Cold Blood (34 page)

Nick tensed up.

“Hold it, Salina?”

Leroy nodded.

“Yeah. One was called Juda, the other … er, shit, can’t recall right now, but she married. They were real high priestesses. Word is that… now I remember her name, it’s Edith Corbello. She has a daughter, Ruby, ‘bout eighteen, she works in a hair salon. She does some modeling on the side and some new black krewe that’s getting together for the Carnival has put her up as their queen.”

Nick hitched up his jeans.

“Wait, wait, you’re going too fast for me, man. There’s a Juda Salina in LA, reads tarot cards, that kind of stuff?”

“They do a lot more than tarot readin’, Nick. If it’s the Juda that’s related to the Corbello family, she’s almost like royalty in some areasand I don’t mean for the tourists. These are supposed to be the real thing, related to the big voodoo queens they had last century, and they can put the fear of God into people. Like I said, it’s more than booze and drugs gets the kids hanging around those people, and if you got your head screwed on right, you’ll stay well clear of Jones an’ anyone who has anything to do with the Salina sisters. I tell you, you wouldn’t even get me through the door of their place and I wouldn’t go to Fryer’s unless I had a good reason.”

Nick felt uneasy, and his leg was beginning to hurt from all the walking. He rubbed it hard with the flat of his hand.

“I saved the fucker’s life, so maybe he owes me.”

Leroy lit a cigarette, the smoke drifting from his aquiline nose as he looked hard at Nick.

“Pack up and go home, Bartello, don’t you go getting involved in all this shit. Like I said, you’ll come out with nothin’.”

Nick moved painfully down the stairs, past the gym now full of heavy grunts from kids sparring and thwacking the punching bag. It was strange, and it had always worked that way, but the more he was warned off something the more it fed his adrenaline. And he didn’t believe in all that voodoo shit anyway.

CHAPTER

I Lorraine sat on a wide and slippery banquette, richly upholU stered in vermilion silk damask printed with gold fleurs-de-lis, while Lloyd Dulay lowered himself into a matching chair opposite. Lloyd had decided to receive Lorraine in the drawing room to impress her with the full splendor of his house; his improvements to this room were limited to covering one wall with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, in which two Hepplewhite chairs were reflected as though standing in an airport lounge. Golden scrolls and swags were everywhere visiblethe drapes, of course, were a mass of corn-colored fabric tied back with chocolate-box bows, and ornate gilded plasterwork adorned the fireplace, the huge overmantel mirror and the fire screen, which stood in front of two artificial logs on a stand. The central ceiling medallion extended for six feet of plaster wheatears, garlands and rosettes, and another splendid chandelier hung like a huge gilded lily beneath. A number of modern abstract paintings were suspended by taffeta ribbon bows from the picture rail, and every surface in the room was cluttered with lamps, knickknacks, bibelots and bulky arrangements of both dried and fresh flowers. Lorraine hated the place and she was uncomfortable, her mouth dry and the thought of a drink coming persistently to her mind, but she forced it out of her thoughts.

I

“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Page, on a personal matter?”

1

“Yes, Mr. Dulay, I did.”

H He nodded his mane of white hair and pointedly looked at his watch.

I

“Then get to the point, I have people for lunch.”

|

“I am investigating the disappearance of Anna Louise Caley.”

|

“Are you, now? Well, I wish I had a million dollars for every one of the

I socalled agents I have spoken to. Quite truthfully, I don’t think there is

II anything I can add that would be of any use at all. I have business dealings $ ‘ with Robert Caley and I have known his lovely wife for more than thirty | years, so I have known little Anna since she was knee-high to a grasshop’I per.”

,’j She loathed him, his loud voice, his condescending, imperious man-

ner. His vast house made her cringe because it was the very reflection of ‘] the manbig, loud and heavy. She felt there should be a family crest over the doorway that read:

“I have billions of dollars, so fuck you.”

She pushed on.

“Everyone I have spoken to about Anna Louise says the same thing, that she was naive, shy, beautiful. Tell me what you thought of her.”

He closed his eyes.

“She was all those things, and affectionate, sweet, with a smile that would break any man’s heart. I loved that little girl, Mrs. Page, I loved her.”

“Did Robert Caley love his daughter?”

ť

For a fraction of a second he was thrown.

“Why, yes, he was her father.”

Lorraine met the tiny, cold blue eyes.

“What do you think of Robert Caley?”

>

Dulay laughed, but she knew he was confusro.

“Why do you ask?”

She held his nasty stare and he was the one to look away.

“Maybe if he was fucking his own daughter she had reason to disappear!”

The huge man rose out of his seat.

“If you were a man I’d knock you right through that wall.”

“But I am not, I am just investigating the disappearance of a young girl, sir.”

He towered above her.

“Lemme tell you this, Mrs. Page. If I thought for one moment that what you have just said could be true, I’d get a gun and shoot the bastard myself.”

“If you also discovered that Anna Louise was not as sweet or naive as everyone makes out, how would that make you feel?”

“I don’t follow you, Mrs. Page.”

, She took out the photograph, slowly, and his eyes narrowed with sus—

j picion. H He scooped it up in one massive hand and held it up to the light, his eyesight, unlike his presence, not being so strong

“What the hell is this disgusting thing7”

“A photograph,”

she said sweetly

“I know that, woman, but where in God’s name did you get it? Because this isn’t the little girl I knew, this is Dear God, it breaks my heart”

“Maybe Robert Caley isn’t the man y ou know either, so what can you tell me about him?”

