Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 15 - The Mona Lisa Murders (6 page)

‘I don’t understand what the big deal is with this Lisa woman. There has to be more to it. The whole thing doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone kill over the cremated remains of anyone?’

She searched my face. ‘I have no idea.’

I was probably the shortest branch on the Tree of Wisdom, but even I could see that at the present our options were limited, as in slim to none. The New Orleans PD had their hands full on a daily routine. The storm would add to it. At least, the city had new levees after Hurricane Katrina several years back. Besides, we had no hard proof of any crime, no attempted murder, kidnapping, not even spitting on the sidewalk to elicit help from the cops.

Our best bet, I figured was to pick up that package and hole up somewhere until I could talk to Danny O’Banion.

Chapter Nine

From time to time, we heard scratching on the door. Latasha smiled crookedly at me. ‘We have guests.’

I arched an eyebrow. ‘The dogs?’

‘No.’

‘The other ones, huh.’

‘Not to worry. The house is tight and solid. We rode out Katrina here—me and my brother and his family.’

Growing up in Louisiana, I’ve ridden out a few hurricanes up on the prairies, but only one down in a swamp. That was the Atchfalaya Swamp back east of Lafayette, Louisiana. I learned in one big hurry that all creatures, and I mean all creatures, race to higher ground when storm swells push in.

Those days we spent marooned in the family mansion on an island in the Atchfalaya, we not only fought off rising water but snakes, alligators, giant nutria rats, and even a black bear.

It was not any too comforting to peer though the shuttered windows and see a porch squirming with snakes.

‘You been through many of these,’ I asked.

‘Not many. Five or six maybe. None like this. Katrina went a little east of us. You?’

I grinned at her. ‘More than I can count. And never met a one I liked.’

She laughed.

From time to time, the explosion of snapping pine trunks cut through the sound and fury of the raging storm.

I kept expecting to lose power, but the sturdy little generator never faltered.

Time always drags during hurricanes. This one was no exception, but, as Claude had predicted, and the emergency radio assured us, by five-thirty, the wind had shifted to out of the west, meaning the eye was probably close to Interstate 10.

And with the shift came breaks in the clouds. As typical of growing and dying storms, the rain came in squalls, some lasting only minutes, others half-an-hour.

Rising silently, Latasha opened a window and unbarred a shutter. ‘Storm’s moving past. Only a couple snakes left on the porch. I’ll top off the generator.’

Suddenly, I was exhausted. The last forty-eight hours came rushing back. Her announcement of the passing storm literally drained the adrenaline from my veins.

I must’ve dozed, for her laughter jerked me awake. ‘I don’t blame you,’ she said. ‘I’m beat.’ She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with an armload of blankets. ‘The couch makes into a bed when you’re ready. Me, I’m due for a nap.’

‘Go ahead. I think I’ll have another cup of coffee.’

She smiled at me. I had to admit, my new-found cousin was a very attractive young woman, too young, too attractive to have gotten herself into such a predicament. ‘Tell me something, Latasha.’

She glanced over her shoulder and paused. ‘Sure.’

‘Obviously, you’re a bright young woman. You have to be for admission to Houston-Billets University. That’s why I can’t figure you. You went into this knowing absolutely nothing except two names, a package, and a promise of five thousand dollars.’

She studied me a few moments, then nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She hesitated, considering my remarks. ‘At the time, that was all I needed.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. ‘I had no idea any of this would come about or I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it.’

I arched an eyebrow. The beauty of hindsight.

I was tired when I crawled between the blankets, but I couldn’t sleep. When I was younger, like Scarlet, I pushed problems aside until tomorrow, but now age and the chilling sense that time is passing too blasted quickly has caught up with me. Now, when I come face-to-face with a problem, I grab hold like a pit bull, refusing to turn loose until I have it solved.

I turned my present predicament over in my mind for an hour, finding no alternative. According to Antone, whoever was after the package planned on leaving no witnesses. The only choice I saw was to take care of us as best as I could and get in touch with Danny O’Banion, an old high school chum back in Austin, and a made man with the mob.

But, what to do until then? Latasha planned to move out as soon as possible.

