A Masquerade of Saints (Saints Mystery Series Book 3) Read online

  We hurried until the police officer in my driveway shouted, “Is somebody there?”

  We stood still and silent, and then I suddenly remembered the pit bull. The two of us were still, but I heard the distinct sound of a chain moving about the yard, until it touched my leg and dug into it as the dog moved.

  The officer lifted a flashlight to the yard, when he did the chain flew furiously forward burning the outside of my good leg. I lifted my foot to move and the chain snapped tighter to my other leg.

  The dog ran until it had let out all of its chain, and then it started barking and growling. The officer shined his flashlight on the dog’s face. “Dumb mutt,” he mumbled.

  He clicked off the flashlight and turned back to the house. He walked up the back steps and hit the back door with end of his flashlight. I couldn’t see Beau, but I reached my hand out to him and pulled him with me to the other side of the yard. When we picked up our feet the chain slackened, and I knew the dog was heading back to us. I whispered, “Run.”

  Beau sprinted and it didn’t take long for him to be practically dragging me. I could hear the chain clanging faster and faster as we ran. The cop flicked on his flashlight again and pointed it in our direction. I could see the light bouncing around to my left and kept moving. The light shined on my leg and we heard the officer call for backup on his radio, and then jump off the porch to run in our direction.

  We were to the other side of the yard, and I could see the footbridge over the canal in the distance. We heard the chain behind us stop moving and then move in another direction again, clinking fast. We got out of the cover of the back yard and stepped into the street. As soon as our feet hit pavement we heard a shot behind us.

  I screamed and said, “Stop, Beau. They are shooting at us.”

  He said, “Not us, the dog, Fanchon.”

  Then he continued to pull me to the footbridge. Another cop car was heading down the side street towards us with its flashing lights on.

  Beau saw it, too. The car started to slow by my house but the officer must have caught sight of us. He zoomed quickly past my house and the dog’s house towards us. Beau and I hurried over the footbridge and towards a wooded area.

  Two officers got out of the car and yelled something. I did not hear it nor did I plan to stop if that was what they were asking. Beau lifted the bag off of my back as we ran and threw it over his own back. He pulled me to help me keep up with him. We found a section of bushes between two houses and he pulled me to the center with him. As soon as he was sure we couldn’t be seen he took one of the masks out of the bag, handed it to me and said, “You wait here a few minutes, and then meet me up at the parade at Claudia’s cousin’s, got it?”

  Before I could answer he was gone, running twice as fast as I could back to the main road.

  I stayed in the dark, looking around. Nobody appeared to be following me. While I was in the dark I slid my tight tank down my legs, turned it inside out and pulled it back up, letting the black satin that lined the inside face out, which would look fine, but it left the unbelievably sharp sequins facing in. The zipper, now facing in was cutting into my skin. I put on my sun mask and started calmly for the open road ahead.

  As I got closer to the parade the sidewalks became dense with people. It was easy to blend in with the throngs of partygoers moving up and down the street. I saw police at the intersection, watching the barricade to block traffic. I jumped in with a group of frat boys passing the barricade and went by completely unnoticed.

  When we reached St. Charles Avenue, the sidewalks were filled and rowdy. The floats could be seen over the heads in the front of the crowd, but the best view was to be had by children sitting atop A-frame Mardi Gras ladders. A float titled the Bearded Oyster was just passing as I made my way up to the main strip. When I was on the street to get to Claudia’s cousin’s house, one of the chubby boys in the frat took notice of me.

  “Hey, sunshine,” he said. I did not answer and walked briskly away from him.

  The boy was walking faster and from the slur in his words I could tell he was at his party limit. “Hey, sexy sunshine. Won’t you shine down on me?”

  When I turned to look at him I saw that he was pointing at his crotch and laughing as he said, “Down on me. Get it?”

  “Go away!” I shouted and started running. I was only able to move in small bursts, because the crowd was thick with people standing still to watch the parade. I started to make good headway on him, until a group that was assembled for a photo blocked me. Just after they said “cheese” I picked up my foot to run and the frat boy had caught up with me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  I turned around and said, “There’s a moon that goes with this sunshine, and if he sees you touching me he’s gonna kick your ass.”

  He reached his hand into the front of my shirt and asked, “Want to earn some beads?”

  He yanked down, but I knew the shirt was too tight to budge. Before he took his hand out I made a fist and punched him as hard as I could in the nose.

  I only looked at him long enough to see red flowing freely from his nostrils before I took off. The only clear path down the street was through the base of the ladders meant for the kids. They were all lined up in a row at the front of the street, leaving just enough space for me. I bent down and ran quickly through them, only looking back once to see that I had lost my fat frat boy.

  I got through two blocks of ladders before I finally saw the two story brown manor house. It was once a home for one family, but had been split into four apartments. I saw Beau in his moon mask looking over the side of the balcony. When he saw me he jumped up and waved. I ran to the front door and it buzzed to open before I even reached for the knob.

