Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella (10 page)

“Don’t talk to her, Andre. I know who she is. That’s Danielle Cafferty. She’s with that bull-sized P.I., Quinn. She’s here to try and make it look like we’re guilty in all this somehow. Get out, Cafferty. Get out now, before I call the police and issue a restraining order against you and Quinn for harassment.”

“I was really interested in your tours.” Danni lifted her hands. “But that’s okay. I’m gone.”

She left the office quickly, thinking that her ruse hadn’t gone well. On the street, she paused for a minute. A prickling sensation seemed to rip along her spine. She turned quickly and saw that the man who’d been arguing with Victoria was just across the street, by the old Jax Brewery.

He was studying her.

He realized that she saw him, then hurried off.

* * * *

Julian Henri met Quinn and the Pearl River detectives at his property.

A new wooden sign with the words
Legends Tours
rose high on a pair of wooden piles at the side of the property, visible from the swamp and from the old gravel road that led in from the main highway.

“This is it,” Julian said. “And why the hell anyone would want it, I’m not sure.”

He opened the front door and led them in.

There was a large living area filled with comfortable chairs and a sofa. Just beyond, a counter with an open area led into a functional kitchen where there was a large coffee pot and a bowl with offerings of various kinds of snack bars.

“We thought we had it just right,” Julian said. “A bus to bring people out here, and then they could mill around a bit while we gave them some history and allowed for anyone who wanted to head here by their own transportation to arrive. We tried to make it homey and comfortable. We wanted it to be like you were on an adventure with friends.”

“Nice,” Quinn murmured. “And back there?” he asked, pointing down a hall.

“Two bedrooms. If we had to, or needed to, for any reason, we could stay out here.” He shrugged. “I grew up in this house. My parents had the left room. I had the one on the right. The back door leads to the docks.”

“I’ll look at the rooms,” Beauchamp said.

“I’ll take the dock,” Deerfield said.

“I’ll just look at everything,” Quinn said.

“Please, anywhere, anything,” Julian told them.

While Beauchamp was in the one bedroom, Quinn headed to the next, which must have been Julian Henri’s parents’ room. The walls were covered with bookcases and hundreds of books. He looked them over. Classics, manuals, and a lot of contemporary novels. Staring at the shelves, he saw that the older Henri had kept order too. Hunting, fishing, and how-to books in one area. Dickens, Poe, Lovecraft, Thoreau, and more together in another. There was also a shelf for authors associated with Louisiana in one way or another. Eudora Welty, Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams, and more. But oddly, stuck between
In Cold Blood
and
A Streetcar Named Desire
was a book with no title and a worn leather cover.

He reached for the book and quickly realized that it was Julian Henri’s father’s journal.

He flipped through the pages, seeing all kinds of entries. Bass-fishing tournament, Julian’s grade school play. Mardi Gras notations. Years of a father’s plans for his wife and child and himself. He decided to concentrate on entries that had been written twenty years ago.

I told the bastard I wouldn’t sell. He kept insisting that I could have a better life elsewhere. I told him I’m a swamp man. He said it was no life for a child. I told him my child was brilliant and would do what he wanted, when he wanted. Bad taste left in my mouth.

Quinn flipped through a few more pages.

They found her today in the swamp. That beautiful, beautiful girl. I told them that they needed to check out Jacob Devereaux. He was the most insistent son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met. I was in the city, in her shop one day, and I caught him doing the same thing with her, insisting that her boyfriend was a louse and that she needed to be with him.

A day later another entry was also about the murder and Jacob Devereaux.

He was here again. Told me that if the murders continued, my place would be worthless. I should sell now. I threw him out. Then, later in the day, I wanted to take a stroll. Went to get the old cane with the beautiful silver wolf’s head grip. It was gone. I’ll be damned if the bastard didn’t steal it. I kept it right by the door.

* * * *

As Danni headed to her car, her phone rang.

She glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Natasha and answered. “You’ve got something?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I talked to Father Ryan about your conversation in the library. He told me that you were curious about that long ago realtor, Jacob Devereaux. An old-timer friend of mine came in the store and we started talking. He’s convinced there is a
rougarou
, by the way, but here’s the thing. He knew Devereaux. Said the man was slimy as motor oil. Had money, and thought that meant he could buy any woman he wanted. Said he slept with who he wanted, when he wanted. And get this, Danni, he was sure that Devereaux had a child out of wedlock. Didn’t know with who or what the kid’s name might have been, but he’s convinced that the child existed.”

Danni quickly filled in the gaps, then added, “Let’s say that Jacob Devereaux wasn’t just a slimy dick, he was also a murderer. How better to get rid of people than to kill them in the swamps as a
rougarou.
He dies, the murders stop. But his child would now be about twenty.”

“Or older,” Natasha said.

Danni let out her breath. “I know it’s nothing but theory. But it’s not a bad one. Devereaux is a human monster. A killer. He has a child out of wedlock, murders the women he can’t get, like beautiful Genevieve. He has a child who comes back—”

Her phone signaled that another call was coming through.

“Hang on,” she said to Natasha. “Larue is calling. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

She switched lines, still walking back to the car park by the river.

 “Danni, you’re psychic,” Larue told her. “I checked into our first victim. He did come here because of his girlfriend. She’s due to start a teaching position at the end of the month and hasn’t been seen in the last few days. They haven’t been reported missing because they were both moving. We’re working on finding out if our second victim
is
Mandy Matheson, Abel Denham’s girlfriend. I’ll call as soon as I have anything else. I’m working on getting the information to Quinn right now.”

“Thanks, Jake. Also, I saw a suspicious looking character at Crescent City Sites arguing with Victoria Miller, just before she threw me out. I’m not sure if it’s relevant to the case but wanted to let you know.” Something about the fight bothered her, though she knew better than to get stuck on any one thing when dealing with a case, so she changed course. “We’ve been looking for a connection between the murders twenty years ago and the murders now. There was a man back then named Jacob Devereaux. Natasha just told me that Devereaux very likely had a child out of wedlock. Count D’Oro was in love with the Good Witch of Honey Swamp. She died, along with others. Devereaux had a thing for Genevieve LaCoste, and she was the last to die on the next go-around.”

“We’ll look into it all, Danni,” Larue said. “I’ll get with Quinn and the Pearl River detectives.”

“Thanks.”

She ended the call and slipped her key into the lock of her car. Movement from behind caught her attention. She whirled to see the unkempt man from Crescent City Sites
.
The very one she’d just mentioned to Jake. But that thought was short lived.

Something hard slammed into the side of her head.

And the world went dark.

* * * *

Quinn brought the journal to Dirk Deerfield and showed him the entries.

“You remember this man Devereaux?” he asked.

“Of course, I remember him. We never had anything on him, though. At the time when Genevieve would have been killed, he had an alibi. A prostitute in the Quarter swore that he’d been with her. Weak alibi, but an alibi. I couldn’t charge the bastard, then he up and died. The murders stopped about a month before his death. Peter Henri, Julian’s dad, had a thing for Devereaux. Hated him long before any of the murders in the swamp started. Everyone here was accusing everyone else. Old Selena claimed that the
rougarou
did it. And when it came up again, how the hell do you blame a man who is dead for murdering people?”

“Someone has the cane,” Quinn said. “Someone sick enough to kill a lot of people. I want to check out what’s going on in the city.”

He put a call through to Larue.

As soon as he had the detective on the line, he told him what he had found.

“Danni just called me about Devereaux,” Larue told him. “How do I connect a realtor who has been dead for twenty years with a realtor who was moving down to New Orleans? None of this really makes any sense.” Quinn couldn’t help but have the same thoughts. “There was also a mystery man at the Crescent City Sites tour office, not happy with Victoria. Danni heard them arguing before she was thrown out. She’s also convinced that it somehow goes back to men who can’t get the women they want.”

In other words, they had a mess on their hands.

“Hey,” Beauchamp called out. “Get down here.”

“I’ll call you back,” Quinn said and ended the call.

