By Sally Law
A special greeting from Sally~
Hello everyone! Welcome to my fourth novella in the "Blind Girl Mysteries" series. I am blind in real life, and I have specifically formatted this book with shorter paragraphs for easier reading. Long paragraphs are very taxing on those of us with vision impairment or aging eyes. I hope you enjoy it as much as the others.
{Pilot- Chapter One}
Louisiana, April 1990~
Imagine waking up one day, realizing you had lost not only your memory, but your world--yourself. She wasn't sure where she was now, exactly--just driven to get away from New Orleans.
All she had was a blond acoustic guitar, a canteen of warm spigot water, a ring, a little cash, and the clothes on her back.
Crooked oaks, cotton grass, and swamp lined her path for miles--shades of gray and green in a neutral landscape. The only relief was where the road seemed to touch the infinite blue sky. Warm winds curled around her petite frame like an imaginary hand.
It had been a full day since she'd had anything to eat, as she recalled an obliging blueberry bush in the wild. The promise of a hot meal lay ahead.
River Ridge, LA ~ 2 Miles
The angle of the sun motivated her to pick up the pace. It wouldn't be long before the marshes came alive with eyes that glowed.
An hour later, a whitewashed chapel at the road's end greeted her, and a hand-drawn sign caught her eye.
Church organist wanted. Apply within.
Ashamed of her unkempt appearance, she turned back from the hallowed doors. Across the street was a somewhat busy YMCA, with people--such as herself--milling about.
That's it! I'll check in there. Oh, a hot shower would be heavenly! Maybe they have clothing donations. I could use a clean outfit. Her eyes traveled to the tattered hem of her jeans and holed sneakers. And... some decent shoes!
Rummaging through her coat pockets, she pulled out a ball of one dollar bills.
$26.00 to my name! Ha! If only I knew my name.
The plan became more desperate by the minute. It would be dark soon, and everything would be closed. It's either the "Y" or another night in the swamps of Louisiana....
The smell of smoky barbecue wafted through the air, leading her to a house no bigger than a hut. She followed her nose inside the warped screen door. BB King played on a small radio strung across the scarred wooden counter.
But the most remarkable sight was the cook, his tattooed arms flying as fast as they could go, basting chicken quarters over an open pit. He saw her lick her lips, and passed a pick plate with a nod. "Go on. You know you want some," he insisted.
It was all she could do not to devour the food, plate and all.
The cook noticed her hesitation. "You can use my sink to wash up," he said, pointing. "Careful... the water is piping hot."
After a good scrub, she returned to the bar and partook of the generous sampling.
A body could get used to this tangy sauce, she thought, savoring every bite.
"How much for a meal?"
"A lunch is $1.99; Dinner is $2.99."
"Sold. I'll have the lunch with an ice water, please."
"Coming right up!"
The kind man heaped her plate as high as it would go without tipping: two chicken legs, baked beans, slaw, cheese grits, and a corn cake.
"You're skin and bones, Miss. Where are ya headed with that guitar?"
"I'm weighing my options. I will probably be staying at the YMCA tonight," she said, dousing the golden cake with honey.
"That's for men only. But there's a hostel run by the town's parson. Ya have to obey the hostel commandments, or you'll be turned out. No drinking, drugs, or illicit sex on the premises. It's all about clean living at the church lodge.
"Sounds good. I've fallen into ...." Her deep brown eyes turned downcast. "I might stay here for awhile. Who knows?"
"Did I mention the hostel's free?"
"Free?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'd want to contribute something, or help out however I could."
"Well, if you stay at the hostel, you'll get your wish. The Victorian home was the first thing built in River River. It's quaint, and always in need of repairs. Well... you go on and enjoy your supper while you ponder that, young lady. There's a bathroom 'round the back. It ain't fancy, but it's clean. When you're finished eating, help yourself to a shower. The key is hanging from the nail."
"Thank you! What is your name?"
"Albert Lee Reynolds. Most folks just call me Al."
"Thank you, Al. How about I return tomorrow and fix your screen door? It won't take but a few minutes."
"That's mighty nice of you, princess. Come by early, and I'll have breakfast waiting."
Princess.... Why does that sound familiar?
**********
Pastor Lyle Henry was just about to flip a chair around and sit backwards when the exotic beauty walked through the hostel door. Suddenly, he felt undone, and ridiculously inept.
All he saw was her--standing in a room full of souls desiring a place for the night. As Providence would have it, there was room for one more at the Victorian-style inn. The clergyman extended his hand.
"Welcome! You're just in time. I'm Lyle... come on in."
He stumbled helping with her guitar. "And, you are...?"
"...Needing a room for the night, possibly longer. Al sent me."
"Wonderful. Al is the head deacon at the church, so that doesn't surprise me."
"His barbecue is downright sinful," she remarked. "I'm afraid I ate too much."
"Nonsense! He's like the proverbial mother. He's always trying to fatten everyone," he said, patting his extras.
Looking her in the eyes, he tried again. "You never told me your name."
Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Pastor, may I speak with you outside? Then you can decide if you want me here. If not, I completely understand."
In the moonlight, he thought she looked more lovely than before. Her eyes filled with tears as her expression changed.
"I've lost my memory, and I haven't a clue who I am. I escaped from a New Orleans mental hospital two weeks ago. Please believe me, I'm not mentally ill. I just don't remember anything before the asylum.... It's frightening."
She pulled a man's 18 karat gold wedding band from her jean pocket. "I was tipped this a few miles back, performing on the street. Could this buy me a room here for a month or two?"
"Put that ring away! You're welcome to stay as long as you need. We must come up with a name for you though. How about Olivia Smith?"
"Olivia Smith.... That suits me!"
**********
Louisiana Township, Present Day~
After everything was settled in the 1961 cold case of Penny Waltham, Jackson packed the car and whisked King and me away for a restful week on the gulf shore.
The perfumed scent of sea and salt was just the thing, that and a good audio book. Steamed shrimp and dirty rice were eaten more than once in our two-bedroom rental on the water. At night, we could hear the rhythmic sound of the waves beating upon the rocks.
King loved the beach, too, despite his God-given fur coat.
It was a wonderful time, and I cleared my mind for the challenging days ahead as Lead Detective in the cold case division of Lafayette Township Police Department. This was my new position as of May, 2021; bestowed on me by Detective Mike Lembowsky.
On the last day of vacation, I allowed myself to review a cold case file I had received a few weeks ago from my friend and co-worker, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste. His beloved younger sister, Camille, one he referred to as "princess," had gone missing from Port-au-Prince, Haiti in 1989.
Miles was convinced I would be the one to solve the case, although countless investigators had tried. The lieutenant had even hired a renowned private investigator from Chicago; spending all of his inheritance to find his sister.
After Hurricane Katrina in 2005, Camille's case was filed away and marked "unsolved" by the New Orleans PD. Many went missing during that time in an overloaded system.
Just then, I felt a conch shell wash up against me. Jackson caught it and placed it lovingly in my hands. "Things seem to find their way to you, Sal, just like this shell. You'll find Camille Jean-Baptiste. I just know it."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as the Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Superdog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division.
{Louisiana of 1990}
Olivia Smith: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel.
| Author Notes | Pick plate: a sampler plate the cook sets aside for those wanting a taste. It's very popular in the south. |
By Sally Law
Previously, in Chapter One~
On the last day of vacation, I allowed myself to review a cold case file I had received a few weeks ago from my friend and co-worker, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste. His beloved younger sister, Camille, one he referred to as "princess," had gone missing from Port-au-Prince, Haiti in 1989.
Miles was convinced I would be the one to solve the case, although countless investigators had tried. The lieutenant had even hired a renowned private investigator from Chicago, spending all of his inheritance to find his sister.
After Hurricane Katrina in 2005, Camille's case was filed away and marked "unsolved" by the New Orleans PD. Many went missing during that time in an overloaded system.
Just then, I felt a conch shell wash up against me. Jackson caught it and placed it lovingly in my hands. "Things seem to find their way to you, Sal, just like this shell. You'll find Camille Jean-Baptiste. I just know it."
{Chapter Two}
After a farewell walk on the beach, we had one more stop to make at a prestigious art gallery in New Orleans. However, it wasn't to buy, it was to sell one of my uncle Andre Dupree's original floral paintings: White Calla Lillies.
I had a buyer waiting, and a use for the money from the sale. My uncle wouldn't want me to sit on this fortune, especially if I had a friend in need.
I met with the gallery's owner, Duran Gibbons. He welcomed Jackson and me at the door, and kissed me on both cheeks in the customary French greeting.
King liked Mr. Gibbons too, or was easily persuaded with the gourmet dog bones and rock star reception. When someone gets on their knees to pet him, they have a friend for life.
I felt good about my business dealings with him, and the agreed upon price of $550,000 for the 1959 painting. I'd have the oil shipped right away, or be back to deliver it myself. The curator kissed Jackson and me again in sheer delight. Something inside me made it hard to let it go, a piece of art my dear Andre had created.
Then I remembered my friend, Miles Jean-Baptiste, living in a studio apartment with constant maintenance issues, all because he had spent his family's fortune and life savings trying to find his sister, Camille. Such great love--I could not overlook.
We said our goodbyes and arrived back at Lafayette Township by nightfall, hoping for a quiet dinner at home. Instead, we had a group of great cops waiting, and a gluten-free birthday cake to be had. I hadn't avoided my birthday by leaving town. They all made quite the fuss, dressing me up in a plumed hat, velvet gloves, and a boa around my neck. I was blessed with good company... and cake!
"Where did you get this decadent chocolate cake?" I moaned, circling my plate with a fork. "It's positively the best I've ever had!"
"Some hole in the wall outside of New Orleans." Detective Lembowsky reported. "Al's Barbecue and Such."
I took the last bite and pushed away the plate. "We will definitely need to pay a visit. Does he offer catering?"
Someone with lightning-fast search skills had the answer in less than a minute. "Yes, but only within a twenty-five mile radius of River Ridge."
"I'll make it worth his effort," I assured. "We have a dinner meeting coming up on the calendar soon."
"No work talk, Blind Girl," said Detective Mike. "The newest member to our force has something to say." I heard the pop of the cork and the tinkling sound of crystal.
Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste rose to his feet. "For your... ahem... 29th birthday, Madame Detective. May you be blessed with many more! Cheers!"
This I know: Champagne burns coming out the nose....
**********
If I have learned anything in the past three years, it's not to discount the importance of gathering evidence for DNA examination.
DNA matches are gold; strengthening the outcome of a jury trial, and in appellate cases. In recent years, DNA matches have proven to be successful in overturning a court's verdict.
In older cadavers, valuable DNA is oftentimes found in the hard matter of the teeth, bones, and fingernails. Hair specimens contain DNA, and hold toxic residues and poisons that are hard to trace.
In the case of Camille Jean-Baptiste, I was glad to learn that Miles had stored her personal belongings, three large boxes, in a storage unit that was air-conditioned; but it was in New Orleans. There had to be DNA present in those boxes, and I needed it to jump-start this stone cold case.
I had a plan, not a conventional one, but a plan nonetheless. My first step was to get my hands on that DNA and get it to Dr. Marie MacLavish. Once we had Camille Jean-Baptiste's DNA footprint, we could begin a search in some of the national data bases: unclaimed cadavers, criminal, and missing persons.
The oldest missing person case dates back to the early 1900s. Marvin Alvin Clark disappeared on October 30, 1926, while en route from Tigard, Oregon, to visit his daughter in Portland. Authorities and family knew more about Mr. Clark's area of disappearance than I currently knew about Camille's. Yet, I believe they will find Mr. Clark, someday, and identify him thanks to the advancements in DNA technology.
Secondly, once I had all the DNA collected and processed, the best place to begin the search for her was at our port of entry, Port Orleans. I had a hunch the teenager was originally headed for "The Big Easy."
The storage facility was about fifteen minutes by car from the art gallery; so, being the multi-tasker that I am, I informed Mr. Gibbons of my planned delivery.
Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste was ecstatic to partner with me in the search.
Detective Lembowsky was going too, as he was a CSI technician in New Jersey before coming to Lafayette Township. I've learned a lot from my boss on procedures, protocol, and how to efficiently investigate a crime scene.
**********
After days of bad weather, my team headed for New Orleans, traveling in two SUVs. Jackson, King, and I rode with Detective Mike Lembowsky, the oil painting stowed in the rear.
In the second vehicle was Dr. Marie MacLavish and her husband, Alan, along with Miles Jean-Baptiste and his dog, Samson.
We planned on stopping for some lunch in River Ridge to break up the first day.
Detective Lembowsky insisted on the paper map from the "Last Stop" convenience store. It was the last stop all right, as one descends into a scene from "Deliverance." They had a pay phone; and I thought, who has a pay phone anymore?
We left the intersection, going ahead of Dr. MacLavish, who needed to hold back and make a cellphone call. We turned on to County Road 15, knowing she'd catch up eventually.
Once we entered the swamp areas, our GPS went berserk.
"Didn't I tell you guys, these cheap maps are the best," gloated Detective Lembowsky. "Only a buck!"
"Yeah, yeah," we chimed in.
I had just given King a chew bone, when all of a sudden--KAPOW! We hit something.
"Hold on...!" Detective Mike veered right... then left.... Jackson shielded me as we skidded to a stop.
"Is everyone okay...?" Detective Lembowsky wanted the update. King barked and licked my face. "Yeah, we're okay. I think King wants to do that again."
We waited for a few minutes, unable to get roadside assistance or cell service. "Doctor M is sure to be along any minute," Jackson assured. "The tire is blown. Let's get started on this."
We all got out, and Jackson stood me on a patch of soil away from creeping things.
A car came upon us from our rear. I could tell by the sound of the engine, it was a Dodge Charger. King began to circle me in protective mode.
Detective Lembowsky's voice fell to a whisper. "Everyone act natural. I don't like the looks of this."
**********
{River Ridge, Louisiana ~ April 1990}
Monochrome light seeped through a small fold in the bedroom curtains, arousing from a sound sleep the woman calling herself Olivia Smith. Footsteps on the hostel's stairs and the smell of coffee pulled her out from underneath the quilt. She couldn't imagine why the room had a small half bath she wasn't required to share.
Bathing first, she indulged in the rose-scented soap at the basin. She rummaged through the drawer and came up triumphant.
"Nail clippers, and a nail buffer!" Someone had thought to stock the powder room with the necessary things a female would like and need.
An impossible thought crossed her mind, and she dared to entertain it. Clothes? Shoes? Underwear?
Her eyes surveyed the antique chiffarobe, angled in the corner. Boldly, she opened the polished cherry doors.
"How could this be!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. The sign said, "Help Yourself."
Everything was folded neatly or hung, and smelled of fabric softener. Most importantly, several of the ladies' items fit. The jeans were workable when she rolled up the hem. There were shoes, sneakers, and flip flops decorated with sea shells. Even a church dress, wrapped packages of underwear, and a colorful scarf!
After taking a moment to pray, she dressed, made the bed, and sauntered down to the main house. The first person she saw was Pastor Lyle, sitting at the kitchen counter perusing a newspaper.
Coffee cake was just coming out of the oven served by a lady who looked like a movie star. She, too, had flip flops adorned with sea shells. After removing her hot mitts, she extended her hands.
"I'm Shirley Reynolds. You must be our newest visitor. Albert Lee's my hubby of twenty years. Sounds like a prison sentence, don't it?" The room broke out in uproarious laughter. "That ain't true. I love him more than my own life."
Pastor Lyle finally got a word in, hoping his admiration didn't give him away. "How was your first night here, Olivia?"
"I slept so well. Thank you, and thanks to the person who lent me these clean clothes."
"That's Shirley's department," said Lyle. "I just occasionally do the laundry."
Lyle poured Olivia a French Roast coffee and set a slice of the pecan-cinnamon cake on a white plate. "Here, try this."
The morning chatter went on for a few minutes until Olivia bolted for the kitchen sink, heaving. "BLARGH...!"
Lyle quickly moved to corral the house guests outside, while Shirley did damage control inside.
"Olivia, are you okay? Let me get you back to your room," Shirley offered. After the door was shut, the former nurse offered her ear. "Was that the flu, or something of the nine month kind?"
Olivia sat on the edge of the bed with her head bowed. "Would you believe me if I told you--I don't know. I have no memory, Shirley. I came to consciousness in a mental hospital after someone found me in an alley behind a jazz club in New Orleans. No purse, wallet, house or car keys. Not even a library card! I escaped from that hell hole, and here I am. Oh Shirley, what am I going to do...?"
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as the Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Superdog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Curator and owner of "The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art."
{Louisiana of 1990}
Olivia Smith: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue; his wife, Shirley.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel.
| Author Notes | https://pixabay.com/illustrations/paint-oil-painting-pictures-art-4629579/@pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Two~
Lyle poured Olivia a French Roast coffee and set a slice of the pecan-cinnamon cake on a white plate. "Here, try this."
The morning chatter went on for a few minutes until Olivia bolted for the kitchen sink, heaving. "BLARGH...!"
Lyle quickly moved to corral the house guests outside, while Shirley did damage control inside.
"Olivia, are you okay? Let me get you back to your room," Shirley offered. After the door was shut, the former nurse offered her ear. "Was that the flu, or something of the nine month kind?"
Olivia sat on the edge of the bed with her head bowed. "Would you believe me if I told you--I don't know. I have no memory, Shirley. I came to consciousness in a mental hospital after someone found me in an alley behind a jazz club in New Orleans. No purse, wallet, house or car keys. Not even a library card! I escaped from that hell hole, and here I am. Oh Shirley, what am I going to do...?"
**********
{Chapter Three}
{Louisiana, April 1990}
A flood of pent-up emotions flowed freely from Olivia Smith onto a newfound friend. As she rested her head upon Shirley Reynolds, she felt like her mother had returned to her for a moment.
Shirley leaned Olivia back on the bed and put a cool cloth to her head. "Let me get some soda crackers for you. It will steady your stomach. I'll be right back."
Again, the motherly care sparked a brief memory. This time she saw her mother's brunette hair tied back as she moved about in a yellow sun dress. Fresh tears baptized her again, stirring hope.
Shirley came back and noticed the change in Olivia's expression. "Are you feelin' better, hon?"
"Yes. I think I just had a flashback of my mother. One of the doctors in the mental hospital said I may get my memory back in bits and pieces. This is hopeful, yes?"
"I love and serve the God of hope. You have every reason to be hopeful, Olivia."
"Thank you, Shirley. I will take those crackers now," she said, opening her hands.
"When you begin to feel hungry, I will bring you something more substantial... like oatmeal with fresh berries."
"That would be great. I ate some wild blueberries on the road here, and they were delicious."
Shirley's eyes turned more serious. "I need to run by Rite-Aid and pick up some household items. Do you need anything?"
Olivia swallowed the last bit of cracker. "Let me give you a list and some money...."
Shirley held up her hand. "Sweet pea, I've got this. I can't even comprehend what you've been through...."
Olivia accepted the kind offer. "Lotion with aloe in it, and some aspirin. I was hit hard on the back of the head. It's still tender."
"Would you mind if I took a look? I was an ER nurse over at the River Ridge Clinic."
Shirley didn't like what she saw underneath Olivia's thick mane of chestnut-colored hair: a group of multiple head wounds, one of which was very close to the brain stem. She held back, not wanting to lay too much on the mystery girl in her care. "I would suggest Tylenol for the head wounds. It's easier on the stomach. But first, I need to rule out a pregnancy to adjust the proper dosage. I will add a pregnancy kit to the list. That way, you'll know for sure."
Olivia set aside her hesitations. "Yeah, let's do that. I haven't had a period since--I can remember!"
The laughter was heard down the hall and into the kitchen where Lyle had returned to prepare the house breakfast. He smiled and thought, how many times had Shirley taken a bad situation and turned it around?
**********
{On Country Road 15, west of River Ridge, Louisiana.}
The Dodge Charger came to a stop, heaving as the engine was cut. I heard Detective Lembowsky moving towards the car; and Jackson tinkering with the spare tire.
King and I crouched down in the shady spot. My hands formed a series of commands for him: Stay behind me until I snap my fingers, then disarm and disable the men.
King licked my hand in obedience and remained still.
"Thanks for stopping, gentlemen. We have help coming... they should be here any minute. I'm Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky of Lafayette Township Homicide."
As soon as the car doors creaked opened; guns were drawn. "Hands up, Lieutenant! You too, mister. Unload your weapons, nice and slow-like." Detective Lembowsky and Jackson tossed their weapons aside.
"All we want is the oil painting, then we'll be on our way."
I could tell by their Louisiana accents, these guys were local hirelings. Steadying King, I walked forward into the sunshine.
"The painting's mine. It won't do you any good without a certificate of authenticity."
"Don't know what you're talking about, lady. Our boss says it's in a black Chev-a-Lay SUV with that license plate."
"It's about as valuable as a paint-by-number without the certificate. I have it scanned on my cell phone. Would you like to see it? With your permission, I'll reach in my pocket."
No one objected, so I held up one hand and reached with the other.
"She's making sense. I hate when girls start making sense! Are you a cop?"
I put on a tough exterior. "Yes, I am, and a bad-ass! Now, get back in your car before you get into real trouble. You have one minute."
I stood with my blind cane, unmoved. "Go on. Get in your car while you can!"
The second in charge spoke. "Hand over your weapon, and... and... move aside!"
"Not a chance. Like I said, the painting's mine. Did I mention my German Shepherd is a canine officer?" I released King with a snap.
I couldn't see, but I certainly heard it. King was on the leader within seconds. Detective Lembowsky read them their rights while Jackson cuffed them.
"Tell me who you're working for, and I'll make sure you get police protection until the trial," I offered. "What do you say?"
"You would do that?"
"Yep. You have our word, right Detective Lembowsky?"
"Yes! You can double up with us and continue on to River Ridge. We will take your statements at the Sheriff's office there. You'll be able to contact your lawyer, and come under the Sheriff's protection."
"What about our car?"
Detective Lembowsky explained it in graphic terms. "Answer this. Do you want to live, or do you want your car? It's pretty simple. Whoever is running this ring of thieves is highly connected to the criminal underworld. I'd give you two days to live, max."
"The cops are right, Boyd."
"You'll be at risk either way," I said. "Your boss may not care about the certificate. He probably makes his money authenticating the art himself, then puts an inflated price tag on it."
"Can I discuss this with Boyd for a few minutes. Our mama ain't gonna be happy about this."
It finally hit me. "Floyd and Boyd Clarkston? How's your mama and them? I haven't seen your mama since the Christmas potluck."
Floyd declared, "I thought y'all looked familiar. Boyd, this is The Blind Girl... and her dog, King! We followed your uncle's murder trial from beginning to end. Oh man, I can't believe this!" Floyd cried. Just then, cell reception returned, and in time for a group selfie.
The moment was moving, especially when the brothers willingly gave up the name of their boss: Art Curator, Duran Gibbons. Honestly, this was the first time I had ever misjudged someone's character. Still, I'd see Mr. Gibbons soon, hopefully, and accompanied by an agent of the FBI's Department of Antiquities.
Today's interruption was worth it, knowing we had saved the Clarkston twins from being weighted down and thrown into the Mississippi River. They were, after all, still teenagers; and their mother was my friend. However, they saved me from the soiled hands of Mr. Gibbons, in a roundabout sort of way.
Jackson wrapped his arms around me and drew me away for a moment. "What am I going to do with you, Blind Girl?"
"Love me forever...."
**********
{Later that day, in New Orleans}
Anyone who knew Duran Gibbons personally observed his regular schedule. Locking his gallery's doors at precisely five o'clock, he retired to his back office with a cup of peppermint tea.
Reclining on his couch, he thought he'd wait for the call. He dozed, but not for long, waking to the feel of gunmetal against his cheek.
"What are you doing here? You must be patient with these transactions!"
"Where's the original Andre Dupree, Duran? You said it would be here by seven o'clock. Guess what? My cell phone has remained silent. The ungratefuls: they never call--they never write...."
"I have arranged for a heist. I expect them here at any moment. The owner will give it up, no doubt. She's not into bloodshed, and would never put the other officers at risk."
"Other officers? The broad is a cop?" The man leaned in uncomfortably close.
Mr. Gibbons found it difficult to breathe and swallowed hard. "Yes...a cold case detective... with Lafayette Township PD...."
"How nice," said the soulless criminal. "Perhaps she'll still be around to find you in a couple of decades."
"No...! Please...!"
BAM!
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as the Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Superdog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Curator and owner of "The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art."
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
{Louisiana of 1990}
Olivia Smith: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue; his wife, Shirley.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel.
| Author Notes |
Chev-a-Lay= Southern for Chevrolet.
How is your mama and them? Louisiana speak for: How is your mama and everyone still at home? |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Three~
Anyone who knew Duran Gibbons personally observed his regular schedule. Locking his gallery's doors at precisely five o'clock, he retired to his back office with a cup of peppermint tea.
Reclining on his couch, he thought he'd wait for the call. He dozed, but not for long, waking to the feel of gunmetal against his cheek.
"What are you doing here? You must be patient with these transactions!"
"Where's the original Andre Dupree, Duran? You said it would be here by seven o'clock. Guess what? My cell phone has remained silent. The ungratefuls: they never call--they never write...."
"I have arranged for a heist. I expect them here at any moment. The owner will give it up, no doubt. She's not into bloodshed, and would never put the other officers at risk."
"Other officers? The broad is a cop?" The man leaned in uncomfortably close.
Mr. Gibbons found it difficult to breathe and swallowed hard. "Yes...a cold case detective... with Lafayette Township PD...."
"How nice," said the soulless criminal. "Perhaps she'll still be around to find you in a couple of decades."
"No...! Please...!"
BAM!
{Chapter Four}
{River Ridge, Louisiana. July 1990}
The summer days at the hostel were centered around the expected arrival of Olivia's child in the sweltering month of September. Aside from the occasional morning sickness and headaches, Olivia felt good enough to apply for the church's organist position, and had saved enough money to purchase a second-hand crib. Lyle surprised her by sanding it down and oiling it. Without fanfare or trumpets, Lyle knelt by the finished crib and proposed with tear-filled eyes. "Will you marry me...?"
