LeOmi's Solitude (3 page)

“Of course, New Orleans is an old place
anyway—fully ensconced in tradition and any number of other types
of ceremony.” The other person made no sound.

“Why do you think she was killed
here...?”

Now they both seemed to have stopped. “Why do
you ask me this Sergeant? I told you that she had returned here to
New Orleans on her own. I had nothing to do with it.”

“I was told that she had been researching
something—having to do with...now how did she put it,” LeOmi could
hear note pad pages turning as he searched for the information that
he was looking for. “Sumerian Mythology, do you know anything about
that?”

“Sergeant, I’m sure that I have no idea as to
what that is in referenced to.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Then I suppose that you were
also unaware that she had just returned from overseas. Calcutta to
be exact—I suppose that you know nothing about that either?” As the
Sergeant spoke his voice became louder and louder until it seemed
to boom.

LeOmi heard the other man’s calm, well
educated but impatient voice, “I have told you Sergeant, I don’t
know anything about any of that. She had been gone for two weeks
when I got the call from your department.”

What kind of accent is that?

LeOmi could hear that they were walking
toward her.

“Now if you are quite finished badgering me
with your questions, I will be going.” He didn’t see LeOmi; he was
so intent on getting out of the building. Sergeant Polaris stopped
upon entering the room that LeOmi was in but he called after the
man, “If you think of anything relevant let me know as soon as
possible.”

Again, no words from the other man. He just
threw-up his right hand, not even bothering to turn around hurrying
to get out as if he had to get out of there or be eaten by a...what
did he say? … A badger.

“Are you just going to let him walk out? He
looks guilty to me.”

Sergeant Polaris turned to face LeOmi. “Well,
looky who’s here. It’s nice to know that you can speak. When I was
at your grandmother’s house you simply stood there in the corner
and said nothing.”

“I like corners.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

She stood against the wall but as he turned
to look at her she pushed off from the wall, walked over and stood
in the curve of the doorway. She watched as the other man easily
ducked under the crime scene tape, got into his red sports car and
drove away, almost clipping the back of the Sergeant’s car.

Sergeant Polaris startled her when he spoke,
he had come up just behind her and watched as the car drove to the
corner, turned, and quickly sped out of sight.

“Your name is LeOmi isn’t it?

The car left a cloud of dust silently
floating in the air about two feet off the ground before it
settled. “You know that it is.”

“Do you know who that man is that just
left?”

“Of course I recognize him. That is the man
that my mother went off with two years ago.”

Anger seemed to boil up into Sergeant
Polaris’ face. Red blotches and deep creases appeared on his
forehead as if it took all his concentration not to throw LeOmi out
of the building and probably a good distance down the street.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know that
they put crime scene tape up for a reason?”

“Of course I know, but I had to see for
myself.”

LeOmi walked over and stood near where the
carpet had been cut away. Sergeant Polaris followed. He reached for
her, to try and keep her from seeing the spot, then he put his hand
down when he realized that this was something that she was going to
do no matter what he did.

“I know that this is difficult for you but I
need to know what you know. I am one of the good guys here—I’m here
to help.”

Wanting to put more distance between herself
and the Sergeant, LeOmi walked over to the bar, close to the wall.
The bar seemed to have been made out of a very large plank of old
oak, just what you would see in the old TV westerns. “Are there any
good guys? Everybody seems to have their own agenda—even you
Sergeant.”

“Whoa, so soon we have hate and mistrust
between us and I haven’t known you for very long.”

He gave her a quick grin then he looked her
in the face, eye to eye and said, “I shouldn’t say, but I think
that he had something to do with your mother’s death.”

Then he turned and walked towards the stain
on the floor.

“I don’t usually confide such things,
especially to a child of the victim, —but I can see that the normal
way to handle things is not going to work with someone like
you.”

Turning, he walked towards her and at that
point she could tell that he was very bow legged.

“Sergeant, you can save the ‘I want to be
your friend’ speech. We both are interested in one thing, and that
is to get the person who killed my mother. You are all I have. I
know that my father can’t or won’t do anything and my Grand-Mère
gave up on her a long time ago—so it seems that it is just you and
me.” She turned and this time it was her turn to look him in the
eye. “You said that you think he had something to do with her
death, but do you actually suspect that man of killing my
mother?”

They stood about six feet apart. He looked at
her and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet as if he was
measuring her up.

“Right down to business I see. Are there no
pleasantries in this town—or parish or whatever they call it? ‘The
City that Care Forgot.’ Give me a break; Care didn’t forget it, New
Orleans simply chose to ignore Care. It’s easier to say I don’t
care.”

He turned away, as if to drive home his point
by listing to the chatter on his police radio.

He then retrieved from his pocket a large
cigar and trimmed the end with his pocketknife. He carefully
collected all his trimmings and dropped them into his cigar case.
LeOmi watched in fascination.

“Another nail in my coffin, don’t you know.”
He pulled a large old-fashioned lighter out of his pants pocket,
flipped it open and worked the little flint wheel with care,
putting the flame to the end of the cigar.

As he was puffing he said, “I got this
lighter at an auction when I lived back east. See this crest with
the symbols of a scroll and a quill, it has been added by a
previous owner. Do you recognize it?”

He held out the lighter so that she could see
it.

“No Sergeant I don’t think that I recognize
that crest.” By this time, rings of smoke encircled Sergeant
Polaris and the smell of the cigar was overpowering. Her eyes were
watering.

“I heard you say that my mother had been to
Calcutta. Did you mean Calcutta, in India?”

“Yep. She acquired a rare book, a journal
actually, from the
National Library of India
. She had to pay
an awful lot for it. Do you have any idea where she would have
gotten that kind of money?

“No!”
Not unless Grand-Mère gave it to
her—unlikely
.

