Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (9 page)

L
ucier
held Diana close as they danced their way down Pirates Alley and inside the door of Kitty’s Kabaret. He twirled her around, and she threw her head back and laughed. The club was jammed with people singing and eating and telling stories about Keys Moran. Music pulsed from the small stage. Beecher and his wife came in right after they did.

“I didn’t see you at the funeral, Sam,” Lucier said.

“We ducked out right after the service. The long trek to the cemetery is for young people, not old farts like us.” He tugged at Diana’s arm. “You ever meet my wife?”

“No. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beecher,” Diana said, smiling at the plump woman dressed in her Sunday best.

“Call me Adele.” She glared at her husband. “Or old fart.”

Beecher blushed and stuttered something under his breath that sounded remotely like an apology.

“Sam’s told me so much about you, I feel I know you already,” Adele Beecher said.

Beecher stiffened, and Lucier held his breath, anticipating Diana’s response.

“Call me Diana. I bet your husband gave you an earful about me when I first arrived on the scene.”

“About your being a phony? He grumbled in the beginning, but he changed his mind pretty quick. Sam’s a cynic. He thinks the world of you now.”

“That right?” Diana asked her former nemesis.

Beecher’s cheeks flamed. “Yup. Of all the psychics in my life, you’re my favorite.”

Diana laughed.

Beecher moved into Lucier and spoke in a whisper. “Cash said there’s still no trace of Chenault or Alba. I don’t like the feeling I’m getting. What do you think?”

“Something happened to them.”

“Like they’re dead?”

“Uh-huh. Whoever else is involved in carrying out their special brand of justice isn’t sure who Moran emailed. Even if Chenault’s and Alba’s name are on Diana’s email, they can’t rat out their partners if they’re dead, can they?”

“If you’re right, what do we do now?” Beecher said.

Lucier watched Diana charm Adele Beecher the same way she charmed audiences the world over. “We wait.”

“Wait? For what?”

Lucier shrugged. “A break in the case.”

“What about Diana doing the same thing she did with Soulé? It worked once.”

“What did we do before she came along?”

“We waited for a break in the case that sometimes never came. We have a secret weapon. Why not use it.”

“Her, Sam. Not it.”

“You know what I mean.”

Lucier knew exactly what Beecher meant, and he kept coming to the same conclusion. He was no different than Diana’s father, using her for his own purposes. Then he thought how different the situation was. Diana, now an adult, wanted to find the victims to find the murderers.

“Guys,” Diana said, moving into their huddle, “Adele is grabbing the table where those people are leaving. I want to sample some of that yummy food on the buffet without eating standing up.” Diana yanked on Lucier’s arm. “Come on, let’s claim our chairs, then fill up.”

“Might as well. I didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

“Me neither,” Beecher said. “Tell Adele I’ll fix her a plate.”

“I’ll fix yours,” Lucier said to Diana.

Both Lucier and Beecher filled plates with everything from Kitty’s famous Cajun shrimp to barbecued ribs, spicy boiled crawfish, and fiery chicken wings. Chunks of Bananas Foster, dripping in sauce, and mini beignets took care of dessert. They headed back to the table.

As soon as they sat down, Emile’s voice boomed over the audio system, stopping everyone in his tracks. “We’re honored today to have with us Miss Diana Racine, the famed psychic. She and Keys were good friends, and in his name she agreed to do a couple of readings for us.”

“What?” Diana almost dropped the shrimp from her mouth.

Hoots and whistles sounded throughout the club and onto the street, where people crowded near the door, waiting for someone to leave and make space. Emile smiled with a shrug. Lucier shot him a daggered glare.
Talk about taking advantage
.

“What should I do, Ernie?” Diana said. “If I don’t agree, everyone will think I’ve broken a promise.”

“Sneaky bastard,” Beecher said.

“Oh, do perform,” Adele said. “I’ve never seen your act.”

Lucier started to get up. “Emile had no right to put you on the spot. I’ll go set him straight.”

