Chapter 14

14

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 7:40 A.M.

PHIN WOKE TO THE SMELL of sausage. And coffee.

He stretched, his neck popping. He couldn't be sleeping sitting up against a wall anymore. Thirty-seven was too damn old for that.

He patted the floor to his right, unsurprised to find it empty. Cora was gone. But her bedroom door was open wide.

On his left, SodaPop blinked up at him and he scratched her neck the way she liked. "Good morning, girl," he murmured, his voice craggy. "Thanks for sticking with me."

She nuzzled his hand and gave a small whine. She needed to go outside. Phin got his body moving. He folded the blankets and put them on the end of Cora's bed, already made. Blue was nowhere to be seen, so Phin guessed the old dog was downstairs where the sausage was.

He found a crowd in the kitchen. Burke, Molly, Antoine, and Val were there, and Phin wondered when they planned to return to the office. Or to Burke's house.

Cora was at the stove, a cast iron skillet sizzling. He hadn't realized she could cook, but she looked completely at home in her kitchen.

He stepped farther into the warm kitchen and did a double take. Stone and Delores were there, too, along with Delores's Irish wolfhound, Angel. Stone looked up, a cup of coffee paused halfway to his mouth.

"You finally woke up."

"Sausage," Phin grunted.

From the stove, Cora laughed. "It's in the milk gravy," she said. "The biscuits are ready to come out of the oven. Can you get them, Delores?"

Delores hopped up from the table and grabbed oven mitts. "They smell amazing, Cora. I want the recipe."

"I don't know the recipe. I just make them like my mother did."

"Then you'll have to make them again." Delores gave Phin a quick glance as she passed by him. "You okay?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Fine."

Better than fine, actually. Cora had kissed him last night and said she'd do it again. But first he needed coffee.

Another whine cut into his thoughts and he remembered poor SodaPop. He opened the back door and went out with her into the garden, shivering as she sniffed every plant.

Why were Stone and Delores here?

He whistled and SodaPop came trotting over, her tail wagging. "Let's get warm, little girl."

He exhaled in relief when they were back in the kitchen. He rubbed his hands over his arms. "Cold," he said when Stone stared at him, one brow raised.

"You were raised in Ohio, Phin," Stone said, amused. "This isn't cold."

Phin would have flipped him the bird, but his hands were too cold. "Blood's thin now. Lived in the South too long."

Cora pressed a mug of coffee into his hands. "This is four spoonfuls of sugar, Phin. Delores swears this is how you like it, so if it's wrong, blame her."

Burke and his coworkers were watching him with interest, and Phin didn't like that. He liked to lurk on the sidelines.

Too many eyes were looking at him right now.

SodaPop detoured to her food and water bowls, leaving him all alone.

"Why aren't you all at the office?" he asked as he took an empty chair next to Stone. "Haven't they released the crime scene yet?"

Burke pressed a hand to his heart. "I'm wounded, Phin. Truly wounded. Yes, they finally released it late yesterday evening, but Antoine hasn't had a chance to do a sweep of the office yet, so we aren't talking business there until we know it's clean."

"You have a house," Phin muttered. He was not caffeinated enough to deal with his friends yet.

Burke laughed. "We love you, too, Phin. My fridge is empty. I was getting ready to do a grocery run when Molly texted all of us that Cora was making breakfast, so we descended. Mmmm." He inhaled deeply when Cora put the skillet of milk gravy on the table. "Smells so good. I haven't had good milk gravy in too long. Thank you, Cora."

It did smell good. So did Cora, as she put a plate and utensils in front of him. She was dressed in jeans and a Tulane sweatshirt. She was still wearing the fuzzy socks from the night before. That the socks made him happy didn't make sense.

Except that she'd been wearing them when she'd allowed him to see her vulnerable.

When she'd kissed him.

She smiled at him as she took her seat at the head of the table. "We're debriefing last night."

Phin's brain was finally waking up, thanks to the coffee. "Why are you and Delores here, Stone?"

"Because I wanted to see this house that you think is so grand," Delores said, going for seconds on the gravy. "So far, it is even nicer than you said."

Stone gave his wife a fond look before returning his gaze to Burke. "And I have some information I thought you might want." He looked at Phin. "We were already here when they all arrived. I was holding my info until you wandered down."

Phin nodded, too busy eating to reply. Cora was an exceptional cook. He did a go-on motion with his hand.

Stone pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Your intruder's name is Vincent Ray." He unfolded the paper and, moving his plate to the side, flattened it on the table.

