Mind Games (9 page)

Exhausted, Diana rested her head on Lucier’s shoulder. “This is my fault,” she whimpered. He started to say something, but she had closed her eyes, and he didn’t want to disturb her. Instead, he held her, unwilling to let her go, knowing that he should.

At five a.m., Lucier answered his cell. They found Eleanor Hartwell’s lifeless body.

Chapter Ten

Through a Third Party

L
ucier tried to convince Diana to remain at the hotel, but she insisted on going with him. He relented, conceding her special talents might mine significant clues.

When they arrived, yellow tape blocked off the area. Police cars flashed strobes of blue lights in the early morning dusk; patrolmen warned away the all-night revelers who wandered into the park from the Quarter. Lucier guided Diana around the path to avoid messing up the crime scene. Rain threatened, prompting investigators to speed up their search before a downpour washed away clues. Jake Griffin descended on the new arrivals like a voracious vulture.

“What does Ms. Racine have to do with this, Lieutenant? Why’s she here?” Griffin followed Lucier so closely that he crashed into him when the cop stopped and turned around.

“Jake, we just got here. Give us some breathing room, will ya? Ms. Racine is here at the request of the police department.” Lucier hated police scanners. They were responsible for the news jackals flocking to crime scenes, destroying trace evidence and proving the worst of nuisances.

“Didn’t Ms. Racine do a reading on the victim last evening?” Griffin asked.

“No, on her sister. Come on, Jake, let me do my job. If we find out anything, you’ll be the first to know. Right now, I have nothing to report.”

“What about you, Ms. Racine? Did you see this in your reading? Is that why you left the stage so abruptly? Did you call her, Lieutenant?”

Diana started to say something, but Lucier silenced her with a raised hand. He faced Griffin. “I told you to leave the lady alone. She doesn’t know any more than we do right now. And if you get in the way of the crime scene, I’ll have you physically removed. Then I’ll make sure you’re the last one to get any of tonight’s details. Understand?” Lucier didn’t wait for an answer. After he made sure the area had been checked thoroughly, he took Diana’s arm and led her to where Eleanor Hartwell’s body lay crumpled on the ground.

Diana shrank back. Her skin matched the victim’s ghostly color in the white heat of the illuminating lights.

“How are you doing?”

“Two bodies in two days. Like old times,” she mused, pulling her gaze from the macabre sight. “Do what you need to do; I’ll wander. Don’t worry, I won’t mess up the crime scene. I know better.”

Lucier turned to speak with the forensic specialist while Diana strolled near the walking path and benches. Beecher approached his boss holding a notebook.

“Her underpants were ripped. M.E. said vaginal fluid suggests sexual activity. We’ll have to wait for the full autopsy report, but a cursory examination indicates death was caused by a crushed windpipe.”

“Auto-erotic asphyxiation?” Lucier asked.

“Possible.”

“What the hell have we got here, Sam? Are these sex crimes or some kind of vendetta against Diana Racine? She’s the conduit in both murders, and the killer has gone out of his way to make sure she is.”

Beecher lowered his voice. “This is none of my business, Ernie, but―”

“But what?”

“Well, it’s five in the morning, and I heard Ms. Racine’s voice in the background when I called.”

“Nothing happened, Sam. The scarf delivered to her door put her in a panic.
I stayed until she calmed down, and then she fell asleep. That’s all.”

“I understand the attraction, Ernie. She’s a good-looking woman. I don’t even think she’s a phony anymore, but she’ll be gone in a few days, off to the next show in the next town, and you’ll still be here with a hard-on.”

“Thanks for your concern, Sam. I appreciate it. But I’m a big boy. Like I said, nothing happened. Probably won’t either, even if I wanted it to.” A vision of Papa Racine flashed in his mind, and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the evil eye the old man projected outside Diana’s dressing room door. Maybe it was just a recurrence of his paranoia. “And I don’t.”

Diana’s raised voice distracted them as she tried to extricate herself from a persistent Jake Griffin. By the time Lucier intervened, her face changed from pale to furious red.

“Jake.” Lucier grabbed Griffin’s arm and pulled him away. “Get the hell out of here, or I’ll have one of the uniforms haul you in to the station. See what kind of story you can write from behind bars.”

Griffin grumbled, then scurried to his car and drove off in a belch of exhaust smoke.

“The man came on like a bulldog. He wouldn’t leave me alone,” Diana said. “I wanted to smack him one, but as scrawny as he is, he’s still bigger than I am.”

Lucier grinned at the mental image of Diana taking on Jake Griffin. Seeing the extent of her anger, she might have had a good shot at him. “It’s all right. He’s probably afraid you could take him. He won’t be back.”

She poked him in the ribs. “Smart-ass.” She tugged on his arm. “Come over here, Ernie.” She walked him to one of the benches. “I got strong vibes here. I think Eleanor Hartwell sat on this bench.”

“I’ll make sure the crime scene people go over this area.”

She scanned the scene. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Neither do I, but I’m putting a twenty-four hour guard on you until we find out.”

“You think he’s after me, don’t you?”

“More like he’s trying to psych you out. Why is anyone’s guess.”

Diana wrapped her jacket tighter, suppressing a shiver. “Do you think he might go after my parents to get to me?”

“I’m not taking any chances. I’ll put a man on them too.”

She moved closer to Lucier. “Can’t you stay with me? I’d feel a whole lot safer.”

He felt her heat and backed up a step. “That wouldn’t be professional. I guarantee my boss wouldn’t think so either.” He watched Diana’s reaction to see if his next comment verified his suspicions. “And I think your protective father might have a thing or two to say about it.”

