Neutral Zone

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

LaGrange drove back to the station, planning for Louise to review some photos of 'known offenders.' He knew it would probably be a wasted exercise, but they had to do something constructive. While waiting for results of Charles' autopsy, Louise would not be allowed to leave the city, and LaGrange wanted to make sure she was kept occupied.

While LaGrange was getting Louise settled with the mug books, Cordero was reviewing cases they believed had been committed by the same person. She said: 'LaGrange, you realize we're going to have to bring the Feds in on this. This makes number four, and it's become serial killing. I don't see any way around it.'

LaGrange nodded. 'Personally, this is one case I wouldn't mind turning over to VICAP. They've got the resources and the manpower to cover this. We don't.'  

'But every time they're brought in on a case, it's still the locals who solve it.'

'Yes, but usually it's by accident. Look at Ted Bundy. They got him on a traffic stop. That's the way it works.'

Cordero was still unhappy. 'I don't know. I still resent turning my case over to the Feebs.'

LaGrange looked thoughtful. 'Tell you what. I'll prepare a packet of information on our crime spree, and put it in the regular out box. You know the way the mail is here. It might get out of the building by next Christmas. At least we'll be following procedure.'

Cordero smiled at him and offered him a handful of M&Ms from the jar on her desk. 'I like a man who thinks the way I do.'

He sniffed. 'Don't like me too much, Cordero. Remember what Madame Bel Jean said. I's just a ole' coonass.'

***

Two young girls sat in the bus shelter on Canal Street, waiting for the Cemetery bus to come by. Dressed in Catholic School uniforms, at first glance they were identical twins. Closer observation showed that one looked about eighteen months older than her sister. The older girl was hugging the younger girl to her, trying to stay her tears.

'Come on, LaKia, you know its no use crying. Papa's just in one of his moods this morning. By the time we get home, it's gonna be better. You wait and see.'

A distinguished looking man in his forties entered the bus shelter and sat on the bench next to the sisters. 'Is something wrong, chere? Is there something I can do to help? Here, I've got a clean hankie in my pocket.'

LaShawna and LaKia both looked up suspiciously at the older white man. Their granny had warned them about perverts who wanted to do things to little girls. But LaShawna wasn't worried about this man. He couldn't do anything her papa hadn't already done. She took the handkerchief from him, and said: 'Thanks, mister. LaKia's just a little upset this morning is all. She'll be all right by the time we get to school.'

The man looked at the uniforms they wore. 'Y'all go to St. Francis de la Salle?'

'Yes sir. How did you know?'

'My cousin went there a long time ago. They still haven't changed the uniform. Say, honey, what's LaKia upset about, anyway? Can I help?'

LaKia answered for herself. 'Our papa, he was real mad this morning. Mama, she wasn't home from workin' yet when we got up.'

'Did your papa yell at you, honey?'

'No, sir.' LaKia looked up for the first time. Her little face was all bruised and swollen. 'He whooped me real good this time. All I did was ask him to get the cereal out of the cupboard for me. It was too high for us to reach, and mama doesn't like us to climb on chairs.' She started sobbing again.

The man smiled. 'I think I can do something to help you, LaKia. Tell you what. There's no school today for the two of you. We'll go over to Jackson Square, go to the Café du Monde and have biegnets, then we'll take an afternoon ride on the Creole Queen. How does that sound? And I'll make sure it's alright with your papa. I'll send him a note. What's your address, sweetie?'

With the inherent trust of a small child, LaShawna gave him their address and their papa's name. The man wrote a note out on a small pad of paper he carried in the breast pocket of his jacket. Then he folded the note in half, and wrote the man's name and address on the outside.

'Now, if only I can figure out a way to get this to your papa.' He spoke thoughtfully, and then looked up at two young men standing nearby. ' Oh, wait, there are my cousins. Marc, Philippe, I'd like you to meet two new friends of mine, LaKia and LaShawna. We're going to spend the day playing hooky from St. Francis de la Salle. Can I trust you two to carry a note to their papa?'

The one the man called Philippe squatted down and lifted LaKia's face in his hand. 'What happened to your pretty face, chere? Don't tell me, you fell down trying to climb to the top of the St. Louis Cathedral.'

LaKia laughed, but stopped when it hurt her face.

The man's face was suddenly stern. 'I think that's something to take up with the girls' papa, Philippe.'

The two younger men took the note from their cousin, who led the girls across the Neutral Zone so they could catch the bus going in the other direction. LaShawna and LaKia each held one of his hands.

LaShawna looked up at the man as if she had just discovered her own personal Papa Noel. 'Mister, you know our names. What's yours?'

'You can call me René, chere.'

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