3. Chapter Three
The sign on the front door of the Voodoo Emporium still said closed, but Grace knew Marie was waiting inside for her and Brody. The air was filled with the sound of jazz and the buzzing of tourists as they made their way around the French Quarter. Stores and eateries were starting to open to face the influx of people wanting to sample etouffee and jambalaya. People beyond the Quarter were facing rush hour traffic, going to jobs that shielded them from the macabre crime she was dealing with, their car horns bleating in the distance. A street car rumbled by, its bell cheery in the mid-morning air. She could smell rain in the air as she walked up to the shop door and knocked. Hopefully, it would cool the city down and give them some relief.
Brody stood to one side of the shop’s entrance, his thumbs tucked in his duty belt. He casually observed Grace, taking in the way she kept her long dark hair braided and twisted up into a bun. A few wisps curled at the nape of her neck. She was petite, coming up only to his shoulder, and freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. Her blue eyes crinkled in the sunlight when she pulled her sunglasses off, and there was something about how she smiled at Marie when she opened the door and sent a warm jolt through him. He turned away from his new partner and watched the street.
When his grandmother left him the house in the French Quarter, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted the responsibility of fixing it up and restoring it to the grand old place he visited as a kid. He remembered the house being full of old furniture and mementos of a life well-lived and well-loved. He was surprised at how little was left of his grandmother’s stuff, even after the letter she sent him stating that she had cleaned out. What was left fit in five of the largest totes he could get at Walmart, and once he was done renovating, he’d display the knick-knacks proudly. He’d forgotten the allure of New Orleans. His tenure with the FBI in Washington, DC, had left him little time to visit. He was glad he was back, although he had hoped to start this new phase of his life in a laboratory and not investigate a gruesome crime scene.
The door to the Voodoo Emporium swings open, revealing Marie LeBlanc. She was a tall, statuesque woman with cunning eyes that saw everything. Her caramel skin glistened in the morning light, smooth and making her appear ageless. Brody suspected she was anything but.
Although they were in New Orleans…
“…is this young man, Grace?”
Brody shook his head, realizing he had missed part of the conversation. “Brody Whalen, ma’am. Forensic investigator.” He offered Marie his hand.
Marie tilted her head as she gazed at him. A small smile crossed her lips, and she took his hand. She turned it over, the forefinger of her left hand tracing the lines of his palm. “Be careful, Brody Whalen. Your return to New Orleans comes with danger mixed with a relationship you were not expecting.” She laughed, stepping aside and ushering them into her domain. She locked the door behind them, pulling the shade down. She didn’t need a bunch of tourists coming into the shop and ruining the atmosphere she had created. “What is this symbol you spoke of, Grace?” Marie led them to the back of the shop, where she had set a table with tea. She motioned for them to sit.
Grace reached into the folder she carried and pulled out the photo of the symbol they found at the crime scene. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“It seemed to glow on the wall like the blood was mixed with some bioluminescent compound,” Brody added.
Marie stared at him and chuckled a low, sultry sound. “Cher, this is New Orleans. If a strange symbol drawn on a wall in the blood is glowing, it is not some mysterious bioluminescent compound. “She took the photo from Grace and hissed, dropping the photo as if she had been burned, crossing herself. “This is a mark of darkness, of evil power and forbidden knowledge.” She grabbed a lighter and set the photo on fire, burning it over a plate.
“Wait! That was…” Grace sighed, shaking her head. “That was evidence.”
“That was evil!” Marie pushed away from the table, standing up and walking to a shelf behind them laden with jars and boxes. She found a piece of Palo Santo and lit it, setting it in the small bowl in the middle of the table. “Pour us some tea, cher, and I will tell you more about that symbol. “She motioned to Brody as she sat down, silently whispering a prayer.
Brody’s eyes met Grace’s, his brow furrowed in question. She shook her head slightly, silently telling him to wait to ask his questions. He poured each a cup of tea and waited, afraid to even take a sip. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to drink it or if he was going to get yelled at by the woman sitting between him and his partner.
“You can drink the tea,” Marie stated as if reading his thoughts. She lifted her cup, sipping the fragrant brew. “That symbol is tied to the dark history of our city. It is a symbol of arcane voodoo rituals, secret societies, and ancient beliefs.” She set her cup down.
“Secret societies?” Grace asked. Marie’s words sent a chill down her spine, and the room suddenly felt cold. “Is this some sort of ritualistic killing by some nefarious organization?”
Marie laughed. “Cher, really, “she admonished with affection. “You grew up here. You know the stories. And I suspect your partner here does, too, if his grand mere taught him anything. “She leaned towards Brody. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked. Brody shook his head. She laid her hand over his. “It’s all right. You will remember me. You have not been gone from this city so long that your spirit has lost its way.” She stood up and retrieved a book from the bookcase. “Now. This symbol.” She fell silent as she paged through the book, sipping her tea every so often.
Grace could do nothing more than wait for Marie to find what she was looking for. The thought that a secret organization could be behind the killings raced through her head. Were the two murders that were so much alike some ritualistic murder? Did they have a serial killer on their hands like Brody suspected? And just how deep did the killer’s connections to the city run?
“Here it is.” Marie laid the book on the table and tapped the text. “This symbol goes back to the days of the war.”
“Which war?” Grace asked, setting her teacup down.
Marie snorted, looking at the Sheriff. “The Civil War. There is strong magic behind it, and the fact that there is an all-seeing eye within the crescent makes me believe that whatever secret society this belongs to is one not to be trifled with.”
Brody read the text Marie showed them. “So…obviously, it’s not some ancient Egyptian iconology or even that of the Illuminati…”
“Are you sure?” Grace posed. as she leaned back in the chair.
“Seriously? The Illuminati?” Brody gave her a skeptical look.
“It is not the Illuminati,” Marie stated with finality. “It is something darker and older.” She pointed to the folder in Grace’s hands. “I know you have photos in there. Let me see them. We will need to delve into some dark places to solve this.”
Grace handed Marie the folder, and the three began reviewing everything before them. Brody’s phone chirped with test results on the body, giving them more information but not enough to break the case open. “Wait a minute. Where’s the note we found?” she asked Brody.
“What note?” Brody and Marie asked at the same time.
Grace shuffled through the papers on the table until she came across the note she and Bodreaux found in the pocket of the victim’s skirt. She handed it to Marie. “Have you seen anything like this before? I don’t recognize the language.”
Marie studied it for a moment. “No. No, I do not, cher. “The longer she stared at the strange note, the darker its mysterious meaning seemed to grow. The words seemed to shift on the paper, much like the symbol seemed to glow on the wall. She handed the paper to Grace. “But I might know someone who can help us decipher it.”
Grace stood up. “Then let’s go.”
“Sit down, Grace. These things take time. They are delicate, and you know there are plenty here who are wary of the law. Especially the law investigating murders where voodoo and mysterious symbols are involved.” She poured them another cup of tea. “You two drink your tea. I will contact him.” She left the room, disappearing into the shop.
Brody studied Grace. “Are you okay? You’re pretty pale.”
Grace nodded. “I feel…I feel like we’re being watched. Like someone is messing with us, and they are involved in these murders.”
“Like you’re a mouse being chased by a cat?” Brody offered.
“Yeah. And these murders are the cheese to draw us in.”