4. Chapter Four
Brody followed Grace through the French Quarter after speaking with Marie. He had taken the time to look through the shop to see if there was anything there that could help them, but the best resource they had was the book Marie handed him as they walked out the door,
“Take this, cher. Read it. Learn everything you can about this symbol and the magic behind it. Go through your grandmere’s books as well. She had some interesting books in her collection, and I know she left them for you.”
On top of the mystery they were investigating, now he was curious about what his grandmother had been into. He remembered her having a wide variety of interesting occult things around her house, and she always kept him out of the spare bedroom whenever he visited. He wondered where all of her stuff disappeared to. Surely, she didn’t just give it away to the Goodwill or Salvation Army. Not if what Marie LeBlance said was true.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Grace stated as they walked towards a jazz quartet playing on the corner. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill, dropping into the hat on the ground.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” one of the buskers called after her.
Brody looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed from the walk and the humidity. His stomach rumbled as they walked past a small cafe, the smell of jambalaya wafting through the open door. “I’m just wondering if there are any more cases like these. If there are others we didn’t recognize for what they are.”
Grace nodded. “Agreed. We have a pile of cold cases at the station. Maybe we need to look at them and see what is there. See if there is a correlation to this one.” She paused at a crosswalk, waiting for a car to go past. “My concern is that this has been going on longer than we expected.”
Brody sighed. “God, I hope not. But I have a feeling we’re not that lucky.” His gut told him that it was wishful thinking. If they found more, then they had a big problem. He had hoped to work on the house on his day off, but instead, he planned on grabbing the cold case files and taking them home to review. A thought popped into his head. “Do you like shrimp and grits?” he asked.
Grace looked up at him. Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Why?”
“Well, I’m considering taking those files home and reviewing them. I thought maybe you’d like to join me. Together, we can get through them faster, and I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me.”
Grace ran her tongue over her teeth in thought. “I like shrimp and grits,” she finally responded. “Since we’re both off tomorrow, I’ll be over by ten and bring coffee and breakfast.”
Brody wasn’t expecting her to take him up on his offer, but he was glad she did. He stopped at the address Marie had given them and looked around. “Where is this shop supposed to be?” he asked. He looked at his watch. It was three in the afternoon, and quite a few places didn’t open for a few more hours. The New Orleans nightlife was one to be experienced and enjoyed.
“I don’t know.” She was as confused as Brody. There was nothing at the address except an old boarded-up building that never recovered from Katrina and a dark alley. Even in the middle of the day, the alley was covered in shadows.
“Wait.” Brody slowly entered the alley, his hand on the butt of the pistol at his side, just in case. “There’s a door here, Sheriff.” He reached out and turned the knob, surprised that the door was unlocked. He looked up to see if there was a number anywhere to indicate what this place was, but he couldn’t find one. He looked at Grace standing at the end of the alley. “What do you want to do?”
“Are you with Sheriff Cooper?” a voice called from inside.
“Yes, sir. New Orleans Sheriff Department,” Brody replied.
“Did Marie LeBlanc send you?”
“Yes, sir, she did.”
“Then get in here and close the door. Hurry. They are everywhere watching.”
Brody nodded to Grace and waited for her to join him. He stepped inside first, letting his eyes adjust to the dark confines of the hallway he found himself in. He slowly walked up the hallway, Grace behind him. It seemed to go on forever until it opened into a large room. It was filled with eclectic paraphanelia of the occult and secret societies, voodoo and hoodoo and pagan objects, trinkets and curiosities, from voodoo dolls to ancient-looking tomes.. “Holy shit,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Grace added.
At the far side of the cavernous room, sitting at the end of what looked like an old teak bar, was a grizzled elderly black man. His face was weathered, and the shock of hair on his head was pure white. As they grew closer, they could see his eyes. One was milky with cataracts, the other a deep brown that twinkled at them as he grinned. He sported a grill of silver, making his smile shine in the low light. He was sipping from a glass of bourbon. “Come closer, child. I don’t bite…hard.” He let out a laugh that was wheezy and mischievous.
Grace approached him slowly. “I’m Sheriff Grace Cooper. Marie LeBlanc thought you could help my partner and me. We’re investigating a murder and…”
The old man held out his hand. “Let me see this symbol you found.”
Grace handed him the photo. He motioned to the bar stool next to him, inviting her to sit. She settled on the bar stool and waited as he studied the photo and the strange symbol they found at the murder scene. He slid a shot glass towards her and waved towards the bottle. “Oh…thank you, but I’m on duty.”