"We will," she said, patting her rounded belly. "It's a unanimous decision."
She knew this wasn't the natural order of things, but Lyle loved her and the baby, even though the child wasn't his. The wedding was planned for the following Sunday.
Shirley came directly from the church and helped Olivia with her hair and makeup, and into a pretty stretch lace dress she'd found at a consignment store. "You rest for a bit, Livvy. I'll send Albert Lee to get you once the clergyman arrives."
Sitting on her bed for the longest time, she tried to let go of a terrible memory that had recently surfaced inside her. The young man who tipped me the gold wedding band... we were married! I thought he'd looked at me with guilty eyes. How could he have left me in that terrible asylum all alone? Still, no name came, only the coldness of his expression.
"That's not a marriage, it's a stupid piece of paper," she said out loud. Reaching over to the nightstand drawer, she pulled out the man's ring. Boldly, she flung it out the open window.
She took a moment to blot her eyes and reapplied pressed powder. Exhaling the angst, she let it go. A new day had come....
The happiest voice from her first day in River Ridge came through the door; pulling her back into the present. "Ya know, miss, I'm glad you're going to be sticking around these parts. Remember, you promised to fix my broken screen door!"
Olivia paused at the door. "Is that right? I may need to send my husband over to do the job. I can't see my toes for squat!"
Al smiled from ear to ear as he handed her a bouquet, laced with pink peonies. "Let's get you married...!"
Olivia held on to her friend Albert Lee Reynolds until she reached her groom, disappearing into that magical place where two souls become one.
And she gave Lyle her whole heart without any hesitation, and Lyle gave his to her. It was unconventional in every sense, yet so full of joy and rich with love.
The bride and groom signed the certificate of marriage and paid the fee. The new life of Olivia Henry had been recorded in the legal records of the state of Louisiana.
**********
{Port Orleans. June 2021}
The gulf sunset was a gorgeous sight, an array of reds mingled with gold, lending promise for the fair weather ahead.
Unaware of the panoramic view from his yacht, was the incurably wicked Tony Alfanzi, hurrying to wash the blood splatter from his designer clothes. It was no good, no good at all. He decided to douse them with lighter fluid and burn them in a metal trashcan, finally throwing the smoking mess into the sea.
He calmed himself with a two-olive martini, then counted the cash he had taken from Duran Gibbons. He had to make it look like a robbery gone wrong.... "If only Mr. Gibbons had given over the cash without a struggle," the news reporter would state, shaking her pretty little head and pointing at the crime scene.
These local reporters... they're held together with hairspray and teleprompters.
Scrolling through Duran Gibbon's list of contacts, he found the owner of the coveted oil painting by Andre Dupree.
Mrs. Sally Law, a.k.a.,The Blind Girl.
17 East Main Street
Lafayette Township, LA
Note: Mrs. Law is the sole heiress to Louisiana artist, Andre Dupree, and owns the entire estate, art collection, and diamond fortune. She's also a Detective, serving on the force of Lafayette Township PD, local philanthropist, and black belt member of Louisiana Aikido Federation.
The criminal narrowed his vision, and set aside the watered-down cocktail. Typing in her name, he continued with an online search.
So... there's much more to be had here. Wow! Fifty-two floral paintings!
**********
{Country Road 15, near River Ridge. June 2021}
Our tired and spent CSI team finally rolled into downtown River Ridge just as the sun was setting. The Sheriff knew we were coming and greeted us at the door.
"Oh my.... you're covered in Louisiana muck!"
"I suppose we are! It's been a helluva day! We are certainly glad to see you, Sheriff. I'm Lead Detective Mike Lembowsky of Lafayette Township PD, and this is my investigative team. We'll be staying in your fine town for a few days, traveling back and forth to New Orleans. We also have two young men with us who would like to turn away from their criminal behavior."
"How refreshing! I'm Sheriff Lyle Henry. I was a pastor until about ten years ago. Glad to hear of the change of heart," he said, acknowledging Floyd and Boyd. "Detective, you and your team must try our famous barbecue. It's on the house for Louisiana's finest. I'll rustle up a plate for the young men after they call their parents."
Sheriff Henry processed Floyd and Boyd Clarkston with care, easing our burden.
We checked into the adjacent motel and showered. An hour later, our ravenous troop headed for our complimentary meal at "Al's Barbecue and Such." Jazz and the smell of savory cooking filled the air. The restaurant's staff brought out extra chairs to accommodate our large group dining street side. I invited the Sheriff to come and eat with us; but he declined, saying he needed to get back to attend to his wife. The way he said it, implied a disability.
"Your wife, is she well?" I asked.
"She is. Like you, Olivia's had to cope with eyesight loss. It's been very hard on her. My evenings center around her. Our daughter, Danielle, cares for her during the day."
"I would like to pay her a visit. I recently went blind and know of the constant adjustments. Perhaps King and I can stop by tomorrow...?"
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as the Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Superdog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons is deceased.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, aka, Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
| Author Notes | https://pixabay.com/photos/sun-sunlight-window-people-woman-2570589/@pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Four~
We checked into the adjacent motel and showered. An hour later, our ravenous troop headed for our complimentary meal at "Al's Barbecue and Such." Jazz and the smell of savory cooking filled the air. The restaurant's staff brought out extra chairs to accommodate our large group dining street side. I invited the Sheriff to come and eat with us; but he declined, saying he needed to get back to attend to his wife. The way he said it, implied a disability.
"Your wife, is she well?" I asked.
"She is. Like you, Olivia's had to cope with eyesight loss. It's been very hard on her. My evenings center around her. Our daughter, Danielle, cares for her during the day."
"I would like to pay her a visit. I recently went blind and know of the constant adjustments. Perhaps King and I can stop by tomorrow...?"
{Chapter Five}
A hot and muggy day was forecast for the southernmost parts of Louisiana, rousing our state bird: the mosquito. I could hear them right outside our motel window, buzzing around the air conditioner's drip pan.
Another sound stirred me, just as I was about to smack a dive-bombing mosquito.
It was Suzy Fleming's '59 Cadillac, wheeling into the Motor Court Inn.
I realized only then, Jackson and King had let me sleep in. Unearthing myself from the covers, I stumbled towards the door.
Knock-Knock-Knock! "Sally dear, it's me!"
I creaked open the door. "Suz, you read my mind. What was I thinking, leaving you in Lafayette Township?"
She escorted me to the edge of the bed and handed me an ice coffee.
"Sit. I'm here to help and get you back on track. You have plenty of time before you leave for New Orleans. I brought some lighter clothes," she said, unzipping a travel bag with vigor. "This polyester cop thing you have going, isn't going to work in this sweltering heat. New Orleans in June is hotter than... New Orleans in June. Here's a four-piece linen ensemble that's chic and professional," Suzy said in her QVC voice.
"You found this in my home closet?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes, with the tags still on them. I brought something for your mound of curls, too. Up and away for today...."
"You're right. We were all dripping wet from yesterday's breakdown. I'm thankful though, it could have been much worse."
Our conversation paused when Suzy switched on the TV. The voices of WKMZ early morning news caught my attention.
"...Authorities are asking for any tips in the disappearance of art curator, Duran Gibbons. Foul play is suspected. If you have any information, please call the New Orleans PD Crime Line at 1-800-444-TIPS."
I almost choked on my latte. "Duran Gibbons has disappeared? Oh, Suzy!"
**********
Our team met again at Al's Barbecue and Such for a hearty breakfast and meeting before our departure to New Orleans.
I was anxious to get on with the cold case of Camille Jean-Baptiste. For reasons I couldn't explain, distractions were pulling me in every direction. Now with the disappearance of Duran Gibbons, the case had become more complicated.
Offering to give a formal statement, I spoke with Captain Will Moran at New Orleans Police Department about my involvement with Mr. Gibbons and my intent to sell the oil painting to him. He seemed surprised to hear that I was in town on the Camille Jean-Baptiste cold case. It turned out to be a good call, insisting we use his mobile CSI lab at no cost. I, of course, received his kindness.
Captain Moran was more than cordial. "I wish you well, Sally. Let me know if there's anything else you might need while you're here."
After breakfast, I delegated an important phone call to Suzy. "Contact The Fountain Gallery on Bourbon Street. Ask them if they are interested in buying my uncle's painting."
"Oh, I'm certain they will be interested, Sally. Do I mention the price?"
"No. I will negotiate the price if the curator agrees to speak with me personally. I'm pretty sure it just went up."
**********
We left River Ridge around ten o'clock. I purposefully rode in Dr. Marie MacLavish's truck along with Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste to discuss the case. Jackson, King, and Detective Lembowsky were behind us in the Suburban with the oil painting.
Suzy hung out in River Ridge with a string of calls to make on my behalf. I gave Suz something fun to do as well--a visit to Olivia Henry bearing roses from me. I still planned on getting by to see her soon, regardless of my fragmented week.
**********
It was even hotter in The Big Easy than I had expected, the humidity stifling. I felt so sorry for King. I laced a cold compress around him.
Doctor M thought to bring a fan. Talk about a godsend. We wasted no time and worked together as fast and efficiently as we could. There was an auction going two units down in the rental complex, which made for nosy people poking in from time to time, wondering if we had anything for sale. One guy in particular wouldn't leave us be. Detective Lembowsky finally flashed his badge and told him to move along.
The first two boxes of Camille Jean-Baptiste's belongings were gold: a bedspread, favorite blanket, and dolly. There was even a hairbrush! Doctor M and I shouted for joy. Miles handed us one thing after another. It was an amazing find. After we had bagged and tagged the valuable DNA, I let the dogs get a good sniff to capture her scent.
The dogs seem to really like her blanket, so I clipped off a piece and stashed it in my tote bag for future use.
Around two o'clock we finally broke for lunch and headed towards the food trucks. We caught a breeze and a break. It was really nice to visit and talk about all the good DNA we had just collected.
Jean-Baptiste sat next to Jackson and me and started to weep. "Happy tears or sad, mon ami?" I asked.
"Happy, Madame Detective. So very happy...."
Just as we gathered our lunch trash, the mobile crime lab pulled in. Doctor M led the charge back to the storage unit and our valuables there. "Now for the good part," she said.
**********
Back in Louisiana Township, Lieutenant Janelle Harris was holding everything together in the absence of Lead Detective, Mike Lembowsky.
A stranger came in the front door of the precinct with an inquiry.
"Excuse me, pretty lady. I know this sounds awfully gushing, but I was hoping to say hello to The Blind Girl... Detective Sally Law. Is she in?"
He looks like something out of a comic strip in that tiger-striped blazer, thought the seasoned detective. "No, she's on a case."
"So...she's out of town?"
"No... just busy. And you are...?
"Aw, just a fan. I'll check back another time. Have a pleasant day," he said, rapping his knuckles on the desk.
He turned and walked out; his face turned away from the surveillance cameras.
Janelle walked to the door and nabbed his license plate number, then ran it through the computer system.
"BR7-113Y belongs to Lonnie Hastings. He just doesn't look like a Lonnie Hastings!"
She radioed Sergeant Dina Ray and gave her the address from the vehicle's registration. "Sergeant, go by the Hastings' residence and make sure everything is okay. Something feels off."
"Roger that, boss."
For protection's sake, she called Detective Lembowsky to tighten security around the force.
The criminal mastermimd raced away in the stolen car towards the Vermilion River, regretting he didn't have another body to dispose of. "I'll get you too, Blind Girl, and the paintings...."
To be continued...
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as the Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Superdog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri- County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons is in a body bag, headed towards the Vermillion River.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, aka, Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl.
Captain Will Moran: New Orlean Police Department.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
| Author Notes | Roger that: I understand and will make it happen. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, from Chapter Five~
A stranger came in the front door of the precinct with an inquiry.
"Excuse me, pretty lady. I know this sounds awfully gushing, but I was hoping to say hello to The Blind Girl... Detective Sally Law. Is she in?"
He looks like something out of a comic strip in that tiger-striped blazer, thought the seasoned detective. "No, she's on a case."
"So...she's out of town?"
"No... just busy. And you are...?
"Aw, just a fan. I'll check back another time. Have a pleasant day," he said, rapping his knuckles on the desk.
He turned and walked out; his face turned away from the surveillance cameras.
Lieutenant Harris walked to the door and nabbed his license plate number, then ran it through the computer system.
"BR7-113Y belongs to Lonnie Hastings. He just doesn't look like a Lonnie Hastings!"
She radioed Sergeant Dina Ray and gave her the address from the vehicle's registration. "Sergeant, go by the Hastings' residence and make sure everything is okay. Something feels off."
"Roger that, boss."
For protection's sake, she called Detective Lembowsky to tighten security around the force.
The criminal mastermind raced away in the stolen car towards the Vermilion River, regretting he didn't have another body to dispose of. "I'll get you too, Blind Girl, and the paintings...."
{Chapter Six}
{New Orleans}
The first day at the storage unit had far exceeded my expectations. Having the mobile crime lab was a huge help in processing the artifacts of missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Extra hands made for light work too. Everything was processed and on its way to our main lab in Lafayette Township, and from there to the different centers and agencies for missing persons. We'd head back to New Orleans tomorrow and begin our search of the club areas with the only vintage photo we had of her, and a composite of what she may look like today. I sent the photos to Suzy's cell phone, and asked her to print them out for the case file.
A few minutes later, I received an urgent call from Suzy; so I excused myself.
"Sal, is this supposed to be an educated guess as to what Camille Jean-Baptiste looks like today?"
"It's more than a guess, it's a forensic composition photo. Why do you ask?"
"How tall is she?"
"Five feet, two inches."
"Yep. This age progression photo looks exactly like Olivia Henry. I spent about a half hour with her this morning."
"Suzy, are you sure?"
"The resemblance is astounding!"
"Mum's the word for now, Suzy. If this is true, then we will have the science to back it up. Second, maybe she doesn't know who she is, or doesn't want to be found. We have to tread lightly here for Miles' sake. Another disappointment would be crushing."
"I understand. You're absolutely right. I saw a woman in the street who looked just like you, Sally, and I ran after her. Most everyone has a look-alike."
"That's true; and there's probably more than one Elvis impersonator walking around in New Orleans today. King and Samson have her scent," I assured. "I will pay her a visit as soon as we return to River Ridge."
A second call came in, and I had to catch it. "Gotta go, Suzy. It may be The Fountain Gallery. Talk soon...."
**********
{On the outskirts of Louisiana Township}
Sergeant Dina Ray was on her way to the Hastings' residence when she sighted the suspicious man that had just left the precinct. She put on her siren and beeped, and waved the sedan over. Being alone, and not far from the county line, she radioed the sheriff and waited for his assistance.
The driver took off again gaining speed, breaking through a barrier, and plunged into the waters of the Vermilion River. Sergeant Ray watched in horror as the car was swept downstream. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, and another man was seen jumping into the current from the passenger's side window. Gripping her chest, she radioed Lieutenant Janelle Harris.
"Boss, send me all the available help you've got! The sedan in pursuit, license number BR7-113Y, is in the Vermilion River. I repeat, the sedan in pursuit is now in the river going downstream! There appear to be two men in the car. Do you copy?"
"Copy that. What's your 20, Sergeant?"
"Vermilion River Bridge Road, near Cold Creek. I'm parked on the northwest side."
"10-4. I'm leaving now with Vanta. Sheriff Holt and EMTs are on their way."
Sergeant Ray looked both ways and prayed. This will be over in five minutes. Oh God, help me! She dove into the chilly waters fully clothed.
**********
A deep fuchsia sky kissed down upon Bourbon Street. Street musicians and revelers were already crowding the sidewalks and narrow byways.
The keepers of the light took great care until each of the lanterns were illuminated. If the weather was fine, like tonight, the sidewalk was swept one last time and the tables and chairs brought outside. Crisp white linens adorned each table, and southern magnolias were arranged in glassware. Gumbo, jambalaya, dirty rice, and smoked fish dip filled the dinner plates.
So many visitors from every walk of life: the good, the bad, the rich, and some just gettin' by, come looking for a game of chance, or just fine Louisiana cuisine.
Spectators and music buffs seem to enjoy the rhythm and blues, no matter their persuasion or pocketbook. This is the best of New Orleans on a summer's night.... It is never unspoiled though, not when evil moves about with a smile.
**********
Jackson, King, and I were released from our crime solving, and had cleaned up pretty well in the small lavatory of the mobile crime lab. We found a little clothing shop and were transformed to take our place for this evening's impromptu art event downtown. We purchased evening wear for ourselves and a black bow tie for King. Jackson set aside some glad rags for Detective Lembowsky too, and emailed him an invitation.
Around six o'clock, Detective Lembowsky arrived at the gallery, dressed in a silk sport coat and tie, flashing his badge and bearing my oil painting. We entered The Fountain Gallery as honored guests for this special auction. We introduced ourselves and turned over the painting after I confirmed its authenticity from my uncle's art journal. It was number twenty of fifty-two in the Andre Dupree Collection.
We sat in the front row with the curator, Annalise Irving. The minimum starting bid was set at $100k. Best of all, I was guaranteed housing of my painting in a vault until it sold to a reputable buyer, however long it took.
Still, Mrs. Irving assured me it would be snatched up tonight. She knew someone who was interested in it; an avid buyer and collector of French and Americana art. What the potential buyer liked the most about my uncle's art was..."His eye for color and detail." I didn't let that dazzle me too much, seeing as Duran Gibbons had said the same thing, and had most likely been sent to the bottom of the Mississippi wearing a concrete overcoat.
My painting was the first one up for bid. You could feel the electricity in the room, circling like a Louisiana thunderstorm.
The painting was given a fine introduction, almost too wonderful. "One in a coveted collection by the famed Louisiana artist and painter of florals, Andre Charles Dupree. We don't know if we will ever see anything of this magnitude again in the near future."
The auctioneer opened the bid at $100k. "Thank you ma'am, do I hear two hundred thousand... three?" The auctioneer hardly took a breath, talking as fast as any human could. "One million... two million... do I hear three million...? Three million once... twice... sold!" The gavel came down.
"Sold to the gentleman in the back for three million dollars!"
Jackson lifted my chin and closed my mouth.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Superdog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; and brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri- County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' remains haven't been found yet.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, aka, Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orlean Police Department.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Six~
The painting was given a fine introduction, almost too wonderful. "One in a coveted collection by the famed Louisiana artist and painter of florals, Andre Charles Dupree. We don't know if we will ever see anything of this magnitude again in the near future."
The auctioneer opened the bid at $100k. "Thank you ma'am, do I hear two hundred thousand... three?" The auctioneer hardly took a breath, talking as fast as any human could. "One million... two million... do I hear three million...? Three million once--twice--sold!" The gavel came down.
"Sold to the gentleman in the back for three million dollars!"
Jackson lifted my chin and closed my mouth.
**********
{Chapter Seven}
The scene at the Vermilion River was something primitive and wild.
Sergeant Dina Ray's eyes were focused on the nearest thing to her--the sedan disappearing underneath the murky waters, with the driver, unmoving, still humped over the wheel.
Looking past the sinking car, she caught sight of the other man, who had made it to the river's edge; falling onto the craggy shore. Relieved, she continued swimming towards the sinking heap.
A loud gurgling sound ensued, creating a vortex that almost pulled her in as the car went down. "Oh, Lord...." Stroking backwards with all her might, she grabbed hold of a rock in the middle of the waterway.
The brave sergeant was relieved for the man who'd survived, but sickened by the certain fate of the other. Wiping her face, she looked again as the setting sun danced like diamonds upon the illusionary waters. But the man on the shore was gone as far as she could tell.
**********
Tony Alfanzi made his way through the woods--drenched--and scolding himself. But, being the big cat that he was, he landed on his feet.
"If I'm going to get to The Blind Girl and her art fortune, I'll need to give up my reckless ways. A tiger is patient, knowing when to strike."
Voices and shouting... sirens and beeps... echoed through the forest. The murderer made his way through the dense overgrowth, looking for a place to hide. A campfire flickered in the distance, and the sound of voices drew him farther on. He knew he had time, as the authorities would be distracted by the sunken car and the two men he knew were inside. Miss Hairdo News will finally get the exclusive on missing art curator, Duran Gibbons, locked in the trunk. Oh, she will love me for the rating boost!
**********
After the longest day of my life and the world's fastest auction, I was ready to head back to River Ridge and collapse. It was a simple wish really, but obviously other things were at work to deny me sleep.
Detective Lembowsky pulled Jackson and me aside at the auction's after-party; handing me real coffee. It was rich, dark, and pungent. My taste buds detected an all-nighter coming. Bad news came with the cream and lumps of sugar.
"I hate to break up this celebration, but I just received a call from Lieutenant Harris. You'll never believe what has just transpired back in Louisiana Township!"
I hurried my first sip of the Louisiana pecan roast coffee and set aside my cup and saucer. "Is Janelle all right? Do we need to leave?"
"I'll go," said our lead detective. "You guys are doing such great work on the Camille Jean-Baptiste case. What transpired today is connected to you, Sally, and it's probably best if I handle the situation." He sat me in a nearby chair, obviously trying to word the last piece just so.
I recognized the concerned tone. "Spit it out, Boss. There's no need to sugar it like this coffee you just served me."
"Sorry...." Clearing his throat, he began anew. "A stranger came in the precinct looking for you--a fan of yours, he said. Janelle denied him any information; then he left. Suspicious of the gentleman's motives, Janelle thought to run his license plates; and as suspected, the name didn't match his persona. Sergeant Ray was dispatched to check him out and came upon his sedan about fifteen miles away near the Frontier County line. She pulled the car belonging to Lonnie Hastings over and called for backup. The sedan took off and plunged into the Vermilion River. Long story short, Sergeant Ray dove in to help the two men in the car."
"And... how is Dina?" I hurried.
"The doctors are keeping her overnight in the hospital."
"Have they recovered the men?"
"Just... Lonnie Hastings...."
"Oh, no...! And the other man...?"
"Sergeant Ray thought he'd made it to shore. It's an impenetrable area, thick with overgrowth. Because of the risk at night, the Sheriff is waiting until daybreak to resume the dredging and search the surrounding area."
I shook my head and cried. "Who is this person, and what does he want?"
"We don't know who he is. He turned his face away from the surveillance camera while he was at the precinct. The only plan at the moment is to increase your protection while you are here on the Camille Jean-Baptiste cold case," said Detective Lembowsky. "NOPD has offered to help."
"How long will you be gone?" I asked.
"One day... two at the most. I need to check on Sergeant Ray and bring her some posies for that ridiculously brave thing she did. We could've lost her...."
"Suzy will handle the flowers, a gift from the team. Let me lift that off you," I insisted.
Just as we gathered our things, Annalise Irving came over with the buyer of the painting. He was rather odd, and his handshake said so much. Spencer Whitehead was his name, from Baton Rouge. Maybe it was me... I was beyond tired.
I remembered my upbringing, and offered him my sincere congratulations. "I hope you enjoy the artwork for many years to come, Mr. Whitehead. My uncle's talent is evident in everything he painted."
"Yes... I'm pleased...." I waited for more, but it never came. Is that all the man had to say after dropping three million on me? As I said, maybe it was just me.
**********
As circumstances demanded, our investigative team had to split up for now. Detective Lembowsky hitched a ride back to Lafayette Township with Dr. Marie MacLavish and her hubby; and Jackson drove the rest of us back to River Ridge.
I slept in my evening gown, which was a first for me. Jackson must've covered me up to keep the dive-bombing mosquitoes off my shoulders. I awoke to the sound of my instant messaging alert, vibrating my phone off the nightstand.
I reached over and pushed the button. It was Jackson.
King and I are on a run, then we will be back with a croissant and coffee for you, and that green thingy you like. Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste is sitting outside our motel door reading a book and standing guard. Be back soon, my love. Jackson.
I wanted to go back to sleep, but didn't. I found my exercise mat and got to stretching.
An adversary was about, a tiger of a man. I had to be ready for his advances--body, soul, and spirit. Meanwhile, I had a life to live and cold case to solve.
After breakfast, King and I were going to visit Olivia Henry by ourselves. I still had a piece of the blanket belonging to Camille Jean-Baptiste in my tote bag. Maybe I'd have a breakthrough soon.
Another long day loomed ahead. But I was hopeful, and I had coffee coming... and a green thingy.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; and brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri- County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' remains haven't been found yet.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orlean Police Department.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes |
Green thingy= kale smoothie.
https://pixabay.com/vectors/tiger-animal-wildlife-cat-wild-1787228/@pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Seven~
As circumstances demanded, our investigative team had to split up for now. Detective Lembowsky hitched a ride back to Lafayette Township with Dr. Marie MacLavish and her hubby; and Jackson drove the rest of us back to River Ridge.
I slept in my evening gown, which was a first for me. Jackson must've covered me up to keep the dive-bombing mosquitoes off my shoulders. I awoke to the sound of my instant messaging alert, vibrating my phone off the nightstand.
I reached over and pushed the button. It was Jackson.
King and I are on a run, then we will be back with a croissant and coffee for you, and that green thingy you like. Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste is sitting outside our motel door reading a book and standing guard. Be back soon, my love. Jackson.
I wanted to go back to sleep, but didn't. I found my exercise mat and got to stretching.
An adversary was about, a tiger of a man. I had to be ready for his advances: body, soul, and spirit. Meanwhile, I had a life to live and cold case to solve.
After breakfast, King and I were going to visit Olivia Henry by ourselves. I still had a piece of the blanket belonging to Camille Jean-Baptiste in my tote bag. Maybe I'd have a breakthrough soon.
Another long day loomed ahead. But I was hopeful, and I had coffee coming... and a green thingy.
{Chapter Eight}
Jackson and King returned from their morning run, thoroughly invigorated. I was surprised to hear he'd purchased the food at Al's Barbecue, even the 'Green Thingy' as Jackson calls it. Apparently, Al's wife Shirley is a health nut, and loves kale smoothies.
We ate in our motel room with the television's volume on low. Everything but the news was featured, and I was ready to switch it off when an alert came on.
Good morning, Lisa Lee. I hear you have some breaking news for those just tuning in!
