Bonfire Masquerade Read online

  “Sybil will understand,” said Frank. “I mean, she wants these guys caught as badly as we do.”

  We all lapsed back into silence. We’d had to walk back and were almost at the hotel. With Mardi Gras in full swing, getting a cab was impossible. I wanted to be out among the costumed partyers, having fun and enjoying the music. Instead we were walking back home in silence, all of us caught up in our own little worlds. To have come so close to solving the case, to catching the criminals, and then have them slip right out of our hands—it was infuriating.

  “Hey Bess.” Nancy had finally managed to get Bess on her cell phone. That was another terrible thing about working this case during a party the size of Mardi Gras—all the cell phone circuits were constantly busy. Unless you were super lucky, it took twenty minutes to make a phone call.

  “Something’s come up. Can you break off your date early? Oh, great. Meet us at Frank and Joe’s hotel.” She shut her phone.

  “What did Bess say?” I asked.

  “Date’s already over. She’s on her way.”

  We walked along in silence again. We beat Bess to the hotel, but only by a few minutes. George and Frank hopped on the computer as soon as we made it back. Nancy paced. I sat on the couch and played catch with one of the cushions. As soon as Bess walked through the door, we pounced on her.

  “What did you learn about Aaron?” Nancy asked.

  “Look at this,” I said, tossing the costume at her. She caught it reflexively, without even noticing me.

  “What happened to you guys?” she asked. “You look beat!”

  I forgot that we’d all been injured in the crowd. We probably looked a mess. No wonder we’d gotten so many odd looks on the way back.

  Nancy explained everything. While she did, Bess absentmindedly examined the costume, feeling the fabric carefully with her fingers.

  “Sounds like I missed out on all the adventure. What was the place that got hit, anyway?”

  “Looks like it used to be a deli,” answered George from the computer. “It closed down a few months ago. The family was living in an illegal apartment upstairs.”

  “Let’s hope that explains why the gang didn’t know they were there,” added Frank. “This was the first time they hit somewhere while people were home. I’d hate for that to become their new pattern.”

  “It makes no sense,” I said. “What are they getting out of this?” I punched the pillow in frustration.

  “What about you? Learn anything about Aaron?” asked Nancy.

  “Tons. But not applicable to the case. He took me to his office. See that building over there?” Bess pointed out the window to the one genuine skyscraper on the New Orleans skyline.

  “His office is on, like, the nine hundredth floor of that building. It has an amazing view. Everything inside it is glass and light wood. Looks really Swedish. He showed me his plans for the city, and all the projects he’s working on. He’s a real workaholic. Plus, he likes to hear himself talk.”

  Bess paused for a moment and looked down at her hands, as though she had just realized what she was holding. “What’s this, anyway?”

  We explained where the costume had come from. Bess started to examine it more carefully.

  “One thing I can tell you is that whoever owned this had money. This is expensive velvet, good dye job. The stitching? That’s real gold thread. And all of this was done by hand. This is a one-of-a-kind, couture costume.”

  “Stolen,” said Frank. “Must have been. Maybe from one of the earlier robberies?”

  Bess shook her head. “Not possible. See these tears here in the fabric? Someone pulled this costume off in a hurry. But it fit them perfectly. If this wasn’t tailored to them, there would be lots of places where it didn’t fit right, and the seams would have burst all over. Whoever was wearing this had it made for them.”

  “It fits with what Sybil told us,” I said. “They’re not in this for the money. Nicole’s got cash—and her store was full of costumes.”

  “Yeah, but those costumes were cheap, mass-produced things,” said Nancy. “Aaron’s pretty well off too. Both of them wanted to buy Daniel’s property, and they were there when he was killed.”

  “But none of this really connects them with all the attacks,” I added.

  “There is one rich kid who we know has good taste in costumes,” said George, from over at the computer. “And whose cell phone is already connected to the crimes.”

  “Andrew!” we all burst out.

  “Bingo,” said George. “And though he might not be connected to Daniel, you’d be amazed what else he is connected with. Drunk and disorderly charges, public nuisance, vandalism. The guy’s got a rap sheet of minor crimes a mile long.”

  “How do you know that?” said Nancy, amazed.

  “The Louisiana Department of Justice keeps very thorough, web-accessible records.” George smiled. “Want to see his mug shot?”

  “What if his phone wasn’t stolen?” I said. “What if he’s part of the gang, and he dropped it, and made up that cover story when the police showed up?”

  “It would explain why he never reported it stolen!” said Frank.

  “It would also mean he was a lot smarter than I would have guessed,” muttered Nancy under her breath. We all laughed.

  “Sounds like we need some proof,” I said. “And since Andrew isn’t likely to give it to us, that means a little reconnaissance—the kind best done at night.”

  I smiled. There had been far too little spy stuff on this case so far.

  “Bess, can you call Aaron?” said Nancy. “Tell him I thought Andrew was cute, and see if he can arrange a triple date for us, with someone for George.”

  “Ugh,” said George. “Make that a double date. I’ll help you guys with Andrew. Do you have any wireless cameras? Remember the recent case we told you about, where we used a mic setup? If I can wire the two of you up, I can work from this end and look up anything you might find.”

