Bourbon Street Stalker

[Luna Silverthorne]

::a young elf reaches into her leather bag and pulls out a grouping of scrolls placing them carefully on the desk where people may read them if they wish::

 

 

“Five o’clock sounds good, I’ll see you then.” Christopher hung up the phone and turned back to his computer. He glanced at the old mantel clock to check how long he had to make it across town and still be on time. ‘Two hours should be plenty of time.’ He thought to himself as he began to shut down the computer. He picked up his laptop case making sure the recorder in it had fresh batteries. He didn’t want anything to go wrong with this interview. Leeland might be his friend and his wife’s brother, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have the interview or see this book published.

The parking garage where Christopher kept his vintage mustang wasn’t far from the high rise apartment he and his wife Jessica shared. As he stepped up to the car and pushed the button to unlock it he thought about her for a moment. She had been one of the people that thought he was the right person to do the profile book on her brother. Personally he wasn’t sure anyone should, Leeland wasn’t always the nicest of people when it came to reporter type questions, but he had agreed and that was a start. The drive to Leeland’s warehouse loft didn’t take long, it never did. As Christopher came down Rampart he decided to grab a bite to eat at the Orange store, curry beef always sounded good to him. He pulled the mustang to a stop in front of the place and climbed out, looking around at the random people gathered outside the store. It was the only part of this side of town that he wasn’t fond of. He never really felt safe there anymore. He was in and out of the store quickly with his food in hand. He drove on up to Marigny and turned right. The one-way streets of this area always drove him crazy you had to either turn early or go past your destination to get there. He turned on Dauphine and made his way to Mandeville and the warehouse loft where Leeland lived. He sat in his car long enough to eat about half of his dinner before closing the package and climbing back out of his car. He really wasn’t looking forward to this interview. He knocked on the door and waited.

A few moments later a voice could be heard from inside, “Come in Chris, you’re early as always.”

Christopher opened the door and stepped through it into a room that always made him smile. As he looked around he knew this place would hold a prominent place in his book. The office looked like something straight out of an old Sam Spade detective novel, from the simple wooden desk at the other side of the room to the walls of books. His eyes did as they always did and scanned the covers of those books as he walked in, there was everything from his last thriller novel to tomes that must have been hundreds of years old on those walls. “Hey Leeland, thanks for agreeing to this, I know it wasn’t something you wanted to do.” He took in the normal appearance of his brother-in-law and smiled to himself. The man fit the scene as well as any old gumshoe would have. The brown hair hung long over his shoulders and the goatee only had a few strands of gray streaking through it, but as usual it was Leeland’s eyes that told the story. Their hazel depths held more secrets than Christopher wanted to find out.

Leeland closed the file folder on the desk in front of him, “No it isn’t, but at least I know you and know that you will do a good job of the story. Now I’m in the middle of a case so lets get this started, I don’t have a lot of spare time at the moment.” He snapped, he really hated this idea, but with the publicity he had been getting something needed to be done to let the public know the real truth of how things had started.

Christopher sat down in the leather chair opposite the desk and reached into his case to pull out the recorder. “Ok as we discussed on the phone I want to record this so that I make no mistakes when I get back to my place an start writing.” He turned it on and sat it on the desk. “So it is September 7, 2020 in New Orleans, Louisiana. This is the opening interview with Leeland Jackson concerning his involvement with the capture of serial killers here in southern Louisiana.” He smiled at his friend and hoped that he wouldn’t kill him before this was over and the first of the books was finished.

“Where do you want me to start?” Leeland asked looking with dread at the recorder that was about to make a novel out of the last fifteen years of his life.

 

 

Bourbon Street was dead as always for just before midnight on a Sunday night in the middle of summer as Leeland walked out of Johnny White’s just before midnight. He wasn’t ready to go home yet, but needed a change of pace for awhile. It wasn’t a long walk to the next tavern on his mental list, just a few short blocks up the street and around the corner before he was slipping through the doors of the Dungeon and ordering a beer. As the tiny yet beautifully tattooed barkeep handed him his drink he decided that he didn’t want to be inside after all and headed back. Something about tonight just made him feel like outside was best. Something was coming. He didn’t know what it was, only that it felt bad. He couldn’t have been more right. As he began walking again he found himself headed towards Jackson Square. It was normal to make a trip through there after dark most nights however; this was not making him feel any better. Even the square, someplace he called a second home felt like trouble was brewing. His eyes scanned the scene for the problem, but found nothing. Nothing looked the least bit out of the ordinary. He walked quickly around the square seeing the faces of people he knew, some were his friends others just faces he knew. He made his way along the walk, his eyes scanning for what was wrong. Matthew made note of the reader at the corner of St. Ann and Charters, she never seemed to change, and not once had she looked better. There along the fence was a battered and bleeding body that no one else seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to. His heart tightened as he recognized the patch on the dark hooded sweatshirt the person on the ground was wearing. He quickened his pace to get to the body praying in the back of his mind that she wasn’t dead. Leeland knelt down next to the still form that lay against the fence. “Jessica… Jessica?” he asked reaching out and lightly shaking her.

