Play Dead

Chapter 23

"Is this your store's logo?"

The scruffy-haired kid behind the cash register examined the CD in Elise's hand. "Yep."

Next to her, Gould spread more bagged CDs on the glass countertop. "Notice anything strange about these?" he asked.

The kid looked them over. "This some kind of test?"

"Look closely," Gould insisted.

The kid fiddled with the hair on his chin. "Well… oh, hey. I get it. They're all suicides! Is that it?"

"That's it," Elise said. "But more important, they all have your sticker on them. Would you or any other employee possibly recall someone making a purchase of this sort a year and a half ago?"

"Wow." The kid scratched his head. "I have a hard time remembering what happened last week."

Another guy wandered out of the back room. He was heavily pierced and wearing spiked leather wristbands.

"Hey, Tobias. Come 'ere." The kid at the counter looked at the detectives. "Toby's the manager. He's worked here a long time." Then back over his shoulder, he shouted, "Take a look at these, will you?"

The sleepy-looking kid took his time getting there.

The clerk pointed to the CDs. "You remember anybody buying these?"

"Who're you?" The manager eyed Elise and Gould with suspicion.

They flashed their badges and introduced themselves. That settled him down a little.

"I don't remember. Sorry."

"Would it be possible for you to locate a record of the sales?" Elise asked. "Especially if they were all purchased at the same time?"

"Idunno…"

"Maybe in your tax files?" Gould prodded. "I'm sure you keep cash register tapes."

"You're talking about a lot of stuff," he said doubtfully. "And it could take a long time."

"It's extremely important," Elise told him.

"I'll try, but I don't know…"

Gould presented the photos of Winslow, Turello, and Harrison.

Negative.

Elise handed the manager her card. "Call if you find anything or happen to think of something you forgot." She thanked them both for their time. Then she and Gould headed for the parking lot, passing a small playground on the way. In the center of the basketball court, three girls jumped rope.

Lady in a black veil Babies in the bed Kissed them on the forehead Now they're both dead.

"What a serendipitous segue." Gould looked at her over the top of the car. "Isn't it about time for our meeting with the priestess of death?"

Elise had been able to schedule another appointment with Strata Luna, this one at the woman's home. When she'd asked if her partner could come along, Strata Luna had surprisingly agreed.

The detectives hopped in the car and drove to the Victorian District, where they parked on the street and approached the mansion on foot. Elise announced their arrival to the intercom and they were buzzed in, the black iron gate swinging wide.

The partners stepped through the opening, broken shells crunching underfoot.

"Where no man has gone before," Gould said.

"Person," Elise reminded him. "They upgraded Star Trek: TNG to the politically correct person"

"That was because the vainglorious James T. Kirk was of the martini-swilling, swinger generation, where women were conquests and trophies," Gould added.

"With large breasts."

"A requisite."

They were conversing with neither giving much attention to what they were saying, both taking in the lush surroundings as they paused side by side at the start of a straight drive lined with live oaks, their sweeping branches creating a curved canopy. At the end of the lane stood a pink antebellum mansion trimmed in black.

Breathtaking.

Behind them the gate clicked shut.

"An ominous sound," Gould muttered.

The ever-present Enrique met Elise and Gould at the door. He gave them a serene smile, then led them down a dark hallway to a secluded courtyard, where they found Strata Luna sitting in the shade at a round cafe table. She wore her signature long black dress minus hat, veil, and gloves.

Elise introduced her partner.

Neither seemed terribly impressed with the other.

"I hope you like hot tea," Strata Luna said, introduction over and Gould's importance quickly minimized. She seemed to be tolerating him because he was with Elise.

A china teapot had been placed on a tray in the center of the table. Beside it was a plate of shortbread cookies, sugar cubes with a pair of tiny silver tongs, and cream.

They were being treated like visitors, not detectives, something that made Elise feel slightly uncomfortable. She shot a glance at Gould, wondering if he was thinking what she was thinking-that this had a tinge of a Mad Hatter's tea party.