Diana scoffed. “He doesn’t like anyone I’m interested in.”

Lucier stole a quick glance, then turned away. Diana had the dismissive answers down pat where her father was concerned, but in a few minutes with the old man, Lucier detected all the signs from that had taken him a lifetime to catalogue. He didn’t doubt for a minute he was right. But he wouldn’t get into it now. “Let’s walk the crime scene. But be careful; the lab boys aren’t quite finished.” They walked deeper into the park.

Diana moved in front of him, putting herself in his sight line. “Did you hear what I said?”

He couldn’t avoid her. “I heard. This isn’t the time or place for this discussion.” Sam was right. She’d be gone in a few days. He couldn’t get involved. He was a cop on the job. Period.

Pointing in the direction of the tree, he said, “Let’s look over there. See if you get any vibes.” They headed back to the body, but he felt Diana’s glare burn into him like hot pokers. He wouldn’t look at her.

Charlie Cothran, the coroner for Orleans Parish, knelt over the body. Eleanor’s hands were bagged. “Looks like you’ve got another one, Lieutenant. That’s two sexual murders in two days. Is there something going here I should know about? A serial killer maybe?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, Charlie. I need a report on this ASAP, okay?”

“You got it.”

Lucier approached one of the crime scene investigators. “Got anything?”

“Whoever did this was careful. Scuffed up the ground pretty good. No footprints. So far we haven’t found anything except the body. But we’re still looking.”

“Check around that bench on the path, will you? Dust the railing too. There’s reason to believe something went on over there. I want this whole area under a microscope.”

“Right, Lieutenant. Consider it done.”

Diana walked over to the tree, riveted to the lifeless form on the ground as one is drawn to the wreckage of an accident. “Eleanor looks so much like her sister,” she said. “The feeling that emanated from Elizabeth transmitted from Eleanor. I’ve never received
through
a third party. I found the victims by handling something of theirs, like the pink scarf. This guy is channeling me.”

He put his arm around her waist, and he felt her shiver. When she turned to look at him, he lifted his hand to her cheek, then pulled it away to cover a manufactured cough. “Could he be someone you know?”

“I don’t see how.”

“What about someone you’ve worked with?”

“There’s only one other person besides my parents, and he wouldn’t swat a mosquito. Anyway, he’s not tall enough and I would have recognized him. I’ve searched everyone in my past employ, and no one fits the description, no familiar voice.” She bit her thumbnail. “No, this guy wouldn’t get anywhere near me without a definite purpose. And he’s the only one who knows what that is.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have it in for you, for any reason?”

She shook her head. “No, Ernie, I can’t.”

“What about when you were a kid? Any case make you an enemy?”

“That was over twenty years ago. I honestly can’t remember. Do you think that could be the connection?”

“There has to be one. These deaths aren’t coincidences.”

“I’ll ask Galen. He remembers everything that ever happened in my career.”

Lucier cocked his head in her direction.

“Don’t say a word,” she warned. She turned around and froze.

“What?”

“I just had the strangest feeling, an almost otherworldly sensation of being watched.” She squinted. “Someone over there.”

Lucier swiveled around. “Where?” He started toward the crowd that had gathered, half visible in the morning mist rising off the Mississippi.

“No,” she called. “It must have been a shadow. But I could have sworn…”

Chapter Eleven

Found: Lost Gift Never Lost

D
iana had been spooked by the incident in the park early this morning. The sense of being watched was strong and would have continued to bother her if the headline on the front page of the morning’s newspaper didn’t bother her more.

CHILD PSYCHIC GROWS UP. HELPS POLICE IN MURDER INVESTIGATION

She debated tossing the paper in the trash, but gave in to curiosity and read the article. It pictured Diana reading an unknown subject the previous year during her New Orleans performance. The story, written by Jake Griffin, left out nothing, rehashing Diana’s childhood legend and what he termed “the resulting psychological trauma.”

Where do these guys get this stuff? Resulting psychological trauma. Who ever said that?

Other pictures splashing the page showed Diana at age six after the discovery of her first body and fourteen-year-old Diana debuting as a psychic performer. Griffin exhumed the persistent accusations of fraud and the blatant shamelessness of the family’s penchant for publicity.

No matter what she did, the media slammed her. But more than any time in her career, she wished they’d leave her alone now. Sure, all the notoriety sold tickets, but people were dying, and she might be the catalyst. This time the situation was personal.

* * * * *

“Y
ou’ve arranged to do these readings, Diana. You can’t back out.” Galen paced the floor in Diana’s hotel room. “Your credibility would be shot if you cancel.”

“I’m not sure I can go through with them, Galen. I’m afraid of what might happen.”

Galen hesitated, wringing his hands in knots. “Um, I need to speak to you about that, baby.”

Diana didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever. But she knew it was inevitable. “About what?”

“The gift’s come back to you, hasn’t it?” Her father focused on her, waiting for her reaction. “How long have you known?”

She put on her most innocent face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” Galen, his wiry body usually in constant motion, stood statue still. “Last night, me and your mother discussed what’s been goin’ on. We went over the last twenty years, pickin’ out times when we questioned how you could’ve known what you did. You sloughed us off, so we figured you hired another source or did your own research. You knew things beyond what we was diggin’ up.” Not taking his eyes off her, he said, “I’m askin’ again. How long have you known?”

Diana dreaded this day. How could she admit that the last twenty years had been a lie? But the time had come, and she wouldn’t lie now. “I never lost my gift, Galen. I tucked it away.” She drew a deep breath and held it for a long time before exhaling. “There, I’ve said it. I’ve confessed.”
And the relief feels almost as good as absolution.