The crowd, still excited, called out for her to pick them for a reading.

“Damn,” she said. “No, wait. I’ll do the reading.” Her eyes narrowed. “Time to teach the little man a lesson.”

Diana’s only link to her previous life was entertaining kids in the local hospitals, but Emile had put her in a difficult position. Then Lucier saw an expression on Diana’s face he knew too well.
Poor Emile
.

Miss Kitty came up behind Lucier and bent over between him and Diana, resting one of her prominent fake breasts on Lucier’s shoulders. If she thought she’d get a rise out of him, she was dead wrong. He easily wriggled out of the way.

“I swear, honey,” she said to Diana, “I had no idea Emile would do that. He’s a rascal, isn’t he?”

“A devious rascal,” Diana said. “I was very specific when I said I didn’t entertain anymore.”

Miss Kitty stood, raising her hands in defeat. “I’ll tell him you won’t do this for Keys. He’ll understand.”

Lucier snickered quietly.
Kitty’s even more manipulative than Emile
.

“No,” Diana said in a too-soft voice. “I’ll do it. For Keys.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Miss Kitty crooned. “I see you’ve all filled your plates. Good. You’re way too skinny, Diana honey. Put some meat on that boney butt of yours.”

Diana’s eyes popped wide open. “Boney?” She stood and craned her neck over her shoulder to get a better look. “Ernie, is it true?” The question came out more of a whine.

Lucier appraised her backside, turned to Miss Kitty. “You need to be careful what you say to my woman. She’s got enough meat on her for me.”

“Ha! Then you must be a vegetarian.” Miss Kitty waggled her shoulder, chuckled, and strutted off to tend to the rest of the crowd. “Eat up, now, ya hear? When you’re finished, Emile will announce you.”

“Boney,” Diana said. “What a nerve. I’m petite, not boney.”

“You’re perfect,” Lucier assured her. “Now come on, eat.”

Diana pouted. “I’ve been snookered and insulted. I have a good mind to take my boney ass out of here.”

“You’re a big deal for Kitty’s Kabaret,” Lucier said. “She didn’t mean anything. It’s just her Machiavellian way. And take it easy on Emile.”

“Oh, I will, and I’ll use the same tactic he used on me.” She batted her eyelashes in mock innocence. “The crowd. Besides, if I don’t, Keys will visit me in my dreams.”

Adele gasped. “Does that happen to you? Like the psychic on TV?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Mine come when I’m awake.”

“You’re in kind of a trance,” Beecher said, putting down a naked chicken wing. “Like you’re possessed.”

“Oh, dear.” Adele flapped her hand over her heart. “I hope that won’t happen when you get up on the stage. I’d be scared out of my wits.”

“My
trances―
” she glared at Beecher
―
”don’t always happen the same way. Stop scaring your wife, Sam.”

“You gotta admit you go someplace else in your mind,” Beecher said. “So, you really gonna read someone? Really?”

“Yup. I am.”

Beecher snickered while picking up a Cajun shrimp. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He stopped with the food almost in his mouth, nodded to Lucier’s left, and mumbled, “Lightner.”

Lucier turned, saw the commander. “And Dave Rickett. Wonder what they’re talking about.”

“Ya think ―”

“I try not to speculate. Their conversation could be as innocent as discussing the league baseball team.”

“Maybe they’re wondering what Moran’s last hacking job for the district was.” Beecher picked up another shrimp. “I’ve been thinking about motive. What if Moran was into these revenge crimes with those guys, and that’s what got him killed?”

“Keys might have been a hacker,” Diana said, “but he wasn’t crooked.”

“Seems contradictory,” Beecher said. “Hacking ain’t exactly legal. If anyone got hold of what he did when he worked for you, you’d’ve both been in hot water.”

Diana straightened. “Keys handled our online promotion, lined up shows, and did the website, all the things necessary for an act these days. Nothing. More.”

“Oookay,” Beecher drawled. “Have it your way.”

