CHAPTER SEVEN: We Don't Care How They Do It Outside
For about the millionth time that morning, Cayenne looked at her watch. It was almost 10 a.m. Surely the police would be over there by now, Cay thought. Surely they would have found the headdress right in the front closet, and either Daphne or Star or both would be in custody. She paced across the printed rug spanning her small room and Roux whined in the corner. His master was starting to get on his nerves.
Cayenne had tried to keep busy by finishing up one of her last insurance reports. She had turned her computer on and was trying to focus, but her mind kept drifting to a well kept house in a neighborhood on the edge of town ever since Rufus told her that the daiquiri had officially tested positive for tampering and a search warrant had been issued.
Dr. Jules Grandbois, the famed coroner and newly appointed head of the Forensic Lab in New Orleans, had led the assault, contacting the Crime Lab in Lake Charles to follow up on evidence related to the death of New Orleans resident Elena Terrebonne. It turned out that the Chief of the Crime Lab in Lake Charles had been an old classmate of Grandbois's. After catching up on family and mutual friends and swapping a few hunting stories, the Lake Charles chief was in a conciliatory and cooperative mode, especially since Grandbois hinted that they needed good folks in the New Orleans Lab. Joy was cleared to test the daiquiri for suspicious substances. She already knew what the results would be, but being a true scientist, she carefully reran her tests on another sample of the same daiquiri and came up with the same results. An unnaturally high level anticoagulant rodenticides, or a kind of rat poison commonly used throughout the South. Common to the south. Uncommon to the daiquiri.
Rufus referenced the report in his call to Chief Bull Fourchere and included copies of Cay's written testimony about seeing an item from the dead woman's car in the home of Daphne Carter. Rufus tried to appeal to the Chief's sense of honor between police officers, but it was clear from the start that Bull was pissed at the intrusion. Rufus turned alpha male and spent a lot of time bullying and threatening on the phone before Fourchere agreed to seek a search warrant for both the home of Daphne Carter, and the trailer of Tommy, the Daiquiri Shack employees.
"He did not appreciate me butting my police stick into his business, and I guess I don't blame him. Said that Mrs. Chamblee Phipps was a real nice lady and she and her daughter would never be involved in something so crass."
"I forgot to tell you that I think they are dating." Cay added as an afterthought.
"Well, that makes sense then as to why he wasn't paying attention to the leads. Anyway. He's going for a search warrant this morning at court and should be over there sometime this morning. They'll be searching Tommy's place too and the daiquiri drive through. " Rufus paused. "They better find something, boo. I spent a lot of credibility on this one. God help me if I ever have to work with Lake Charles again. I asked him to follow up with me, but I suspect my phone calls are not going to be returned for awhile."
"Thanks, Rufus. I know that we are on the right track."
She was replaying the conversation in her head for the seventh time and making the familar voyage across the rug again when she heard a familiar blip from her computer. She glanced at the screen and saw that Kristina had come on line.
Kristina Guilliams was the owner with her husband Stan of the Stew du Roux, a delicious café in New Orleans that was home to good food and a neighborhood atmosphere. It was one of the first cafés to reopen after the hurricane and business seem to be better than ever with people hungry for Cajun and Southern cooking the way they remembered it. Kristina was one of Cay's best friends and she had helped Cay crack the Yellow Magnolias case with her knowledge of African American folk lore and legend. Cay had invited both Stan and Kristina to the Cajun Extravaganza. Cay genuinely believed Kristina could win the New Orleans Division of the Cook-Off, but secretly, she hoped they would come because Cay was homesick and dearly missed her New Orleans' friends.
She clicked on the icon representing Kristina and typed.
CMDR: Good morning k. whassup?
She hit send and waited. Her screen soon blipped again with Kristina's response.
KG: Morning, Cay! How's LC?
CMDR: Wild out here. You & Stan coming out to LC for the cook off? I be jonesing for your gumbo
KG: Not this year. MG toned down but will stay and do what we can. NO is going to come back.
CMDR: DISAPPOINTED! I MISS YOU!
KG: disappointed too! wanted to wrestle that boudin ball recipe from your friend Bernard. Cajuns are only ones who do it right-crunch on outside, juicy on the inside.
CMDR: How about a deal? I get his recipe …. you send Stan's gumbo down with Marcy.
KG: Deal. Mambozo is coming out with Marcy, I hear.
The next message came quickly.
KG: M. been training for that fun run. Decided to shape up after Kat. So far dropped three pounds. Good for a chicken I guess
Cay stared at the screen. At first she thought it was Marcy who was entering the run, but then she realized Kristina was talking about Mambozo. She started to type.
CMDR: What run is he talking….
Kristina's reply came back before she could finish and send.