  “Good idea,” said Frank. “You can also help us out with any security he might have. We’ve got a wireless camera in our standard ATAC kit.”

  In short order, plans were made with Aaron to ensure that Andrew would be out of his house tonight. So long as Frank and I avoided the butler, we’d be able to look around for a while.

  With our plans set, all that was left to do was wait. Nancy and Bess went to get ready for their “dates.” An hour after they left, we got a text from Nancy asking us to join them later—that was the signal we had prearranged to let us know that Andrew was with them. The coast was clear.

  Joe and I dressed in all black, including special black gloves and masks that ATAC had given us. On a normal night, we might have stood out, but this was Mardi Gras, and no one paid us any attention on the street.

  Andrew’s house looked different with the lights off and the gates closed. It looked scary, like something out of a horror movie, but it also looked like the butler and any other servants were out. In fact, the whole block seemed quiet tonight. Apparently, the parties were somewhere else this evening.

  We circled the house. The fence extended around it in all directions, ten feet high and topped with spikes. And were those …

  “Look,” I said to Frank, careful to point only with my eyes. Casually, Frank turned his head.

  “Motion detectors,” he said.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said.

  “I see them,” said George through my earpiece. “Joe, can you turn so I can get a look at the front door? Most security companies put up stickers there. It’ll give us an idea of what we’re dealing with.”

  “On it,” I replied. I was glad we had her with us.

  “Okay, got it,” said George. “Give me a few minutes.” The microphone went quiet.

  Around the back of the house we found a big backyard. Thankfully, one corner of it was overgrown with cypress trees. They would provide us some cover for climbing. And there was a set of patio doors that should be easy to jimmy open. Now if Geo
rge could take care of the cameras, we’d be set.

  “All right, it’s a LockJaw system,” said George. “This will be easy. Do you know where you’ll be coming in?”

  “The backyard,” I whispered.

  “Are you guys in position?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. On the count of five, the cameras are going to go down for twenty seconds due to a localized power outage. Any longer than that and the alarms go off automatically, so move fast.”

  I counted down under my breath. Right on five, the little red dots on the cameras went out, and they stopped swiveling on their bases.

  “Go!” I said to Frank. “We’ve got twenty seconds.”

  Twenty, nineteen, eighteen … I counted in my head.

  We raced to the cover of the trees and threw ourselves on the fence. We were up and over in record time, racing for the house.

  Thirteen, twelve, eleven …

  That was when the dogs hit us.

  They came streaking out of nowhere, two all-black Doberman pinschers. They opened their mouths to bark, but no sound came out. They must have had their voice boxes removed, something people frequently did when they had dogs that were meant not to just scare people away—but to hurt them.

  I pushed a button on the base of my glove. I could feel the sudden tingle in my hands as they powered up, just in time. One of the dogs jumped at me. I ducked and swatted it on its side. A blue spark leaped from my hand. The dog whined once, and then passed out. The Taser had worked perfectly. The dog was down, but breathing. A few feet away, I saw Frank do the same. They’d wake up in two hours with a slight bruise.

  Five, four, three …

  We made it to the patio, and I already knew we were too late. We had three seconds to get the lock open before the motion sensors turned on and the alarms went off. There was no way we could pick a lock in that time.

  Thankfully, we didn’t have to. Frank grabbed the door—and it slid right open. We slipped inside and closed it behind us, right as the detectors came back to life.

  “Best security systems in the world are useless if you don’t remember to lock the doors,” whispered George in my ear, her laughter barely contained.

  The house was dark on the inside. We slipped on our masks. In the hole where the eye should be was a carefully constructed infrared lens, made out of a flexible plastic. With the masks on, the inside of the house was lit with a dim red light.

  “According to his contract with LockJaw, there are no detectors within the house. Looks like anyone who works for him has the night off for Mardi Gras. So get to it!” said George.

  We didn’t need any more encouragement. We started at the bottom of the house and planned to work our way up, but we didn’t even have to.

  The fourth door we opened was clearly an office of some kind. Or really, a trophy room. The walls were covered with photos—Andrew with a gun standing over a dead deer. Andrew with his arm around various beautiful women. Andrew shaking the hand of Louisiana’s governor.

  And there, on one whole wall, were photos of buildings on fire.

  “Are you getting this?” I asked George.

  “Already matching them up with the police files. Those are our robberies. Good job, guys!”

  Andrew was our man. Or at least, one of them.

  CHAPTER 13

  NANCY KNOCKING THE CASE OUT

  At any moment I thought I might scream. Never had I been so horribly tortured. It just went on and on and on.

  “And then, remember that time in 2007? All the monkeys? That was the best ball ever.”

  Andrew droned on and on about Mardi Gras parties and costumes and insane cakes and famous guests. It was like listening to the gossip column in some local newspaper being read on repeat. And we were only on our appetizers. At least the restaurant we were at was nice. It was a weird old barbecue joint way out in the middle of nowhere. It was named, appropriately enough, the Joint. And the food was good.

  Aaron wasn’t much help. He and Bess were chatting quietly with each other on the other side of the table, leaving me stranded with Andrew, who seemed to assume that I liked the sound of his voice as much as he obviously did.

