32

WITH THEIR HEADS BENT TOGETHER AND WICKED GRINS ON THEIR faces, Cece and Tinkie looked like a couple of co-conspirators in a case of espionage. I took a seat at the table.

“I’m meeting Ellisea tonight,” Cece said. She smiled and I thought her incisors had grown at least half an inch. She looked practically wolfish.

“At Commander’s Palace,” Tinkie said. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall.”

They both frowned when I didn’t say anything.

Cece tapped her perfect fingernails on the table in Mango Spice staccato. “By the way, Connie’s throwing another fit.”

“About what?” I asked. As focused as I was on the case, I wanted to hear about Coleman.

Cece rolled her eyes. “One doesn’t need a reason when one is Connie Peters. She’s making Coleman pay, plain and simple. Doc even said so. He said she needed a good spanking and someone to force her to act her age.”

I didn’t say anything. Connie was risking the only thing that kept Coleman bound to her: the baby. I doubted she was that stupid. “Coleman asked Doreen to talk to Connie.”

“It won’t do any good. Connie’s in hog heaven. She’s not about to change—not when she’s got the upper hand.” The waiter placed fresh bread and butter on the table and Cece popped a bite into her mouth. “This is divine. What’s wrong with you, Sarah Booth?”

“I need to know how a death certificate is issued in Mississippi if a body isn’t found.”

“Whose body is missing?” Cece asked, signaling the waiter for another drink.

“Adam Crenshaw.”

“Doreen’s dead brother?” Tinkie’s eyebrows rose. “Why would that matter?”

I sipped my iced tea, waiting for the perfect moment. “Because Adam isn’t dead.”

“Dahling, do you realize how Boris Karloff that sounds?” Cece asked.

“Boris Karloff, Faulkner, name whatever literary tradition you like. I think Adam Crenshaw killed Lillith and Rebekah.”

“A serial killer who targets only his blood kin. Now that makes one glad to be an only child,” Cece said.

I told them everything I’d learned from Kiley, and threw in the “spawn of Satan” reference Coot Henderson had heard when Lillith died, as well as the mention in Adam’s files. By the time I finished, they were both convinced that it was possible Adam Crenshaw wasn’t in a watery grave. In fact, it was highly probable that he was walking the streets of the French Quarter—and possibly stalking his sister.

“Think what he might have in store for Doreen, if he burned his own mother to death,” Cece said.

I didn’t want to think about it. Lillith’s tombstone, beautiful though it was, was also symbolic of the torment of her death. She had died in the flames.

Tinkie’s depression was gone. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Let’s say Adam is alive and that he did kill Lillith. Why would he kill Rebekah? To punish his sister for having an illegitimate baby?” she asked.

Motive was the element that was deviling me. Adam might be a religious kook, but why target an innocent infant? I had a theory, but I wasn’t certain about it. “I think Rebekah was living proof of Doreen’s sin.”

“What sin?” Cece asked.

“The sin of lust. Fornication. Adultery. The same sin that Lillith was guilty of.”

“This guy is really whacked,” Cece said. “But why kill a baby? Why not kill Doreen?”

“I think he wants to punish first. To destroy her.”

Tinkie nodded. “If Doreen is convicted of Rebekah’s murder, her entire ministry will be destroyed. If she’s a murderess, especially a woman who killed her own infant, her message is compromised.”

I put my hands on the table, unable to contain my growing excitement. “We’ve been on the wrong track the entire time,” I said.

“This guy shouldn’t be hard to spot,” Cece said. “He probably has a suitcase with glass eyes and wooden legs. Flannery O’Connor could have written about him.”

“Not according to Kiley and his adoptive family. He was a good-looking man. We have to remember that Doreen has thousands of followers. He could be someone she sees on a regular basis, someone who looks as normal as you or me.” I was beginning to panic myself.

“He could be anywhere in the city,” Cece said. “He could be watching Doreen all the time.”

“If we’re right about this, I think he’s close enough to have slipped something into Doreen’s food or drink the night Rebekah was killed,” I said. “He planned that murder carefully, down to making sure Doreen was drugged so that she wouldn’t wake up.”

“But how would he gain access to Doreen’s apartment?” Cece asked. “He’d have to have a key to get to the baby’s formula.”

“We need to talk with Michael. It’s possible some of the kids were sent to Doreen’s for something. They may have inadvertently allowed someone to copy a key.”

“Speaking of Doreen, we’ve got to tell her,” Tinkie said. “She could be in danger.”

