The Whispering Room

“The what?”

“You know, graveyard dirt. Zombie powder. The Brothers Courtland may have crossed someone dabbling in something a little heavier than the practice of law.”

“Like voodoo?”

“Voodoo. Hoodoo. Conjure.” He scowled at the road. “A lot of names for the same crazy-ass mumbo jumbo.”

“Yeah, I admit the snake angle is freaky. And pretty damn messed-up. But my money is still on Sonny Betts. He’s involved in this somehow, we just have to find the link. I say we pay him a visit, rattle his cage a little. See what falls out.”

Mitchell rubbed the side of his nose with his index finger. “You know, a lot of guys like Betts are into Santeria. Especially the ones with connections to the Mexican drug cartels.”

“Oh yeah?” Evangeline peeled her sticky ponytail from the back of her neck.

“I saw a show about it on the Discovery Channel.”

She turned to stare at him.

“What?”

“You watch the Discovery Channel? Somehow I figured the Cartoon Network was more your speed.”

“I’m a man of many tastes,” he said. “You should know that about me by now.”

“So you were watching the Discovery Channel…”

“Yeah, and like I said, it was about these drug dealers using Santeria to impress their enemies and keep their underlings in line. Only they called it La Regla de Lukumi. Or some shit like that.” He rolled down his window and a breath of hot air rushed in. “This car smells like a friggin’ ashtray.” Like a lot of ex- smokers, Mitchell had a low tolerance for cigarette odor.

“I’ve never even heard of…what did you call it?”

“La Regla de Lukumi. I’d never heard of it, either, until I saw it on this show. Anyway, there’s a group that operates along the border called the Zetas. They’re militia and ex-military officers from south of the border with some Guatemalan Special Forces thrown in to boot.”

“In other words, a bunch of real badasses.”

“Badasses with a capital B. The drug cartels recruit these guys to act as enforcers. And now they’re deepening their networks into cities like Houston and Dallas. From what I saw, they’re about as nasty a gang as you’re ever likely to meet up with, and get this—they even have their own witch doctor, shaman, big kahuna…whatever you want to call it…that advises them.”

“You think these Zetas have made it all the way into New Orleans? That’s who Betts is trying to impress?”

“Not the Zetas, per se, but their employer. You gotta understand how these people operate, Evie. They don’t just believe in taking out the enemy. They think if he dies screaming, they’ll still have power over him in the afterlife. Hence, their affinity for torture. I’m willing to bet Paul Courtland and his brother did some heavy-duty screaming before they died.”

“I don’t doubt it, but it all sounds a little too spiritual for a guy like Betts.”

“I’m not saying he believes it. He’s just not above using it to make a point.”

Evangeline reached over and adjusted the air conditioner vent so that it would blow directly on her face. Mitchell took the hint and rolled up his window.

He shot her a quick glance. “So what do you think?”

“I’m not sure I buy the whole Zeta thing, but I guess I wouldn’t put much of anything past Betts.”

“Exactly. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ve been thinking about those two men Meredith Courtland saw in her husband’s study that night. From the way she described that meeting, it sounds like they were putting the screws to Courtland. She heard arguing and she could tell her husband was angry. The trial was over, he’d done his part…yada, yada, yada. If those guys were federal agents, isn’t it possible Courtland was playing both ends against the middle?”

“Working for the feds, you mean?”

“Let’s say, cooperating with the feds.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something? It was Courtland who got Betts off.”

“So?”

“If Courtland was ‘cooperating’ with the feds—” Mitchell put the word in finger quotes “—why would he work so damn hard to get Betts acquitted?”

“Maybe they had bigger fish to fry. The middleman, for instance, between Betts and the cartel. What better way of finding out who his supplier was than by putting someone inside his operation that he trusted? His lawyer, no less.”

“So Betts’s acquittal, according to your theory, was all some master plan by the men in black?” Mitchell thought about that for a moment. “What about Courtland’s brother? Where does his death fit into this whole grand scheme of yours?”

“His death was a warning. Or an insurance policy. Betts didn’t go to trial until the fall, but Courtland would have already been prepping the case in the summer when his brother was killed. Betts ordered the hit, then threatened the rest of Courtland’s family if things didn’t go in his favor. That could be when Courtland started cooperating with the feds.”

“And the snakes?”

Evangeline suppressed a shudder as she turned to stare out the window. The gardens along St. Charles flashed by the window in a colorful blur. “Maybe they wanted to make it look like an accident to anyone but Paul Courtland.”

“Or maybe, like I said, Betts wanted to impress the head honchos.”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

Mitchell was still frowning at the road, deepening the creases in his forehead and around his eyes. He never wore sunglasses and probably didn’t even own a bottle of sunscreen. The skin on his face and arms was like old leather. “So a few days after Meredith Courtland overhears the conversation in the study, her husband moves out and tells her the marriage is over. What do you make of that?”

“It sounds to me like Paul Courtland was trying to put some distance between himself and his family.”

“Yep. That’s what it sounds like to me, too. Or maybe, like she said, she just missed the signals. The trouble between them could have been brewing for a long time. Meredith Courtland wouldn’t be the first person to lie to herself about the condition of her marriage.”

They fell silent for a few minutes while Mitchell negotiated the heavy traffic in the Quarter. As they drove by the liquor stores and souvenir shops on the lower end of Decatur, Evangeline could tell something was on his mind. He was still watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay, spit it out,” she said.

He suddenly looked uneasy. “How long are we going to ignore the elephant in the backseat?”

She pretended not to know what he meant. “What elephant?”

“‘I don’t want to end up like that dead cop.’ That’s what she said her husband told those guys that night, right?”

“I guess.”

Mitchell turned and dropped his chin, as if he were peering at her over the top of invisible glasses. “You guess?”

“All right, yeah, that’s supposedly what Courtland said.”

“So let’s talk about it,” Mitchell said impatiently. “Because I know damn well you’re thinking about it.”

Evangeline closed her eyes as she let her head fall against the back of the seat. It was a relief to finally say it. “What if he was talking about Johnny?”

“You know that’s a long shot, right?”

“Why?”

“Why?” He ticked off the reasons on one hand.

“One, Johnny’s not the only cop who’s been killed in this city. Two, we don’t even know that he was talking about an NOPD cop. Three, there’s not a shred of evidence that connects Johnny to Sonny Betts or Paul Courtland.”