Kristina rummaged through her desk drawer and found some yellow tempera paint that she had used for a poster last Mardi Gras season. It wasn't the exact color that Mo had used to cover the diamond, but it covered the jewels adequately and dried quickly. She and Cayenne took turns blowing on the jewels after each coat. When it was dry enough, Cayenne replaced the headdress in the box the same way that they had found it. Kristina found a piece of velvet and reverently placed in the box to cover the headdress.

"This baby has been through a lot," Kristina said, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Let's hope we can pull it off."

Cay tried to phone Rufus again, but he was still out on a particularly nasty murder case. She left a message on his voice mail quickly explaining about Eliah and her suspicions about Dumont. She told him to call the Krewe du Couture and gave him Mary Dan's phone number.

Then she called Mary Dan to warn her that Rufus would be calling and to hang tight until he contacted her. Mary Dan was crushed.

"They took her under my watch, Cay," she apologized. "I'm sorry I let you down."

"Hey, Dinah gave it a good fight. I heard you got a punch in as well."

"I bruised my knuckles and broke two ribs, I think. Samantha was in on the melee, too. She got a good stab in with her scissors. I think the Krewe is making up for losing Hillary to the Rubboard Killer last year. I'd break two more ribs if I could have prevented the kidnapping."

"What did the kidnappers look like?"

"They looked like bad caricatures of what thugs are supposed to look like. One was skinny and the other was big. Both white, goonish looking with bandanas over their faces. Of course, we pulled those off in the scuffle, so we all got a good look at them. But then the skinny one pulled a gun at one point and starting waving it around." Mary Dan's voice shook with emotion. "We just couldn't stop them from taking Eliah."

"Well, keep Dinah and Samantha locked up tight for their own protection." Cay said. "Let Rufus know that he might want to check the emergency rooms for two goons with stab wounds and a black eye. "

"Be careful, Cayenne. Those men meant business."

*****************************************************************

The corner at Magazine and Canal held a newspaper stand, a pawn shop, two tee shirt shops and a wig store. Cayenne felt self conscious standing on the corner waiting for something to happen or for someone to talk to her. She held the package in her hands and stared at everyone who walked by. Kristina hung out near the newspaper stand. Stan was gazing in the pawn shop window pretending to be interested in an battered Martin guitar hung from the ceiling.

About 2:15 p.m., a black sedan pulled slowly around the corner and stopped in front of Cayenne. The windows were tinted so Cayenne slowly approached the vehicle.

"Please don't think I'm a streetwalker," she said under her breath as she slowly approached the car.

She was expecting a window to roll down and she glanced toward Kristina and Stan. Instead, the two doors swung open suddenly. One man from the front seat and one from the back jumped out and grabbed Cayenne from either side. They threw a towel over her face and shoved her roughly into the back seat. One of the men jumped in next to her and roughly grabbed her wrists. "Don't even think about moving," he snarled and she felt a sharp point poke her in the ribs. The other goon ran to the other side of the car. The doors were barely shut before the car squealed out onto the busy street. Cayenne could hear Stan shouting at the car, but she knew it was useless.

She sat in the middle, like the unwilling meat in a thug sandwich. The men said little, except for "Turn here," and "Down this alley." She guessed they were in the French Quarter because the driver went slow, and she could feel the bumpy streets beneath. She could also hear the bar music drifting from open doors passed by on the journey.

At one point, the driver got frustrated with the tough guy commands. "C'mon, man. Let's just go there. Stop this spy shit routine."

Cay gasped. Raynaldo was driving the car.

Then the car suddenly stopped, left the engine running and she was roughly yanked out of the car and guided through a doorway. She was pulled by her captors through a door then down some hallway until she felt she was in a large room. She could hear the squeaking of soft soled shoes against the highly buffed floor. The journey stopped abruptly. She was shoved in a chair with her blindfold left on. She automatically went to take off her blindfold with her now free hands, but her hands were yanked away from her face.

"Ah, Miss Del Roi. Thank you for accepting our invitation." She heard Dumont's familiar arrogant snarl. "Bubba, take off her blindfold but tie her hands tightly together."

"You really have a goon named Bubba working for you?" Cayenne cracked. She felt a stinging slap across her face. She decided that silence might be a better tool to use.

Her hands were yanked behind her and tied so tightly she could feel the harsh rope furrow into her wrists. The blindfold was yanked from her face. Her eyes hurt against the lights of what seemed like a museum hallway. She looked around and let her eyes adjust.

Cay looked out on what she figured must be LaTourne's New Orleans Museum of the Sons of the Confederacy, filled with crowded exhibits crammed with Confederacy and Antebellum memorabilia. Glass cases contained dozens of Confederate uniforms, canteens, medals, guns, swords and dozens of documents. One whole wall held maps of major battles and pictures and narratives of battles. Down the hall, Cay could even see exhibit cases with the tell-tale sheets and hoods of the Klu Klux Klan and newspaper clippings. She could only guess what point of view of those exhibits presented in the narratives. The whole place reeked of Dumont LaTourne.

She turned her observations on the man who had slapped her. Mary Dan had described Bubba well. Bubba was beefy with a florid face and an oafish manner about him. He sported a bandage on his recently injured hand. Cay notice he also wore a rather dolt looking expression on his face when he forgot to scowl and make like a bad guy. Cay guessed that it wasn't an act. Bubba wasn't very bright.

"Be quiet, bitch." He growled as he strutted over near Dumont LaTourne and crossed his arms and stood guard.

"Hart, bring in the girl." LaTourne shouted down the dim hallway.