He’d been in the house with Julian. Beauchamp and Deerfield were down at the docks. Julian looked at him with alarm. Quinn brushed past him and hurried to the docks. Beauchamp had walked into the high grasses at the shoreline.

“Third victim,” Beauchamp shouted. “Might be Byron Grayson.”

Quinn walked to the water. There was a body in the swamp. The head was bashed in, the throat was gone. He’d been there for a while as the crabs had been busy.

He suspected Beauchamp was right.

And Byron Grayson wasn’t under suspicion anymore.

“Get Doc Melloni out here,” Deerfield said.

* * * *

The first thing Danni became aware of when she came to was the blinding pain in her head. She was going to have a lump the size of Texas on her skull. The next thing she realized was that she was tied and gagged, lying in the trunk of a moving car. Quinn’s training came to her quickly. Kick out the back lights. She struggled and twisted and finally got her legs in position.

She kicked hard.

And was rewarded with the sound of broken glass.

She’d done it.

The car jerked to a stop.

The trunk opened.

 “Clever little witch, aren’t you. Doesn’t matter much. We’re here.”

He reached into the car and with a startling strength, lifted her out.

She saw nothing but trees and bushes, but smelled the air.

They were at a swamp.

Honey Swamp, she imagined.

She struggled like crazy against the man carrying her. They were leaving the dirt road, moving closer to the water.

“Stop it,” he said. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Really?

He had a strange way of showing it.

“You are the witch,” he said. “The Good Witch of Honey Swamp. They said that you were dangerous. I didn’t understand until I saw you. But it’s you. All good and noble, tempting men as if you were a naked siren on the high seas. Oh, no, I don’t want to hurt you. The
rougarou
has a very special plan for you.”

The
rougarou?

He carried her to an old, dilapidated shack close to the water, hidden in a thicket of trees. He shoved open the door with a foot. There was a cot on the floor and he eased her down to it.

“The
rougarou
is coming,” he told her.

And he left, closing the door behind him.

Then she saw it.

Leaning against one wall.

A cane.

With a silver wolf’s head for the grip.

Chapter 6

Quinn called Larue back as Doc Melloni supervised the initial assessment of the body and had it fished from the water.

“The poor bastard,” Larue said over the phone. “I guess I’ll get on out there. I’ve got people working on all the angles we discussed. Hey, by the way, I’ve been trying to get Danni back on the phone. Do you know where she is?”

Quinn frowned. “When did you last speak with her?”

“About an hour ago. Maybe a little more.”

“I’m hanging up and going to try to reach her.”

He did and Danni didn’t answer. He tried the shop, then Natasha and Father Ryan. Naturally, he sent them all into a panic. Something he too was beginning to feel.

He thought back to the events of the day, searching for any red flags, and called Larue. “Get to Crescent City Sites.” It was probably nothing, but it was all they had. “Find out who that mystery man was. Drag Victoria in for questioning if you have to, but get some answers.” Fear sank in his stomach. “I can’t find Danni.”

“I’m on it,” Larue told him.

Quinn jumped down to the docks. Fear gripped him like a vise.

Deerfield came over to him.

“I can’t find Danni Cafferty,” he told the cop. “And I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“You don’t have to stay here. Get back to the city.”

Quinn stood. “No. If he’s got her, he’s going to bring her out here, somewhere.”

“Maybe you’re panicking unnecessarily.”

He shook his head. “Danni wouldn’t be unreachable if she were all right.” She carried her phone at all times. “He’s got her and she’s out here. And I’m going to find her.”

“This swamp is enormous. We’ll have to call out every officer we have.”

Quinn looked at the police cruiser. “I need your boat.”

“You got it. What are you going to do? I’ll go with you.”

“You stay here. I’ll take the boat.”

“I’ll get Beauchamp out searching, too.”

“There’s one person I have to talk to, and I will get answers from her,” Quinn said.

He left Deerfield and the commotion with the body and headed out. Selena Duarte must have heard the boat returning. She stuck her head out and then disappeared, slamming the door.