From: GeoRed Date: 26 Apr 1998 02:37:23 GMT Subject: The Garden District Murders (1 of 16) The Garden District Murders Chapter 1 of 16 Author: GeoRed@aol.com (a.k.a. Heidi W.) Rating: Most of the Chapters will be PG-13 but some will be labeled R or NC-17; they are individually labeled. This one is PG-13. Classification: X-File, Angst, M/S strong UST (One of my beta readers says I am walking a fine line between UST and MSR) Spoilers: Mild references to 3, Darkness Falls, Redux II but nothing that spoils any plots (IMO). Several references to Anne Rice's various works of fiction as it relates to New Orleans. Authors Notes: Give me a chance here, it starts a little slow. With the exception of the street addresses of many of the characters homes, most of the information regarding New Orleans is, to the best of my knowledge, true. I know the streets and *some* of the houses used, but don't have a clue about the street address. I also have no idea if there is a 4th precinct or a Mercy Hospital, I made 'em up. If a native sees that I have made an error, please feel free to correct me. Some of this information was obtained (as Mulder says) on a Web ring called "Virtual New Orleans", especially the graveyard stuff. Much of the information I have gleaned from natives such as hotel concierges (including my brother), bartenders, cab drivers and various tour operators. Mulder's favorite places and much of what he shows to Scully are my favorite pastimes when in the city. I love New Orleans and visit regularly......but, like Mulder says, you will either love it or hate it. I highly recommend the Vampire, Witches and Voodoo Tour that is run out of Jean Lafittes Blacksmith Shop......very scary and informative. Special Thanks: To my beta readers (Lynx Mulderite, Redames, Taycey, Hoops and Hoffygirl) Disclaimer: Anyone that you recognize was created by Chris Carter and 1013 Productions except for references to the Vampire Lestat or the Mayfair family who were created by Anne Rice. Anything you don't recognize was created by me. I don't own anything, so don't bother to sue. And I ain't making any money of this little work of fiction, so why bother. Summary: Mulder and Scully attempt to solve a serial murder case in New Orleans. Whether they actually solve it or not is open to interpretation. Chapter 1 St. Charles Street Car at Canal Street New Orleans, Louisiana March 15, 1998 11:05 p.m. Chris sat in the nearly empty street car as it made its way up St. Charles Avenue towards Tulane University. He was tired from a long day at work and then the requisite happy hour at Good Friends bar. New Orleans would be the death of him if he didn't cut down on the partying with his friends every night after work. he thought. His last lover had been wonderful, but had moved to Washington, D.C. for a better job. He was lonely. She could tell by looking at him. He was also beautiful and young, so young. Probably 21 years old. She smiled. Chris looked up and noticed a woman staring at him. She smiled at him. He smiled back, very slightly. She was quite lovely, but older than he by several years. He laughed quietly to himself. She didn't realize that she was looking at the *wrong* guy. He was intrigued by this, by her. Clarice saw him smile, laugh and took it as a cue. She got up and walked carefully up to him and sat down. "Well, you haven't been in town long. Just visiting?" asked Chris. "How did you know that?" Chris just laughed. "You haven't learned the art of walking on a moving streetcar." "Would you come home with me?" asked Clarice. She figured there was no use beating around the bush and they were going to have to get off before the end of the line. "Uhhh......you mean to your hotel?" Chris said, stalling for time. "No, actually, I just moved here. I have a house in the Garden District." "Are you always this forward?" "I know what I like and I am not afraid to ask for it." "I am truly sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, miss......." "Clarice" "......Clarice. But I am just not into one night stands or casual sex. Especially not in this town." he thought to himself. Clarice leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure?" She planted little kisses along his jawline. "Listen, Clarice, I am really not...." She placed her finger against his luscious lips and then replaced her finger with her own lips. Her lips moved over his and she opened her mouth, running her tongue along his lower lip. He pulled away and took a deep breath. He felt dizzy and, to his complete amazement, aroused. Clarice smiled at his discomfiture. She reached past him and over his head to pull the cord to request the next stop. The streetcar rumbled and clanged to a stop at Tulane across from Audubon Park. Clarice got up and moved to the front of the car, pausing near the door to glance back at Chris, smiling. Chris looked at her and felt an inexorable pull. It started in his groin and tingled through his nerve endings. He got up and moved quickly to the front of the car, out the door and into the darkness. Clarice was already across the street, heading into the park. He followed her, thinking that he would at least see her home, make sure she was safe. Clarice walked through the large open area at the front of the park. It was a typical spring evening in New Orleans. Warm and humid, the air was heavy but not unpleasant. She loved New Orleans, with its blooming Magnolia trees hung with Spanish moss. Everything was so old, almost decrepit and moldering. From the mansions in the Garden District to the crumbling above ground crypts in the numerous cemeteries. She smiled to herself again. . Clarice strolled under the huge Magnolia tree and walked around the thick trunk, stepping carefully over the roots. She noted that Chris was following her at a discreet distance and felt a sudden excitement in the pit of her stomach. Chris stepped under the tree and saw her leaning against the trunk, one strap of her sundress slipping off of her shoulder. She raised her hand and crooked her finger at him. He walked slowly toward her, almost as if he couldn't help himself. Maybe, he couldn't......... ****************** F.B.I. Headquarters Washington D.C. March 20, 1998 8:00 a.m. Special Agent Dana Scully strolled into the basement office she shared with her partner. For some reason she did not like what she saw when she entered the room, but she couldn't immediately put her finger on what the problem was. Her partner was sitting in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk next to a little pile of sunflower seed husks. He was fiddling absently with a pencil, twirling it with his long, elegant fingers. He looked up and smiled at her. His slide projector was out of the box, set up on its stand in the middle of the floor. The slide projector meant one of two things. Either Frohike had gotten a hold of some new type of pornography or *he* had a new case. Scully really liked her partner, but his timing was lousy. "Hey, Scully." The smile on his face got bigger. Scully's stomach sank. "Mulder, it's Friday." "My, you have been honing those observational skills, haven't you Scully." "Mulder, I have plans for this weekend." Mulder's smile faltered and his stomach did a little flip. "Scully, I have no earthly idea why you are telling me this." "Well, Mulder, the slide projector is out of its box. You have a shit-eating grin plastered to your face. You are twitching. And I am not the idiot you take me for." Mulders lower lip took on a distinctly pouty look. Scully knew, just knew that she was in trouble. "Scully, did you ever wonder where the expression 'shit eating grin' came from? I mean really, if you were eating shit, would you be grinning? I don't think I would be." "Mulder, cut the crap." Fox Mulder nearly fell over. He honestly could not tell if Scully knew what she said. He wanted to explode with laughter but if she hadn't said that on purpose and he blew his cool he would never convince her to go with him. He struggled for composure. She did that on purpose. He never took her for an idiot. Scully knew she had got him. She struggled desperately to hide her grin when she saw the look on his face. Whether or not she would get out of this case was a different story. She didn't want out of it all together, all she wanted was a little delay. Like until Monday. "So Scully. Big date this weekend?" Mulder did not want to hear the answer but he couldn't seem to help but ask. "Mulder. We were out of town last weekend and the first part of this week. I have not cleaned my apartment in weeks. I have not seen my mother in a month. I have lost touch with my friends and I have not had a date in a really long time. Is it too much to ask to have a weekend to try and reconnect with my life?" She was starting to get a little pissed. Why couldn't he just tell her what was going on. She was right, he knew. *They* did not have to get into this over the weekend. He *had* sort of taken over her life, or what was left of it. Sure, she made her own choices but Scully was a loyal, hard working woman. She would not leave him to work a case on his own. He suddenly felt very guilty about his obsession with work and its impact on her life. He made a decision. Scully watched him and could read him like a book. She saw the impact of not just her words, but her tone of voice. He looked hurt, resigned and guilty all in the span of about three seconds. Then she saw him decide to let her off the hook. "So Mulder, where are we going this time?" She smiled, slightly, softening her expression. If there was one thing worse than working constantly and losing track of her life, it was Mulder going off on his own. He had a habit of getting shot, stabbed and beaten up when she wasn't around. It wasn't like she was a good luck charm or anything. He was just more careful when she was around. Most of the time, anyway. The decision was made. She liked his ass just the way it was.......alive. Mulder debated. This was one of those no win situations. He could just tell her to meet him in New Orleans on Monday and leave her the file to read over the weekend or he could tell her about it now and assume she would be coming with him. Option number one would piss her off and make her feel left out, like he was ditching her. Option number two would piss her off and make her feel like he was taking her for granted. Option number two would more likely *not* result in him getting shot. Well, since he was screwed either way he may as well take the safer option. "Scully, have you ever been to New Orleans?" **************** 4th Precinct, New Orleans Police Department New Orleans, Louisiana Same Day, 3:03 p.m. Alex DuMont walked into the precinct house with a look that could kill. She marched over to Lieutenant McIntyre, crossed her arms over her chest, and stood there staring at him until he was forced to recognize her presence. "Kelly, get out there and continue surveillance until I say you can stop. Now, go!" He watched the retreating officer as if he were reluctant to acknowledge Alex's presence. He knew exactly what her problem was, the question was how to address it diplomatically. "Lieutenant, please stop ignoring me." Alex was getting more pissed by the minute and his attitude certainly wasn't helping. "What the hell is going on, Joe? This was my case, Monahan and I are doing just fine handling it ourselves. Dammit, why are you doing this to me?" Lieutenant Joe McIntyre looked at Alex with what he hoped was a placating expression. "Alex, this case is turning into a serial thing with a very bizarre MO. I just think that *we* are out of our depth on this one. So, I called a buddy at the F.B.I. and he recommended this guy. Says his nickname is 'Spooky' and that he specializes in this sort of thing. This is still your case, you are in charge. This guy is a consult, coming in to give you help." He looked at Alex and wondered if he should continue. "Alex, this is not about doing something to you. I am not questioning your abilities. *But* this thing is getting out of hand and we want to solve it as fast as possible so no one else dies." "There have been 3 murders so far, that is hardly out of hand. We can solve this if you give us half a chance." Joe raised his eyebrows and just looked at her. Alex replayed her statement over in her head and realized how crass she sounded. "Alex, these three murders fit a definite pattern with some sort of ritualistic overtones. They have occurred over a two week period.......that is too many in a short period of time. If this continues we will have a city wide panic on our hands. This is not something we can afford right now with tourist season getting into full swing." Joe went in for the kill. "This will not hurt your chances for promotion, Alex." He was rewarded with a visible flinch from Alex. "I was not worried about *that* Joe. I just felt like you were underestimating us." Alex's pride was wounded and she didn't want to be shown up by a Fibbie. She had decided that she had better just give in......like she had a choice in the matter. "So, what's this guys name anyway?" "Mulder. Special Agent Fox Mulder. When I spoke to him on the phone he said that he would probably bring his partner, Agent Scully." Alex sighed and decided that she just better make the best of it. Like she had a choice in the matter. Well, maybe this guy would be a stay-in-the-office type. She looked at Joe. "When do they get here?" **End Chapter 1** CHAPTER 2 Somewhere Over the Southeastern U.S. March 20, 1998, 6:15 p.m. "O.K. Mulder. Why don't you tell me about this case.....now." "Scully, I showed you the slides......" "Mulder, those slides were of what I can only assume was New Orleans scenery with a couple of dead bodies thrown in. You have told me nothing about the murders. What are you hiding?" Mulder gave her the wounded look. "Less than two weeks ago the first victim, male, age 16 was found in an alley behind