Read Between Dusk and Dawn Online
Authors: Lynn Emery
Tags: #mystery, #murder mystery, #paranormal, #female sleuth, #louisiana, #cajun, #loup garou, #louisiana creole
“
I got a bad feeling about
it all,” Joyelle replied barely above a whisper.
“
The facts don’t point to
anything strange. Since Patsy’s lover happens to be missing now,
I’d say you don’t need to worry.” LaShaun picked up the small
plate. “Have a spicy cheese puff.”
“
No thank you.” Miss Clo
waved away the offer while her friend shook her head. “LaShaun, you
haven’t been listening with your full attention. You got to look
past the surface here. There is a pattern.”
“
A dark, dangerous
pattern,” Joyelle added leaning forward for emphasis. “In the last
year six peoples come to me, mais yeah. They all got the same kind
of sickness. Finally with a lady over in Iberia Parish, I went one
morning to see her. Her mama said she’d been out all night. Her
eyes were red and wild, and she couldn’t say where she’d been or
what she’d been doing. She was covered with scratches.”
“
Tell her about the marks,”
Miss Clo said.
Joyelle put a hand to her mouth then
lowered it. “She had bite marks on her neck.”
LaShaun looked from her to Miss Clo
and back again. “Bite marks?”
“
Looked like something had
just been nipping at her like, not deep wounds. Some barely broke
the skin. God protect us,” Joyelle said quietly. “I really think
there is some kinda evil movin’ through the land.”
“
Sounds more like hickeys.
Her boyfriend got a little too affectionate.” LaShaun grinned at
them hoping to lighten the mood. The two women stared back at
her.
“
This ain’t a jokin’
matter, young lady,” Miss Clo said.
“
Yes, ma’am. Sorry. Tell me
a more about these symptoms you’ve observed.” LaShaun put on a
serious expression.
“
All of ‘em have memory
loss. Two of them had bad dreams that they was runnin’ through the
woods after something or somebody.” Joyelle stopped and looked at
Miss Clo.
“
Go on, tell it all.” Miss
Clo nodded. She looked at LaShaun. “This part we haven’t told
anybody.”
LaShaun felt an uneasy prickle along
her arms. “Okay.”
“
I said it was six in the
last year, but back in 2007 I had another case. I didn’t think
about it until all this started happenin’.” Joyelle closed her eyes
for a few seconds and then opened them again. “Manny Young came to
see me, actually his grandmama brought him. He was runnin’ wild.
Ms. Flora Lee wanted me to pray over the boy.” She stopped again.
Her hands trembled in her lap.
Miss Clo put a hand on her shoulder.
“You heard about Manny Young?”
“
Yeah,” was all LaShaun
could manage from her now dust dry throat.
The entire country had heard about
Emanuel “Manny” Young, the Blood River Ripper as some creative
reporter had named him. Seven young women and five men had been
found ripped apart, their body parts scattered in the prairies
across three parishes. His lawyer had successfully put on an
insanity defense. Manny was convicted in 2010, but in an unusual
move, the judge ordered that he be committed to the Feliciana
Forensic Hospital. The court found that he needed treatment. When
he became mentally stable, he’d be sent to Angola State
Penitentiary’s death row.
“
Manny was doin’ the same
thing. Goin’ out at night, comin’ back in looking all wild and
crazy. He’d get drunk, like his daddy, and get into trouble.”
Joyelle drew in a deep breath and let it out.
“
His mama took off when he
was a baby,” Miss Clo put in.
“
They started finding the
bodies in April 2008. Flora Lee should have come to see me early
on, though I’m not sure it would have helped.” Joyelle picked up
her glass, emptied it with one deep gulp and then put it back
down.
“
His granddaddy said he’d
grow out of it,” Miss Clo said.
“
I tried prayin’ for him,
but he got a little crazy and tore outta my house.” Joyelle gave a
shudder. “The look in his eyes was terrible. A month later they
found the next body, and another, and another.”
“
All of the women had a
history of arrests for drugs and prostitution, so did the men,”
LaShaun murmured as the details she’d read when she lived in Los
Angeles came back to her.