The woman groaned as he touched her, making him pull back his hand, “Hurt.” The word was a whisper. Suddenly his sister was standing beside him with her med bag in her hand. She didn’t say anything, just dropped down and began to assess the woman on the ground. She started at her feet since Leeland was knelt down next to her shoulders.

Leeland thought his heart would stop; it wasn’t who he had thought it was. Instead of his sister laying there in the pool of blood it was a woman he hadn’t seen in years. “Elizabeth…oh god Lizzie? What happened?” he asked carefully tracing her face as she turned to look at him. She tried to speak, but the words simply wouldn’t come. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, within seconds he was dialing 911. “Don’t move. I’m getting help. Just stay with me.” His eyes found his sister’s and silently pleaded for her to do everything she could.

The dispatcher answered on the second ring, “911, what is your emergency?”

“A woman has been beaten, she is at the St. Ann’s gates of Jackson Square.” His words were clipped as he looked around at the people simply going about there business not even seeming to notice what was happening. “She needs an ambulance.” It wasn’t unusual but it still bothered him.

“One is on the way, is the woman breathing?” the dispatcher asked.

“Yes, but its shallow and slow.” He told her tracing his fingers over Elizabeth’s hair. “You have to make it. I won’t let you die, not here and not like this.” His words were more for himself than for either Elizabeth or the woman on the phone. The look in her eyes was far away and he began to help his sister check her over. His heart dropping again as he saw the nasty stab wounds she had received to her stomach.

“I understand. Someone will be there soon sir.” The woman told him softly. He sat the phone down and reached back to pull off his satchel. He always kept a small amount of first aid items on him when he was wandering the streets. He took out a clean rag and began to wipe the blood off of her face. Knowing that Jessica would deal with as much as she could and he wanted to keep Lizzie alert and with him.

“Elizabeth? Can you hear me?” he asked scared that she was too far gone to answer him. Her face looked so pale he wasn’t sure she was going to make it.

Elizabeth groaned in response, her eyes fluttering open and fighting to focus on his face. She lifted her right hand and placed it on his arm. “Leeland?” she struggled to ask. The pain in his heart nearly took his breath away.

“Yes beautiful, its me. What happened?” he asked feeling the tears start to fall from his eyes as he began to take count of the number of small wounds she appeared to have over her face and neck. It looked to him like something had shattered in her face. Before she could answer he heard the ambulance pulling up and stood up to make sure they knew where they were needed. Suddenly everyone seemed to notice her at once. As the EMT stepped up and took over the actions of making sure she was stable Leeland started looking at the group of people that had gathered around as he had knelt there with her. “What are you all looking at? None of you seemed to care about her until the ambulance showed up. If she dies because no one here bothered to do anything to try and help her you had all better pray that the gods above have mercy on you, because I won’t.” he growled. People began to walk away, that is everyone but a heavy set woman who continued to stand a few feet away watching the EMTs stabilize Elizabeth. “Go away Karrie, I don’t even want to see you right now. That is your setup I walked past on the corner. There is no way you missed whatever happened here.” His anger was all but consuming him. He couldn’t believe that one of the regular readers would let something like this happen without at least calling for help for the person.

“I didn’t know who it was.” She tried to answer from where she was standing; she knew it was not a good idea to get any closer to him. Not when he was in this kind of mood. They had never been the best of friends in the first place.

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. We were taught to watch out for people in need and to help them if we could. Someone attacked her, you should have done something to help.” He snapped, “I have no idea how she could be laying here and no one notice her. After all this is New Orleans. Nothing goes unnoticed here.”

Jessica looked at him, “I’m sorry. I saw her walk by, but I didn’t think anything of it. She looked like a drunken homeless lady. She’s only been there a few minutes.”