That's right, Stan. A chilling drama is underway this morning in Frontier County. A late model Ford sedan was pulled from the Vermilion River just now, with two bodies inside. Both males suffered apparent gunshot wounds and one of them was identified as Lonnie Hastings of Lafayette Township, the registered owner of the car. The other victim was identified as missing art curator, Duran Gibbons of New Orleans. An eyewitness at the scene said there was a third man in the car who had swum to shore. No information has been shared on the identity or whereabouts of the survivor. Sheriff Holt spoke earlier, and has assured the citizens that a full investigation will be launched. Tri-County Medical Examiner, Dr. Marie MacLavish, is at the scene. Back to you, Stan.
Jackson broke the stunned silence. "You can't see him, but Detective Lembowsky is working alongside Doctor M."
"So, they haven't caught the third guy? He could be halfway across the country by now, or in River Ridge!"
Jackson sensed my angst and pulled me close. "They've got this, Sal. Keep your mind here as best you can. We are close to a break in the cold case, I know it!" I enjoyed my husband's reassurances for a good long while.
**********
Suzy arrived at our motel room in a whirlwind. "Did you see the news? Oh my word, those poor men! Sergeant Ray! What do you know?"
"I know as much as WKMZ reporter, Lisa Lee. Jackson forbids me to worry, and he's right. Detective Lembowsky and Doctor M are on it. Sergeant Ray is still in the hospital. By the way, could you order some flowers for her from the team? Sunflowers are her favorite."
Suzy let out a sigh. "How do you know everyone's favorite flower? Never mind, consider it done."
"I believe pink peonies are yours. Get some of those, as the Motor Court Motel may be our home a little longer."
**********
The spiritually charred Tony Alfanzi lucked out, catching a ride on an oil tanker bound for New Orleans. His soggy roll of hundred dollar bills made for a nice agreement, and, in his mind, would have him back to his yacht before margarita time. The driver was a talker though, and yammered the whole way.
The tiger rubbed his temples, trying not to scream. "How much longer, man? I'm really hungry."
Dwayne Cooper was the picture of a Texas oil rig driver: trucker cap, tattooed arms, and burley chest that stretched his work shirt to the max. 'Big D' had a place in mind, etched in his food memory.
"Let me introduce you to the best open-pit BBQ this side of the Mississippi! We're just about there... River Ridge, Louisiana. Parking's a bit of a hassle, but well worth it."
"River Ridge...? Never heard of it."
**********
Back in room 26 at the Motor Court Motel; Suzy spread out her laptop and went to work.
"I'm glad you forwarded some of this DNA stuff to me, Sally. This is so fascinating! By the way, did you listen to this reply from Strong Again Institute in New Orleans? Looks like we have a hit on Camille Jean-Baptiste.
"No, yesterday was exhausting. Press play and we'll listen together...."
This message is for Detective Sally Law. My name is Elizabeth Del Campo, the administrator here at Strong Again Institute. I'm calling in response to the email your office sent out with the photo composite of missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste. We had a teenager admitted here in April of 1999. She was a victim of an assault behind one of the jazz clubs. She'd lost her memory completely from the head trauma, suffering from delusions and paranoia. The young man who checked her in didn't leave much information and left hurriedly, according to a Post-It note in the paper file. You're welcome to a copy of the file as it contains a brain scan and comments from the attending physician at the time. No other information as to when she was discharged, I'm afraid. This was long before I came on to bring the needed improvements to this hospital and the renaming of it. Let me know how I may be of further assistance, Detective.
I switched off my instant messager and leaned back in my chair. "Suzy, get a copy of the medical records from Ms. Del Campo and forward the brain scan to Doctor M. She's a forensic anthropologist and will be able to verify if this young lady is indeed Camille Jean-Baptiste. In the meantime, King and I will drop by and visit Olivia Henry."
"Let me go with you to Olivia's house, Sally. It may prove to be helpful, since both of you are blind."
"Good point. Give me a few minutes and we'll head out."
**********
I was ready in record time, as Suzy helped me and my ever-growing tote to the door. Once outside, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste greeted me. "Madame Detective, I am at your service until your husband returns. Jackson said I'm not to let you out of my sight. Where to?"
So much for my plan to meet privately with Olivia Henry, I thought.
"How about Al's Barbecue and Such? Would you care to join us?" We walked together arm in arm trying to avoid an oil tanker illegally parked at the far end of the Motor Court Motel. "It looks like the lunch crowd is already having trouble finding a parking spot," commented Jean-Baptiste. "Perhaps the French cafe around the corner? The pastries are magnifique!"
"As long as they are dog-friendly," I said. "And have Wi-Fi," Suzy added.
"But, of course! There is no other way to dine for people like us."
Suddenly, an unexplainable fear came upon me, causing me to stop. I was being surveilled, and I knew it. King felt it too.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; and brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri- County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' remains haven't been found yet.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper, "Big D": Truck driver
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Eight~
I was ready in record time, as Suzy helped me and my ever-growing tote to the door. Once outside, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste greeted me. "Madame Detective, I am at your service until your husband returns. Jackson said I'm not to let you out of my sight. Where to?"
So much for my plan to meet privately with Olivia Henry, I thought.
"How about Al's Barbecue and Such? Would you care to join us?" We walked together arm in arm trying to avoid an oil tanker illegally parked at the far end of the Motor Court Motel. "It looks like the lunch crowd is already having trouble finding a parking spot," commented Jean-Baptiste. "Perhaps the French cafe around the corner? The pastries are magnifique!"
"As long as they are dog-friendly," I said.
"And have Wi-Fi," Suzy added.
"But, of course! There is no other way to dine for people like us."
Suddenly, an unexplainable fear came upon me, causing me to stop. I was being surveilled, and I knew it. King felt it too.
**********
{Chapter Nine}
At our home on 17 East Main Street in Louisiana Township is a secret place, a former wine cellar we converted into a vault large enough to house my uncle's paintings. The garden path leading there is lined with the roses my dear Andre loved so much.
Flowers were his inspiration, no matter the color or place he called home. He talked to them--it's true, and would sit amongst them and paint from his wooden stool.
Who can say they own something of this magnitude, passed down by loving hands? Not many. Still, my uncle was a humble man and enjoyed the beautiful simplicity of a flower. To French-born painter, Andre Dupree, lovely treasures were meant to beautify a life--not possess it. I know his spirit lives in me in that regard.
"Money in the hands of good people has endless possibilities," Andre would say.
However, my uncle had seen all too well what money can do to the wicked soul, and he took great pains in making sure his fortune was directed to me.
A murdering criminal, most likely involved in a ring of art thieves, was after my paintings, and near me now in the streets of River Ridge. Suzy and Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste were feeling it, along with our dogs, Samson and King.
"Act natural while I scan the crowd," said the lieutenant in a low tone. "Samson and I are going over to the restaurant's menu board for a looksee. We'll be right back."
I pulled an aikido stick from my tote and began twisting the pieces together. Suzy seemed puzzled, and asked, "What the heck do you need that for?"
"Suzy... do exactly as I say. Move towards Jean-Baptiste, and take his arm."
"No way! I won't leave you here...!"
"Suzy, you must trust me. Now, go!"
**********
Tony the Tiger couldn't believe his luck today... a cell phone store adjacent to Al's Barbecue and Such. After he polished off his meal, he posed a question to his traveling companion, going for round three at the buffet. "I am stuffed! Do you mind if I run to the cellular store and pick up a cheap phone? It's really for my mother. She's on kidney dialysis."
Big D about cried in his clam chowder. "Moms are so important. God bless ya for that." He rolled up his sleeve a little more to sport his tattoo of motherly affection.
Tony Alfanzi continued on script, "Where would we be without our mother's love?"
"Go on and get that phone while I finish up here," said the Texas trucker, dabbing his eyes. "They have pecan sweet rolls coming out of the oven in five!"
"Take your time," said the lying murderer. "I will be in and out in twenty minutes." Remembering his table manners, he excused himself, slipping on his borrowed Texas Rangers baseball cap. It was then he saw her. Is it really her? Impossible... improbable... how opportunistic! The Blind Girl is here in River Ridge? No need for me to hurry back to New Orleans. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again.
The tiger entertained another plan and headed for a local motel, knowing cash payment wouldn't be a problem in this relic of a town.
One surprise begat another, as the junior maintenance manager was holding down the front desk at the Motor Court Motel. The tiger made his way into the past, a scene decorated in black and white, and accented in pleather* furnishings. "I would like a room, please. Any one will do."
"Welcome! I'm sorry, but the proprietor is on his lunch break. Is there anything I can get for you while you wait? A strawberry lemonade or ice water?"
Tony spied a vintage phone, straight out of Sheriff Andy Taylor's Mayberry. "I need to make a call. Does this phone actually work?"
"Sure does." The substitute clerk spun the phone around on the countertop. "Local calls only, sir. Help yourself."
Tony dialed the number halfway and hung up. "Young man, I'll take a bottled water, if you don't mind, and a straw."
"There are some straws in the break room. I'll be right back."
Pausing until the teenager was out of earshot, the bad cat dialed the number from his memory.
The pleasant voice of the receptionist picked up the line. "The Fountain Gallery of New Orleans. How may I direct your call?"
Cupping his hand around the receiver, he whispered, "Analiese Irving, please."
"May I tell her who's calling?"
"It's Tony."
**********
Big D finished his dessert, knowing he wouldn't need to eat again until tomorrow. Looking past the cellular store and into the street again, he scoured the area for the man traveling with him. It had been well over an hour.
More disturbing, the local sheriff and a few cops were gathered at his oil truck. He pulled out the wad of hundred dollar bills he'd received from the grateful hitchhiker. "Maybe this will satisfy them since I'm a traveling man."
Dwayne Cooper headed across the intersection with his sweaty hands shoved back into his jean pockets, hoping the fine wouldn't be too exorbitant.
**********
Jean-Baptiste stirred our group to action. "It's show time. Here comes the rig's driver."
I held out my badge and greeted him. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm Detective Sally Law with Louisiana Township PD. This is my partner, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste; and Sheriff Henry of River Ridge."
"I realize I'm illegally parked," he said, handing over his commercial driver's license. "Just tell me how many zeros, and I will take care of this infraction right here!"
I could tell he was an honest man, and tried to put him at ease. "I will pay for your parking fine, sir, for a bit of information. We have reason to believe your hitchhiker may know something about a double homicide in Frontier County where the remains of two men were pulled from the Vermilion River. Did you happen to pick up your hitchhiker in that area?"
"Yes...! He told me his fishing boat had capsized."
"Do you know where he is? We'd like to bring him in for questioning."
"He's vanished. Oh, man... I'm such an idiot!"
The trucker's undigested buffet was next, and hit the ground, a little bit too close to my boots.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; and brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri- County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings' body awaits forensic examination.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper, "Big D": Truck driver
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes | *Pleather: fake leather that sticks to the back of my legs every time I sit. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Nine~
I could tell the truck driver was an honest man, and tried to put him at ease. "I will pay for your parking fine, sir, for a bit of information. We have reason to believe your hitchhiker may know something about a double homicide in Frontier County where the remains of two men were pulled from the Vermilion River. Did you happen to pick up your hitchhiker in that area?"
"Yes...! He told me his fishing boat had capsized."
"Do you know where he is? We'd like to bring him in for questioning."
"He's vanished. Oh, man... I'm such an idiot!"
The trucker's undigested buffet was next, and hit the ground, a little bit too close to my boots.
**********
{Chapter Ten}
The Africa-hot day kept Analiese Irving indoors, dining in her office at The Fountain Gallery. July and the very mention of Tony Alfanzi made her staff run for cover. She had just taken a bite of the chilled tofu salad when the intercom blared. Buzz...Buzz...Buzz!
"This better be important," she snapped.
"Call for you on line one, Mrs. Irving. It's Tony."
The curator didn't wait to swallow the soybean curd. "Why are you calling me on this line, Tony? Where is your head?"
"On you, my darling.... I'm sorry to say, I don't have my cell or time to flirt. I had a little accident and need your help. Wire money to the Western Union in River Ridge, Louisiana, under my alias, Anthony Fabio. Once I get checked into this fleabag of a motel, I will either have to rob a clothesline or go shopping."
"Seriously? I need you back here, Tony. I had a visit this morning from a cop, Detective Jackson Law. His wife is a cop too--the heiress of the Andre Dupree art fortune."
"What? The Blind Girl's husband was there... this morning?"
"Yes, he just left. I have you to thank for this, Alfanzi, I just know it!"
"Why'd he come to see you?"
"The oil painting, Calla Lillies, went for three million dollars at my latest auction. The painting somehow disappeared from the new owner's residence as soon as the old man locked it in his safe and retired to bed with a hot toddy. The FBI is launching an investigation! Tony, you can't leave me here to handle this mess...!"
"Oops, gotta run. Hurry with the money, honey!"
Stabbing the salad violently with her fork, she wished it was Tony Alfanzi. "I can't believe I was once married to him!" Blind with fury, Analiese threw the salad against the wall, then picked up her cell phone.
**********
In Frontier County, Dr. Marie MacLavish and Detective Mike Lembowsky worked side by side with the Sheriff's office, combing the Ford sedan for evidence. Along for the hands-on training were some of Sheriff Holt's newest deputies.
Experienced in CSI procedures, Detective Lembowsky trained as he went in the technical gathering of evidence.
"Trace evidence is crucial, as it oftentimes connects the other evidence, painting a larger picture," explained the detective. "Also in this category is gun shot residue, accelerant, paint, soil, sand, glass, and fibers. Pinpointing the type of weapon used in a crime, and/or firearm, is key. The gun powder patterns tell us how the gun was fired and from what angle. Fingerprints or partial prints can be found on bullets, fragments, pellets, wadding, and cartridges."
The Jersey-born detective thumbed through the manual for a picture as he continued, "From my initial findings, it looks like a .38 Special was used on both victims. However, the ballistic specialist will confirm this, typically within a few hours."
Doctor M led the forensic biology gathering of all blood, body fluids, hair, nail scrapings, blood stain splatter, and drip patterns, as her husband Alan marked them with proficiency. By lunchtime, the group was amazed by what they were able to recover from the sunken car. Blood mixed with facial hair, trapped in the glass of the passenger side window had already been sent out by courier.
Detective Lembowsky left the session with an encouraging word.
"Great work today, everyone! We gathered quite a bit from the car and trunk. If I leave you with anything today, it's this: Always examine in groups of twos, as it will leave less margin for error. Lastly, I've designated Alan MacLavish as the processor of today's crime scene. Turn in all your evidence to him along with your unused kits."
The warm weather drove Detective Lembowsky to a piece of paradise offered in the shade. Sheriff Holt followed, bearing a cold orange soda. "Never have I felt so understaffed and ill-prepared," he said, twisting off the bottle cap. "Here you go."
"Thanks. I forget to drink when I'm processing a crime scene," admitted Detective Lembowsky.
"Mike, what else do you know about this? It would really help me wrap my brain around this horrific crime."
Detective Lembowsky took a long swig of the tart drink and wiped his brow. "It's the weirdest thing. My team left for New Orleans by way of River Ridge to investigate a decades-old missing person's case. It seems like evil forces have been chasing my lead detective, Sally Law, from the get go, all because she chose to sell one of her uncle's paintings. Now that I am sitting here with you, I'm gaining clarity."
"How so?"
"Things don't always happen in the order we think they should. Maybe we're supposed to solve this case too. How could we not when it's been thrown right in front of us?"
"Two men shot execution style, found in a sunken car, has a way of getting one's attention," said the Sheriff.
Detective Lembowsky inquired, "Any leads on the missing man?"
"Just some CB chatter. I sent it out on the police wire about an hour ago. One trucker picked up a hitchhiker fifteen miles from here; another oil rig picked up someone twenty miles out. I haven't had any responses."
"Send it out again, Sheriff, to the bordering states. These truckers drive without stopping and pick up all sorts of criminals without hesitation."
Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by sights and sounds that left them gaping: a man and a woman traipsing nude through the brush.
"I told you this was a bad idea, Rick!" The woman held a large palm frond in front of her, trying not to blush to her fingertips. "I totally blame him, officers, for this romantic getaway fiasco!" Stopping to scratch the welts on her arms, she continued, "'Let's go skinny dipping,' he said. 'Our clothes will be perfectly safe.' Ha! We were robbed... in the middle of nowhere! Not even a wet match was left!"
"Sweetheart... I'm sorry," Rick said for the hundredth time.
Sheriff Holt's team circled them with blankets while Detective Mike Lembowsky broke up the quarrel. "You're safe now. Let's get you both checked out; and once you've been hydrated, I will take your statements." The newlyweds suddenly quieted when they saw the crime scene tape, and two bodies covered with a tarp.
"Officer, were we in danger?" The lovers drew together and embraced.
"Most likely. This is an active crime scene with a missing person at large. You may have been robbed by the man we are looking for," said the detective. "Be glad you were spared."
*********
Poor Dwayne Cooper apologized to me over and over, offering to pay for my boots. "They are waterproof," I said, as I doused them with bottled water. "Look... good as new!"
The Texas trucker obligingly gave us the account of his eventful morning and description of the man he picked up near the Vermilion River.
"He has a medium build, trim, dark hair and eyes, and had a good amount of stubble. I'd say he's about your height, ma'am, 5' 10" or so. There was a wound on his left hand, still red and swollen. I offered him some ointment, and he accepted."
"Anything else noticeable?" I asked. "Scars, birthmarks, piercings, or tattoos?"
"Yes, the name Ana was tattooed on his left wrist."
"What was he wearing?"
"Well-worn blue jeans, T-shirt, boots, and one of my Texas Rangers' caps in dark blue."
"Thank you, Mr. Cooper."
"We'll need to dust the truck for prints," said Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste. "I assume he touched the usual things."
"Yes, he did. Also the glove compartment, first-aid kit, and he even fiddled with the CB radio."
"May I have your truck keys?" asked Jean-Baptiste. "Samson and I will need to take a look."
"You bet," said Big D. "Do you want me to start it for you?"
"We'll take it from here, Mr. Cooper. Madame Detective, will you do the honors? I can imagine it's been awhile since you were behind the wheel."
Before I could resist, Suzy took my tote and reached for King's leash. "Mr. Cooper and I will find some shade in the motel lobby, Sal. I'm calling Jackson to let him know what's going on. By the way, where is he?"
"The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans. I expect him back any moment." I pressed my smart watch for the time, surprised it was already 1:30! I released King with a good petting and a command. "Protect Suzy and Mr. Cooper while I go to work."
Sheriff Henry sensed my concern and announced he would guard the motel area while we gathered evidence.
**********
It was quite thrilling to be in the driver's seat of a rig. My gloved hands started the engine and a burst of cold air ensued.
Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste situated me in the cushy seat before closing the door. The passenger side door opened and Samson made himself comfortable in the rear compartment and began sniffing. Miles dusted the cab for prints, then examined the ash tray and picked through the trash. Last was the area underneath the passenger's seat. "What have we here? A .38 Special?"
"It may be Big D's," I assured. "Most truckers are registered handgun owners."
Jean-Baptiste examined the handgun thoroughly and opened the chamber. "It's wet, Madame Detective, with only one bullet remaining. Also, if this belonged to Mr. Cooper, it would be within his reach."
"So... the law enforcement alert we received was spot on," I said. "This could be the missing man from the Vermilion River."
I leaned forward and felt underneath the driver's seat, and as suspected, there was another handgun in a Velcro holder. "Come around, Miles, and handle this for me."
He did as I asked, and released the holstered .45 from the Velcro, finding the permit inside. "It's registered to Dwayne R. Cooper of Austin, Texas."
The lieutenant and I had found enough evidence to warrant concern. "I'm calling NOPD for SWAT backup, Miles. Secure the area until we have more support for a door-to-door search."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri-County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings' body awaits forensic examination.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper, "Big D": Truck driver
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes | Art from pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Ten~
It was quite thrilling to be in the driver's seat of a rig. My gloved hands started the engine and a burst of cold air ensued.
Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste situated me in the cushy seat before closing the door. The passenger side door opened and Samson made himself comfortable in the rear compartment and began sniffing. Miles dusted the cab for prints, then examined the ash tray and picked through the trash. Last was the area underneath the passenger's seat. "What have we here? A .38 Special?"
"It may be Big D's," I assured. "Most truckers are registered handgun owners."
Jean-Baptiste examined the handgun thoroughly and opened the chamber. "It's wet, Madame Detective, with only one bullet remaining. Also, if this belonged to Mr. Cooper, it would be within his reach."
"So... the law enforcement alert we received was spot on," I said. "This could be the missing man from the Vermilion River."
I leaned forward and felt underneath the driver's seat, and as suspected, there was another handgun in a Velcro holder. "Come around, Miles, and handle this for me."
He did as I asked, and released the holstered .45 from the Velcro, finding the permit inside. "It's registered to Dwayne R. Cooper of Austin, Texas."
The lieutenant and I had found enough evidence to warrant concern. "I'm calling NOPD for SWAT backup, Miles. Secure the area until we have more support for a door-to-door search."
{Chapter Eleven}
The temperature was rising in New Orleans, and inside of Analiese Irving's swanky office. Her luminous patina was suddenly becoming a ghastly shade of prison gray.
Visions of a tiny cell and unflattering striped jumpsuit moved her to make the call.
"FBI, New Orleans Field Office, Department of Antiquities, please. Yes, I'll hold." Analiese strummed her manicured nails nervously as she waited. The soft music was putting her to sleep, so she pressed the power button on the TV's remote. Immediately, WKMZ Breaking News displayed on the screen, with a close-up of star reporter, Lisa Lee.
It's a hot one out here today, but not nearly as heated as the double homicide at the Vermillion River in Frontier County. At this hour, authorities are still processing the scene where the bodies of art curator, Duran Gibbons; and Lafayette Township senior citizen, Lonnie Hastings, were pulled from a Ford sedan submerged in the river. I have Sheriff Greyson Holt with an update. Sherriff--
Analiese muted the live report, realizing her partner in crime, Tony Alfanzi, had something to do with the double homicide. In her heart, she was sure of it. Chills went up her spine when she connected the dots to Tony's presence in River Ridge--and interest in her client, Detective Sally Law. Art theft is one thing; unnecessarily cruel, cold-blooded murder is something else altogether.
The voice on the other end called her back to the phone.
"Hello... is anyone there?"
"Can I just leave an anonymous tip?" Analiese realized how immature the request sounded, and smacked herself.
"That depends," said the agent. "If you are involved in a crime, or crimes, it's best to come forward and give your testimony. We can put you in protective custody, ma'am, if you feel your life may be in danger."
Another disturbing flash from the TV screen did her in. "Sir, can we meet right now?"
"I'm near the jazz district," said the agent. "And you?"
"The same. Meet me at The Fountain Gallery... say... twenty minutes?"
"I'll be there."
**********
Back in River Ridge, Tony Alfanzi finished his call abruptly, drawn to investigate the commotion outside the Motor Court Motel.
Peering through the blinds, he saw Big D, flanked by law enforcement and the humongous German Shepherd he'd seen earlier.
Tony waved to the desk clerk, quickly excusing himself to the restroom. Continuing down the hall, he headed towards the "Employees Only" area.
Opening the door, he peeked inside. "Good, no one's here."
The staff's room was another step back in time, with wood paneling on every wall. Near the back entry, iron hooks draped with assorted clothes hung strategically close to the employee time clock.
He layered a chambray shirt over himself to appear heavier, finishing with a floppy hat. Rifling through a rolltop desk, he looked for anything that might help him: cash, credit cards, or a weapon. In the bottom drawer was a secret compartment he sprung open with a letter opener. "A Smith & Wesson .38, just like mine. Sw--eet!"
The brainsick cat slipped the gun in his waist, then clocked out using someone's time card. Several people were milling about the alleyway, as well as a homeless man asleep on a bench. He grabbed the poor soul's backpack and flung it over his shoulder.
Into the streets of River Ridge went the killer, unrecognizable. A Victorian-style home with a sprawling magnolia tree provided the perfect backdrop, and cover from the sun's blistering rays. Eyeing the downtown scene, Tony waited for the cops to leave the area.
To his dismay, the motel plaza filled in with more law enforcement, focusing on Dwayne Cooper's oil rig. They are onto me! Analiese!
His seething was interrupted by a woman's voice as she called out. "Is someone there? Lyle Henry, what the devil is going on?" The garden gate opened, and the tiger pounced on the golden opportunity. Olivia Henry trembled as she felt the gunmetal on the back of her head--the same place of her injuries from long ago.
"Walk this way, lady, and don't make a peep."
"I'm blind, so you will have to steer. By the way, my husband is the sheriff."
"How about that! Today must be my lucky day!"
The petite Olivia stumbled along, tucking her mailbox key between her knuckles, waiting for an opportunity.
"Don't worry, sweet peach, I'm going to let you live. I have another one in mind that will gladly take your place.... Keep moving forward and don't say a word."
Tony Alfanzi walked towards the oil rig with Olivia Henry firmly in his grasp. His cat eyes were on his target as she was climbing down from the oil rig.
Sheriff Lyle Henry was the first to see them coming on foot across the street. "Oh, dear God, that's my wife!"
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri-County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings' body awaits forensic examination.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper, "Big D": Truck driver
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Eleven~
Into the streets of River Ridge went the killer, unrecognizable. A Victorian-style home with a sprawling magnolia tree provided the perfect backdrop, and cover from the sun's blistering rays. Eyeing the downtown scene, Tony waited for the cops to leave the area.
To his dismay, the motel plaza filled in with more law enforcement, focusing on Dwayne Cooper's oil rig. They are on to me! Analiese!
His seething was interrupted by a woman's voice as she called out. "Is someone there? Lyle Henry, what the devil is going on?" The garden gate opened, and the tiger pounced on the golden opportunity. Olivia Henry trembled as she felt the gunmetal on the back of her head--the same place of her injuries from long ago.
"Walk this way, lady, and don't make a peep."
"I'm blind, so you will have to steer. By the way, my husband is the sheriff."
"How about that! Today must be my lucky day!"
The petite Olivia stumbled along, tucking her mailbox key between her knuckles, waiting for an opportunity.
