When I could finally find my voice I asked “Oh baby, who did this to you? Please tell me.” She just cried and shook her head. I repeated over and over again she was safe and no one would harm her. She finally mumbled something which I couldn’t understand. But at least, it was a start. I had to show her she was safe with me. I took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. She followed as if in a trance. I took her into my bedroom and while she was standing facing the bed I unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt. I let her skirt fall and turned her to face me. I asked her to sit on the bed and I knelled in front of her to remove her boots. I didn’t want her to feel I was making sexual advances toward her. But her body was having an effect on me, then what I saw on her inner thighs turned my desire into anger. Her thighs were not only scared, but there were recent burns, apparently from cigarettes. Kneeling, I carefully removed her boots and wasn’t surprised to see scaring on her calves.
This girl wasn’t just tortured, she wasn’t allowed to take basic care of her body. I detected an odor when close to her. She was wearing a red thong and red bra and neither had been washed lately. I took her hand and had her follow me to the bathroom. I removed her bra and asked her to remove her thong. If I needed any further proof this was the redhead from the driver’s license this gave it to me. Between her legs was a crop of natural red hair. I started the shower and told her to shower. I waited while she cleaned up and when she finished helped her towel off. Through all this she hadn’t said a word or offered any resistance. I took her to the bedroom and had her sit on the bed. She showed no emotion or embarrassment even though she had been naked in front of a stranger for 30 minutes.
I looked into her eyes and saw nothing. “Baby, what is your real name?” Without hesitation she answered, “Simone.” I showed her the driver’s license again, and she again cried. I held her tight. “Baby, I think your name is Jasmine. Tell me Jasmine, who did these terrible things to you?” I had kept the newspaper clipping from when Allen had been set free. the photo was of Allen and Shuster exiting the courthouse with big smiles on their faces. I put the picture in front of her and her reaction was immediate. She screamed and tried to get up and run. I held her close and tight, she sobbed and finally everything began to pour out.
Her story was even more disturbing than I imagined. She had been kidnapped in St. Louis. She could remember bits and pieces of home, but not much more. She vaguely recalled being in a bar and then leaving with two men. She remembered the car she was in stopping somewhere and the men leaving her alone. She ran and was able to escape. All she had was her driver’s license. She managed to hitch a ride into New Orleans the closest town. She needed money desperately but had no memory of her past. No one to call. She began to prostitute herself to make money. Finally she had enough to find an apartment and a job. Just a short while after settling into her home she was kidnapped again. She did remember it was the same men who she had been in the car with. One of the men in the picture was in the car she had escaped from. The men had her locked somewhere for days, she wasn’t sure how many. They raped and tortured her for hours on end joined by a third man, using a razor blade to cut her and then pouring alcohol in the open wounds. They also gave her some type of drug every day. Her memory was foggy but she remembered getting loose from her bonds one day and walking the streets. She was found, unfortunately by Sugar Bear. He could have cared less that she had been tortured and kidnapped. In her he saw dollar signs. He kept her on drugs and making money until she was taken by me. Sometimes, when Sugar felt she wasn’t making enough money or he just wanted to have fun, he would cut her and burn her for his enjoyment. The drugs had mostly wiped out her memory of her past. She vaguely remembered the name Jasmine, but she did recognized the driver’s license.
I could see the exhaustion in her face and pulled down the covers and tucked her in. I needed one more answer before I let her rest. I looked down at her and asked, “Jasmine, one thing I need to know. When Sugar uses a fork, what hand does he use?” I saw the confusion on her face. She thought and after a bit said “Left”. Good, now at least I knew if there was trouble what side to expect it from. I had to think, I had no idea what to do with her, but I knew sending her back to Sugar wasn’t an option.
Chapter 13
I knew Sugar Bear would not take losing a money maker very well. He had seen me and there was no place in the city I could go without the risk of being spotted. A plan, of sorts, developed. I needed someone to sit with Jasmine while I tried to meet with Sugar. I didn’t exactly have a lot of friends I could ask to sit with a hooker I had kidnapped. Only one person I could think of would do that for me.