“
Some came from out of New
Orleans after Katrina,” Miss Clo said. Everyone in Louisiana
referred to the horrendous Hurricane Katrina by one name. The 2005
storm had killed hundreds, and changed New Orleans
forever.
“
So folks from around here
just assumed it was all drug related, some gang or something.”
Joyelle seemed to age as she thought about the grisly events. Then
she looked at LaShaun.
“
If you read about it, then
you know they finally found Manny’s DNA on three of the bodies.”
Miss Clo continued to pat her friend’s shoulder.
“
And he confessed,” LaShaun
added.
“
He’d told me about these
dreams he had” Joyelle gripped Miss Clo’s hand. “I don’t think I
can say them horrible things.”
“
You go sit out on the
porch in the sunshine for a bit,” Miss Clo said. Joyelle nodded and
left. Moments later they heard the sound of the front screen door
shut as she went out.
“
She’s really shaken up.”
LaShaun didn’t feel any amusement now.
“
Manny told her about
several dreams. In one he was with a pretty girl, and they was
having fun, of a sexual nature. He didn’t know how much time
passed, but he woke up in the woods with blood all over him. The
girl was gone. Another one, he dreamed he was eating raw meat.”
Miss Clo put a hand to her chest before she went on. “That was six
months after they found parts of a dead woman in St. Mary Parish.
After Manny was convicted Joyelle saw pictures of some of the
victims in the local paper during Manny’s trial.”
LaShaun’s entire body hummed with a
kind of electricity. She sat straight. “One of the victims fit the
description of the pretty girl Manny saw in his dream.”
“
Yes,” Miss Clo said, her
voice shaking.
“
Joyelle didn’t go to the
police?” LaShaun now had the sensation of a rock sitting in her
stomach.
“
She didn’t know all the
details until long after the trial was over.” Miss Clo spoke with
force in defense of her friend. “He was convicted
anyway.”
“
I’m not judging her, Miss
Clo, not at all,” LaShaun replied quickly.
Joyelle came back inside. She looked
somewhat revived. “Fresh air and sunshine did me good. Sorry for
getting so nervy on you, Clo.”
“
Any normal person would
get spooked by all these strange goings-on.” Miss Clo patted her
friend on the back when Miss Joyelle sat down next to her
again.
“
Anyway, I didn’t see
nothing strange when the first case came to me. But then after a
third person wanted prayer and talked about bad dreams.” Joyelle
shook her head slowly. “Now Patsy is missing, and her husband is
being accused of doing something awful to her.”
“
And they find a dead
body?” Miss Clo gazed at LaShaun. “You tell me this is all just
normal stuff.”
“
Does seem strange.”
LaShaun gazed out one of the windows. The scene beyond seemed
peaceful and lovely. She was finding it hard to imagine a sinister
undercurrent in Vermillion Parish.
“
Thank the good Lord,
you’re gonna find out what’s happening,” Miss Clo said with a wide
smile.
“
Oh now wait a minute,”
LaShaun replied. The two women gazed at her in dismay. “I’m not
even sure where to start.”
“
Manny’s granddaddy says
you can go with him on his next visit to the Forensic Unit,”
Joyelle blurted out.
“
I’m not going to a secure
facility full of violent men found to be criminally insane. No
thank you very much.” LaShaun looked at Joyelle as though she’d
lost
her
mind.
Miss Clo put a restraining hand on her
friend’s arm. “That might not be necessary just yet, Joy. I happen
to have a few things you can start reading.”
“
Really?” LaShaun blinked
at her in surprise.
Miss Clo reached into her large
quilted handbag. She pulled out a folder with a large rubber band
around it. “I’ve got copies of clippings about Manny’s case, the
trial and all. I made notes on what Joyelle told me.”
LaShaun took the folder. “You been
listening to M.J. talk about work, or did she get her investigative
skills from you?”
“
A little of both,” Miss
Clo replied with a grin.