“Kiley’s sending the rest of the files and a picture of Adam, if she can find one. We need Oscar’s computer. And I told Kiley to check into the Hilton. Once she gets here, she’ll be able to identify Adam.”

“Kiley could also be in danger,” Cece said. “Someone should stay with her.”

“She’ll probably get here about five,” I said. “We need to read the rest of those files. I can—”

Tinkie frowned. “I’m supposed to see Michael at five. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him, but I told him I needed more background information. Sarah Booth, would you mind if I went through the files Kiley sent? You could meet with Michael instead. I have some telephone calls in to his past employers, just a simple background check.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Tinkie wanted a reason to talk to Oscar. Their tiff was working on her.

“Sure. Sounds fine. The most important thing is to get a photo, or at least a very good description of Adam. Where are you meeting Michael?”

“Café Du Monde,” she said, smiling. “Beignets always pick up my spirits.”

“At five?” I checked my watch. I had time to make some phone calls. LeMont was at the top of the list, but I needed to talk to Coleman and I wanted to talk to Hamilton.

“When do you meet Ellisea?” I asked Cece. I wanted to know where my friends were. If Adam Crenshaw was alive and walking the streets of New Orleans, it would be best for all of us to know what the others were doing.

“At six. A little early for dinner, but she insisted.”

“Be—”

“Careful,” Cece finished. “Dahling, caution is my middle name.”

         

THE HOTEL SEEMED abnormally quiet as I walked through the lobby. A late-afternoon hush had fallen over the city. For one brief instant I wished for magic—something to stop time and motion, except for me and Hamilton. Our hours were running out. Soon he’d return to Paris and I would go home to the Delta. He’d invited me to the City of Light, but I knew myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t go unless we established a stronger bond. I could love Hamilton. I could, but I didn’t. We hadn’t had enough time together to let our feelings grow.

The wonderful scent of the lilies still filled my hotel room. The first thing I did was to book a room for Kiley at the Hilton. The second was to call LeMont.

“My lab tech finally figured out it was Michael Anderson that he left alone. I’ve already put in a call asking Anderson to come back in for another DNA sample,” LeMont said. “I think it’s a big waste of time, but we’ll do it anyway.”

If my current theory was correct, Rebekah’s paternity was no longer a real issue. “There’s something I have to tell you.” I gave him a rundown on what we’d learned about Adam Crenshaw.

“You think he’s really alive?” LeMont sounded dubious.

“I think he’s alive and I think he killed Rebekah and Lillith. LeMont, he set fire to his mother’s house. And I think Doreen may be his next target.”

“Because he thinks she’s a loose woman?” He was barely able to suppress his amusement. “If that’s his criterion for murder, he can have a field day in this town.”

“Get in touch with Tinkie. Let her forward some of those files to you. You won’t think it’s amusing then.”

“Sarah Booth, if we arrested everyone who wrote weird things on a computer, there wouldn’t be anyone left walking around free.”

“Adam’s body was never found. His mother burned to death. His niece was murdered. Heck, his son is dead, too. There’s a pattern there, LeMont.”

“A pattern, but it doesn’t prove anything. Adam Crenshaw disappeared in the Pearl River. You think he just held his breath for a few hours and floated downstream?”

“I think he’s a very clever man. And I think he’s alive. Would you check on him? Maybe he has a record. We need a photo of him. And while you’re at it, could you check any records or reports in the death of Joshua Crenshaw? SIDS is beginning to sound mighty convenient.”

“I’m not making any promises. I’ll do what I can if I have time.”

I’d told him; I couldn’t make him believe it. “I just thought you should know what we discovered.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good-bye, LeMont.”

“Sarah Booth, don’t hang up. I need to talk to you about Ms. Falcon.”

“Don’t bother threatening her. Cece’s left all the facts on file with her newspaper. If anything happens to her, the story will still get printed.” I figured LeMont could pass the word along to the Boudet family since he knew them so well.

“I’d like to talk to Ms. Falcon. Maybe explain a few things. I found Ellisea’s so-called friend who vandalized her car. Like I thought, the little pervert thought he could blackmail the Clays. The truth will come out, but an exposé isn’t the way to do it. Will you ask Ms. Falcon to talk to me?”

LeMont had the authority to talk to anyone he wanted. All he had to do was flash his badge. “Sure, I’ll ask her to talk to you.”

“I’ll call you when I get the answers on that DNA test.”

“Thanks.”