"Don't worry, sweet peach, I'm going to let you live. I have another one in mind that will gladly take your place.... Keep moving forward and don't say a word."
Tony Alfanzi walked towards the oil rig with Olivia Henry firmly in his grasp. His cat eyes were on his target as she was climbing down from the oil rig.
Sheriff Lyle Henry was the first to see them coming on foot across the street. "Oh, dear God, that's my wife!"
{Chapter Twelve}
An eerie, unbearable tension had fallen over downtown River Ridge. How we had progressed to a hostage situation, I could not say. Jackson returned and took my hand as I was getting down from the cab.
"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart. Where's King?"
"He's with Suzy and the rig's driver in the motel lobby. Go get him, but keep King off to the side. Make sure he can see me at all times."
Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste had his gun drawn and remained beside me. "Here comes our man."
Sheriff Henry came over to where I was waiting with Jean-Baptiste, and knelt. "He's holding Olivia impossibly close! We can't take any risks!"
"God has blessed me with the eyes of an eagle," stated Jean-Baptiste. "The criminal hasn't a chance."
The brazen abductor continued to come, and then stopped. The sound of Olivia whimpering was more than any of us could stand.
"I want a chopper, now! We will walk to the open field, and I will board the chopper with this pretty little thing. If anyone tries to stop me, the broad gets it."
Captain Will Moran of NOPD stepped up with a megaphone. "Remain calm, sir. It will take time to get a copter."
Sheriff Henry pleaded, "I will take her place! What do you say?" He threw aside his guns and presented himself.
"That's mighty kind of you, Sheriff, and sure to get you bonus points. I will agree to take Detective Sally Law in her place."
My protectors were in unison. "Not happening!"
The bargaining madman repeated himself. "Be smart and take the offer; otherwise, you leave me no choice but to fly away and leave you worrying."
"Offer him a car and safe passage if he gives himself up peacefully," I said.
"We're prepared to give you a car and ...."
The man snapped before Captain Moran finished. "I don't want a car! Give me Detective Law and a *%#! copter right now!"
Heat had baked the criminal senseless as the stand-off continued. I feared he'd hurt Olivia Henry trying to get to me, and I just couldn't live with that.
Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste took the megaphone and engaged him for a bit, creating a distraction. I waved to Captain Moran to join us behind the truck door.
"Captain, let me do the trade," I said. "I'm a black belt in aikido; and my dog, King, is a canine officer, watching and waiting to help. He's already in position."
While the captain entertained my suggestion, I traded my blazer for a bulletproof vest. Jackson assisted me, securing the Velcro, then placed a small device in my right ear. "I will help you, and guide you every step of the way."
"Okay, Blind Girl, you're on," said the captain in a resolved tone. "We have Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste on the trigger--just in case."
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out in the open with my hands up. "You have a deal! Let Mrs. Henry go!"
The madman's testy reply was climbing with the temperature. "Well, come on then! I don't have all day! Throw off your gun!"
"I don't carry a gun, but I think you knew that."
"Yeah, I haven't figured you out, lady. You're as rich as the Queen of Sheba--blind--and you want to be a cop!"
"I AM a cop!"
Jackson guided me to the crying Olivia, assuring King was on the move. "Come on... let her go!" I held out my hands as he grabbed me and pushed Olivia off. The switch was complete.
I heard Jackson again in my ear. "Detective Lembowsky just texted a match to the blood from the sunken Ford. It belongs to Anthony Alfanzi of New Orleans."
The abductor's grip tightened, and his hot breath whispered in my ear. "I can't imagine how much fun this is going to be while I wait for the ransom.... I'll tell your hubby to take his time."
I whispered back, "Should I call you Anthony or Tony? Which do you prefer?"
His body tensed as he pressed the gun painfully into my neck. "How do you know that?"
"I make it my business to know that...!" He reared back to slap me, and when he did, King nipped his arm and we wrestled him to the ground. The gun fired in the process.
The rest was a strange dream as I felt every ounce of strength drain from me. My spirit left my body and floated above River Ridge, looking down with perfect vision at myself lying in the street. The ones I loved were around me calling my name and shouting commands. "Officer down! Gunshot wound to the neck!" Blue lights... red lights... flashing all around.
The next scene was paradise, one of exquisite beauty and vibrant colors. Flowers bloomed everywhere along with rare species of plants. Tamed wild animals walked about and grazed. My Uncle Andre greeted me and showered me with kisses. I realized then, that while on Earth, I'd never been able to see him. "How handsome you are, my pet. I've missed you so!"
His eyes were happy, yet drenched in tears. "You must go back, ma fille aimante. It is not your time.... Not your time...."
I awoke in a hospital bed with the words "time" ringing in my ears. The gentle sound of Jackson's breathing let me know he was sleeping nearby. I tried to speak, but nothing but a croak came.
"Ja--ck!"
He stumbled towards me, making an awful racket. "Oh, my love! You're awake! You've come back!"
My hands cupped his bearded face, and searching fingers ran through his shaggy hair. He wasn't as I had left him. "Honey, are you all right?"
"I am now," he assured, pressing his lips to mine. We mingled in bed, tangled in the wires until the nurse burst through the door.
"She's awake! Oh, thank you, Jesus!" The nurse scrambled down the hall, calling for the doctor. "Doctor Pierce, hurry! You've got to see this!"
"Jackson, how long have I been in here?"
"Three months."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri-County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings' body awaits forensic examination.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper, "Big D": Truck driver
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes | My loving girl= ma fille aimante. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twelve~
I awoke in a hospital bed with the words '"time" ringing in my ears. The gentle sound of Jackson's breathing let me know he was sleeping nearby. I tried to speak, but nothing but a croak came.
"Ja--ck!"
He stumbled towards me, making an awful racket. "Oh, my love! You're awake! You've come back!"
My hands cupped his bearded face, and searching fingers ran through his shaggy hair. He wasn't as I had left him. "Honey, are you all right?"
"I am now," he assured, pressing his lips to mine. We mingled in bed, tangled in the wires until the nurse burst through the door.
"She's awake! Oh, thank you, Jesus!" The nurse scrambled down the hall, calling for the doctor. "Doctor Pierce, hurry! You've got to see this!"
"Jackson, how long have I been in here?"
"Three months."
{Chapter Thirteen}
Three months in a coma is a long time to be absent from life. For me, it felt like five minutes of heavenly splendor; for Jackson and our force, an eternity.
My devoted husband never left my side: he ate, worked, prayed, and labored in the hospital's waiting room, and slept on a rollaway bed next to me at night.
King was taken care of by Detective Mike Lembowsky in his familiar home away from home.
Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste divided his time between River Ridge and Louisiana Township. Jackson said he visited often to inquire of my progress. Our devout friend searched out the hospital's chapel to pray on bended knee for my recovery. Detective Mike, who was not particularly religious, was seen kneeling alongside Jean-Baptiste on several occasions.
My personal assistant, Suzy Fleming, carried on for me, following up on all the Camille Jean-Baptiste forensics and responses to our email blasts. A negative outlook was never entertained by my gregarious, pink-Cadillac-driving assistant. Dr. Pierce allowed her to come in and read aloud from my favorite novel to stimulate brain activity. Jack said she'd pull up a chair and begin with the same section of Les Miserables. "Now... where were we? Oh, yes! Jean Valjean is fleeing with Cosette...!" I could easily imagine the animated Suzy and her voice inflections, and the thought of her devotion made me tear up.
I've always known how fortunate I was to be surrounded by such stellar individuals, but this event had taken it to a much deeper level.
"Here's a few cards and things for you, Sal. Governor Preston Jones and his family sent a gift and a recorded message."
You, Jackson, and King are family to us, dearest Sally. Whatever you need. Come and stay with us for as long as you like. Daisy still pines for you, and sleeps with the scarf you left in the guest house. She'll never give it up! Here's a new scarf with a bottle of your favorite perfume.
I inquired after Olivia Henry, whom I still believed to be missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste. "Olivia is fine," Jackson stated, "and she's been asking about you."
He directed my attention to a Braille card. "Here's one from Olivia Henry," Jackson said, guiding my hands. I opened it and read the contents, gliding my hands effortlessly. The message was elating. It said, I'm so grateful to you, Sally, and I'm hoping to thank you in person.
Sensing I'd had my emotional fill, Jackson set the rest aside for later.
I wanted to be apprised on everyone and everything, especially what happened in the street of River Ridge, and the final outcome of Tony Alfanzi. However, Tony's whereabouts were being kept from me until I was up and around, ordered by the good doctor.
**********
Dr. Pierce came to see me at the same time I smelled food wafting down the hallway. I could hardly wait to eat something besides ice chips.
My doctor put me at ease right away. "Personally, I think you are doing great, Sally, considering.... A bullet was lodged in your right carotid artery, causing you to lose massive amounts of blood. If it hadn't been for your husband and Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste, you'd be dead. Both had the presence of mind to apply pressure until the EMTs arrived."
Just hearing this made me reach out towards Jackson.
The doctors's tone changed with a snap of his clipboard. "The good news is, it's high time for a warm shower and a hot meal! You name whatever you want on the re-entry list."
"Re-entry list?"
"Yes, we'll need to go slow."
I inquired in the most serious tone I could muster. "I don't suppose "we" can have Cajun food?"
"Good try.... For tonight, how about brown rice?"
"Okay, that's a start. Could you add the grilled chicken I smell coming through the air vents? Possibly with greens, baked apples, and steamed carrots with a touch of honey?"
"I heard you were a foodie. I'll see what we can do...."
"Doctor, I really need to see my dog...."
"It's my understanding that he's already here, Detective Law. As a matter of fact, I've never had a patient with so many canine friends. The lobby has been spilling over!"
**********
We had a pile on in the bed, with King sandwiched between us. All we were missing was the comfy couch and a giant popcorn. I was certain this was a slice of Heaven.
I couldn't finish my dinner, but I gave it my best effort. I mostly drank the chocolate protein drink which tasted scrumptious. King had pushed the visitor's curfew with his charm, and was eventually escorted out after the nurse's final warning.
I was promised some more visitors tomorrow, and an untethered walk down the hall. I whispered to my husband as he was drifting off.
"Jackson, are you awake?"
"Yes, love."
"Thank you for everything you've done, especially for saving my life!"
**********
Around ten o'clock, I was still wide awake, my mind... racing, regretting the caffeinated chocolate drink. Jackson was sound asleep, sawing logs on the rollaway. I buzzed the night nurse and quietly asked her for my iPad and ear buds. She fluffed my pillows and situated me before turning on a Chris Botti concert. I drifted off to sleep after a few minutes, only to be interrupted by the late night news. I'd thought I would give it a quick listen before turning it off.
They're calling this the trial of the century, and it has it all: murder one, kidnapping, fraud, extortion, money laundering, all tied to a ring of art thieves spanning the globe. The question on the table is this: will we see blind detective, Sally Law, at the trial of Anthony Alfanzi next month? Word has it, she has come out of her coma and might be appearing before the Louisiana Grand Jury. There's a sweet love story in the midst of all of this, as her husband never left her side during the harrowing ordeal. The Lafayette Township Gazette and WKMZ News hope to visit with her personally. Best wishes to you, Blind Girl!
I sat up in bed, erect. "Tony Alfanzi's trial is next month?"
**********
{Southern Parish Prison, Samaritan's Crossing, Louisiana}
Tony Alfanzi paced back and forth in his cubicle of a cell, awaiting his evening meal to appear in the slot. The rattle at the door announced the service--stone cold upon arrival. A man's hand, outstretched with a note, lingered at the opening. The criminal picked it up with the meal, and brought it to the small table near his bunk.
The note asked a question, and from a familiar name. What can I do for you? Eugene.
The tiger smiled his sinister smile until he took a bite of the half-frozen mashed potatoes. "HOOEY!!" Wiping the remnants from his mouth, he mashed the green peas into a fine paste, then scrawled the name of his betrayer on the card. Analiese Irving. 1 mil.
He returned the meal with the card to the opening, clamoring for attention. "Hey, what's with the raunchy meal?"
The same gnarled hand took it away, the metal door slamming shut.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri-County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings' body awaits forensic examination.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes | 1 mil=one million dollars. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Thirteen~
{Southern Parish Prison, Samaritan's Crossing, Louisiana}
Tony Alfanzi paced back and forth in his cubicle of a cell, awaiting his evening meal to appear in the slot. The rattle at the door announced the service--stone cold upon arrival. A man's hand, outstretched with a note, lingered at the opening. The criminal picked it up with the meal, and brought it to the small table near his bunk.
The note asked a question, and from a familiar name. What can I do for you? Eugene.
The tiger smiled his sinister smile until he took a bite of the half-frozen mashed potatoes. "HOOEY!!" Wiping the remnants from his mouth, he mashed the green peas into a fine paste, then scrawled the name of his betrayer on the card. Analiese Irving. 1 mil.
He returned the meal with the card to the opening, clamoring for attention. "Hey, what's with the raunchy meal?"
The same gnarled hand took it away, the metal door slamming shut.
{Chapter Fourteen}
Deep in the backwoods of Louisiana, sits a weatherbeaten, mosquito eaten, dilapidated trapper's cabin near Black Bayou Swamp. Most civilized folks steer clear of the old place, frightened away by the reputation and the plethora of warning signs. It's as rough as it ever was, supposedly haunted; and it's off the grid. Brought your cell phone? How nice. There are no cell towers within a fifty-mile radius.
There are no strip malls, or hair salons.... No Big Box stores or self-serve checkouts. There aren't any caramel macchiatos, nor does anyone know that the term applies to coffee.
A family-run eatery is the only joint in town, if one could call this dot on the map a town. Technically, Black Bayou Creek is a municipality: population 355. One calls into question whether that's the real population or the gator hunting permits sold yesterday.
The humble eatery has gator burgers, and they come as is: charbroiled, and topped with pepper jack cheese, mango and/or molten-hot zulu sauce. There are no substitutions... ever! The sign above the business license reflects the owner's attitude: "This isn't Burger King! It's my way, or the highway!"
The restaurant sits creek-side and closes at dusk... just as red eyes began to appear above the thick layers of blue-green algae; and mosquitoes, roughly the size of a cement mixer, come calling.
Agent Fred Samuels took in the natural ambience as he savored the delicious gator sampler he'd ordered, certain he'd never tasted anything like it. "This is the perfect place for hiding Analiese Irving," he whispered to the FBI's department head on the other end of the line. "A bit, shall we say, rustic. No one will find her in a million years!"
The front door jingled, signaling some scraggly looking trappers searching for warmth and a good meal. Just as the door slapped shut, an enormous hand caught it, opening it again. Agent Samuels studied the man towering above the others and abruptly ended his satellite cell call.
Fred left the booth and re-entered the cafeteria-style line to order meals for Analiese and his partner, waiting back at the cabin. Crossing his arms, he waited patiently as the two groups in front of him filed in. The first group, a threesome, had ordered enough to feed a crowd.
"Name please?
"Haverty, party of three."
"Take a seat over yonder. Your meals will be up directly. Next!"
The tree-tall specimen of a man leaned forward on his bulging knuckles, ordering the same three dinners for himself in his thick Louisiana accent. He handed over a crisp stack of cash as payment, then stuffed the tip jar with the remaining bills.
"Name?"
"Eugene. I would like that to go, please."
**********
I had a wonderful morning, strolling the hospital corridors with Jackson and King. Suzy arrived back in my room, bearing silk pajamas, a robe, and slippers. I felt like a queen as soon as I slid on the outfit.
"You shouldn't spend your money on me like this, Suz. As Tony Alfanzi said-- 'I'm as rich as the Queen of Sheba!'"
"I'd rather work for you than a queen. Besides, my paycheck is ridiculous. You are so good to me, Sal...!"
"I've been to Heaven, Suzy. God sent me back here because it wasn't my time. You've become a sister to me!"
Suzy quieted, and I could tell there was something else stirring. "Suzy, what is up with you? You are altogether transformed!"
She touched my hand to her left ring finger, trying to suppress a giggle.
"Suzy! What is this? I didn't know you were seeing anyone! Spill this instant!"
Right on cue, Detective Mike Lembowsky and Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste clamoured at the door, complete with flowers, cake, and balloons. Wouldn't you know it!
**********
It wasn't long before Dr. Pierce came in to join the party growing in my hospital room.
"How about we move this gathering outside," he suggested. "My patient could use some sun."
The fall day was fine and the sunshine was as healing as the company. It felt like my moment in heaven, especially with the wonderful news from Jean-Baptiste and Suzy Fleming. How appropriate that Suzy was the first one to identify Olivia Henry as Camille Jean-Baptiste; now to be her sister-in-law. I was overwhelmed by what had transpired the last three months.
Miles buried his head in my neck, drenching me in thankful tears. "Thank you, Madam Detective! How can I ever repay you?"
"Be happy, Miles. We all just want you and Suzy to be happy," I assured. "Tell me, did Olivia, I mean... Camille, recognize you?"
"Only a little at first. She's had a traumatic brain injury and remembers bits and pieces of her life. She recognized my voice when I was clearing the area after you were shot. But Samson, oh no, he wouldn't let her be. After you were rushed to the hospital, Samson returned to the oil rig and dug out Camille's blanket. You had kept a clipping of her favorite blanket in your tote from our first day in the storage unit, remember? I handed it to her; and she held it to her cheek. She remembered it, and described the unique pattern in detail. Oh... she's not changed--same beautiful brown hair, laugh, and sweet spirit. I am hopeful now, hopeful in the good God who gives second chances!"
Never had I been so glad to be a detective, and to be alive.
To be continued....
************
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Agent Fred Samuel: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Tri-County Medical Examiner and Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings' body awaits forensic examination.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life. Waiting arraignment in River Ridge.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Fourteen~
The fall day was fine and the sunshine was as healing as the company. It felt like my moment in heaven, especially with the wonderful news from Jean-Baptiste and Suzy Fleming. How appropriate that Suzy was the first one to identify Olivia Henry as Camille Jean-Baptiste; now to be her sister-in-law. I was overwhelmed by what had transpired the last three months.
Miles buried his head in my neck, drenching me in thankful tears. "Thank you, Madam Detective! How can I ever repay you?"
"Be happy, Miles. We all just want you and Suzy to be happy," I assured. "Tell me, did Olivia, I mean... Camille, recognize you?"
"Only a little at first. She's had a traumatic brain injury and remembers bits and pieces of her life. She recognized my voice when I was clearing the area after you were shot. But Samson, oh no, he wouldn't let her be. After you were rushed to the hospital, Samson returned to the oil rig and dug out Camille's blanket. You had kept a clipping of her favorite blanket in your tote from our first day in the storage unit, remember? I handed it to her; and she held it to her cheek. She remembered it, and described the unique pattern in detail. Oh... she's not changed--same beautiful brown hair, laugh, and sweet spirit. I am hopeful now, hopeful in the good God who gives second chances!"
Never had I been so glad to be a detective, and to be alive.
{Chapter Fifteen}
The first cold snap of the year rolled into the deep south, turning the maple trees a brilliant red. The crisp bite in the air didn't seem to discourage the revelers, painters, photographers, and poets. A rare day such as this had the masters summoned to apply their talents, in the streets and parks for all to see. Such vivid displays of color and light must be stroked on the canvas, or captured with a lens. A group of wordsmiths, stretched out among the patchwork of fallen leaves, began their class with paper and pen in hand.
Louisiana's Grand Jury loves the historic setting of Lafayette Township, and the month-long celebration in the town square. As far as I knew, we hadn't failed to make their official trips during autumn memorable.
State Prosecutor, Roy Fitzgerald Owens, was forming a case; and the press had already dubbed it "The Trial of the Century."
Amidst the raffles, home-baked goods, and bobbing for apples was the upcoming trial of Anthony Alfanzi. The Lafayette Township Gazette read:
PRETRIAL BEGINS TODAY AS GRAND JURY ARRIVES
Central to the case is star witness, Analiese Irving, former wife of the accused, Anthony J. Alfanzi. The hunt for Alfanzi took a perilous turn when the trapped man shot one of Louisiana's finest during a hostage situation. We all know her as "The Blind Girl, Detective Sally Law."
Good news as the Grand Jury is meeting with the State Prosecutor to form their case. Credible sources say Detective Law has come out of her coma, and will appear before the jury as early as this week! It looks like justice may be served, and a double helping.
**********
I had a lot coming my way in the days ahead, including the wedding of Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste and Suzy Fleming. In the meantime, I had to get my strength back.
Today, I hit the treadmill with oldies playing on my headset. Jackson returned with a Green Thingy, as he calls it, to reward my efforts. The refreshing concoction of spirulina, kale, protein powder, unfiltered apple juice, and banana tidbits--always makes me feel better.
This time of year has the most wonderful smell, even in a hospital. I thought it may have been my imagination; but the smell of apples, cinnamon, and nutmeg was everywhere. Returning to my room, I realized it was apple pie! My doctor allowed me a piece and it was still warm, served with a single-serve container of vanilla bean ice cream. I pushed aside my lunch and went straight for the pie, without the teensiest bit of guilt.
With the pie came a summons to appear before the Louisiana Grand Jury. Jackson received the same summons with an enclosed note:
Jackson,
We are so glad to hear that Sally is recovering. We will accommodate you both for the same day and time slot, in Louisiana Township, or in River Ridge. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
Gerard Bellingham, Louisiana Grand Jurist
I was overwhelmed by the Grand Jury's kind gesture. I had only a brief encounter with Mr. Alfanzi, which almost ended my life. However, I was fully prepared to tell the Grand Jury all about it.
**********
Analiese Irving stuck out in Black Bayou Creek like a Turkish Angora Cat. Worse was the grotesque food she was offered from the only place around. She had worked herself into a tizzy, wondering if she was going to make it to the trial.
"Where the heck is Fred? He should've been here by now!"
Agent Ken Washburn was oblivious to Analiese, listening to Johnny Cash's concert from Folsom Prison. "Be patient," he said, dismissively.
Just the thought of prison, prison wear, or prison anything, set her off. "Do you mind? Let's not remind me 24/7 why I'm here! This is intolerable!"
"Your Majesty, it's no picnic among the servants at the swamp palace. Besides, Sir Fred will be back any moment with your long-awaited lunch, which will no doubt be hurled into yonder trash."
"It can't happen fast enough!" Analiese let go a sigh and plopped on the couch. "My soap opera is on. Do you mind?"
"Days of Justice?"
"Is there any other daytime show?"
"Not on satellite cable. Here, Ana. Would you like some nachos and a cold one?" Ken scooted closer and adjusted the remote.
"Heck, yeah...! Anything is better than a gator burger!" She couldn't help but notice he'd called her Ana. The only person who had ever called her Ana was Tony.
"Agent Washburn, may I call you Ken?"
"Sure...."
**********
Agent Fred Samuels came to the narrow pass leading to the cabin and slowed. What he saw stretched across the road was a sight to behold; so much so, he took out his satellite phone and snapped a picture. He'd never seen a gator of this magnitude in his life. Fred guessed the prehistoric creature was fifteen feet in length. The beast sat unmoved, sleeping in the sun. He laid on his horn.
The mound of armoured gray flesh barely stirred. One lid opened, revealing an emerald green eye, then closed again. Godzilla's dead to the world.
The agent realized there was no way around the creature except to drive down into the swamp a bit, then approach the cabin from the other side. Shifting the Range Rover into four-wheel drive, he began; but the slick muck was too much. Revving the engine, he sunk deeper. Fred rolled down his window to assess the situation.
An hour later, authorities arrived at the gristly scene, responding to a report from a group of gator trappers--Agent Samuels floating face down in the dark water. The gators had left enough for forensic examination. It looked as though palm fronds had been dragged over the loose dirt to cover the footprints. The cleanup was almost perfect except for one large footprint near the water's edge.
Sheriff Greyson Holt barricaded the area, then divided his deputies in groups of twos.
"Okay, people, let's process this crime scene with extra caution. This area is crawling with alligators, and sundown is but a few hours away. Get a photo of the footprints and use the gelatin lifter to extract the image. I think that will be the best method for the firmer soil."
The Sheriff took a deep breath and dialed his friend, Detective Mike Lembowsky of Lafayette Township PD.
"Hello, Mike! Sheriff Greyson Holt, here. I sure could use your help today. I hate to ask because I know you have a lot going on."
"That's my life at present. Good news is, Sally Law has come out of her coma, and is doing well."
"Oh, Mike... that's such good news! I heard she had come to."
Detective Lembowsky could hear the stress in the Sheriff's voice. "How can I help?"
"I'm in Black Bayou Creek near Pauley's Landing. What I'm looking at is bigger than it appears. We found a man floating in the creek, shot execution style. He's been mauled by the gators. This place is the Vermilion River times ten! I need you and your dogs. Whoever did this is a professional, and on foot. The only tracks coming in or out of here look to be from the dead man's vehicle."
"I'll assemble a team, and be there within the hour," assured the detective. "I have King here with me; my dog, Buddy; and Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste has a bloodhound. Have you identified the man?"
"Not yet. There's no identification; the Range Rover stripped of its phone, license plates, and registration."
"Range Rover? Sounds like government issue, Greyson. The Louisiana FBI is known to drive them. They have them custom fitted for satellite phones. I will call and see if they have any agents in the Black Bayou area."
"Thanks, Mike. I'm putting in a call to Doctor M!"
To be continued....
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, a.k.a., Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes |
Help today with Hurricane Ida clean up and rescue efforts now and in the months ahead.
See: NVOAD at https://www.nvoad.org/current-members/. {American Red Cross gives 90 cents on every dollar directly to aid. Text REDCROSS to 90999 to give $10 to American Red Cross Disaster Relief.} |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Fifteen~
Sheriff Greyson Holt barricaded the area, then divided his deputies in groups of twos. "Okay, people, let's process this crime scene with extra caution. This area is crawling with alligators, and sundown is but a few hours away. Get a photo of the footprints and use the gelatin lifter to extract the image. I think that will be the best method for the firmer soil."
The Sheriff took a deep breath and dialed his friend, Detective Mike Lembowsky of Lafayette Township PD.
"Hello, Mike! Sheriff Greyson Holt, here. I sure could use your help today. I hate to ask because I know you have a lot going on."
