“People saw you and her at August. Some reporters took her picture headed into the courthouse. They’re slapping it all over social media.”
“Fuck.” That wasn’t what I wanted. “That’s why I’ve been getting calls from Michelson and a few detectives at NOPD. I’m not ready to have them nosing around.”
“Probably how they know,” Leon said with a nod. “But, boss, it ain’t like you’re thinking. They’re rallying around her.”
“Rallying? They? Who?”
“Talk is that Mrs. Ramses, she’s married to you and is Ms. North’s daughter. Hell, they have pictures of the two women up on Twitter. Jezebel’s are from some time ago, ‘cause she ain’t been seen for a while.” He shook his head with a smile as he stared down at his phone. Leon looked up. “There ain’t no denying Mrs. Ramses looks like her momma.”
“Wait?” I was trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. “You’re saying Emma’s picture is on social media?”
Fuck. This is why I wanted to keep her home. She didn’t ask for this.
“Boss, the people, they’re worried, even though she ain’t been reported missing—”
“Because like I said, the last fucking thing I need,” I interrupted, “is NOPD sticking their nose where they don’t belong.”
“You said Michelson called? You not trusting him now?”
Exhaling, I met Leon’s gaze. “I did. Right now, I’m not trusting anyone outside my ranks.”
“That’s the thing, boss, the people, they care. They’re worried. I got word earlier tonight; there was a prayer vigil for Mrs. Ramses at St. Charles and another one at Franklin Baptist.”
A prayer vigil?
“Why?”
“You know New Orleans. There’s a saint or a spirit for every need.”
“Emma isn’t dead.”
“Not saying that. They’re worried she’s missing. Hell, we ain’t the only ones who saw the video from the cameras. Those cameras belong to the city. One person gets a copy and posts. The one of her being pushed into the Caddy has over a million views.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this.
It was good, right?
“Saint Anthony,” Leon said.
“Excuse me.”
“He’s the saint of missing people, things too.”
I shook my head. “Miss Guidry was going on earlier about the spirits. Saying my mother talked to Emma, and she’s safe. Of course, my dead mother didn’t relay Emma’s location.” I was growing tired of Miss Guidry’s tales. “What the fuck good are spirits?”
“Boss, don’t you see? You’ve been busy with Mrs. Ramses, Knolls, and Herbert, too. Your mind’s been occupied. The spirits talk but that don’t mean all people listen.”
I had another thought. “Franklin Baptist, that church is in the Lower Ninth.”
“Yes, boss, it is. And they are praying straight to the Lord. All over the city. Different denominations and different people. Like I said, they’re rallying behind Mrs. Ramses.”
Exhaling, I leaned back against the seat. “Well, fuck. The Lower Ninth is Boudreau turf.”
“For seven years, that’s been Ramses territory. They know something else. They know she’s a Boudreau.”
Leon was right. That ward had become Ramses territory, but we both knew there were still those people who had been true to Boudreau for generations and were slow on making the transition. Those were the areas Kyle, a.k.a. Isaiah, had worked the hardest. Pockets of old-timers with young bucks that don’t want change.
I looked out the windows. We were parked in one such area.