Take the Monkey and Run (20 page)

I could almost see smoke coming out of his ears from the effort his brain was making.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I'll call her.”

“What?”

“You said someone has to warn her. I'll go call her right now.”

I looked at Kai. It was tough to argue with his logic.

“Good idea,” Kai said. “Grace is a doctor. She can take a look at your foot and you can call your grandmother.”

Max looked dubious. He didn't trust Kai, but his foot was bleeding pretty badly. “You're a doctor?”

“Yep.” Technically, I was a veterinarian but I assumed Kai had a plan to get Ronnie's grandmother's name, so I went with it. “I'll get my first aid kit and meet you inside.”

A few minutes later, I'd put Moss in Bluebell, grabbed my first aid kit, and was standing at a door marked
DRESSING ROOM
.

It opened before I could knock, and a man dressed as a cop—well, if cops wore skintight uniforms—nodded at me and walked past.

I hesitated. I didn't really want to waltz into a men's dressing room. Then I heard Kai say, “Come on in, Grace, the coast is clear.” I took him at his word and headed inside.

Max had donned a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved
shirt. He was sitting in a folding chair with his injured foot propped up on a stool and was holding a cell phone against his ear. He looked to be waiting for someone to answer.

“Mamere, it's Max.” He paused and, with a furtive glance at Kai, continued in Cajun French.

I didn't know if Kai understood anything the man said, but I sure didn't.

Max hung up and said, as if we hadn't noticed, “I had to leave a message on her machine.”

Kai nodded and looked at me. “Think you can patch him up?”

“Sure.” I squatted to take a look at the wound. It wasn't a deep cut but it was long and jagged. “Well, it's not too bad. But you won't be dancing on this foot for a little while.”

“Really?” He bent forward to look at his injury. As he did, he set his phone down on the counter next to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kai lean toward the phone.

“Yep,” I said, pointing at the ball of Max's foot. “See that? You almost cut a tendon.”

He hadn't, but I was trying to buy Kai some time.

“Damn,” Max said, squinting at his foot.

Kai used the distraction to his advantage and silently tapped the screen on Max's phone. He then used his own phone to take a photo of whatever was on the display. An instant later, he'd turned back to watch me work.

Clever.

I had to bite my lip to hide my smile.

“You got the number?” I asked a few minutes later when we were leaving the club.

“Yep.”

We climbed into Bluebell and by the time we were pulling out of the parking lot, he was calling Ronnie and Max's grandmother.

Her name turned out to be Hattie Hallowell, a fact gleaned from her answering machine message. After a call to Mike, Kai's contact at the NOPD, we had her address.

Kai checked his watch. “It'll be close to midnight by the time we make it back to New Orleans. Should we wait till morning or do a drive-by?”

“Drive-by,” I said.

“Then we're headed to the Garden District.”

•••

“This is it.” I pointed to the fence running along the sidewalk. “I recognize the wrought iron.”

Coco had been right about that but failed to mention the creepy factor. Hattie's enormous house looked like it belonged on the set of
The Addams Family
.

“Cut the engine,” Kai said.

I did and we sat in the quiet for several long moments.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Should we wake her up to warn her about Barry and Anya?”

“Maybe. Let's take a quick look around,” he said.

“So our drive-by is now a stop-by?”

He shrugged. “We're already here.”

“Still, I don't want to scare a little old lady by traipsing through her garden in the middle of the night.”

“If she's home,” he countered. “Max and I both called and got no answer.”

“Listen to you. I take you out of your jurisdiction and you're ready to break all the rules.”

“Well, not all of them. Come on.”

Moss had to water the bushes anyway, so we had an excuse to be walking around. As nonchalantly as possible, the three of us moseyed up the driveway leading to a detached garage at the rear of the property. We paused when we reached the backyard. The house was quiet, without a single light on anywhere. Still, it didn't quite feel empty.

“Maybe I'm just creeped out by this place but I get the feeling we're being watched,” I said.

“Stay here with Moss. I'll go knock.”

