Gator Aide (3 page)

“Took five shots to the head.”

The sight of the gator helped to ground me, momentarily taking my mind off the girl in the other room. I used to watch Harry Milsus click into his “forensics” mode and tried to copy him as best I could now. Running my fingers over the skull to probe the depth of each bullet hole, I appreciated the training I’d had at Glynco. But even more importantly, I said a silent prayer of thanks to Harry. He’d been of the belief that both agents and inspectors should know a lot more than what we were taught. He was right. He also knew what I was up against in a male-dominated Service, determined not to lay out the welcome mat for the few women trying to kick in its doors. Becoming my ally, he’d taught me all he knew.

By convincing me that, unlike wildlife inspectors, agents got all the interesting undercover work, along with job promotions and pay raises on the way, Harry was one of the main reasons I’d decided to become an agent. When he had learned I was being sent to Louisiana, he insisted that I bone up on reptiles. Harry would be happy to know that his many hours of work with me were paying off now.

All five bullets had gone in at an angle and were shallow. One of the facts Harry had made a point of was that gators’ skulls are extremely thick. Whatever had killed the critter, my guess was it hadn’t been five bullets that had barely nicked the skull.

“At least his death was quick. He wasn’t sliced and diced like the girl in there.” Santou leaned against the doorjamb, watching carefully as I tried to think of what else Harry would have told me to do.

I found myself glancing over my shoulder at the soles of my shoes. Caked with Valerie Vaughn’s blood, the heels were slowly drying to a dull shade of red. Feeling woozy, I brought my focus back to the gator, though there wasn’t much else to examine at this point. The rest would have to be kept for a forensics expert. The problem was that we didn’t have one down here, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that Charlie would send the gator out to Fish and Wildlife’s National Forensics Lab in Oregon. Though the lab and its work were world famous, it didn’t set well with Charlie.

“That damn thing’s nothing but pork-barrel politics, soaking up money we need out in the field.” That was his mantra whenever there was a budget crunch. It also saved Charlie from ever having to defer to anyone’s judgment other than his own.

Though this wasn’t yet a fully grown, fifteen-foot gator, I found it hard to digest the fact that someone had been crazy enough to keep it as a pet in the middle of the Quarter.

“I don’t think my office received any complaints about an alligator being kept here. Do you know if N.O.P.D. ever had anything reported on this?”

“We don’t get reports on this kind of stuff,
chère
. Too many other strange goings-on happening here. This gator death probably doesn’t mean much of anything. There are lots of weirdos working the strip. Keeping a gator as a pet was probably a kinky turn-on for some of her johns.”

My mind wandered, trying to imagine what sorts of kinky things one could possibly be involved in with a gator. I must not have been creative enough. My mind drew a blank. Glancing up, I caught Santou’s stare, along with the impression that if I couldn’t figure it out, he certainly could.

“I’ll arrange to have the gator picked up. My boss will probably want to check this out for himself. I don’t suppose you found the key to unlock this chain?”

Santou folded his arms across his body. “Nah. One thing I don’t bother with is carrying a set of keys around to unhook gators. We’ll get him out of there the best way we can. Don’t you worry none about it.” He made a motion as if to chop off the leg, sending a shiver through me.

I ran my fingers over the bullet holes once more, the rough, scaly hide pulling at my skin. No bone fragments were sticking up. No splintering had taken place. The skull hadn’t even been nicked. Along with the strong odor of gator, the smell of death and decay had already begun to set in. I sensed Santou kneel down behind me and immediately tensed up, continuing to concentrate on the gator.

“What makes you so sure this gator even belonged to the woman in there? Why couldn’t whoever murdered her have brought it with him in order to terrorize her?”

Santou raked his fingers through the front of his hair, snarling his nails in a disarray of curls. As he leaned in close behind me to glance over my shoulder, his breath grazed the tip of my ear.

“Look, if I’m gonna go to all the trouble of sneaking some big-ass gator into a hooker’s apartment, the least I’m gonna do is to torture her with it. Maybe feed the gator a chunk or two of her. Otherwise, why bother? Besides, those slices were finely done. That’s a very artistic job out there,
chère
. Took the guy hours.”

