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

  “A job interview?” I said quizzically.

  “Well, I was talking to some of the boys round the other night at cards and Sheriff Tipp thought maybe I should try out for the police academy. He said maybe if I pass muster with Sergeant Sherry I could maybe run the radio for a time down at the parish station.”

  “What brought all this on?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Fanchon. Don’t bug me like my mom. Can’t y’all just say, ‘thank you kindly. I am glad you found something useful to do with your time?”

  “Thank you kindly, then. I just thought it was nice is all.”

  “So, I am looking for a future, Fanchon. What you gonna do now Josephine’s come home?”

  “I don’t know, Beau. I’ve been thinkin’ on it. I’ve never been without Josephine. You know she was the one with the plan.”

  “Well,” Beau continued. “I think Abolina and Clem would sure appreciate it if you stuck around a while.”

  I could read between the lines. I was not that thick. I knew Beau was getting attached to me and he meant he would like it if I stuck around. He had been coming around more, cleaning up more, and wearing shirts with sleeves. He even quit chewing. I never reciprocated with Beau because I did not know if I wanted to stay. I loved that I was never alone on the bayou, but I missed having a chance at something great in New York. My life on the swamp would be the same day in and day out. Nobody would ever come there to hear me play a song. In the month I had spent with Josephine’s family I had not seen an instrument besides Clem’s banjo. My musical world would be reduced to nightly bouts of picking away playing folk songs and swatting at no see ums.

  When the little white church came into view it was alive with visitors. The double doors were open, and the steps were lined with people. There were so many cars in the dirt lot Beau had to park in the grass field adjacent to the church, which made our view all the more beautiful. The sun was setting casting a yellow glow on the little church, which was surrounded by grass and wildflowers. Fireflies danced between the flowers, creating glints of light along the ground. It looked like a painting.

  These beautiful country views and the friendly people contained therein were what I loved about the south. In that moment I still hadn’t decided if I could leave it.

  Beau and I were ushered to the front of the church by the pastor who was waiting for us on the steps. She stood me in the receiving line alongside the rest of Josephine’s family. We could hear Clem screaming from the front of the room, and Beau ran to assist Abolina to control him. Eventually, they moved him back to the pastor’s office, so that Beau and Abolina could greet other visitors.

  They returned and stood with me in front of the closed casket. On top of the casket were white and yellow flowers, and next to it were poster boards filled with pictures. I felt déjà vu, especially when I noticed the blue poster board behind me that said “forever sisters.” I remembered that Josphine and I had glued those pictures on when we made that poster for Lisette’s funeral. I remembered that time and never did I think we would need that poster twice.

  We greeted people late into the evening hours. That night took the air out of all of us. We went back to the house, and I wanted nothing more than to deflate into bed, when my phone rang. It was from a number I didn’t know in New York.

  I answered hoping for some news.

  “Hi, is this Fan – Shawn?” The person on the other end of the line asked.

  “Uh, this is Fanchon,” I replied.

  “This is Sarah Wittinger from the Opal Broadway Theater. We are looking for an understudy pianist for our orchestra pit. We are holding auditions next week, and I heard from the conductor at Belle’s theater that you might be a good fit. Would you be able to come by the 14th at three o’clock?”

  “I can be there,” I said. And as quick as that I decided the universe wanted me back in New York. I planned to wait until after the funeral to tell everybody I was leaving.

  The next morning Beau, Abolina, Clem and I left early in Beau’s boat and met a limousine from the funeral home at the shore. We waited for J.B. and his wife to meet us and all rode together to the cemetery.

  When we arrived a small jazz band met us at the car. We were the closest family and by tradition we arrived last. The only arrival after us was the hearse carrying Josephine’s body. As we got out the band started their slow rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In” as a dirge. They followed us playing the song low and slow as Josephine’s body was carried by her pallbearers, her father and Beau among them. They walked her up the grassy hill to her family crypt, which was small, as she was not from one of the rich or noble families.

  With the smaller tombs it is expected that the body goes in first followed by the closest kin, ensuring that those dearest to the dead are given a space inside. I was among the inner circle walking past the other mourners into the crypt first. As I walked past I caught a glimpse of my own father. He was among the mourners standing alongside the path. He took off his hat as we walked by and lowered his eyes. His visage was gaunt, and his blue eyes were bulging. He looked worse than he had the last time I saw him. His presence on this day sickened me. I considered spitting on his shoes, but it would be a distraction on a day meant for Josephine so I suppressed the urge and continued walking with her family. Josephine and the pallbearers were the first in. I followed and admired the well cared for white limestone with ornate floral filigree around the entrance. It was topped with a stone weeping angel at the apex of the door.

  When we were inside the small rectangular space was full with a dozen people. The only light was cast by torches hung on the wall. The band stayed outside but their music could be quietly heard as the pallbearers lowered Josephine’s coffin into a concrete enclosure next to her sister. When she was settled we all said in unison, “ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”

  The pallbearers managed to secure the lid in the same moment that the music came to a conclusion. It was suddenly eerily quiet except for the rustling of Abolina. She carefully placed a wreath of yellow flowers onto the enclosure. Clem started screaming and Beau put his arm around him. He refused to be calm. The rest of the family gathered around him and ushered him out of the crypt, leaving me the last of Josephine’s closest kin in the tomb. In the quiet by myself I kissed my fingers and pressed them to Josephine’s enclosure and did the same for Lisette. With that I left them in the care of their ancestors.