He walked to the back door and pounded on it as only cops can. There was no response. Kai knocked again. Nothing.

He gave up and came back to where Moss and I stood. “Any of Coco's littermates around?”

I cast my feelers out as far as possible. “There's a dog in the house behind us. Other than that, I'm not picking up much.”

“How about Moss? He hear anything we can't?”

“I'll check. It might take a minute.”

That was an understatement. Because Moss did, in fact, hear plenty of things we couldn't.

In that moment he was picking up a high-pitched beeping sound I guessed was a microwave, the rumbling swish of someone's washing machine, a distant train whistle, and the hollow
ticktock
of a clock. I filtered through everything to the best of my ability, but nothing stood out. Then the creak of a wood floorboard caught my attention.

I was sure it came from inside Hattie's house.

“I think someone's here.” I pointed to the third story. “Top floor.”

We watched for signs of movement.

Nothing happened. Maybe it was the creepiness of the house or all the earlier talk of the
rougarou
, but the longer I stood there, the more uneasy I felt. Goose bumps rose on my arms and fluttered up the back of my neck.

“I'm getting the heebie-jeebies,” I said, unable to suppress a shiver.

“Okay, let's go.”

As we emerged from the driveway onto the sidewalk, I noticed a man standing near Bluebell. At first, I thought he was waiting for us, but he started walking away as we approached. I squinted at his retreating figure.

“What is it?” Kai asked when he saw I was staring at the man.

“That guy”—I pointed as he turned the corner—“I swear I've seen him before.”

“Where?”

“I don't know. There's something about the way he walks. It's familiar.”

“Barry?”

“Too tall. And his shoulders are too wide.”

“Logan?”

It was possible. But . . . “No. Moss knows Logan's scent.” I double-checked with my dog—I was right, he wasn't the Ghost.

Then it hit me. The way he walked. With a slight hitch in his step.

“It's him. The man Coco saw with Anya. He had a limp.”

We scrambled into Bluebell and sped down the block and around the corner.

He was gone.

I fell into bed around one in the morning, fearing I'd dream of haunted houses, werewolves, and mysterious strangers lurking about.

Instead, thanks to Voodoo's purr-power, I dreamt of being cocooned in soft white dog fur and playing tag on an endless staircase with two equally furry, though not as large, friends.

It made for a good night's sleep, and I woke the next morning feeling better than I had in days.

I still needed coffee to get my brain working.

As I was dozing, and wishing for a cup of java, there was a knock at the door.

I opened my eyes to see Emma enter the room. She held a mug of what my nose told me was coffee in one hand and had Elvis tucked to her chest with the other hand.

I sat up to accept the cup.

“Belinda said you'd be awake.”

“From now on, we're only staying at bed-and-breakfasts owned by psychics.”

“Fair enough.”

“I see Elvis is still working his charms on you.”

Emma gave me a flat look. “I'm afraid I'll step on him if I don't pick him up.”

“Uh-huh.” I winked at my sister. “Keep it up, buddy,” I said to Elvis. “Her resolve is weakening.”

Elvis tried to lick Emma's chin but she angled her face away.

Kisses!

Atta boy.

Emma set Elvis on the bed and dusted off her hands. “We got a lead on the monkey.”

The little dog hopped over to greet Moss.

“Yeah?” I sat up, suddenly feeling more awake.

“Well, it's not a lead. More of a workable theory,” Emma said. “I remembered you telling me about the homeowners' association president who was complaining about the monkey so I decided to give him a call—”

“You talked to the crabby old dude?”

“I did.”

“How much did he remind you of Mr. Cavan-ass?” I asked, referring to our crotchety old neighbor back home in Ponte Vedra.

“Brother from another mother,” she said.

“Didn't I tell you they could be twins?”

“Anyway,” she continued, “it turns out he was keeping track of all the monkey sightings. From the very beginning.”

My sister seemed to be waiting for me to get where she was going, but I wasn't caffeinated enough.

“Meaning?”

“Come on, you need more coffee. Then I'll show you what I'm talking about.”