Phin focused on the photo, rage bubbling up inside him at the thought of the intruder breaking into Cora's home. "That's him. How'd you ID him?"

Antoine blinked in appreciation. "Yeah, how'd you do it so fast?"

"Facial recognition software," Stone said. "I use it sometimes when I'm investigating for a story. I work for my family's newspaper in Cincinnati."

That was true, but too modest, Phin knew. "Stone does investigative reporting for national news agencies and was embedded in the army."

"That's how I met him," Antoine confirmed. "He was embedded in my unit. I was going to do the facial recognition today, since I didn't have a photo of the guy yet. Thanks for saving me the effort. This is good work. How long did it take your software?"

"Seven hours," Delores said dryly. "He didn't sleep last night."

Which meant Delores hadn't slept, either. Phin shot her a look of apology and she just smiled at him.

Cora rose from her seat to lean on Phin's shoulder, staring down at the photo. "Vincent Ray. Why do I know that name?"

"He's the nephew of the leader of a drug gang," Burke said, reaching for the photo. "His family was in the newspaper a few years back. Vincent here is a junior. His daddy, Vincent Ray Sr., is serving time for possession and distribution."

"Oh good," Cora said faintly, her fingers gripping Phin's shoulder. "Murderers, erasers, and now drug dealers who plan arson. This just keeps getting better."

Phin patted her hand. "He only got in because we allowed it."

Burke exhaled loudly. "And then our client sat on his feet. Don't do that again, please, Cora?"

"I make no promises," Cora said flatly, giving Phin's shoulder a pat before returning to her chair. "He invaded my home. With gasoline, a gun, knives, and matches." She lifted her chin, wearing what Phin called her regal heiress expression. "Surely you can't expect me to do nothing."

Burke pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just…Fine. Whatever."

Val chuckled. "You broke him, Cora." She held her fist out and Cora bumped it. "Now, the question is, why did this guy invade your home? Is he directly involved in this caper or was he paid?"

Everyone turned to look at her. "Caper?" Antoine asked. "Really?"

Val only grinned. "Elijah, Jace, and I are on a Thin Man movie binge. One of the reviews called it a caper film and it's a fun word." Elijah was the ten-year-old son of Val's boyfriend, and Jace was the fifteen-year-old she'd adopted.

Phin needed to stop by and see Jace. He'd promised the kid that he could help Phin build things. And then Phin had taken off.

To heal , he reminded himself. I left to heal.

And someday he'd be strong enough to heal in place. No more running.

He wanted that day to be today. He wanted it with every fiber of his being.

"So?" Val asked when everyone continued to stare at her. "Directly involved or paid? If directly involved, why? What's Vincent's connection to Cora? If paid, by whom?" She looked over to Molly's whiteboard. "Is our best guess that someone wants Jack Elliot's records of the clients he erased? Or are we still pursuing the angle that Jack's killer was Harry Fulton, who wanted Cora's mother for himself?"

"My money's on the first one," Phin said. "Someone doesn't want those records found, so they sent this guy to burn the attic down. Vincent Jr. can't be the letter writer because he's way too young. But I haven't dismissed Harry Fulton. He could still be behind this. He's still the only one who was around when the letters started coming."

Cora's lips thinned. "It's not Harry. I refuse to believe that."

"That's fine," Molly said. "I get that you want to believe in him. Just promise us that you'll be safe about it. No meeting him alone, not until we straighten all this out."

"That's fair," Cora allowed, and Phin let out the breath he'd been holding.

She was sensible. That was one of the reasons he liked her so much.

"I ran some background checks on Harry last night, Cora," Antoine said. "He seems totally legit. It would be great if we could pin down where he was twenty-three years ago. Our lives would be easier if he was away on business, like in Europe or something."

"He doesn't travel," Cora murmured. "Always been a homebody. Stays in New Orleans or visits his sister in Shreveport. I don't think he's ever left the United States. Maybe not even Louisiana."

Molly squeezed Cora's forearm. "We will figure this out."

Cora nodded. "I know. I've been thinking about this, and there seem to be a few avenues to explore. First, uncovering the records on the partitioned part of my father's hard drive. Hopefully they'll list specific clients. Second, the Swiss bank account he opened. As his only heir, I should be able to get access to the account and we can find out where his deposits were coming from. And third, making this Vincent Ray person tell us who he was working for. Other than that, we're just sitting here, waiting for them to strike again, and that's not okay with me."

