The Bourbon Street Ripper (Sins of the Father, Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

safety belt failed to catch a few times before finally clicking in place. Rodger paid it no mind. The department couldn’t afford to give him a raise after five years, so why have them spring for new seat belt latches?
    Damnable budget cuts!
    “All right, I’ll bite,” replied Michael as he effortlessly latched his safety belt in place. “Who is this person? How can they help us?”
    Rodger turned the key in the ignition, and with a roar the Ford Crown Victoria came to life, headlights spilling out over the back of Ursuline Street.
    Putting the vehicle in gear, he replied, “Sam Castille, Vincent’s only living descendant. Sam has some stuff of the doc’s that police never got warrants for during the trial. Some bullshit red tape thrown up by the defense that ultimately did that scumbag no good. If we can get our hands on that stuff, it may help us understand how Vincent thought out his crimes.”
    With a nod, Michael leaned back in his seat, folding his arms thoughtfully. “I see. So we establish a pattern of behavior and use that to predict the copycat’s next move.”
    “Exactly,” replied Rodger with a small smile.
    Michael’s expression was still thoughtful as he asked, “And you think this Sam fellow will help us out?”
    “I hope so,” replied Rodger as he pulled off Ursuline and onto Dauphine Street, passing underneath the balcony where the tourists still watched the gruesome gallery below. “Sam and I… we go way back. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
    In truth, however, the uncertainty was still there, along with a pang in his chest. Sam was a delicate matter to Rodger, but Sam was also the only one who could give Rodger what he needed. It was a real conundrum.
    “Great,” answered Michael as he relaxed and looked out the window. “So where does Sam live?”
    “Uptown,” replied Rodger as he stopped at a stop sign, checking both ways before proceeding forward through the intersection. “Near Tulane University.”
    The rain had started up again, coming down in sheets of water that made visibility nearly zero.
    “Nice area.” Michael looked out the window, before looking over at the clock, blinking a bit, and calling Rodger’s attention to the time. “Will he even be awake at this hour? It’s only three thirty.”
    Rodger chuckled to himself. If he remembered properly, Sam was an incurable night owl. As he turned out to the highway, leaving the French Quarter and its grisly murder behind, Rodger said, “Oh yeah. By the time we get there, Sam will definitely be awake.”
    By now, the summer storm was raging on in full force.

Chapter 2   

Sam of Spades
     
     
Date:
Wednesday, August 5, 1992
Time:
4:00 a.m.
Location:   
Sam Castille’s Townhome
Uptown New Orleans
     
    With a shuddering series of clanks, the door to the medicine cabinet more or less slid open, revealing row after of bottles, each bottle filled with pills. Triazolam, Temazepam, Zolpidem, and other sleep aids shared the shelves with NoDoz, Vivarin, and other pills meant to do the exact opposite.
    Only on the bottom shelf were pills dedicated to functions other than promoting or inhibiting sleep. One such bottle, a bottle of plain aspirin so old the label was half-worn, was the target of Sam Castille’s search.
    Sam spent a moment or two half-opening and closing the cabinet door, listening to the mirror as it shuddered in its track, before finally sliding it all the way open. To Sam, the sound was reminiscent of heavy rain on a tin roof, and that was very relaxing. Finally, with the cabinet completely open, Sam found and snatched up the bottle of aspirin. Then Sam closed the door to the cabinet, coming face-to-face with her own reflection.
    Sam wasn’t pretty by conventional standards. Her face was more gaunt than normal, her cheekbones were too high, and her nose was a little too big. Her blue-gray eyes didn’t shine, and her sandy blond hair wasn’t remarkable, especially pulled back in a tight ponytail as it was. Her