Crescent City Murder Read online

  “Okay, what do you think about the motive for this case? The sample that Mr. Cheval took was not from the corn and marijuana acre and I think he was looking for drift of Dicamba. If that was his premise, why kill him?” Jill asked. “I did some research online, and Dicamba can't be used on marijuana – it kills the plant. So the farmer had nothing to worry about from Mr. Cheval.”

  “Is there some other product that you would use on marijuana that you wouldn't on soybeans?” Heyer asked.

  “Good question, I'll have to do more research. Did you find out what the test results were on the soybean field?”

  “That's kind of weird also. Ms. Fontaine was unable to find a record that our victim submitted a sample for testing,” Briggs said.

  “Yes, but Keith Townsend mentioned that not only had our victim submitted one sample, but he also went back and got another. We know this because Keith volunteered to do it for him. So Ms. Fontaine is saying two samples are missing from the state's database? That's curious.”

  “This is about as strange a murder case as I've ever seen,” Heyer said. “Between the nutmeg poisoning, the monster truck, missing field samples, and now a marijuana field owned by a mysterious person, this feels like something big is swirling around here.”

  Jill nodded and said, “I'm not sure how much more I can do to help. My friend is still working on identifying the corporation, and I'll look for a pesticide or herbicide that's used to benefit marijuana but is bad for soybeans. I don't think that knowledge will get us very far with this case as it won't point to the murderer, but I'll say this. If your suspect could reach in and alter state computers, then you are up against someone who's very powerful.”

  Shortly they said their goodbyes and Jill switched gears and asked Nathan what he wanted to do.

  “I'd like to visit the distillery I'm going to tomorrow to see its current state, then let's take in the music, food, and ambiance of the French Quarter.”

  Chapter 17

  Jill and Nathan found themselves seated at a distillery drinking vodka. Jill couldn't distinguish between a good and bad vodka, but Nathan liked what he tasted. Jill decided to try the absinthe after she got a promise from Nathan that if she started doing anything stupid, that he would take her back to their hotel until she was sober. She watched the bartender pour her drink over a cube of sugar knowing that the pouring experience was part of the aura of absinthe.

  “What's the alcohol content of this drink?” Jill asked.

  “Let me read the bottle,” Nathan said reaching for the bottle on the bar. “74 percent.”

  “Oh. Definitely stop me when I climb up on the bar and try to sing Adele's 'Hello'. My off-key notes will bust the glasses in here.”

  Nathan chuckled and said, “Are you kidding? I'll be applauding you and filming your performance for prosperity.”

  Jill wrinkled her nose and tapped her glass to his and said, “Cheers”.

  They finished their drinks and left to move on to a French restaurant for dinner. They followed that with a visit to a jazz club. Nathan enjoyed jazz and often listened to it while he was designing. Jill on the other hand, was utterly unmoved by jazz but she enjoyed watching people's expressions while they grooved to the music. Jill was doing her slow sweep of the crowd and paused at one face. Hadn't she seen that face before? She was staring at the face of a woman that she had seen elsewhere recently, but where?

  Nathan picked up on her zeroing in on someone. It was like his body was attuned to Jill's brain going on high power to figure something out. He knew she didn't like jazz music, but until a minute ago she'd been having fun scanning the crowd watching others enjoy the music.

  He leaned in and asked, “What's up? Something has caught your attention.”

  “There's a woman over there that I've seen elsewhere tonight. I'm just trying to puzzle where.”

  Nathan followed Jill's gaze to the woman in question. She was seated at the bar, by herself, in conversation with no one.

  He also recognized that he'd seen her before. He looked away and whispered, “I know what you mean. I've seen her before as well.”

  He focused on the music for a while then put his arm around Jill's shoulder and said into her ear, “She was on the street near the distillery, and she had her back to us at the restaurant. Until she turned around just now I didn't recognize that back of a customer in the restaurant. What are the odds that we would find her in all three places we've been tonight?”

  Jill pulled out her smartphone looked up a few things on Google and then replied, “Four-hundred to one. We take the total number of distilleries in the French Quarter, then account for the number of restaurants and music venues. We're being followed. Is she armed?”

  Nathan studied the smooth lines of the woman's clothing, and replied, “I don't know what's in her purse, or if she might have an ankle holster or knife on her body.”

  “I'm going to go talk to her,” Jill said. “I'm sure I won't get any answers, but at least I'll know something more about her.”

  “Want me to do that? I could flirt with her and see what I learn.”

  Jill didn't think it would be that easy but said, “Go ahead and see what you find out.”

  Jill watched him approach the woman with her back turned to them. Her eyes moved to the liquor shelves and she noticed some mirrored glass behind the bottles. She bet the woman was watching them in the mirror. She had to see Nathan's approach. Jill decided she'd let Nathan work his magic without her supervision and instead let her glance roam the remainder of the music lovers. She recognized no other faces, but did come across a man staring at her. She stared back trying to figure out why he was watching her over everyone else in the venue. He faded back into the crowd as he noticed Jill staring and she was too slow thinking of using her phone to capture the image of the people focused on them.