the church located on the corner of Sixth Street and St. Charles Avenue. Four days later, a 17 year old male was found in Carrollton behind a place called the Maple Leaf. The latest victim was found in Audubon Park, a 21 year old male." Mulder paused, considering how to continue. "The obvious similarities are that all of these are very young men, all found in the Uptown section of New Orleans. All three victims showed evidence of very recent sexual intercourse, which appears to be consensual." Mulder paused. "This appears to be an ordinary serial killer, Mulder. Why are we involved?" Scully just knew that he was holding onto the more pertinent details......those that make this case an X-File. "Well, Scully, this is where it gets interesting. Each of these men....or boys....were found naked and exsanquinated. There were no signs of a struggle. The only signs of violence were two puncture wounds in the the neck near the jugular vein." He watched Scully for her reaction. He was not suprised when her eyebrow rose and she gave him the characteristic 'look'. "Oh Mulder. Exsanguination? Puncture wounds on the neck? New Orleans? What, are we talking the Vampire Lestat here?" Scully couldn't believe her ears. "Scully! You read Anne Rice? No way. Not my enigmatic Dr. Scully." Mulder was thrilled with this little tidbit of information. "So Scully, you remember Lestat's favorite victims? But Lestat never had sex with any of his victims. Anne Rice's vampires were very erotic creatures but they never had actual sex, the taking of blood was akin to a sexual experience for them, though." "Yes. I read her "Vampire Chronicles" when I was in college. That does *not* mean I believe in vampires. It is fiction, Mulder. Good fiction, in my opinion, but still fiction." Mulder considered telling her about his previous vampire experiences. "Scully, I never expected you to believe in vampires, but there are some very strange murders occurring there and they requested our help. Just think of it, Scully. You have never been to New Orleans and I can show you around. We will make some sightseeing time. It'll be fun, Scully." "We *never* have time for sightseeing. I seem to recall a certain football game that we never got to attend." "But, I have wanted to see New Orleans ever since reading Anne Rice's books. So......" "I am gonna make sure that you see all my favorite New Orleans places. I just know you will love it as much as I do. We can investigate during the day, and sightsee during the evening." Mulder was too excited. Scully sighed heavily. They almost never got to do any kind of sight seeing. For that matter, they almost never were in areas that invited sightseeing. Mulder gets totally involved in a case and loses complete track of time. It will be midnight or later before he even realizes that the day is gone. New Orleans. Every time she heard those two words she thought romance, spanish moss, humidity, mansions and heat. Heat. Romance. Magnolias. This is going to be a dangerous case.......in more ways than one. "Do you know New Orleans well Mulder?" "I have been there a couple of times. Once on an old case, back when I was working with Reggie. Nothing with that paranormal odor to it though. Scully, you won't believe this town. You will either love it or hate it. It is a mystical town with great history. It is so old and crumbling in places but so beautiful. It is haunting and haunted. Everywhere you turn there is a ghost story to be told. Vampires and voodoo run the French Quarter. The cemeteries are tourist attractions. You can stay up all night dancing to jazz and the blues and then go for cafe au lait. We can wander through the Garden District and ride the streetcar. Did you know that the St. Charles Street car is the oldest operating streetcar line in the United States? The food is fantastic, creole, cajun ......Scully, if we are smart we will manage to take a couple of days once we solve this case." Mulder took a deep breath. He couldn't quite believe how all of that had poured out of his mouth. He was looking forward to spending some time with his partner in one of the most romantic yet spooky cities he had ever visited. Despite her skeptical view of this case, Scully found herself becoming completely charmed by his rambling description of New Orleans. He was obviously excited by New Orleans although she had a feeling that it had more to do with its mythical history than it did the food and the dancing. She really hoped that they could take some time. ************************ The Mystic Cafe Magazine Street New Orleans, Louisiana March 20, 1998. 8:15 p.m. Clay walked into the cafe and headed for an empty table by the windows. He sat down to wait for Cathy. Almost immediately he spotted the beautiful, thirtyish, blond on the other side of the room and his pulse picked up. He looked out the windows and wished Cathy would hurry up. He glanced back across the cafe at the blond again. At that instant she looked up and caught him staring. He was mortified to feel himself blush and looked quickly back out the window. Clarice had looked up from her coffee to see the young man staring at her. He was tall, blond and gorgeous. Just the way she liked them. Unfortunately, he was also about 26 years old. She decided to forget about him. Not only did she doubt her seductive powers on a man this old, but she came to the Mystic all the time....a virtual regular. She got up and moved slowly across the room. Clay looked up, startled, when she slid into the chair opposite him. She smiled and he felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach which moved rapidly down to his groin. "Hello.......I'm Clarice. You are?" "Engaged." "I see. How does your fiancee feel about you staring at other women?" "Look, lady......" "Clarice." "Clarice, I am expecting my fiancee any minute now. I am really sorry I was staring at you, I didn't mean anything by it. Really." Cathy was an understanding young woman but being found sitting with this knockout would push the most understanding of fiancees to their limits. Clay was starting to sweat. Clarice just laughed. "Relax, honey. I was not upset by your staring. I was actually hoping to get to know you better.....much better." Clarice was pleased to note that her characteristic bluntness was having the desired effect. Clay's mouth was slightly agape. As she crossed her legs, she ran one foot up the inside of his calf, lightly. "Perhaps we could meet later.......after you see your fiancee?" "I am sorry, no. I am flattered.....but, uh, I love Cathymyfiancee and I......wouldn't do something.......like *that*.......to her." Why did that seem so hard to say with Clarice staring at him so intently? The tip of Clarice's foot was resting gently on the inside of his left knee. She moved it back and forth slightly. Clay's pants instantly got tighter. Suddenly, she uncrossed her legs and stood up. "O.K. It was nice to meet you......" "Clay" "It was *very* nice to meet you Clay." All the air in Clay's lungs seemed to whoosh out in one breath. "It was nice to meet you, too." he gasped as she walked away. At that moment, he saw Cathy walk in the door and look around for him. He tried desperately to collect himself and hoped to hell that his erection was not plainly visible. Clarice was not entirely happy. She watched as Clay's eyes widened and looked at the door. She had noted Clay's difficulty breathing when she got up and she had seen the telltale bulge. She watched as Clay's face got redder as his fiancee approached the table. She realized that she had an effect on him but was not at all surprised by her inability to seduce him away from his girlfriend. He was just too old. She could not sway or control older men, especially those with girlfriends. Not to mention that she always seemed to pick the good hearted and faithful type. She was still too immature herself. A mere fledgling. She sighed, disappointed. She had to be sure that the men she chose would do everything exactly her way, otherwise it would just be sex. Hell, if that was all she wanted there certainly wouldn't be a problem. She thought back to Chris. This desire for an older man was entirely his fault. He had followed her easily enough, but when it came time for him to surrender his will to her, he had been so very strong and resistant, not wanting anything to do with her. It made her doubt her abilities. Then, when he finally succumbed, the sensations had been overwhelming. She craved it again, the challenge, the feelings of power and total control over an unwilling man. A man considerably larger and physically stronger than her. She could feel him in her mind, fighting her. She could feel him inside her, thrusting, against his will. She could remember how it felt when they came, together. They lay on the ground together, afterwards, and he still fought her. Not physically, no, she had control over him. But she could hear him screaming in her head, trying to get away from her. He turned his head and she lowered her lips to his throat........... "More coffee, Clarice?" Clarice jumped about a foot out of her chair, startled back into the present. "God, Larry! You scared the hell out of me!" Larry just chuckled, pouring her another cup. "Cher, you looked like you wuz a million miles away just now. What wuz you day dreamin' about, anyhow? New boyfriend?" "Not exactly, Larry." She gave him a small smile. He grinned back and walked away. "I understand, dawlin'. I understand." "No, Larry, I don't think you do." ********** Ramada Inn St. Charles Avenue New Orleans, Louisiana. Same Day, same time. As Mulder pulled the rental car up to the entrance of the hotel, a bell boy and the concierge ran out to meet them. "Mulder, a concierge and a bell boy? This hotel isn't down to your usual standards." Scully couldn't help smiling. Mulder looked at her with a lopsided grin. "I tried, Scully but this was the cheapest hotel I could get. I know you will have a hard time enjoying your stay here, what with the laundry service, room service and various other amenities. Geez, Scully, they even valet park." The bell boy took their bags into the lobby with Mulder and Scully right behind him. Scully looked around while Mulder checked in and was very pleased with what she saw. In fact, she was fairly certain that she was going to like New Orleans. The drive from the airport was extremely dull for the first few miles, flat and boring. Then they drove past the first cemetery. It was rather disappointing. It looked so......pristine. All of the above ground crypts looked well kept and white. She had remarked on the condition of the cemetery and how it was not what she expected. She got a surprising history lesson from Mulder. "Well Scully that is the newest cemetery in New Orleans, Mt. Olivet. It was originally started in the 1920's. Notice how we are on the very outskirts of town?" She nodded. "All New Orleans cemetaries were started on what was the outskirts of town at the time of their construction. You know that the French Quarter was the original town of New Orleans." She nodded again. "In 1721 the first cemetery, St. Louis Number One, was constructed on the outskirts of what is now the French Quarter. This cemetery not only houses many of the participants in the Battle of New Orleans, but the Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau supposedly rests here. People visit her tomb and burn candles and hold voodoo ceremonies to this day." Mulder looked sideways in time to see Scully roll her eyes. He grinned and kept going. "As the city continued to grow, so did the need for additional burial places. St. Louis Number Two was built just up the street from Number One. Unfortunately, this is now a high crime area so most people don't visit. St. Louis Number Three is at the foot of Esplanade Avenue near the Bayou St. John and the Holy Rosary Church." At this point they had driven past St. Louis Number Two and she had immediately revised her impressions. It was extremely eerie in the dusk, surrounded by trees hung with Spanish moss. "You may not realize this, but the Creoles lived in the Quarter, or Vieux Carre. When the Americans came, not only were they unwelcome in the French speaking part of town, but they didn't care for the European-style homes and streets of the Quarter. So, they moved upriver, or west, from the Quarter to what is called Uptown. Uptown extends from Canal Street to Carrollton and includes the Central Business District, or CBD, and the Garden District, in addition to several other neighborhoods. Naturally, the Americans needed their own cemetery. That would be Lafayette Number One, my very favorite cemetery." "You have a favorite cemetery, Mulder?" She looked at him like he was mildly insane. "Ah, Scully, you just don't understand......but you will. Remember the Vampire Lestat? Well, this is where his resting place is located as are the Mayfair Family tombs." "You mean, this is where they would be.....if they were real" she said, attempting to remind him of the fictional nature of these characters. "Oh, Scuuulleee. Ya spoil sport." He grinned to let her know he was only teasing. "Anyway, as I was saying, Lafayette is located in the Garden District and was started in 1832. This cemetery consists of mostly families of Irish and German extraction. I'll take you there, it is very close to our hotel. It is also a short walk from Anne Rice's house, you know, the one she on which she based The Witching Hour." Scully just raised an eyebrow at him. "You know why they place their dead in above-ground crypts, don't ya Scully?" "Yes. New Orleans has a very high water table. In some places New Orleans is actually a foot or two below sea level. If they buried their dead, the coffins would float right up out of the ground." Mulder was impressed and slightly disturbed, all at the same time, by her explanation. "That's true, although I could have lived without that visualization." At this point they had passed the Superdome and she got another Mulder-titbit of useless information. "Hey, Scully, did you know that the Superdome has a strict climate control operating at all times? It has actually rained in there when system has malfunctioned." "Where in the world did you learn this stuff Mulder?" "Well, a lot of it I picked up on previous visits but some of it I got from this web site called 'Virtual New Orleans." Scully had correctly assumed that this meant he hadn't slept much the night before. She smiled as she thought back over their conversation in the car. She had been charmed and repelled by what she had seen so far. Downtown was nice, but the area between downtown and the Garden District was run down in places past the point of charming. The area around the hotel seemed lovely, as far as she could tell. There was something about the air in New Orleans. She wasn't sure she had ever felt it before. It was tropical feeling, warm and heavy, but it felt.......magical? She decided that she liked the feeling. Mulder walked up to Scully and handed her a key card for her room. "They didn't have adjoining rooms available Scully, but we are next door to each other. We are on the sixth floor." This was directed at the bell boy, who maneuvered the luggage cart on to the elevator behind the two agents and pressed the button for the sixth floor. ********** End Chapter 2 Chapter 3 The Mystic Cafe Magazine Street March 20, 1998. 