  We rode back from the service quietly. Clem fell asleep in the car, and Abolina was staring out the window. I decided it was as good time to announce my leaving.

  I cleared my throat, and Abolina and Beau gave me their attention. “I just wanted to let you guys know I have some things I have to take care of back in New York, like packing up the apartment. Then, well, I have an audition next week. So, I am going to leave tomorrow. I need to get to a piano so I can practice.”

  “You’re just going to let out like that?” Beau asked.

  “I never said I was staying. I don’t know what I want to do exactly. I just know I have a few things I have to do. I want to see if I can make it still. I barely gave New York a chance.”

  “You can get your own damn ride to the airport, I’ll tell you that much,” Beau said pulling off his tie and throwing it at the window.

  Abolina reached over and smacked him in the back of the head. She looked to me and sweetly said, “Of course you have to go back, cher. And Beau will be happy to drive you. We will welcome you back anytime you are ready for home, my sweet cher.”

  It was a quiet night at Josephine’s family home. Beau did not stay that night and when he showed up in the morning he had nothing to say. We had a silent ride to the airport. When I got out of the car I turned to say goodbye, but he squealed his tires and tore away without a word.

  A suspect in custody

  After my plane landed and before I had a place to stay, I went to the police station. When I found Banyan he proudly told me that the department had looked into his theory an
d they were sure they had found Josephine’s killer.

  “Who was it?” I asked.

  “I formed my theory when we found an alligator wandering Central Park like I told you, and we found another in mid-town earlier. They appeared to be well cared for so we did some research and found there was an exotic pet collector that had three in his apartment. He said they got too big for him so he took them to Central Park and let them go. I think Josephine, being a person who is comfortable around alligators, found one of them and took it home. We can tell from toxicology reports that she had some alcohol in her system. I think, subdued by alcohol, the animal was able to overtake her. We had sanitation workers search and finally they found it, the other stray alligator! He was not far from your house. He is sedated and will soon be humanely euthanized. We would like it if you could relay this to the family.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I screamed loud enough to quiet the station room. “That is the most absurd story I have ever heard. To think that Josephine would bring home a stray alligator, put it in her room and get drunk enough for it to eat her. You saw how much drinking is a part of the culture. She would have to have had more than a little alcohol in her system; she would have to be dead drunk. I saw blood on the ceiling, Banyan, the ceiling! What kind of alligator could do that?”

  “You tell me who it was then if not the alligator, Fanchon. There are no other leads. The two men she dated had solid alibis. Every neighbor in the building at the time of the crime was seen watching your neighbor in 3A be wheeled out by paramedics. Nobody saw a person leave covered in blood. I checked airport records. There is no way Terry flew in, and at least three people place him at the Sanctuary on Saturday night. Your neighbor Jay was walking up the stairs to smoke marijuana with a lady on two, and the old man from the bakery was delivering a box of cupcakes to a birthday party. Everybody who knew her was in Louisiana, and nobody left town. I checked. Where do you suggest I look?”

  “She was torn apart. Alligators don’t do that, and they don’t eat humans unless they are starved. Have them check the animal’s stomach. Food stays in an alligator’s stomach for weeks. There would still be traces of her DNA. There was barely anything left of her. No alligator could do that in a few hours. And what about the size the thing would have to be? You don’t think my neighbors would see an eight-foot alligator? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “We found alligator teeth shards and parts of her had teeth scrapings. It doesn’t explain everything, but it’s the best explanation we have.”

  “How big was the animal you found in the sewer?”

  “It was about three feet long. It might have been able to get in and out without notice.”

  “Then it walked down the fire escape and made a six foot jump? Wouldn’t there be a dead alligator on the concrete if that had happened?”

  “I’ll keep looking for you,” he said quietly. He was gesturing for me to lower my voice. “But, as far as my boss is concerned it was an alligator. He is sending out press releases with warnings about the dangers of keeping exotic pets in the city.”

  I left the police station angry. I knew it wasn’t an alligator. The police didn’t want people to think there was a killer on the loose dismembering pretty young girls. It was far easier to tell people it was an animal, and lucky for them no trial. Just kill the thing. Swift justice, go about your business. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t know who it was either.

  I went back to the hotel I had stayed in before. I knew there was a piano in the lobby, and I needed to practice a piece for my audition. The manager at the hotel told me I could do whatever I liked, and he offered me a better rate than he gave the police. I think he felt bad for me. I knew I was going to have to face the apartment sooner or later to empty it out.

  When I got to my room, I called Jay to ask him if he would meet me there the next night to help me sort what was left. He said, “Absolutely, girl. I can’t believe you came back. We were wondering if they were going to get to keep your stuff.”

  The next morning I woke up early and brought my sheet music with me to the hotel lobby. I ate a cheese Danish off of the breakfast bar and grabbed a cup of plain black coffee. I ate them leisurely while I watched the morning news in the hotel breakfast nook. A segment on a local American Idol contestant losing in the final round was on.