  She returned her gaze to Nathan and guessed he wasn't making much progress based on his body language. He seemed stiff and no longer had his hand on the women's back. He said a few more words to the woman and then returned to Jill.

  “This is a weird night. First, my girlfriend encourages me to go flirt with another woman and then it turns out it's not a woman.”

  A snort burst out of Jill and she said, “Whoops, how could I have been wrong about that?”

  “You? Heck, I was right there with you thinking that was the woman we saw earlier tonight. That is a 'no' on both accounts. He said that he wasn't at the location we were at earlier and he was watching us as he was trying to decide which one of us was more attractive to him. Apparently, he swings either way.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh.”

  “You did tell him that we are in love with each other and not looking for a third party?”

  “Yeah I did, but I must say this was one of my unusual days in my life. I rarely take red-eyes, encounter monster trucks, consult with detectives, watch you drink absinthe, and hit on a man. Maybe this is all a dream, and I'll wake up in my bed in Palisades Valley, California. Pinch me and maybe I'll awaken from this nightmare.”

  Jill smiled at Nathan's comments and leaned over to pat him, “You poor man. Let's look at the day another way. You joined your girlfriend in New Orleans, took a drive in the country, had a chance to practice car maneuverability, chatted with two New Orleans natives, enjoyed walking through the French Quarter, had an excellent nap, got creative ideas for your meeting with a new client, ate a wonderful French meal, and passed the evening enjoying jazz music.”

  “That must be the absinthe talking,” Nathan replied.

  Jill just leaned over to kiss Nathan forgetting the man at the bar and the other gentleman she thought had been watching them earlier. They were tired from their adventurous day. They lounged in their chairs a while longer before departing the jazz club for their hotel. It was early by New Orleans standards, but they were tired and ready to end it. They had a five block uneventful walk back to their hotel.

  Chapter 18

  The nex
t morning Jill found Nathan up at an early hour for him. He'd been thinking of his travels around the French Quarter and Louisiana in terms of his new client's needs. The client wanted to keep some of the old and merge with fresh ideas. Specifically, he no longer wanted association with Disney-like pirates on his labels but instead wanted some other symbol that represented New Orleans. Their previous evening had given Nathan a wealth of ideas that might work to achieve this end and he was sketching them down as fast as he could out of fear they might disappear from his mind. After a quiet breakfast, they parted ways; he to meet with the new client and she to visit the Garden District. She wanted to view the Lafayette Cemetery and one or two historic houses. Overall Jill found cemeteries to be a waste of space. Occasionally they were impressive at getting a point across like all of the white crosses at any military cemetery, or Arlington National Cemetery where Revolutionary War graves were available to view and honor. In visiting Lafayette, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to see other than a lot of graves.

  Just as she was leaving the hotel to make her way towards the cemetery, she got a text from Jo saying she was bored and what was she up to at the moment as she might join her? Jill mentioned the cemetery and Jo said she was game to explore it.

  After arriving at the cemetery from the St. Charles streetcar, Jill waited for Jo to arrive by taxi and they entered the cemetery. And then her imagination took over. Her first thoughts were of the various hurricanes that had struck the city and how rising water level caused some bodies to float away. Where possible, the dead were buried above ground in mausoleums to ensure the safety of the deceased. She thought back to her days as a county coroner and what it had to be like to have well-preserved corpses floating with the newly dead in ravaged waters.

  “Is there anyone famous buried here?” Jo asked.

  “I don’t think so, it might be the oldest cemetery in New Orleans and there are some unique mausoleums here. It's weird to be here - a place of dead bodies when you’ve been in charge of one-hundred dead bodies, just not buried, dead bodies.”

  “I was just thinking how weird it had to be during hurricanes here, when dead bodies would float out of cemeteries. You would have the newly dead floating with the preserved dead. As a pathologist would you instantly recognize that someone was preserved?”

  “That’s a good question. I’d like to think I would quickly recognize the difference because of the skin color and texture, but I’ll admit I’ve never been confronted with that choice.”

  They arrived at a monument dedicated to the volunteer fire department and another for boys without parents.

  “Are they still having funerals here?” Jo asked.

  “Yes,” and they stopped puzzled by a 'for sale' sign on one of the mausoleums.

  “That’s weird. What happens to the bodies already buried there? Why would you sell your family crypt?” Jo asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a cemetery where a filled space was for sale. Let me look that up on google.”

  They stood in front of the sign while Jill read.

  “Okay, there are a variety of reasons for selling the family plot. I guess you move the plaque with the names on it from the front to the sides or back when you sell. So it must happen frequently since there are rules for it. Do you and your kids want to be buried here? Are you thinking of buying it?” Jill asked with a small smile, pretty sure that she could guess Jo’s thoughts on funeral arrangements.

  “I can think of few things that are a bigger waste of money than being buried like this. My kids know to have me cremated and scatter my ashes on the Fox River bike trail so I’ll have lots of company from bicyclists. How about you? Are you thinking of buying?”