I looked at my mug. Empty.

“This mug has a hole in it,” I told my sister as I climbed out of bed.

She made a dubious
mmmmm
sound.

I picked Elvis up as Moss hopped off the bed and trotted to the door.

Walk?

Moss was talking to my sister.

“Yeah, I guess I can take you out,” Emma said.

“Hey, you're getting good.”

“It doesn't take a psychic to know he's got to pee. Come on, fur face.”

I grabbed a quick shower and got dressed while Emma took Moss out. Drying my hair always took forever, so by the time I made it downstairs, they were back and breakfast was on the table. My sister and Kai were the only ones in the room.

“Where is everyone?” I asked as I poured more coffee into my mug.

“Belinda is getting ready for a big group reading this morning at the casino. Hugh went to stretch his legs. I think the idea of spending the morning reading through all the monkey sightings and looking at a map gave him cabin fever.”

“I can help with the monkey map,” I said, taking a seat at the table. Belinda had made pancakes and I forked a couple onto my plate. “But first, I'd like to go back to Hattie's place. If she still isn't home, we can leave her a note or something.” I turned to Kai. “Maybe that guy from last night will show up and we can get a good look at him.”

“What guy?” Emma asked.

“There was a man in front of Hattie's house,” Kai said.

“It was the same guy I saw the other day near Ronnie's apartment,” I added.

“How can you be sure, if you didn't get a good look?” Emma asked.

“When Kai and I went to Ronnie's, I asked Coco about Anya. The cat didn't tell me much, but she did show me Anya walking around the apartment. Just as she was leaving I saw this guy meet up with her.”

“What happened?”

“Coco was inside, watching out the window, so I couldn't hear what they were saying.”

“You think he might be working with Barry and Anya?”

“I think it's likely,” I said.

“I've been wondering—why is everyone so interested in Ronnie and her family?” Emma asked. She held up her hand and began counting off names with each finger. “We have Logan, Barry, and Anya, and now this mystery guy.”

“Uh-oh,” Belinda said, breezing into the room. “We already have a mystery monkey, now there's a mystery man?”

I smiled when I got a good look at what she was wearing: jeans, high-heeled black boots with fringe, and a bright red sweater adorned with a pair of sequined lips on the front. Her lips were as red as the sweater and today's blond wig was only half as high as the red one from the day before.

“What you grinning at,
cher
?”

“You're going casual today?”

“Ain't nothing casual about Belinda. But I do have to tone it down for some parties.”

“Just remember,” Emma said, “you can turn it down, but you can't turn it off.”

Belinda high-fived my sister and went to the fridge. Opening it, she pulled out a smoothie container and took a sip of what looked like green mud.

“What is that?”

“Superfood. I like to keep my body clean before a big reading. Now,” she said, coming to sit, “what were y'all saying about a mystery man being after Ronnie?”

“We think he's working with Anya and Barry,” I said. “And when we went to Gallous, we might have found out why they're after her.”

“It's possible Ronnie witnessed her uncle's murder,” Kai said.

We took turns telling them what we'd learned from Will and the not-so-sharp Detective Bryant.

“That explains why they'd want Ronnie, but what about Hattie?”

“I've been thinking about that,” Kai said. “It's possible that Ronnie went on the run, found her grandmother, and
gave her something that implicates Barry and Anya in Sean Preaux's murder.”

I nodded. “They might plan on killing Ronnie, but first they have to make sure Hattie's not a threat.”

“Okay, I understand that, but why kill Sean Preaux?” Emma asked. “According to the retired cop, he mostly kept to himself, right?”

“Right,” I said as another question occurred to me. “And how would they have gotten involved with one another? Anya's Russian. Until recently, Barry worked out of state. Something has to have brought them together.”

“Ronnie's brother, Max, seems to be into some shady stuff,” Kai said. “I'll call Mike, my contact at NOPD, and ask him to check him out. See what he's been involved in.”

I let out a slow breath. “It seems like all our questions lead to more questions.”