  I stared at my fork, idly wondering if I could somehow stab myself accidentally and get to go to the hospital.

  “I said, don’t you just love the Royal We?”

  I snapped to attention. For once, Andrew was actually asking me a question!

  “Yeah, I—”

  “Right? They’re great. They played at my birthday last year.”

  I thought about telling him I knew Kijani, the lead singer of the Royal We. But I doubted he would even notice I was still talking.

  I knew this was important, that by getting Andrew out of his house we were helping to solve the case, but man, would I much rather have been the one breaking in!

  “Aaron throws the best parties, of course. Don’t you, Aaron? He even threw a huge party immediately after Katrina. There can be no excuse, he says, for canceling a party. Right?”

  Aaron shrugged. “Please, you flatter me. I try to make my own little additions to the social calendar of the city, that’s all.”

  “You’ll be coming to his ball tomorrow, of course,” Andrew said to Bess and me. “Aaron’s providing all the costumes! He won’t tell us what the theme is. It’s unheard of. Who knows what he’ll have us dressed up as? Buildings, probably. My outfit better fit right, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. Andrew took a deep breath, probably to complain again, and I saw my chance.

  “So, Aaron,” I said, cutting Andrew off and leaning across the table. “Bess tells me you have big plans for New Orleans?”

  Aaron smiled. “Yes!” he said. “I’ve always loved this city, but it’s stuck in the past. It needs to join the twenty-first century. And I am just the person to bring it there. I have a ten-year plan to put this city on the map, architecturally. To make it a … a shining beacon for modern architecture!”

  “You must be excited at the possibility of having Daniel’s place to work on.”

  “The sadness of his death makes excitement seem wrong. But it will be the first property I work on that I own outright,” he responded. “So I am excited. If I get it.”

  “Since Nicole dropped out of the bidding, I can’t see how you wouldn’t get it. You’re the only serious offer out there!”

  “Nicole what?”

  “She dropped out. I mean, that’s what she told me.”

  “You were talking with her?”

  “Yeah,” I said. This was not where I wanted the conversation to go. The last thing I wanted was to tip off Andrew to the investigation. “Just helping my dad out some.”

  “Nancy has a way of ferreting out information,” said Bess. “She’s got quite the reputation for crime solving back in River Heights.”

  Was I mistaken, or did Andrew twitch when Bess mentioned crimes?

  “Interesting,” said Aaron. His eyes had a faraway look in them, as though he was looking right through me. He shook his head and snapped back to attention.

  “I didn’t know that. I guess this is a celebratory dinner, then!” He raised his glass in a toast. “To the future of New Orleans.”

  We clinked glasses. I did my best to keep him on the topic of the city, which was infinitely more interesting than hearing about Andrew’s outfit at his twenty-first birthday party. I could sense Andrew pouting next to me, but I ignored him as best I could.

  Halfway through dinner, a text arrived from Joe.

  “Keep them there! On our way!”

  A tingle went through my spine. If they were headed to the restaurant, it could mean only one thing: They’d found some evidence linking Andrew to the crimes. He would be in custody before the night was over.

  If I could put up with him for that long. I tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Andrew describe the haircut he was going to get for the party tomorrow, which was like his haircut now, but shorter.
But not too much shorter. Just a little bit shorter.

  I leaned across the table to Bess.

  “I think Frank, Joe, and George might be dropping by for dessert,” I whispered.

  Bess smiled. She knew what that meant. “Awesome!”

  Ten minutes later, the door to the Joint swung open, and in they walked. Andrew shut up immediately.

  “What are you doing here?” he said, standing up from the table.

  “Andrew Richelieu? We have reason to believe that you’ve been involved with the robbery and arson of thirteen different properties in the city. We’ve notified the police, and they will be at your house with a search warrant by the time you get home,” said Joe, with obvious relish.

  “What? This is ridiculous. I’m calling my lawyer.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Frank. “If you cooperate, and give us the names of the other people involved, we are willing to offer you a deal.”

  “Aaron, help me out here,” said Andrew, looking desperate. “This is preposterous.”

  They must have found proof! This was great. We’d have this case wrapped up by tomorrow.

  “Aaron,” said Bess. “Talk to him. Tell him to come clean. Frank and Joe are friends of ours—they’ll help him.”

  Aaron stood up. His wolf-yellow eyes turned cold.

  “Andrew, they’ve got you. You should do the right thing. Turn yourself in. You need help. Trust me.”

  Andrew flushed with rage. “What? How dare you!”

  With no warning, he flung himself across the table at Aaron. The two of them went down in a heap. The table was smashed. The dishes went flying. A waiter came running out of the kitchen, took one look at the scene, and ran back inside.

  Andrew had his hands around Aaron’s throat. Bess and I rushed over to pull Andrew off him, but before we could, Aaron rolled over and slammed Andrew to the ground.

  By the time we separated them, Andrew was unconscious.

  I checked his pulse. It was weak. I slapped his cheek, but he didn’t respond.

  “Get an ambulance!” I yelled. “He’s unconscious.”