Fairbanks bobbed his head. “Yeah, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Well,” Bailey began, “I sure don’t think we’re talkin’ about jus’ your av’rage hooker did dis though.”

“That was my thought too, what with the level of torture and all. Are you thinking maybe gang retribution or something on that order?”

“Naw, I doubt dat. Not da’ kinda gang you mean, anyway. Dere’s more goin’ on here than ya’ think.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Lookit ‘is chest,” he offered, pointing.

Detective Fairbanks pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned in to look. After a moment of inspection, an intricate pattern became obvious even through the wide swath of dried blood and random burn marks covering the dead man’s skin. The longer he looked, the more it revealed itself, until it formed what appeared to be a crosshatched heart pierced by a long dagger or sword.

“So our killer is a bit of an artist, then?”

Bailey let out another of his trademark whistles. “Cheef, dat’s not jus’ art. Dat dere is a veve. Air-zoo-LEE Don-toe. Whoever done dis did more than jus’ kill dis guy. Dey put a gris-gris on ‘im.”

Fairbanks looked closer at the intricate incisions then leaned back and sighed. Shaking his head he muttered, “Yeah. Okay. I’m definitely gonna need a translator.”

Thursday, December 1

1:12 A.M.

Room 16

Airline Courts Motel

Metairie, Louisiana

CHAPTER 1:

The last time I had been to New Orleans I was with Felicity, and we had come here on vacation… Well, it was actually a working vacation on her part, as she had been hired by an architectural magazine to shoot pictures for an upcoming layout featuring several of the more artful buildings in the city. Still, there had been plenty of time for relaxation, which was more than I could say for my current visit.