“At least you found out who Ronnie's
mamere
is,” Emma said. “That's one less thing to worry about.”

“Was it one of the Preauxs from the list?” Belinda asked.

“Not a Preaux at all. Her name's Hattie Hallowell.”

“Hattie Hallowell?”

“You know her?”

“There used to be a psychic who went by that name.”

I looked at Kai. No one had said anything about Hattie being psychic.

“What do you mean ‘used to be'?”

“I'm not sure what happened but she closed up shop years ago. One day she's the toast of the town, the next, she becomes a recluse.”

“I wonder what happened,” I said.

“And if it has anything to do with what's going on today,” Kai added. “Maybe the reason the family's being targeted doesn't have anything to do with Max or Ronnie and everything to do with Hattie.”

“Let's go see what we can find out.” I looked at Emma. “You okay working on this?” I gestured to the foldout map.

My sister nodded. “Hugh has promised to help go through the reports and cross-check the sightings. If we have a breakthrough, I'll call.”

•••

Hattie's place wasn't nearly as spooktacular during the day.

Instead of looking haunted, it simply looked run-down.

I've never had my sister's artistic eye, but even without any aesthetic prowess, I could see that with a coat of paint and a little—okay, a
lot
—of fixing up, the house would be a showplace.

We rang the front doorbell and waited. Then rang it a second time.

I tried to peek inside through the front window but couldn't find any gaps in the curtain.

Kai tried the door handle. It was locked, of course.

“Let's try around back,” he said.

That door was also locked.

Kai reached up and ran his hand over the top of the door's casing. “We might get lucky and find the key.”

“Again?” I doubted Hattie was as careless as her granddaughter when it came to spare-key hiding, but started looking anyway.

Then I thought of something.

“If you witnessed a murder and knew people might be after you, would you put your key outside like Ronnie did?”

“No, but the landlord might. I had one once who required you keep a spare key outside.”

“Really?”

“He also charged you a hundred bucks if he had to come unlock your apartment.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.” I returned to the search for a key. After ten minutes of turning over every clay pot, loose brick, and anything else that might hide a key, we gave up.

“There might be a side door that's unlocked.”

We traipsed around the enormous house and found not only a side door, but an attached greenhouse.

The windows of the glass structure were coated with grime. Ivy climbed up and over the roof, engulfing it in a nebulous mountain of green.

Brushing the vine out of the way, I tried the glass-paneled door and shook my head. Locked.

“There,” Kai said, pointing to the lower outside corner of the greenhouse.

The glass pane at the very bottom was missing.

We looked at each other for a long moment.

It was one thing to find a door open and walk inside, but crawling through a missing window took things to another level.

“Maybe you shouldn't be doing this,” I said. “I'm sure the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office frowns on its investigators breaking and entering.”

“Whoever Cornelius saw on that table was being tortured, right?”

“Right,” I said, understanding his point. “I'll go through and see if I can unlock the door.” I squatted down and, careful to avoid any stray shards of glass, ducked under the metal frame and crawled into the greenhouse.

It took some doing, but I managed to turn the rusty lock and force the door open.

“Let's hope those are unlocked,” Kai said.

I looked at the set of French doors leading into the house.

“Cross your fingers,” I said, and grasped the handle. It turned easily and swung open with a gentle creak.

From the outside the house looked abandoned. On the inside it just looked . . . preserved.

The doors from the greenhouse led to a large room that looked as if it had been used as an extended pantry–garden shed combo. A large farmhouse sink sat to one side, flanked by rows of shelves stocked with every size of canning jar
imaginable. On one wall there was a long wooden table stacked with a variety of clay pots.

“Hello?” I said as we moved through the room and stepped into the main house. I doubted anyone was there, but didn't want to frighten Hattie if she was.

“Miss Hallowell?” Kai called out. His voice carried a lot more than mine and I felt sure that even if Hattie was hard of hearing, she'd know we were there. We listened, but there was no answer. No sound at all.

“Maybe she got Max's warning and took off,” I said as we walked through the dim interior.