9:00 p.m. Clarice continued to surreptitiously watch Clay and his fiancee. After about 10 minutes or so, Clay seemed to return to normal. She could tell that his fiancee was slightly worried by his strange behavior. She would have to think about this dilemma and try to find a way to resolve it. She had spent too much time obsessing over Chris and it had only led to sexual frustration. She sighed, again. That wasn't really what she wanted, but it would satisfy an immediate need quickly. She had scoured Bourbon Street before and it always depressed her. Pretty boys that were so drunk she could do anything she wanted. No challenge, no conquest, no satisfaction. Clarice got up and left some cash on the table for Larry. She assessed her outfit carefully. Black leather mini, sheer hose, black pumps, black tee. Very simple, very sexy, very impractical for Bourbon Street on a Friday night. However impractical, it will speed up the process. She walked outside to wait for the bus that would take her to the Quarter. ****************** Ramada Inn, Room 615 St. Charles Avenue Same Day, Same Time. Scully stood gazing out of her window. The city at night looked beautiful from six stories up. Her room was facing downtown so she could see the skyscrapers and the Superdome about a mile and a half away. The funniest thing about New Orleans was that, for some reason, she had never considered the likely existence of skyscrapers. Whenever she had read about the area she had read about old mansions, the French Quarter, and all of the things normally associated with New Orleans. But not skyscrapers. She supposed that she should have realized that it *was* a city, after all. She had the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was difficult to tell if it was excitement or apprehension. Mulder had convinced her that they just had to go down to the Quarter and look around. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Scully, it's me." She opened the door to find Mulder wearing faded blue jeans and a black tee shirt. He looked.........good. Very good. The blue jeans were nearly obscene. It wasn't as if they were tight, they weren't. They were just........his. Obviously his, well worn in places. She put an immediate stop to that train of thought. "You ready to go, Scully? You look very nice, by the way." He rarely got to see the casual version of Scully that was standing before him in blue jeans and a short sleeved sweater. Even her hair was more relaxed. "Thanks, Mulder, you don't look so bad yourself. I'm ready, just let me grab my purse." She walked back to the table by the window. "Scully, it would probably be better if you didn't take a purse. At least not a big one. Not into the Quarter on a Friday night. It is much easier if you are unencumbered, with the crowds and all." "What about my gun?" "I've got mine in my ankle holster, it'll be fine." Scully wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea of going without her gun. She felt naked. But, then again, most of the crowd in the Quarter would be unarmed . She had gotten so accustomed to being an F.B.I. agent that she had forgotten that most women, or men for that matter, would go out on a Friday night without a gun strapped somewhere on their body. She stuffed some cash into her front pocket. "Let's go." ********************* Canal Street at Rue Bourbon March 20, 1998, 9:30 p.m. Clarice walked off the bus to cat calls and whistles. She walked purposefully up Bourbon into the bright lights and gaudy atmosphere of the most populated and popular section of the French Quarter. As she walked, she realized that there was only one place she could go at this early hour. One place that would be crowded enough so that she would not attract undue attention. One place where the men would notice her, but be drunk enough that they would never remember who she left with. She picked up her pace. ********************** St. Charles Street Car St. Charles Avenue at Lee Circle Same Day, Same Time "Riding the streetcar is one of my favorite things, Scully. I don't know why, it just embodies New Orleans for me." She had to agree that it had a distinctive charm. The noise that it made was a strange combination of clanging, rumbling and chugging. The streetcar was packed with people heading downtown or to the Quarter. By the time it reached the Ramada it had been so packed that Mulder and Scully had to stand. More people got on at every stop, to the point where Scully didn't think it would hold any more. Scully was pushed to a spot where the only thing she could hold onto was the seat next to her. Of course, it was at this point that the streetcar lurched around Lee Circle, throwing her off balance. Mulder saw her struggling and slipped an arm around her waist. The height differential meant that he had to stoop slightly or risk getting shot. "I've got you, Scully," he whispered in her ear. "I think I can manage, Mulder." The combination of his arm around her waist and his breath in her ear was making her feel......funny. She couldn't decide if it was in a good way or a bad way. "Relax and plant your feet a little farther apart to stabilize yourself." He didn't want to let go. Holding her up was doing more for him than it was for her. He had come so close to losing her that he needed the closeness, he craved it. In the past few months he found himself touching her as often as possible. A light touch on the arm or on the small of her back to reassure himself that she was still there, that she wasn't a ghost. His heart hurt when he thought back...... "When do we get off, anyway, Mulder?" "Gee, Scully, I'd say that's completely up to you." Mulder grinned at her. She couldn't help it. She laughed. Mulder was suprised. He bent around her to look at her face to be sure. She laughed even harder when she saw the surprise on her face. "Does everything make you think of sexual innuendo?" "Uhhhh.....yeah, actually. So what will happen if I ply you with Hurricanes?" "We have to work tomorrow, Mulder." She was still smiling when the streetcar clanged to a stop at a large intersection. "END OF THE LINE, CANAL STREET!" the operator called as everyone started piling off the streetcar and onto the corner of Carondelet and Canal Street. Nearly the entire crowd started across Canal Streets' eight lanes of traffic. "Where to, Mulder?" "Follow the crowd. Carondelet turns into Bourbon once you cross Canal Street and from there it is a block to the main part of Bourbon where all the action is." The light changed and the streetcar clanged and clattered as it turned onto Canal Street to cross over to St. Charles Avenue and begin its journey back uptown. Scully stood still for a moment and looked around. Across Canal Street she could see bright lights and hear loud music. The side of Canal Street that she stood on was amazingly similar to the downtown area of any major city with skyscrapers and hotels. It was definitely as dirty as any other city. Canal Street itself was a major thoroughfare with three lanes in each direction and a two lane middle ground which was apparently for bus traffic. On the surface, the far side of Canal Street appeared to be the same as the side on which she stood. But she knew from a map that Mulder had shown her on the plane, that the French Quarter took up a large area behind the normal looking facade fronting on Canal Street. "Scully? Are we ready to go?" "Yeah, Mulder. Do you have a destination in mind?" "Well, actually, I do. But that is only an initial destination. We have all evening and we can go into any place that interests you or we can just stroll aimlessly. Keep in mind that Bourbon Street is radically different on a weekend evening as opposed to during the day." "Why do you sound like you are preparing me for something?" "Because I am. I love all parts of New Orleans but Bourbon Street at night is not everybody's idea of a good time." Scully stopped in her tracks at that statement. "Mulder, are you saying that you think I'm uptight?" Mulder flinched. He really hadn't meant it that way. "No, Scully, not really. I just don't know if it will be you cup of tea or not." Scully knew that she gave the appearance of being rather rigid, in fact she was rather rigid. Ever since her cancer scare she had thought she was lightening up a bit, trying to live a little. Apparently, Mulder did not see it that way. Mulder was sneaking little glances at Scully's face as they continued walking. He hadn't meant to offend her but he was also knew how Bourbon Street could appear on nights like this. He really wanted her to have fun. He was inspired. He knew exactly where to take her to put her in a magical New Orleans frame of mind. ***************** Pat O'Brien's Rue St. Peter Same Evening Clarice casually strolled the area outside Pat O's. There were enough people around that neither of the doormen checking identifications noticed her. Finally, a group of attractive women strolled up to the entrance. Clarice took advantage of the opportunity and slipped up behind them, pretending to be a part of their group. Pat O'Brien's is made up of several bars connected by a brick enclosed hallway. When she walked in off St. Peter, the main bar was to her left and the piano bar to her right. If she continued straight ahead she would end up in the courtyard. She immediately discounted the piano bar. She strolled through the hallway toward the courtyard stopping at the circular staircase that lead upstairs to the ladies room and employees area. She could see out into the courtyard and noted that it was very crowded. As she turned to go back toward the main bar she spotted him. He was tall, with dark hair. He was not conventionally handsome, but there was something about him that she liked immediately. She watched him as he walked toward her and then turn into the men's room. Clarice walked into the main bar and noted that it was not very crowded. It would be easy to watch him, but she certainly couldn't talk to him here. The chance that one of the bartenders would remember her was too great. At that moment he walked back into the bar and sat down with two other young men. All three looked very young. They had to be 21 or they had fake I.D.'s. All three of them broke into raucous laughter, as three Hurricanes were placed in front of them by the bartender. The man looked at them carefully as he removed three empty hurricane glasses. Clarice sighed. Then the vision of Chris popped into her head again. Suddenly, it didn't matter so much that he was young and drunk. Clarice got up and walked towards the young men and the door. As she passed the group at the bar, she ran her hand from the lower left side of his rib cage, across his back and gave him a little squeeze. He stopped laughing and watched her as she sashayed out the door and into the hall. "Uhhh.......guys, I am gonna go get some air. If I don't come back, just meet me at the hotel later, o.k?" He was warm, his head was swimming and he *had* to see if that woman meant to grab him. "Yeah, take it easy man.....don't puke on any cops.....they throw you in jail for that here, ya know dude?" His two buddies started laughing again, finding themselves hilarious. Clarice paused for a moment in the hall to be sure he would see her walk out the door. As she reached the entrance, she risked a glance over her shoulder. He was just coming out of the door to the main bar. When she saw him look at her, she smiled her most seductive smile and walked out the door. Once on the street, she paused briefly and began walking up St. Peter away from the noise of Bourbon Street. Again she glanced over her shoulder. He was standing on St. Peter just looking up the street at her. She smiled at him and motioned for him to follow her. He jogged to catch up with her, thanking his lucky stars. He wouldn't be for long. ***************** Bourbon Street at Rue Bienville Same Evening Mulder watched as Scully gazed around, with her mouth slightly open. There were people everywhere. On the street, on the sidewalks and on the balconies overhanging the street. Some seemed to be milling aimlessly, while others gathered in groups gawking at the women standing on the balconies. Other groups formed in front of the numerous strip clubs watching the strippers parading around, trying to entice people to come into their club. Most people had a drink in their hands and everyone was having a good time. Mulder and Scully stood a little off to the side, taking it all in. "This