"That's my life at present. Good news is, Sally Law has come out of her coma, and is doing well."
"Oh, Mike... that's such good news! I heard she had come to."
Detective Lembowsky could hear the stress in the Sheriff's voice. "How can I help?"
"I'm in Black Bayou Creek near Pauley's Landing. What I'm looking at is bigger than it appears. We found a man floating in the creek, shot execution style. He's been mauled by the gators. This place is the Vermilion River times ten! I need you and your dogs. Whoever did this is a professional, and on foot. The only tracks coming in or out of here look to be from the dead man's vehicle."
"I'll assemble a team, and be there within the hour," assured the detective. "I have King here with me; my dog, Buddy; and Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste has a bloodhound. Have you identified the man?"
"Not yet. There's no identification; the Range Rover stripped of its phone, license plates, and registration."
"Range Rover? Sounds like government issue, Greyson. The Louisiana FBI is known to drive them. They have them custom fitted for satellite phones. I will call and see if they have any agents in the Black Bayou area."
"Thanks, Mike. I'm putting in a call to Doctor M!"
{Chapter Sixteen}
Every available detective on our force had been called away to the most remote area of Louisiana: Black Bayou Creek. A homicide needed forensic examination before the setting sun would make it nearly impossible.
My detective husband wouldn't leave me until he had tightened the security at River Ridge Hospital. This was understandable, and for once, I didn't argue.
Meantime, I finally met Olivia Henry, AKA Camille Jean-Baptiste. What a nice lady, and so much like her brother, Miles. Both Olivia and I were asked to be in the wedding; and with the upcoming nuptials, we had to make a decision on formal attire. Suzy arrived like a whirlwind with fabric swatches and gowns.
Modest as I am, earlobe to toe coverage seemed like the best option. The glamorous Suzy wouldn't hear of it. Neither would Olivia.
I picked the most comfortable fabric, something velvety, annoying the bride-to-be even further. Finally, I played the pity card, pulling back my collar to reveal the long scar on my neck. "A turtleneck...! The dress must have a turtleneck! Everything else is negotiable."
Olivia chimed in. "That sounds so elegant. Let's do it!"
Suzy sighed in resignation. "I'm in. We'll take the fashion leap together!"
"Can we move on to cake tasting? I'm a professional in that department," I bragged. "And... I'm starving!"
**********
Federal Agent Ken Washburn was concerned he hadn't heard from his partner, Fred Samuels. He'd dialed Fred's satellite phone with no answer. The same garbled ringing went on and on. That was all Agent Washburn needed.
"Ana!" Ken called, turning off the power, grabbing her away from the television. He hurriedly dressed her in a bulletproof vest. "Remember what we rehearsed, and what is most important: to stay alive!! Get into the hiding place--now!"
Analiese swallowed hard. "Where's Agent Samuels?"
"I think he's dead...."
Analiese cupped her hands over her mouth to stifle her scream and followed her lone protector to the closet. A feverish unwholesome feeling washed over her. "Someone's coming for us, aren't they?"
"Yes," said the agent, unable to look the trembling woman in the eyes. He secured her in the safe space, and placed a loaded service revolver in her hand. Ken turned to speak, exposing his tender side. "I just know you're going to make it to the trial, Ana. I just know it."
"And you're going to make it too, Agent Washburn! I thought you were coming in here with me?"
"I will call for backup; then I will be parked right outside this door. Remember Plan B, and the escape hatch at the back of the closet. The passage leads to the shed at the rear of the property. From there, the dirt path goes around a pond to the main road. It's actually not too bad... brilliantly put together by Fred Samuels. Here's a flashlight, toilet paper, and bottled water... and my hoodie. It's getting cold outside."
"Toilet paper?"
"I've been blessed with three sisters.... Now hurry, please!"
The steel door clanged shut in finality. Analiese scooted to the wall and wrapped the hooded sweatshirt around herself, then pressed her ear to the air vent. The sound of Ken's cowboy boots echoed as he paced the pine wood floors.
It had been a long time, but she remembered a portion of a Bible verse from her childhood: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou are with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.... "Lord, please forgive me for getting involved with Tony Alfanzi, and protect us. Amen."
Not far away was Eugene, closing in; the cabin in his sights.
**********
It was quiet for a few minutes as Analiese kept her vigil, hoping for help to come. Then it started, World War III. Round after round of gunshots shook the timbers, Ken's Magnum .45 answering back. Analiese wasn't sure if the Feds had arrived, but remained hopeful. Then, all was quiet. Too quiet.
She sat for awhile, waiting for Ken; but he never came. Moving quickly, Analiese knew what she had to do, stifling her sobs. She tucked her long hair into a bun and pulled Ken's hoodie tight around her face. Lifting the hatch, she wiggled through to the underground pass. Traveling the length of a football field, she finally came to the ladder leading to the shed. The loose pine planks rained down sawdust as she moved them aside; lifting herself up to the shed's floor. Other than scurrying field mice, it was clear of threats. Analiese peered out a crack in the door before exiting the shed.
A chill had taken hold, and an eerie fog hung over the emerald water. Giant bullfrogs leapt from the slippery rocks and floating logs. She kept to the yellow and crimson dotted path, only stopping to drink. At no point did she dare to look back.
Not much longer now... the highway must be straight ahead. She should have been tired, but she wasn't--sprinting towards the main road like an olympian. Her only thought was of Ken Washburn, and his faith in her to do the right thing.
Reaching the end of the property, she noticed the barbed wire had already been clipped. Ana crawled through the dangling wires and returned to her pace, the imminent threat of death propelling her on.
Crushing fatigue began to set in, her legs like lead. Ana wasn't sure she was going to make it until the distant sound of sirens lifted her head. Slowing, she began to cry at sight of two black SUV's coming towards her.
"Help--help me!"
Detective Lembowsky looked beyond his dashboard, not believing his eyes. He slowed to a stop and flew from behind the steering wheel. "Ma'am, what are you doing out here? Are you all right?"
"Yes--and no," she gasped. "I am Analiese Irving...."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes |
Art from pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Sixteen~
A chill had taken hold, and an eerie fog hung over the emerald water. Giant bullfrogs leapt from the slippery rocks and floating logs. Analiese kept to the yellow and crimson dotted path, only stopping to drink. At no point did she dare to look back.
Not much longer now... the highway must be straight ahead. She should have been tired, but she wasn't--sprinting towards the main road like an olympian. Her only thought was of Ken Washburn, and his faith in her to do the right thing.
Reaching the end of the property, she noticed the barbed wire had already been clipped. Ana crawled through the dangling wires and returned to her pace, the imminent threat of death propelling her on.
Crushing fatigue began to set in, her legs like lead. Ana wasn't sure she was going to make it until the distant sound of sirens lifted her head. Slowing, she began to cry at the sight of two black SUV's coming towards her.
"Help--help me!"
Detective Lembowsky looked beyond his dashboard, not believing his eyes. He slowed to a stop and flew from behind the steering wheel. "Ma'am, what are you doing out here? Are you all right?"
"Yes--and no," she gasped. "I am Analiese Irving...."
{Chapter Seventeen}
Down in Black Bayou Creek, Sheriff Greyson Holt and his team were working alongside Dr. Marie MacLavish to identify a man shot in the head and mauled by a gator. The swamp had a reputation for unsolvable mysteries after dark, adding to the sheriff's stress.
Breaking away from the crime scene, the lawman walked towards the approaching vehicles, waving them over to firmer soil. "It's hard to believe that such a beautiful autumn day came with tidings such as these," commented Sheriff Holt.
Detective Mike Lembowsky hurried his pleasantries as he extended his hand. The newest information added to the understaffed sheriff's pot of woes.
"Everyone--gather round! We have a growing problem, and hopefully, we're not too late. Special Agent Ken Washburn may have received the same fate as the man lying here. As far as we know, Ken may be holed up in the cabin at the end of this road, fighting for his life. Time is of the essence, and my team and I are headed there now. Sheriff, get on the walkie-talkie and rustle up some help." The lead detective dressed himself in protective gear as two others circled him with dogs. "By the way, Sheriff, this is trial witness, Analiese Irving. Keep her safe until we return."
Sheriff Holt nodded, and redirected his deputies. "Stay closer in until the FBI arrives with backup. The shooter may still be in the area." Staring at his watch in disbelief, he switched to his walkie-talkie to summon help.
"Mayday, Mayday! I need all available law enforcement in the Black Bayou Creek area, along with emergency services. This is Sheriff Greyson Holt, do you read?"
"This is Scarecrow. Copy that, Sheriff. What's your 20?"
"Black Bayou Creek Road near Pauley's Landing. Homicide investigation and forensic examination in progress. Lafayette Township PD has responded and forming a rescue plan for Federal Agent Ken Washburn. Washburn may have life threatening injuries. Additional backup needed."
"10-4. I have notified all badge carrying officers and emergency volunteers in the area.... FBI notified."
"Roger that, Scarecrow. Maintain open communications until you have an ETA."
"Copy."
Dr. Marie MacLavish stepped away from the drama and continued on in her matter-of-fact manner. "You're trembling, Analiese! Let's get you some water and a place to sit. When you're ready, I need you to assist me with something."
Analiese stepped forward. "Anything!"
"It's important to ID the driver of the Range Rover. He's been partially mauled, but his face is intact. Could you look and see?"
"Yes...!" Ana exhaled her angst and followed the medical examiner to the black tarp.
Doctor M looked into her eyes. "What helps me in these situations, is to remember something good and hold it. Once you have it in your mind, take a look. It makes this process more bearable."
"Thanks.... That's good to know." Analiese remembered a game of cards the night before, and Fred losing his prized collection of vintage bottle caps to Ken Washburn.
"Okay, I have it...! Pull back the tarp."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she touched his face, so icy cold and pale now, stained in brownish-red. She looked past his wounds and spoke to his memory, hoping he might hear her. "Thank you for what you did for me... what you've dedicated your life to. Take care up there...."
Analiese drenched herself in tears once again. "There's no doubt....It's Agent Fred Samuels...."
"Thank you, Analiese. I'm going to examine his external wounds now. Help yourself to some chicory blend coffee over there in the green Thermos."
"Glad to be of service," said the shaken Ana. She poured herself a mug of the pungent coffee, noticing some bottled waters nearby. "I'll pass these waters around to the team from behind the yellow tape. By the way, who were the men with the dogs?"
"The best law enforcement around," said Doctor M. "Detective Mike Lembowsky is a longtime friend; Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste is a career detective and marksman, with years of tracking experience. Detective Jackson Law is Sally Law's husband. The largest German Shepherd in the pack is Sally's dog, King."
"I thought I recognized Jackson and King," recalled Analiese.
Sheriff Holt circled back, catching Doctor M's attention. "The FBI's en route now... they've had a blow out. The good news is, help is coming," relayed the sheriff. "ETA fifteen minutes according to the dispatcher."
"Sheriff, Ms. Irving just identified the dead man as Agent Fred Samuels. I'm starting an external autopsy while I have some natural light."
The county sheriff furrowed his brow. "Are you interested in forensics, Ms. Irving?"
"I am now!"
**********
Agent Ken Washburn's left leg was nasty in appearance, warm blood soaking through his jeans. With trembling hands he checked his Magnum's chamber only to see one bullet remaining.
The assassin's groans could be heard, somewhere near the rear of the cabin. Ken rested at the closet door where he had put Analiese Irving, maintaining a view of the main house. The special agent stared at the opening, just in case the devil turned back to finish him off.
Eugene spoke in a low and threatening tone; pulling a hunter's knife from his boot. "Where's the girl?"
Ken responded, "She's long gone from here."
The hired assassin stopped to reload his cheek, tucking the chewing tobacco in just so. Normally, it calmed some of his anger issues. Not today. The afternoon sun shone upon Eugene's enormous frame, casting his image into the hallway. Agent Ken Washburn was waiting with his gun propped on his good leg. The half-hanging wall clock made a loud clicking sound where the music should have been, then somehow managed to chime four bells.
"Last chance, Agent Washburn. Where's Analiese ...?"
"How'd you know my name? Is there a Dirty Assassin's Little Black Book?"
The sound of howling dogs ended the conversation, sending Eugene out the back.
Not long afterwards, the front door kicked opened with an announcement, "Lafayette Township PD!" Filing in, the three officers tread cautiously through the debris. The last room to be cleared held Agent Washburn. King raced to his side and attempted to revive him.
"Well.... Look at you! Hello there, fella." Ken leaned on the great shepherd for support.
Jackson called from the door. "Mike....! Ken's alive, but bleeding profusely."
Jackson's stomach lurched at the horrific sight, reliving his wife's brush with death. He pushed aside his darkest fears and removed King's dog collar, fastening it around the agent's thigh. The last notch was tight enough to restrict the flow of blood.
"Am I going to make it, officer?"
"You are, my brother! Analiese will be ticked if we don't get you helped."
"She's safe? Oh thank God...." The weakened agent let go of his weapon, fading away.
Jean-Baptiste came running in with Samson. "I saw the assassin with my binoculars. He's headed northeast. Shall I pursue?"
"No, let the assassin go. Nothing's more important than our downed friend," said Detective Lembowsky. "We must get Agent Washburn out of here and to an open area to be airlifted. He needs a Medevac."
Without a word, Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste laced Ken Washburn's arms around his neck and lifted him up. The three officers were out the door and down the path in minutes, the dogs sounding the alarm.
**********
The time for Jackson and Miles to return had come and gone. Suzy, Olivia, and I had planned the wedding from start to finish by the time visiting hours had expired. Suzy refused to leave me alone and fell asleep in the recliner.
Jackson crept in around three in the morning, thinking I was asleep.
I startled him when I spoke, "What kept you, my love?"
"A life.... I helped save a man's life."
"You've been busy saving lives? It just so happens I know this blind detective who also owes you her life." I held him close, never wanting to let go.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes |
Art from pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Seventeen~
The time for Jackson and Miles to return had come and gone. Suzy, Olivia, and I had planned the wedding from start to finish by the time visiting hours had expired. Suzy refused to leave me alone and fell asleep in the recliner.
Jackson crept in around three in the morning, thinking I was asleep.
I startled him when I spoke, "What kept you, my love?"
"A life.... I helped save a man's life."
"You've been busy saving lives? It just so happens I know this blind detective who also owes you her life." I held him close, never wanting to let go.
{Chapter Eighteen}
The sound of my nurse's footsteps grew closer and closer, ending at the foot of my bed. She let go of a long sigh at the sight of me and my overnight guests.
Everyone sat up at once as she threw open the blinds with a jerk.
Jackson: "It's my fault... Sally was asleep, and Suzy was in my chair. I was homeless...."
Suzy: "No, it's my fault. I didn't hear a thing until just now," she said, apologetically. "Excuse me, one and all, I really must be going...."
Me: "Now that we have all the confessions out of the way... what's for breakfast?"
The nurse had the upper hand and she knew it. "Not so fast! I think this is what's referred to as... a bust!"
"We are so guilty, and so hungry! So what is it, kind nurse, pancakes or the rack?" I curled my lower lip in false contrition.
"A shot--then the corn cakes. I have three servings assigned to this room, and extra maple syrup for you, Sally."
"Southern-style pancakes! You drive a hard bargain...." I rolled to my side in compliance.
The icy cold stab made me wince. "Ouch!"
********
I enjoyed my super stack of stone-ground corn cakes, doused in maple goodness. Typically, Jackson loves our morning rituals; but today, he was not his usual self. Something was eating him.
I chalked it up to the emotional tanker he had just been through with me, followed by the harrowing rescue of Agent Ken Washburn.
After a few minutes, I put down my fork and reached for his hand.
"Sweetheart, you haven't eaten. Is something wrong?"
"Don't mind me, I'm just tired...."
"No, I think it's deeper. What is it?"
"Honestly, yesterday's events shook me to the core. I shouldn't have left you, Sal. I wasn't ready for it. I may need some time before I reengage in law enforcement."
"Jack... why didn't you say something sooner? You and King are what's most important to me. I love you, not your occupation. Take all the time you need."
"I'll take you anytime, anywhere, Blind Girl." He pushed my hair back from my face and planted a big kiss on me. Amazingly, I felt aligned and energized by my husband's love and honesty.
Lowering his voice, he continued, "Yesterday was a reminder that my priority is here. I won't be leaving again until you are completely well, my love."
**********
A ray of sunshine broke upon the dark waters of Black Bayou Creek, dispelling the early morning shadows. A singular figure stirred the swamp sanctuary as he slogged along, moving in the direction of his family's homestead.
The gentle sound of a waterfall tripping over a rocky ledge offered refreshment. He paused for a moment to gulp down the chilling water, directing the flow to his gunshot wound. His shoulder felt hot to the touch, with a deep ache that stretched down into his heart muscle. "Gotta get some help...." Allowing for one last drink, he repacked his chewing tobacco, discarding the old, not realizing he had left his DNA and link to his flagitious crimes.
**********
The former Army Weapons Specialist regained consciousness only to see the backside of a middle-aged nurse fussing about the room. He spoke, causing her to jump.
"Where am I?"
"Land sakes, Mr. Washburn! You scared me half to death!"
The federal agent assessed his bandaged leg, pulling at the gauze for a look-see.
"Now see here! Does the word 'infection' ring a bell?" Nurse Nancy rolled a first-aid cart next to her crazed patient to get a closer look. "You're lucky. I can fix this before the doctor comes in. I hear him coming now...!"
A kind intruder entered in. "Knock, knock.... Agent Washburn, how are you feeling?"
"Well... hello! I know you. You were one of the three men who saved me. I remember your German Shepherd licking my face."
"King is my wife's dog. My name is Jackson Law."
"Lafayette Township PD, right?"
"That's right.... My wife, Sally, is a patient here. She serves our force as a cold case detective."
"The Blind Girl...! Now I'm making the connection. Where am I exactly?"
"River Ridge General Hospital. They are small, but have a wonderful trauma unit. Isn't that right, Nurse?"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, but not here, Detective."
"I love an honest woman," said Jackson, pulling up a chair. "I'm married to one."
The recovering agent redirected the conversation. "Please tell me about Analiese.... Is she well?"
"As far as I know, she's fine, already in protective custody."
Ken scribbled a question on the hospital pad and slipped it to his new friend. Where is she?
Jackson wrote back: A safe house in the Arkansas Plateau.
To be continued....
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
| Author Notes | https://pixabay.com/vectors/woman-beauty-art-drawing-sketch-6609777/@pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Eighteen~
A kind intruder entered in. "Knock, knock.... Agent Washburn, how are you feeling?"
"Well... hello! I know you. You were one of the three men who saved me. I remember your German Shepherd licking my face."
"King is my wife's dog. My name is Jackson Law."
"Lafayette Township PD, right?"
"That's right.... My wife, Sally, is a patient here. She serves our force as a cold case detective."
"The Blind Girl...! Now I'm making the connection. Where am I exactly?"
"River Ridge General Hospital. They are small, but have a wonderful trauma unit. Isn't that right, Nurse?"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, but not here, Detective."
"I love an honest woman," said Jackson, pulling up a chair. "I'm married to one."
The recovering agent redirected the conversation. "Please tell me about Analiese.... Is she well?"
"As far as I know, she's fine, already in protective custody."
Ken scribbled a question on the hospital pad and slipped it to his new friend. Where is she?
Jackson wrote back: A safe house in the Arkansas Plateau.
{Chapter Nineteen}
After a night of half sleep and whirring thoughts, Dr. Marie MacLavish was back on the road in her mobile crime lab, her husband, Alan, at the wheel. Another full day of investigations was not uncommon for the dedicated Medical Examiner. She was eager to know what lay ahead of her in the fascinating world of DNA.
The terrestrial hour of 5:47 AM displayed on the monitor with the incoming call. "Good morning, Mike. Are we still on for the cabin?"
"I'm already here with Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste. Pray, do you have extra coffee?"
"Plenty! Alan prepared some breakfast sandwiches, which, by the way, smell amazing."
"Have I told you both how freaking awesome you are?"
"A few times...."
"Sheriff Holt will be sorry he missed you both, along with the breakfast. He's partnered with the FBI to secure the swamp perimeter. All the known exit points are staked out in hopes of catching the assassin. Poor Greyson, he and his deputies are maxed out."
"This isn't my first rodeo, detective. I thought of everyone, then added ten more sandwiches and anything else that came to mind."
"Good. I was about to entertain a gator burger as soon as the place down the road opened."
Detective Lembowsky's tone turned more serious. "It's DNA gold here in the trapper's cabin, Marie. Everything's been collected and marked for you. I have blood samples from the main house; sixteen dots exposed by the Luminol. Jean-Baptiste has collected hairs, clothing fibers, and a wad of chewing tobacco still moist with saliva. There's polished white gravel tracked through the cabin, the kind you'd buy in a bag from Home Depot."
"Great work! I'm in the mobile crime lab, and we will be able to process everything right away."
"Marie, as you know, the road is extremely narrow, and the sanctuary of the gator congregation. I'm sending Jean-Baptiste and Samson to escort you in."
"Thanks. We've already sighted a few of the brethren," she reported, nervously. "Tell Jean-Baptiste to hurry...."
**********
Tony Alfanzi was feeling it. Something had gone horribly wrong with the assassination of Analiese, and most assuredly, would lead back to him. As jury trials go, the ex-husband is always the guilty one. The criminal was already sinking into a double murder conviction with zero chance of parole. His over-priced attorney delivered the final blow. "Tony... an insanity plea. Think about it. It's really your only viable option."
Ten thousand an hour, and that's the best he's got? I'm on the wrong side of the law, the criminal mused.
He assessed other options as he paced about his 8 X 10 cell.
If Eugene is dead, there's no one left to connect me to him, or the murder of Agent Samuels and the attempted murder of Agent Washburn. My darling ex-wife and former partner in crime, has now turned state's evidence. Of course she had told all.... Ana the Traitor! His mind turned, and his stomach churned.
The need to silence Eugene had become crystal clear. Cunning cat that he was, he hoped to land on his feet once again. He pressed the red button, calling for the parish prison's warden.
A few minutes later, heavy footsteps clicked in rhythm all the way to his cell, then stopped.
An unfamiliar guard, sixty-something, with coffee-stained teeth, stood before him. "What is it now, Alfanzi? A food complaint?"
"No.... I need to speak to the warden. I have some insider information of the criminal sort."
"Oh.... There's somebody you want to rat out?"
"That's rather blunt, my man; but I see you catch my drift." Tony grabbed his jacket; submitting himself to a pat down. "Lead on.... I can't tell you how nice it will be to stretch my legs and enjoy a smoke."
Without comment, the security guard cuffed him, then led Alfanzi down the white gravel path to the next building. The autumn chill and bejeweled panorama reminded him of the passage of time.
The office of the warden was decorated in Louisiana chic. Overwhelming the room was a gator hide in a ghastly shade of motley gray, stretching from one end of the wall to the other. Alfanzi dropped like a sack of potatoes into an unforgiving chair, unable to tear his eyes away from the creepy display of art.
The security guard announced his departure to the loo, turning in haste.
Warden Zachary Tatum tapped away on his computer for at least a minute before looking up. "Anthony, what can I do for you?"
"First, may I have a smoke, uncuffed? I'm really a mess."
"You will remain in cuffs. Is menthol okay?"
"Anything will do...." He cupped his hands to receive the flame. "Thanks...."
"So... besides mooching a free cigarette, why are you here?"
"I have a really big tip in the murder down Black Bayou way," he said, expelling the vapor. "We have an inside guy here, an employee who has a side job. He offers just about anything a body could want: drugs, porn... murder for hire."
"You don't say.... Got a name?"
"Eugene."
**********
Trial witness Analiese Irving only had two weeks to go--two weeks until her testimony and plea deal with the state prosecutor, hoping the judge would agree to a lesser charge of oil painting inventory schemes, and the channeling of the gallery's cash funds to her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi. Unfortunately linked to her was the double murder of art curator, Duran Gibbons, and innocent bystander, Lonnie Hastings.
Analiese wasn't involved in either of the premeditated murders, and wanted to be free of her ex-husband's crimes and guilty associations, regardless of the cost. The truck carrying Analiese was just the opposite of what she had imagined for herself: cherry red as Rudolph's nose, and chugging along at a laughable 30 miles per hour. The autumnal vista was spectacular to her, with sights of nature and colors in every hue.
Pulling out her bag, she reached for her puffy vest to layer up.
"Are you cold, miss?"
"I'm just fine, Mr. DeWoody. How much farther?
"Call me Russ. We're in Blue Creek right now. At the top of that crest is my home. See all those Christmas trees?"
"I do! How beautiful!"
"It is that! A view of God's country from every angle."
Analiese studied the country gentleman with curious eyes. "So... Are you FBI, United States Marshall, or Sheriff?"
"None of the above. I'm Mayor of Blue Creek, and friend to Jackson and Sally Law."
"You're serious? Are you aware that my narcissistic, murdering, scheming, lying, sorriest excuse of an ex-husband, is after me? He's hired a killing machine to rid me from the earth!"
"Yeah, I heard something like that. You'll be fine here, Mrs. Irving. You have my word."
To be continued....
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene: Arranges contract killings.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes |
A group of alligators is called a congregation.
Luminol is a chemical used to detect blood. Motley gray is an incongruous mixture. https://pixabay.com/vectors/audit-investigation-searching-3411617/@pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Nineteen,
The truck carrying Analiese was just the opposite of what she had imagined for herself: cherry red as Rudolph's nose, and chugging along at a laughable 30 miles per hour. The autumnal vista was spectacular to her, with sights of nature and colors in every hue.
Pulling out her bag, she reached for her puffy vest to layer up.
"Are you cold, miss?"
"I'm just fine, Mr. DeWoody. How much farther?
"Call me Russ. We're in Blue Creek, Arkansas right now. At the top of that crest is my home. See all those Christmas trees?"
"I do! How beautiful!"
"It is that! A view of God's country from every angle."
Analiese studied the country gentleman with curious eyes. "So... Are you FBI, United States Marshall, or Sheriff?"
"None of the above. I'm Mayor of Blue Creek, and friend to Jackson and Sally Law."
