I walked outside with my cup in my hand. The aroma of food filled the air. The air in New Orleans is always fragrant with coffee and spices. I figured I would go back in and sit down to a quick breakfast off the hot bar before going Detective Coffy arrived.
I walked inside the restaurant. A waitress escorted me to a table. The breakfast bar was very attractive—with French bread, doughnuts, and fruit. I was going to eat light though because that pizza was very filling last night. I sat down and ordered a glass of orange juice and some water. The waitress then directed me to the plates at the hot bar and then walked off to get my beverages.
The bacon looked crisp, the sausages smelled spicy, and the eggs were fluffy. The biscuits looked like they could float and the grits were drowning in melted butter. I was going to hate myself later but I only had the stomach for a couple of pieces of bacon and a small portion of eggs.
I walked back to my table and sat down to eat. The waitress had returned with my water and juice. Just as I was about to dig in, I looked up and noticed that Detective Coffy had walked in to get her a table. I watched her for a minute to see if she had noticed me. She didn’t. Perhaps she was hungry too and wanted to get something before the meeting. I waved at her and got her attention. She smiled and walked my way.
“Well, good morning, Detective Jackson.”
“Good Morning to you also,” I said biting a piece of bacon.
She told the waitress to bring her a glass of water. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
She walked over to the cold bar and picked up a grapefruit and came back to the table.”
“That doesn’t look like a good breakfast,” I said breaking the ice.
“Well, I’m trying to watch my diet.” I nodded. I usually am very careful with loaded comments like that from a woman. I learned long ago to just be silent and change the subject.
“New Orleans is not bad,” I said placing a fork full of eggs in my mouth.
“No it’s not. It’s a lot of history here—rich history. Perhaps after the meeting I could show you around some. The French Quarter is a high tourist area.”
“I would like that,” I said, watching her peel the grapefruit.
“So how did you sleep?” she asked.
“Well, everything was new to me so I didn’t sleep much. I just watched TV until at some point it started watching me.”
She looked at her watch. “Oh, shoot! It’s 6:45, we better get going.”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. I noticed that she only ate a couple of sections of the grapefruit. I signaled the waitress and told her to charge it to my room and we left her a tip and walked out. Her car was parked along the curb in front of a wall covered with what I believed to be gang graffiti. The traffic was light and we reached the station in 15 minutes. During that the drive she pointed out a few historic landmarks and tourist attractions. I liked the way she told the back story to everything. She had a talent for placing you in the history of her unique city.
It clouded up quickly, and looked like a real downpour was about to begin when we reached the rear entrance of the precinct. We had just beaten the rain.
The muster room was full of uniformed and plain clothes officers. The odor of the old building lingered in the air even though a collision of different perfumes, colognes, and soaps tried to mask it.
I felt all eyes were on me. Coffy introduced me to a couple of officers. One being a tall chiseled jawed Detective named Bernard Santiago and the other a silver- hair uniformed Sergeant who stood with a military bearing named Paul Drexler who looked like he had been on the force for some years.
The commissioner was a balding man with piercing blue eyes. What little hair he had was grey. He stood next to a medium size black woman with a stylish wavy hair cut, wearing a business suit. I assumed she was the chief of police.
The black woman walked to the front of the room and centered herself on the audience of officers.
“Good morning, everyone…”
She went through the whole spiel about how much she appreciated the hard work the department was putting forth in finding the murderers of the two officers and then she introduced the commissioner to speak next.
He didn’t speak very long either. He touched on some of the things chief spoke about and then finally looked in the back and saw me.
“Ladies and gentlemen and fellow police officers, I want to introduce an Alabama officer who was sent as an advisor to help us along with solving this case. Most of you have probably heard or read about the recent Reaper murders in Alabama. Detective Jared Jackson there”—he pointed at me— “was very instrumental in capturing the killer and solving the case.”
The commissioner looked at all the puzzled faces in the room and anticipated their question.
“I requested his help here. I think that it is good to have a set of outside eyes that might detect something we may have missed. Again--this is nothing against any of you. I admire all of you, but we are a little too close to the recent murders and victims here. This way, most of us won’t be caught up so much in emotion as we investigate. Detective Jackson will be here with us until Friday and will be working close with uhm…” He looked at the chief.
“Detective Coffy,” said the chief.
“Thank you, and so I want all of us to be cooperative in this investigation,” the commissioner went on. “The goal here is to find and capture this guy before he kills again. Detective Jackson, this is Estelle Adelaide, chief of police here. You two will report directly to her and me on any and every issue and also whether there is progress being made in the case.”
“Yes sir,” said Coffy. I nodded.
He ended his briefing with a moment of silence for the fallen officers and a small vigil prayer.
“Be safe out there everybody; I don’t want to attend any more officer funerals for a while.” He said somberly and walked out the door wiping the tears from his eyes.
Chapter 6
“So where do we start?” I asked Coffy. I wanted to see what else she could tell me about the case.
“Well for starters, I could take you back over to both scenes and look over the areas.” She responded.
“I like that, and since you only ate two slices of grapefruit, lunch will be on me. Besides, I can’t wait to try some real Louisiana gumbo.”
“Well, that’s a deal! I even know the best place to eat.”
The first murder scene was out in the edge of town near a place called Metairie. It was obvious to me that it might have been a traffic stop gone badly for Officer Clements.
We talked during the drive to the second murder scene, which was in an empty lot a few blocks from the first scene. There wasn’t much to see. All the evidence was gone by now, washed away by rain or carried away by humans. Maybe even Officer Jones tried to leave a clue but now it was gone too. Still I looked around. The place was sort of secluded. A good place to meet somebody in secret I suppose.
Coffy stood back as I walked around getting a feel for the area. I turned to her.
“A perfect secluded place for a murder don’t you think,” I said.
“Perhaps. Is that what you have come up with, because I saw that the first day.”
She was smiling but she was being sarcastic. I thought about it for a second, but then smiled too. “Okay, let’s go check out the other site,” I said.
I didn’t talk much on the drive to the next scene. She had picked up on my change in demeanor and tried to get me to talking to see if she had gone too far with her sarcasm. I had her where I wanted her. Yes, she pissed me off, but now I had the advantage. She was trying everything she could to get back in friendly mode with me, but I kept her at bay. This helped me keep the information I had gathered last night to myself.
I got out of the car and closed the door gently to show that I was not upset. I walked around the area of Elysian Fields Avenue where the third officer, Officer Davies, was discovered. It was the same thing. No physical evidence.