is unbelievable, Mulder. Is the whole street like this? Because I am not really interested in seeing women take their clothes off." "Scully, Scully, Scully. You can see men take their clothes off, if you like." She smirked at him. "Seriously, only the first block or so is made up of strip clubs. After that it is various bars, clubs with live music, restaurants and tourist type shops." Suddenly, a group of men in front of them started cheering. Scully and Mulder looked up in time to see a woman bare her breasts in the middle of the street. Men on the balcony above her started tossing brightly colored bead necklaces which she and her friends scooped up off the street. "What the hell was *that* all about?" Scully was confused. "You have heard about Mardi Gras, how they have parades with floats?" Scully nodded. "Well the men on the floats toss the beads to the crowd and people go nuts trying to catch them. On Bourbon Street you will see people doing just about anything to get those beads. The bigger the strand, the more risque." Scully arched her eyebrow at him. "Hey, don't look at me, Scully. I never understood the need for beads." She still looked at him, disbelieving. "Scully, do you honestly believe that I would induce a young woman to remove her shirt and then throw beads at her?" The corners of Scully's mouth turned up slightly. He pouted, "You wound me, Scully." "Mulder, I want a drink. I want one of those big, frosty daiquiris." "Seriously?" She nodded. "Give me your hand, Scully. I don't wanna lose you." As he grabbed her hand to lead her through the crowd, Scully caught a fleeting glimpse of something that looked like pain cross his face. She grabbed his hand in both of hers and squeezed. He looked back at her and she gave him a bright smile. His heart skipped a beat and he forgot the painful memory that had momentarily haunted him. He smiled back and lead her through the crowd. ***************** Rue St. Peter at The Place d'Armes French Quarter Same Evening Clarice and her new friend, Eric, walked up St. Peter. Or in Eric's case, staggered. He had his arm around her shoulders, his hand dipping to caress her breast when he thought no one was looking. As his hand brushed across her nipple for what had to be the tenth time, Clarice looked up at him. She had to make him walk faster. "Eric, I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me....soon." She was breathing heavily, more for effect than anything else. She reached across and stroked the front of his jeans as his erection suddenly became more pronounced. He groaned. "Uhhh.....where, where can we go?" he stammered. He could barely walk, he wanted her so badly. He had never wanted someone like this. It became more urgent as she stroked him again. "I know just the place. Hurry, baby." The started walking faster past the Place d'Armes. Clarice briefly considered scaling the fence and taking him in the grass of the park. She pulled him along and across Decatur Street. They hurried up the steps of the Moonwalk, over the Riverside Street Car tracks and down into Woldenberg Park along the Mississippi River. At this time of the evening there would almost certainly be no one in the park. It was not exactly a safe place to be at night. She steered Eric away from the lights of Jax Brewery and to a secluded spot in the grass, not far from the rivers edge. She sat down in the grass and pulled him down with her. She pushed him back on the grass and unbuttoned his pants. Clarice was nearly frantic as she pulled his jeans down to his ankles. Eric pulled her on top of himself and began kissing her as he ran both of his hands up the back of her thighs. His hands came to rest on her firm buttocks and then pushing up with his hips, he ground her into his erection. He pulled his mouth off of hers, panting. "I won't last......" Clarice sat up and straddled his chest. She reached back and pulled down his briefs, freeing his cock. "I don't want you to." she said as she reached back and grasped his erection. Eric reached under her skirt to feel her heat and stroke her. He wanted her to be as crazed as he felt. He gasped in shock when he encountered bare, wet, flesh. She had ripped a large hole in her sheer, black, panty hose. "A woman likes to be prepared." She grinned down at him, her teeth glittering in the moonlight. He almost came right then. He groaned and helplessly began thrusting his fingers into her, in time to the thrusting of his hips. Clarice threw her head back and rode him as he moved his fingers inside her, brushing his thumb over her clit. She nearly screamed. She bit down on her lower lip and pulled his hand away. She slid backwards until she felt his erection in the crack of her ass. She grabbed his cock as she raised herself up off of his chest. In one swift movement she impaled herself on his rigid member. He did scream then and started thrusting into her as hard as he could. He tried to flip her over onto her back but she wouldn't allow it. She closed her eyes as she rode him and thought of Chris and his fear, his resistance. As she started to come she leant forward and sank her teeth into Eric's neck. He screamed again and she felt him come, bucking wildly, as an explosion of lights went off in her own head. ***************** Rue Bourbon at Rue Toulouse French Quarter Same Evening Mulder and Scully, each with a drink in hand, stood outside a club listening to the sound of the blues wafting in the air. Scully watched as Mulder swayed in time to the music, one foot tapping. He looked unbelievably sexy. "Hey, man, you should be dancin' wit your lady." Mulder looked startled, like he hadn't realized that he had been moving. He grinned at the short black man standing in the doorway of the club. "You're right, sir." He grabbed Scully around the waist and pulled her closer, again moving in time to the music. Scully laughed in delight as she almost dropped her drink. It was an awkward dance, with each of them holding daiquiris, but Scully moved easily with Mulder. As they settled into a comfortable rhythm, the man in the club clapped his hands. Scully smiled up at Mulder. "You're good, Mulder." "This surprises you?" Mulder grinned back at her. "Just don't ask me to dance to rap.....and I am not quite so graceful dancing to rock. I never square dance or......." "Shut up and dance, Mulder." He threw back his head and laughed. Scully couldn't remember the last time she had heard that sound. She couldn't remember if she had *ever* heard that sound. Her head was spinning. The lights, the people, the music, the laughter......and Mulder. He really was going out of his way to see that she enjoyed herself. She was dancing, laughing and having more fun than she could remember having in a long time. She was suddenly very grateful that she hadn't allowed him to come to New Orleans alone. The music had stopped and the small crowd that had assembled all applauded. Mulder held on to Scully a moment longer, looking down into her eyes. Suddenly, he realized he was staring and let go of her. "What's wrong, Mulder?" He had a strange look on his face. "Nothing, Scully. Hey, I wanna show you something, come on." He grabbed her hand again and they walked up Bourbon. As they came up to the intersection of Bourbon Street and Rue Orleans, Mulder took Scully over to the sidewalk. He stood behind her and, with one hand on each of her shoulders, he steered her around the corner onto Rue Orleans. He bent over so his head was level with hers and pointed up the street. "Look, Scully." She gasped out loud. "Oh my god, Mulder." Her eyes widened and a chill raced up her spine. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She just nodded. In front of them, one block away, was the backside of a large white church. On the wall of the church, about four stories in height was a shadow....in the shape of an angel. She had never seen an effect quite like that. She shivered again. It was such a simple thing, really, when she looked closer. It was eerie. Mulder propelled her forward, towards the church. "You cold, Scully?" "No.......it's just so......." "Spooky?" he asked, smiling. She chucked, nervously, as they walked toward the church. Mulder glanced sideways at her. She looked like she was a little spooked. It always gave him chills when he came here, he wasn't quite sure why. "That is the back side of St. Louis Cathedral. As you see, it is a simple effect." She noted the statue of the angel that was about 3 feet high and placed on a pedestal. It was sitting in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by a high, wrought iron fence. Three lights on the ground were directed up at the angel, casting a huge shadow on the wall of the church. "Mulder?" "Yeah, Scully?" "Why are we whispering?" He grinned down at her again. "Well, Scully, it's just so....." "Spooky?" He laughed out loud again as he pulled her back toward Bourbon Street, wishing the night never had to end. End of Chapter 3 Heidi ::::::::with head in hands, rocking slowly:::::::::: CHAPTER 4 Rue Bourbon at Rue Orleans The French Quarter Same Evening, 11 p.m. After showing Scully the shadow of the angel, Mulder thought it was time to visit the one place that he had on his agenda for the evening. "Well Scully, there is one place that I want to visit." "Is there a ladies room there?" "Well.......why don't we head back to Pat O'Briens and use their bathrooms. They have the nicest bathrooms on Bourbon." "You have rated the bathrooms?" She gave him that "look" again. "Scully, if you had seen some of the bathrooms on this street........." Scully held up her hand, realizing where he was coming from. She looked around, and while she was enjoying herself, she realized that some of these bathrooms might be *quite* raunchy. She strolled up the street back the way they had come from, and again Mulder grabbed Scully's hand to pull her through the crowds. ***************** Pat O'Brien's Rue St. Peter Same Evening, Same Time Clarice sauntered back into Pat O's behind another group of people and moved swiftly towards the staircase and the ladies room. The upstairs portion of the bar was almost a sanctuary and strictly female. When she reached the top of the staircase, she walked over to the windows and looked out over the courtyard. It was at maximum capacity, filled with people of all ages, shapes and sizes in full party mode. There were several women upstairs, a couple reclining on the couch and one on the bench that belonged to the piano standing next to the entrance to the ladies room proper. She walked past them and into the vanity area of the bathroom which was unoccupied except for the bathroom matron who was in charge of keeping order and cleanliness. She checked her makeup and clothing and was pleased to note that everything was in order. She sat down to rest for a few moments and touch up her perfect makeup. She barely noticed when the petite redhead walked past her. Clarice walked down the staircase and tried to decide what to do. She had only come back here to ensure that anyone who had seen her earlier saw her again. Sort of an alibi, if one was ever needed. She had only been gone an hour and with as many people that were in the place the bartenders in the main bar would have no concept of how long she was absent. She decided that the main bar was the place to be. She would sit and chat up the bartenders for awhile and then she could go home and go to bed. It was at that moment that man of her dreams came out of the men's room directly across from her. He was tall, dark and beautiful. Hazel eyes and a nose that would have seemed too big on anyone else but looked perfect in his face. A well defined jawline and a pouty lower lip that Clarice could imagine sucking on. Hair that she would *kill* to run her hands through. He paced near the staircase, seemingly oblivious to her and her stare. Clarice decided that it wouldn't hurt to *talk* to the man. "Certainly a gorgeous man like you is not all by himself?" Clarice asked as she ran a hand lightly up his arm. "No.....he's not" came a female voice from directly behind her. Clarice turned and saw the little red head from the ladies room approaching. The two women glared at each other for a moment. Then the redhead looked past Clarice at the gorgeous one "Fox, are you ready to go?" was the thought that ran simultaneously through Mulder's and Clarice's heads. "Uh, yeah. All set. Let's go. *Dana*." Scully's eyebrow quirked and she smiled at him. Clarice was not happy as she watched *her* perfect man walk out of Pat O's with his hand on the redheads back. This train of thought was depressing for Clarice so she tried to ignore it. She sighed deeply and headed into the main bar for a drink. ************** Once they were out on the street, Mulder pulled Scully to a halt on the side walk. "What was that, Scully? Fox?" "I was saving you from a predatory female, Mulder." "A what? A predatory female?" Mulder grinned at her. Scully shook her head at him. "You are not this dense, Mulder. You know a come on when you hear one." "Yeah, but it isn't everyday that I have a beautiful redhead try to protect my virtue." That stumped her. She found herself without a come back. She simply gaped at him. She struggled for a minute while Mulder continued to grin at her, the bastard. She smiled back at him. "Where are we going now, Mulder?" *************** Clarice sat at the bar sipping her Mint Julep. The place was crowded and noisy but she wasn't hearing any of it. She thought about the gorgeous Fox and became depressed. . Hazel eyes and full lips kept popping into her head. She shivered. She could feel how sensitive he was when she had touched him. Sensitive, strong....and loyal to the little redhead , all qualities that she liked. Clarice didn't even need to touch the redhead to feel her strength. She shook herself mentally. There was no use dwelling on Fox and his little friend. She would never see them again