Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (27 page)

When I first moved over from England, I had,
on many occasions, laughed at someone referring to voodoo. My
limited experience of it had made me ignorant. As far as I had been
concerned, it was black magic, voodoo queens and things that one
would associate with the occult. I had since learned that voodoo,
in its true form, was actually a religion that had been brought
over with the slave trade a couple of hundred years ago.

There were many things that rang true – the
spirits, the gris-gris, even the rituals... but unlike the way
Hollywood had commercialized the beliefs, the rituals remained
behind closed doors so as to show respect to the spirits.

Although, I had never converted my beliefs
(hence, my apparent lack of them), I had come to respect voodoo as
a religion, especially in New Orleans.

I had, however, also learned a bit of the
history. It was impossible not to considering there is a grave in
the St. Louis Cemetery, which, if you believe the lore, is the
second most visited tomb in America. The tomb is final resting
place of one of the most famous Voodoo Queens in history. A woman
who died in 1881. A woman called Marie Laveau.

There was no way they were the same person,
because that was not only completely insane, but completely
impossible. But on the off chance the impossible had happened and
she had somehow lived to be over two hundred years old, there was
no way I was going to incur the wrath of a very powerful Voodoo
Queen. I mean, I was still trying not to piss off an archangel.

“
I was wondering, Mama,” I continued, even
though the word
mama
sounds
awkward with my accent. “What color was Preston’s aura?”

“I was wonderin’ when you be askin’ dat,” she
said, nodding her head. “Royal blue.”

The hope I hadn’t realized had been building,
fell, leaving me disappointed. “Oh,” I muttered.

“But he be havin’ somethin’ rare too, child.
Preston be havin’ bright white flashes, like lightnin’.”

I glanced down at my arm, searching out the
aura which remained invisible to me. “You mean like mine?” I asked
carefully.

Mama Laveau let out a low chuckle. “Like
yours used to be,” she told me as she rested her head back against
the chair.

“What does that mean?” I demanded.

“Angel?” Joshua called.

Seeing I wasn’t going to get any more from
Mama Laveau, I stood and rejoined Joshua and Mrs. Johnston. The
latter was looking a little better than she had when we had
arrived, and even gave me a small smile as I joined them.

“What stories has she been telling you?” she
asked me, glancing back at the woman behind me.

“She was telling me about my aura,” I
responded, truthfully.

Mrs. Johnston barked out a laugh. “Is she
still trying that one? She’s been completely blind for the last
thirty years.”

“Blind?” I repeated, only just managing to
refrain from flapping my mouth open like a fish.

“Blind,” Mrs. Johnston repeated. “She lost
her sight years before Preston was born. She never even got to see
her great grandson,” she told us, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry,”
she apologized to Joshua. “But if there’s nothing else, I need to
finish these dishes.”

“Of course,” Joshua nodded. “Thank you for
your time.”

I gave Mama Laveau’s sleeping form one last
suspicious stare, before smiling nervously at Mrs. Johnston.

Hidden Memories

“You’ve gone quiet,” Joshua said as we drove
out of the neighborhood.

“Hi Pot,” I muttered, watching the washed out
houses race by.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joshua
asked.

I glanced back at him, watching him tap at
his steering wheel. “You haven’t said much since we left the
Johnston’s, either,” I pointed out. “What did you learn?”

Joshua paused in his tapping and sighed.
“Preston was a good guy, by all accounts. Kept out of trouble and
wanted to make his mother proud. He went out to a bar in the
Quarter and never came back, yet he was found three blocks from his
home in an abandoned car.”

“And what did you learn that might help
figure out what happened to the missing information in the files?”
I pressed.

“Not much,” Joshua admitted, shaking his
head. “The only name Mrs. Johnston remembers was the lead
detective.”

“So where do we go from there?” I asked.

“The next victim,” Joshua told me,
firmly.

I could see he was still determined to prove
that no one in his precinct had anything to do with the missing
information. “Okay,” I agreed. “Where does that take us?”