Leeland’s eyes looked from his sister to the woman the EMTs were working on, and back to Karrie, “Even with a reading my sister came to help. How can you be so heartless?” he asked watching as his sister’s boyfriend walked up and put his arm around her.

Jessica stepped closer, and lowered her voice. “You could smell it because of what you are same way I could, Street Doctors notice things like that before most people would. Leeland took a calming breath and turned back to Karrie, “Now take off.”

She looked at him with the strangest expression, “I have as much right to make money out here tonight as anyone else.”

“No you don’t, not tonight.” He snapped watching her storm back toward her setup. He looked at Jessica and could nearly read her mind, “I can’t go with her, but I plan on meeting her at the hospital. Good luck tonight Jessica. I think you will need all of it that you can get.” He told her. Something about the night still felt wrong but he couldn’t figure out what it was, but attacks like this didn’t happen often.

He followed the ambulance to the hospital on his motorbike praying she would be ok. He knew they might not let him in to see Elizabeth when he got there. Parking in an employee only space he headed inside. “Evening Kathleen.” He said to the nurse working the emergency room desk. She was someone he had known for years.

“Evening Leeland.” She responded. “How are things tonight?” She commented looking up as he came in. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Things tonight are not good. You just had a young woman come in. Can you tell me who got the case?” he asked hoping that she was going to give him the information without too much trouble. It wasn’t something they normally did but they were close and he knew the fear was written all over his face, so he was hoping that his position held a little weight tonight. He was in luck.

“Lawrence McKennia. Do you want me to look up the case?” she asked.

“No, I’ll just talk to Larry.” He said walking toward the doors leading to the examination areas of the emergency room. As he pushed open the doors his heart tightened in his chest yet again. What was he going to do if she didn’t make it. He wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to handle that. He saw Larry just a few steps inside the emergency room. “Hey McKennia, got a second?” he called.

Larry stopped and turned around to look at his old friend. “What can I do for you Leeland?” he asked. “It usually takes a disaster to get you to come in here.”

“I am hoping you can give me a status report on your newest patient, a young woman that came in a bit ago.” Leeland told him softly as he walked Larry walk towards him.

A sadness came over Larry’s face, “I’m sorry, she didn’t make it. Did you know her?” he asked coming to a stop in front of Leeland.

Leeland dropped against the wall his legs no longer wanting to hold him upright. “What do you mean?”

Larry looked confused, “She passed away before she arrived here. There was too much blood loss and trauma. She never had a chance.” Larry explained. His words did nothing to make Leeland feel better.

“She can’t be gone. It’s not fair.” Leeland snarled knowing that he had to at least appear to stay in control as long as he was in the hospital.

Larry reached out and put his hand on Leeland’s shoulder. “She is gone. I am sorry, there wasn’t anything I could do. How did you know her?” he asked leading Leeland in the direction of the doctor’s lounge. “I don’t remember you hanging out with strippers anymore.”

“She was an old friend. I’ve known her for years, just hadn’t seen her in a long time. Wait a minute did you just say stripper?”

Larry sat down in the chair next to him, “Yeah my last patient was a stripper from Big Daddy’s. She was turning tricks on the side and from the looks of it one of her Johns wasn’t impressed.

“Oh hell. I didn’t mean her, the woman I’m looking for was the victim of multiple stab wounds. Kathleen must have misunderstood.”

“I heard her come in. Madison got her, took her straight into surgery from what I heard. Stay here and I’ll see if I can get you an update.” He said standing back up and heading out of the lounge.

Leeland sat in the plastic chair shaking as he waited for his friend to return. It wasn’t long. “She will live but. I would recommend helping the police to find out what happened tonight.”

Before Leeland could say anything static filled the room from the over speakers, “Lawrence McKennia, you are needed in ER stat.”

“Go I will be fine.” Leeland said.

Lawrence smiled and slipped out of the lounge. Leeland sat there in the hard plastic chair trying to keep his mind from running away with him. It seemed like an eternity later when a tall skinny redheaded woman opened the door and walked in. “Leeland Jackson?” she asked looking at him.

“That’s me.” He said looking up at the woman. “Do you have information on Elizabeth?” he asked.

“Yes, she is in her own room now.” She tried to smile, but Leeland could see she was tired. “You can see her whenever you want to.” She forced a second more believable smile and turned toward the door. “Room 1642.” She slipped back out of the room leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.

