“ Two fuckin' dumb cops who can't find the most vicious freakin' killer this city's ever known, and why? Because you can't see past your slimy noses. Why do you think they called in a psychic? They want to manipulate this whole case.”
“ Who are they?'' pressed Alex, snatching the cigarette from her mouth and tossing it into the sink.
“ Why do you think the fucking governor and the mayor and all those muckety-mucks are interested in the case? For tourism's sake? For God's sake, open your eyes. The killer is one of their own, and-''
“ What the hell're you talking about, snatch?” shouted Ben, approaching her like a stampeding rhino until Alex held up a hand to him.
“ I'm talking about the country-club set. I'm talking about people with enough money and power to bury all three of us in this room tonight, if they wanted.”
“ You're talking about some sort of cover-up surrounding Surette?” asked Alex, wondering again about the complete lack of paper in Surette's apartment on the night they had searched it.
Jodi-alias-Susie sniffed back a tear of concern. “They're covering it up by paying off people like Davey to get the hell out of town.”
“ Craziest wad of crap I ever heard,” said deYampert, dismissing the entire notion. “Come on, Alex. Let's see about reality. Let's go, Miss Susie.” She only frowned at the big cop, but her eyes went pleadingly to Sincebaugh. “Look, what reason do I have to lie? I'm just telling you what little I know. Davey wouldn't say much, but he was paid plenty to leave town.”
“ Who paid him to leave? Who?”
“ He wouldn't tell me.”
Alex nodded and forced a fifty into her hand.
She pushed the cash back at him. “My life's worth more to me than fifty bucks, pal.”
“ All right, sure.” Alex retrieved the money. “We'll be in touch.”
“ Not if I can help it.”
Alex then followed his partner down to the waiting unmarked squad car. Ben got on the radio, struggling with a pack of gum at the same time.
“ Put out a warrant on Gilreath,” Alex said.
“ We tried that once before, remember?”
“ This time extend it to Palladium. Have the cops up there pick him up for us.”
“ //he's there.”
“ You have to be so skeptical all the time?”
“ Hey, skeptical's part of what we do, or have you forgotten that, Alex?”
“ Some thing eating you, Big?”
“ Shit, Alex, think about it. You're taking advice from a lesbian prostitute on how to conduct an investigation? When before you refused any help whatsoever from Dr. Desinor? Give me a break, Sincy.”
“ So who are you calling?”
“ I'm making a phone call home to Fiona and the kids. I know, I know, the brass don't want us patching through and tying up the lines, but do you see a working pay phone within a mile of here?”
“ That's okay, Ben.”
“ Damn right it's okay. It's okay to check in to home once in a while. Maybe if you had a home… oh, for Chrissake, Alex, we're chasing phantoms here.”
“ Hey, we've chased phantoms before. New Orleans is full of phantoms. Home of Anne Rice and the Vampire Lestat, remember? So what's got you so steamed and on edge?” Alex could feel there was a problem.
“ Ahh, nothing that can't be fixed with another one of those home equity loans. Sorry, partner. I'll make that bulletin call.”
“ Never mind. Drive! I'll call in the warrant.”
“ Drive where?”
“ Let's have another look-see at Surette's old place.”
“ Are you kidding? The tape came down on that freakin' place a year ago; no idea who's living there now; you go in there poking around and the landlord loses a tenant when the new people decide the friggin' place is haunted or something; then we get another citizen's complaint, and Landry'Il have our-”
“ Hey, it's not like Surette met his violent end there. He's not likely to be there in spirit.”
“ Then what in hell do you expect to find there after all this time?”
“ I'm not sure. I just want to nose around.”
“ But Alex, we did that when the body was still warm, remember? And we found nothing useful. Like you said, not so much as a photograph, not even of himself in drag.”
“ And didn't that strike you as strange?”
“ Strange? What's strange among all these weirdos, Alex? Give it a break… strange… where the hell've you been?”
“ Dammit, it was like someone had gotten there ahead of us and cleaned the place out. No paper, no bills, no laundry lists, no goddamned letters, nothing.”
“ Even if that was true, going back now… I mean it's not like we overlooked anything, partner.”
“ But we did. We overlooked the emptiness of the damned place.”
“ Did you look around Sue Socks' place, Alex? Listen to yourself. These people got no family albums, pal.”
Alex turned back to that moment in time when Surette's apartment would have been vulnerable to someone scavenging it. He'd remained a long time with the body out in the woods because Frank Wardlaw was dragging his butt. By the time Wardlaw had officially I.D.'d the body and it had gotten out over the wires, Ben had gone to Surette's place ahead of Alex, and when Alex arrived, Ben had told him how pathetically empty the place was, showing him the barren fridge and vacant bookshelves. The only thing remaining of Surette was his elaborate wardrobe, a collection of pumps and other shoes, handbags and the like-and except for cosmetics, even these were empty.
Alex wanted to return to the Surette apartment tonight, perhaps foolishly, just to snoop around for anything that might have fallen through the cracks, particularly anything in the realm of paper. Paper couldn't be gotten with a search warrant, however; there was no probable cause to serve the new tenant or tenants with one. Still, he couldn't convince Ben that it was necessary that they go back to Surette's place tonight, and Ben won the argument.
Later, near midnight, sleep was finally shutting down the feverish activity of puzzle pieces which only gave the illusion of fitting into place, and Alex's body screamed for an end to the internal war. He gave in, and was sleeping deeply when he was rudely startled awake by the ringing, insistent telephone, which he knocked to the floor. Picking up the receiver, he heard an excited female voice.
“ Alex, Alex… it's me… it'„s me, Kim, Kim Desinor.”
“ Oh, yeah, Doctor… what the hell time is it?” He yawned unceremoniously. “What can I do you for?”
“ I need your help.”
“ You need my help?” Alex was sounding flip, but he was mostly curious. Why in God's name was she telephoning him at this hour? Insomnia, inability to sleep knowing someone on the NOPD hadn't fallen for her psychic scam maybe?
“ It's… well, it's… Dr. Coran.” The hesitancy in her voice made Alex sit up in bed.
“ Exactly what's the problem, Dr. Desinor?”
“ She's… Jessica's gone from her hotel room.”
“ Well, she is a big girl, and I'm sure Meade's got someone watching her night and day, so…”
“ You don't understand. She's gone out to one of the cemeteries tonight, and… and…”
“ What, another exhumation?”
“ No, no… nothing of the sort.”
He was getting impatient now. “What then?”
“ I promised her I would tell no one, but I'm terribly worried about her safety, and-”
“ Tell no one what?” He yawned again.
“ That she's meeting with that madman Matisak at the cemetery, to… to have it out with him… alone… do you understand, Alex?”
He went silent, piecing all of it together. The pilot's headless body, the gruesome head dangling at Kim Desinor's hotel room door, the whole, bloody incident hushed up, kept off the police band, the press kept out of it entirely. The murdered pilot turning out to be FBI, a bodyguard assigned to Dr. Coran in the event she fell into peril. Lot of good that had done. He also recalled the strange, thin, tubular little shard of glass which Dr. Coran had plucked from Ed Sand's cheek. Coran had said that she'd have the lab test it for poisonous substances, believing that Sand had been too easily and quickly overpowered for his size and build.