Mardi Gras Gris Gris Read online

  Mardi Gras Gris-Gris

  Now that I’d calmed down, the idea of keeping up with the investigation entered my mind. I could be an impartial observer. After all, I’m not related to this victim. There’s a good reason for me to get involved.

  Staying informed about the procedure for this murder investigation could aid me in creating a realistic plot for the mystery novel I have tried for several years to get published. A year ago, my second short story appeared in Mystery and Intrigue magazine which did provide encouragement as far as my writing career was concerned and even a few dollars. Maybe, just maybe…

  What am I thinking? God, I must be a masochist. Don’t go there. What an insane notion. I can’t stop visualizing scenes from Anne’s murder. Why did I believe this would erase all traces of those memories simply because I didn’t have a personal connection this time?

  Mardi Gras Gris-Gris

  A. C. Mason

  A Wings ePress, Inc.

  Mystery Novel

  Edited by: Jeanne Smith

  Copy Edited by: Leslie Hodges

  Senior Editor: Jeanne Smith

  Executive Editor: Marilyn Kapp

  Cover Artist: Trisha FitzGerald

  All rights reserved

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Wings ePress Books

  Copyright © 2013 by Arlene Messa

  ISBN 978-1-61309-151-7

  Published by Wings ePress, Inc.

  Published In the United States Of America

  Wings ePress Inc.

  3000 N. Rock Road

  Newton, KS 67114

  Dedication

  To my family and friends who have supported me in my writing endeavors.

  One

  Cypress Lake, Louisiana

  February 16

  A horn blared and two twerps of a siren sounded from the fire truck, a signal the Mystic Krewe of Helios parade had come to an end. A lone street sweeper followed to clear the streets of broken beads, other discarded throws, and more important, any poop left by the horses belonging to the Allemand Parish Mounted Posse. Some of the revelers on the opposite side of the street started strolling off on their way back to homes or vehicles.

  I inhaled the delectable aroma of jambalaya steaming in a huge black iron pot under a canopy behind Lucky Jack’s Café. Laughter, upbeat voices and the celebration of carnival were just what I needed to raise my spirits.

  The long ordeal for me and my twin brother was finally over. Dealing with a couple of killers and the slow court system had taken a toll. Justice took sixteen and a half years to officially vindicate Steven and convict his wife’s killer. The voice of my neighbor, Rachel Marchand, broke into my thoughts.

  “No matter how old I get, I always enjoy Mardi Gras.” She removed a multitude of colored beads from around her neck and stuffed them into a plastic grocery bag.

  “What’s with all this talk about getting old?” I teased.

  Rachel laughed and pointed to her salt-and-pepper hair. “Susan, I’m not exactly a spring chicken.”

  “Age is only a frame of mind.”

  “So true.” She surveyed the area with her gaze. “This day couldn’t have been better. The morning started out a little chilly, but at least the sun’s shining. And to think you didn’t want to come today.”

  “I know. I know.” I slipped an array of beads from around my neck and placed them in my own bag. “I’m glad I came. Too bad the parade didn’t last longer.”

  “All good things must come to an end,” Rachel said with a joking tone.

  Her remark turned out to be prophetic and no joking matter. A man wearing a full-face rubber mask staggered out from behind the fire truck and directly in front of the street sweeper.

  I stared at the man. My brain didn’t quite register what my eyes observed. Did I actually see an object protruding from his chest? No, he’s in costume. Or else I’ve been out in the sun too long.

  “Crazy fool,” Rachel muttered. “Is he drunk?”

  In the back of my mind, I thought I’d seen a second man wearing a short black mask some distance behind the man who ran into the street. I checked again, but didn’t see another person wearing a mask. Confused, I returned my gaze to the man staggering across the street and tried to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of me.

  The street sweeper swerved and came to a screeching halt, but not before the side of the vehicle clipped the man and knocked him to the pavement face first. Rachel and several men in the crowd rushed over to where he lay. I took a few wary steps closer. Even from this distance, I could tell the man was dead.

  Pete Blanchard, one of the men at the scene, stooped beside the crumpled body. “Damn, that’s Teddy Berthelot,” he declared, looking back at Rachel, his dark eyes wide. “I recognize that fancy Rolex watch of his and those classy duds.” With his heavy Cajun accent, his that’s came out like dat’s and those became dose. He placed his index and third fingers on the man’s neck. “He’s gone.”

  Dazed, I watched the event like a movie. Another picture flashed through my mind—the night more than a decade ago when I discovered a body. The only difference this time, Teddy Berthelot wasn’t related to me. Unbelievable! Here I am right smack in the middle of a murder scene for the second time in my life.

  A trickle of blood seeped out from under the victim. All that blood couldn’t possibly be the result of the slight clip from the street sweeper. In addition, his body didn’t seem to be lying flat on the ground as if an object was stuck beneath him. Maybe I did see something. Of course there could be a stack of carnival debris under him.