and even if she did, there was nothing she could do about it. Unless she found a way to control that type of man. Sighing, she finished her drink and got up to leave. As she moved toward the door, a dark haired young man caught her eye. She looked closely at him and smiled. Well, not completely, she realized. He had dark hair and an oversized nose which didn't work as well in his face as it did in Fox's. But he was young, good looking and he reminded her of Fox. She decided to stay for awhile. ****************** Good Friends Bar Rue St. Ann French Quarter Same Evening, Same time Mulder and Scully had walked up Bourbon to Rue St. Ann. When Mulder pulled her to the left to walk up St. Ann, Scully started to have doubts about where they were headed. She noticed lots and lots of men holding hands and kissing. Some were wearing strange leather outfits and hats. They passed a bar on the corner of St. Ann and Bourbon and when she looked in the doors she saw a gorgeous man dancing on the bar. He was wearing boxer shorts, cowboy boots, cowboy hat and nothing else. She then noticed that everyone in the place was male. Scully was not homophobic by any stretch of the imagination but she was wondering where Mulder was taking her......and why. Mulder came to a halt outside a nice looking bar on the corner of St. Ann and Rue Dauphine. It was the typical French Quarter establishment, wrought iron balconies and all. The balcony directly overhead was crowded with men having fun. Scully had never been in a gay bar before and she wondered why Mulder wanted to come here. Mulder was watching Scully with a slight smile on his face. He knew she had to be wondering what they were doing here, he could see it on her face. It really looked like a nice place. He decided to have a little fun. He motioned for Scully to follow him inside. Just inside the doorway was the bar. It was made out of a dark, polished wood shaped in a large square that filled a most of the room. In the center there were three bartenders waiting on the men that were sitting on stools on all four sides. At each corner of the square were neon lights in the shape of lilies. Off to their left was an open area that had a fireplace along the wall and a pool table with a game in progress. The room hummed with conversation. There was an empty table near the fireplace and out of the way of the game. Mulder walked toward it with Scully right behind him. Scully noticed Mulder getting admiring glances from nearly every man in the place. Mulder pulled out a chair and motioned for Scully to sit down. Mulder sat down across from her and took her hand. "Scully, I have something to tell you." He looked down at her hands for a minute and then looked back up at her. She was looking at him with a face that showed confusion at his suddenly serious tone. She looked like she didn't want to hear what he was going to say. "Go ahead, Mulder, I'm listening." He leaned forward to whisper and she did likewise to hear him. "Scully, I'm.....uh......not gay." Scully's jaw dropped open as Mulder started grinning at her again. "You son of a......" Scully started to smile. She felt like she should be a little pissed off at him for playing with her like that. "You should have seen your face, Scully, it was priceless." "Did you set this whole thing up? Was that the only reason we came here?" The grin on his face was certainly attracting attention. She may have to find a way to get back at him. "No, Scully, I just thought of it outside. We are actually here because the most recent victim spent a lot of time here and I wanted to check it out when there was likely to be a bunch of people here that knew him. Don't be mad, Scully, I was just teasing you." "I am not mad at you for making me think you were gay. However, I should remind you that we are supposed to be having fun tonight, not working. Not to mention that I have not read the file yet." "This won't take long. I just wanna ask around a little and then we can move on." "Well, as long as we are here, we may as well have a drink." Scully was starting to formulate a little plan of her own. "Sure, what can I get you?" "Just water for me, Mulder. Since we have to work tomorrow and all." "O.k., I'll be right back." Mulder got up and headed for the bar. Scully never saw heads turn like that before. "Excuse me, young lady, but is that gorgeous hunk of man your boyfriend?" Scully, startled, looked up at a tall, broad shouldered, good looking man. Then she smiled. "No. We're just friends, we work together. He wanted to come here tonight, but didn't want to come by himself." Scully was starting to feel evil. "Please tell me he's available." "Well, yes, as a matter of fact he is available." "Thanks." With that the man walked towards the bar and Mulder. Mulder was leaning on the bar waiting for the bartender to bring his beer and Scully's water. The bartender walked over and handed him his drinks with a........leer? When Mulder reached for his wallet, his elbow bumped into someone standing directly behind him. "Oh, sorry" Mulder said and turned back to the bar. "That's no problem, darlin'. My name is Ike, let me get that drink for you." Ike reached past him and handed the bartender some cash, in the process leaning close to Mulder. "Ike, I appreciate the gesture but I'm........." Mulder thought fast and fumbled with his I.D. ".....on official F.B.I. business. I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and I was hoping to ask the bartender here some questions. Perhaps you can also help me?" "I'm sure I can help *you* Agent Mulder" said Ike with a grin. "You a regular here, Ike?" Mulder decided to do what Scully always did........ignore the innuendo and go on. "Yeah, I come here a lot. Most of the girls do. The touristy bars are up on Bourbon Street and usually we only see locals in here." "Did you know a young man named Chris MacKenzie who was murdered recently?" "Yeah, I did. Real shame. Nice young kid." "Did Chris have a.....uh, boyfriend?" Ike just laughed. "It's o.k. Agent Mulder, we won't be offended by the term. No, Chris had a steady lover who recently moved to D.C. for a job. As far as I know he wasn't seeing anyone." Ike yelled over Mulder's shoulder. "Hey Ken! Come over here, baby." The bartender that had waited on Mulder walked back over toward them. Scully walked over from the table to see what was going on since it was obvious that her attempted revenge had fallen a little flat. "Ken, this is Agent Mulder, he's investigating Chris's murder." Mulder and Ken shook hands. "This is my partner, Special Agent Scully. Ken, I was just asking Ike if Chris had been seeing anybody new." "No, his lover, Kevin, just moved to Washington D.C. and the poor baby was all depressed about it. I never saw him with anyone new. He usually came in here for a few drinks after he got off work over at the Bourbon-Orleans Hotel." "You were pretty close to him then?" asked Scully. Ken shook his head. "No, not really. He came to some of the parties and he was in here quite a bit, but I wouldn't say we were close." "How about you Ike?" "Nah, Mulder. He was a young kid. I hang with the grownups, mostly. Men your age, actually." Scully grinned while Mulder shuffled his feet a little and blushed. "Relax, straight boy, I'm just playin' with ya." Even Mulder smiled at that one. "Do either of you know anyone who may have been close to Chris?" asked Scully. "Why? Are they under suspicion?" Ken did not want to get any of his patrons in trouble. "Probably not. We are just trying to establish what happened to Chris that night. We know that he left work and came here. After he left here the file is blank. We don't know his movements between the time he left here and the murder." Ken stared at Mulder for a second. "O.K. Agent Mulder. See that guy over there?" Ken turned and pointed to a young man sitting alone on the other side of the bar. "That's Gary. He and Chris were pretty tight. I have to warn you though, he is shit-faced. He was devastated by Chris's murder." "Thank you, gentlemen. This is my card with my cell phone number. I want you to call me at any time, if you think of anything that may help with this investigation." Mulder handed a card to both Ike and Ken. Ike placed one hand over his heart and fanned his face with Mulder's card. "Oh, darlin' I will be sure to call." Mulder leaned toward Ike. "You do that....." he said, in his most sultry voice. Ike looked shocked and Scully's jaw dropped open again as Mulder turned and sauntered around the bar toward Gary. Scully and Ike looked at each other for a second. "Young lady, if I were you, I would *not* let him run around unaccompanied in here. He's just so......." Ike was speechless. Scully nodded and hurried after Mulder. She caught up with Mulder just as he reached Gary, who looked up as Mulder approached. "Oh god. This is mah lucky day." Gary was noticeably drunk. He grinned stupidly at Mulder like he was a vision from heaven. Suddenly, Mulder's view of Gary was obstructed by the man sitting two stools away from him standing up. He turned toward Mulder and smiled, also slightly drunk. "What do you want with that boy when you could have a man like me? He's just a baby......." At that moment, Ken skipped to that end of the bar. And loudly, in a singsong voice: "Straight boy, George, straight boy! Give it up, baby." George sighed heavily and sat back down, clearing Mulder's path once again. Scully decided that maybe they should have cases in New Orleans more often. This was too much fun. Ken introduced the two agents to the inebriated Gary. "Gary, these are Agents Mulder and Scully with the F.B.I. They are investigating Chris's murder." Scully and Mulder flipped open their badges for Gary to see. At the mention of Chris' name, Gary's face fell and he looked down into his beer. When he looked up again, he had tears in his eyes and was suddenly sobered. Scully decided to take the lead. "Gary, I am very sorry about your friend. Can we ask you a few questions?" Gary nodded and Scully sat down on the stool next to him while Mulder stood at her elbow. "Gary, were you here three nights ago, the night Chris was murdered?" asked Scully gently. "Yeah, I was here. Chris came in after work and had a drink with me. That was the last time I saw him." A tear ran down Gary's face which he wiped off with a napkin. "Did he only have one drink?" Mulder asked. Gary nodded. "He was getting kinda tired of the party scene. It was wearing him out, with his work schedule and all. So he had one drink and went home." "About what time was this? Are you sure he went home?" Scully gave Mulder a look that clearly said *take it easy*. "I think it was around ten. I can only assume he headed home." "Did he have any places that he stopped regularly? Like for coffee or anything that you know of?" Gary shook his head again. "I don't think so. He usually just walked up to Canal, hopped the streetcar and went home." Mulder handed Gary one of his business cards. "Gary, we will probably be in touch with you to ask you some more questions. Can you write your phone number on this card? And here is one for you to keep. Please call us if you think of anything that may help us find who did this to your friend. Anybody new that he had met or any new places he had gone recently....anything, no matter how insignificant. O.K.?" Mulder took the card that Gary handed back to him and shook his hand. "Thanks for your help, Gary." Mulder turned to leave and Scully shook Gary's hand. "We'll find the person who killed your friend, Gary." Gary smiled at her weakly. "Just make sure you put the bastard away." ******End Chapter 4****** CHAPTER 5 The Ramada Inn, Room 617 St. Charles Avenue March 21, 1998. 7:00 a.m. Mulder was lying in bed watching CNN. Well, he wasn't really watching CNN, he was thinking about Scully. He'd had more fun last night than he'd had in the last ten years combined. Which was rather odd, when he thought about it. It wasn't like they had *done* anything other than wander aimlessly up and down Bourbon Street and conduct an interview regarding the case. He snickered when he thought about their conversation after leaving Good Friends bar. <<"Scully, you don't think I *look* gay, do you?" "Mulder, that is a very stereotypical thing to say. Not all gay men *look* gay." "Humor me, Scully. The guys in there obviously thought I was gay" "Mulder! You walk into a gay bar and the guys might just assume that you are gay! And no, you do not look *gay*, whatever that means" "But I was with you so why would they think I was gay?" At this point Scully looked decidedly uncomfortable. Mulder got it. "You set me up, didn't you Scully." Scully just smiled at him. "I didn't tell everyone who asked that you were straight. They only asked if you were available. And I said yes." "Everyone? Everyone who asked? Did a lot of men ask if you were my date?" Scully nodded. "Wow. Cool." Scully raised an eyebrow. "Why cool, Mulder?" "Well, at least I know *someone* is interested in me. I don't do nearly that well in a regular bar." Scully was incredulous. "Oh, Please! I left you for five minutes at Pat O's and you had a blond all over you." "She was *not* 'all over' me, Scully. She was probably drunk.......or a professional. Geez, Scully, if I didn't know better I would say you were jealous." Scully smiled at him again. "And if I didn't know better, I would say you were looking to get your ego stroked." Scully jerked her head toward Bourbon Street. "Let's go, straight boy." "O.K. G-woman, where to?" After that they had stopped at Marie Laveau's Voodoo shop where Mulder had bought Scully a Gris-gris bag for luck. Then Scully had made him pose for a picture under The Condom Company sign. He hated disposable cameras. It was amazing what a couple of daiquiris could do. They had slowly wandered back toward Canal Street and the hotel. Mulder looked at the alarm clock and realized it was time to get up and go to