  Then the heavily coiffed anchor turned to the camera and said, “On a more serious note.” A graphic of an alligator popped up to the right of her head. “The police are warning residents not to keep exotic pets in the city after a woman was found killed by an escaped alligator last month in Harlem. Keeping pets, especially dangerous ones could land owners...” I couldn’t stand to watch it. The casual way the reporter flipped her hair and went from American Idol to murder made me sick, without any mention of Josephine.

  I stood up, changed the channel to Sports Center and finished my cup of coffee. Then I went back to the lobby piano. I pounded away practicing and making notes in the margins of my music for the better part of the morning.

  When I had hit a good stopping point I went to the concierge desk and asked for a newspaper. The desk clerk complimented my playing and grabbed one for me. I went through the paper looking at apartments. All were ridiculously priced, especially since I was without a roommate this time around, and I still wasn’t sure if I was going to stay. I decided I would leave it up to my audition. If I got the job I would stay, if not I would go back to New Orleans.

  I had the rest of the afternoon free, and I wasn’t supposed to meet Jay until later, so I lounged around the hotel. I finished the paper and watched the afternoon talk show circuit until I was bored. I leaned back in the bed and thought about what to do next. I could go to F.A.O. and see if they got a new dancing piano girl, or I could talk to my conductor and thank him for the recommendation. In the end, I decided I should go take care of a little task that had been bothering me. I had to pick up my wrap from Jason, and I still felt bad about walking out on him. I was planning to apologize before everything happened with Josephine but I never got around to it. I picked up my phone and listened to the message he left me a month ago with his address.

  I took the subway, two connections away, to Queens. It was easy to find his house from the subway station. He lived on a main road just a few turns from the station.

  His house was the left side of a large, green, two-story duplex. As I was walking up the steps, the image of the Icarus statue from the airport popped into my mind. The angry face burning in the sun ran through my thoughts. I did not know why. I thought about the symbolism, flying into the sun, failed ambition. I did not know why my thoughts turned to Icarus. Going to Jason Stepwald’s house was not ambitious and certainly not akin to flying into the sun. I shut down my mind and dragged myself up to his front door. I gave it a heavy knock and heard muffled noises on the other side. A shadow passed the peephole.

  I heard Jason shout from the other side of the door, “Just a minute.”

  He pulled the door open and held out an arm which had my wrap draped over it. “I thought you had forgotten about this, and I didn’t know where to find you. The police told me they didn’t know if you were coming back.”

  “I didn’t know if I was either,” I told him. “It’s been a rough few months. I am sorry. I owe you an explanation for what happened on our date.”

  He opened the door and gestured for me to come in. He asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “Sorry. How I left things was bothering me. I wanted to apologize for walking out on you in the restaurant. You were trying to give me a good date based on what it said in my profile, but my roommate filled all of that out. I never even looked at it. I don’t like fine dining. I don’t like Sex in the City, and I actually hate oysters,” I said laughing.

  He returned my laugh. “Oh, well I am glad you told me. You didn’t seem like you were having a very good time.”

  I said, “Maybe I can buy you a burger or a pizza? I feel bad that I walked out
and left you with the tab.”

  “You want to order in now? I know a place, and you can tell me all that’s happened in the last few months. I did too much talking on our date. I don’t know anything about you except your name. Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Yes,” I said and dug it out of my pocket. I handed it to him, and he went to a drawer in his kitchen and opened it. He pulled out a menu and started dialing.

  “What toppings do you like?” he asked.

  “Anything is fine. Supreme is great,” I said.

  He nodded his head and stepped into the other room with my phone. He left the coupon drawer open and I walked over to close it. When I did I noticed an elaborate box on the counter. It was wooden but carved to look like reptile skin. It had fine ridges and bumps and was burned in certain spots in a way that made it look like skin with scales. I ran my fingers along the top. There was no discernable lid. When I brushed my hand on the side, a ridge appeared giving away where the box opened. I slid the lid off and examined the contents. On the top of the pile sat a gold chain, a heart charm, and a set of keys. Then, shining below I noticed a small glint of green. I pulled out the keys and there it was: a bottle of green glitter nail polish. My stomach dropped, and I turned to run for the door. When I did, I found Jason standing in my way. He was wearing army fatigues and in his hand was a sword, the edges of which looked like teeth. He had a wild smile on his face. I could see now that he was fit, not like he looked in his suit the night I met him. I had thought he was lumpy, but it wasn’t fat. It was that he was wearing fatigues under his suit.

  “Is this her nail polish?” I asked, knowing the answer.

  He smiled. “Isn’t this a fine weapon, Fanchon? I was afraid you might put it together, the teeth and my time in the Kiribati Islands.”

  “Put what together?” I said.

  “All this time I have worried, and it seems for nothing. You weren’t even paying attention, Fanchon. I told you about the Kiribati Islands when I met you, the place about to be underwater. I was so free talking to you because I didn’t think you would live through the night. You were full of surprises, swamp girl. It turns out you weren’t smart enough to remember that little detail.”