“Your neck of the woods,” he informed me.

* * *

My neck of the woods was Lakeview. We were
only a couple of streets west from my aunt’s. Coleen Richmond was
only a couple of years younger than me and there was a good chance
we had gone to the same school, but I didn’t know her. I did
recognize her house, I realized, as we pulled up outside it on the
street.

She lived just along the road from the bank
my aunt used, and I could remember sitting in her Jeep, driving
past the house and seeing the large pool in the back yard. It was a
nicer area of Lakeview, with larger houses and nicer cars. The lawn
was immaculate with the sprinklers whirling around to keep the
grass a bright green.

I followed Joshua up the few steps to the
door. It didn’t take long for a tall, good looking man to answer
the door. Although he was in a considerably higher earning bracket
than Mrs. Johnston was, he shared the same haggard expression, his
eyes full of just as much sadness.

“You caught him?” he asked, recognizing
Joshua for what he was, as soon as the door opened.

“We’re investigating a new lead, Mr.
Richmond,” Joshua corrected him. “May we come in?”

Mr. Richmond nodded and stepped back to let
us pass. Closing the door behind us, he then led us into an
enormous living room with mahogany floors and green leather couches
facing an oversized fireplace.

The mirror hanging over the fireplace was as
wide as the chimney breast was, but the walls beside it were
covered in pictures of a typical 2.5 family. From individual
portraits and family shots ranging from the professional, to
snapshots and school pictures, I spotted Coleen’s ever-smiling
pictures amongst the others, her grin frozen in time.

“Four months and you’ve only just got a
lead?” Mr. Richmond asked us, his arms folded as he glared at us
from his spot next to the fireplace.

Joshua nodded. “I’m in a different precinct –
fresh eyes,” he told him. “There could be a connection between your
daughter’s murder and several others that have occurred
recently.”

“A serial killer?” a new voice said.

Joshua and I both turned, spotting one of the
faces from the pictures – Coleen’s brother. “You’ve never mentioned
anything about a serial killer before,” Mr. Richmond accused,
ignoring his son. “There’s been nothing in the papers.”

Joshua shook his head. “There’s been nothing
to link any of the deaths until now, and we’re still checking to
see if that’s the case. That’s why we are here. We wanted to talk
to you and your family to go over your statements and see if there
was anything missed, anything that could have seemed unimportant at
the time.”

“And you don’t think we would have called you
if any of us had remembered anything?” Mr. Richmond demanded.

“Dad, they’re here to help,” the son said,
stepping into the room. “They haven’t given up either.” He turned
back to us and gave us a sad smile. “I’m Dale.”

“Dale, your sister was found off Chestnut
Street in the Garden District. Do you have any idea why she would
have been there?” Joshua asked him, pulling his notebook out.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Mr. Richmond snapped.
“If he did, he would have told you people months ago. She was
supposed to be at a Bible study group three blocks from here.”

“Supposed to be?” I asked.

“As we established when you investigated four
months ago, she never made it to the group. She must have been
abducted along the way,” he told me, coldly.

I frowned, thinking back to the crime scene
photograph I had seen of her. There was no way someone in a top
that low was going to Bible study. “She would walk it?” I asked,
suddenly noticing that Dale wouldn’t look at his father.

“Of course she would walk it. She doesn’t
have a car.”

I gave the room my best fake coughing fit and
then turned to Dale. “I’m sorry, I don’t suppose you could get me a
glass of water?” As soon as Dale nodded, I started to follow him
out of the room, flashing Joshua a quick smile which I hoped he
would register as ‘I would be alright’.

Without giving Mr. Richmond the opportunity
to begin questioning where I was going, Joshua started to ask him
more questions, leaving me free to follow Dale into an enormous
kitchen.

“He can be a little overbearing,” I muttered,
taking the glass of water from Dale as he offered it to me.

Dale nodded. “Megan isn’t allowed to leave
the house anymore, unless either my father or I are with her.”