Sometimes I’m slow on the uptake. The reason why I had been brought in at all was just beginning to dawn on me. I was cleanup patrol. Turning around, I found Santou watching me with the predatory gaze of a raptor as it circles its intended victim.

“So, I was called in to save you the drudgery of filling out paperwork on a dead alligator that happens to be chained to your murder victim’s bathtub. Have I got that about right?” Tired and still damp from my daily dousing of rain, I would gladly have given all of this up to climb into any hot bath at the moment, with or without a gator chained to the leg.

Santou kept his voice low, forcing me to lean in toward him. “Let me give you a word of advice here,
chère
. Don’t try to make this more than it is. It’s just a dead gator that some whacked-out stripper kept for kicks. Nobody cares, least of all your boss. This kind of thing always means more paperwork for everyone involved. It’s just the breaks that you’re the one that got stuck with it this time.”

My body ached as I pulled myself up off the tiles. This wasn’t what I needed to hear. What I needed was dinner and a solid night’s sleep, not to be arguing in a bathroom with a dead gator at my feet and a mutilated girl outside the door.

“You know what, Santou? It’s just some whacked-out stripper in the other room. Who the hell is going to care about that, either? I’m getting the distinct feeling that it won’t be you. For the record, as far as I’m concerned, until I find out there isn’t a tie-in here, I’m taking it for granted that there is. I’m also going to find out what it is, even if I do it on my own time. Until then, don’t even consider telling me how to do my job.”

Shoving my way out of the bathroom, I elbowed through the crowd, using jabs I hadn’t called into play since jostling on a subway. I pushed past paramedics leaning against a wall, bored with the waiting; past the scene investigator busy capturing Valerie Vaughn’s image with his camera as he focused in on every slash along the curve of her hips, each and every puncture wound outlining the roundness of her breasts. I made a determined effort not to look in her direction, not wanting to be just one more idle gawker caught up in the drama of the moment. Santou caught up with me as I reached the door.

“Hey, hey, hey. Hold on. I don’t like rash judgments, and you just made one in there.”

I opened my mouth to protest but Santou cut me off before I could even start.

“I made one, too. I don’t come up against much of this wildlife stuff. But you’re right. It’s your job, and I suppose you know what you’re doing. If I was out of line, I apologize.”

I didn’t comment as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“What say we pool our information? You poke your nose around and learn something, you tell me, and I’ll do the same by you. Who knows? Maybe you’re right. Maybe there is a tie-in here.”

His eyes darted across my face with a wound-up intensity that was ready to snap.

“Tell you what. There’s someone I want to question tomorrow about this murder, who would probably be interesting for you to meet. If I set it up, I’ll give you a call.” He squinted at me, the corners of his mouth curled into a lopsided grin that clashed with the brusqueness of his stare. “Deal?”

“What makes you think I could possibly have access to any information that you might want in my little old wildlife job?”

Santou arched an eyebrow, acknowledging the dig. The movement of his hands caught my attention, and I glanced down to see a strand of garnet and onyx rosary beads woven between his fingers in a game of cat’s cradle.

“
Chère
, you strike me as a wolverine. You got something in your craw, you won’t let it go till you’re good and ready. I figure you’re going to shake this one around for a while. Who knows what you’ll come up with? I’m placing odds it’s better to have you as an ally than an enemy.”

I liked that.

I had just sunk chin deep into a hot bubble bath when my doorbell rang. The buzzing stopped, only to be replaced by a persistent knocking at the door. Finally, I heard my landlord in the hallway calling out my name.

“I’m in the bathtub!” I hollered back.

Surrounded by a po’boy oyster sandwich, a glass of mediocre red wine, and
People
magazine, my evening was set. I listened as the lock on my front door clicked open and Terri Tune came in. Clad in a bright red kimono and backless slippers, he carried two large piña coladas on a tray. As the other tenant in the building, and my designated best friend, there was no keeping him out of any locked door. I had given up trying a long time ago.