He missed her glance, distracted as he looked beyond the courtyard to a massive, ornate fountain.

The fountain where Strata Luna's daughter had drowned?

In the center was a statue of a young girl. Elise had heard that a life-size memorial of the drowned child had been erected somewhere on the property.

As they drank the dark exotic tea, Elise questioned Strata Luna about the prostitute Gary Turello. Gould pulled out the dead man's photo.

"He worked for me at one time, but I can't tell you anything about him." Strata Luna passed the photo back.

"Did he have any friends we might be able to speak to?" Gould asked.

"I don't know. That's the truth. When did you say he died?"

"A year and a half ago."

Strata Luna frowned, appearing puzzled. And for the first time, maybe a little worried. "You think his death has something to do with these recent ones? But that doesn't make any sense, does it? It was so long ago."

"We believe they're connected," Elise told her. "We just haven't come up with the evidence necessary to link them."

Gould remained focused on Strata Luna. "You seem worried," he observed bluntly.

"Of course I'm worried," she said in a defensive tone. "Everybody in this city is worried."

"Can you give us names of anybody he may have associated with?" Elise asked. "Or people who may have known the slightest thing about him?"

Strata Luna shook her head. "I wouldn't know, dar-lin'. I don't socialize with my employees."

"What about Enrique?" Elise asked in an attempt to trip her up. "You seem on fairly good terms with him."

'That's different." Strata Luna waved a long-nailed hand. "He's more like family."

"And Flora Martinez?" Gould asked, an unusual note in his voice.

"She's like a daughter."

Before Elise could give the episode much thought, Strata Luna continued. "There is one person you might want to talk to. I thought about him a few days ago. His name is James LaRue. He comes to Black Tupelo sometimes, sniffing round my girls, asking questions."

"What kinds of questions?" Elise asked.

"About me."

"I wouldn't think that would be so unusual. People are curious about you."

"Newspeople, yes. Reporters, yes. But a retired scientist? What does he wanna know? I ask myself. I finally agreed to speak to him on the phone."

"And?" Elise asked.

"Said he was studying tetrodotoxin. Writing a book. But I think he was looking for a place to buy tetrodotoxin. He insinuated I use it to get high." She lifted her chin and looked down her nose. LaRue was unworthy of her. "People wanna see me for many reasons. Some are curious. Some want a story. Others just want their fortunes told."

"You tell fortunes?" Elise asked.

"Used to. Years ago, when I was hardly more than a child. 1 gave a few people some good advice on stocks and lottery numbers. People who've heard 'bout my early success have offered large amounts of money for advice. But I don't do that no more."

"Why'd you quit?" Gould asked. "I'd think fortune-telling would be less unpleasant than… escort service."

"Humans are intuitive, but few know how to channel that power, including myself. I couldn't foresee the deaths of my own children. I could pick stocks and lottery numbers, but I couldn't save the people who meant the most to me."

All three fell silent. Strata Luna finally looked across the table at Gould. "It's a beautiful fountain, isn't it?"

Gould was once again staring past the potted plants, creeper vine, and magnolia tree, to the fountain. Strata Luna's direct statement caused his cup to slip. He caught it as it rattled against the saucer.

"Do you have any children, Detective Gould?" Strata Luna asked in a way that seemed deliberate as well as elusive. "Alive or dead? Because we must always remember the dead."

Did she question everyone about offspring? Elise wondered.

Gould pulled his gaze from the statue. He stared at Strata Luna for a long time before attacking her question with one of his own. "You lost two children, didn't you? Two girls?"

"I had two daughters," Strata Luna said. "Both are dead. Deliliah drowned, and Marie hung herself." She glared at him, her voice angry. "But you would have already known that, so why talk about it to me?"

"Just my job," Gould said, refusing to be intimidated.

"I know what people say. They say I killed them. Is that what you think? Is that what you're implying? Are you looking for a confession?"