With a sense of resignation, I knew I would go with her. Besides, it didn’t appear to be so much of a problem to pop into New Orleans, grab the package, and boogie out of town.

Easier said than done as I was to discover.

The rain ceased during the early morning hours, and the sun rose into a clear sky. I had awakened early, anxious for the news. New Orleans had taken a good hit, harder than the punch delivered by Katrina. But, the levees had been rebuilt, better than ever.

I peered through the shuttered windows and grimaced. As far as I could see, gulf had inundated the swamps with several feet of water. The ridge on which the cabin sat was around fifteen feet, and the water had risen almost halfway to the top of the ridge.

I had just put water on to boil when a new report froze me. A New Orleans’ levee constructed by the Corp of Engineers had failed, once again flooding the city as it had in 2005.

From my experience back then, I had a fair idea just where the water had settled. The French Quarter was probably all right, and perhaps a strip a couple hundred yards wide along the shore all the way upriver beyond the Garden District.

However, reported the media, though the new pumps, installed after Katrina, were functioning, they were failing to hold their own against the muddy water gushing through the breaks.

Latasha bounced in. Her hair was done in cornrows. She wore jeans and a dark green shirt. ‘Good morning. What’s the news?’

‘Not good.’ I nodded to the coffee. ‘It’s hot.’

‘I can use a cup.’ Over her shoulder she announced. ‘We better eat a good breakfast. We’ve got some hard riding ahead.’

‘Oh?’

‘About an hour along the levee is the town of Emo. I’ve relatives there. We’ll get transportation on in to New Orleans.’

‘New Orleans? What do you have in mind,’ I asked warily.

‘Nothing special,’ she replied brightly. ‘Pick up the package and head on to Texas.’

I shook my head. ‘Sorry, cousin, but it ain’t going to work. New Orleans is flooded.’ I gestured to the window. ‘Take a look outside.’

She uttered an unladylike curse. ‘I was afraid of that.’ She peered out the window and whistled softly.

‘The reports don’t say much. I don’t know if it’s worse than last time or not.’

A grimace contorted her face.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘The Ninth Ward.’

‘What about it?’

‘I’m sure it’s flooded.’

‘That’s a given. They flood out there with just a passing shower. So what’s the problem?’

She looked at me solemnly. ‘That’s where the package is.’

‘That’s what?’

‘My roommate at Houston-Billets lives out there. They rebuilt after Katrina. I stopped in to visit her a few days ago. That when I put the package in a locker in a nearby Americanways Bus Station off St. Claud on Jefferson Parkway. I paid for a month ahead of time.’

I grimaced. Just what I needed. Another problem stacked on the dozen already staring me in face. ‘For all we know, the package is water soaked.’

‘No. The lockers were on the second floor. Besides, water won’t hurt body remains.’

‘You don’t know that for sure.’

‘Well,’ she snapped flippantly. ‘You don’t know that it won’t either.’

All I could do was shake my head. ‘Okay, okay. Well, let’s grab some breakfast and hit the road.

Thirty minutes later, we were heading north on the levee, trying, but failing, to dodge the chunks of mud the knobby ATV tires were throwing up.

To my surprise, Pierre and Victor loped along beside us.

‘They always follow for a few miles.’

I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting company. I still couldn’t figure out why the five=hundred-year-old plus dust of a dead model would drive someone to kidnapping or murder, not even a demented pothead from Thailand.

Yet, those bozos had taken shots at me. And they killed Antone. They had orders. I heard that with my own ears.

As we slipped and slid along the levee where it made a gradual bend to the west, I looked back and spotted two ATVs, almost specks in the distance.

Chapter Ten

‘We got company!’

Glancing in her side mirror, Latasha nodded.

The ATVs grew closer, and suddenly, the crack of a handgun sounded over the guttural roar of the engine. Clenching her teeth, Latasha backed off the throttle and came to a halt. She gave a shrill whistle. The two wolf-dogs bounded to her. She pointed to the oncoming ATVs. She shouted. ‘
Attaquer!’

Wheeling about, the two monster mastiffs shot across the levee toward the small vehicles.

She laughed. ‘Whoever they are, they’ll have they hands full with Pierre and Victor.’

‘What did you tell them?’

