“Earlier today,” I said, “I had the idea to cleanse Desire, fucking torch it.” I met Leon’s gaze. “You’re better at knowing what’s happening on the street. What can I do to help Desire or the Lower Ninth? The gangs here listen, they don’t like it, but they do. Except, fuck, the house that exploded yesterday had three kids. That shit can’t go on.”
“You ain’t going to turn New Orleans into a park. Your daddy and Mrs. Ramses’s daddy knew that. They knew what you know. It’s about men on the ground. And you know who controls those men?”
“Me? Boudreau? Their local leaders?”
Leon scoffed. “You’re getting closer. I ain’t saying it is one hundred percent, but you know who was filling those churches this evening, walking the streets with candles, posting on social media, and saying prayers to gods and spirits in Mrs. Ramses’s name?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “It wasn’t those men. If history means anything, it was the women.”
“Ninety percent. Now, don’t get me wrong. I ain’t saying they’re soft. Hell, there’re tough women out there, ones who’d shoot you as easy as look at you. There’s a salon or two that cleans more cash in this city every month than the gambling boats combined.” He scoffed. “I’ve watched members of gangs get pulled inside their house by their ear. Ain’t no one standing in the way of a momma.
“The women, they know how this city runs as well as their husbands or daddies. They also talk to their husbands and sons. No man worth his weight doesn’t listen. He may not like listening, but if the women be like Tara” —he whistled— “they talk...a lot.”
“And right now,” I said, “you’re telling me that the women of New Orleans in Ramses and Boudreau wards are worried about Emma?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
A new thought came to me. “Leon, if she wasn’t my wife, would I be threatened?”
“You ain’t talking about you, are you?”
“We need to get to her. I’ve been saying Kyle wants her dead. If he hears about this, that piece of shit will take her out like I’ve been saying because she’s his competition. I’m starting to hope that our theory is right and Jezebel is somewhere in this mix.”
Leon nodded toward the front windshield. “Ingalls just arrived.”
Two men got out of a black Cadillac.
“Looks like Boudreau and the ginger aren’t here,” Leon said. “Told you, they’re a distraction.”
“Are you fucking me?” I asked, seeing the car. “Ingalls is driving the same fucking car that took Emma.”
“Then that means that car took her somewhere, left her, and now is back in the city.”
“Get our men moving,” I ordered. “Get his car wired and if Boudreau has a car parked near R’evolution, it better be wired too.” We’ll wait until this meeting is over and we’re following Ingalls back to wherever he goes.
I wanted to watch him die after what he said, but tonight wouldn’t be the night.
He needed to lead us to Emma first.
Emma
Jezebel and I hurried into the house, the screen door slamming as we both came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. Lying on the last steps and onto the wood floor was Edmée. I scanned her, searching for injuries. Her arms and legs appeared intact, bent at the correct angles. There was no blood or sign of trauma. She was simply splayed on the final steps.
“Do you think she fell?” I asked, my hands trembling from the scream and scene.
Jezebel shook her head. “We need to help her.”
Together, we wrapped our arms under hers, not unlike the way Edmée and I had helped Jezebel upon my arrival. Her head wobbled on her neck as we lifted. Edmée couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, yet in her current unconscious state, she wasn’t easy to maneuver.
“It’s the spirits,” Jezebel said. “Sometimes, they’re too much. Tonight, they’re louder than I’ve ever heard.”
“So she fainted?” I asked, trying to make sense of...well...anything.
Jezebel nodded.
Finally, we were able to get Edmée to the sofa in the front sitting room, the same room where we’d found the blankets.
Jezebel crouched in front of her and laid her palms on each side of Edmée’s face, framing the other woman’s cheeks as she spoke. The language wasn’t English, not what she and I had been using. It reminded me of the couple on the back porch. As I listened, I recognized the French influence, but the meanings of the words were lost on me.