  I may have been in a state of shock, but I knew what was about to happen was a crime scene ‘no-no’. Pete and another man started to turn the body over.

  I wanted to yell at them to stop, but Rachel beat me to it.

  Too late! My heart skipped a beat. A collective gasp rose from the crowd of rubberneckers. A knife handle with a small white bag dangling from it protruded from Teddy’s chest. The grotesque rubber mask added to the horrific scene and made it seem more like Halloween than Mardi Gras. A wave of nausea came over me.

  Rachel keyed in a number on her cell. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “You need to get over here ASAP. Teddy Berthelot’s been killed. I mean murdered.”

  I assumed the phone call was to Rachel’s husband, the parish sheriff. I wanted to call my own husband, but I remained frozen to the spot, my mind reeling back and forth from lucid to incoherent and back again.

  The body of Teddy Berthelot drew my attention once more. Curious spectators closed in on the scene. The public was always fascinated by tragedy. Despite my past experiences, the sight gripped me. Drawn in by some unknown force, I moved still closer to the body.

  At the same time, a nervous-looking Pete Blanchard moved a few steps away from the body. “That li’l sack is like one of them gris-gris bags them people down the bayou make if you want a spell cast on somebody. They give me the creeps.” He swiped his hand over his face as if the action would make this disturbing scene disappear. “Jake Meir at the funeral home is gonna have some unusual business today.”

  Rachel grimaced. “The coroner too, but first, law enforcement needs to check out the scene to make sure no evidence is lost.” She took control of the situation. “Get
the crowd back away from him. Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

  “Will do.” Pete motioned for assistance from two twenty-something guys sporting Mardi Gras t-shirts and LSU baseball caps. The three men began pushing the onlookers back from the body.

  Feeling light-headed, I wanted to get away from there. Yet this devastating reminder of the pain and suffering human beings inflict on one another drew me in and kept me fixated on the body.

  A feeling of being watched came over me. I looked up from the body and surveyed the row of people, all concentrating on the victim… except one. A dark-haired man wearing a black t-shirt captured my attention. His intense gaze seemed to bore straight through me. I broke eye contact with him quickly.

  A moment later Danny Marchand the Allemand Parish Sheriff, a couple of EMTs and a deputy arrived on the scene in their respective vehicles with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

  At six-four, Danny towered over almost everyone in town except maybe a few members of the high school basketball team. He and the other responders pushed their way through the by-standers toward the fallen man.

  My husband Jim reached the scene minutes behind them in his Cypress Lake police unit. He exited his car and rushed over to me. I felt calmer in his arms, but I was still rattled over a scene I hoped never to witness again. The reality of the situation came crashing down on me in a full scale assault.

  “This can’t be happening. Not again,” I said almost in a whisper. “Murder seems to follow me around. I thought once we moved out of New Orleans to this rural parish, I wouldn’t be subjected to all this. ” My voice quivered and my legs felt as wobbly as a bowl of gelatin.

  “Take it easy, baby,” Jim said, smoothing my hair with his hand. “Granted you didn’t need to witness this, but Teddy Berthelot doesn’t have anything to do with you. This could have happened a block away.”

  I glared at him. “But this wasn’t supposed to happen in Cypress Lake. Thank God the kids weren’t here to see what happened.”

  Jim didn’t respond. Instead he turned to Rachel who had just walked up to us. “Are you all right?”

  She waved off his concern. “Oh, I’m fine, a little shaken, but otherwise okay.”

  “Good.” Jim ushered me over to his police car and ordered me to be seated inside.

  Rachel followed behind us. “I’ll stay with her,” she offered, opening the door of the vehicle.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he said. “I need to find out what went down over there.”

  I feared I wouldn’t make it to the car. Snapshots of this bloody scene alternated with images of my sister-in-law’s body and raced through my mind. My legs felt like rubber bands, but I tried to steel myself. I can’t fall apart. I simply can’t.

  Jim started to walk away, but did a double-take and returned to my side. I must’ve looked as shaky as I felt.

  Rachel gave me another look and appeared concerned. “On second thought, I’ll just take you back home.”

  Jim appeared relieved. “Good idea. Danny and I will get statements from you two at home later.” He kissed me and headed through the crowd in the direction of the crime scene.

  I walked with Rachel to her car in silence. Rachel’s periodic glances at me were embarrassing to say the least. I’m the wife of the chief of police and should be able to handle this type of situation like Rachel did and not fall apart.

  The five minute ride home also proved to be a mostly silent drive until Rachel turned onto Cypress Avenue, the main street in our subdivision.

  I heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  Rachel slowed the car to a crawl and stared at me with surprise. “For what? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I messed up your Mardi Gras celebration with my dramatics.”

  “You did nothing of the kind. If you want someone to blame, try whoever murdered Teddy for ruining our good day and certainly destroying his. And his family’s.”

  I lowered my eyes for a short moment. “You’re right. It was pretty selfish of me not to consider the trauma for his family. I figured after all these years I could handle an event like this.”