  “Hell no. My final testament states to have me cremated and I’d love to have my ashes sprinkled on the Burn Out ski trail at Northstar, but it will take a skier to carry out that wish for me. So I’ll need to know a younger skier when I die at 103. I do like this cemetery though, I can just imagine the dead talking to each other and partying after dark when the public leaves.”

  “Seriously, your imagination is just plain weird considering you’re a forensic pathologist and have spent more time around the dead than just about anyone else other than a mortician. Where to next?”

  “I thought we'd walk through the Garden District and stare at the big southern mansions. There’s one open to raise funds for the Opera Guild so we could learn about southern mansions.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  They were in the back corner of the cemetery and they saw dark clouds overhead so Jill paused to look at the weather report to see if they were about to get drenched. She had an umbrella, but if it was about to pour, then they’d have to cut short their tour.

  They felt a shower of rain hit them, but then they quickly realized it was mortar dust from a nearby mausoleum hitting them. They both opened their mouths to say something while staring at the statue of a Madonna holding a child, then they saw another puff of dust ping off the statue. They both made a grab for each other as they ducked behind another crypt.

  “Dammit, who is shooting at you, Jill?”

  Jill thought of asking her how she knew the shot was intended for her, but she knew Jo was right.

  “Probably the same person who tried to scare Nathan and I with a monster truck.”

  “A monster truck?” Jo whispered trying to see where the gun was.

  “It’s a long story involving a three million dollar crop of marijuana,” Jill whispered back trying to see where the shots were coming from and guessing where she and Jo should run. She dialed 9-1-1 and informed the operator that an active shooter was in the cemetery. Jill and Jo conferred on where to go next, deciding they would run toward a nearby mausoleum as it looked like they could hide behind it and slowly make their way out of the cemetery. Again they were hit by dust, but it didn't feel as though any bullets had come close to them.

  “Where do you think the shots are coming from?” Jo asked.

  “It feels like someone is outside of the cemetery on a rooftop. Let's stay low and make our way to the entrance. Maybe another visitor is being shot at and not us.”

  Over the loud sound of approaching sirens Jo said, “You don't really believe that! You're spiking my bullshit meter.”

  Jill just smiled at her as they heard the arrival of the police squad cars outside the cemetery.

  An hour later, they had their answer. The only gunshot damage to the cemetery monuments was in the area where Jill and Jo had been standing and indeed the crime scene team thought the shooting had occurred from a nearby rooftop of a vacant home undergoing restoration. The shooter was long gone at this point and the question was what to do next.

  “I need to be back at my seminar in about ninety minutes. Let's grab a bite to eat across the street – maybe we'll luck out and they'll seat us without a reservation, I've heard it's one of the best restaurants in New Orleans.”

  They were brimming over with luck that day as they secured a table for lunch and since they had twenty-five cent martinis on the lunch menu, they were soon toasting their luck that day. Jo had the Caribbean curried shrimp while Jill ordered the wildflower honey glazed gulf fish. They also ordered dessert knowing that since they were in one of the finest restaurants in Louisiana, they should try the creole cheesecake and the spiced peach and bourbon gateau.

  “I was fed up with helping you with cases while we were in Scotland. Mostly I think because I'd wanted a relaxing vacation and I was mourning Nick's death. Now I've come around to a new way of thinking.”

  “What's that?” Jill asked fully aware that she thought she might be losing Jo's help with future cases.

  “We really do good work as a team and there's always a victim left behind that our work brings solace for. I should have seen that way back with our second case. Henrik has turned into such a nice friend and we wouldn't have met him or have helped him reach peace over the death of his wife. In this case, we have a mother and a seven-year old
boy who will find peace when we find the reason for your victim's murder. It's honorable work and I'm humbled that my knowledge of accounting can help people around the world. We're helping people where it matters – in their hearts.”

  This was such a surprising and unusual speech for Jo that it brought tears to Jill's eyes and she jumped up and walked around the table to give her friend a hug whispering, “Thank you.”

  Then they snapped apart recognizing the awkwardness of the moment, both subtlety wiping tears while reaching forward to click their martini glasses together. The remainder of their lunch passed without high emotion and they made plans to join together for dinner that evening. It was such a heavy lunch that Jo worried she would fall asleep in her seminar and Jill felt a compulsion to walk. Instead Jo and Jill took a taxi back to Jo's hotel. She watched out the back window to make sure no one followed them and she planned to walk from Jo's hotel to her own.

  Chapter 19

  When she arrived back at the hotel, Nathan hadn't returned yet, so she sat down and called the detectives explaining the shooting at the cemetery.

  “Are you okay Jill? None of the bullets hit you right?” said Detective Briggs.

  “No I'm fine. I had a friend with me and she got a little dust in her contact lenses. The shooter nailed the marble close by, but didn't hit us. I don't know if the shooter meant to hit us or scare us – he certainly succeeded in scaring us. I'd bet your crime scene guys have more information on that. They believe the shooter was on the roof of a home across the street that was unoccupied. I expect they'll be calling you as we mentioned that we were working with you on a case.”

  “Yeah, while we've been talking, they reached Heyer on her cell and she's talking to them now.”

  “Good, I wasn't sure they believed me when I said I was working with you guys on a case.”