Rachael had been a girlfriend many years ago, in high school. We were engaged to be married until I shipped off to Vietnam and she attended nursing school. After my first tour we saw each other frequently, and again became engaged. I volunteered for a second tour and that ended our relationship. Rachael graduated nursing school and married a doctor. I returned from my second tour, and married Julie. Neither of us really ever got over each other, we still occasionally met for a night or two. We had known it was wrong, but still loved each other. Rachael divorced and never remarried. It was 2 AM and I decided to get a few hours of sleep before calling Rachael. I checked in on Jasmine, she was sound asleep. I took a quick shower and turned in. I woke up at 6 AM, looked in again on Jasmine, still asleep, I got dressed.
I was really hesitant to call Rachael, but there was no one else I felt I could trust. She answered on the third ring, I could tell I had startled her from a sound sleep. She immediately perked up when she heard my voice. I asked her if she would come immediately and bring her first aid kit. She agreed without hesitation. Thirty minutes later Rachael pulled up in her car. Rachael was just a beautiful as she had been all those years ago in high school, Long curly black hair, a wonderful smile, beautiful dark eyes, and beautiful body. Just slightly fuller in all the right places. She was dressed in her hospital scrubs and looked wonderful. I let her in and offered her coffee, she gladly accepted. She kissed me and looked me over, obviously looking to see what damage required her attention. She smiled and asked “OK Jessie, you get me out of bed at 6AM and I don’t see any blood, what gives?”
I gave her a cup of coffee and asked her to take a seat. She sat on the sofa and waited for an explanation. I had no idea how she would take my story. I decided I needed to deal with Sugar Bear before taking time to explains so I said, “I know I am a pain in the ass, but I need you to do something for me, no questions asked for now. I need to go out and do something, I promise when I return I will tell you everything.” She looked at me, smiled, and shook her head. “OK Jessie, but you gonna owe me big time.” I knew I could count on her so I explained. “Upstairs in my bed is a girl that needs some medical attention. She has been abused and I really need you to do whatever you can for her” Her expression was priceless. “Let me understand, you got a woman here and called me to help, that about cover it?” I couldn’t help but smile and replied, “Yep that about covers it. I also need to make sure she stays here till I get back, see I kind of kidnapped her.” She couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh Jessie that is choice. It’s always wonderful waking up at 6 AM to assist in a felony. OK as long as I get a full explanation later.” I replied, “You have my word, oh one other thing. if I’m not back by noon, I want you to take the picture off the wall in the hall, the one of Julie and me skiing. On the back is a five digit combination. Use that to open the safe in my office closet. Inside the safe take everything you find.” I handed her Jasmine’s driver’s license. “Take the girl and put her on a plane to St. Louis, when she is on the plane call the St. Louis Police Department. Tell them this girl was drugged and kidnapped and transported down here.” I handed her a copy of the internet site I had found. “Give them her flight number and then go home, never come back here and forget today ever happened.” She continued to shake her head, but didn’t ask any more questions.
I had her follow me upstairs and looked into
the bedroom. Jasmine was still sleeping so I gently closed the door. I needed to prepare before going to deal with Sugar Bear. Rachael went downstairs to get more coffee and I went in my office and opened the safe. My plan was simple pay Sugar Bear enough money to forget Jasmine. I took a nylon sport bag and placed my K-Bar in the bottom. I covered the knife with a sheet of newspaper and placed $50,000 on top of the newspaper. I made sure the knife wasn’t visible when I opened the bag to show the money. My plan never included using the knife. Just in case Sugar didn’t want just money, this might come in handy. I came down the stairs and Rachael was sitting on the sofa drinking her coffee. I looked at her and realized how beautiful she really was and how I longed to spend time with her. Since my wife’s murder I had been all consumed with revenge. I bent over and kissed her, told her not to worry and headed out the door.