Gould blinked, apparently figuring he'd gone too far. "The question was out of line. I'm sorry."

His words might have fooled anybody else. But Strata Luna was a perceptive woman. She would know he didn't mean them.

"Would a mother kill her own child?" Strata Luna asked.

"It happens," Gould said flatly.

The sudden tension and hostility between the two was palpable. Should she jump in? Elise wondered. Or let the scene play out?

"Not this mother." Strata Luna jabbed a finger at herself. "This mother would never kill her own children."

"I said I was sorry."

"Words are real. Even if you can't see them, or hold them. Once you send them out in the world, they have power. Never speak words you don't mean."

Gould was trapped. There was no response that could placate the woman. Elise had decided it was time to intervene when Strata Luna spoke again.

"You need to stop your self-destructive ways," she told him.

The eye lock was broken.

Gould suddenly made a big deal out of peering into his empty cup. "Did I miss something? Did you read my tea leaves?"

Always turning everything into a joke.

"I try to guide people," Strata Luna said. "I try to keep them from being foolish."

Gould replaced his cup on the saucer. "Thanks for the advice." His voice may have been level, but Elise didn't miss the underlying sarcasm.

He stood. "I have a couple of questions for Enrique."

"He should be in the house unless he's left for the grocery store." Strata Luna waved behind her, clearly glad to be rid of Gould. "Feel free to look around. I have nothing to hide."

"I'll catch up in a minute," Elise told him.

Gould nodded and strode away.

"He could use some lessons in self-discipline," Strata Luna said once he was gone.

"Detective Gould's okay," Elise said, surprised to find that her opinion of him had changed for the better. He was more than holding his own, and sometimes a detective had to ask tough questions to get the right answers. His tactic had been a good one, just misplaced.

"Thanks for agreeing to see us," Elise said, getting to her feet.

Strata Luna reached out and grabbed her arm, fingers squeezing tightly. "Sit down."

Elise remained standing. "Remove your hand." Now it was her turn to confront Strata Luna.

The woman released her hold, apparently realizing her forceful nature hadn't gone over well.

"Have you thought of something about Gary Turello you forgot to tell us?" Elise asked, her voice now remote and businesslike.

"No."

Elise checked her watch. "Then I have to go. You have my card. Call if you think of anything." She began to walk away.

Strata Luna's next words stopped her. "Your mother was one of my girls."

Elise felt a heavy thud in the pit of her stomach. She pulled in a breath and swung around.

"Her name was Loralie," Strata Luna said. "She was beautiful. Exotic. Popular with the men. Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't want to hear that."

Elise waited.

Strata Luna picked up a cookie, turning it this way and that. "Did you know that when I heard you'd been left in a cemetery, I thought about adopting you myself? But I knew they wouldn't give a baby to somebody like me. Not even a baby with devil eyes."

Was she being intentionally cruel? Elise wondered. "Why didn't you come forward when the police were requesting citizen help?"

"What good would that have done, with a prostitute for a mama? Your best chance was to remain a mystery. And Jackson Sweet was dying…"

"Where is she now?" Elise's heart pounded. Her palms were clammy. "Loralie?"

"She has a new life that has nothing to do with who she once was. A life that has nothing to do with you."

Elise would have felt differently toward her birth mother if she'd been given up for adoption in the normal way. What kind of cruel legacy was a cemetery to leave a child? "I want her full name."

"I can't give it to you. Not without asking her permission." Strata Luna took a casual sip of tea that had to be cold. "Would you like me to do that for you?"

Do that for you?

Her word choice was particularly disconcerting. "What's this about? What do you want from me? First you tell me about Jackson Sweet. Now you bring up the name of a woman you claim is my mother. Why exactly did you agree to this visit?"

Strata Luna's haughtiness fell away. "My daughters are dead." She looked up at Elise. There were tears in her eyes. "You're a connection to my past. To a better time. A time before evil came to Savannah."

