She chuckled. A thought popped into her head. I’ve never been on this side of the glass.

  “Please look at everyone carefully and pick out who you saw leaving Vivien Bluff’s room and chased for a few blocks,” Zack said in his most official detective voice.

  She studied the lineup for their sake. There was no doubt it was number four. She knew that as soon as the light flicked on. Not a good idea to have suspects place their hands behind their ears. She couldn’t see their profiles, but a tattoo jumped out at her. The first thing she saw was the hummingbird on Felipe’s right hand, just above his thumb. She’d noticed it the first time she’d ever seen him, and today it was a dead giveaway.

  “Number four.”

  “Are you sure?” Detective Guidry said. “Have them turn to the right,” he said into the microphone. “Now the left.”

  “Number four,” Lucy said again.

  Zack slid the microphone stand across the desk and said, “Face forward, please.”

  Slowly they each turned, facing the glass wall.

  “Number four,” Lucy insisted.

  Glaring at Johnny, Zack clicked the mic back on and said, “Cuff number four.”

  On the drive back to the salon, Zack explained his frustration to Lucy. “If this goes to trial, it will be the third time Felipe will face a murder charge, but he has yet to serve a day in jail.”

  “How can that be?” Lucy said, pulling herself up from the back seat.

  Zack peered at her through the rearview mirror. “His fancy lawyers always find a way to get him off when the witness fails to show up to testify.”

  “Cold feet?” Lucy asked.

  “The last witness no-showed the morning of trial.” Zack looked at her again. “And the guy is still missing.”

  Lucy swallowed hard. “I’ll show up, and I’ll put him behind bars forever.”

  The car pulled up curbside. Zack opened the back door for Lucy. He’d explained that they planned to use her testimony to sway the judge on bail. He was sure the judge would side with the DA’s request for no bail based on the first-degree murder charges and the possible flight risk.

  Zack looked Lucy in the eye. “You need to be careful. It could be a few days before I get approval to get you into a protection program.”

  “No way. I’m not running scared.”

  “Just until the trial is over,” Zack said, looking more frightened than Lucy felt.

  “I’ll be right here working every day. You need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “Be careful, Lucy,” Zack said to the back of her head as she walked away.

  No surprise, Mario was still hanging around, standing across the street keeping an eye on the salon. He gave Lucy a nod, and she smiled back.

  Everything at the salon was running smoothly, except waiting for her were three of Vivien’s girls. Good earners, as she remembered. When she’d bought the salon, the night callers hadn’t been part of the sale. With Vivien gone, opportunity was knocking. Only the girls and their clients, some of whom were high-profile people of the community, knew about the after-hours business.

  Lucy’s first instinct had been to shut down the night callers. But the more she thought about it, the more second-guessing took control. While the business was illegal, the opportunity still screamed at her, and it was a cut above the cons she’d pulled in Tupelo.

  She smiled at the girls. “Don’t you worry. It’ll be business as usual.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Annabel made the decisions for Vivien’s funeral, and Lucy paid the bill from the salon’s account. Vivien’s wishes were clear from a handwritten note Lucy had found in some personal items in a keepsake box under her bed. Cremation was Vivien’s choice, along with a simple procession by a few friends carrying her remains in a black box. Her ashes were to be spread around the garden area of the grave of Marie Laveau, the Queen of Voodoo buried in Saint Louis Cemetery.

  The day of the funeral was perfect. Late evening, dark cloudy skies, rainy, just enough to break out umbrellas, and thunder rumbling a short distance away. Vivien’s dream was to have the day be as creepy as possible. Without a doubt, her wish had come true.

  When a chilly gust of wind unexpectedly shook their umbrellas, Lucy glanced at Annabel. It might have been a coincidence, but Lucy took it as Vivien indicating her approval, and Lucy felt Vivien’s presence among them on the dirt road leading to the crypt.

  It was a sad day. They all wished their friend off to what they hoped was a better place. More than once, Lucy was moved to tears. Vivien had been a true friend, and she’d given Lucy the knowledge and the means for a better life. Lucy had looked forward to a long partnership with Vivien, and Vivien hadn’t deserved to die a violent, horrible death.