Burke's lips twitched. "I think we should be paying you, Cora. That's a good assessment. There is one more avenue we should add to your list, though—the Terrebonne Parish sheriff's department's investigation. Let's find out what they know. They might have evidence that they don't think is important, but given all we've learned, it might be exactly what we need."

"Specifically what?" Phin asked.

"Well, what you said yesterday," Burke said. "Who knew that the foundation was being poured in the Damper Building that day? Who had access to the property? Did anyone do a last-minute check on the pilings, or did they just start pouring? The thing about foundations for buildings the size of the Damper is that they can't dig that deep due to the water table."

Phin nodded. "Usually they pile rocks up to the top of the water table and compact them, then pour the concrete on top of that. The rocks anchor the foundation." He pictured the job and how Jack's killer would have hidden the body. "How was Jack's body found? Was it hidden in plastic of some kind?" He grimaced at Cora. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't think to ask these questions. We can call Detective Goddard."

Phin glanced at Burke. "I'd like to see the building itself, if we can."

"And I'd like to see Goddard in person," Burke said. "We'll go this afternoon. This morning, I'd like to take Cora to the bank her father used. Like you said, as his heir, you can get access."

"I got a death certificate from the ME in Terrebonne Parish after they identified my father's body. That, along with my birth certificate, should be sufficient. I'd say that we should take my attorney with us just in case they give us guff, but…" Cora sighed. "But he's a suspect, too."

Burke folded his hands on his stomach, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe we don't take Harry to the bank, but we should call him. I want him to visit so that we can see him when we question him. For today, I'll go with you to the bank."

Cora met Phin's gaze. "You too?"

"Yes, of course." Phin wasn't even going to ask Burke if it was okay. It would have to be.

Once again Burke's lips twitched. "Yes, of course," he echoed. "Val, you're with us, too. You keep watch outside the bank. I want to know if any cars drive by too slowly. I want to know if anyone sneezes. Antoine, what needs to happen to get into that hard drive?"

"I've had software running since yesterday, trying to unravel the encryption. These things take time." Antoine held up one hand like a traffic cop. "Don't ask me how long. It takes as long as it takes."

Cora snapped her mouth closed, undoubtedly having been about to ask that very thing.

"I might not ever be able to break it," he added reluctantly. "I figured he'd have a simple encryption, being so long ago, but it's pretty advanced."

"And us?" Delores asked. "What do we do?"

"We can keep searching the attic," Stone offered. "Or I can dig some more into Vincent Ray."

"I call dibs on the attic!" Delores said, clasping her hands together in delight. "There might be a secret passageway. These old houses always had them."

Cora chuckled. "This one does. I'll show you before we leave. It doesn't go anywhere, though. My great-grandfather had it bricked over decades ago. One of my great-uncles was using it to hide because he didn't want to do chores, or so the story went. He tripped on a loose board on the stairs and cracked his skull. Went undiscovered for more than a day and nearly died. So they bricked it over."

"Wait," Phin said, he and everyone else staring at Cora. "There's a real, honest-to-God secret passageway? Could something be hidden on the unbricked end?"

"No. It's bricked over on both ends. But I'll show you and you can see for yourselves."

"That would have been so cool," Delores grumbled.

Cora patted her hand. "There are other nooks and crannies here, too. I've searched them all at one point. Found some old letters from World War I in one of them and a few old cookbooks in another. You can take a look at them. One of the cookbooks is from before the house was even built."

Delores brightened and made grabby hands. "Gimme."

"Now that Delores is sorted," Burke said with a smile, "we'll move on. Yes, Stone, please dig into Vincent Ray. Antoine, while your software is running, can you check the status of the NOPD investigation into Medford Hughes's death?"

"I did before I came over," Antoine said, "but that was before the NOPD shift change. I'll do it again."

A low growl got their attention. Delores's wolfhound had sat up straight, her teeth bared. A moment later, SodaPop was at Phin's side, pressed against his leg.

Even Blue lifted his head.

The doorbell rang.

Antoine checked his phone for the camera feed. "It's Detective Clancy. He looks unhappy."

Molly jumped from her chair and grabbed the whiteboard.

Cora's brows went up. "What's she doing?"

"Stashing our notes," Burke said. "As a rule, we keep our investigations to ourselves. If NOPD has a question, we answer it, but volunteering information is on an as-needed basis."

"Pantry," Cora said. "Hide it behind the mason jars, Molly. Val and I will let him in."

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 8:45 A.M.