The two women waited as LaShaun looked
through the packet of material Miss Clo had given her. Newspaper
stories were organized in date order beginning with the discovery
of the bodies, then with Manny’s arrest, trial and conviction. A
year later a psychiatrist wrote a scholarly article on cultural
beliefs and crime. Though he didn’t identify Manny, it didn’t take
a reporter much digging to figure out the “Louisiana case” was the
Blood River Ripper. A year later the reporter did a follow-up story
which included an interview with Manny’s grandfather, relatives of
the victims and the assistant district attorney who handled the
case. Miss Clo had carefully typed up notes of Joyelle’s account of
how she met Manny and what she remembered.
LaShaun looked up at the two women.
“I’m speechless. You’ve put a lot of effort into this.”
“
My daughter bought me a
lap top and one of those fancy wireless printers.” Miss Clo
shrugged as if it was no big deal.
“
Clo was always real
organized, even in high school,” Joyelle put in.
LaShaun closed the folder. When Miss
Clo and Joyelle continued to gaze at her, LaShaun cleared her
throat. “I’ll call you in a day or so, maybe three. I want to read
it thoroughly, and maybe do a little of my own digging.”
“
Well, that sounds
reasonable. So we’ll let you get back to your quiet Friday. We’re
in for a beautiful weekend.” Miss Clo and Joyelle, taking her cue,
stood as well.
“
We thank you for helping
us figure this out, LaShaun.” Joyelle seemed relieved to hand over
at least part of the burden to someone else.
“
I can’t make any promises.
So I don’t want you two to get your hopes up,” LaShaun said as she
walked them toward the front door.
“
We have faith in you,
don’t we Joy?” Miss Clo said.
“
Yes we do,” Joyelle
replied.
“
Thanks, but folks staying
out late and getting into mischief may be a coincidence.” LaShaun
tried to manage their expectations.
Joyelle’s round pleasant face wore a
sad expression. “It’s not.”
“
Have a wonderful weekend,
cher.”
Miss Clo patted LaShaun’s shoulder and
the two friends left. As they walked away they spoke softly to each
other. Once in Miss Clo’s small car they waved one last time before
they drove away. LaShaun watched the car disappear. She looked
around at the land surrounding her house. No wave of danger or
anything abnormal came to her. She saw beech, oak and magnolia
trees. Green grass carpeted the ground that was her front yard. The
wooded land she now owned, thanks to Monmon Odette, surrounded the
house to the west for six acres. Her nearest neighbors were a good
two miles away in that direction. To the east she could barely make
out Xavier Marchand’s horse barn. Their family home was three
quarters of a mile to the east past the barn. Not even a whiff of
anything sinister came to LaShaun on the slight autumn
breeze.
She carried the folder into the house
and put it on the antique desk where she did bills, and where her
lap top sat. Determined not to think about stranger wanderings at
night and serial killers, LaShaun did housework. She dusted around
the folder, stared at it but kept going. She went into the kitchen
and prepared the batter for homemade hushpuppies. All the while her
mind kept going back to folder. What she wanted was to prepare for
the days she’d spend with Chase. But she rushed through her
preparations, finally filling up her grandmother’s huge pot with
gumbo ingredients so that it could simmer. Then she retrieved the
folder and settled on the bench. For two hours she absentmindedly
stirred the pot and read. When there was a knock on the door she
jumped and looked out of the bay window. Chase stood waving at
her.
“
You plan to let me in
sometime before it gets dark out here?” he called, his deep voice
muffled by the glass between them. He was dressed in a red
checkered flannel shirt. The sleeves were rolled back to reveal his
muscled forearms. He wore blue jeans and a dark red cap covered his
curly black hair.
“
Sorry.” LaShaun put the
folder down, careful not to lose her place, and then went to the
back door to let him in. “I got so involved in reading I didn’t
hear you.”
Chase kissed her lips lightly. Then he
walked in and tossed a small travel bag on the wooden bench near
the back door. “That must be some good book. Smells good in here. I
hope dinner’s almost ready. I barely had half my sandwich at lunch
before I had to get back to work.”
“
Long day with all the
excitement, huh?” LaShaun took the cap from his head and hung it on
a rack above the bench.