instead; still, the city was ravaged by a primal wind and storm surge that de-stroyed whole sectors, putting many sections under water, the death toll mounting into the thirties, even as the newscasters spoke, since bodies were being discovered beneath flying debris and rubble. But due to the National Weather Service warnings, the time given to prepare and the fact that the center of the storm had bypassed the heart of the city, opting for the east, and because most people were either in their homes or evacuated northward, many lives were spared.
Back at the precinct house, the day was filled with paperwork involving the Matisak case. Both Kim Desinor and Jessica Coran were brought in to give statements. The day wasted away beneath a gunmetal-gray sky. At one point Alex and the others learned that a black man named Lewis was telling a story about having witnessed a beheading inside the confines of an automobile matching the one Stedman had been driving, one found abandoned not far from Gatorland Storage. Lewis's unobstructed view of the beheading had occurred just outside the hotel where Jessica Coran was staying. “The bastard was stalking Coran all along, no doubt about it,” Alex told Ben as they drove for Surette's former apartment. Tonight, Alex meant to do what he could to get some sort of lead on Easy that might lead to the Hearts Killer. It was time New Orleans was rid of such filth and garbage along with Matisak.
Darkness had descended over the city again. It was half past eight when Alex pulled within sight of Surette's place. Beside him, Ben yawned and guzzled the final drop of a soda he'd been drinking.
“ This is crazy, Sincy,” Ben complained again. “I mean, we looked that place over from top to bottom the first time, and it was clean as a baby's behind after a bath. I remember saying how great it'd be to be able to live like these damned transients, you know? 'Member that? No paper, no bills, no bull, I said. Never seen such a clean place in my life. Always thought these types were messy, but not this guy.” Alex kept his own counsel. He just wanted to get back inside Surette's place.
“ Transients live empty fucking lives,” Ben said now. “Wish I had a little less paper on me. You know I'm still paying on that freakin' van I bought four years ago?”
Alex replied, “He wasn't transient, though. He worked seven blocks down the street at the Blue Heron, remember? And not so much as a paycheck stub lying around that apartment.”
The silence built between them like a wall until Alex finally broke it anew. “I… I just can't help feeling we overlooked something. Will you just bear with me? Hell, you can warm your seat here while I go up, if you like… have a doughnut, but I'm going to pay a visit.”
“ I don't know, Alex…this time o' night, dem dare French Quarter folks asleep with der derringers unner der pillows, mon.”
“ We'll pol-lite-ly knock and ask.”
“ Suppose Gilreath's sister is covering for him, Alex.”
“ You really think Gilreath's been lurking around New Orleans all this time, sleeping in some hole by day and coming out nights to overpower larger men and rip their hearts out with a butcher knife?”
“ Just 'cause Surette was bigger than Davey, you don't think so, Alex? Come on, we both know that men can find superhuman strength while under duress. There was a struggle with Thommie Whiley, right? And Thommie was bigger than Davey Gilreath too, but that don't prove nothing, partner.”
“ I don't know… doesn't figure, Big.”
“ What doesn't figure?”
The old sounding-board game between them was back, and it felt good, Alex thought. “Pigsty Gilreath struck me as one of the few cross-dressing cretins around here who actually had his feet on the ground.”
“ That fairy? I never saw anything particularly stable about him. I wouldn't rule him out, Alex, certainly not on the say-so of that whore Susie Socks. Our little Davey, in an attempt to make up for a variety of shortcomings of one sort or another, and taking into account an upbringing that involved a beating every other day… well…”
“ Well, be that as it may, I just can't buy him as a mutilation murderer, Ben. He wasn't above getting his hands dirty in the small-change department, but murder, getting blood on his hands… I just don't see it with Pigsty, no. Of all the street transies in the area, he was at least concerned about good hygiene.”
“ Including oral?” Ben's joke fell flat.
“ And AIDS and other diseases, and yeah, that's what I mean. Hell, man, he couldn't stand to see blood or roadkill, much less kill someone. It just doesn't wash, him as the Queen of Hearts killer.”
“ Guess we'll know more after we bring him in for questioning,” Ben said, letting it drop.
Alex gave Gilreath another thought. Perhaps he had gone off the deep end, perhaps he'd become a Mr. Hyde, roaming the street by night, picking his prey-gay men known to him-choosing his moment and attacking them, cannibalizing them for some bizarre religious-fantasy experience understood only in the heart and the mind of the madman.
But somehow Alex doubted it.
31
May I meet him with one tooth and it aching, and one eye to be seeing seven and seventy divils in the twists of the road, and one old timber leg on him to limp into the grave. There he is now crossing the strands, and that the Lord
God would send a high wave to wash him from the world.
Once at the apartment which had previously been Victor Surette's, the two detectives first learned from the superintendent who was the current occupant. It was a young man named Michael Dominique, and they were greeted with a smile from a tall, sallow-faced youth whose eye shadow was half on, half off, his eyelashes startlingly long and lovely, though the rouge and lipstick were a bit overdone. His eyes were extremely feminine, piercing and hypnotic, and as green and hard as jade as he peeked from behind the door chain.
“ I'm Detective Sincebaugh and this is Detective deYampert, ma'am, ahh, sir…Mister… ahh…”
“ Dominique, Michael Emanuel Dominique, and don't mention being sorry around me, sweet cakes. So, you're two big strong strapping cops here just to see me? Really now…” He opened the door wide to reveal that he was in a tie-dyed, rainbow-colored terry robe, his hair in a towel as if just washed.
“ Freshly dyed,” he said, pointing to the towel atop his head, his eyes following Alex's. “Must keep up appearances, you know.”
“ We're here… well, we've been investigating the Queen of Hearts killings from the beginning, and-”
“ Oh, dear, how tragic… how terribly, horribly tragic it all is, but what has it to do with me?” Mr. Dominique looked truly perplexed.
“ Well, we'd like to ask you a few questions about the apartment.”
“ The apartment?'' He was now clearly confused, turning to stare inward at the place. It wasn't a bad place. Lots of room and closet space as Alex had recalled, the bedroom, living area and kitchen three separate rooms, a full bath rounding it off. Most of the older apartments in the area, you had to share a bath at the end of the hall. The furnishings were Surette's or belonged to the super, exactly as they'd last seen the place, a hodgepodge of styles from a steel-and-glass Scandinavian coffee table to an Early American couch with flowers and turkeys as a pattern.
“ Yes, well, one of the victims once lived here,” Alex said. “His name was Victor, Victor Surette.”
The young man turned away and stepped to the couch, asking them to come in before he sat, crossing his cleanly shaved legs, displaying his manicured nails, the fingers long and delicate, his feet covered in bunny-eared slippers. “I wouldn't know. No one's ever told me about that.” Alex thought him extremely composed at learning such information. For all this guy knew, Surette's body might have been found right here in this room, on the very couch where Dominique now sat.
“ Well, it has been a long time,” Alex volunteered, “but my partner and I would like to ask you if at any time during your stay here…”
“ Yes?”
“ If you've gotten mail for Surette, or a phone call asking about him, or just anything about the previous