  Rachel braked to a stop. “Any traumatic event like murder can take a long time to get over, especially after going through a similar one of your own. Believe me, I know all about it from personal experience.” The words came out quite intensely.

  During the six plus years I had known her I’d never heard such an emotion in her voice. Judging from her tone and the way I felt at the moment, now was not the time to get into a discussion about another painful event.

  She placed her hand on my arm. “Dear, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong or to make you feel guilty. Murders are always traumatic whether you witness them or not, but especially if the victim is someone you know personally. And even if you’re barely acquainted with them or they’re complete strangers, to watch them die still hurts.”

  “Yes, it certainly does.”

  Rachel continued the drive down to the end of the avenue and turned the corner into her driveway.

  After gathering the carnival loot from the car, I started across the yard toward my home next door.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in and have a cup of coffee at my house first?” Rachel called out. “Maybe wind down a little before you deal with the twins?”

  Before I could answer, a car pulling up in my driveway diverted my attention. I waved to the woman in the driver’s seat of the SUV. My two six year olds, a boy and a girl, emerged from the rear passenger door and bounded across the lawn toward me.

  Thank goodness those children’s activities were on the opposite side of town. Matthew and Caroline had spent the previous night with friends and had attended a children’s Mardi Gras event with them and their kids.

  “I guess having a relaxing cup of coffee isn’t an option now,” Rachel said.

  I gave her a faint smile. “Thanks for the offer anyway, but I need to hold my kids—even the four-legged one. I need to wrap my arms around live beings.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable,” she said. “But I must warn you. Cypress Lake is a small town and the investigation has just begun. Because we both chose to love and marry men in law enforcement, you and I will be subjected to a lot of details guaranteed to bring back bad memories of our respective ordeals.”

  One of these days I’m going to learn I’m not the only person who has had trauma in life. Apparently Rachel experienced a similar incident to mine at some point in her life. Maybe at a time in the future she’ll confide in me.

  Being exposed to this scene was something I didn’t need. It would be seven years this coming May since Jim and I moved from New Orleans to Cypress Lake when he accepted the position of chief of police. I thought the memories of my ordeal would at least start to fade after the trials were over. A few of those recollections automatically came flooding back to me. Get over it. Another incident or word would trigger the images again. For the sake of the twins I managed to hold them at bay at present.

  Two

  A cool breeze blew in from the lake, scattering a pile of paper cups, candy wrappers and other carnival trash across Lakeside Drive with a muted rattle.

  Jim squatted beside the body of Teddy Berthelot. Why did you have to get yourself killed on my watch? The sting of guilt nipped at him. He chided himself for his irreverent thought. This was part of the job he signed up for, to speak for the victim, not blame him for his own murder especially for selfish motives. But Susan’s angry words still rang in his ears. This wasn’t supposed to happen in Cypress Lake. “What the hell did you get yourself into, Mister Berthelot?” he asked out loud.

  “Too bad he can’t answer,” Danny said, studying the body.

  “No joke.” He looked up at the sheriff. “What do you think?”

  Danny shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve been in law enforcement for going on thirty-five years now and never come across this before. I mean a victim with a gris-gris bag atta
ched. Looks like our suspect could be an expert with a hunting knife.”

  “Of course that narrows the search down to only three quarters of the parish.” Jim stood and surveyed the lingering crowd of onlookers who had been pushed back to an area beyond the yellow crime scene tape.

  Most of the bystanders remained solemn as they watched the officers. One man attracted Jim’s attention. Carl Hymel seemed to be the only one in the crowd who appeared pleased with the scene. Hymel immediately changed his expression to serious when he caught Jim watching him.

  During his six-year tenure as chief of police, Jim witnessed Hymel run for just about every political office in the parish and never win any of them. After each election, the man vocally attributed his defeats to Teddy Berthelot and David Edwards, another wealthy parish resident, accusing them of paying off the voters. If the stories rang true, and even if they were simply paranoia on Hymel’s part, he might have good reason to be happy about Berthelot’s demise. He made a mental note to ask Danny for more information about the man.

  Despite the sixty degree temperature and fairly low humidity, the air felt heavy to Jim. If he believed in such things, he might even call the atmosphere ominous. For some strange reason, he sensed this ritualistic killing would not be an isolated incident. The gris-gris bag element gave the scene a supernatural aura. He canned those thoughts in a hurry.

  “Yeah, it’s going to be interesting.” Danny directed his gaze to Teddy Berthelot’s body. “I know this falls in your jurisdiction since the homicide occurred within the city limits, but if you need any help at all, I’ll be happy to assist you.”

  “Thanks, I’ve dealt with urban crime for a long time, but after a six year reprieve, this caught me by surprise. I grew up around here, yet some folks think of me as an outsider. I’d be glad to have you work with me on the case.” He eyed him with anticipation. As an NOPD detective, he’d worked many successful murder investigations, but as a fairly new chief of police in this small town, solving this case put an extra burden on him to succeed.