Val at her back, Cora opened her door to the detective, who wore a rumpled trench coat just like Columbo. "Detective Clancy? How can I help you?"

Clancy leaned to look around her and Cora leaned with him, blocking his view. He grinned. "Can't blame me for trying. I see all the vehicles on your curb. Broussard and his posse are here?"

"We just finished breakfast. Would you like to come in? We have some biscuits and gravy left."

"That sounds wonderful, thank you. I missed breakfast."

He followed her into the kitchen, where he took stock of the crowded table. His eyes flicked to the empty easel up against the wall and shook his head.

"You guys were brainstorming, huh? Maybe we can trade information."

Cora pulled out a chair for him. "How do you take your coffee, Detective?"

"Black, ma'am. Thank you." He waited until he had coffee and a plate of biscuits and gravy in front of him before saying another word. "I'm glad you're all here," he began, then took a bite of the food. "Whoever made this, I want you to marry me. My wife won't mind a third as long as you do all the cooking."

Cora laughed. "Thank you, but I'll pass." She sobered. "What's happened?"

Clancy squared his shoulders and met Cora's gaze. "We got the ballistics report back on the bullet that killed Medford Hughes. It was fired from the same gun that killed your father."

Cora stared as silence fell over the table. "What?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. There's no doubt. Whoever staged Hughes's suicide was in possession of the gun that killed your dad. Whether it was the same person or not, we don't yet know."

Burke pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't expect that."

"Neither did we," Clancy said dryly. "I've been in communication with the Terrebonne Parish detective on Jack Elliot's case, so he knows our two homicides are connected. Given that ours is fresh and his is a cold case and that Miss Winslow has had several break-ins here, he's agreed to let us take over his investigation."

"The glove," Antoine murmured. "That damn glove."

"I knew it was weird," Burke said. "But why? How does that fit?"

Phin's hand dropped from the table to SodaPop. He was tense, Cora thought, wishing she could help him.

But he was doing okay. She wasn't going to interfere.

Phin drew a breath and let it out. "Detective, was there gunshot residue on the glove that Hughes was wearing?"

"Yes, there was. Why?"

"Because if there hadn't been, you wouldn't have assumed a suicide," Phin said. "His killer must have been wearing the glove, then put it on Hughes afterward."

Cora heard a low whine as SodaPop leaned in harder. Good girl , she thought, so glad that Phin had the support. He'd paled and sweat had broken out across his brow.

The scene of the murder. That's what he's thinking about.

He hadn't been okay that night, but he hadn't spiraled. She hoped he wouldn't now. He was visibly struggling.

"You're right, Phin," Burke said. "He shot Hughes with the gun from Jack Elliot's murder, put the glove on Hughes's hand, then put the gun in the dead man's hand. He was really careful."

Phin was breathing in deep measured breaths. "Not that careful. There was also the smudge of blood on the trunk lid. So, working backward, the killer touched the trunk as he was leaving. Couldn't have been when he got there or his hand wouldn't have been bloody yet. Hughes was only wearing one glove, so what about its mate?"

"Killer was wearing it," Molly said. "Were there any fingerprints on the trunk, Detective?"

"Only the victim's and his wife's. What are you thinking, Mr. Bishop?"

Phin was frowning, his lips moving, but no sound came out. He looked up and seemed taken aback that everyone was watching him. "Um…sometimes I work backward from the end when I'm planning to build something."

Stone smiled at him. "Or reading a book."

Cora faked a gasp. "You read the last page first?"

That seemed to break Phin's tension. "Sometimes," he said, his smile almost shy.

Cora wanted to kiss him again but contented herself with being his anchor should he need her. "So what happened at the end?"

"He touched the trunk," Phin said, "and left a smear of blood, but no prints. The smudge was at the base of the trunk lid, not the top. Like he'd touched it when the trunk was open, or he used that hand to open it."

"He got something out of the trunk," Val said quietly. "Detective, was the victim missing any clothes from his closet? Was any luggage gone?"

"It appears that some clothes were missing. Empty drawers, a lot of empty hangers in his closet. We found a suitcase in his wife's closet, but no luggage in the victim's closet or anywhere else in the house. But there was nothing in the trunk."

"The killer took it," Phin said, his breathing no longer labored. "He grabbed whatever it was. Maybe a suitcase, maybe something else. Then he touched the car with the other hand, leaving no prints, just blood. The hand that left the blood smear was also gloved."

"Was it heavy?" Delores asked. "The suitcase? If it was, he might have needed the support of the car. Otherwise, he would have grabbed the top of the trunk lid to slam it down."