KG: Got to go. Delivery at the back door. Stan's in a state. Love you, stay safe and come home soon! XXOO
Kristina's icon grayed out and Cay was left staring at a motionless screen, a little confused and nursing a strong longing for her New Orleans friends. She decided to call Jacques Teutite and fill him in on the new instructions for Nicolette's dress for the Mardi Gras Gala, to be held on Lundi Gras, the Monday right before Mardi Gras day.
Before Katrina, Jacques Teutite had owned one of the most well-known and respected fabric, tailoring and antique bead shops in New Orleans. Not much had changed after the hurricane except that the business was temporarily moved out to Metairie until the French Quarter site was fully restored. Teutite had survived the disaster by having a thriving internet business, keeping much of his inventory offsite, and following a well thought out emergency business plan when the hurricane first threatened the coast line and later as the floods rolled through the streets of New Orleans. Cay was surprised. Jacques was fun to be around, a bit outrageous and campy, and always ready to party New Orleans style. She had forgotten that he was also a successful businessman. Or at least had a good business manager that he listened to.
"Darling, you caught me at a good time." Cay heard him yell to the front of the office. "Stephanie, take over, will you? It's Lake Charles on the line." He got back on the phone. "Honestly, one would never know that this city is practically dead. Half the city still doesn't have electricity, another third is flattened to the ground and still, my business is booming. But enough about me. I hear I'm supposed to help you with a dress. I'd be delighted."
She filled him in on the details, but decided not to tell him about that the first two queen candidates had died suspicious deaths. She knew he'd love the gossip behind the stories, but she wanted to keep him focused. Size four dress, something sparkly, astronomy, French girl with classic features, headdress-the bigger the better. Urania, the Muse of Astronomy. The sun, the moon, the stars.
"Urania! Girlfriend, I'm not even going there. But I have a great idea in mind. Are you sure this girl is adventurous? Will she wear anything?" He chuckled. "You know I just love an adventurous queen!"
Cay answered, "She's going to marry an alligator wrestler, so she's got to have something in the adventure department The Krewe of Muses will help you in anyway they can. Anna Marina is a good seamstress. She can do any sewing or detail work. Marie Marguerite's beading is to die for, so just tell her what you want and she can do it. And Marie Katerina," Cay paused. "Well, Marie Katerina would be happy to fill up your gin and tonics for you."
"Sound like I'm the head of goddamn department of efficiency! Sparkly, hmmm... Goddess of Astronomy...Let me draw up some ideas. Give me Anna Marina and Marie Marguerite's numbers. We'll put together something fabulous."
"You think you could come on out?"
"Definitely, love, for the ball at least but I must be back in town for Mardi Gras Day. I've been invited to ride with the Big Boys of the Mystic Krewe of Comus. I rode last week on the Chamber of Commerce float. Can you just imagine? I'm respectable now. Love and kisses now. Don't go turning country on us, girl. Come back home soon."
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By noon, Cayenne couldn't stand her restlessness anymore. She was going crazy in her own skin. She convinced herself that there was nothing wrong with doing a little drive by Star's house to see if the police were conducting their check. When she got there, there were two police cars parked in the wide driveway.
A strong curiosity seem to physically pull her out of her car and make her walk toward the door. The door was slightly open, and Cay strained to see through the crack, expecting to see police ripping out drawers, dusting down prints, and rifling through papers. Instead, she could saw a boyish looking, tousled haired officer in the hallway flirting with Daphne. She was returning the flirtations in full, smiling and touching his arm as is he was the most wondrous thing in the world. Cay shook her head in disgust. The police office caught the movement outside of the door, swiftly walked over, and barked authoritatively.
"Ma'am what are you doing here? This is an official police site."
Daphne put her hand on the officer shoulder and patted it affectionately while she said in a loud hoarse voice, "Benny, that is that detective who called in the false complaint."
"Did you look in the closet, officer? That's where you will find the property of the deceased." Cay prompted, pushing herself into the hallway and closing the door behind her.
Daphne yelled hysterically towards the dining room. "Mother! That woman is here!"
"It was right here in the closet. Did you look in there?" Cayenne started heading toward the closet, but was blocked by Benny's right hand. Cay noticed that his left arm was back towards Daphne, as if protecting her from this insane intruder.
"M'am, I need to ask you to leave," the young officer asked, obviously pissed that his tryst was interrupted and obviously putting on a show of machismo for the tender Daphne.
At that point, a tall, broad- shouldered bear of a man with the posture of a Marine and the demeanor of a Penitentiary Warden filled the hallway. He sported a crew cut of bristly graying hair and moved inside the well exercised, lean body of a middle aged man. This must be the infamous Chief Bull Fourchere himself, Cayenne thought.
"Young lady, this is the scene of an investigation. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." His voice boomed, leaving no doubt who really was in charge in this part of Louisiana.
