New Orleans Noir Read online

  “Pierre? Questioned about what? You surely don’t think he killed Elizabeth.”

  “That hasn’t been ruled out completely, but apparently his sudden departure from his home and job here is a result of his mother having a stroke yesterday.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “We all are. He was released immediately.”

  “Anything else happen while I slept?”

  “Several more leads phoned in after the publicity yesterday. We’re checked them out, but so far nothing is jelling.”

  “I was almost sure the killer would call last night,” Helena said, thinking out loud. “He seems to enjoy the game of cat and mouse so much.”

  “About last night,” Hunter said. “I know I came on strong, but you have to understand that it’s not some unreasonable cop machoism. It’s that I can’t do my job here unless I know I’m doing everything possible to protect you.”

  “I know that and I appreciate it.”

  “Did things work out okay with Doug?”

  “Perfect. He’s super professional.”

  “One of the most trusted guys on the force in my mind. So is his replacement today. Ralph Bellinger. You’ll like him.”

  “Do you really think it’s necessary I have someone in the house with me during the daylight?”

  “Humor me.”

  “I will. You outrank me. Just one more quick question. Do you know how much longer Lacy and her friend will be in New Orleans?”

  “They are flying home tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That makes me feel better. Will I see you again today?”

  “I was afraid you might not want me to after last night.”

  “I very much want to. Please take care of yourself, Hunter.” She wanted to say more, like I love you. The timing seemed all wrong.

  “See you the first chance I get. Until then Ralph will look after you, but I want you to seriously consider leaving town.”

  And though she hated to admit it, right now she did desperately miss her safe, peaceful life in Boston.

  * * *

  RALPH BELLINGER WAS as professional as Doug, staying out of Helena’s way and leaving her to wander the carriage house as the hours dragged by. She tried cleaning out her grandmother’s bedroom closet, but each item she touched brought her spirits even lower.

  Thankfully, Ella walked over at noon and joined Helena for a sandwich and a glass of iced tea. Ella avoided talk about the new findings in Elizabeth’s murder investigation in spite of the fact that it was all over the news.

  Instead she relied on talk of the weather. Thunder rumbled in the distance and layers of dark clouds were rolling in.

  “I know it sounds strange,” Helena said, “but I’ve always liked thunderstorms. Not hurricanes or tornadoes, mind you, just the ferocity of an average New Orleans thunderstorm. They seem to wash away the staleness and revive the earth.”

  “It stormed the night Elizabeth was abducted.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Helena said.

  “No reason you should.”

  There was no rage in Ella’s voice. It was a statement of resignation, acknowledgement of a grief that would never be washed away.

  Ella pushed away her half-eaten sandwich and wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin.

  “It wasn’t raining when Elizabeth left the house,” Ella continued. “The sudden squall from the Gulf blew in around ten. I worried that she was cold and wet, never knowing that she was in the hands of a monster.”

  “I’m sorry.” The expression was pathetically inadequate, but Helena couldn’t think of anything that would ease Ella’s pain.

  “Your grandmother stood by me through it all. I don’t think I would have survived without her.”

  “I know Mia was glad she could be here for you.”

  “She was amazing. She was always claiming she was close to identifying Elizabeth’s killer. Bless her heart, I think she really believed that.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No. She sat around and read those books about serial killers until all hours of the morning. They put weird thoughts in her head. In the beginning, she’d actually suggested Hunter might be the killer because she figured he was mentally unstable when he called off your wedding. Then she got to know him and realized how smart and dedicated he really is.”

  Thunder rolled in the distance and the first streak of lightning split the clouds.

  “I better get home before the monsoon hits,” Ella said. She carried her plate and tea glass to the sink.

  Helena walked her to the door and gave her a warm hug. “Call if you need anything,” Helena said.

  “I will. I know this is none of my business, but I don’t think you should sell this house or the property. You belong here. You belong with Hunter.”

  Helena couldn’t argue that.

  She considered delving into the books on Mia’s nightstand again but decided against it. Instead she walked upstairs and turned on her laptop.

  She typed in French Kiss Killer and watched as a choice of articles popped up. She surfed down to one written by Antoine Robicheaux.

  “Living in the Head of a Serial Killer.”

  She scanned the article, hitting only the main points. It emphasized that to identify and apprehend a serial killer, one had to think like the killer. Understand how he sees his world.

  She skipped to another article by Robicheaux. This one described how he’d assisted in apprehending several serial killers in states across the country.

  She could see why Hunter thought so highly of him. She just hoped he came through this time.

  * * *

  ALYSSA ORILLON CLOSED the door behind a customer and staggered to her chair, suddenly so dizzy and disoriented her feet couldn’t find the floor.

  She’d been fine earlier in the day when Lacy Blankenship and two of her friends had stopped in, but within minutes after they’d left, she’d developed a case of vertigo. She’d had to lie down for a half hour to regain her equilibrium.