the police station. He padded across the room and into the bathroom to take a shower. ***************** In the next room, Scully heard Mulder's shower turn on as she was looking over the case file. This case was going to be something else. It had Mulder written all over it. The local P.D. had not been able to turn up much in the way of physical evidence or suspects. It appeared that the killer was exceptionally careful. Either that or the P.D. and the coroner were incompetent. She had heard all the stories about the N.O.P.D and the corruption that was running rampant. She sighed and turned back to the beginning of the file. This was the type of case he immersed himself in totally. ******************* 4th Precinct, N.O.P.D. Same Day, 9:00 a.m. Alex was sitting at her desk in the detectives bull pen going over the murder case that had been pegged the Garden District Murders by the press. The F.B.I. was supposed to show up at any time and she wanted to be fully prepared. Her partner, Patrick Monahan, had gotten the flu and would not be helping her for a few days. This meant that it was going to be two against one, since Joe simply refused to assign anyone else. She rested her head in her hand and sighed deeply. Just then her least favorite detective sauntered over to her desk. "Hey, Alex, how about we have dinner tonight? I was thinking Mulate's. We could do some dancing afterwards." Alex just stared at Michael Edwards like he had a hole in his head. He asked her out at least once a week and she always said no. Alex knew she was reasonably attractive but this was ridiculous. The man would not take a hint. He was an attractive man, medium height, blond hair, blue eyes. He just didn't do anything for Alex. He seemed.......slimy. "Thank you, Michael, but I have plans for this evening." "What do you do with your time, Alex. I mean....." "I would love to continue this conversation, but I think the Fibbies just arrived." Alex and Michael watched as a pair of well dressed, attractive, obvious F.B.I. agents showed their badges to the desk sergeant. The desk sergeant pointed in Alex's direction and the agents headed her way. "Good lord, what a babe. There is no way she is an F.B.I. agent." Alex glared at him. "Just because she is a woman, an attractive woman, there is absolutely no reason why she shouldn't be a very effective F.B.I. agent. Now get the hell away from my desk." Alex, to put it mildly, was pissed. "Jesus, you don't even know her. I was just joking around." Michael whispered. "That's not the point, you are being a sexist pig." Alex whispered back. Michael glared at her and opened his mouth to argue with Alex and tell her she was being overly harsh. "Excuse me, but are we interrupting something?" Mulder asked. He got the feeling that he and Scully had just walked in on a fight of some sort. "No, you aren't interrupting anything. My name is Alex DuMont. I am in charge of the investigation into the murders that brought you here." Alex shook hands with Mulder and Scully. "I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully." Mulder appraised Detective DuMont. She was about 5'5", not as short as Scully, and slim, with blond hair and flashing green eyes. Her hair was up in a knot on her head and she was wearing wire rim glasses. She looked angry. "Well, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully what do you say we commandeer a conference room and go over what we have on the murders. I don't know what you hope to find, we have covered everything pretty thoroughly and there isn't anything to find." Scully took in Alex's posture, arms crossed over chest, and her comments and realized that this was not going to be a cooperative effort. Unless she and Mulder could do something to put Alex at ease. Which meant that she needed to prevent Mulder from opening his mouth for a few minutes. Then Mulder shocked her. "Detective DuMont I am sure you have done a great job. I have read the file thoroughly and it looks like you have covered everything. We are just here to help you solve this case. How about you show us the crime scenes? We can talk while we drive and this will help Scully and myself familiarize ourselves with the area." He gave Alex his best smile. Scully was surprised. Scully saw DuMont's face relax a little and she grudgingly nodded her head. "Just let me tell my Lieutenant that you have arrived and fill him in on what we are doing. Then we can go." Alex walked across the room and knocked on a door. Mulder turned to Scully and noticed a small smirk on her face. "What?" "This is a first Mulder. You actually placated local law enforcement instead of pissing them off." Mulder put on his wounded face. Then he leaned over and whispered to her. "You must be a good influence on me." "How's come it's taken five years?" Scully whispered back and Mulder chuckled. "You aren't up to something, are you Mulder?" Scully thought it best not to voice that particular concern. "Nah, Scully, I'm just in a good mood. Did I tell you I had fun last night?" Just then Alex came jogging out of the lieutenants office. "There's been another murder. Let's go." Alex wanted to get to the crime scene in a hurry before people walked all over the evidence. ********************* Woldenberg Park Same Day, 9:35 a.m. Mulder walked carefully around the crime scene. Police officers had cordoned off the area, keeping spectators and the press away. The victim, Eric Hamilton, lay under a small stand of trees, his pants around his ankles. His wallet had still been in his pants pocket, allowing them to identify him. His head was turned to the side and a wound to the neck was clearly visible. Scully was bent over the body, giving it a cursory look. Alex was questioning the man who had found the body and had called the police. Mulder was looking through the young man's wallet as Scully and Alex came walking over to him. He pulled out an electronic key card with the words "Doubletree" printed on one side. "Well, I guess we'd know where he was staying. We better go question the people at the hotel and see if he was traveling with anyone." Alex and Scully both shook their heads. "I am going to do the autopsy, Mulder, there has got to be some kind of physical evidence we can use to go on." Mulder nodded as Alex gaped. "*You* are going to do the autopsy? I don't think that's a good idea. Our M.E. is perfectly capable......." Scully interrupted her. "I am a forensic pathologist for the F.B.I. The M.E. is perfectly welcome to assist me in the autopsy, in fact, I would like to question him about the previous victims." Alex grimaced. Harold, the M.E. was not going to be happy about this. "I am sorry, Agent Scully, I wasn't aware of your background. Well, I need to question the man who found the body and I want to look closely for more physical evidence, so maybe the three of us could split up?" Mulder was starting to get mildly irritated by Detective DuMont's decision making but decided that it would be best to avoid starting a turf war. Besides, he could cover more ground more quickly by himself and he would be able to think. Mulder had the feeling that the detective would be arguing with him every step of the way. Based on past experience, Mulder knew that only Scully could argue with him productively. "Fine, you do that and I'll go to the hotel. Perhaps when you are done here we could meet at the first crime scene." "Agent Mulder, I don't know what you expect to find at the old crime scenes. Those trails are cold." This man was getting on her nerves. Didn't he know she was in charge here? "Listen, Detective, I need to look at all the crime scenes. I am not looking for physical evidence, necessarily. I am trying to get a feel for the killer, why he or she picks the victims, if there is a pattern in the locations of the bodies, things like that. Now if you don't want to accompany me that's perfectly o.k. by me." Scully could tell that Mulder was getting pissed off. She decided that it was time to interject before this got out of hand. "Mulder, why don't you go to the hotel. Detective, you can wrap up the crime scene and then maybe you could call Mulder on his cell phone, compare notes and decide if you need to meet up with him. I will conduct the autopsy and will call both of you when I am finished. We can all meet back at the station this afternoon and go over the case to date." Mulder and Alex both nodded. "Scully, you keep the car, the Doubletree is within walking distance from here. Call me if you find anything. Later, detective." With that, Mulder walked away in the direction of Canal Street. Alex sighed heavily as she watched Mulder's retreating form. She looked at Scully, who was also watching Mulder with a small smile on her face. "Is he always like that, Agent Scully?" Scully frowned. "Like what, detective? It seemed to me that you were being rather territorial and argumentative." "This is my case...." "We don't care who gets the credit, detective. As far as we are concerned you can have it all. You can talk to the press and tell them whatever you like. Mulder is the best profiler in the F.B.I. and I would think you would be grateful for his help. The sooner we solve this case, the sooner we leave and go back to D.C." Scully crossed her arms over her chest and, to her surprise, the detective smiled. "Look, Agent Scully, I didn't mean to offend you. I am just stressed out, what with my partner having the flu and my case load. It is just important to me to solve this case. I am still trying to prove myself, here." Just then the M.E. arrived and Scully turned to go help him with the body. She looked back at Alex. "Let's try to work together, detective, and solve this case before anyone else gets killed." Scully smiled. "And I'm not offended." "Please call me Alex, Agent Scully." "I'm Dana, Alex." They both nodded to each other and went about their to conduct their respective tasks. ********************* Mulder walked quickly past the Aquarium and toward Canal Street. The Doubletree Hotel was visible directly in front of him. He was perfectly content with the way things had worked out. He planned to get this questioning out of the way quickly, so he could head out to the other crime scenes. He also wanted to compile a list of streetcar drivers that had been on duty during the period of time that Chris MacKenzie had ridden it. Three days had passed since that murder and he couldn't understand why no one had already done this. At least Mulder assumed he had gotten on it like his friend said he usually did. He was found in Audubon Park, not far from St. Charles Avenue so it stood to reason that he had ridden it. He just never made it home. ***************** Woldenberg Park Same Day, 11:30 a.m. Alex had been over the park from one end to the other and had not found a thing. Not that she was surprised in the least. She supposed she should call Mulder and see what he was up to. She was, however, much more curious as to how Dana was doing on the autopsy. She thought it over and came to the conclusion that she would learn more from Dana and maybe it would give her a leg up on Mulder. She had an abiding desire to thwart his solving this case. It was *her* case........hers. Unfortunately, she also had other cases that demanded her attention. Mulder was on his own, there was no sense in her going back over well trodden ground. She knew he wouldn't find anything. ******************* St. Charles Street Car at Lee Circle Same Day, Same Time Mulder had left the Doubletree Hotel and decided to take the streetcar to the end of the line. That way he could talk to the foreman in charge of the streetcars and visit the second crime scene which was only a couple of blocks from there. He was slightly frustrated. After the hotel manager had finally figured out who Eric Hamilton was registered with, Mulder had gone upstairs to talk to the two boys sharing his room. They had been sound asleep and didn't even realize, in their hungover state, that their friend had never come back to the room. He cringed as he remembered breaking the news to them. Both had been stunned and crying when he had left the room. He related too well to the both of them. They were blaming themselves, they hadn't stuck with their friend and now he was dead. To make matters worse, they couldn't help him at all. They had both been drunk. They were fairly certain that they had been at Pat O'Briens shortly before he and Scully had shown up there last night. They didn't recall Eric talking to anyone, only that he had said he needed some air. When he didn't come back they figured he got lucky. It was Bourbon Street, after all. He thought over what he *did* have. Four young men, all under the age of 22. No consistent physical appearance, not even a consistent sexual preference. He had ascertained that Eric Hamilton had been straight. At least as far as his friends knew. There was no consistent location type. One behind a church, one behind a bar, two in parks......parks in different parts of the city. All had had sex just prior to their deaths which appeared to be consensual. In this case, he was fairly certain that looks were deceiving. All had been exsanquinated. Of course, Mulder was well aware that other, all too human, people had mind control powers. Mulder had the beginnings of a profile swirling in his head. He was confident that Scully would find a crucial piece.....she had too, because he didn't have much to go on otherwise. As the streetcar moved up the tracks, Mulder found his mind wandering. Mulder's thoughts came to a screeching halt. Mulder felt his previously good humor fading. The streetcar operator signaled the end of the line, jerking Mulder out of his thoughts. He went forward to speak to the operator. "I am Special Agent Fox Mulder with the F.B.I. and I am in town investigating a series of murders." he said as he flipped open badge. "Do you ever work nights?" "Nah, man. I only work days. Everybody