  If Lucy accomplished nothing else in her life, she’d see Felipe in prison for Vivien’s murder.

  A few days turned into weeks, and Lucy still had not heard anything more from Zack and more importantly, she’d heard nothing from Picklehead or any of Felipe’s thugs. Mario started each morning off with a tap on the salon window before he took a seat at Café Beignet. Lucy often joined him for a cup of coffee, and they chatted. She appreciated that he made himself visible as a cop and her friend. In her mind, he was more like a bodyguard. People looked at her differently when she walked down the street, respectfully saying good morning, some of the men even tipping their hats when passing. Mario the cop brought respect to a woman who now operated a brothel.

  Mario walked a beat encompassing a twelve-block square, and he knew all the business owners. On his breakfast, lunch, and restroom breaks, all the merchants welcomed him. Having a cop walk the area gave the owners a feeling of security, but that still didn’t stop Felipe’s protection scam. The merchants knew Mario couldn’t protect them twenty-four hours a day, so they paid up, and business went along without interruption.

  The only person who wasn’t paying Felipe was Lucy.

  The morning started off well when Ava Weber came in for her appointment. Overhearing another woman’s problem, she recommended the woman talk to Lucy. Ava was still riding a high from Lucy’s tarot card reading months earlier and had been having dinner every night with her husband since then. A credit she gave wholeheartedly to Lucy.

  Of course, Ava didn’t know that Lucy had increased the night-caller hours, with Wednesday and Friday opening at three p.m. by appointment, with the gentlemen coming in through the alleyway door, one of them being Daniel Weber. But Ava could still thank Lucy for getting her husband home every night for dinner. It was Lucy who had recruited Ava’s cheating husband Daniel for a standing afternoon rendezvous with one of her best girls. He paid top dollar and tipped well, and Lucy made sure of two things. He was well taken care of, and he was home by six for dinner with his wife. She thought of herself as a marriage counselor of sorts; she took care of the husband and the wife.

  But the day went south when a young woman came in with purplish blue hair. All but in tears, she told Lucy that to save money she’d dyed her own hair, and it had gone terribly wrong. Lucy assured her that Wanda, a hair color specialist, could make her hair beautiful again.

  Lucy consoled her and off to the wash chair they went. Wetting her hair with some warm water, Lucy applied shampoo, and the color washed away.

  Lucy laughed. “You’re in luck, honey. You bought a rinse, not a dye.”

  The young woman got up, took a towel, and dried her hair. “Yes, I know, but I accomplished what I came in to do. I got you alone.”

  Lucy was caught off guard. “What?”

  “Your police friend can’t always protect you. Felipe can get to you anytime he wants.” She smiled, pointed her index finger like a gun at Lucy’s head. Above her thumb was a hummingbird tattoo.

  Lucy’s eyes widened, not sure if the woman was a thug or more closely connected to Felipe. Maybe a girlfriend, like lovebirds.

  “You’ll never see me coming,” the woman spat. Tossing the towel at Lucy, she walked out.

  It wasn’t like Lucy to get stressed, but the woman had shaken her to the bone. She had more money than ever; it might be best for her and Wanda to run. Testifying was a bad idea. Even if she succeeded in putting Felipe behind bars, one day when she’d least expect it, someone would get to her with two bullets to the back of the head.

  Not long afterward, Detective Nelson and his partner Johnny Guidry parked their cruiser at the curb. Before they walked in the door, Lucy saw the expressions on their faces. They weren’t bringing good news.

  “Ms. Jones, can we talk in private?” Zack asked.

  She took them to the kitchen. They sat around the table and helped themselves to the pot of coffee that Lucy placed at the center.

  “As of an hour ago, the judge set a low bond for Felipe,” Zack said.

  Lucy frowned. “So, he’s out.”

  “I’m afraid so, ma’am,” Johnny said.