“Oh, please. Are you still drinking that crap?” Picking up my glass of wine, he sniffed it and proceeded to dump it down the sink. Then he made himself at home on the toilet seat, decorated a la Terri, with a pink shag carpet. The kimono slipped open as he crossed his legs, casually dangling a slipper from his toe. Terri put me to shame, taking more time to shave his legs than I did my own. Removing the paper umbrella from the frosted glass, I took a sip.

Terri had made it his business to take me under his wing from the first day I met him. Having bought the building ten years before, he informed me that he was particular about whom he’d rent to. That I had been an actress and came from New York were all the criteria he needed. That I loved Tennessee Williams as much as he did had clinched the deal. Working on Bourbon Street as a transvestite performer, he had saved his money to invest in real estate in the French Quarter. His best advice to me so far had been, “Don’t plan on meeting Prince Charming. A girl has to learn to invest wisely for her old age.” I couldn’t agree with him more. I just didn’t seem to be able to save money.

Picking up my po’boy sandwich, he shook his head in resignation. My mother would have been appalled at my diet as well.

“And you call this dinner?”

“Actually, I call this lunch, dinner, and a late-night snack all rolled up in one.”

I’d caught Terri’s act a few times. It was good. Tall and slender, he did dead-on impersonations of Barbra Streisand and Marilyn Monroe. His latest addition was Madonna. Among a few intimates, he could be persuaded to perform Tommy Tune, his idol after whom he had rechristened himself. Having danced in a roadshow of
My One and Only
for a couple of years, Terri soon decided that living out of a trunk and eating fast food was no way to live a long and healthy life, and had set his sights on something more steady—the clubs of Bourbon Street.

I had never seen Terri without his makeup. He said that if God wanted women to be natural, She would never have invented eyeliner and lipstick. Since leaving New York, I had become rather lax about my own appearance. Terri had set out to change all that, giving me a facial and a makeover the day I had moved in. I had to admit, he looked great. In fact, I might seriously have killed to look that good. Though his own hair was light brown, he preferred to be seen in a blond curly wig. With big blue eyes and dimples, he was the girl I had spent my teenage years trying to be. He was the best friend I had. I knew we would never fight over the same man. I just wished we wore the same size clothes.

I filled him in on the case over on Ursuline Street. It didn’t surprise me to learn that he had known Valerie, albeit slightly. The people who worked the strip were like a small family. Most had come from other places in the country—small towns where tolerance was a little-known word—and from families that wished they would just go away. They had. They had come to Bourbon Street and found a home. Like a carnival freak show, they performed for people who came to gawk and stare. But they were carnies in spirit only. They didn’t need to travel on. New Orleans had taken them in with open arms and a yearly Mardi Gras. Terri floated the small paper parasols from our drinks on the soapy bubbles of the bathwater.

“I liked her. She was a nice girl. Though Val had her problems, there was no denying that.” Terri ran his finger around the foam that had encrusted the lip of his glass.

“What kind of problems?” To me, Valerie Vaughn was still just a body resembling a picture puzzle that had been pieced back together, the tiny lines etching which part fit where.

“Oh, she bounced around a bit. She used to dance topless over at the Baby Doll, but she couldn’t keep off the powder and started missing shows. Finally the Doll House took her in after she promised to go straight. She still hooked on the side, as far as I know. But I had the feeling she was into some weird shit. Word around the strip was that she had a guy involved in local politics sniffing around her. She was always looking for that Big Daddy. Val was the type of girl who either partied too hard or went into a shell. She had stopped partying lately.”

“What about the alligator? They found a ten-footer chained to the leg of her bathtub.”

The dye from the parasols had begun to run, staining the bubbles a drab shade of purple. I found myself thinking of Valerie and the fine slashes that had been carved into her skin. A sliver of flesh edging each pencil-thin wound had been tainted the same dingy hue. Pricking one of the bubbles, I took another sip of my drink as a shiver ran through me.

“You mean Hook. Yeah, Valerie had a thing for him. She was a local yokel from the bayous. She brought him with her, said it was the only thing she kept to remind her of home. Raised him from a baby. Used to boil chickens and feed him one a day. She said he was a notch above most men—she had gotten him to stop eating raw meat.”