To Murder a Saint (Saints Mystery Series Book 1) Read online

  When I awoke in the morning, I felt less dreary. The room was not so bad in the light of day. The sun was blaring through the window which faced full East, shining on Josephine’s old boy band posters. And over the bed was a picture of the two of us as teenagers from when we used to give tours of the old plantation. We were wearing brightly colored hoop skirt dresses, and we had tucked our unnaturally black stained hair up in large white bonnets. We were laughing in the picture at each other, not looking at the camera. It was a candid moment. If I remembered the day correctly it was one of the mornings where Josephine and I had “quality checked” the drinks. That picture was how I wanted to remember her: happy, silly and always a little bit of trouble.

  A spicy aroma crept in from the larger great room, which was adjacent to the bedrooms. I walked out to the kitchen in my sweats to see what was cooking. I found Beau sitting at the table with J.B., Clem and Abolina’s elderly neighbor from up the swamp. Beau had his muddied boots propped up on the table, and Clem was at the stove watching over a steaming pot.

  “Good morning. How you been, J.B.?” I asked.

  “Can’t complain, Fanchon, but you know I still do,” he replied.

  Clem left the pot he was lording over to give me a hug. “It’s a real blessing you’re here. You might just stay here now you come?” He pulled away holding my shoulders and looked like he was about to cry. I headed him off to avoid the tears.

  “What’s in the pot old man?”

  “Come take a lookie, cher.” He said putting his hands together excitedly.

  I peeked over the side and saw a small village of little red Crawfish.

  “Ewe, crawfish for breakfast, Clem?”

  “What you talking bout girl? Crawfish is Louisiana gold.”

  Beau chimed in, “She would probably prefer a croissant and a cup of tea like the queen of England now, Clem.”

  I smacked Beau’s boots off the table and said, “At least tell me there’s cornbread in that stove?”

  Clem opened the stove and pulled out a pan of three-inch thick cornbread. He took it out and set it on the newspaper that covered the table. Newspaper is an acceptable substitute for plates when crawfish and cornbread are involved. I grabbed two hearty slices.

  “I am going to eat this on the run. Beau and I have an appointment,” I said.

  “Oh, y’all got a date then?” Clem asked.

  “They is probably on friendly terms,” J.B. added, prompting Beau to put his head down and shake it. “As young people are so like to do these days.”

  “Nah, nah. We are going to the Alligator Sanctuary to talk to Thibodeaux,” I said. “I am going to wash up. You get your fill, Beau, so we can leave on time.”

  We arrived at the sanctuary ahead of Banyan. Beau and I walked around looking at the cheap concrete enclosures that passed for animal habitats there. The largest enclosure had four hefty alligators sharing what looked like a poorly maintained pool from the 1970s. The water was dirty with grime and bits of trash. The animals in the habitat looked bored and miserable. Like they would love for one of us to fall in, give them something to talk about for the day. It was a weekday, so there was nobody else there. The place was not technically opened to the public on weekdays, though locals would wander by.

  Beau and I were looking over at the large enclosure, waiting for Banyan. It was a warm sticky day and we were both swatting flies away from our faces. After a long wait Beau spoke. “I don’t want to piss you off, but I been real curious. What you think happened to Josephine back in New York? Clem says they found her dead, parts of her missin’. No way to know who? I know you don’t know, cher, but who you think did it?”

  “I really don’t know, Beau. We didn’t know anybody there. Could have been one of the guys she met on the internet, but they never came to our place. Or it could have been a fluke. Somebody found an opportunity to kill, because she left the door open and they noticed. It could have just been somebody who liked killing.”

  “Tell me if you lived in New Orleans and not in your city, would you have thought it was Thibodeaux?”

  I thought on that hard. “Yes,” I said. “It would have been the first name out of my mouth.”

  “That’s something to think on, cher,” Beau said.

  Banyan was walking towards us. I could see approach behind Beau. I had to use my hands as a visor to keep out the sun so I could see him. He looked ruffled.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “You know this damn city. There was music all night long, damn spontaneous music and parades out of nowhere. Every time it got quiet I would hear whoops and saxophones or street singing. Seriously two spontaneous parades went on outside my window last night complete with bands.”

  “That’s New Orleans for you. You must be staying in the French Quarter. You should get a room outside of town,” I suggested. “Maybe at a Best Western or something.”

  “I am leaving tonight,” he said. “I have a few things to check this afternoon, and then I have to go back.”

  We walked around to the back of the alligator cages and down a narrow strip of sidewalk meant for staff. We followed it to a trailer set in the marshy area behind the sanctuary. There was a faded green single wide trailer with white aluminum skirting and a set of rickety stairs. Banyan went up first and knocked on the door. Terry opened the door. He looked like he’d aged a decade. We graduated in the same year but you would never guess it. He had lost all of his hair and some of his teeth. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves cut out too deep, exposing his armpit hair. His shirt was filthy and written on it was an apt description of his physique. It said, “Proud recipient of the dickydoo award for a belly that sticks out more than your dickydoo!”