"Do you know what this is?" Flora touched the ruffled green edge of a red leaf attached to a bushy plant sitting atop a stalk that was at least two feet tall.

David glanced nervously over his shoulder, expecting Elise to appear any second. He'd left the tea party to get away from Strata Luna and her painfully accurate insight. Instead of finding Enrique, he'd run into Flora-who'd apparently been watching for him.

"It's called a lollipop coleus," Flora told him, even though he hadn't asked. Even though he wasn't remotely interested. "They don't normally grow like this."

"I see."

"It took Strata Luna a year to cultivate this particular plant."

"That's weird," David said. "Kind of Tim Burton."

"Tim who?"

"The director," he said, seeing he'd already lost her.

"It's called a topiary."

"Don't talk to Strata Luna about me, okay? No matter how mundane the information might seem."

"I don't have to tell her anything. She just knows."

He let out a snort of disbelief.

"Let's not fight." Flora smiled and moved close, backing him up against the wall. She put her hands on his hips and pressed against him.

He whipped out the photo of Gary Turello and held it in front of her face. "Ever seen this guy?"

"Da-vid." She laughed.

"I'm serious."

"It's Gary Turello. Now put it away." She snatched the photo and tossed it over her shoulder.

"You knew him?"

"We didn't hang out or anything. He was into the punk scene, always getting a new piercing every week."

"Remember anything else about him?"

"He didn't mind the weird shit. If a client was into kinky stuff like beating or bondage or drinking blood, we always sent them Turello."

"Do you remember any of the clients?"

"I never saw them. And unlike you, my naive man, those kind of people always use false names, and the meeting places always change. It might be an abandoned warehouse one night, the basement of an empty Victorian the next."

"Anything else?"

"Should I come by tonight?" When he didn't answer, her hands moved up his body to finally link behind his head, her fingers digging into his hair. She pulled his face close.

At first he put up a fight, but then he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

He was kissing Flora when Elise caught up with him.

"Gould?"

He and Flora sprang apart.

Flora gave him a wicked smile. "I'd better go." She scampered off, leaving David alone with Elise.

"Were you just making out with Flora Martinez?" Elise asked, clearly shocked.

David wiped at his mouth and pulled his hand away. "Kissing," he said, distracted by the red lipstick on his fingertips.

"Did she attack you?"

"We… have kind of a relationship."

That announcement was followed by a long span of silence.

"You're dating one of Strata Luna's prostitutes?" Elise finally asked.

"Dating isn't really the right word…"

"What is the right word? Paying? For services rendered?"

"Seeing each other. That would be more accurate."

"I'm not one of those people who has big issues with prostitution unless it involves innocent children," Elise said. "Under those conditions, I'd be looking for a death sentence if such a thing were possible."

"Flora's a good person."

She picked up the photo of Gary Turello and handed it to him. "Moral issues aside, she's too close to the case."

"It just happened." He pocketed the photo.

"Did she approach you after our visit to Black Tupelo?"

He could see she might be able to accept that.

"I knew she liked you," Elise said.

"I called her. Before Black Tupelo."

"What?"

"I called for a prostitute."

"Jeez, Gould! Are you crazy?"

"Possibly." He thought a moment. "Probably."

"You're a cop."

"I was drunk." Out of his mind, that's what he was.

"That should never be an excuse."

She was right. "I know." He looked down. Anywhere but at Elise.

"Isn't this great?" he asked, cupping a ruffled coleus leaf under his fingertips. "It's called a topiary."

"I didn't know you were a master gardener."

"Wouldn't you say it's a little Tim Burtonish?"

"Pre-Sleepy HollowT she asked.

"Goes without saying, doesn't it?"

He wasn't tricking her with the diversion, but she still played along. He liked that about his partner. She knew when to push and when to stop pushing. But then he regarded her more closely and realized she seemed preoccupied with something more than just his relationship with Flora.

"You okay?" he asked.

She pulled in a deep breath. "Just one of those days when I've been given a little too much information."