pirates Alley’s businesses were participating in the celebration.

Thank goodness she’d worn comfortable shoes for the trek to Kitty’s, because now the marchers were dancing and chanting Keys’s name. People lined the streets, cheering them on, lured into the frivolity, despite the occasion celebrated a dead man.

As they neared Pirates Alley, the sound of lively music signaled the festivities were already in full swing. Lucier took her by the hand and whirled her around to the beat of the music.

Laughing, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were such a good dancer.”

“Got the rhythm from Dad,” he said with a shake of his hips.

She laughed even more. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Hope so. Still got a few you don’t know about.”