I dialed Coleman next. Deputy Dewayne Dattilo answered at the sheriff’s office, and I realized I was relieved. Talking to Coleman tore me up.

“How’s Connie?” I asked.

“Not good.” The Sunflower County deputies had gone to a lot of pains to stay clear of the entanglement of my relationship with Coleman. Dewayne’s voice was clipped and I could hear the discomfort in it.

“Is she still in the hospital?”

“Yeah. She’s heavily sedated.”

“And how’s Coleman?”

“He’s back in the cell with your dog. I think it’s the first time he’s slept in a couple of days. Want me to get him?”

“Don’t wake him,” I said. “I’ll call another time. How’s Sweetie?”

Dewayne’s voice brightened considerably. “I think we need to keep her as the jailhouse mascot. Complaints about food and things have gone down nearly one hundred percent since she arrived.”

“Give her a pat for me,” I said, mentally blocking the image of Coleman sleeping with my dog beside him. “Dewayne, I need a big favor.” I didn’t wait for him to evade me. Lillith’s tombstone still troubled me. If Adam had burned his mother to death and erected the tombstone, perhaps there was a clue I’d missed. “Could you go to Pine Level Cemetery and write down the inscription on Lillith Lucas’s tombstone? And call Al Jenkins at the funeral home and see if he has a record of who paid for that tombstone.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No. It’s important.” I gave him the numbers for the hotel room and my cell phone. He promised to call Al immediately and check the tombstone on his way home from work and give me a call.

I’d cleared the deck to call Hamilton, and my finger trembled as I punched in his number. He answered on the second ring.

“Sarah Booth,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “I’ve left two messages for you.”

Indeed, the little red light on my phone was blinking. I’d been so intent on making my calls that I hadn’t noticed. “Are they good messages?” I asked, desire making my voice deeper.

“Good in the sense that I’ll be back in New Orleans tomorrow for certain. Sarah Booth, if your case is concluded, let’s take a few days and go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t care. Someplace where there are no phones or fax machines. Someplace where we can talk without interruption. Bring your clothes. We’ll pick a destination at the airport and just get on a plane.” He sounded exhausted.

“Did you find the Martinez family?”

He hesitated, and in the silence I knew what had happened.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And the people who killed them?”

“Will go unpunished. I did everything I could, but Washington is a city of delay and prevarication. No one in power wanted to get involved. Peruvian politics are volatile, and this country relies on their oil. The lives of one good man and his family were of no importance here.”

As much as I admired Hamilton and his work, I wondered if I could bear such disappointment, and I knew it must come on a regular basis.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could change things.”

“You have, simply by caring. That’s the only way to change the world.”

He sounded a bit like Doreen. “I’ll be at the airport,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

“Wear something easy to remove,” he said, and there was the hint of mischief in his voice.

Even though Tinkie had stopped by the Center to talk to Doreen, I decided to call her, too, just to double-check the payment to Kiley. I’d changed my mind about needing the files.

“Is it true? Is Adam alive?” Doreen asked.

“I think there’s a strong possibility.”

“And you think he wants to kill me.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“If he’s alive, I’d say there’s a good chance he’s the person responsible for Rebekah’s death. And your mother’s, too.”

“To punish me?”

“He isn’t mentally balanced. You can’t try and figure out what he’s thinking. If he did kill Lillith and Rebekah, he’s acting with purpose and deliberation. We may not be able to understand why he’s doing what he’s doing, but it makes sense that you’re the next victim in the pattern he’s creating.”

“I never even saw him. I never knew he existed. Why would he hate me so?”

“I can’t answer that. Doreen, what I need is for you to contact Kiley.” I gave her the room number at the Hilton. “Get her to describe Adam. See if he sounds like anyone you know. Maybe someone who’s come to you for healing, someone who’s a regular client.”

“I’ll speak with her.”

I glanced at my watch. The afternoon was fast getting away from me. “What are you doing this evening?”

“I’m introducing Teko to the other kids at the Center.”

“Teko?”

“He’s from the projects. He had migraines.”

Great, so Doreen was now embracing a gangbanger. “And after that?”

“I have a candlelight vigil on the Square. We do this every November. We have a short ritual and we pray for peace. A lot of people find comfort in the ceremony.”

“Doreen, you should cancel—”

“No, Sarah Booth. I won’t cancel it. I can’t allow someone else control over my life.”

It was pointless to try and talk her out of it, even though she’d be a perfect target for a sniper. Of course, the person killing Doreen’s family didn’t use a gun. He brought death more intimately.