Cayenne extended her hand. "Chief Fourchere, I am Cayenne McKenzie Del Roi. I'm the private investigator who observed the presence of material of the deceased in this house and if I can be of any assistance or help…" Cay let her words trail upon seeing the scowl that spread across the Chrief's face.
If she thought that those words would endear her to the Chief, she was dead wrong.
"So you're the nosey dick who has the New Orleans Police Department breathing down my neck and making out like we've never had to solved a murder case before." He poked his muscular index finger in her face. He was close enough that Cayenne saw an ugle blue vein pulsing in his left temple. "Let me tell you that we have been doing our job just fine without some muckety-muck in the big city folks offering up his suggestions that I am not running my department right. I suggest that you tell your friend TEE-BEE-DOUGH to turn his attention back on the hell hole in own back yard and let us poor, dumb country folks alone."
From behind Bull, a soothing voice spoke up, "Now Bull, she was just doing her job, as misguided as she was." Star Chamblee Phipps moved gracefully to the side of Bull, and it was not lost on Cay that she wrapped her well manicured, cinnamon painted nailed hand like a protective talon around his upper arm. She was dressed in a well cut, wool grey skirt, topped with a soft pink cashmere sweater. A flowered silk scarf was wrapped around her hair which towered skyward, and her skin cast a luminescence that seemed unnatural. Her voice was gentle and beneficent. "She just overreacted, I'm sure. I would just imagine that being a detective trains you to see the worst in people. Please, Ms. Del Roi. We were just about to sit down for some lunch. I do hope you will join us."
She steered Chief Bull back to the dining room table talking to him gently about "bygone being bygones" and the "Christian thing to do is to forgive."
Cay was stunned. She yelled down the hallway. "But aren't you supposed to be searching the place?"
Benny, the young officer, turned around. "We didn't find anything. No clothes, no hat, no poison. It was a bogus tip." He turned and offered his arm to Daphne.
In the dining room, folks were settling in around the table. Cay couldn't stop herself. "Well, how hard did you look?"
"That's enough. This is official police business. We searched the premises and found nothing but the hospitality and graciousness of this fine woman and her lovely daughter." Bull snapped. Then he turned to Star and said kindly. "Sorry it took so long. I called ahead to make sure that this was a convenient time for you."
"I do appreciate the call, Bull. It allowed me time to make some sandwiches for our dedicated public servants and allow me to show my appreciation for dedicated service to the community of Lake Charles." Star paused and leaned over to Daphne who was still in coquettish conversation with young Benny. "Sit up, dear, and don't slouch, " she whispered, harshly.
She passed a plate of delicately cut sandwiches and fussed over the table of uniform men. "Cherry Chicken Salad, anyone? Here, Chief, let me fill up your iced tea."
"Appreciate you putting yourself out like this."
"My pleasure indeed. It's the least I can do for you hard working boys."
"I can't believe this," Cay said, putting her hands on her hips as she stood in front of the table. "You warned her you were coming? And now you are sitting down to a cozy little lunch with a suspect? A woman is dead and you are eating sandwiches?"
Bull's temper flared again. He stood up at his place at the table. "My investigation has shown that woman who went off the road was soaked in whiskey from her own bottle which we found under the seat of her care. She was bound to kill herself, with or without poison. And just because you are taking the opportunity to smear this fine woman and her lovely daughter doesn't change those facts. I have searched these premises myself and have found nothing of a suspicious character in this house except for maybe a nosey Yankee detective who can't take no for an answer."
Bull Fourchere cooled down a little and tried to regain control by sitting down. "Now I know that you are all in a heat because of this beauty pageant coming up. You girls take this all so seriously. You just need to work it out and be civil. No need to accusing people of murder and lying and nonesuch. This ain't the big city now. This is Lake Charles. We don't want none of the gang stuff around here.
He took the linen napkin to the side of his plate and tucked it in at his shirt collar. "Now, each of you put up a pretty girl and I'll decide. No need to turn this all into a cat fight."
Star purred as she carried the plate of croissant sandwiches over the big man's side. "More chicken salad, Chief Fourchere?"
"Why, thank you kindly! I think I will."
"Do sit down, dear, and have try some of this Curry Chicken Salad." Star offered to Cay. "I do believe that this recipe is inspired."
"Now, Miss Star, that's very nice of you not to hold a grudge against this here detective. I think, young lady, that you owe this fine hostess here an apology." Bull barked at Cayenne as if she was a raw, unbroken recruit going through boot camp. "How about it, Ms. Del Roi?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Chamblee-Phipps," Cay replied. "I've already made plans for lunch."
CHAPTER EIGHT:
Capitaine! Capitaine! Voyage Ton Flag!
Copyright by Aileen M. McInnis, 2006. All rights reserved. Contact the author at aileen_mcinnis@yahoo.com .