Chapter 14
I arrived at The Nest at 7:40AM. I was hoping Sugar would want to collect his property early. There were a few customers from the night before, or maybe early risers. Sugar Bear was sitting on the same stool that he was when I had left with Jasmine. Apparently this was where all his girls working Decatur Street came to meet him. I took the stool besides him and could feel his icy stare. He started the conversation. “Where the fuck my girl.” His tone wasn’t friendly. My nerves were on edge and I knew I needed to get this done, one way or another. I looked him in the eye and trying to look as confident as I could. “She’s with me and ain’t coming back, I’m buying her from you with the money in this bag.” I opened the top of the bag and showed him it was full of cash. “There’s $50,000 in here, you take that and I take the girl, that simple.” He stared at me and he shook his head from side to side. He kept his voice low but the anger in his voice was evident. “You muther fucker, that girl is mine. You gonna bring her back here so I can see her, then maybe we talk about the rest. So you gives me that bag, go git my bitch and come back here.” I had a bad feeling it would come to this, I tried to bluff my way through. “Sugar, that ain’t happening, I put her on a flight last night and she is long gone, so you take this money or get nothing.” The look on his face said he wanted to tear my head off. There were other people in the bar, so he did what I hoped he wouldn’t. He said, “OK, we needs to finish our business in private.” He raised his huge bulk off the stool and headed to the door. This was plan “B”, unfortunately I didn’t have a plan “B”.
I followed Sugar out the bar into the morning drizzle. The streets were empty at this hour. We walked uptown on Decatur for one half blocks and he took a left into a service alley. Twenty feet into the alley he stopped and turned to face me. “Now what the fuck you bees sayin?” I placed my right hand on the bottom of the bag and gripped the K-Bar through the nylon. I opened the top of the bag with my left hand and showed him the money. My eyes were glued to his left hand, if he made any aggressive move this would be his lead. He grunted and grinned that gold smile. “You knows, a bitch like that makes me lots of money. You know what I be saying, I gonna need mo than that fo her.” I had anticipated a move like this and had my answer ready. “Sugar, that whore ain’t worth no 50K on the street and you know it. The condition she’s in, she might live long enough to bring you 5K in a few months. So there ain’t no more money. This is the price, and she is gone where you can’t touch her.” I continued to hold the open bag in front of me. His expression wasn’t giving me a lot of confidence this was going to end well. “So you saying, I take this money and can’t get nuthin else. Nobody fucks with Sugar Bear asshole.”
The last words were spit out and I knew a move was coming. I saw his left hand reach inside his jacket and I caught a glimpse of silver. Without hesitation I lunged the bag forward into his stomach, just below the breastbone. I shoved with the hilt of the knife. The blade penetrated the thin nylon and entered his stomach. His eyes registered surprise and pain but he continued to grab for his gun. His massive belly helped slow him down, his left hand was wrapped around the grip of the pistol but his stomach made removing it more difficult. I couldn’t give him time to get the gun out or I was dead. I stepped forward and with all my strength forced the blade forward and the hilt of the knife downward. I felt the blade move further into his body and by lowering the hilt it raised the tip of the blade doing more damage. It must have done what I hoped, he groaned and I felt his energy begin to drain. I must have hit his heart because he started to go limp. I gave one stronger shove and he took a half step backwards and fell. His hand was still on the pistol in his waistband. As he fell I stepped back and the blade slid out of his body. I looked around, no one anywhere. Several stacks of money had fallen from the bag. I had no idea if they could be traced but I scooped them up and put them in the bag making sure nothing fell out the hole the blade had made. I reached into the bag and removed the K-Bar. Sugar’s eyelids were fluttering and his feet were moving slightly but that was the only sign of life. I didn’t want some heroic citizen saving his life so I stepped over to his side and keeled down. I drew the razor sharp blade across his neck. I pulled my sweatshirt hood up and headed for my car.
The ride home went quickly, traffic was extremely light. I looked back on the meeting with Sugar and tried to understand my feelings, the problem was, I had no feelings. I believe I would have had more remorse had I stepped on a bug. I had no sympathy or regrets for what I had just done.