  That was over an hour ago. Now, she was developing a brain-crushing headache to go with her nausea.

  And still she couldn’t get Lacy Blankenship off her mind.

  Lacy was the only one who’d wanted a psychic session. She was positively giddy as she’d described her obsession with an older man she’d met in New Orleans. She wanted Alyssa to offer assurances that this sophisticated charmer she’d fallen in love with at first sight loved her as much as she loved him.

  Alyssa didn’t have to be a medium to realize the vacation affair with an older pursuer wasn’t likely the real thing. Even in Lacy’s love-crazed description of him, he sounded like a player.

  She’d delicately warned Lacy not to invest too much of herself into the relationship until she’d known the man longer. Separation wouldn’t tear them apart if he was the right man for her. Alyssa seriously doubted her words had affected the impressionable young woman.

  Now all Alyssa could think of was Lacy and her likeness to Elizabeth, who had also trusted the wrong man.

  Alyssa put her head back and closed her eyes. Her head begin to spin and then the dark, bloody images from the other night struck like waves of neon lights crashing into her brain.

  Only now it was Lacy and Helena on the run, sloshing through mud and standing water, the man with the knife chasing them through the fog.

  The images zoomed in and out, faster and faster. Her stomach retched. She made it to the bathroom just in time to lose her lunch. Shaking and weak, she went back to the chair where she’d been sitting, picked up her phone and punched in Helena’s number.

  Chapter Sixteen

  But occasionally a successful serial killer defied all odds, his skill coming from his superior intellect and his motivation via the thrill of power. That made him almost impossible to track down
and apprehend.

  * * *

  HELENA’S PHONE RANG as she finished reading the disturbing words from one of her grandmother’s collection of articles.

  “Hello.”

  “Helena. It’s Alyssa.” Her voice was so shaky Helena could barely understand her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to talk to you. Can I come over now?”

  “No. You sound ill. I’ll call 911.”

  “No. It’s the images again, the ones from the other night. I’m so afraid for you. I think the killer is about to strike.”

  Alyssa was clearly shaken. Her fear was real. Her facts were sketchy. “Stay put. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  “You can’t come alone. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Rest assured. There’s no chance of my doing this solo. My bodyguard won’t allow it.”

  She broke the connection and stepped onto her balcony. The air was still muggy, but dark clouds had rolled in. A lightning bolt streaked across the sky followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The full force of the storm would hit any minute.

  Helena grabbed an umbrella and raced down the stairs. Ralph heard her approach and was waiting for her at the foot of the staircase.

  “Whoa there. Where do you think you’re rushing off to with that umbrella?”

  “My friend Alyssa Orillon just called. She’s hallucinating about the serial killer and is practically hysterical. I have to calm her down.”

  “I have strict orders from Hunter that you’re not to leave the house. If you try, I have to contact him.”

  “You do what you need to. I’m doing what I have to.”

  Helena had no doubt that Ralph would follow her or that he’d contact Hunter who’d have someone follow her.

  Ralph’s footsteps sounded behind her, keeping up with her fast pace even though she could hear him talking on his phone. She unlocked the gate, shoved it open and took off at a jog.

  An elderly couple had stopped on the sidewalk and were struggling to open a stubborn umbrella in preparation for the deluge that would hit soon. Any other time Helena would have stopped to help and encouraged them to seek shelter before the inevitable torrents of rain arrived.

  Another lightning and thunder duo hit as she reached the corner. The sidewalks were mostly empty now, though a group of millennials, likely tourists, were dancing around across the street from her and sipping daiquiris from red to-go cups as if the storm was reason to party.

  Helena glanced around. Ralph was a mere step behind her. If anyone had noticed them, they might have thought he was chasing her. She was two blocks from Alyssa’s when the first fat drops of rain pelted the top of her head and her face.

  A gust of cold wind whipped her hair into her eyes and sent the rain flying at her sideways, prickling her skin like needles. She slowed enough to open her umbrella before crossing the street in the middle of the block to reach the side with more store awnings for protection.

  As she stepped onto the curb, an even stronger gust of wind hit, reversing her umbrella and almost blowing it from her hands. Trying to control it threw her off balance. She tripped, and her feet went flying from beneath her.

  Two strong arms wrapped around her a second before her butt hit the sloshing water. She turned around, expecting her rescuer to be Ralph. It wasn’t.

  “Hunter. How did you get here at that exact moment?”

  “I’m like Superman. I sense when a lovely damsel is in distress.”

  “More like a half-drowned, clumsy damsel.”

  “I never said I was picky.”

  He led her to a storefront of a souvenir shop and they huddled close to the glass, protected by the large awning. Her damp hair dripped down her face and tickled her eyelashes. His arm was around her shoulders.

  Her gaze met Hunter’s. His fingers trailed a path down her wet cheeks until he slid his thumb beneath her chin and nudged her mouth to his. His lips found hers and she melted into his sweet, poignant kiss. In the midst of a storm, her life in danger from a madman, she had never felt so protected or loved.