  “Doesn’t matter if Felipe’s in jail or out. He’s reached beyond the prison walls already. His girlfriend or bitch just came by and threatened me. They have matching tattoos.”

  “Hummingbirds?” Zack asked.

  “That’s right.”

  Zack exchanged a look with Johnny, then turned to Lucy. “It’s a gang thing. Means she got her wings.”

  “Her wings?”

  Johnny sipped his coffee and rolled his eyes at Zack. “Tell her—she has a right to know.”

  Zack hesitated. “Means she killed someone. Did the wings have color?”

  “Yes, blue and red. Is that a good thing?”

  “No. It means she’s killed multiple times,” Zack said.

  Lucy’s blood boiled and her face burned. Something had to be done. Running wasn’t the answer. “What do you need from me?”

  Zack laid out a plan. The District Attorney of Orleans Parish had filed a pretrial motion. With Lucy’s testimony, there was a good chance another judge would rule in the prosecutor’s favor and reject Felipe’s bond.

  “What time is court tomorrow?” Lucy asked.

  “Ten in the morning,” Zack said. “I’ll send a female cop to spend the night.”

  Lucy thought about the night callers. “No, I don’t want some woman cop babysitting me.” Then she added, “Whether he’s in jail or out, I’m still at risk.”

  Zack nodded. “I understand, but it’s still best if he’s locked up.”

  “If I’m not dead—pick me up at nine.” She gave a slight smile. “Let’s put this asshole away forever.”

  Zack told Lucy he’d call in a few favors and accomplish what the DA’s office couldn’t or didn’t want to do. He’d get some true blue cops to make extra patrols down Royal Street and get one unit to sit in front of the salon that night.

  She might lose a night caller or two as a result, but the police presence would be worth it. When the detectives left, Lucy returned to the salon. She was quickly engaged by Ava Weber and introduced to Margo, the woman who’d shared her problem with Ava. Ava insisted that Lucy talk to Margo, so Lucy took the woman by the hand and walked her to the tarot card table.

  Margo spoke for ten minutes, but never mentioned her problem. Frustrated, Lucy shut her down. “Please get to the point,” she said, flipping tarot cards and moving them around the table at random.

  “My daughter is dating a guy, and I want him gone,” Margo whispered.

  “Let’s make this clear. I can’t get the guy out of your daughter’s life, like in gone forever,” Lucy said, giving her a wink, an added touch she’d learned from Vivien. “You understand.”

  “I understand.” Margo winked. “How much?”

  Lucy sized her up much like a man would. A linen suit, silk blouse, and draped in fine jewelry. She admired Margo’s bracelet. “Did you get that at Boudreaux’s?”

  Margo smiled with pride. “No, my husband bought this for me on his last trip to New York. It’s from Tiffany.”

  Keep talking, lady, the price just went up. She had to smirk; her mentor Vivien had taught her well. Keep the client talking; they’ll tell you all you need to know.

  “My fee is five thousand.” Margo didn’t flinch.

  They went over specifics. Margo’s daughter was eighteen, seeing a twenty-seven-year-old man. The guy’s age was a problem, and so was the fact that he didn’t have an actual job. After hiring a private investigator, Margo had learned that the man pushed drugs on the street but used more than he sold. Margo knew where he lived and the corner where he hawked his product.

  “I need this Ethan guy out of my daughter’s life.”

  From a box, Lucy pulled out a doll. After pushing a three-inch pin very dramatically into the head, she wrote “Ethan” in red across the forehead. Margo, engrossed and watching intently, didn’t blink. Then Lucy gave Margo instructions she had to follow, or the spell wouldn’t work. That was the beauty of the scam. You involved the person, so when the curse didn’t work, the responsibility fell back to the customer. Usually they returned and paid more money for another try.

  Margo held the doll as if it was fragile. Her job was to push the pin in a little each night for three nights and hide it in a dark place.

  “The doll can only do its part when you complete yours,” Lucy said.