Still holding the lighter in his hand
Sergeant Polaris continued, “The crest was the thing that I was
interested in on this lighter. That is something that you don’t see
very often. Your grandmother recognized it though. I showed it to
her and your father when they came down to the station— you know
when I mean… anyway—she didn’t say that she recognized it but I
just knew that she did.”

His thumb rubbed over the signet, “But what
seemed even more surprising to me…was that she was surprised to see
me with it.”

LeOmi shrugged and reached out to take the
lighter from the Sergeant. The lighter appeared to be made of gold.
The crest was probably gold also, a masterpiece, so intricate.

“So what does this crest have to do with my
mother or my grandmother?”

“I hope this has nothing to do with you and
your family or your mother’s disappearance. The people that carry
this crest are of a sect called...the Neo-Phylum.”

“And?”

“I have another case that I have been working
for a while that involves the people that are part of the
Neo-Phylum. That is what brought me here to New Orleans. Now the
interesting thing is that this man who just left is wearing a ring
that has this crest.” He pointed to the crest on the lighter, on
the side of that ring.

“I tend to notice things like that.”

“Coincidence Sergeant. A lot of people wear
signet rings.”

“Coincidence? No, not likely. Not this crest.
I have been able to trace them to this place.”

She handed him the lighter.

“Now, do you know something that I don’t
know?”

“I doubt it. As far as I know, I am the only
one who saw him when my mother left and that was a long time
ago.”

“But you’re sure that was the man?”

“Yes –that’s him. What is he—Greek or
something?”

“A Turkish prince of some type—none the less.
He is also some kind of financial wizard, absurdly rich.”

“I’m not surprised. Does he have a name?”

“Julian Compton.”

“And you think he is a … Neo-Phylum?”

“It means ‘new order’. It is Latin. I was
told that it seems to have originated back in the days of
Hammurabi. He was a Babylonian.”

“I know who Hammurabi was, an eighteenth
century BC Babylonian king who developed the oldest existing code
of laws—supposedly by using the earliest form of written Greek,
cuneiform.”

“Well, what-do-ya-know. You’re a regular
encyclopedia aren’t ya?”

She gave him a grin and twist of the head
that was usually referred to as a smirk.

“Anyway these Neo-Phylum are idol worshipers,
as far as I can tell, that don’t seem to hold to any code of
law—cuneiform or no.”

“So what are you saying about this man and
what do these Neo-Phylums have to do with my mother?”

With a shrug he said, “Is that all you have
is questions for me—I was hoping that you would have some
answers—any answers.”

LeOmi turned to leave.

“Hold on there. Sorry—I have been working on
this for a long time—I guess that I can be…”

She paused by the door. “I have to think
about all of this.” She looked over her shoulder at the hole in the
carpet.

“Is Compton staying here in the city?”

“Stay away from him; he is not to be trusted
by any means. He seems very confident and wise—in his own eyes.
That always means that they are up to no good. Do you understand
what I am saying to you?”

LeOmi walked out the door and turned to
follow the outer wall. By the time the Sergeant had made it to the
door to see how she had gotten there—there was no sign of her,
almost like she had disappeared.

Sergeant Polaris took another deep draw on
his cigar, he blew out the smoke and watched it disappear the same
way LeOmi had just done.

Shaking his head, he stepped out of the
building and began to pull the door to. Smoke was still encircling
him from the cigar clinched between his teeth but, he saw a
shadow—a figure of something—in the corner of the saloon main room.
Yet when he quickly pushed the door open again there was nothing
there.

Once again, he stepped out and pulled the
heavy door until he heard the lock catch into place.

He said, “Why isn’t anything easy?”

* * *

There were days that Bekka wished that she
had a real job. This was one of them. She sat underneath the
ancient Olive Tree on an old gnarled root that stuck up out of the
ground. This was the finest—most serene place that she had ever
found. —She needed it after what she had experienced today. Her
note pad was out and she was jotting things down, her head shaking
back and forth which seemed to be the case whenever she made
entries under the name: LeOmi Jones, candidate for enrollment.

That Detective, Sergeant Polaris almost saw
her today.

There were strict guidelines to be followed
especially with LeOmi, but Bekka couldn’t help bending the rules
and stretching them as far as was possible. The Council was very
specific—but Bekka knew that if LeOmi was just given a chance that
she could prove herself.
Still I can’t be sure of LeOmi. What
side would she choose?
But there were those who felt there was
little if any hope for LeOmi.

There are some people that you just know
are going to make it—no matter what it takes.
She had learned
this from Tim, her FTC: Field Training Counselor. He hadn’t
interfered at all since she was cut loose and promoted to a true
Counselor—not Counselor in Training. If he were here now he would
be lecturing
“…this process is very important and all the
guidelines are there for a reason,”
—and on and on…but if that
were true—then why would they call them guidelines?
I can make
it work—I just hope that no one will mind that I helped out-- just
a little.

Chapter 3

Your Temper Can be an Asset, If You
Know How to Use It

The ritual of dinner always made LeOmi
nauseous. Why Grand-Mère felt that a lady should dress for dinner
was beyond what LeOmi could understand? She was given an allowance
from Grand-Mère—through Hannah of course, to insure that she had
proper clothing. Grand-Mère would not be the object of people’s
gossiping, unless she wanted to be.

Her mother had always done the same thing,
dressing for dinner. As father’s days were supposed to end at five
p.m. and he was supposed to come home at that time, then we would
all go into our tiny dining area and eat our dinner on fine wedding
china. It was supposed to bring the family together but her father
hardly ever made it home on time—if for dinner at all. LeOmi’s
brother and sister were away at school all the time so generally it
was just her and her mother.

Yvonne, her mother, was always angry at
someone: her husband, her children or herself. Dinner was
absolutely no fun at all.