"You're serious? Are you aware that my narcissistic, murdering, scheming, lying, sorriest excuse of an ex-husband, is after me? He's hired a killing machine to rid me from the earth!"
"Yeah, I heard something like that. You'll be fine here, Mrs. Irving. You have my word."
**********
{Chapter Twenty}
"DNA is the fingerprint of the 21st Century."
Quote from John Walsh, Father of Adam Walsh, crime victim's activist, investigator, and host of America's Most Wanted.
**********
The time came for my testimony before the Louisiana Grand Jury. The group of twelve jurors had arrived, and were setting up in the conference room of River Ridge General Hospital. Despite our attempts to keep it quiet, the press had parked themselves on the lawn.
I don't know why I was so nervous, seeing as I knew most of the local press, and their mommas; and I had appeared before the twelve member jury multiple times. I thought maybe it was my clothes. I felt lost without my dark gray detective suit and tailored dress shirt. They had suspiciously gone missing.
Prime suspect, Suzy Fleming, was the first to speak up. "The dry cleaners lost it," she said, in a guilty tone.
Honing my investigative skill, I asked, "Have you forgotten what I do for a living?" Visions of my dearly departed suit flashed before my eyes.
She continued, rather unapologetically, "Be back in thirty minutes," she said, disappearing in a blink. The next thing I heard was the purr of her Caddy--a sound I had come to love, along with the person whose fashion advice I'd learned to accept.
After a brief lunch with Jackson and some help with my makeup, the Wizard of Wardrobe returned with a spiced pumpkin latte and a weighty pile of clothing.
Jackson brushed my forehead with a kiss and commented on how pretty I looked, then left the room.
"Okay... I have these," Suzy offered, touching the fabric to my hand. "Everything has a turtleneck or a scarf option. By the way, what is your favorite color?"
"Deep red," I replied. "Pinky red is good too...."
"Fabulous! I have them both." I let Suzy have her way with me without argument. She finished the look with matte lipstick and dangling earrings that felt like fishing lures. Gasping, she added a drum roll with her hands.
"Ta-da! Unbelievable transformation, Sal, if I do say so myself...!"
Jackson returned; and I knew he was pleased, dissolving my ruby lips with kisses.
King arrived close behind Jackson, greeting me with more of the same. Suzy gave me one final blotting as she let me go. "I know you will do great!"
The clicking of cameras came like rapid-fire as soon as Jackson, King, and I made our way into the main hall.
"Blind Girl... how are you feeling? Detective Law, a word please?"
I stopped by to give the press a few seconds. "I am very glad to be among the living and back to work. If you'll excuse me, I'm already late for the Grand Jury."
**********
In Black Bayou Creek, the cabin had been fully examined for DNA evidence by ten o'clock, allowing for Detective Mike Lembowsky and Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste to join in the manhunt. There had been no sightings of the suspect at the openings along the swamp perimeter; yet the day was still young.
After polishing off the remaining breakfast sandwiches and copious amounts of black coffee, the two detectives set out on foot with Samson in front. The autumn air was delightfully cool and invigorating, carrying the scent of loblolly pines.
The long-eared, black-and-brown colored Samson led them along the creek bed to an area above a waterfall before he finally stopped. A family of raccoons scurried up the tree away from the champion hound, keeping the detectives and Samson in view.
Jean-Baptiste knelt and studied the ground, scooping another wad of discarded chewing tobacco into a bag. "Our assassin spent some time here. Good choice for sleep, I must say, and tucked away from the gators. The fresh water coming over this waterfall aided him," Jean-Baptiste observed.
Detective Lembowsky watched the inner-workings of his partner visible upon his face. "Are you thinking he's Louisiana born and bred?"
"Absolument! Born on the bayou, no doubt. He probably knows every water outlet in the seventy square mile area. Call the best researcher you know, and see if anyone around here has a felony conviction or been recently paroled. Our man may be headed home on foot."
"Lieutenant Janelle Harris is the best. I'll call her now...."
Before he could dial, an incoming call came in from Dr. Marie MacLavish.
"Hello, Marie. You have something, don't you?"
"I sure do and it's the mother lode and goes back decades," reported Doctor M. "The DNA was matched to Eugene Izard of Samaritan's Crossing, Louisiana. He's an employee at Southern Parish Prison. There are also landowners in Black Bayou Creek with the last name Izard."
"Where'd you find his DNA?"
"In a rape kit from 1990. NOPD had it from an assault case of a young street performer named Millie Jean. The details of the assault and the location gave me pause, so I ran it through the database again to make sure. It's Camille Jean-Baptiste's DNA."
Detective Lembowsky was overwhelmed, setting aside the information concerning Camille to focus on the task at hand.
"Marie, would it be too much to send the Izards' homestead coordinates? Also, alert the prison's warden right away. The assassin may try returning to work."
"I've already contacted Sheriff Holt," relayed Doctor M. "He will be sending out an APB shortly. The warden is on the list."
"Thanks so much, Marie!"
Detective Lembowsky ended the call and looked at Jean-Baptiste. "The assassin's name is Eugene Izard. He's employed at Southern Parish Prison!"
"I told you he was home grown...."
"There's much more, Miles, more than we could ever imagine. His DNA was matched to a 1990 rape kit taken from a New Orleans street performer--Millie Jean. Doctor M saw the similarities to Camille's case and ran it again. It's your sister...."
The look on the face of Jean-Baptiste said it all. "Our deceased mother's name was Millie Jean-Baptiste, and was very talented musically. I understand the name choice. Tell me, how will I confront my sister? She may not remember any of it!"
"Let's catch this monster first, Miles. Sally and Suzy can handle the delicate female stuff."
Samson stirred his master with his snout, and took off in a trot, this time headed due east. "Oooooooooooooooowhoo!"
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes |
Loblolly pines love the Bayou and thrive in the wetlands. Absolument, French for absolutely. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty,
Detective Lembowsky ended the call and looked at Jean-Baptiste. "The assassin's name is Eugene Izard. He's employed at Southern Parish Prison!"
"I told you he was home grown...."
"There's much more, Miles, more than we could ever imagine. His DNA was matched to a 1990 rape kit taken from a New Orleans street performer--Millie Jean. Doctor M saw the similarities to Camille's case and ran it again. It's your sister...."
The look on the face of Jean-Baptiste said it all. "Our deceased mother's name was Millie Jean-Baptiste, and was very talented musically. I understand the name choice. Tell me, how will I confront my sister? She may not remember any of it!"
"Let's catch this monster first, Miles. Sally and Suzy can handle the delicate female stuff."
Samson stirred his master with his snout, and took off in a trot, this time headed due east. "Oooooooooooooooowhoo!"
{Chapter Twenty-One}
The search for Eugene Izard intensified in an area known for its sugar cane production since the early 1900s.
Samson didn't let up, nor did his master, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, and partner, Detective Mike Lembowsky. A fresh, nitrous smell in the air signaled a change in the soil. The three came to a post-and-rail fence at a plantation's boundary and halted.
"This is it," assured Detective Lembowsky. "The coordinates Doctor M sent are spot on."
A tall man approached, dressed in bib overalls and a white cowboy hat, ordering his hirelings to busy themselves.
Sensing he was a man of rank, and undoubtedly French Cajun, Jean-Baptiste addressed him in his native tongue.
"Bonjour, me suis avec la police du Canton de Lafayette. Parlez-vous anglais?"
"I speak a little English, Inspecteur."
Jean-Baptiste switched to visuals, holding up his satellite phone. "Have you seen this man? His name is Eugene Izard."
"Yes, Inspecteur...." The supervisor pointed to the log cabin at the end of the platted rows of sugar cane and winter wheat. "He is there."
The sound of a helicopter closed in, the whup-whup-whup bending the tall stalks into submission.
"How many in the house?" asked Jean-Baptiste, raising his voice above the roar.
"Only the one," the man replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Inspecteur. The family has gone to Samaritan's Crossing for Saturday evening mass--his father and sister.
The FBI took over the mission, the SWAT Team circling the cabin.
"We have everyone in place, and the area secured, Detective Lembowsky," radioed the head of the tactical team. "Sheriff Holt has barricaded the main road to the family's homestead. Are you and Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste in place?"
"Almost... . Give us five minutes," replied Detective Lembowsky.
"Roger that, Detective."
Remaining low, the two detectives split up. Mike Lembowsky headed to the cabin; Miles and Samson went back to the bayou opening, just in case they had been misinformed.
**********
I was the first to be seated before the Louisiana Grand Jury; Jackson and King were escorted in a few minutes afterwards and seated to my left. State Prosecutor Roy Fitzgerald Owens was to my right, busy setting up a crime board.
I could feel the afternoon sun on my face as coffee was brewing somewhere nearby. The informal setting and creature comforts put me at ease as the jury's foreman began.
"You're looking well, Detective. We are so glad to have you here today. Would you state your full name and job title for the record."
"Sally Jeanne-Marie Law, Lead Detective, Lafayette Township PD, Cold Case Division."
"And your salary, per annum?"
"I do not take a salary, Mr. Foreman. I have everything I need. As you may know, I'm the sole heiress to the Andre Dupree art and diamond fortune. I think that's what got me into this mess with Anthony Alfanzi to begin with, if I may speak freely."
"You may, Detective."
"While on vacation to the gulf shore, I had decided to take on a difficult cold case for my friend, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste. I'd learned that he had spent his entire savings looking for his missing sister, Camille. I had this notion to sell one of my uncle's oil paintings, Calla Lillies, with the hope to buy Miles a house. On our way back to Louisiana Township, my family and I stopped in New Orleans to visit art curator, Duran Gibbons. He offered me $500,000 for the painting to be paid upon delivery. This exceeded my expectations, and I thought at the time this would be a win-win for everyone. I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams the events this painting would set in motion."
Prosecutor Owens interjected, "Sally, do you remember the date of your visit to the gallery?"
"Yes. It was my birthday, May 23rd, and the same night Duran Gibbons disappeared from his gallery office. Jackson can attest to this."
"So what makes you think this was nothing more than a series of coincidences, Detective Law?"
"Respectfully, sir, there are too many coincidences to ignore. Call it synchronicity, a series of unusual occurrences, or Providence--if you will. I know Mr. Alfanzi paid a visit to my precinct, asking for me by name. He'd obviously had his sights on me for some time."
"Thank you, Detective. This has been most helpful. Let's switch to the day you encountered Anthony Alfanzi in River Ridge. We've arranged paper cut outs of six men. Prosecutor Owens, if you will apply the cut outs to the wall over there," the foreman directed.
"King and Jackson will identify him," I offered without hesitation. "Let me know when you are ready, and I will release King on command."
"Jackson, if you will step aside behind the partition and let King go first," requested the foreman.
"Certainly," replied Jackson.
I gave my gentle shepherd a good petting, asking for his best behavior.
"Okay, detective. We are ready for your fine specimen of a dog."
"King, identify the man." I said, pulling off my neck scarf. "Who did this?"
King touched me with his paw, then let out a whine. It took him one minute to identify the photo of Anthony J. Alfanzi. My husband re-entered the session and did the same. "That's Anthony Alfanzi," he said, pointing.
**********
Tony Alfanzi made his way over the newly laid white gravel, relishing the cooling sensation of the menthol cigarette he'd pawned off the warden. The sounds of ordinary life could be heard in the distance: a faint whistle of the five o'clock train, and the town clock chiming five bells in confirmation--things the criminal never thought he would miss in his lifetime.
The old security guard was as quiet as ever, and shuffled along in front of Tony until he came to the double doors of the main lockup. Two men checking off their community service were working together to clean up an overturned meal cart, with buckets, mops, and yellow cones tossed about. "What's this?" questioned the guard.
"What does it look like? Go around to the side door," said the bossiest of the two.
The guard nodded to the men as they turned the corner, giving himself away. Alfanzi was prepared though, clever cat that he was. He'd seen this betrayal coming from the substandard security guard, no doubt hired by the murderous Eugene.
The warden appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Hello, Warden. I think they're planning to do me in. Bet you a pack of smokes the old man has a knife, fresh from the kitchen in his pocket!"
Sure enough, a knife was in the security guard's pants leg, but not of the kitchen variety. "An X-ACTO knife!" the warden exclaimed. "Planning on doing some Christmas crafts?"
The guard and the two orderlies remained silent until the prison police arrived and hauled them away.
The grateful warden threw a pack of menthols into the air; Alfanzi catching it with cuffed hands. "Two a day in the outside smoking area. The attending guard will light you up. Don't abuse my kindness, Tony. Understood?"
Christmas had come early for the prison snitch, or had it?
To be continued....
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes |
The X-ACTCO knife is typically used for crafting except when it's not. It is extremely sharp and sleek.
Translation: Hello, I am with the police of the Canton of Lafayette. Do you speak English? |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-one,
The old security guard was as quiet as ever, and shuffled along in front of Tony until he came to the double doors of the main lockup. Two men checking off their community service were working together to clean up an overturned meal cart, with buckets, mops, and yellow cones tossed about. "What's this?" questioned the guard.
"What does it look like? Go around to the side door," said the bossiest of the two.
The guard nodded to the men as they turned the corner, giving himself away. Alfanzi was prepared though, clever cat that he was. He'd seen this betrayal coming from the substandard security guard, no doubt hired by the murderous Eugene.
The warden appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Hello, Warden. I think they're planning to do me in. Bet you a pack of smokes the old man has a knife, fresh from the kitchen in his pocket!"
Sure enough, a knife was in the security guard's pants leg, but not of the kitchen variety. "An X-ACTO knife!" the warden exclaimed. "Planning on doing some Christmas crafts?"
The guard and the two orderlies remained silent until the prison police arrived and hauled them away.
The grateful warden threw a pack of menthols into the air; Alfanzi catching it with cuffed hands. "Two a day in the outside smoking area. The attending guard will light you up. Don't abuse my kindness, Tony. Understood?"
Christmas had come early for the prison snitch, or had it?
{Chapter Twenty-two}
Opportunist and criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, was enjoying his first smoke in the designated area of the prison yard. The twelve-foot fence surrounding the compound was electrified; and there was no way to breach it, although many had tried. Even so, after meeting with his fancy pants, highly overpayed lawyer, he was seriously considering it.
A storm moved in just as he was crushing a smoldering cigarette with his toe. A bolt of lightning, the sight and sound of which he had never experienced before, struck the prison, snuffing the power for a few minutes before it ramped back up.
"That's it! All I need is a power outage and I'm home free. I'll be on my sailboat headed for Barbados!"
Grandiose as it was, the escape plan wasn't that far-fetched. The wheels began to turn in Alfanzi's mind, for the weather in the coming days was predicted to be foul.
The outside guard came near, unusually chipper, and singing a tune:
Six months ain't no sentence, and a year ain't no time
They got boys down in Angola doin' one year to ninety-nine....
"Your time's up," announced the guard, unlocking the door. The way he sang it, and the dark look in his eyes, sent chills up Alfanzi's spine.
*********
The quiet at the DeWoody's home in Blue Creek Arkansas was interrupted when the land line rang off the wall, waking trial witness Analiese Irving from a deep sleep. "BRRRING...! BRRRING...!"
Who could that be at this early hour? she wondered, throwing off the covers.
A tap at the door announced her host. "Ms. Irving.... It's the FBI. They want to speak with you."
"Thank you, Russ. Give me a sec."
"I'll tell him you're coming..."
Ana laced her arms through the flannel bathrobe as she stumbled out of bed. "Who, exactly, is on the phone?"
"Agent Ken Washburn...."
She raced to the hall, forgetting her slippers. "Ken's on the phone?" The very mention of Ken Washburn sent her heart pounding.
"Yeah... It sounds important," commented Russ, trying to suppress a smile. "The cord will stretch to the back porch if you'd like to take the call outside. I'll bring you some hot coffee when it's brewed. How do you like it?"
"That would be great, Russ. Cream and two sugars, please."
Analiese was out the door and sitting curled up in the chair before she answered, "Ken... is it really you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I see you have another man serving your coffee just the way you like it. Strangely, I miss you...."
"I miss you too, Cowboy. And, thank you. It's to you and Fred that I owe my life.... By the way, how is the case progressing? Have they caught the guy?"
"You know my lips are sealed, Ana. It's our job to keep you safe until the trial is over. Can we change the subject, please?"
"Okay.... How are you?"
"I thought you'd never ask. I'm healing nicely. Three officers from Lafayette Township PD saved my life. They took turns carrying me on their backs for miles. Detective Jackson Law and King stayed with me on the Medevac."
"They're good people, that group...." Analiese's voice began to tremble.
"What is wrong? Too early to talk about the gory details?"
"No.... This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if it weren't for me...!"
"Stop it right now! This is not your fault! You're a brave woman. It takes a strong person to turn around and amend their ways. Your ex is the criminal in this story... he and his hirelings."
The storm door creaked open followed by Russ DeWoody, balancing a box of tissues and a mug of steaming coffee with finesse. Analiese wiped her eyes and smiled at the kind keeper of the castle.
"You're right. I'm feeling stressed. I wish I could see you--to make sure you're alright."
"Why, Ms. Irving! You just lied to me! I know you'd love to see me in this unmodest hospital gown. It's shameless what they make me wear here! My cowboy boots were completely blood-soaked and forever ruined! Five hundred smackers down the drain because of you, princess!" he teased. "Yet, it's so worth it to know you're going to make it to the trial."
Ignoring his wicked sense of humor, she asked the all important question. "Ken, will you be there?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
**********
Things were heating up at the Izard's plantation in Black Bayou Creek. Detective Mike Lembowsky had a gnawing in his gut, as he remembered the wisdom of his years: alone is never good. He circled back around to head towards his partner, Miles Jean-Baptiste, guarding the entrance to the bayou. He turned off his communication with the FBI, and hurried through the rows of sugar cane.
As suspected, the wanted assassin wasn't too far from Jean-Baptiste and Samson, standing behind a willow tree.
Eugene tottered as he took aim at the tall lieutenant, struggling to keep his eyes fixed. He cocked his head, adjusting his scope for the kill.
A queasy feeling washed over him as a hunk of cold metal pressed his cheek. "Drop it, Izard, slow and easy...."
"You won't shoot me, Detective. I'm too valuable to you."
"Won't I?" Detective Lembowsky leaned closer. "You have zero seconds to put the rifle down."
With a deep sigh, the hired assassin gave up his assault weapon as Jean-Baptiste patted him down and stripped the hunting knife from his waist. "Oh... you'll live, alright. Death is too good for you!"
A heated flame appeared in Jean-Baptiste, imagining the hurt the killer had also brought upon his sister. The voice of God within the devout lieutenant stilled his anger.
Detective Lembowsky stepped in, noticing his partner was visibly shaken. "Eugene Izard, you're under arrest for the murder of Agent Fred Samuels, and the attempted murder of Agent Ken Washburn. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your charges and your rights, Mr. Izard?"
Mustering all of his strength, he finally managed to croak out, "Yes, I understand. How'd you find..." At that, Eugene staggered backwards and hit the ground; his black, soulless eyes remained open, frozen on the foreboding sky.
Jean-Baptiste knelt to touch the back of his hand to Eugene's forehead. "He's burning up, Mike!" After a brief examination of his leg, he knew it was septic. "Let's get him to the copter. A thunderhead is brewing."
To be continued...
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes |
The classic New Orleans song "Junco Partner" includes the lines:
Six months ain't no sentence, and a year ain't no time They got boys down in Angola doin' one year to ninety-nine. Photo: https://pixabay.com/photos/smoke-abstract-background-fumes-298243/@pixabay.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-two~
A queasy feeling washed over him as a hunk of cold metal pressed his cheek. "Drop it, Izard, slow and easy...."
"You won't shoot me, Detective. I'm too valuable to you."
"Won't I?" Detective Lembowsky leaned closer. "You have zero seconds to put the rifle down."
With a deep sigh, the hired assassin gave up his assault weapon as Jean-Baptiste patted him down and stripped the hunting knife from his waist. "Oh... you'll live, alright. Death is too good for you!"
A heated flame appeared in Jean-Baptiste, imagining the hurt the killer had also brought upon his sister. The voice of God within the devout lieutenant stilled his anger.
Detective Lembowsky stepped in, noticing his partner was visibly shaken. "Eugene Izard, you're under arrest for the murder of Agent Fred Samuels, and the attempted murder of Agent Ken Washburn. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your charges and your rights, Mr. Izard?"
Mustering all of his strength, he finally managed to croak out, "Yes, I understand. How'd you find..." At that, Eugene staggered backwards and hit the ground; his black, soulless eyes remained open, frozen on the foreboding sky.
Jean-Baptiste knelt to touch the back of his hand to Eugene's forehead. "He's burning up, Mike!" After a brief examination of his leg, he knew it was septic. "Let's get him to the copter. A thunderhead is brewing."
{Chapter Twenty-Three}
Detective Mike Lembowsky arrived back home in Louisiana Township and slept for nine hours straight. His stomach woke him, signaling his need for food.
Opening the fridge, the noxious smell of weeks old tuna salad hit him in the face.
Wong's Chinese was the obvious solution, so he ordered enough for himself and for Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste, last seen sprawled out on his brand new couch. Neither one had eaten a substantial meal in three days, and 'Buddha's Feast' was sure to do it.
Samson trotted into the kitchen with Buddy trailing behind him, both portraying hungry eyes.
"I promise, blue bag dog food and gourmet chew bones as soon as.... No more promises," he said, as he flipped open his computer. "I'm taking care of this right now!" Lightning fast, Detective Mike ordered everything he could think of and pressed 'Express Home Delivery.'
"Twenty minutes until it's here, guys..."
The dogs blinked; returning to the living room to arouse Jean-Baptiste. The sumptuous spread arrived and everyone was fed until they could hold no more. For a moment, life had slowed, cupboards were restocked, and a resemblance of normalcy had returned.
Jean-Baptiste spoke, "I think it would be nice if we all spent Thanksgiving with Jackson and Madame Detective. We have so much to be thankful for."
"Yes, we do, my friend."
Detective Lembowsky's phone chimed from a familiar number. "Yes... okay. Give me twenty minutes. Yes. It will just be me."
"It's Eugene Izard, isn't it?" guessed Jean-Baptiste correctly.
"Yeah. He has a bacterial infection. The doctor doesn't think he's going to make it. I'm going to see if I can get a sworn statement before he kicks the bucket. My gut tells me Izard was hired by Tony Alfanzi to silence his ex-wife, Analiese Irving."
"Are you going to question him about my sister?"
"Absolutely," assured Detective Lembowsky, suiting up. "As we know in law enforcement, death bed confessions are common."
**********
To my great delight, the Louisiana Grand Jury had gathered enough evidence to form a case against Anthony J. Alfanzi in the first-degree murder of art curator, Duran Gibbons, and retired citizen, Lonnie Hastings.
Where I was concerned, the charges of attempted manslaughter with malice were brought against Mr. Alfanzi; for Olivia Henry, the charges against the accused were abduction and kidnapping.
Two separate trials were coming in the new year, beginning with the sensationalized double murder trial before Judge Debra Danforth in Lafayette Township. In this modern-crime Dramatis personae, Tony Alfanzi was the lead actor and star of the show. More alarming, the narcissistic criminal was continuing with his crimes from behind bars as his day in court approached.
**********
After his eyewitness testimony before the Grand Jury, Texas oil-rig driver, "Big D" Dwayne Cooper, arrived at my semi-permanent room at the hospital with roses and a gift wrapped box. He seemed very anxious for me to open what I could already smell: leather boots.
"It seems fitting to replace your boots after barfing on 'em, Detective. I feel so terrible about that day!"
"Nonsense! These boots are soooo nice...! Smell the leather!" I inhaled the tanning oil until I was nearly high. Jackson helped to put them on my feet right away.
"What color are they, Dwayne?" I asked.
"Saddle brown. Kind of a neutral palette."
"You sound like my favorite fashionista, Suzy."
"I probably do. She helped me pick them out, and made sure I'd ordered the right size. As for ladies' fashion, I'm a dunce."
I opened my arms for a hug. "Thank you, Dwayne."
Jackson put the flowers in a plastic pitcher, and asked, "Dwayne, are you staying for the wedding? It's this Saturday."
"You betcha! I'll need to book a place near the interstate though, with my rig and all.... Thanksgiving is this Thursday, ya know, and the local motels and hotels are filling quickly."
"Thanksgiving?" I cried. "Like... this Thursday? How'd it get to be Thanksgiving?" Losing three months to a coma never felt so distressing.
Dwayne tried to mitigate the meltdown. "I will bring a pie if that would help...."
Jackson held my hand and answered for me. "Thanksgiving dinner is at three o'clock in the hospital's atrium. A pie would be lovely, Dwayne."
**********
As Thanksgiving approached, Analiese Irving found it more and more difficult to get out of bed. Her sunny host, and the smell of pumpkin pie baking finally drew her from the covers to the kitchen. "Has the rain subsided?"
"Outside, or in your head?" Russ asked, digging deeper.
"So... it's that obvious? Outside will do for now."
"I was just on the porch. It's clearing, and the temperature has dropped ten degrees," Russ reported.
Analiese rubbed her hands and prowled about. "Is that coffee up for grabs?"
"Sure enough. The coffee cream is in the fridge door. Sweet pea, forgive me, but you look terrible...."
"I don't think it's physical, Russ, it's spiritual," she said, mixing her concoction of caffeinated brew. "Regret is such flying horse pucky! I'm going out to the porch to enjoy the cool weather," she said, letting go of the angst for now. "The majestic beauty here has got to improve this deep funk."
Russ DeWoody knew what to do, and acted quickly. Pressing the Call Retrieve feature on his phone, he redialed the agent's satellite cell.
"Agent Ken Washburn speaking."
"Hello, Agent Washburn. You don't know me, but I have a sad woman in my care who needs cheering up."
"Do you now? We can't allow that! Put her on."
"Analiese.... Ken Washburn's on the phone."
The smile on her face transformed her immediately. "Ken! Happy almost Thanksgiving! I didn't hear the phone ring...."
"Russ called me, and I'm glad. Older folks are so much wiser than we are."
Analiese smiled as she twisted the phone's cord around herself in delight. "I agree. Russ never wastes a moment."