  Beau said, “Detective Banyan, this is Terry Thibodeaux, and likewise.”

  The men shook hands, and Terry invited us in. The air conditioner-free house felt like a sweatbox, and the brown tattered furniture did not look fit to sit on. Terry took a load off in a brown striped armchair, with a well worn butt groove and the rest of us sat, our arms touching, on the sofa.

  “What can I do you for today gentlemen and my old friend Fanchon?” he raised his greasy eyebrows at me and nodded.

  Banyan leaned forward and said, “We need to know the last time you saw Josephine.”

  “I believe you well know, officer, she has had a restraining order out on me since May 2010. Being a law abiding man as I am, that would be the last time I saw her,” he said.

  “You never stopped by her work or asked anybody about her? You were never by her house after 2010? I would not find anybody who would say otherwise?” Banyan asked.

  “Well, I can’t help it if we occupied a public space now and again, but I can tell you true I haven’t seen her since she left for New York. She kept that real tight lipped. These two,” he said pointing at me. “Just picked up and left a few months back and didn’t tell nobody nothing. So, if you’re asking have I seen her recently, no. That’s a goddamn guarantee.”

  “Can you prove it?” Banyan asked.

  “I sure as shit can. I did shows all weekend long and I heard she died Saturday night. You can find me on any number of tourist cameras if you want. Or you can ask Jimmy. He was filming some of our segments for that there Web site he workin’ on.”

  “Where can I find Jimmy?” Banyan asked.

  “He down Tulane.”

  Banyan scrunched his eyes together. “Did you just say he’s down the lane or he is in two lanes?”

  Terry tipped his head at me and Beau. “They know Tulane.”

  I told him “It’s the university, Banyan. It’s called Tulane.”

  “Y’all can go round Tulane and find Jimmy, but if alls you want now is to talk about Josephine, I have nothing more to say to you gentlemen. Though, you can call round on your own if you want, Fanchon. Need a shoulder to cry on or a place to stay. I’ll set you up.”

  “I’ll see you at the reunion, Terry,” I said standing. I walked out followed shortly by Ban
yan and Beau.

  Beau said, “Don’t know if I need to say it, Fan, but don’t go callin’ round here on your own, ya’ hear.”

  “Obviously,” I said. “I don’t need you acting like my daddy, Beau.”

  “Where can we find Jimmy? If there is tape of him Saturday night I want to see it. I want to be absolutely sure, because it would really be a treat if it was him. That man is a prosecutor’s dream.”

  “I can make some calls and see where Jimmy is. He is an old family friend,” I told Banyan.

  “Can you ride with me and fill me in on Jimmy--who he is and how you know him?” Banyan asked.

  We parted from Beau who said he would hit the casino again to double down on his winnings from yesterday.

  After we got in Banyan’s rental, I told him that Jimmy was with Josephine’s sister, Lisette, when she died in a boating accident.

  “What were the particular’s of the accident?” he asked.

  “They were driving home in the evening in Jimmy’s dad’s aluminum fishing boat. They were lighting the way with a flood light and did not see a patch of underwater roots. They were going too fast, and when the propeller hit the roots it got caught and launched both of them out of the boat. Jimmy landed in the water, but Lisette hit the tree, head first.”

  Banyan didn’t say anything. He just played with the stubble on the underside of his chin for a moment, rubbing his hand forward and back.

  “What?” I asked. “You look like you want to say something.”

  “Did they travel that route a lot?” he asked.

  “Yes, but not late at night and not after drinking,” I said. “Why?”

  “Do you know where they were sitting in the boat?”

  I looked at him narrowing my eyes, “Does it matter?”

  He did not answer, just continued rubbing stubble on his chin. Then he spoke, “Fanchon, if you or Josephine were driving the boat that night, drunk and in the dark, would you have hit a patch of roots in the water hard enough to fling one of you from the boat?”

  I did not answer, but in my head I said, “No.”

  We arrived at Tulane shortly after noon. Jimmy worked in the cafeteria in the main administration building. We parked at a meter and walked through the entry like we owned the place. Banyan did not feel like notifying campus security of his presence so we were there in an unofficial capacity. There were checkers at the entrance of the cafeteria taking swipe cards for student meals. We walked by without making eye contact. Neither of the checkers were interested enough to stop us, so we kept walking until we got to the hot lunch line. I saw Jimmy wearing a hair net over his light blonde curls. He looked up and asked me if I wanted green beans or corn.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, a knowing expression crossed his face. “Fanchon?”

  “You know it, Jimmy. How have you been?” I asked.

  “You know, can’t complain, but I still do,” he replied.

  “Can you get a minute to talk?” I asked.