Leeland sat there for a moment with his heart racing. Now that he knew she was going to make it he didn’t know quite how to deal with what was going on. He hadn’t seen her in years and suddenly she shows up beaten and bleeding in Jackson Square, New Orleans, Louisiana. He stood up and headed to her room still having no idea what he was going to say to her. The walk to her room only took a few moments, but he was slightly shaking by the time her got there. Lifting his hand he knocked lightly on the closed door thinking to just keep walking if she didn’t answer. “Yes.” Her voice came softly from the other side of the door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, letting the door stick in the open position behind him.

“Hello Elizabeth.” His own voice came out as a whisper at the sight of her laying so still in the hospital bed.

He watched her smile slightly, “Hello Leeland, I thought I had dreamed seeing you.” Her voice was weak, but he could hear the fight in it.

“It was no dream. Do you remember anything?” he asked reaching out and brushing his hand over hers.

“From my day yes, about the attack not really much. All I know for sure is that somebody jumped me outside the Dungeon tonight.” She winced in pain.

Leeland hated seeing her hurting and tried to comfort her, “Why were you there?” he asked unable to move his hand from where it rested on hers.

Elizabeth got a faraway look in her eyes, “I came here to see you and Jessica.” She whispered.

He didn’t know what to say so he just stood there waiting for her to continue. “I knew you would show up sooner or later, and I didn’t feel like going to Johnny White’s it was too early from what I remember from the last time I was down here.”

“Yeah Marry Ann doesn’t come on shift until one. So where are you staying?” he found himself asking.

Elizabeth blushed and shifted slightly on the bed, “Here until they release me.”

Leeland shook his head, “Then where, and how long were you planning on staying in New Orleans?”

“I don’t know where I will be staying, I had been hoping to crash with either Jessica or another friend, but I didn’t get the chance to get a hold of Dolphin before I ended up in here. As for how long, I had been planning on making New Orleans my home.” She told him quietly.

“That’s cool. Now all we have to do is make sure that nothing like this happens again.” Leeland told her.

“I wish I knew what happened tonight.” She mumbled.

“What do you remember? I know you said you don’t remember much, but anything would help them find who did this.” Leeland told her noting the New Orleans Police Officer standing at the nurse’s station he could see through the open door.

Elizabeth could see the officer too, “Ask him to come in and take the statement. I don’t want to have to go over this anymore than I have to.” She struggled.

“I thought that would be a good idea too.” He smiled walking over to and out the door. Elizabeth watched Leeland talk to the officer for a moment before the two of them came back into her room. “Liz, this is Officer Hackinstien.” Leeland said as they walked in.

“Hello Officer.” She tried to smile.

“Hello. I hate to have to ask you about what happened tonight, but if we want to catch the man that did this I need to.” He said softly.

“I don’t remember much.” She looked from Leeland to the officer, “The only thing that I can tell you is that they were standing outside the club. They had a heavy hoody on with a madi gras mask.”

The officer smiled, “How did you get to the square?” he asked.

“I walked. I knew Jessica was there, I knew she could help. She’s a medic.” Elizabeth shook her head, “I didn’t realize just how bad I was hurt.”

[The Portrait of Zool]

Hi E.S.M.!

 

Great story! I really enjoyed reading it. It was interesting, and left me wanting to know more!

 

Your profile says you want critical feedback, so I hope you don't mind...

 

First I would like to make some suggestions on general editing and formatting. I think rereading it a couple of times before you post would have caught the few misplaced words, verb tense, and punctuation errors. Also, I think it would be much easier to read if it wasn't just a couple big blocks of text. Generally we separate paragraphs with a double space, which helps to break it up and make it a bit easier to read online.

 

I think the general plot so far was great, and I really liked the characterization, but there were a few spots that gave me pause. For example, you describe Leeland as a 'Sam Spade Gumshoe', but you describe him as having long hair and a goatee, and his office as being imposing and having a lot of books, even vintage tomes - none of which actually sounds like Sam Spade.

 

I like detail in a story, but everything in a story must serve the story somehow, whether by setting tone or actually advancing the plot. Unfortunately, some details are given repetitiously, such as the location New Orleans, which then just comes across as cluttering.

 

The ending is a real cliffhanger, leaving lots of questions the reader wants to know, such as: What was the source of the strange wounds on Lizzie's face? Why did Lizzie decide to move to New Orleans? What is behind Leeland's intense emotions towards Lizzie? And others...

 

Overall, very good work - keep at it!