She heard sticky footsteps coming behind her and she turned to see Eliah with her hands tied behind her back. It took a moment for a shocked looking Eliah to register that Cay was in the room. A tall skinny man was dragging her by the arm and shoved her in the empty chair next to Cay. Cay smiled to try to reassure Eliah.

"Cay!" Eliah sounded tired and scared.

Hart, her jailer, looked like hell. His left eye was puffing up red with a streak of black developing quite firmly beneath the rim. He also wore several seeping burns on his hands, the size of dimes. Way to go, Dinah, Cay said to herself.

"Are you okay?" Cay asked Eliah.

"As long as they don't make me look at these white trash exhbits!"

Hart leaned over and yanked her hair.

"Quiet, Mag scum!"

"Quite a shiner you got there. Looks like you lost." Cay could not help quipping. Again, Bubba stepped forward and slapped her hard.

Dumont tisked. "My, my. These girls are showing a little spirit, aren't they, boys?"

LaTourne turned to Cay. He was holding the box in his hand and he gestured it toward her. "Merci, my dear, for bringing back to me what is rightfully mine and my father's and my great-great-great-grandfather's."

He opened the top of the box as he spoke. "I am disappointed that you didn't come to me sooner. I could have made this worth your while and avoided the messiness." He stopped and looked at Cayenne as if he was looking a maggoty piece of meant. "I didn't know you had such a loyalty to the other team."

He opened the box and pulled away the protective velvet piece. He dropped the box and held up the headdress. "At last, it has come home. I had it once before, but your father," he directed his words at Eliah now, "did not recognize my legitimate purchase and proved to be quite difficult."

"You bribed a pitiful drunk to betray my father and steal it!"

"Property of the tribe, my dear. He believed that he had a right to the tribe's belongings and who am I to second guess a 'Yellow Magnolia.' " He flexed two fingers on either hand to simulate quotes, speaking in dripping sarcasm. "I told him that I would find a buyer for the diamonds and give him 10% of the cash. I saw my chance when Montana had knocked out the poor drunk in the scuffle. I finished him off and wiped the prints from the gun."

Dumont laughed, then moved closer to watch Eliah's expression. "Then I told the police I saw your father running away. Who's going to take a black man's word against that of a upstanding member of the business and museum com-muu-ni-tee?" He drawled out the word. Cay was repelled by this greasy, arrogant, nasty man.

"Unfortunately, I could not get Montana to give me the headdress in exchange for changing my story. " He snarled his lips and a crazed, hateful look came into his eye. "So I let him go to jail to teach him a lesson. I didn't know he was released early, so I missed my chance to meet him at the door and continue our conversation."

Eliah began to weep, "All over a stupid headdress? You are a monster!"

LaTourne cast a pitiful look in her direction. "We both know it is more than a stupid headdress. Surely your father told you as much." He opened the box and pulled out the headdress. He waved it at Eliah, continuing to needle her with his sarcasm and his barbs. "Ghastly, isn't it? Probably infested with lice and vermin sitting atop all those nappy heads. Legend says that the Yellow Magnolias keep their fortune tucked into the seams and only a Montana can wear it."

He held it up to the sky, like offering a sacrifice to the gods. "My family got those diamonds from Monsieur Jean LaFitte himself. Thanks be to God that they have finally been wrested from the hands of the infidels and returned to their proper home." He held it up to the heavens, as if offering a sacrifice to the gods. "Granddaddy Fontainbleau, here is your stolen treasure back."

He inspected the newly sewn and kneaded the beaded pattern between his sausage-like fingers. "Ah yes, I feel them right where I thought they would be. The treasure has come home."

Cay was watching Eliah. She could tell that the young woman had noticed that the jewels were painted a different color, but she could also tell that Eliah had no idea why. Eliah did not know about the diamonds. Mo did not have the opportunity to warn her.

Dumont took the two sides of the inside seam of the headdress and ripped it apart. Eliah gasped.

"The treasure!" Dumont proclaimed dramatically. Cay could see he was crazy, mad. Just like dear old great, great, great grandpappy.

He shook the lumpy contents out onto his hand and gasped. Three plastic King Cake babies rolled out onto in his palm. One rolled over the edge of his hand, falling to the floor and bouncing several times before landing akimbo at Cay's feet. Both Bubba and Hart snickered.

Dumont looked puzzled and then a shade of a fiery sunset flushed his face when he understood that the joke was on him. He walked slowly over to Cay and slapped her so hard she saw stars.

"I am not amused." He said, throwing the headdress to the ground and grabbing Cay by the shoulders. He shook Cay with every word. "WHERE ARE THE DIAMONDS? THEY BELONG TO ME!!!"

Cay thought she was going to pass out from the force of his shaking. She said nothing. Dumont finally let her go with a final shove.

"What do you want us to do with them, Mr. LaTourne?" Bubba snarled.

"We can't leave them here. It's too dangerous. But I am not through with these swindling, Indian sluts." Dumont barked out an order. "Take them down to the back room of the Martini. Someone has those diamonds and we'll use these two as bait to get them."

He turned to Eliah, knowing full well that his words were aimed toward Cayenne as well. "Bubba said your father died calling out your name. " He picked up the torn headdress and set it haphazardly on Eliah's head. "Perhaps you can return the favor and do the same for him when we kill you and make it look like an accident."

"Take them away" He barked, waving his hand dismissively. He turned his back to the group and started walking angrily down the aisles of his creepy mausoleum surrounded by antique ghosts and the centuries old obsession of revenge.

Copyright by Aileen M. McInnis, 2005. All Right Reserved.