John Ringo: Princess of Wands

“ Wonderful place to spend a weekend,” Kelly said, dryly. “So much…”

“Atmosphere,” the blonde finished, waving away a fly that was trying to settle on her straw. “I’ve decided to use the word ‘atmosphere.’ And if you end up staying over, don’t go out at night.”

“Oh?” Kelly said. “Why?”

“Alligators,” she replied, smiling slightly with no smile at all in her eyes. “They tell me they come right up in the town. Very bad idea to walk around at night.”

Kelly opened his mouth up to reply, then looked down at her chest again and closed his mouth.

“My eyes are up here,” the lady said, dryly, after the examination had taken up a few seconds.

“I know, I’ve made my decision,” Kelly replied distractedly, looking up a few moments later. “I was reading. Slowly.” He looked around and then frowned again, his entire face crinkling, then clearing. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, standing up and offering an arm.

“I have to pay my bill,” the blonde pointed out.

“Why?” Kelly said, grinning. “The deputy didn’t. Clearly the food is free.”

“I have to pay my bill,” she said, again trying not to grin.

Kelly waited while the lady paid her bill and even left a small tip, which he felt was excessive considering the quality of food and service he had seen. When she was done he accompanied her outside. It was slightly cooler outside under the trees than in the sweltering bait-shop.

“What’s your name, lady wearing the Secret Diaries T-shirt?” Kelly said as they walked to the edge of the parking area and stopped under a tree.

“Barbara Everette,” Barb replied. “57 Wildwood Lane, Algomo, Mississippi.”

“Barbara,” Kelly musingly. “Barbara… can I call you Barb?”

“Yes?” Barbara answered.

“Barb, I’m going to tell you a story,” Kelly said. “I am going to tell you this story, despite the fact that I find it fantastical, because I want you to know I’m talking to you because of the story and not because of your… remarkable endowments and pretty face. Although those certainly help.”

“Okay, tell me the story,” Barbara said, dryly. “And avoiding reference to my endowments will help your case.”

“Well then, once upon a time, this must have been, oh, yesterday?” Kelly said, looking up at the sky and nodding. “Yeah, yesterday. Once upon a time I went to visit a medium, bordering on small. Now, before you get hooked up on the ‘police using a psychic’ crap, let me explain that this medium, Madame Charlotte, is very good. But not, in my opinion, because she taps into mystic understanding that mortal ken should not wot of, no, but because she’s been tapped into the street for literally decades. She knows everyone, understands people and can make some pretty astute guesses. You with me so far?”

“Oh, yes,” Barb said. “You can even use words of more than one syllable.”

“Beauty and brains, how wonderful. Anyway, I went to visit Madame Charlotte to try to figure out where my old friend Carlane had run off to. Carlane is a pimp, a rather nasty one but there’s no reason to suspect he’s become a serial killer. However, I’m starting to get a real desire to speak to Mr. Lancereau, because people are hiding him.”

“What do you mean?” Barbara asked, wrinkling her brow.

“When you ask people about someone, and you’re working on a public case like the Ripper, they tend to be either very helpful or very uncommunicative,” Kelly said, trying to explain something it had taken him years to figure out. “If they’re being helpful but don’t know the person, they say things like ‘have you checked the phone book?’ And they’re helpful in random ways. Some of them are more common: ‘I don’t know him but I’ll call my sister she knows everybody’ and the phone book question. They don’t all say: ‘well, there’s some Lancereaus up Nitotar way but that’s out in the swamps and you’ll need a boat.’ ”

“That’s what the deputy said,” Barb pointed out.

“That’s three times I’ve gotten that identical response,” Kelly replied, holding up three fingers. “Which means that three out of three people in this town have been instructed on what to say in the event of questions. And that makes me very interested in Mr. Lancereau.”

“I didn’t go to New Orleans because of the Ripper killings,” Barbara said, her face working. “Are you telling me that he might be here ?”

Kelly paused and looked around the town, frowning.

“There are at least six people involved in the killings…” he said, cautiously.

“How do you know that?”

“Semen traces,” Kelly responded, coldly.

“Thanks so much for the blunt answer,” Barb replied, wincing. “Go on.”

“Carlane Lancereau is not one of the rapists,” Kelly continued. “But I’m beginning to suspect he knows who they are.”

“And the chief deputy is… what? Hindering your investigation?” Barbara asked.

“Certainly not giving full support,” Kelly replied. “I’m going to be fascinated if he turns up with Carlane in an hour.”

“Why?” Barb asked. “Then you take him back to New Orleans?”

“Perhaps,” Kelly said, frowning. “But I don’t actually have anything to hold him on. All I can do is ask questions. If he gives me the runaround, there’s not much I can do.”

“So… why did you tell me about the medium?” Barbara asked.

“Ah, Madame Charlotte,” Kelly said, regaining the thread. “Madame Charlotte told me that Carlane had come down here, back to his swamp. But she also told me that that Carlane was playing with powerful ju-ju. More powerful than she was willing to play with. And that I was in grave danger, which is no surprise since we’re talking about at least six people who are willing to involve themselves in rape and murder. Last, but not least and most important to you personally, she told me that I should look for help from the sign of the princess,” he finished, looking at her chest again.

Barb quirked an unnoticed eyebrow and lifted her shirt outward.

“Bingo,” Kelly said, grimacing. “I wasn’t seriously looking for the sign of the princess, but lo and behold, there it was. Talking with a rather unhelpful deputy shortly after the death of the local sheriff.” He looked back up and stared in her eyes. “So, Mrs. Everette, what do you know about Carlane Lancereau?”

“Oh, come on ,” Barbara snapped. “I’m on vacation and my car broke down. It’s in the shop; want to go look at it? All I want to do is get the heck out of this place!”

“But that doesn’t explain why Madame Charlotte would tell me to look for the sign of the princess,” he said, gesturing at her chest. “I’m trying to figure out why she told me that, well, a soccer mom was my only hope of survival.”

“Lots of girls wear shirts that say princess,” Barb pointed out with a shrug. “Maybe I’m not the right sign of the princess.”

“There’s that,” Kelly replied. “But I was wondering… would you care to assist me in my investigations?”

“Can I at least leave my bag in your car?” she said, shrugging with her left shoulder to indicate her clothes bag.

“Of course,” Kelly said. “Want me to carry it?”

“I can carry it as far as your car,” Barbara said, smiling.

When he popped the trunk on the unmarked police car, Barb let out a whistle and bent down into the trunk. Although he tried not to notice, Kelly was forced to admit that all her assets were not up front.

“What the heck are you doing carrying around an AR-10?” she asked, dropping her bag into the back. “Is it the carbine or the full auto version? Never mind. It’s the full auto, I can see the markings on the reverse. And a pump twelve gauge?”