Satchmo would have been in the city at the time the Axeman had been striking.
He might well have been playing on the jazz night demanded by the killer.
“I’m doing it.” Benny said. “Hell, I’m going to be Satchmo. I’m not taking any chances! Of course, the man was amazing with the many instruments he could play, but I can play a sax. I’m not the best, but I’m not the worst. If there’s any chance the killer is a crazy guy reenacting the Axeman and he wants jazz, I’m going to give him jazz.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Well, hello, handsome.”
Mabel stopped and waited, grinning when she saw Dan coming.
“So,” she added, “it seems you now want my help.”
They were in the middle of a sidewalk, and while Bourbon wasn’t as busy as it might be at night, people were walking around.
He smiled as he took his phone out of his pocket and pretended to speak on it.
“Mabel, forgive me. Yes, I have come for your help, and I’m praying you can give me something.”
The superior amusement she had shown when she’d seen him approaching her seemed to fade. “I wish I had more,” she said quietly.
“I’m grateful for anything,” he said.
She studied him for a minute. “I suppose you are a decent sort, and perhaps you were a bit thrown when I approached you at Lafayette Cemetery. I saw you there, and I knew who you were, and I thought that... Well, I suppose I expected you knew you might see me or, rather, that you might have even been hoping for a chat with a relative.”
“Could I have a chat with one of my relatives?”
“I’m so sorry; I haven’t met any of the Oliver family. Not from before.” She smiled again. “Let’s wander a bit. You’re welcome to still pretend you’re on the phone. Better yet, there’s a lovely place on Royal that makes the best shrimp and grits ever.”
“You can...you can eat shrimp and grits?” he asked.
“No, but I believe I can smell them and enjoy them vicariously through you.”
“All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”
“They play nice soft jazz, too,” she murmured, heading down the block to Royal Street and the restaurant she’d referred to.
He was a single person, but he was led to a table for two. Mabel sat across from him.
“If you wouldn’t mind, please tell me what you know and what you’re seeking. Just set your phone down and speak softly. People will believe you’re conducting business on Speaker.”
She’d really been pretty in life, he thought.
She set her chin in her hand, leaning forward on the table, attention on him as he told her about the crime scene Ryder had called him to. He told her about the crimes in Florida. He told her about the strange recurrence of the number six, and how Katie had believed she’d seen Jennie and they’d found a long dark wig.
He also told her about the axe left at Katie’s house.
“You must take serious care for that young woman!” Mabel said.
He nodded. “Yes. Mabel, please—”
“Back to the number six,” she said. “A few years back, they found six goats with their throats slit, drained of blood.”
“I know that,” he said, a little disappointed.
“Everyone cried out it had to be a voodoo thing, but it wasn’t. The city is host to many Latin Americans, so they cried Santeria. Then they blamed it on the city’s Wiccans, and then the so-called vampires.”
“Yes, I heard.”
She shook her head. “Here’s where I may be able to help you.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t really think this meant anything at the time, but...in my day, there was more of a...well, a bigger difference between the rich and the poor. The city was filled with immigrants, but we had the old guard, too. There were still older people living who remembered the Civil War, and some hated the North for the invasion of the South, and most hated the South for slavery and the death toll of the war. And we were involved in another war, World War I. But there was a man named Allan Pierce who was, to the best of my knowledge, born and raised here. He...he was fascinated by the legends of Marie Laveau, the famous voodoo priestess. You know about her, of course.”
“Yes, of course. People still perform little rites at her tomb, even those who do it just for fun. They leave her coins and do three circles and the like,” Dan said. He was growing a little impatient—he was so desperate for help, and she was telling him NOLA tales.
He’d ordered the shrimp and grits. When they arrived, she leaned back, smiling and closing her eyes for a minute, as if she could inhale the aroma of the dish he’d ordered.
“Mabel, you know my dad was from here, his family... I’ve known NOLA since I was a kid,” he reminded her.
“Pay attention. Yes, it’s a long story, but it may help you. Okay, so... Allan Pierce had delusions of grandeur. His family had lived in the city during the Civil War but owned a plantation down the river, and they had been very rich. Then they’d lost it and been all but penniless. I met him because he used to play checkers with some of the oldsters I knew. He used to talk about Marie Laveau, saying how she had powers of second sight and the ability to tell the future because she was the world’s best listener. Also, she was excellent at making a prediction that was more of an instruction—if you’re expecting something, it just might happen because you make it. Are you following me?”
“I think so,” he said. “Not sure where you’re going, but I’m following so far.”
“Pierce had a bet with one of the old men he played checkers with. He said he could make something happen by saying so. As it happened, I