I shrugged, leaning back against the island
unit. “It’s understandable. Coleen was taken within a few blocks
from home.”

“Yeah,” Dale muttered, refusing to meet my
eye.

I sighed and set the glass down beside me.
“Alright, ‘fess up. Where was she really, when she
disappeared?”

“Bible study,” Dale responded, quickly.

“Yes, and this is my natural hair color,” I
said, rolling my eyes.

“Bourbon Street,” Dale admitted, looking
thoroughly guilty.

“Your father would never have let her go, so
she sneaked out, using the Bible study group as a cover, knowing he
would never question it?” I asked, already knowing the answer
before he nodded at me.

“I knew it wasn’t right,” he told me. “But
she was tired of never celebrating her friend’s birthdays with
them, and I knew she would be sensible and not drink. I just didn’t
think...” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

“It’s not your fault,” I told him,
firmly.

Dale shook his head. “I could have stopped
her. I
should
have
stopped her. Bourbon Street is full of evil sinners.”

“Not everybody who goes out down Bourbon
Street does so with the intention of preying on innocent girls and
killing them, Dale. I’m not saying they’re saints by any stretch of
the imagination, but they’re not all evil. If you truly thought
that, you would have stopped her.” Seeing that what I was saying
really wasn’t working, I changed tactics. “I see why you never said
anything, but why didn’t her friends?”

Dale shrugged. “I don’t think they knew
she was coming. We
all
thought she
was going to Bible study. She wanted to surprise them.”

“Angel?” Joshua called from the doorway, Mr.
Richmond stood behind him, fuming. “It’s time to go.”

I nodded and followed him from the house,
wincing as the door slammed behind us. “What the hell did you say
to him?” I asked as we slipped into the car.

“I may have asked if there was a chance that
Coleen had been somewhere in the Quarter. He flipped and informed
me that his daughter was a good girl and would never have
associated with anyone who frequented Bourbon Street and that if I
was going to come at him with any more slanderous accusations, he
would be putting in an official complaint to my lieutenant.”

I burst out laughing and then, trying to
stop, ended up snorting in a very unladylike manner.

“Laugh it up,” he grumbled, swinging the car
around.

“I’m not laughing at you - I’m laughing at
Mr. Richmond. He has no clue about his daughter,” I told him. “She
wasn’t going to Bible study the night she was killed. She was
partying it up on Bourbon Street. Although, to be fair, I don’t
think she was out to get drunk.”

“How on Earth did you find that out?” Joshua
demanded, staring at me in surprise.

“Oh, are you jealous that I’m a better
detective than you?” I couldn’t help but ask him, talking to him
like I was cooing a baby.

In response, Joshua rolled his eyes at me.
“Now who’s the one who needs to act their age?”

I laughed. “I just asked the brother. I think
that he hasn’t told anyone else and the guilt was eating him up.
That, and I’m not as intimidating as you.”

The smirk was back before I could blink. “You
think I’m intimidating?”

I leaned over and slapped at his arm. “Quit
it.”

“
Ow,” he moaned, glaring at me. “Will you
quit doing
that
?”

“What next?” I asked him, ignoring his
complaints. If he was going to continue doing that flirty smirk
thing, then I had no option but to hit him.

“You tell me,” he shrugged. “You seem to be
doing well on the information gathering.”

I shook my head. “Nope, I’m not the
detective. I don’t have a clue.”

There was a moment’s pause as we stopped
at a four-way stop sign and waited for the other traffic to move
before we could, but then he spoke. “What do
you
remember?”

“Not much,” I shrugged. “There were one too
many hand grenades involved.”

He tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel,
before crossing the traffic to pull into an empty school parking
lot. “What are we doing?” I asked him, suspiciously as he slipped
the car into park.

Wordlessly, he turned in his seat, unclipping
his belt and then did the same to mine. I frowned, turning to watch
the clip automatically wind itself in. “Josh-” I turned back and
stopped suddenly. His face was inches from mine as he leaned across
my seat. “What are you doing?” I whispered, my throat suddenly
dry.