“One shot ain’t gonna hurt you or your partner, Sheriff.” He studied the photo for a long moment, glancing up to watch Grace pour herself a shot. He grinned as she tossed it back, chuckling as she shivered from the burn of the bourbon. “Aye, Sheriff,” he finally replied. “I’ve seen this before. It’s an old symbol tied to the city’s voodoo roots.”
Grace glanced at Brody, her heart quickening at the old man’s words. “Can you tell me more?” she asked, leaning closer.
The old man poured another shot and slid it to Brody. He refilled Grace’s shot glass. “Indulge an old man, Sheriff.” He waited until she tossed back the second shot. “This symbol is a mark of protection, a ward against evil spirits and dark forces. But it’s also a warning, a sign of the danger that is lurking in the shadows of this city.” He glanced at Grace, noticing the flush to her cheeks. He poured her a third shot. “Let the bourbon warm you up, Sheriff. There is a storm coming, a chill in the air…although that chill is nothing compared to what is hidden within these walls.” He looked at Brody. “Your grand mere knew this, Brody Whalen.”
“How do you know my name?” Brody asked.
“I know many things,” the old man whispered. “I know the secrets this city holds, secrets that have been buried beneath the cobblestones for centuries.” He set the photo down and stood up, walking around the back of the bar to retrieve another bottle of bourbon. “That is the symbol of the Crescent Order, Sheriff.”
“The Crescent Order?” Brody questioned.
The man nodded, clicking his silver teeth together. “The Crescent Order. That symbol is a mark of those who walk the line between light and dark.” They wielded great power but at a terrible cost. They practiced dark magic, sacrificing innocents to fuel their rituals and grow their power.” He filled their shot glasses again. As long as they kept drinking, he would keep talking.
Grace felt a cold shiver go down her spine. She would’ve sworn the temperature dropped in the room if she didnt know any better. His story was full of betrayal, bloodshed, and a secret order steeped in darkness and secrecy that stretched to the highest level of New Orleans society. Her mind was racing, and her head was spinning from the bourbon. “What became of them?” Grace asked, her voice a rough whisper.
The man’s eyes grew somber as he leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “They say the Crescent Order disbanded at the turn of the century, their members scattered to the four corners of the world. But they are still here, hidden in the shadows of our fair city. They have been waiting for the right moment to rise again.”
“It looks like they are rising,” Brody stated.
“The victims…who are they? Innocents? Or people with influence?” the old man asked.
“Homeless. Two women so far,” Brody answered. He tossed back his…he lost count of how many shots he had had. He glanced at Grace and could see she was feeling the alcohol.
The man nodded. “Look deeper. The homeless were once someone’s loved ones, someone’s boss, someone’s teacher. Not is all as it seems.”
The idea of a secret society lurking in the shadows of New Orleans society sends another chill down her spine. Were the murders some part of a dark ritual that was hidden in the shadows? If the symbol was indeed tied to those who practiced the old voodoo rituals, then they were dealing with something far more ancient and dangerous than she had imagined.
“There are those in this city that still practice the old ways, Sheriff Cooper,” the old man warned. “Those who seek power and knowledge beyond the ordinary. This symbol is a sign of their presence, a reminder of the dangers that lurk in the shadows.” He looked over at Brody. “Be careful, my dear,” the man said, his eyes filled with warning. “For the Crescent Order is said to be watching, waiting for those who would uncover their secrets. Keep your partner close.” He said no more.
“Thank you,” Grace said, reaching into her pocket for her card. “If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.” The old man chuckled, tucked the card into the pocket of his worn shirt, and watched as they walked out of his shop.
“Are you okay?” Brody asked, catching her arm as she staggered once they got outside. Thunder rolled overhead, and the sunny day had turned dark and ominous while they were inside.
“I’m tipsy,” she admitted. “I suspected he was gonna stop talking if we stopped drinking.” She shook her head, a wind picking up around them. “We can’t go back to the station like this,” she chuckled.
Brody agreed. “C’mon. My place isn’t too far, and I’ll make us both a strong pot of coffee when we get there.” He gently took Grace’s arm, and they headed towards Brody’s home together. His mind raced with possibilities. If the symbol was indeed tied to a secret society, then they were dealing with something far more sinister than a simple murder. As they made their way across the French Quarter, Brody couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. A sense of unease settled over him like a shroud. They had to unravel the secrets the city of New Orleans hid in the shadows.