  The rain continued to fall in deluges for several minutes, finally slowing to a shower as the ferocity of the storm gave way to the first cool front of autumn.

  “Tell me what’s up with Alyssa,” he said, his deep voice more gravelly than it had been before their kiss.

  “She’s seeing those visions again and they have thrown her into a state of hysteria.”

  “I thought you told me she doesn’t claim to have any clairvoyant powers.”

  “That’s what she says, but still she’s unable to dismiss the images as being irrelevant.”

  “Then I guess we better go check her out.”

  “You don’t have to go with me,” she said. “I know how busy you are. I didn’t tell Ralph to call you.”

  “I’m busy looking for a killer who’s playing me for a fool. I’ve spent hours upon hours chasing rabbits. What can I lose by spending a few minutes with a psychic?” He ran his hand across her shoulder blades and let his fingers tangle in her hair. “Besides, I’m not about to turn down a legitimate reason for spending some time with you.”

  “I like that.” She turned around suddenly realizing her previous bodyguard was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Ralph?” she asked as Hunter raised his umbrella.

  “Taking a break before going back to the carriage house. I told him when I caught up with him that you’re in my hands for now.”

  “Very good hands,” she agreed as they started sloshing through and around puddles toward Alyssa’s.

  * * *

  HUNTER HAD TO admit that talking to psychics made him uncomfortable. He figured to each his own when it came to making a living as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else, but he couldn’t buy into the sixth sense business.

  Nonetheless, the minute they walked in her door, he could see that she was shaken. He listened and let Helena do the talking at first but joined in the conversation when they got down to the direct facts of the matter.

  “It started as soon as Lacy and her friends left,” Alyssa explained. “Well, actually, I was uncomfortable talking to Lacy about this man she’d met while here on vacation. It got worse from there.”

  “Who were the friends that were with her?” Hunter asked.

  “Her friend Brenda who was with her when she came originally, though I didn’t know her name on that first visit. And a slightly older woman named Courtney.”

  If Courtney was with them, there was much less to worry about. “Tell me again what Lacy said about this man and try to leave nothing out.”

  The story Alyssa told about falling for a gorgeous stranger could probably describe hundreds of tourists a year. “Did Lacy tell you his name?”

  “No. I asked, but she said she’d rather keep that a secret. That’s not why I think she’s in danger,” Alyssa insisted. “It’s the phantasms that haunt me.”

  “Phantasms? Not sure I know what those are,” Hunter admitted.

  “Ghostlike creatures. Only they weren’t ghosts, they were bloody images of real people. Lacy and Helena and a man who’s always too blurry to recognize.”

  “I know the idea of a serial killer right here in the French Quarter is frightening,” Hunter said. “But remember that we have zero evidence that the serial killer has ever seen Lacy, much less that she’s his target.”

  “But Lacy looks so much like Elizabeth,” Alyssa argued. “If he merely ran into her on the streets, he’d have to see that. Whatever attracted him to Elizabeth would attract him to Lacy, too.”

  “That’s possible, which is why I’ll check on Lacy. Is there somewhere private I can make a phone call?”

  “Yes, in my studio.” She crossed the room and opened the door for him. One step inside and he felt like he’d entered the inner realm of some magical Greek goddess.

&nbs
p; A bowl of fragrant vapors, dim lighting, a glowing crystal ball, a set of cards spread out on the silk-covered table. And creepy background music that he’d only heard before in haunted houses at Halloween.

  He made a call to Courtney to verify that Lacy was safe.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Thanks for calling me back so soon, Hunter.”

  “If you called me earlier, I didn’t get the message. I was just calling you to make sure everything is going okay.”

  “I just left the message at the precinct. We have a problem.”

  Not what he wanted to hear.

  “Lacy has disappeared.”

  “Do you have any idea where she is or who she’s with?”

  “I do.”

  His insides took a hit as he listened to the details. He prayed his worst fears were all wrong and wished to God he didn’t have to tell this to Helena. But she deserved the truth. There wasn’t enough sugar in the world to fully coat this but he’d damn sure try.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hunter didn’t give any verbal indication the news was bad when he rejoined Helena and Alyssa, but Helena knew that was the verdict from the extended veins in his neck and his strained facial expression.

  He tried to reassure Alyssa that things were under control. He was good at that and she did seem to be feeling a little better when they left.

  Helena waited until they were out the door before she confronted Hunter. “What’s the real story?”

  He reached down, took her hand and squeezed it. “Nothing you want to hear.”

  “I know you only want to protect me, Hunter, but I don’t want to be protected from the truth. Did you talk to Courtney or just to one of the other officers involved in the investigation?”

  “I talked to Courtney.”

  “Is she still with Lacy and Brenda?”

  “She’s with Brenda. Lacy seems to have disappeared.”

  “Disappeared from where? The hotel?”

  “The city.”