He was really shaken

“Does Elizabeth know this exists?”

“Yes”

“And Robert?”

“No

“

He shook his big head, slumping back into his chair

“She was as precious to me as my own beloved daughter. Dear God, why did she subject herself to this disgusting show?”

“Maybe because she was abused, angry, I don’t know All I am hired to do is find her, dead or alive

“

“Is she dead?”

Lorraine looked away

“I hope not”

She could hear the clock ticking on the mantel as he continued to stare at the photograph At one point he withdrew a printed silk handkerchief and wiped his eyes

“I know that Anna Louise has a large trust fund

“

His head jerked up, the photograph forgotten

“Mr Dulay, I am looking for motives for Anna Louise’s disappearance And that is why I am asking you about Robert Caley The trust’s assets amount to one hundred million dollars

“

“Do they?”

he said softly

“I am also aware that right now, with this casino development, Mr Caley is stretched to his financial limits and

“

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‘nd
mor<, ‘ars had been “Nothing’s up, Nick, maybe I’m just tired.”

She hunted for another cigarette in her purse. Nick tapped another out of his own crumpled pack, lit it and passed it to her as before.

“I hate this brand, like smoking something from out of the refrigerator,”

she said, none the less dragging hard on the cigarette, her foot tapping nervously against the table leg.

Nick acted as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Been a tough day, huh?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She reached for a can of Coke that Rosie had left, but knocked it onto its side and the dregs spilled over the table.

“Shit,”

she snapped, dabbing at the tablecloth, and now Nick gripped her hand.

“You’re all stressed out, just take it easy.”

Lorraine bowed her head, holding on to Nick’s hand.

“I want a drink so bad sometimes, Nick, it drives me nuts. It comes over me and I just can’t think straight, or maybe I’m thinking too much… .”

He moved a strand of her hair gently away from her cheek and leaned close to her.

“Just hang on in there, Rosie’s bringing some more Coke an’ I’ll get you some more of your cigarettes.”

“Thanks.”

She liked the strength of his hand, didn’t want to let it go, but she glanced up and saw Rosie on her way back with another bag of Cokes and potato chips. Rosie banged it down and yelled,

“Ah, look what you’ve done to my book, I was reading that and you’ve got Coke all over it! Honestly!”

Lorraine leaned across the table and picked up the blue paper booklet, shaking Coke off it. As she did so, she noticed the picture of Marie Laveau on the front.

“What’s this?”

she asked Rosie.

“She’s Marie Laveau, the most famous voodoo queen ever.”

“Why is this so familiar?”

Lorraine said, almost to herself.

Rosie took the booklet.

“Well, I felt the same thing, like I’d seen it before, her face.”

“The turban, the robes… give it back to me, Rosie.”

Lorraine was up on her feet, walking up and down.

“Shit! I don’t believe this, it’s staring us right in the face, Rosie.”

“What you talking about?”

Lorraine slapped the photograph down.

“This is Elizabeth Caley. She’s got this painting in her drawing room, it’s from a film.”

“No, it isn’t. That’s from a painting of Marie Laveau, I got it from the Voodoo Museum, but you’re right, she’s the spittin’ image of her.” i

“Swamp,”

Lorraine said, clapping her hands, congratulating herself.

“The film was called The Swampit was the first movie Elizabeth Seal made, wasn’t it, Rosie?”

“Maybe it’s on video,”

Rosie suggested.

“Good idea, let’s see if we can get it. She’s a big number around here, so you never know. Attagirl, Rosie, this is really good.”

“Thanks.”

Rosie smiled.

“I mean it, you’re doing goodmake an investigator of you yet!”

Lorraine stood up and gave Rosie a hug, beginning to feel better herself.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take myself off for a snooze. I’m exhausted, maybe take a shower.”

Rosie put the pamphlet away in her purse as Lorraine touched Nick lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m okay, Nick,”

she murmured.

“Don’t keep looking at me. I just need a couple hours’ rest.”

Nick shrugged his shoulders as she walked away.

“What was that about?”

Rosie asked.

“Nothing,”

Nick replied.

“Oh yeah? She looked pretty strung out to meyou think I should go up and sit with her?”

“Nope, maybe get on to tracking that video. I’ll hang around here, wait for Bill.”

Rosie gathered her things together and looked at him sidelong.

“Maybe you’d like to babysit her ladyship? She looked like she needed a friendly shoulder.”

^

“Well, I’ll be right here. And leave the Cok

Left alone, Nick sat toying with the chilled can of Coke, wishing he could go up to Lorraine’s room and lie next to herand not just as a cornforting friend.

The Crawfish Bar sat on a dingy corner of the wharf district, a peeling clapboard building with windows covered in rusting wire mesh. It had been an old grocery store, and you had to buzz the door to get inside; it was clear they didn’t want any casual trade. The place was almost deserted, and Rooney and Harper sat on two stools at a counter against the back wall under the television, the commentary of the basketball game masking the sounds of their conversation.

“I’m not sure if I’m gonna like these,”

Rooney said, looking at his plate of boiled crawfish and the ugly black plastic dish, virtually the size of a trash-can lid, which had been slapped down to take the heads and shells.

“Sure you will. These little critters are known as ‘mud bugs’ because they live in the freshwater streams, and this place, lemme tell you, pal, serves the freshest in the whole of New Orleans,”