Midnight Hour: Part 3

            “What money?” Cobb asked.

            Love Tap turned around and frowned as she saw Cobb. “I’d think you of all people in here would know about it.”

            What’s that supposed to mean? Cobb wondered. On the other side of the room he spotted his partner and walked over. Boulet looked up from his conversation and gave Cobb a brief nod of acknowledgement before conversing with an officer Cobb didn’t recognize.

            “As I was saying, I think he’s got someone on the inside,” the officer commented, giving Cobb a look from the corner of his eyes.

            Boulet looked uneasy for a moment, as if unsure how to respond.

    “Boulet, what’s going on here?” Cobb asked. He knew now would be a good time to step into the conversation.

            “Do you remember the $100,000 that was confiscated a couple weeks ago?” Boulet asked. “This morning, the locker was found empty. But it gets weirder. In its place was a magnolia with one of C Major’s calling cards inside.”
            “Who?”

            “Feline Thief C Major,” Boulet continued. “You’ve been in New Orleans for half a month and haven’t heard of him yet?”

            Cobb shrugged. “Who the heck is he?”

            “He’s a very unusual thief,” Boulet explained. “He dresses in a costume resembling a tuxedo cat, and commits all sorts of thefts around New Orleans. Some of them for are typical valuables, like jewels or museum artifacts and others are real strange. A while back there was a newly-discovered bird species housed at the Audubon Zoo and he took it. He even has the gall to announce his thefts to us and the media before they happen.”

            “What’s the point of that?” Cobb asked. “That’s like begging the police to arrest him.”

            “Maybe he likes the attention? That would explain his costume and his calling cards. At every theft he leaves a magnolia with a little calling card in its petals. What’s even weirder is that sometimes, a while after the theft, the things he’s stolen come back completely unharmed. For some reason, this happens most often with museum artifacts. If he’s going to return them, I wonder why he goes through the trouble to steal them in the first place?”

            Cobb was even more confused. “Why does he sometimes return things? Why not all of the time or never?”

    Boulet shrugged. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

    “So how did he break into the commissariat?” Cobb wondered.

    “The locker was locked, so C Major must have picked the lock. It’s a top-of-the-line lock, but none of us know where the key is kept, not even the lieutenants, captains or the deputy. I doubt C Major was able to find the key, either. The room had a security camera, but it had been disabled.”

    With each explanation, Cobb only grew more confounded. “If C Major didn’t want to be seen, then why did he leave a calling card to indicate the theft was his doing?”

    “He always does this type of thing. I guess he doesn’t like to have his actions caught on film because it would make the crime easier to investigate,” Boulet replied. “What I’m curious about is how he knew about the money.”

            “We can worry about that later. While he was here, C Major left an announcement for his next theft,” Captain Emery stated. He held up a postcard sized piece of paper and read off it. “Tonight at midnight, the Amitié Flags will fly from the Cabildo to my possession.”  

    “That’s the name for the French flag that was in Jackson Square at the time of the Louisiana Purchase, and the American flag that replaced it,” Love Tap explained. “They’re hanging side by side in the Cabildo museum, the site of where the purchase happened. The Amitié flags symbolize the link between America and France, and are the centerpieces of the Flag Room.”

    “So C Major left this announcement while he was here to steal the money from the locker?” Boulet asked.

            “But how did he know about the money in the first place? Someone in the police force must have tipped him off.” Love Tap looked at Cobb as she spoke.

            Could you be a little less subtle? Cobb thought. He glanced at Boulet, hoping for some backup. Boulet was silent, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. Figures he wouldn’t say anything in my defense.

            “Isn’t it suspicious that Cobb joined the police force on the same day that the $100k ended up in our custody, and only a couple weeks later it’s gone missing?” An officer that Cobb didn’t know by name asked.

            “Yeah, sounds mighty suspicious to me,” another officer chimed in.

    Cobb held back his words. Making a sharp-tongued retort would only confirm their suspicions. A more distressing thought crossed Cobb’s mind. Even if I’m found innocent, they might start to suspect other things about me, and during the investigation they might look deeper into my background. What if all my records weren’t lost in Katrina? What will I do then?

            “That there’s enough accusation for one day!” Embry barked. “Let’s focus on how we’re going to protect the flags.” He motioned to half of the room. “Y’all come with me first. I want to have this planned out in groups.”

            As the room began to clear Boulet took Cobb aside into the next room. Before Cobb could say anything, Boulet had pinned him against the wall.

            “What are you doing?!” Cobb blurted, struggling under Boulet’s grip.

    “There’s something fishy about you.” Boulet’s dark brown eyes narrowed as his hold tightened.

            “You think I was in on the stolen hundred grand?” Cobb threw off Boulet, ducking under his grasp. He stood up and clenched his fists, keeping them up but close to his sides.

    Boulet matched his pose. “Maybe, but even aside from that, you’re up to something. You claim to be from Cincinnati, but you slip into a New Orleans accent from time to time, and unlike most outsiders you don’t have any difficulty understanding the dialect. Where else do people say ‘banquette’ instead of sidewalk? You know the streets around here as well as I do, and I’ve lived in New Orleans my whole life. Just yesterday you found your way to that bar deep in the CBD without any directions.”

         “I trained in Fort Polk, and I came down here all the time,” Cobb replied, acid dripping from his voice. “Of course I know the area.”

           Boulet wasn’t convinced. “There’s something else you know that you’re not telling me, and I’m going to find out what.”

          Cobb rolled his eyes. “Like if I’m working for Feline Thief C Major?”

          “Not quite. But I’ve got my eyes on you.”