  I ran up the steps and found Beau waiting for me at the top, his mask off. I pulled mine off and ran up the stairs to him. Without realizing it I practically jumped on him as he embraced me.

  I felt my worries melt away as he held me. I almost forgot I was on the run from the cops.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I stayed tucked in to his chest for a moment and started to cry.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

  “I’m just glad to see you,” I said.

  He let go, and I turned to look in at the party.

  “You think anybody is going to call the cops on us?” I asked.

  “Nobody here knows the cops are looking for you. Shit, it’s not like this is going to make the news and nobody up there is watching T.V. anyway.”

  I had been to the apartment once before. It was large, with high ceilings and modern fixtures. The furniture was all rented and nice. The best feature of the apartment was the large balcony that overlooked the parade route.

  In the sparsely furnished living room the giant T.V. was off, as Beau said. The room was filled with people playing beer pong, snacking on king cake and drinking beer. Beau showed me to the kitchen, where my roommate Wyatt was working the keg.

  “How you doing tonight, Fanchon?” he yelled over the noise.

  “Pretty shitty,” I yelled back.

  “Laissez les bon temps roulez!” he said, reminding me that I should be having fun.

  He pumped a beer for me and I took it to be polite, but I was not in the mood to drink. I walked out to the balcony and sat the beer on the edge of the railing, and then took a seat on a porch swing.

  I was looking in the direction of the parade, but not really watching it. My mind was fully occupied with other things.

  Beau walked out, picked up my beer and sat next to me. After a minute he turned and said, “What’re you thinking ‘bout?”

  “I want to know why Du’Ponde told me to wash my hands so much. I want to know if somebody really meant to poison me, and I hope now that it happened she can tell me who really did it.”

  “We’ll go talk to her tomorrow then,” he said. “First thing.”

  “Where are we going to stay?”

  He looked around the balcony. “What you
talkin’ bout? We stay right here.”

  “I think the police will eventually look for me here.”

  “Nah,” he said. “All the people that know you are here are with us.”

  After watching the road looking for police for a long time I decided he was right. We put together a plan for him to get money from an ATM, stay at the party house for the night and go find Du’Ponde in the morning. Depending on what she told us, we would try to find Remy and Curly to see if they knew who had the poison. If I didn’t have any solid leads by then I would turn myself in and hope Banyan could clear my name.

  The

  madame

  I awoke the next morning face down on a shag rug. Beau was sleeping on one side of me and on the other side there was a young lady in a sleeping bag with hundreds of beads draped around her neck and as far as I could see no shirt.

  I sat up and took in the room. I was in the living room surrounded by people on couches, the floor and even under the beer pong table. The apartment was littered with empty cups and plates. The patio window was still open, and I stepped outside to look at the aftermath of the parade. St. Charles was clear again and cars were back on the road. There were beads in every tree and bits of shiny trash on the sidewalk, but the street looked like business as usual.

  I turned back to the apartment and heard the wall phone ring.

  I stepped over a man and woman sharing a sleeping bag to get to it and found a breathless Claudia on the other end.

  “Fanchon, thank Heaven. Shit. You and Beau gotta get out of there. The police stopped by your place this morning and talked to Grant who told them he saw you at my cousin’s house last night. The police are on their way. Grant is such a darn fool.”

  “Don’t you want to know why they are looking for me?” I asked.

  “Shit,” she said. “I know you and Beau are good people. I don’t care what they want you for. Just get the hell out of there.”

  “Thanks, Claudia,” I said, but she had already hung up.

  I slammed the phone down and jumped over the sleeping bag girl. I got to Beau and gave him a nudge with my foot.

  “We gotta go. The police are coming,” I told him.

  He jumped up faster than I thought he would and pulled on his shoes.

  He went to the closet in the living room and pulled out our bag. While he did that I grabbed a piece of king cake out of the opened container on the counter. I handed a piece to Beau, and we nibbled on it while we walked down the stairs and out the back door. We found a path between two houses in the back, we took it a few streets over until Beau changed direction and steered us in the direction of the trolley car.

  Beau turned and asked, “Madame Du’Ponde at Jackson Square, right?”

  “Right,” I told him.

  We kept a steady pace until we got to the trolley. We jumped on the car as it nearly pulled away from the curb. Beau put money in the electronic machine next to the driver and I followed him to the back of the bus. We had to hold the overhead bar as the seats were all taken with people looking like they were on the first leg of their walk of shame.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  “Wait for Madame, see if she knows anything. Then head down to the bayou and see what happened with Remy and Curly. Don’t suppose you know anybody with a car we could borrow?”

  He smiled at me.

  “You do?” I asked.

  “I got us a real nice ride. Not far from the square neither.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Well it ain’t at Enterprise, I’ll tell you that much,” he said raising his eyebrows.

  The stop for the square came quickly. We took a few steps towards the open green space but none of the psychics had set up shop yet.

  We decided to purchase clean shirts at a souvenir shop while we waited.

  The little shop where we had previously purchased hot sauce was open. Beau purchased a black Saint’s t-shirt with faded white writing and a gold Fleur-de-lis. I picked up a black tank top with a matching gold emblem.