"Or he might be small," Molly mused. "Or older. So…let's do this from front to back now. The killer arrives. I assume he had the laptops with him, since they were clearly meant to implicate Hughes in their theft. But we know it wasn't Hughes who stole them and shot Joy, because our intruder was much bigger than Hughes."

Val took up the story. "He gets in the car, probably in the back seat. Waits for Hughes to come out. Whatever the killer took from the trunk later was either already there or Hughes put it there while the killer waited. Hughes gets into the car, his killer—wearing gloves—shoots him. There's going to be blood and brain matter everywhere. Some of it had to get on the killer."

Phin's swallow was audible, but his voice didn't waver. "It got on both gloves for sure. The killer takes off one glove and puts it on Hughes. Puts the gun in his hand."

"He only needs the one glove for the gunshot residue test," Burke said. "If the killer wore the glove to shoot Hughes, you might find his DNA inside the glove.

"We got some skin cells," Clancy said. "Lab's testing them."

"Okay." Phin was nodding. "The killer gets out of the car, opens the trunk, then reaches for whatever he took. Was Hughes's wife's clothing also missing?"

Clancy shook his head. "According to her sister, no. Her clothes and shoes all seemed to be there."

"So Hughes didn't plan to take her," Burke said. "When was the wife killed, Detective?"

"It's not clear, exactly. ME says cause of death is suffocation. Lab found her saliva on the pillow on her husband's side of the bed."

Phin frowned. "The killer was so careful to make sure Hughes was wearing a glove with gunshot residue. Leaving the wife's murder weapon behind doesn't sound right."

"Didn't sound right to me, either," Clancy said. "I'm wondering if the same person killed both Medford Hughes and his wife. She was an addict. There are track marks all over her arms and the inside of her thighs. Recent. She was also a gambling addict, according to her sister. The sister first thought that Medford snapped and killed her, then killed himself. When I told her that he might have been murdered, she was shocked. She had no idea who'd want him dead. Said he worked a lot. Volunteered at their church and took care of his wife after she'd shoot up. Tried to get her help, but it didn't take. The sister said she'd been ready for a visit from the cops for years, telling her that her sister was dead. She just figured it would be from a drug overdose."

"Why would Medford get scared enough to run?" Antoine asked. "Unless he'd been asked to process the stolen laptops. He did have his own network administration business. Breaking a password might have been in his skill set."

Cora frowned. "I want to know why the killer kept the gun that killed my father. For twenty-three years, he kept the gun."

"That," Burke said, "is a damn good question. Detective?"

"I have no idea." Clancy sighed. "People keep guns all the time, though. I can't tell you how many times I see it. You'd think they'd toss them in the river, but so many don't."

"Did Medford Hughes's neighbors hear the shot?" Cora asked.

"No, ma'am," Clancy said. "I think the killer used a silencer, but it was gone from the scene."

A cold shiver ran down Cora's spine. "Because he plans to use it again."

Phin's jaw tightened. "Not on you. We won't let him."

She believed him, offering him what felt like a shaky smile. "Thank you."

She wondered if Burke and the others would tell the detective about the eraser business, but no one did, so she followed their lead and kept her mouth shut.

"Did you find Hughes's computer?" Phin asked. "He had our laptops in the back seat of his car. Where were his? He was an IT guy. He had to have had at least one computer. Maybe you can figure out what his motive was in all this."

Clancy looked impressed. "He didn't have one in his car and we didn't find one in his house, either, which strikes me as odd."

Phin nodded. "Maybe his killer took it. What about the white van the neighbors saw parked outside Hughes's house? Have you tracked it? We need to know where it is."

Clancy sighed. "We tracked it for a while, then lost it. It shouldn't be hard to identify. It's missing half its front bumper on the right side."

"The killer had an accident?" Cora asked.

Clancy nodded, looking even more tired. "We found footage of the van on a Jackson Avenue street cam. It had drifted into oncoming traffic then veered back into its lane, hitting a parked car and driving away. The old Chevy it had been approaching head-on wasn't so lucky. The Chevy's driver must've panicked and wrenched the wheel because it lost control, went through an intersection on a red light and crashed into a bus. The driver of the bus walked away, but the four college kids in the Chevy didn't."

There was silence around the table. "Oh my Lord," Cora finally whispered, horrified. "He killed four more people and didn't even look back?"

"He did not," Clancy said gravely. "We want to catch him. Badly. So now it's your turn to help me."