With a wry grin, she replied. ‘Attack!’ Her smile broadened when she saw the surprise on my face. ‘They won’t hurt those jokers. Just scare them off.’

When I looked back, the ATVs had whipped around and were heading the other direction with Pierre and Victor yapping at their sides.

At Emo, Latasha’s cousin, Octave Bertrand, gave us clean clothes and hot food, then loaned us his Ford pickup after first chastising her on such a risky venture. ‘It be too dangerous,
cher
, too much dangerous.’

Latasha’s response was a deliberate drag on her cigarette.

He looked at me for help. I shook my head. ‘I’m not crazy about the idea either, but we don’t have a choice. Somehow, we’ve got to find someone who can help us; someone who knows this Nemo weirdo. Somehow call off the dogs, if that’s possible.’

‘
Oui
! Me, I see what you mean. Okay, the city, it be closed by the army.’ He explained how the levees had once again failed, not because of shoddy construction, but because no one could have predicted a sixteen-foot surge hitting the coast at the time of the month’s highest tide.

‘From what me, I hear, the flood, she is much more bad than before.’ He winked at Latasha. ‘But, you are not to worry. The army, they not in Gretna. You see Edmund, your cousin. You know how to find him,
cher
?’

Latasha blew a stream of smoke at the steering wheel in front of her. ‘
Oui
!’

The wiry Melungeon grinned at me, his brilliant white teeth in sharp contrast to his dark skin. ‘Good. That Edmund, he take you anywhere you want to go.’ He tossed Latasha a pack of filterless cigarettes. ‘You probably out of them, huh,
cher
?’

She grabbed the pack in mid-air and smiled at him. ‘
Oui. Vous remercier, le cousin
.’ She tossed the pack on the dash and started the engine. ‘Ready?’

‘As I can be.’

Traffic was heavy as storm dwellers emerged into a new day. Damage was light considering the storm barely reached a Category Two at ninety-six miles an hour. Some of the power grids were down; others were unaffected.

The greatest damage came from the storm surge, which was unnaturally high because it came ashore at the precise time of the highest tide of the month. The small communities had weathered hurricanes before and with only a few exceptions, were equipped to handle everything other than excessive water heights.

Using her intimate knowledge of the area, Latasha took us along back roads enabling us to dodge security.

We pulled in Edmund’s drive around mid-afternoon. Though I was only family to him by marriage, he and his clan welcomed me with the usual Louisiana hospitality.

Over thick, black chicory coffee and his wife, Zozette’s, sugar-coated beignets, we laid our plans for retrieving the package from the bus terminal. ‘
Oui
. Me, I can take you across the river, but not tonight. We go first thing in the morning.’

Latasha pulled out a cigarette then offered one to Edmund who took it. ‘Shouldn’t we go tonight? Get it over with.’ She touched a match to it, then to her cousin’s.

‘Edmund’s right,’ I said. ‘The river’s dangerous enough at night, but after the storm, it would be suicide to try it.’

She glared at me.

Edmund clicked his tongue and arched a skeptical eyebrow. ‘Little girl! Listen to me. Boudreaux be right.’ He held his hands far apart. ‘All I hear tells me it is much too dangerous for you, even during daylight. Me, I hear what you say—why you want to do this. The only reason I help is Leroi. He call and tell me you and Boudreaux here be coming.’

‘Leroi?’ I glanced at Latasha and then turned back to Edmund. ‘How did he know we were coming up here?’

‘Octave, he call Leroi, then Leroi, he call me.’

I should have known that cousin of mine would show up one way or another. While I’ve always had a strong sense of family, Leroi’s was much more intense. Once I had supposed it was the difference in black and white cultures although where I grew up in Louisiana, racial distinctions were blurred by the familiarity of togetherness.

‘All right,’ she said in disgust. ‘Tomorrow. But, early,’ she added. ‘And, we need transportation out of here. To Texas.’

Running his fingers through his long black hair, Edmund pursed his lips. ‘Me, I know how to do that. My brother, Carl, he live up at Pearl River. He meet us on Highway Ninety.’

I licked the powdered sugar from the beignets off my fingers. ‘I thought the bridge was down. I-Ten across Pontchartrain is.’