  Margo paid a thousand-dollar cash deposit and promised to return with the balance once the doll did its magic. Lucy wasn’t too concerned about hitting the deadline, though she’d try. She got a grand up front and had the opportunity to get more when the hex didn’t work, or when by chance, the guy dropped dead of a heart attack, got hit by a car, or Lucy managed to arrange something else to make him gone forever—the end result didn’t matter. Each scenario got her paid.

  With court in the morning and only three days to satisfy Margo, she had a lot on her plate. Lucy made three trips to the front window. It was near closing time and still, no police car was stationed out front as promised.

  Lucy walked the last customer out and stood on the curb. Even with Picklehead camouflaging himself between a lamppost and a car, she spotted him easily.

  A black and white pulled up. “I’ll be parked here all night, ma’am,” the officer said.

  “Thank you.” Lucy hoped she didn’t need him. She looked back at Picklehead, but the police car must have spooked him. He was gone.

  After dinner, a slight knock on the alleyway door got Lucy scrambling for her gun. Opening it carefully, she saw her first night caller. He’d been reluctant to enter through the front door after seeing a cop posted curbside.

  Lucy calmed him down and served him his choice of drink: a cold flute of champagne. She joined him, saying it had been that kind of day, and had two to his one glass. Intrigued by Walter Ross, a young medical student at Tulane University, she pumped him with questions. Coming from a wealthy family, he wasn’t shy about spreading his money around. An excellent tipper to the girls, he always slipped Lucy a little something extra in her envelope.

  His father, a surgeon, had made a name for himself years earlier doing organ transplants, and Walter planned to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  Lucy walked him to the bedroom and asked the lady he had requested to step outside. Young Walter had a kinky side. He’d asked Lucy to inject him with a small dose of what he called his “feel-good drug.” He claimed it improved his sexual experience. The downside was a full dosage would kill someone in seconds. The syringe was filled with just the amount he required for his sexual pleasure. She pushed the juice in, and Walter became immobile instantly. He could speak and said he was fully aware of his surroundings but would be stationary for ten or fifteen minutes. She had no clue what he was into, but immobile didn’t seem to go hand in hand with sexual pleasure.

  Lucy took the syringe and a bottle that rolled out of Walter’s pocket. She just might have a need for some wonder juice one day.

  The door opened, and his lady of the night asked, “Is he ready?”

  “Honey, you have your work cut out for you,” Lucy said, stepping out and closing the door behind her.

  A few no-shows, probably discouraged by the cop sitting out front, allowed Lucy a chance to close down early.

  Exiting the alleyway door, she took to the street to find Ethan, the dealer dating Margo’s daughter.

  Felipe might believe Lucy would never testify. If so, he was dead wrong. Lucy was rock solid determined to take all the local drug dealers down, starting with Felipe.

  But first up, she had Ethan, a drug pusher with a bounty on his head, and she planned to collect.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucy walked the streets that night looking for Ethan. His preferred corner was on Decatur Street across from the Morning Call Coffee stand. An area Felipe and his gang avoided because of the number of tourists and police. Apparently, Ethan didn’t care how touristy his distribution point was—or maybe there were some perks to being across the street from a famous coffee stand.

  A man crossing the street hunched over drinking a cup of coffee caught Lucy’s eye. When he stopped and leaned against the iron gates of Jackson Square, she figured he might be her man. Strolling in front of him, she said, “Ethan?” He turned his head, and that was all the proof she needed. “Got any nose candy?”

  He hesitated. “Who’s asking?”

  “You selling or talking? I can go to Royal Street and get all the snow I need.”

  “Corner payphone. Pick up the receiver like you’re talking. In the change drop, take the gram bag,” Ethan said. “Replace it with fifty bucks.”

  “Fifty? What is it cut with, gold?” Lucy shot back like she was a pro.

  “Ninety-five percent pure,” he said.

  “Bullshit! No such thing,” Lucy said as she reached the payphone. She took the coke and left the change slot empty. From her purse, she pulled a doll.

  “You didn’t leave the money,” he said. “Pay, or I’ll fuck you up right here on the street.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10