“Besides,” Diana said, “I’d hate to think New Orleans’ finest would use a hacker, considering that Keys worked for y’all on occasion. Hmm, wonder what he did. Be a pity if that leaked, what with all this talk about wiretapping and surveillance going on.”

Beecher coughed.

Lucier got up. “I could use a beer. The staff is too busy. I don’t want to wait an hour for a drink. I’m buying. Anyone?”

“Beer for me,” Beecher said.

“What about you, Adele?”

“Oh, I’m strictly sweet tea.”

Diana swallowed whatever she was eating. “Scotch?”

“You’re performing,” Lucier said. “Still want scotch?”

Diana mumbled something under her breath. “I’d love a sweet tea, darling.”

Laughing, Lucier said, “Be right back.” He didn’t want a beer as much as he wanted to horn in on the conversation between Commander Lightner and Dave Rickett, and they were right on the path to the bar. They saw him weaving through the crowd in their direction and smiled.

“Commander,” he said to Lightner. “Long time, Rickett.”

Rickett nodded, sipped his drink.

“Twice in one day, Lucier,” Lightner said. “Ever since you and Miss Racine hooked up, you’ve been a ghost, and today you’re all over the place. She must keep you busy at home.”

Lucier glanced back at Diana, licking the sauce from a chicken wing off her fingers. She caught him looking and smiled. “Yup. She keeps me busy.”

“How are you coming on the Moran murder?” Rickett asked.

“We’re making progress.”

“Oh, yeah? What’cha got?”

“Rather not say. Leads fizzle out, then I’m left with egg on my face. You know how it goes. I will say if my leads pan out, some interesting people will be implicated.”

“Anyone I know?” Lightner asked.

“I don’t know who you know. If anything materializes, you’ll hear all about it.”

”News is Zamora specifically asked for you to lead the investigation,” Lightner said. “You think the reason’s because Moran helped us out from time to time in the job he did for Ms. Racine as Donny Harwood? Is that why he changed his name?”

“He didn’t do the same thing for Diana’s act that he did for us.”

“Have it your way,” Rickett said. “Gossip says he did.”

Lucier squinted at Rickett. Lucier wasn’t about to argue the fact. Rickett had no proof.

“Hope your leads help catch Moran’s killer,” Lightner said. “Such a popular guy. Can’t imagine why anyone wanted him dead.”

“Bet he died in a lover’s quarrel,” Rickett said.

The statement pricked Lucier’s attention. “You know something I don’t?”

“Naw, just, well, you know how some of those people are.”

Lucier ground his teeth until he thought he cracked one. “You mean gays? Or piano players?” He paused a beat. “Or did you mean blacks?”

Rickett sneered. “Come on, don’t wave the race card in my face. You know I meant perverts. Or maybe you don’t mind another man’s dick up your ass.”

Lucier’s fists clenched. He was about to counter when Lightner said, “That’s enough, Rickett. Gays are rarely involved in crimes percentage-wise to straights.”

“Yeah, if you don’t call sodomy a crime.”

“If you have such disdain for men like Moran,” Lucier said, “what are you doing here? This is a celebration of his life.”

“Meeting my partner, and here he is.”

“You talking about me?” Chris Michel said with what looked like iced tea in his hand. He mumbled everyone’s name. “What’s going down?”

“Just chatting,” Rickett said. “Now my partner here doesn’t mind faggots. His rule is let everyone be, right, Chris?”

Michel shrugged. “Hey, what someone does behind closed doors is his business, not mine. Got anything on Moran’s killer, Lieutenant?”

“Some strong leads.” Lucier nodded to the three men. “If you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to the bar.”

“You’re not on duty?” Rickett asked.

“Took the day off. First in a while. You?”

“Me and Michel are on the way to check out a robbery.” Rickett set his drink on a nearby table. “Come on, Chris.”

“Let’s wait until after Diana Racine’s performance,” Michel said. “I’ve never seen her act. Should be fun. Anyway, the crime scene unit’s at the house.”