  He nodded and went to one of the other young men in hairnets who came forward and took over his station. He waved for me to follow him. We went up the service entrance stairs to the second floor and walked out into a large spacious banquet hall filled with made up tables. They were set with tablecloths, folded cloth napkins, china and extra forks.

  “This is the Chancellor’s Hall. They are having a banquet tonight, so nobody is going to be in here. It’s all set for the dinner.”

  He showed us to a window seat near the two story windows that flanked the south wall.

  “This is Detective Banyan,” I told him. He wiped his hand on his pants before he shook Banyan’s hand.

  I started. “We were just out talking to Terry at the Sanctuary.” I paused when I noticed him turning awkwardly in his seat. I was sure Banyan noticed it too. “And, he said that you were filming him Saturday night doing his set at the sanctuary.”

  “Uh, yeah, I was. Why?” He asked.

  “Can we see it?” Banyan asked.

  As Jimmy reached into his bag his hands were shaking.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I just quit smoking recently you know? I could use a cigarette right now is all,” he said without looking up. He pulled out a small silver camcorder and handed it over to me. “It’s the last thing recorded in there. If you hit that arrow button there then the green button will show it.”

  Banyan bent to look at the footage with me. We watched as Terry gave a speech while he was on top of a poor subdued alligator. “Now you see here they got lots of closing the jaw muscle but they got nothing for opening them back up. Y’all want to confuse an alligator give him a little peanut butter. He won’t be able to get his yap open.” Terry went on wrestling the alligator, putting his hands over the alligator’s eyes to lull him to sleep. Terry finally ended by throwing raw chicken at the alligator as it snapped hungrily.

  “So, Jimmy, you are sure this was from Saturday?” I asked him.

  “Absolutely, It’s stamped there in the bottom corner,” he told me.

  Banyan reached for the paused camcorder and examined the date stamp. “These can be faked, you know?”

  “I’ve got no reason to fake it, but you can see there were a ton of people there that night. I am sure you could get receipts or credit cards or something from that night and ask them. They were there.”

  “I will,” Banyan said. Then he rubbed his chin again. “Is there anything else you want to say, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy shook his head. Banyan prodded, “You sure you don’t have anything to say about Lisette?”

  That nearly imperceptible shift happened again, and then he shook his head.

  “Well, we’re done here,” Banyan said. “Keep your nose clean, kid. I might need to talk to you again sometime.”

  When we got back to the car I grabbed my cell phone and sent a text to Beau to tell him we were heading to the Sonic just outside of town. Once we were settled and back on the highway, I asked Banyan what he had in mind when he asked Jimmy if he had more to say.

  “I don’t know yet, Fanchon. I don’t think it was him or Thibodeaux that killed Josephine. I’m going to check flight records you can be damn sure of that. Still, something seemed off. He was setting off my sensors. Something seemed off about him and Lisette.”

  “Should we go talk to the local cops, get more information about Lisette’s accident?” I asked.

  “No, Fanchon. I am not going to get involved in that. The police say it’s closed then it’s closed. I am not here officially, so I can’t get involved. But, I might make a call or two when I get back.”

  I was wondering now, too, if there was more to Lisette’s story. We both rode in silence. I rubbed my chin just like Banyan when I had something on my mind. We pulled up to a call box at the Sonic, placed our order, and sat looking out our windows lost in our own thoughts. The food and Beau arrived at the same time. Beau pulled into a parking space, jumped out of the car and hopped into the backseat of Banyan’s car. “Can one of y’all front me some money for a chili-dog? I lost my damn shirt back there.”

  “I got it,” Banyan said and when the waitress came back he handed her his credit card and told her it was to cover all of us. We ate our dogs, fries and limeades together and rather than talking about murder or mayhem Banyan and Beau went back and forth talking about blackjack strategy. When we were done Banyan said, “I am going to be on my way, guys. I have to get back to the city. If I know more I’ll give you a call, Fanchon. Can you do me a favor and if you hear anything call me?”

  For thirty days and thirty nights I stayed on the bayou waiting for Josephine’s body to be returned so we could lay her to rest. Most of the time was spent out on the porch in rocking chairs with Clem and Abolina. Clem would play folk songs on the banjo and Abolina would cook gumbo. Visitors came and went day and night, paying their respects and dropping off plates of beans and rice. Almost every night we had visitors over to play cards. We played on the porch by the light of the bug zappers.
My mother stopped by one night and told me that they would like it if I could come by. I never did. I had a long time to think about what my life would be like if I stayed on the bayou. Beau was coming around almost nightly. Abolina told me they never saw that much of him.

  At long last, Josephine’s body came, and the funeral planning began. The night before the service Beau came by to pick me up for a viewing at the family’s church. He was wearing a shirt and tie. I noticed the collar of the shirt still had cardboard holding it up.

  When we got to the car I said, “I can see you have been shopping.” I reached over and removed the cardboard for him.

  “Well, I bought it for this, and I thought it would be good seein’ is how I am going to go on a job interview a week come tomorrow.”