[Quincunx]

Odd. I went into this expecting to do a review, but instead the result was a snippet of crime fiction as well.

 

Wetwork

 

The ache crept along my shinbones, eased near my ankle and foot bones, but it only hurt where my toes were pressed flat against the floor. Better not flex them. If there's anything I miss, it's the days when I didn't have to polish my shoes--

 

"Waste of time, Chaundry."

 

I watched sensible sneakers (white polished) and slacks circle around the furniture. She half-squatted, half-knelt, keeping her slacks off of the floor, clicked her pen closed and pointed at the hair swirled around the rubber-capped chair leg. "Tile floor." She tapped her pen on it to make the point. "The janitors mop it clean, but they don't water the mops more than once, twice a room? So every time hair gets snagged under something, they'll just tug the mop free and keep cleaning. That hair's probably been there for months. Years."

 

I stretched out my hand and grabbed a plastic baggie. "Do you think they came in here and mopped afterwards?"

 

She pushed off of her knee with both hands, looked over me at Numbers Twelve through Thirty, then to the opposite wall and Numbers One through Five, then back to me. Aisha's the only woman I know who'll refuse to talk to you if she's not facing you. I didn't think that up myself, that was what someone said in the sensitivity training, and the only real, usable info to come out of it too. Shame my sisters didn't share that conviction. . .

 

". . .ago at most. Where do you think that hair came from? Students! Teachers!"

 

"Lieutenant--", I pointed with the tweezers, "--does this hair look like it was tangled in with the others?" I slipped one side of the tweezers underneath the hair where it looped up and over the metal chair leg; she nodded, beckoned to Charlie and got the tag and the photographs. Number Sixty-One. After Charlie had finished, I unwound the hair, bagged it, and handed it over to Aisha. "You've got better eyes."

 

She scrutinized it, let her eyes go out of focus, shuffled through people with them like a dealer shuffling the deck, the same twitchy motions--and then looked at my hair. "It doesn't look like the teacher's or any of the students' hair. It looks like yours, even if it's five times too long. Very fine. Black hair is usually coarser than other colors. Dyed?"

 

I took the baggie back, and the pen also, labeled the baggie Sixty-One, opened it up under my nose, and waited. I can't sniff. I'd get too many scents, from outside the bag. The best possible result is when the scent is almost all baggie, and just a hint of something else.

 

"Not dyed, but. . .What's it called when you girls get your hair curled?"

 

"A perm."

 

"It's been 'chemically treated'." Quite a look from someone who has a pink stripe in the middle of her shoelaces. "That isn't the smell of dye; I'm certain of that. It's no scent my sisters have applied." I looked up and could just see the edge of Number Fifty-Eight's tag, so I tapped that a bit further onto the desk. Aisha picked the pen out of my fingers, looked at Number Fifty-Eight itself, then stood up to inspect it better. I closed baggie Sixty-One and stood up myself--not carefully enough. I'll need to polish my shoes again, tonight.

 

Aisha snorted. "Look at this!" She jabbed the pen at the cell phone, turned it on without picking it up. I expected text, maybe even a cheat sheet. Instead it showed a picture: what looked to be on its way to becoming Number Seventeen, the body which produced it, and the final touch, the only thing in focus was the textbook with a ragged-edged bullet hole burnt through it. "Callous! Stupid! If he hadn't stopped to snap his hilarious picture, he might have escaped! This was the seat of a cross-country runner. Ex. Got caught with marijuana."

 

"Is that a calculus textbook? I thought these were juniors."

 

"Mixed classroom." I stopped looking at the picture. Aisha, thinking, is worth watching. "It doesn't fit. Our killer selected the target classroom, slipped in, and killed everyone professionally. Ask Charlie, he might have finished reconstructing the sequence of events by now." I wouldn't. I'd wait until he finished the diagram on paper or until he realized that not everyone understands blended military and fantasy football terminology. Diagram would be first, probably. "Everything planned, so either the killer committed suicide and we haven't realized it, or he escaped. With all that forethought, he then selects a random sample of students?"

 

An escape plan. . .I opened Sixty-One again. Bad practice, but I needed to know.

 

". . .It smells like Halloween night. . .I think it's glue, like you use with fake noses."

 

"Spirit gum. A wig." Aisha, coming to a conclusion, could strike the gods blind. Her eyes stopped moving, and glittered. "Find the nearest surveillance camera. Find people who go out that haven't gone in."