Rampart Street (Valentin St. Cyr Mysteries) by David Fulmer Read Free Book Online Page B

replaced the telephone in its cradle.

    She turned around and went up the stairs to the second floor. As she reached the master bedroom, she peeked through the crack in the door. Her mother was still asleep, thankfully, exhausted by grief and her medications. Their maid Betsy was busy in the kitchen. The house was silent. The visitors had been asked to leave by two o'clock out of respect for the family.
    She continued down the hall to her room, closed the door behind her, and immediately went to the chest of drawers and the tray with a bottle of brandy and three glasses that sat on top. She poured one of the glasses half full, took a sip, then another, feeling the heat in her stomach and the tight pressure in her forehead wash away. As she sat down on the edge of her bed, a sudden memory of the Creole detective gliding into the armchair caught and held her.
    The moment the lawyer Delouche began talking about St. Cyr, her heart had thumped like a drum and then a peculiar quiver ran down her spine when he told her that the detective wished to investigate her father's murder after all. She had felt a giddy delight and a jagged spike of dread, both amid the melancholy weight of her poor father's death.
    A rush of guilt and sorrow assailed her, and she put a hand to her face and sobbed, thinking of her father's horrible death, shot down and dying alone like that and in that place.
    After a few moments, she got hold of herself, sat up, and dabbed her eyes. She carried her glass to the window to watch the quiet street.
    The first terrible days after the murder had passed and the funeral was over. As her mind cleared, she tried to understand what had happened. She had only the vaguest notion of Rampart Street, had heard only whispers about what went on out there, with the loose women, the vicious men, and the wild music. It was no place for a gentleman like her father. And yet he had gone there. Not knowing what was waiting...

    She drank off more of the brandy and noticed there was only a half inch left in her glass. She went for the bottle, telling herself that she had to stop doing this so early in the day. She filled the glass one more time and went back to the window to gaze out at the clouding sky.
    The police officers who had come to the house were courteous but blankly dismissive, assuming that she and her mother were hiding what they knew in order to protect the family name. She saw the glances they exchanged. They thanked her for her time, promised to look into it, and went away, no doubt snickering up their sleeves.
    When Alderman Badel appeared at the wake, his round face composed in bereavement, she took him and the attorney Delouche aside to express her dismay over the police work. Surely, there was something more to the tragedy than some stupid mistake. She told them she wanted to hire someone to look into it. The attorney disapproved. Better to lay it to rest, he had whispered in that craggy voice of his, along with the body. Much to his displeasure, however, the alderman jumped to volunteer his help. The next day he reported that he'd found a man who had worked those same vile back-of-town streets. A regular Pinkerton would barely know where to begin. Anne Marie guessed right away that Badel was somehow serving his own interests as he minded hers. She didn't care; she understood that sometimes things worked that way. One thing led to the next, and Valentin St. Cyr appeared at their door.
    Even through her grief, she couldn't mistake the insolence in his face and posture, as if he had the tragedy and the family that endured it all figured out in advance. Bored, he was there by no choice of his own. He was barely interested, which intrigued her all the more. Indeed, malice came off him like he had a sign on his forehead. He didn't like them, didn't want to be in their home or their employ. Still, she sensed that he was the man for the job, and so she wanted him on it.

    Though she had heard the words "rounder" and