Old Black Magic by Jaye Maiman

Author:Jaye Maiman [Maiman, Jaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642470246
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2018-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

None identified for Lisa Rubin, as yet.

Suddenly, the connection among the homicides appeared undeniable. My knees buckled. Lerebon caught me and lowered me into a chair. After nine years, we’d finally caught the scent of Mary Ryan’s murderer.

Ten minutes later, I was sliding back into the passenger side of the taxi, biting my nails. NeVille was looking better and better to me as a suspect. Perhaps his daft, inarticulate manner had been a con, another joke on the stupid investigators who’d missed the blatant clues left behind at each and every murder. A native of New Orleans, he certainly had ample opportunity to learn about voodoo. The only problem was, I hated to think that Sweeney had been right about anything.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Lerebon said, leaning over my shoulder from the back seat.

“Your aunt’s given me a lot to think about.” I needed more information on NeVille. Where he was born. What kind of family life he had. What exposure he might’ve had to voodoo while growing up. The list of basic investigative requirements clicked off in my head. Childhood traumas. Romantic disappointments. Psychiatric history. Criminal records. I’d been, so ready to dismiss Sweeney’s theories that I hadn’t asked the right questions.

The doctor squeezed my shoulder. “You’re exhausted. Now is not the time to think. Do you have any friends in the city?”

I had much better than that. I had K.T. And his words made me yearn for a night spent curled up in her arms. I angled my wrist so that the ambient light from the car next to us shone on my watch. It was close to eleven. At that time, two long days ago, I’d watched K.T. plop down on a stool at the prep table and lustily indulge in a glass of icy milk and an enormous plate of warm bread pudding. Given the tension between us since then, the odds were high I’d find her there tonight. I asked the driver to drop me off at Les Enfants. Lerebon and I shook hands formally. My emotions were stretched too thin for anything else and he appeared to recognize that. At another time, I’d thank him appropriately. For now, I needed K.T.

Despite the hour, the restaurant was bustling. Dinner had metamorphosed into liquor-laced coffees and butter-drenched desserts. One of Winston’s specialities was a soup of coffee laced with vanilla ice cream, Bailey’s and Amaretto. The scent wafted to me from the nearest table.

“How many?” I didn’t recognize the maitre d’ from the other night.

“Not tonight. Too full.”

She didn’t take no for an answer. “Well, luckily you have two stomachs, the one that says I’m full and the other that’s reserved for dessert.”

“No, thanks. I’m here to see K.T. Bellflower. Is she here still?”

Her solicitude kicked up a notch. “Why, I’m not sure. Why don’t we go and see.”

I thrust my arm out to stop her. “I know the way.”

The restaurant was organized around an open kitchen, with a variety of prep stations. To get to the back, you had to pass a porthole near the wood-burning stove.

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