usually works the same shift on the streetcars, man." "The street car station is just two blocks over, right?" The man nodded. "Is your foreman or the man in charge working right now?" "Yeah, man. Gus O'Malley, he's the man you wanna speak to." Mulder thanked him and got off the streetcar, heading in the direction of the streetcar shop. Fifteen minutes later, with the list of streetcar operators and their phone numbers in his pocket, Mulder walked the block over to Maple Street to begin his survey of crime scenes. ********************* Orleans Parish Morgue March 21, 1998, 1:45 p.m. Scully had finally wrapped up the autopsy on Eric Hamilton. The medical examiner had shown her where everything was and was not at all put out by Scully's presence. He actually seemed grateful for her help. She had discovered a couple of things that were not previously indicated on the autopsy reports of the other victims. She needed to interview the medical examiner. Just as she was preparing to do that very thing, the door opened and Alex walked in. "You find anything, Dana?" Alex inquired. Scully wondered why she wasn't with Mulder. "Not much, really. Come with me while I talk to the medical examiner." As Scully and Alex walked out into the hallway, Scully had to ask. "Why aren't you with Agent Mulder?" Alex looked at her, surprised. "Well, I figured he could handle this on his own and I need to go back to the station. I have had a break in another case and I need to go deal with that. We can meet up this afternoon and compare notes. Although, I found nothing at the crime scene, I'm sorry to say." Scully was highly confused by Alex's attitude. One minute she was extremely territorial, the next she was leaving Mulder to his own devices. She wondered what the story behind Alex's behavior was. Scully walked into the autopsy bay where the medical examiner was working on a different case. He looked up as Alex and Scully walked into the room. "Well, how'd it go, Agent Scully?" "I just wanted to ask you a few questions, sir." Scully paused. "Did you find anything in the other autopsies that indicated the sex of the assailant?" "Well, I assumed that the assailant was a male based simply on the nature of the crime. However, I found nothing to indicate whether it actually was a male." Scully frowned. "Most serial killers are male, but this doesn't seem quite right." Scully had found residue on the victim's genitals that indicated he had been wearing a condom. The autopsy showed that he had ejaculated, but very little was found on the body, also indicating condom use. This aspect, for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, was bothering her. She needed to go over this with Mulder. He had a way of coming up with unusual, and accurate, explanations. She told the medical examiner what she had found. "You didn't find any other trace evidence, Harold?" "No, Agent Scully. The problem with this type of case in New Orleans, especially in March, is that if a body is left outside for any period of time it is bound to get rained on. The first two victims were found approximately 12 to 15 hours after they were murdered. The third victim was found about 8 hours after death." The M.E. shook his head. "The third victim was sheltered somewhat by a magnolia tree and it had not rained but there still was a rather significant lack of trace evidence. This killer is very fastidious......or just knows how to clean up afterward." "Well, thanks for your time Harold. Hopefully, I won't need your facilities again." She smiled and made her way out the door, Alex trailing behind her. "What do you think, Dana?" "Bizarre case. I need to confer with Mulder. Although I am sure he will have plenty of equally bizarre theories." She smiled slightly. She was actually looking forward to it, for a change. Alex was studying her closely. "But Dana, what do *you* think. Don't you want to tell me without running it by Mulder?" Scully bristled. "*I* think that we have a serial killer of undetermined sex, most likely male. Age 25 to 35, extremely fastidious.....covering his....or her, tracks. That's really all I have since you have found nothing at the crime scene and I have not talked to Mulder yet." Scully frowned at the detective. "We are working as a team here, Alex. All parts of the team have to compare notes in order to formulate a cohesive opinion." "Dana, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off. I was just curious what you thought of the case so far." Scully relaxed somewhat and her stomach growled. Alex smiled. "Look, I need to go back to the station and then I need to question a suspect on another case. That will probably take the rest of the afternoon. Why don't you get some lunch, meet with Mulder and we'll all get together at the station first thing in the morning." Scully raised her eyebrows. "You mean we aren't going to work half the night?" "Welcome to the Big Easy, Dana." ******END CHAPTER 5********* CHAPTER 6 4th Precinct, N.O.P.D. New Orleans, Louisiana March 21, 1998, 3:00 p.m. Dana walked back into the police station and headed for the conference room that was to serve as an office for her and Mulder. He, of course, was nowhere to be seen. She had stopped at Mother's on the way back to the station and decided that she could live on New Orleans cuisine. The jambalaya was to die for. She was not surprised that the place had been packed with cops, since Alex had recommended it. Alex. Scully thought Alex was all right, but there was something about her that bothered her. She couldn't put her finger on it, just a nagging feeling in the back of her head. She decided that she was becoming irrational on the subject. Alex didn't even *like* Mulder. Scully gave up. Alex seemed very nice, as long as you didn't trample on *her* turf. Scully could relate to being a female in a male dominated occupation. Scully's cell phone chirped, putting an end to that train of thought. "Scully." "It's me Scully. You done with that autopsy yet?" "I just got back to the station. Where are you?" "I'm at the streetcar shop waiting for the night shift to show up. I want to interview the operators to determine if Chris saw anyone or talked to anyone on his way home. If he rides it every night they ought to recognize him." "But Mulder, if he rides it every night who's to say they will remember specifically the night he was killed. It is a long shot, don't you think?" "Well, Scully, unless you found something in your autopsy, we don't have much else to go on. *Did* you find anything on the autopsy?" Mulder crossed his fingers. "Not a lot, Mulder. It rained at some point after Eric Hamilton was killed. But I did manage to determine that he had been wearing a condom. He was missing 4 liters of blood, apparently removed through the jagged puncture wounds in his neck. The wounds are consistent with human teeth, sharp human teeth. There was no saliva or other bodily fluids not belonging to Eric anywhere on the body. This killer was very careful. He made sure to clean up any trace evidence on the body, including the condom. Alex found nothing in the park at all." "Well Scully, it looks like our vampire has a knowledge about forensic evidence and DNA matching." Scully could hear the grin in Mulder's voice but she gave her opinion anyway. "Mulder, there are no such thing as vampires. I will agree that the killer knows something about forensic evidence, but with the accessibility of the Internet, not to mention television shows like ER or even Court TV that isn't saying a whole lot." "You also said 'he' Scully." "You think this killer is a she? Aren't most serial killers male?" "Yes and yes. Think about it, Scully. It doesn't quite make sense that the killer was male. Only one of our victims was homosexual, the rest were apparently heterosexual. There was no sign of a struggle. But even if they were all gay, why would they wear condoms? They showed no signs of sodomy. If a man was going to seduce or rape these young men, it is most likely that there would be evidence of sodomy, if that is what his M.O. was. If he had some other preference, say oral sex, the victim would not be wearing a condom, it would reduce the killer's thrill. Now if the killer is a woman, she could seduce the young men easily. She is obviously cognizant of the value of trace evidence, hence the condom. Either that or she is very wary of disease. Of course if she really is a vampire she wouldn't be worried about AIDS and other STDs." Mulder took a deep breath and waited. "But Mulder, the same characteristics could apply to a man. Maybe the killer is a male who is very fastidious or conscious of forensic evidence. You also know that young men that age are not likely to admit to homosexuality to their straight friends. Let's assume for a minute that the killer is a female. How do you explain Chris? He was openly gay and not likely to be seduced by a woman." "Ahhhh, Scully, that's the clincher. Vampires are believed to have powers of suggestion and the ability to coerce their victims, holding them in thrall against their will." Mulder grinned into the phone. "Didn't you ever watch Dracula, Scully?" Scully smiled in spite of herself. "Mulder, are you coming back here anytime soon?" "Well, this may take a while. Why don't you join me. That way it will go faster and then we can go to dinner." Scully held the phone away from her head and looked at it like it might bite her. "Are you suggesting that we knock off before ten o'clock at night? And actually go out to dinner?" Mulder laughed. "Welcome to the Big Easy, Agent Scully." ****************** St. Charles Streetcar Shop March 21, 1998, 3:30 p.m. Scully pushed open the door to the shop and found Mulder sitting with his feet up on a desk across from a small, wizened black man who also had his feet up on the desk. There were piles of sunflower seed husks on both sides of the desk and both men were snickering. Scully cleared her throat and Mulder's feet came off the desk and landed on the floor with a thud. "Hey, Scully." "This your partner? Weeellllll, now that's a fine lookin' woman, boy." The little man got up and walked over to Scully and stretched out his hand. "Clayton Jefferson, miss. I keep this shop running smoothly. Lookit dat beautiful hair you've got." Scully smiled and shook Clayton's hand. "So what have you been up to, Mulder?" "Just waiting for the night shift to start coming in. We'll show them the picture of Chris and maybe we'll get lucky." Mulder rubbed his hands together. "Then we can go eat." "How many operators work the night shift?" "Well, miss, the 4 to midnight shift has 8 operators. There are more than that on the weekends but they are different employees. I assume that you want the weeknight ones?" Mulder and Scully nodded. "Then, after midnight, the streetcars only run once an hour, so we only have three. These same three work during the week, with a different three on the weekend." At that point, a man and a woman walked into the shop and headed for the time clock. Clayton called them over and introduced them to Mulder and Scully. ***************** 45 Minutes Later Mulder and Scully had questioned all the drivers with limited success and were sitting in the car, outside the shop. "Well, Scully, what do you think?" Scully looked at him quizzically. "I think we have 5 streetcar drivers who recognize Chris because he rode the streetcar nearly every night. All 5 are well aware of his sexual orientation from seeing him with his boyfriend on several occasions. Unfortunately, they don't remember seeing him talk to anyone on the night he was murdered." "What about the guy who said that he thought Chris got off on the wrong stop?" "Mulder, he wasn't sure which night that was. And besides, if none of them remember him talking to anyone it doesn't really matter." "You're right, I am reaching. It's just that this case is damn frustrating. We just don't have a lot to go on and I hate waiting for her to screw up." "I take it you didn't get anything from visiting the previous crime scenes?" "Not really, except for the fact that the killer probably lives in the area." Scully raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?" "Well, except for the last murder, where the victim was found downtown near the river, all the victims were found in the vicinity of the streetcar line. Although, I admit, I am reaching again." Scully looked thoughtful. "Well, you are, but it isn't that bad of a reach. I mean, the streetcar is a well used mode of transportation by natives and tourists alike. It would be easy for the killer to ride it and pick victims. Then get off at the same time and follow them until the time was right." "True, Scully, but that doesn't explain Eric Hamilton. But maybe the killer was getting desperate for someone to fit their profile and decided that the fastest course of action was the Quarter." "Do you see an obvious pattern, Mulder?" "Only that they are all young men. Maybe there is a personality trait that the killer is interested in, maybe she just sees something she likes, maybe a combination of the two." Mulder's stomach growled loudly and he made a face. "Are you skipping meals again, G-man?" Scully said with a stern look. Mulder gave her a guilty look and started the car. ****************** 2209 Maple Street March 21, 1998, 6:00 p.m. Clarice was curled like a cat on the couch in the front room of her half of the double shot gun house. She stretched and yawned, thinking over what she had learned earlier. Clarice's thirst had been steadily growing. Blood was a drug, a very addictive drug, as was power and control. She was becoming addicted. She laughed to herself. She had barely been able to contain herself when she had found out, thanks to her *friend,* that there was an F.B.I. agent named Fox who had a red haired partner. She shivered thinking about him, becoming aroused. She considered her options, realizing that the very real possibility