"Neither should we. I love you, beautiful Ana. That's all I know for now or care about."
"I love you, madly! I think I've made myself sick holding it in. Would it be possible to come for Thanksgiving?"
"As a matter of fact, I can!"
"Don't tease me because this is not the time to tease and torment me like you normally do, Ken. Is this for real?"
"Yeah. I have a friend driving me. He should be here any minute. Alabama is it...?"
"You know darn well it's Arkansas!"
The sound of a truck pulling up the steep driveway hurried Analiese to the far side of the porch, Russ stretching the phone's cord to the max. "You're already here, aren't you?"
Ken caught sight of her and smiled. "It just so happens I love a girl with messy hair and who wears flannel pajamas in the afternoon...."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes |
Dramatis personae: The masks of the drama.
Photo: https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/bad-hair-day-royalty-free-image/115415488@gettyimages.com |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Southern Parish Prison~
Tony Alfanzi was on to his third escape plan, hoping the holidays would be the perfect time to escape. Normally, the guards were less attentive after a big turkey spread, and the non-stop football kept them otherwise occupied.
Tony wasn't expecting a visitor on this day, but one was announced through the cell door. For a brief moment, he thought it might have been Analiese.
"There's a gentleman here for you, Alfanzi," announced the guard. "He looks like he just stepped off a yacht."
"Name...?"
"Spencer Whitehead."
"I don't know anyone by that name. Did he say anything else?"
"He said to mention the word: Calla Lillies."
"Coming!"
A few minutes later, the wealthy art buyer sat down and picked up the two-way phone, careful to spray everything with sanitizer.
"Good morning, Tony. Do you know who I am?"
"I'm just starting to make the connection. You're the lucky owner of the original Andre Dupree, Calla Lillies. You must be so thrilled...."
The man bored into Alfanzi with accusing eyes, making him squirm. "I was tickled pink until someone stole it!"
"You think I had something to do with it? You're crazy!" Alfanzi stood to exit for dramatic effect.
"Sit back down, Tony! I just need your help. I've hired three private investigators trying to locate the painting, and my efforts have been nothing but money down the drain. Add, the Federal Bureau of Incompetence has been useless. I thought you might be motivated to think of something, anything at all, seeing as this place may be your permanent address," he said, without batting an eye.
Tony knew he had the upper hand, and a slight chance of escape. Slowly, he signed a message: S-O-S.
Mr. Whitehead smiled. "Well, tonight then, say... 7 PM sharp? I will have my associate with me. Be ready...."
**********
Thanksgiving had new meaning this year for our police force, especially between Jackson and me.
In my heavenly dream, Andre said it wasn't my time and let go of me. A few seconds later, I woke up in the hospital bed with my devoted husband beside me. It had been three long months of waiting, watching, and wondering for him, and those closest to me. Since that time, my husband has been different, in a good way. His love for me is stronger, deeper; and my best interest is his number one concern. I sensed as we came in to this beautiful time of year, that change was afoot. So far, he was open to a complete career change, or possibly taking back his consultant position with the force.
Before our feast, we logged two miles in the streets of River Ridge, the press hurrying along snapping pictures. They about fainted when we stopped and invited them for Thanksgiving dinner. The only stipulation was no cameras or cell phones, and no case talk. A few said yes to our three o'clock dinner invitation.
After showering and a bit of smooching, Jackson helped me into my outfit and styled my hair. All of sudden, I felt a bracelet draped around my wrist with a small charm in the shape of a heart.
"Sal, I'm so thankful to have you alive and well," he said, as he secured the clasp. "I thought I had lost you forever."
**********
We were bursting at the seams in the hospital's atrium. The traditional food and company were so wonderful, I didn't want it to end. The lively party of Miles, Suzy, Olivia, Lyle, Big D, and Mike Lembowsky sat across from us.
Lieutenant Janelle Harris was there, and her husband Dan; and toddler, Danny, kept me entertained. I tried to hold the two-year-old; but he was off chasing King. "Look Mommy, Dwagie!"
Sergeant Dina Ray and her restaurateur husband, Louie, stopped by to wish me well. He fell upon me with hugs, and promises of his heavenly gumbo for perpetuity.
My husband brought the roar to a hush as he lifted his champagne flute. "To love, life, family, and friendships, old and new! Cheers!"
As we continued eating, a group of homeless people came to the door looking for leftovers.
"Bring them in and sit them here," Jackson said. "The more the merrier!"
And so on this Thanksgiving day, an outreach was born among us. Jackson would be the head of this non-profit, powered by cops with heart.
We celebrated while the day lingered, long and good.
**********
Thanksgiving in Blue Creek, Arkansas was small in number, but to Analiese Irving and Ken Washburn, it was picture perfect. Ken felt like family, and was put to work shelling peas with his leg propped up. The agent couldn't be certain, but he believed Ana to be more beautiful than he remembered.
"Are you finished with that?" Analiese asked, reaching for the bowl of pearled peas. Ken touched her arm, and whispered, "Yes, and it's time for a pre-dinner walk. My ride returns tomorrow at 06:00 hours. He's an early bird and company man like me."
Analiese caught the hint. "Russ, we'll be back shortly."
"Stay to the property," reminded Russ. "Between here and the barn should give you some privacy and security."
"I can't travel too far with this leg," Ken reminded. "I may need to lean on Ana."
Russ flashed a smile. "Forty-five minutes until the bird comes out. I've been known to pick at it while it's hot."
The couple walked arm-in-arm until out of eye view. Ken was very quiet, letting his touch and movements do the talking. Pushing back her golden hair with the brush of his hands, he kissed everything on her face, ending with her lips. He breathed in her sweet perfume, not wanting any other setting, or love than this. Ken Washburn knew he couldn't leave so soon, if ever. The career agent had found his home.
**********
At the stroke of midnight, Eugene Izard awoke in his hospital bed. A cold Thanksgiving dinner waited nearby, under the covered plate. A pad, pen, and business card rested on his nightstand, exactly where Detective Lembowsky had left it. He searched for the detective's cell number with blurring eyes and shaking hands. Pressing the buzzer over and over, he eventually worked himself into a panic. "Get detective what's-his-name in here--now!" No one heard his demands except for the strange apparition standing beside the bed.
"Who are you?" Eugene snapped, "and why are you dressed so weird?"
"I'm your eternal ride...."
"Ride? Oh no, not me! Hey man, I was going to write it all down for the detective, I swear! I was even going to find Camille and send her money. Money's not--not a problem."
"Your time's up!"
Dun, Dun, DUN... pant, cough, cough, gasp!
To be continued...
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
{Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'}
| Author Notes | https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/illustration/multiple-exposure-of-woman-enjoying-forest-royalty-free-illustration/524399257 |
By Sally Law
Previously, in Chapter 24~
At the stroke of midnight, Eugene Izard awoke in his hospital bed. A cold Thanksgiving dinner waited nearby, under the covered plate. A pad, pen, and business card rested on his nightstand, exactly where Detective Lembowsky had left it. He searched for the detective's cell number with blurring eyes and shaking hands. Pressing the buzzer over and over, he eventually worked himself into a panic. "Get detective what's-his-name in here--now!" No one heard his demands except for the strange apparition standing beside the bed.
"Who are you?" Eugene snapped, "and why are you dressed so weird?"
"I'm your eternal ride...."
"Ride? Oh no, not me! Hey man, I was going to write it all down for the detective, I swear! I was even going to find Camille and send her money. Money's not--not a problem."
"Your time's up!"
Dun, Dun, DUN... pant, cough, cough, gasp!
**********
{Chapter Twenty-five}
As Thanksgiving quieted down at Southern Parish Prison, the more nervous Tony Alfanzi became. Spencer Whitehead is more than he appears...perhaps a big player in the art world. Once he acquires Calla Lillies, I will lose my leverage. Then again, being locked up in any Louisiana prison is intolerable. Tony exhaled his cigarette and checked the time. I wonder how ol' Spencer is going to get me out of this fortress?
The sound of a diesel engine car motored into the prison compound, and pulled into guest parking, leaving a cloud of white smoke in the air. Could that be my ride? Tony wondered. He drew near to the electrified fence for a look-see. The man appeared to be older, with a comb-over hairstyle, impeccably dressed, and carried a brief under his arm. A doctor, prison inspector, or a highfalutin lawyer, for sure, Tony surmised. The stranger trudged up the white gravel path to the warden's office.
The cool evening air ushered the man inside where he offered his identification and credentials. "Doctor Ziegler here to see the warden."
The guard flipped through the official papers, paying close attention to the signatures. "Last door on your right, Doctor."
The voice of Marie Osmond billowed through the hall, consoling those who had broken the Ten Commandments of eating, yet again. The office door was standing ajar, revealing Warden Zachary Tatum cozied up in a stratolounger, balancing a plate of sugared pie on his paunch.
"Who might you be?" questioned the warden.
"Doctor Edmund Ziegler, Board Certified Psychiatrist for the state. I'm here to transfer Anthony J. Alfanzi to a private institution."
"Please...have a seat, Doctor Ziegler. No day off for you today?"
"There's no rest for servants of the state. As you can see, I have all the necessary paperwork, and Alfanzi's current attorney has signed off on the insanity plea," he said, handing over the official looking file.
"Insanity plea? Well... he is unstable," said the warden, stuffing the last bite of guilty pie in his mouth. "He'd sell out his grandmother for a pack of smokes. I'm not sure if that's insane, or just plain wicked!"
The two men laughed and shared some southern pecan pie and Louisiana college football. Half hour later, Tony sighted the warden coming towards him in the prison yard. "Well, what do ya know, Alfanzi, a change of address for you, at least for now. Come this way."
**********
The classic Volvo driven by the mysterious Doctor Ziegler had Tony on edge. He was beginning to think this wasn't the plan, or perhaps it was the plan for his ultimate demise. Either way, he needed a smoke to calm his nerves.
"Hey, Doc... gotta light?"
"You'll have to wait. Not much farther now. Mr. Whitehead is expecting you."
"So... you are the associate Spencer Whitehead spoke of?"
"I am...."
Tony cracked the rear window, finding it difficult to breathe.
**********
Sunrise on the Arkansas Plateau found trial witness Analiese Irving and Agent Ken Washburn struggling with their goodbyes.
"I don't want to go, Ana, but I must."
"I understand.... Agency stuff calling?"
"No, I'm resigning from the FBI after my medical leave expires."
"Resigning? What will you do?"
"I'm thinking about joining Lafayette Township PD. They are terribly understaffed since the shooting of The Blind Girl. Detective Mike Lembowsky said to name the day."
"Ken, that's awesome!" Ana tried not to cry, but she let loose.
"It's a good thing I have three sisters," Ken said, blotting her tears. "Come here...." He held her for a few minutes, inhaling her scent one last time. "Ana, all I really want is to be yours, and for you to be mine."
"That's all I want too. In the meantime, I'm doing everything in my power to make things right with Fountain Gallery. I have paid back every cent Tony stole from petty cash with interest. I may face more fines, community service, and jail time. Then... we have the sensationalized trial in January. Who knows what slick trick Tony has up his sleeve! What do you see in me, Ken....? What?"
"I see my future...."
**********
Detective Mike Lembowsky was cooling down from his early morning run with the dogs, readying himself for the full day ahead. He had hoped to hear something from Eugene Izard early on before tomorrow's wedding. So far, the lead detective had made no progress with the soulless assassin. More than anything, he wanted justice served for his heinous crimes. A call came in from his friend and colleague, Dr. Marie MacLavish, and held stunning news regarding Izard.
"How was your Thanksgiving, Marie? Did you have a holiday free of crime-solving?"
"It never stops for me; but I was able to enjoy a few hours uninterrupted. Mike, I'm here at the hospital with the body of Eugene Izard. Justice has been served earlier than expected," said the county medical examiner plainly. "He died somewhere between midnight and two o'clock this morning."
"Geez...! All that work for nothing!"
"Let me finish.... He left a signed confession, and told of his verbal agreement with Tony Alfanzi to kill his ex-wife, Analiese Irving. Also, Izard left a sealed envelope for Camille Jean-Baptiste/Olivia Henry. Stranger still, it's addressed to her home in River Ridge."
"You're kidding?"
"No. I wouldn't have believed it unless I was standing here. The stamped letter and confession are still paper clipped to his hospital gown, almost like someone did it for him. I left everything as is...."
"Marie, seal the room. I'll be there in twenty!"
To be continued....
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans; key witness for the state against her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
Doctor Edmund Ziegler: to be determined.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-five,
Detective Mike Lembowsky was cooling down from his early morning run with the dogs, readying himself for the full day ahead. He had hoped to hear something from Eugene Izard early on before tomorrow's wedding. So far, the lead detective had made no progress with the soulless assassin. More than anything, he wanted justice served for his heinous crimes. A call came in from his friend and colleague, Dr. Marie MacLavish, and held stunning news regarding Izard.
"How was your Thanksgiving, Marie? Did you have a holiday free of crime-solving?"
"It never stops for me; but I was able to enjoy a few hours uninterrupted. Mike, I'm here at the hospital with the body of Eugene Izard. Justice has been served earlier than expected," said the county medical examiner plainly. "He died somewhere between midnight and two o'clock this morning."
"Geez...! All that work for nothing!"
"Let me finish.... He left a signed confession, and told of his verbal agreement with Tony Alfanzi to kill his ex-wife, Analiese Irving. Also, Izard left a sealed envelope for Camille Jean-Baptiste/Olivia Henry. Stranger still, it's addressed to her home in River Ridge."
"You're kidding?"
"No. I wouldn't have believed it unless I was standing here. The stamped letter and confession are still paper clipped to his hospital gown, almost like someone did it for him. I left everything as is...."
"Marie, seal the room. I'll be there in twenty!"
**********
{Chapter Twenty-six}
Filtered light shone through the blinds of the hospital room where Dr. Marie MacLavish was conducting an external autopsy on Eugene Izard. Rigor mortis had set in, his body cold to the touch and stiff.
Detective Mike Lembowsky arrived just in time with hot coffee and an extra set of hands.
"Mike... you look exhausted," commented the medical examiner in a concerned tone. "Too much Thanksgiving pie?"
"Not enough pie, and low on staff. After this double shot espresso, and a yes from Ken Washburn, I will be fit as a fiddle."
The detective took a long swig, then set the travel mug aside. "Let's take off his hospital gown so that I can dust the envelope and letter for fingerprints. After that, I will help you with any external evidence that may be remaining."
"Thank you, Mike. I've already checked his body for bruising, swelling, and defensive wounds. Nothing. From my preliminary assessment, it appears Eugene Izard may have died of fright."
"Fright? Were there any visitors yesterday?"
"According to the front desk, you were the only one."
Detective Lembowsky noticed everything on the nightstand was as he left it: the writing pad, business card, and the embossed ink pen from Lafayette Township Police Department.
A rap at the door interrupted the two in their examinations. "The night nurse is leaving, Detective. She has a few minutes to give you her statement.... Single mom, you understand...."
"I do. Tell her I'm coming right now...."
**********
The drive from Blue Creek, Arkansas was a difficult one for Special Agent Ken Washburn. Leaving Analiese was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Picking up his cell phone, he made the return call to Detective Mike Lembowsky.
"Detective, how are you? You're where? Hanging out with dead bodies? Eugene Izard...? Well... I didn't see that coming."
"Don't torment me, Washburn," said the detective. "Yes or no?"
"Yes...! Thank you for the job offer and generous pay, Mike. I should have everything sorted out with the bureau in a week or two."
"That's splendid news, Ken! I can't wait to tell the team! The sooner the better. Tell me, how do you handle dogs?"
"I had a German Shepherd, almost identical to King. He has since passed."
"Well, you have landed smack dab into the land of the dogs, my friend. Although she's blind, Sally Law is the best canine trainer around."
"Do I need to put in a request?"
"How should I say this...? We aren't that formal around here. Consider it done, and a welcome gift from our force."
"Awesome! I think I'm going to fit in very well. I'm on the way home from Arkansas, at present. Touch base soon...."
**********
Off the shore of Port Orleans, Louisiana, two men sat together in silence. The original 1959 Andre Dupree painting was just below, secured in a vaulted chamber of the sailboat. Tony Alfanzi was emboldened on his own vessel, his freedom so close he could taste it. The only thing standing between him and the open sea was Stuart Whitehead and a loaded .45 resting comfortably on his lap.
"I kept my end of the bargain, Tony; now it's your turn," threatened Whitehead. "Where's the painting?"
"I never said I had it, Stu. You assumed that I had taken it," he stated sarcastically.
"A correct assumption, you waste of skin! Last time, where's the painting?"
"Calm down before you pop a blood vessel! You, of all people, should understand the finer things in life. One million dollars, and I will hand it over."
The wealthy art collector rocked the gun upwards and sighed. "Done!"
"Money first.... Here's my off-shore account number. Once I see the transfer, you'll have the painting."
Stuart Whitehead signaled for his associate to come aboard, this time dressed in a faded sweatshirt, jeans, and flip-flops. "Ed, transfer Mr. Alfanzi a mil into his account. We have come to an agreement."
The man formerly known as Doctor Edmund Ziegler, worked his magic. The verification code displayed itself in five minutes according to Tony's request.
"It's done, Mr. Whitehead," announced the hired play-actor.
Tony quickly retrieved the painting from the custom-built safe; elated by his future prospects.
"I hope I never set eyes on you again, Alfanzi," stated Whitehead. "Set your sails and blow southward!"
The three men parted, without so much as a handshake.
**********
Most brides stress about the details of their upcoming wedding: the cake, flowers, weather, and the tricky seating arrangements. A Democrat must never be seated with a Republican; and divorced couples must be as far apart as possible, according to the bridal bloggers.
For those of us at Lafayette Township PD, we were concerned about one thing as the wedding of Miles and Suzy approached: the whereabouts of Tony Alfanzi. He had escaped from the Southern Parish Prison in some kind of paperwork hocus-pocus, vanishing into thin air. Worse, Alfanzi's legal counsel knew nothing of the documents he had supposedly signed, declaring him mentally incompetent and worthy of a transfer.
Detective Lembowsky called an impromptu meeting in my hospital room, along with Suzy, Miles, and Jackson. Something was clearly up.
"Heightened security during the wedding is a must," warned the detective, "really from now until Alfanzi is recaptured and behind bars."
The news was unsettling to all of us, especially the bride. As hoped, she set aside her fears, and took it all in stride.
"This is my life now," Suzy assured. "I may not be a cop, but I might as well be. I can't think of anything I would rather be doing than marrying Miles. After this demanding year, nothing is going to stop us, not even Tony Alfanzi!"
I set aside my fears too, realizing the extraordinary gift I had been given: Suzy and Miles were getting married, and I had lived to be a part.
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons' body is in cold storage awaiting forensic examination.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans; key witness for the state against her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
Doctor Edmund Ziegler: Not who he appears to be.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
By Sally Law
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-six~
The news of Tony Alfanzi's escape was unsettling to all of us, especially the bride. As hoped, she set aside her fears, and took it all in stride.
"This is my life now," Suzy assured. "I may not be a cop, but I might as well be. I can't think of anything I'd rather do than marry Miles. After this demanding year, nothing is going to stop us, not even Tony Alfanzi!"
I set aside my fears too, realizing the extraordinary gift I had been given: Suzy and Miles were getting married, and I had lived to be a part.
{Chapter Twenty-seven}
The wedding day of Miles Jean-Baptiste and Suzy Fleming started in a whirlwind of activity and to-do lists aplenty. The venue had been elegantly decorated by the talented bride, in amber shades of late fall.
I took a few minutes to reflect on my own wedding day, and how blessed I was to have had eyesight. It was much simpler back then, and my $500 budget included the gown I had bought off the sale rack during my lunch break. We couldn't afford a sit down dinner, so we had the reception in the casual atmosphere of the church basement. Thankfully, I found a closet full of treasures down there that had been long forgotten, and silver serve-ware which saved me a bundle.
I bought the cakes from the local grocery store--a traditional vanilla four-layer cake, and a 15x20" chocolate groom's cake. The mixed nuts were from a can; and the punch was a concoction of chilled Tahitian Treat, 7-Up, and a blob of vanilla ice cream floating in the middle.
Yet, the memory of Jackson waiting for me at the altar, his eyes beaming with love, has stayed with me all these years. I wouldn't trade our wedding day for anything.
Today, I could only imagine the looks between Suzy and Miles, and had already admired their sweet devotion.
Suzy had taken the time to make the day as sensory as possible for me, and had ordered boughs of fragrant flowers and hired a string quartet. She had found a disc jockey for the reception, and it just so happened to be our visiting trial witness, Big D, Dwayne Cooper. Yes, we were going to line dance with our favorite Texan.
For the life of me, I couldn't imagine Miles line dancing. My brain rejected the very thought. The Frenchman was the epitome of formality, always addressing me as "Madam Detective." Line dancing? Well, the day was young....
Suzy and Olivia arrived at my hospital room, and whisked me down the street to a beauty shop. Only in Louisiana can you find a full service beauty shop on one side, and a chainsaw repair on the other. 'Bobbi Jo's Salon and Chainsaw Repair' defined our lovely state to a T.
I treated everyone to the deluxe wedding package: wash, cut, style, blow out, and heat styling. Mani-pedis were next, then some much needed time with the makeup artist.
I felt like some kind of frosted confection with my thick mane of white hair piled high on my head and long wispy bangs that annoyed me instantly. I eventually pinned them back with ornate bobby-pins I'd fished from the bottom of my tote bag. I was unable to wear the three-inch heels Suzy suggested for fear of catastrophe, and at 5 foot 10, I didn't require the added height. The new boots from Big D were offered as a welcome substitute.
Around noon, we had a light lunch delivered, and took turns going pee in the world's smallest bathroom. Suzy read jokes from the bathroom humor book, one so old I knew all the punchlines.
At one point, I thought I heard a chainsaw revving, and a few of our groomsmen whooping and hollering.
Suzy climbed on top of a rickety magazine table to peer out the bathroom window while Olivia steadied her. "Yep, it's them alright," the bride reported. "Those boys better stay clean and free of injury!"
Our handsome escort picked us up in style and we headed to the church. Olivia Henry scooted beside me in the limo and thanked me one more time for taking an interest in her disappearance so long ago. "This is so surreal, Sally. I never dreamed to find family again. I thought that door had slammed shut forever. Miles is everything a brother should be."
"He is all that," I agreed. "I'm so glad you're here. Miles's happiness is now complete."
Jackson and Mike Lembowsky led us inside the church, up the stairs and into the prayer room. "It won't be much longer, ladies," announced my husband, suddenly turned wedding coordinator. "The first guests are being seated."
Jackson left me with a kiss and squeeze. "My love, we were here, not long ago...."
"I was thinking about that," I said, "and the ghastly looking red punch!"
"I wasn't looking at the punch, Sal, only you."
{And they married in the sacred place, where two souls become as one, surrounded by the ones who loved them.}
"Miles, will you take Suzanne to be your wife, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"Suzanne, will you take Miles to be your husband, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"I understand we have canine ring bearers. You both may seal your vows with the tokens of your devotion."
"Suzy, with this ring, I thee wed."
"And I, you," voiced the bride. "With this ring, I thee wed."
They blotted each others tears, and kissed before another word was spoken.
"A mystery, and picture of Christ and His church," said the minister in closing. "What God has joined together, let no man separate."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons's body has been autopsied.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings has been autopsied.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans; key witness for the state against her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry. He is recently deceased.
Doctor Edmund Ziegler: Not who he appears to be.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes | So many of my readers have asked me what parts of my novellas are true. The part about my wedding to Jackson described here is completely accurate. We married during his winter break from college in 1975; with a shoestring budget of $500. Not bad considering 550 were in attendance. Many knew we had no money for our honeymoon, and were pressing money in our hands during the reception. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-seven~
{And they married in the sacred place, where two souls become as one, surrounded by the ones who loved them.}
"Miles, will you take Suzanne to be your wife, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"Suzanne, will you take Miles to be your husband, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
"I understand we have canine ring bearers. You both may seal your vows with the tokens of your devotion."
"Suzy, with this ring, I thee wed."
"And I, you," voiced the bride. "With this ring, I thee wed."
They blotted each others tears, and kissed before another word was spoken.
{Chapter Twenty-eight}
Three days of non-stop fun had done me in. I could sense that I was going to have to sit out the line dancing along with King and Jackson. Everyone else was on the dance floor learning the moves.
"Describe Miles to me, Jackson. Is he getting the hang of it?"
"No, not even close.... But he's shed his jacket and loosened his bow tie, and grins like a lovesick fool."
"Did you bring the deed?" I whispered.
"Yes, love. I have it in my tuxedo pocket."
"I hope they like it.... Suzy has had her eye on that blue house for some time."
"They will love it," Jackson assured. "It's a gorgeous piece of real estate."
We gathered our strength after a few bottles of mineral water and headed for the upstairs room. It was time to see the bride and groom to their decorated car, and wish them well.
Jackson handed me the title deed in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Miles Jean-Baptiste, ready and tied in a satin bow.
I breathed out a nervous sigh and entered the bride's room, hoping to have Suzy to myself for a moment.
Sensing my wish had been granted, I slipped the gift onto the dressing table. "Suzy... for you and Miles.... I hope it fits the 'something blue' that I forgot to give you earlier."
I could feel the emotional build up as she untied the bow. "Oh my gosh.... This is just too much!! Oh, Sally...!"
"Jackson and I know you and Miles would like to start a family right away, and it's close enough for us to babysit...."
"It's perfect!"
She hugged and hugged me, and kissed my cheeks and cried. Running out in the hall, she grabbed Jackson and carried on.
I heard Miles join in, and they jumped up and down and danced some more.
Miles entered the room and spoke, "Madam Detective... permission to embrace."
"Certainly," I said, opening my arms. "Oddly, I bought the house before all of this, Miles, waiting for God's direction."
My favorite Frenchman hugged me, soaking me with his tears.
**********
The news of Tony Alfanzi's escape had traveled to Analiese Irving by way of Russ DeWoody, sending her over the edge.