Chapter 15
New Orleans Police Detective Ryan Thibodeaux
It was 9:27 AM and Detective Thibodeaux was sitting in the Homicide Division Office at NOPD Police Headquarters on South Broad Street. Detective Thibodeaux had been with the NOPD for 13 years. He had been in homicide for the last 5 years. Homicide was the plum department in NOPD which everyone aspired to, but it was also the busiest. Thibodeaux had worked all night on a murder in the Desire Projects, seems someone caught someone else where that someone wasn’t supposed to be. It wasn’t a hard case to solve, since the dead man had successfully shot his murderer. The only thing left was the paper work and Thibodeaux was just finishing that and ready to head home to get some sleep.
He was signing the last of the forms when the watch Sergeant stuck his head in looking for a homicide detective. As luck would have it Thibodeaux and his partner Rodney Greyfield were the only ones there. A citizen walking her dog on Decatur St had seen a body in an ally just off Decatur and St. Ann St in the French Quarter.
All Thibodeaux could think was, oh shit a tourist. If this was a tourist murder then the Mayor, Chief, and every other asshole in the city would be crawling up his ass to solve it. He looked at his partner and could think of only one thing to say “Fuck.” They headed to the garage, grabbed their car, and headed to the scene.
Thibodeaux had one of the best clearance rates in the squad, but this one didn’t feel right. Project murders often solved themselves. French Quarter murders often went unsolved. Thibodeaux pounded the steering wheel, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” Rodney had to laugh. He was the junior man in the squad, having been there only five weeks although he had been a cop for nine years. He had been lucky to be paired with Thibodeaux. Everyone said he was the man to teach you.
They rolled up on Decatur St. and double parked, there were 6 marked units already blocking everything up. Thibodeaux saw the Vieux Carre commander Captain Sullivan standing near the entrance of an alley. Sullivan was smiling which Thibodeaux interpreted as a hopeful sign. If this were a tourist murder there would be no joy in Mudville. They shook hands and Sullivan pointed to the body now covered with a hospital sheet in the alley. “Well, the city just lost one of its most outstanding citizens.” Thibodeaux and Sullivan walked to the body and uncovered the face. “Damn, somebody got the old Sugar Bear, well fuck me.” They both laughed, had a citizen seen them he would have thought they were mad, laughing over a dead body. Thibodeaux bent down and uncovered the body completely and looked it over. A large amount of blood was on this chest and had run to the ground; the throat had been opened from ear to ear. He looked at Sullivan and asked, “Murde
r weapon?” Sullivan shrugged. Sullivan told Thibodeaux he had a canvas going of the neighborhood but nothing yet. “Anyone check the The Nest?” Again Sullivan shrugged. Lots of fucking help this asshole was going to be. Thibodeaux told Rodney to check the body and join him down the block at the The Nest. The Nest was a known prostitute hangout, and Sugar Bear was also known to frequent it.
Thibodeaux entered the bar but apparently word had spread that Sugar Bear was murdered, because except for the bartender the place was empty. Good news spread fast was all he could think of. The bartender was a tall skinny pimple faced kid barely old enough to drink. Pimple looked at Thibodeaux with a blank expression. He apparently was no stranger to the police. Before Thibodeaux said anything pimple said, “I don’t know shit about what happened.” Thibodeaux had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “I ain’t asked you nothing yet asshole.” Pimple looked confused, but said, “I still don’t know nothing.” Thibodeaux said, ”Why don’t we start with a simple question like, what is your name?” The kid seemed confused even by that but was able to tell Thibodeaux that his name was Grover Cleveland. Again not laughing was almost impossible. “Look Grover, we got a dead man up the street, I know he hangs out in here, you work here so you must know Sugar.” The kid must have had an IQ somewhere south of 10, but he did manage to shake his head yes. “Good, now was Sugar in here this morning?” Again a nod of yes, now we were making headway. “Was Sugar with anyone when he was here?” Again a nod, this time to the affirmative. “Can you tell me about who he was with, were they talking, arguing, what?”