  Beau changed his shirt in the middle of the store exposing his golden-brown six-pack abs. I felt my heart beat a little faster when he lifted his arms over his head to pull on his shirt, watching the line from his belly button to the low waist of his jeans. As soon as his head was through the top of his shirt I made sure to pretend I was looking at something else.

  I changed in the dressing room, which was just a shower curtain wrapped in a circle in the middle of the store. I noticed when I took off my bustier that they had left impressions in my side. It was a huge relief to be back in breathable cotton.

  We strolled over to Café Du Monde and found a place under the striped awning to sit. The place was packed, but the wait staff knew how to move things along quickly. They came to us with coffee in hand. We ordered a half dozen powdered sugar covered beignets. We took two each and stuffed two in our bag for later. We savored the warm treats, leisurely sipping coffee in between bites. The warm, almost chocolate-like flavor of the chicory soothed my nerves. I looked at Beau and said, “That’s the first time I have had coffee with chicory in months. They don’t even have it in Yankee coffee.”

  He said, “Shit, I know. The first time Abolina and I got a coffee in New York we both spit that shit right on the ground. We thought it was rancid. How can people drink that bitter crap?”

  I smiled at him. “I learned to order with cream there.”

  He acted like he was trying to get something gross out of his mouth thinking about New York coffee.

  “Yeah, it was a lot to get used to,” I told him.

  “Nobody tells you how flavorless the North is. And it ain’t just the coffee.”

  I knew what he meant. On that morning, sitting with Beau looking out over the square glowing golden as the sun came up, with the sounds of the Mississippi around me I couldn’t think of any place I would rather be. I let my hand rest near enough to Beau’s for our fingers to touch, he moved his hand over mine and I saw a hint of a smirk cross his face.

  We drank more coffee than either of us needed, wasting at least an hour in the café. After we had our fill we finally crossed the street and walked past the horse drawn carriages to psychic row. It was what we called the sidewalk along the east gate where the psychics offered their services.

  The row had filled with psychics, their card tables and their sandwich boards announcing the rates that they charged to peak into the future. We walked down the row, staying close to the gate and dodging the calls from the fortune tellers offering to show us our destiny. When we finally found Madame’s spot we were surprised to see she wasn’t there. There was another psychic sitting at her site. She was wearing a bright purple dress and matching purple feathers in her hair. Her hands were outstretched holding the hand of a man in a fanny pack. As we approached, she was telling him that he had long life lines, though by the look of the fanny under that pack I thought she was wrong.

  Beau interrupted her reading and said, “Where’s Du’Ponde?”

  She looked up from life lines and waved for Beau to go away.

  “This is her spot,” I said. “I need to talk to her.”

  She huffed and looked back at Fanny Pack's hand. “She been gone since yesterday. Maybe she got that stomach bug that’s been going around.”

  I looked at Beau, “That’s weird, right?”

  “Sho-nuff,” he said. “Let’s go on down the bayou.” He pointed to the west and said, “We need to get our ride.”

  We walked through town and past the trendy district at least a mile until we reached a storage unit facility just inside the bad part of town. It had brick walls and dirty green and red doors covering the stalls. We walked past the narrow orange units at the front to the larger units in the back.

  When we got to one of the larger stalls Beau walked up to the padlock and pulled out a key.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  He shrugged and pulled up the metal door revealing a vehicle I knew well
and loathed. It was my old boyfriend Jori’s Ford Fiesta, painted to look like the General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard, complete with a Confederate flag on the roof. The flag was offensive to northerners because it was a symbol for slavery, but this particular version of the General Lee was also offensive to southerners because of the crappy paint job. The flag was crudely painted and didn’t even have stars. Jori used spray paint cardboard to make the flag on the top and free handed the 01 on the side of the door but his hand writing was so bad the one looked like a seven. It was all around the most offensive vehicle in Louisiana.

  “We can’t drive around in this, Beau,” I said. “It’s too conspicuous.”

  “Nobody knows I have it and nobody will be looking for it.”

  “Did you tell Jori we were taking this?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nope, I own this beauty.”

  “Why on earth would you buy this and why would you keep it in New Orleans?” I asked.

  “I bought it for Josephine.”

  “She never told me she bought this.”

  “She never did officially. She died before she paid me for it.”

  “I don’t understand why didn’t she tell me she bought it.” I asked.

  “She didn’t tell you a lot of things, Fanchon. You’re just gonna have to live with it.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “She took her secrets to the grave with her.”

  “Like what?” I said.

  “For one thing, there were two sets of keys to this car. I mailed one to her, and when we went through her things in New York I couldn’t find the other set.”

  We heard a siren behind us and saw a police car roll slowly past the entrance to the storage facility.

  “Do you think they are looking for me?” I asked.

  “Nah,” he said. “Not unless your brother or sister is dead.”

  I felt the weight of that in my heart and was about to cry when Beau said, “Time to go, cher.”

  The General in the bayou