"Was I right to tell you this, Ms. Irving? You've become like a daughter to me. I couldn't pretend I didn't know...."
"Thank you, Russ. You've been so kind. Nothing Tony does surprises me anymore. I was married to him, unfortunately, and know what he's capable of. My trial testimony may be the death of me...."
"Don't talk like that, Analiese! Hang on, you must hang on!"
"I will try...." She hesitated then asked, "Any word from Ken today?"
"Not yet, miss, but I'm sure he'll call. I will leave my cell phone on the kitchen counter before heading to bed."
Analiese's day ended with canned whipped cream shot directly into her mouth. 'If onlys' raced through her thoughts like unwelcome ghosts. Heading off to bed, the solution to her problem was obvious.
She formed a plan to lock up her ex for good, and she knew just how to do it.
Around ten, Russ's snoring echoed down the hall. Gathering her nerve, she tip-toed to the kitchen and removed his satellite cell from the charger, hurrying with cold feet back to her room. She dialed one of Tony's old phone numbers, hoping he'd pick up.
"You've reached Off Shore Boat Tours after hours. Leave your name, number, and a detailed message at the tone...."
"Tony... it's Ana...."
Alfanzi dropped his late-night snacking, lunging for the phone. "Hey, baby cakes! Where are you?"
"Missing you terribly, Tony," Ana lied. "I thought maybe we could meet tomorrow... possibly for dinner or drinks. Ya know, for old times sake...."
"I thought you were in witness protection, Ana. Are you breaking out?"
"You've been misinformed, Tony. I'll meet you at the yacht around eight o'clock."
"I sold the yacht. I will meet you on the pier--slot 62. If I see you with anyone, I will not be able to keep our appointment, my pained regret. Get my drift?"
"I understand.... See you then."
Analiese bolted to the toilet and doubled over.
**********
Feeling better, Ana packed a few things and layered up. By the roaring sound, Russ was still dead to the world and wouldn't hear her leave. She wrote a quick note and attached it to the fridge.
Dear Russ, Thanks for everything. I owe you. I'm borrowing your Harley, helmet, and gloves. I'll return them in a few days. Hopefully, this will end this cat and mouse game and I'll be free. I feel free already. My brand new Lexus coupe is yours, just in case I screw this up. Say a prayer....
Lovingly,
Ana
The night's cold almost turned her back into the warm safe house; but she kept going, the rage inside quite invigorating. Sliding the bolt, she opened the barn door and turned on the low light.
Ana redressed herself for travel, also making sure she had the most recent contacts updated on her cell phone: specifically Ken Washburn and Detective Mike Lembowsky.
She mounted the beast, and went down her mental list: Riding gear on, fork lock off, side stand up, start/stop on. Now in neutral, clutch in to start the engine. "Varoommmm!"
The throaty growl of the Harley was promising of a nice ride. All the gauges appeared satisfactory, and the gas tank was full.
Like riding a bicycle, she heard her daddy say. Only bigger.
Switching on her headlights, she left by way of the logging entrance until she found the main road. "This is it!"
Looking right, she motored into the black.
**********
Ken Washburn couldn't sleep, wondering why Analiese hadn't returned his call. Normally, she picked up on the third ring, regardless of the hour, nimble as she was. Not tonight.
"She's probably lost in a Christmas movie and a giant tub of buttered popcorn!"
Opening the velvet box, Ken looked at the engagement ring once more. The aspiring groom drifted off into a deep sleep with the ring box on his chest until first light.
To be continued....
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother to missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Louisiana FBI.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons's body has been autopsied.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings has been autopsied.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans; key witness for the state against her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry. He is recently deceased.
Doctor Edmund Ziegler: Not who he appears to be.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes | The Yuletide Camellia |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-eight,
Ken Washburn couldn't sleep, wondering why Analiese hadn't returned his call. Normally, she picked up on the third ring, regardless of the hour, nimble as she was. Not tonight.
"She's probably lost in a Christmas movie and a giant tub of buttered popcorn!"
Opening the velvet box, Ken looked at the engagement ring once more. The aspiring groom drifted off into a deep sleep with the ring box on his chest until first light.
{Chapter Twenty-nine}
A sense of satisfaction held me for a long while after the wedding of Miles and Suzy. Their honeymoon was brief, and they were back the following day setting up their new house. Our understaffed force couldn't do without our seasoned lieutenant coming into the holidays, so the couple decided on a spring getaway to Europe.
Meantime, I had decided it was time to go home and re-engage in my role as Lead Detective of the Cold Case Division, and welcome our new captain, Ken Washburn.
Leaving River Ridge General Hospital would be a difficult thing, especially letting go of my doctor, Benjamin Bishop. His care for me had made all the difference, and he'd bent the rules for my husband and King so many times without complaining. I wanted to thank this selfless soul in a way that would be a blessing for years to come.
He entered my room as he usually did, pulling up a rolling chair to my bed. "So... time to go, aye? I can't persuade you to stay a little longer?"
"No, I've overstayed my welcome," I said in jest. "I will hire a physical therapist for in-home care, and promise to keep a lower profile until after the trial."
Doctor Bishop scribbled away as he recorded my vitals. "Well, your blood pressure looks great, and your weight has come up. You need more plant-based protein in your diet, Sally."
"Can do, Doc! Before I go, I'd like to thank you and your staff. I understand, from a most reliable source, you need an MRI." I pulled out a check, and handed it to him. "Will this cover it?"
His voice trembled as his received the gift. "That's a heap of zeros! You're a good person, Detective Law."
"Nothing compared to you, Doctor. There should be enough money there to cover some of the patients' outstanding bills. This time of year is so financially demanding. Please see to Mr. Spencer in 212; Kendra Ferguson in 239; and the Thompson baby in Neonatal. This is strictly anonymous! If The Lafayette Township Gazette finds out...."
"I won't say a word," he assured. "How can I ever thank you?"
"You just did."
**********
Jackson, King, and I arrived home that afternoon. As usual, I kicked off my shoes and threw myself on the comfy couch, diving into a bag of munchies.
"Jack, by the way, where is Ken? I thought he was staying in our guest room?"
"He's out, I think," commented my husband as we shared the family-size bag with King prowling about. "I need to follow up on my voice mail...."
Beep! Jackson, this is Russ DeWoody in Blue Creek, Arkansas. I have a situation here that needs attention. It's Analiese...! She's left on my Harley, and I think she's going to meet up with Tony Alfanzi! I'm frantic with worry. Call me asap!
I swallowed my mouthful as I waited for a plan of action.
Jackson sat, strumming his fingers on the coffee table. "Analiese is going to snare Tony. She's not walking into this alone. I'd bet my life on it."
The phone rang again and Jackson picked up. "Russ, it's okay, don't apologize. Analiese is a grown woman, not your prisoner. If you would, check your phone and see if there were any outgoing calls unfamiliar to you. Okay.... Yes, that does sound suspicious. Off Shore Boat Tours in Port Orleans? And the number? Got it! That may be where Analiese is headed. Thank you, Russ. I'll be in touch."
**********
Within the hour, our living room suddenly became the precinct with Detective Mike Lembowsky and Captain Ken Washburn at the helm. I didn't realize all the players involved in this web of international intrigue and art fraud. One person was tied to the other in the strangest circumstances I could have imagined.
Our newest team member, Ken Wasburn, sat beside me; and I could feel the heat between him and a man who had just entered through the front door: an undercover federal agent from the FBI's Department of Antiquities, Stuart Whitehead. I knew Mr. Whitehead from the art auction, as the buyer of my uncle's painting: Calla Lillies. The undercover officer brought us up to speed on the possible whereabouts of Tony Alfanzi.
"My thanks to Detective Lembowsky," said Agent Whitehead. "Secrecy is vital in this ongoing investigation, and the reason for this meeting today. I have been trying to flush out Alfanzi and his ring of art thieves. He's a smooth operator with connections worldwide. For a million dollars, he recently sold me a copy of the stolen Calla Lillies painting. I suspect Alfanzi is still in New Orleans, and I've been waiting for his next move. My goal, if I may be clear, is to shut him down for good, and get him to stand trial so that justice may be served. The fly in the ointment, ladies and gentlemen, has been Analiese Irving. I fear she has escaped her hiding place, and could send Alfanzi to his grave, depriving us of the bust I have been working on for years."
Ken Washburn stood abruptly and spoke, "I know her, and I'm in a relationship with her. She wouldn't kill Tony. She's leading us to him so that we can send him back to prison as he awaits trial. Second to that, is the ring of art forgers. Let's not forget he's murdered two people and shot our lady detective sitting right here! Alfanzi hired an assassin who killed my partner while attempting to kill me trying to get to Analiese. Forgive me, but forged art is way down the list, Agent Whitehead!" Our new captain paced about with raw emotions he didn't care to hide. "I am sorry, Sally. I hope this doesn't offend you."
"No, on the contrary, Ken. I feel the same," I said in support.
Stuart Whitehead's voice reflected an impatient and condescending tone. "So... you think you know Analiese Irving well enough to discern her motives, Agent Washburn?"
"It's Captain Washburn now--and yes, I do!"
**********
The half-frozen Analiese pulled in for some food and a gas fill-up just south of the Arkansas border. Famished, she decided to grab a breakfast sandwich and hot coffee at the self-checkout. A friendly stranger caught her eye.
"Excuse me, sir. May I borrow your cell phone for just one minute," Analiese entreated. "I need to call my dad. He's alone for the holidays."
Eagerly, the man turned over his cell to the attractive woman without a smidge of hesitation, hoping to share coffee and contacts.
"Here. Take your time," said the stranger. "I'll snag us a gourmet coffee. Carmel Macchiato?"
"That would be great!" Analiese replied, removing her gloves to dial the number.
**********
Back at the meeting, Ken Washburn excused himself to the kitchen and took an incoming call flagged as 'Scam Likely', hoping it was Ana on the other end.
"Captain Washburn...."
"Hi Dad, it's Ana. I'm running a little behind. I had to make an unscheduled stop and seem to have missplaced my cell. A nice man lent me his phone," she said, hoping to be overheard. "Listen pops, I will meet you at your boat around eight tonight. What's the number? Pier 62? Okay, I wrote it down. I'll bring my new boyfriend, Ken. I think he might be a keeper. Gotta go, pops."
Ken finally took a breath as he ended the connection, and called over Detective Lembowsky. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "That was Analiese, speaking in code. It's tonight down on the pier... eight o'clock. Is it just me, or is something amiss with Agent Whitehead? How'd he know about Analiese's escape?"
"I agree, my friend," confided the detective. "By the look on Sally's face, she's thinking the same thing."
"As soon as Whitehead leaves, we're forming our own plan," said Detective Lembowsky. "Call Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste. We need his night vision!"
********
At 7:40 everyone was in place at the pier, with Jean-Baptiste on the scope. Analiese roared into the area at exactly eight o'clock, and circled about looking for a parking spot. Tony sighted her early on from his secluded place. Oh, how he still loved her, and wished things could be different.
Ana flicked her long locks of hair as she strolled in the moonlight with Tony watching her every move. Ken Washburn and Mike Lembowsky were the closest to Tony's yacht, fully armed, and dressed as night fishermen preparing a boat for departure. The stage was set, and Ana was as cool as the evening breeze. Lighting a cigarette, she blew it out and handed it to Tony.
"You're looking really good, Ana," Tony said, receiving the glowing cigarette. "Really good...."
To be continued....
**********
{Main Characters}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant, just married to Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother of missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Former Louisiana FBI, now the captain of Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons's body has been autopsied.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings has been autopsied.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans; key witness for the state against her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars, and recently revealed as an undercover agent for the FBI, Department of Antiquities.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry. He is recently deceased.
Doctor Edmund Ziegler: Not who he appears to be.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and their daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my book, 'Double Blind.'
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Previously, in Chapter Twenty-nine,
At 7:40 everyone was in place at the pier, with Jean-Baptiste on the scope. Analiese roared into the area at exactly eight o'clock, and circled about looking for a parking spot. Tony sighted her early on from his secluded place. Oh, how he still loved her, and wished things could be different.
Ana flicked her long locks of hair as she strolled in the moonlight with Tony watching her every move. Ken Washburn and Mike Lembowsky were the closest to Tony's yacht, fully armed, and dressed as night fishermen preparing a boat for departure. The stage was set, and Ana was as cool as the evening breeze. Lighting a cigarette, she blew it out and handed it to Tony.
"You're looking really good, Ana," Tony said, receiving the glowing cigarette. "Really good...."
{Chapter Thirty ~ The Finale}
A crescent moon reflected off of the gulf shore, waning, casting the pier in a blue fluorescence.
The sky's lamp allowed just enough light to see Tony Alfanzi putting the moves on Analiese Irving. The tense moment was held in check by the newly appointed captain, Ken Washburn; ready and waiting for Analiese's signal. Ken decided to move closer in, throwing a line into the water and cracking open a cold one. He adjusted his earpiece to hear more clearly, impressed by Ana's ability to play Tony like a fiddle.
"Let's go somewhere more private, gorgeous," Tony suggested. "I have some things I'd like to discuss, specifically Calla Lillies."
Analiese leaned against the pier railing, still in complete control. "The night's magical, don't you think? Why don't you bring us some chilled wine and two glasses, and we'll talk."
"How about champagne? I feel like celebrating. It's been so long...."
Tony left, and as soon as his head disappeared from view, Ana signaled for Ken and his team to move in.
Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste maneuvered to get a clear shot; Detective Lembowsky busied himself, clanging about with fishing gear. A few minutes passed without any action from Alfanzi. The mounting tension was almost unbearable.
Things could go either way in this setting, Ken thought. All he saw was his future wife before him, and thought how brave she was--composed and captivating. She looked his way for just a second, and winked. How had I not seen this side of her before? The sound of an incoming watercraft caught his attention. "Does anyone have a lock on this boat? Tell me it's not Whitehead."
"On it," replied Detective Lembowsky. "Looks legit according to my list of boat slip holders."
Tony climbed from below deck with a noticeable change in his demeanor; the absence of the promised champagne was telling.
"Baby, a couple of New Yorkers want to go shark fishing tonight. What do you say? Would you like to come along?"
"Absolutely, not! The only truth in your statement is: New York. You stole Calla Lillies, or own a fabulous fake; and now you're going to command top dollar. Let me guess--The Metropolitan Museum of Art?" The fuming Analiese turned to give Ken the signal, but was stopped in her tracks.
"Aw... sweetheart," crooned Tony, "we could have a fresh start with this money... sail the globe!"
"I doubt you have the original, Tony. You're a sociopathic liar...."
Tony grabbed her around the waist and lowered his voice. "I swear, it's in my vessel down below, stowed in a double-chambered vault. If you'll step aboard now, I can prove it. The meeting's not until nine o'clock."
A creepy feeling swept over her, repulsed by his very touch. "I'm not interested in your schemes, anymore! I'm leaving now, Tony. Don't try to stop me...."
Untangling herself, she looked at him one last time with eyes of pity. "These players, more evil than yourself, they're coming to get you, Tony. Turn yourself in before it's too late!"
"Ana.... Come on...!"
Tony's predicted outcome came sooner than Analiese imagined. By the time she reached the middle of the pier, a tweeting sound tipped her off. "Bomb!!"
She broke into a sprint with Ken in her sights. Four precious seconds passed until an ear-splitting explosion and ball of fire lit up the night sky. Ken leapt to secure her, pulling her into his arms and away from the flaming debris.
Running feet and shouting--sirens and commands--summoned first responders to the site. What remained of the vessel was extinguished in a few minutes with only one casualty: Anthony J. Alfanzi.
"It's over, Ana," Ken whispered between urgent kisses. "Tony's gone...."
**********
A mile from the smoldering wreckage, was Stuart Whitehead; and his sinister partner, Dr. Edmund Ziegler. "Pity Alfanzi escaped from prison, and fell into such bad company, and from New York, no less," said Stuart, laughing. "This is just the beginning, Ed. The Blind Girl is richer than you could possibly imagine! There's plenty more where this came from," he said, unrolling his prized Calla Lillies. "She has a diamond fortune too!"
"Where are the valuables and paintings kept?" Edmund inquired.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I was at her home earlier today, and she has millions in art displayed on her living room walls alone. Millions, I tell you!"
Lifting his binoculars, the dirty federal agent watched the chaos he'd created from afar. "Good work, my friend. How much do I owe you?"
"I would like a cut in the action," replied the sufficiently ruined Doctor of Antiquities. "The Blind Girl's treasure has piqued my interest. I can't imagine the collective worth of fifty-two Andre Dupree oils!"
**********
Realizing she would need her husband's full support with the contents of the package sitting before her, Olivia Henry waited anxiously for him to come home after a twelve-hour shift. She couldn't remember if she'd ever been sent anything by registered mail. The return address in Black Bayou Creek, Louisiana, set her on edge. Could it be from Eugene? she wondered.
Unpleasant memories of Eugene Izard would visit her from time to time, in bits and pieces lodged somewhere in her jagged memory. Still, he was the father of Danielle, and she thought he may have finally found his conscience. At least she had escaped his grasp, and had made it to River Ridge and to Lyle Henry. But... a letter after all these years?
Lyle walked in the door, and immediately read her face. "Olivia... what is it?"
"I'm not sure.... Will you hold my hand, and read the attached letter?"
"Of course, dear. Let me wash up."
The letter was barely legible, penned on hospital stationery. 'I am so sorry' was scratched in uneven lines over and over with no real specifics. A cashier's check was tucked inside, signed by Eugene himself. In the notes, 'For Danielle' was written in a different color ink and by another hand.
"How is this even possible?" Olivia begged. "How did he know my new name? Danielle's given name? Our home address? Didn't you say Eugene died a few weeks ago?"
"I don't have a clue as to how he found you; but the autopsy performed by Dr. MacLavish revealed Eugene's heart attack was prompted by increased levels of adrenaline in his blood. Point being, he died of fright."
"Really? People die of fright?"
"All the time. A guilty conscience is a strange thing," replied Lyle, "especially when death is imminent."
"I'm not sure I can accept this money."
Lyle studied the contents of the letter, trying to make sense of it all. "It says here, the money comes from his father, Eugene Izard, Sr. As a matter of fact, that's who signed the draft."
Olivia softened. "I see.... Perhaps, I should reconsider for Danielle's sake."
"I'd say yes! This would completely pay for Dani's medical school...."
"You're right. We did pray for a miracle, and this certainly qualifies. I'd say this entire year has been a miracle...!"
Lyle lifted the brass instrument from the box and placed it into his wife's hands. "This must be yours, Livvy."
Gasping, she ran her fingers lovingly over her saxophone, one she thought had been pawned years ago. "Oh-- my mother's sax! I don't believe it!"
The fear and dread of Eugene Izard broke inside of Olivia Henry for good that night. Forgiveness flowed; and in it, she found release.
To the Epilogue....
{Main Characters... Take a bow!}
Detective Sally Law, that's me, also known as The Blind Girl, Lead Detective for Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division. I'm also heiress to the Andre Dupree Art Collection and fortune.
Detective Jackson Law: my husband, and a consultant to the force.
King: my guide dog, Super dog, and ace crime-solver.
Detective Lieutenant Mike Lembowsky, Homicide, Lafayette Township Police Department. He also lives next door to us on Main Street in Lafayette Township. Buddy is his German Shepherd pup.
Detective Lieutenant Janelle Harris and her German Shepherd, Vanta.
Suzy Fleming: My personal assistant, just married to Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste.
Detective Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, Lafayette Township Police Department: Cold Case Division; his bloodhound, Samson. He's also the brother of missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry.
Sergeant Dina Ray: Lafayette Township Police Department.
Sheriff Greyson Holt: Sheriff of Frontier Country.
Agent Fred Samuels: Louisiana FBI, deceased.
Agent Ken Washburn: Former Louisiana FBI, now the captain of Lafayette Township Police Department.
Dr. Marie MacLavish: Doctor M is the Tri-County Medical Examiner, and a Forensic Anthropologist; married to Alan.
Roy Fitzgerald Owens: Louisiana State Prosecutor.
Mr. Duran Gibbons: Former curator and owner of The Duran Gibbons Gallery of Fine Art. Mr. Gibbons's body has been autopsied.
Lonnie Hastings: Lafayette Township senior citizen found dead, submerged in his car, along with Duran Gibbons. Mr. Hastings has been autopsied.
Floyd and Boyd Clarkston: Local criminals for hire, now seeking a better life.
Criminal mastermind, Tony Alfanzi, AKA Anthony Fabio, and street name: Tony the Tiger. Likes to work alone unless it suits him to do otherwise. He has recently set his sights on The Blind Girl and her fortune.
Captain Will Moran: New Orleans Police Department.
Analiese Irving: Curator of The Fountain Gallery in New Orleans; key witness for the state against her ex-husband, Anthony J. Alfanzi.
Spencer Whitehead: Buyer of 'Calla Lillies' for three million dollars, and recently revealed as a dirty undercover agent for the FBI, Department of Antiquities. Bad to the core.
Doctor Edmund Ziegler: Evil Doctor of Antiquities and skilled in bomb making.
Dwayne Cooper: "Big D" the Texas Truck driver.
Eugene Izard: Arranges contract killings. DNA has him linked to the sexual assault of Camille Jean-Baptiste, AKA, Olivia Henry. He is recently deceased.
{Louisiana of 1990 and now}
Olivia Smith Henry: Amnesiac and missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste. Has made peace with the biological father of Danielle, Eugene Izard.
Pastor Lyle Henry: Formerly the Pastor of River Ridge Mission Church and the community hostel. He is currently the Sheriff of River Ridge. He lives with his wife Olivia; and daughter, Danielle.
Albert Lee Reynolds: Owner and proprietor of Al's Barbecue and Such; his wife, Shirley.
*****
Cameo appearance by Russ DeWoody from my second book, 'Double Blind.'
| Author Notes | Thank you for reading, everyone. |
By Sally Law
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Thank you for reading my fourth novella in the Blind Girl Series: What The Blind Girl Saw, Double Blind, Murder at Sleepy Hill Lane, and Running Blind. I couldn't have done it without you.
~Epilogue~
The decades-old cold case of missing person, Camille Jean-Baptiste, and a lengthy stay in the quaint town of River Ridge, Louisiana, has forever altered my life. To quote my favorite book: It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. We had everything before us; we had nothing before us.... I might add--we had heaven before us and moments in the fires of hell. Yet, the strength of our closely-knit force, friends old and new, made all the difference.
Who knew what extraordinary times would embroil us in so many things; and oddly, I was the common denominator in all of it. Well... me, and Tony Alfanzi, and his obsession with my inherited art collection. I'd thought I had chosen the wrong career for awhile, after a glimpse of heaven and three months in a coma; but I see things differently now, and sense God's guiding hand.
Ceremoniously, I retired the file after stamping 'Case Solved' on the outside, and removed it from the cold case category. More rewarding was finding Camille Jean-Baptiste as Olivia Henry, a happily married wife and mother. She has caught up with her brother, Miles, and made great strides reclaiming her memory.
After an unusual series of events, Olivia received a letter and monetary gift from Eugene Izard, whom she had wed before knowing his violent character. Their marriage and immediate annulment was never noticed by any of the cold case researchers, as she'd forged part of her mother's name on the wedding certificate. Eugene's death by fright, and deathbed turnaround, remains a mystery.
Tony Alfanzi
This unique cold case, and my desire to sell a piece of my art collection, stirred a well-connected group of criminals in the world of art antiquities, subsequently ending with the murder of Tony Alfanzi. The explosion has rocked our team, and we've realized it's not over until we have each one of them behind bars.
After examining the torched remains of Tony's yacht, and the surrounding areas, our newly reconstructed team of crime-solvers have gathered some solid clues and a possible motive for the bomb.
This We Know...
-The bomb was an improvised explosive device (IED), skillfully constructed, and carried onto the vessel in a sailor's duffle bag.
-It was detonated with a burner phone, and by someone whom we consider to be the bomb maker. Thankfully, Analiese hadn't given in to Tony's scheme and stepped aboard.
-There was a double-chambered vault in the boat's interior, with a Rolex watch, and a thousand dollars in cash stowed inside.
-'Calla Lillies' was nowhere to be found.
-Aware of how the world of crime works, we all agreed that Tony the Tiger had lost all credibility with those greedier than himself; so they killed him.
This I Know...
The pontificating Spencer Whitehead had something to do with Tony's escape from Southern Parish Prision, and the explosion. I'd bet my Roth IRA on it! I felt an uneasiness about him when we first met at The Fountain Gallery's auction last summer. I'd never heard his name until Analiese Irving introduced him as the buyer of Calla Lillies. Typically, it's considered rude not to praise the artist's work in front of family members, especially if the artist is deceased. He was offish, with no obvious appreciation of the masterpiece he'd just purchased. Three million dropped on me like it was nothing! I dismissed him at the time, exhausted from a full day of forensic examinations in the New Orleans heat.
Our new captain has launched an investigation into Mr. Whitehead; but thus far, has come up with nothing concrete. Most alarming, Ken Washburn's efforts were not the first in a long line of concerned former agents from the FBI's Department of Antiquities.
Currently, I have an idea on how to flush out Whitehead and his ring of murdering art thieves. I've promised the Louisiana Historical Society a private showing of my Uncle Andre's first paintings, brought with him from France. Eight of the paintings have WWII significance, as he painted most of them while hiding a family of Jews in a cave near Strasbourg. If this doesn't draw these slimy worms out of the woodwork, nothing will. I plan on donating the proceeds, of course; and if I round up some criminals in the process, how grand! The local papers will be all over this, and most likely the display will get international coverage as well. Analiese said to name the day, and she'd help curate the show.
Tonight, thirty cold case files teeter on my desk at 17 East Main Street in Lafayette Township. Jackson previewed them all, and set three aside for my consideration: a six-year-old boy caught in a custody battle, a new mother suffering from postpartum depression, and a high school athlete--all missing without a trace. Which one will I choose?
Come and see....
| Author Notes |
My favorite book quote is from the Tale of Two Cities. 'Favorite' is a broad term, as there are many books in this category. Art: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/sunset-nature-america-louisiana-4065349/@pixabay.com |
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