existed that she would have to leave New Orleans. Especially if she managed to snare the Fox. She had moved before, due to necessity. Clarice had grown up in San Francisco and had lived happily there until circumstances dictated that it was time for a new city. New Orleans seemed like the perfect town for a woman like herself and she loved it. As she lay there a plan slowly formulated in her head. She knew what to do. She walked back to her bedroom and selected her dark brown wig, then pulled out black leggings, a black turtle neck and a cap. ********************* Ramada Inn St. Charles Avenue Same Day, 7:30 p.m. Mulder and Scully walked out the front entrance of the hotel and headed across Jackson Avenue to the little dive bar, Igor's. "What are we doing here, Mulder?" Scully looked around and noted all the customers appeared to be locals. "I wanna get something to drink while we wait for the streetcar. You want to share a beer?" The barmaid came over and Mulder ordered a Turbo Dog to go. "Turbo Dog, Mulder?" "Yeah, a local beer. I liked the name." He took a sip and handed the cup to Scully. She looked at the beer, then she sniffed it and then she cautiously took a sip. She nodded her head and gave the cup back to Mulder, smiling. "Not bad, kinda bitter but I like it." Just then they heard a streetcar, headed uptown, rumble past. "Well, Scully, that was our ride. Now we have to wait 15 minutes for the next one." "We could drive, you know." Mulder got a shocked look on his face which gradually transformed into a pout. "That's no fun, Scully. Besides, what if we decide to get wasted and can't drive?" This was said with a big grin and Scully just laughed. "You are really getting into this whole New Orleans ambiance, aren't you?" He nodded, happily. "You wanna play pool?" he asked, hopefully. Scully smiled at him again. "How 'bout we just go sit outside at the tables on the sidewalk and watch for the next streetcar." "Can we play pool after dinner?" Scully was starting to feel like his mother, but she was finding him so endearing that she couldn't help but smile. "If you are a good boy and eat all your veggies." She turned him around and started pushing him towards the door. "Where are we eating Mulder?" As much as the dive bar/local hangout atmosphere of the bar was starting to appeal to her, she was hungry. And waiting at the tables outside in the warm, humid, springtime air seemed.......romantic. She decided that starvation was making her insane. ******************* Igor's St. Charles Avenue Same Day, Same Time Clarice had positioned herself at the sidewalk tables outside Igor's so she could watch the entrance to the Ramada. She had just sat down when she saw *him* come out of the hotel with his hand on the back of his *partner*. She tensed and watched as he started to guide Scully in the direction of Igor's. Clarice picked up her drink and walked into the bar. She moved toward the back and went up the stairs to the small second floor area that housed another pool table. From there she had a perfect view of the entire bar, with the exception of the pool tables directly below her. She watched Mulder and Scully enter the bar. He was smiling down at her, telling her something. He bought a beer and was sharing it with her. Soon, they were both smiling and talking and having fun. Clarice wanted to tear Scully's eyes out and feed them to her. Then Scully turned him around and started pushing him towards the door and Clarice almost went over the railing. Clarice slipped down the staircase and moved toward the front of the bar. Next to the doorway was an alcove with tables in front of french doors that were open and overlooked the sidewalk. There was a wrought iron railing across the outside of the bar, like you would see on a balcony, that prevented the doors from being used for anything other than air circulation. From this alcove she could listen to Mulder and Scully talk, if she was careful to position herself so she wasn't visible from the outside. "Where are we going to eat, Mulder? I'm starving." "What?!? *The* Dana Katherine Scully who confessed to a "huge" bowl of jambalaya no more than four hours ago?" She scowled at him. "Scully, I'm just teasing. You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say you're starving. Just for that I am taking you to a place that will stuff you to the gills." He grinned. "And I'm gonna make you eat dessert." "Mulder, I am falling in love with Cajun food.....just tell me it's Cajun." "Actually, I thought we'd go to Figaro's which is this great Italian place down in the area where St. Charles turns into Carrolton Avenue. But if you really want cajun....." "No, that sounds good too, actually. Do they have tables outside?" "Yeah, why? You suddenly have the urge to be outside all the time?" "Well, besides the fact that our office is in the *basement*, it is the air here. The atmosphere is just so...." she didn't know how to end that sentence. "Romantic?" Mulder finished for her. And then cringed inwardly. He watched for Scully's reaction to his faux pas. "Yes, actually, it is." It was Mulder's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Well......uh, oh, here comes a streetcar!" He picked up the beer and drank two big gulps out of the cup. "Come on Scully, chug it, we can't take it on the streetcar." To his complete amazement, Scully took the cup and swallowed the remaining beer. He grabbed her hand and dragged her across the street to the car stop. "What was that all about? I shouldn't have drunk that fast, I may throw up." Mulder laughed. "It's called the "Streetcar chug", Scully. I think it is against the law to waste alcohol in this town, you know." "Are you trying to get me drunk, Agent Mulder?" she said with a smile. She was starting to like the innuendo game. "You mean it only takes half a beer? Cheap date." He smiled at her and waited for her to climb up onto the streetcar. "I'll have to remember that." was mumbled quietly under his breath as he climbed up behind her. ********************** Clarice watched them get on the streetcar. She debated on following them. She could do nothing as long as he was with Scully. So, that meant that she might as well wait for them to come back and hope for an opportunity. She didn't think she could stomach watching the two of them enjoy each other's company any more. They looked almost like a married couple. Clarice intended for them to get a divorce......and soon. ********************** Figaro's Maple Street Same Evening, 8:15 p.m. "Mulder, this is wonderful." Scully enthused around a mouthful of fresh baked bread dripping in herbed olive oil. Mulder watched in fascination. He didn't think he had seen her eat like this since that rib joint. That seemed like eons ago. They were sitting outside under large umbrellas. There were candles on the tables and the place was fairly packed with couples. Scully watched as Mulder looked around the place. He was very quiet and thoughtful. She couldn't tell what he was thinking about, which was rather unusual. He was wearing a black, short sleeved shirt with black pants. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top and she could see dark, curly hairs on his chest. He was fiddling with his fork with his lower lip slightly protruding. Mulder looked up suddenly and caught her staring. "What?" "I was just wondering why you got quiet all of a sudden. Our unspoken communication is apparently broken right now." He smiled at the reference to their aborted Florida conference of a few months ago. He picked up the wine bottle and poured her some more. "Now it's my turn to serve *you* wine, Scully." "I promise not to ditch you, Mulder." He opened his mouth to protest. "I'm just teasing you Mulder. I know that we were working a case and you had one of your brilliant leaps of logic and had to check it out. Seriously, were you thinking about the case?" "Ah, Scully, we shouldn't talk about the case." "Come on Mulder, you were thinking seriously about *something*....clue me in." Mulder gazed at her and decided to let her have the whole train of thought. "O.K. I was wondering why we never do this, you know, go and just have fun. I was wondering how a non-vampire female could seduce a homosexual man and manage to drain 4 liters of blood from his body without him fighting it. I was also wondering if vampires are around us right now." He took a deep breath and continued. "And I was wondering if she was out there right now, seducing some guy into great sex followed by an erotic death." He did not look happy at that last thought. "You never asked." Mulder looked at her quizzically. "We never go and just have fun because you never asked." There. She said it. That ought to keep his mind off blaming himself for not solving the case as soon as he sets foot in town. Mulder didn't know what to say. It was the sleeping bag comment all over again. He was pretty much screwed either way he went with it. "So, if I called you sometime and said 'Scully, you want to go play pool and drink some beer?' you would go?" "Sure, I would, Mulder. That would be fun. Bet I could kick your ass." She smiled at him. That kind of invitation was pretty harmless and could be taken several ways. "Oh, yeah? You are on, G-woman, you are on." With that, Mulder's quiet mood was broken. Scully was getting good at that. "So, Mulder, tell me a drunken debauchery story about the last time you were here." ********************* Ramada Inn 2 hours later Mulder and Scully had strolled up Maple Street towards Carrollton Avenue and caught the streetcar back to the hotel. Mulder had suggested they go listen to some jazz over at Carrollton Station but after all she had eaten Scully just wanted to sleep. They got off the streetcar early and were walking slowly toward the hotel. "You sure, Scully?" "Mulder we have been working all day and then that huge meal. I am full and sleepy. Aren't you tired?" "Yeah, a little." He was resisting the urge to go into pout mode. He didn't want to go to sleep. He wanted to explore. He wanted to find the killer. He wanted to have some fun with Scully. And he wanted to do it all tonight. Of course, Scully could see it all written on his face. "Mulder, I'm sorry. I really am tired." She laid her hand on his arm. "I know you're anxious about this case, not to mention being in a town you love, but I won't be any good tomorrow if I don't go to bed." Suddenly, Mulder looked stricken. He turned his face towards her and stopped walking. "Scully, you're O.K. aren't you? You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you? You aren't going out of rem..." Scully laid her fingers over his mouth to shut him up. She had forgotten how hurt he had been by everything that had happened not too long ago. It was still so close to the surface for both of them. This was partly her fault for not owning up to how she really felt at times when he asked. He could tell she wasn't "fine". Now he was doubting her. "Mulder, I really am fine. I am still in remission." She smiled gently at him to soften her next words. "Not everybody can go on 3 hours of sleep the way that you can." Mulder looked a little uncertain so she continued. "Listen to me, Mulder. I *promise* that if I don't feel well or if I get sick again, I will tell you. No more I'm fines unless it's true." He smiled at her, but she could tell he was still troubled by the conversation. "You could go over to Igor's and find someone to play pool with Mulder." "Nah, Scully, you're right. I should get some sleep. Besides, I don't want anybody but you kicking my ass at pool." ******************** Same Night, Same Time Clarice had stayed at Igor's the whole time Mulder and Scully were gone. She had started out reading outside and drinking wine. Currently, she was playing chess with a hunky college student. He bore no resemblance to Fox other than hair and eye color, but he was nice looking and relatively intelligent. It was also a good way to pass the time waiting for Fox to come back. Just as she said check, she looked up and saw Mulder and Scully walk into the hotel. She decided to pump the concierge for information. "Hey, Kevin, keep the chess board warm. I am going to run over to the Ramada and use the ladies room." "Why don't you use the ladies room here?" "Have you ever been in the ladies room here?" Kevin shook his head. "Well trust me, you don't want to go in there." She got up and walked the half a block to the entrance of the hotel. She peered in the glass doors and didn't see Mulder or Scully hanging about the lobby. She walked in and sashayed over to the desk, thanking her lucky stars that the person behind the desk was female. "Excuse me, but I was over at Igor's and I saw the most gorgeous guy walk in here with a red head. Could you tell me if they are *together*?" The young woman just looked at her. "Look, I know you aren't supposed to give out any room numbers or anything. I am just looking for a little dish, between us girls, you know?" Clarice stared into her eyes. "Well, they have separate rooms, but they are next door to each other. I worked last night and noticed that he doesn't appear to sleep. He was down here a couple times. Once he went over to Igor's and got something to drink and another time he just came down and wandered around. I tried talking to him but I struck out." She frowned. "I think he likes the redhead." "Did he say anything when he came in tonight? Is there any chance he may come down again?" Clarice asked these questions in her best pleading voice. The young woman on the other side of the desk felt her pain. A gorgeous man was involved, after all. "Well, I heard him say that if he couldn't sleep he'd go for a run. If you get anywhere with him you owe me details." Clarice just grinned. "Well, I think I'll hold down my outside table at Igor's for awhile longer, then." She gave the girl a wink and sashayed back out the door. **********End Chapter 6***********