Chapter 18

18

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 5:50 P.M.

PHIN TRUDGED DOWN CORA'S STAIRCASE, feeling fifty years older than he had only an hour before. Even SodaPop seemed subdued. Still, she stuck to his side like glue.

He reached down and gave her back a stroke. "Thank you."

He hadn't understood how much he'd needed the dog until he'd had her.

He hadn't understood how much he'd needed Cora until she'd patted his chest and listened to him tell her about hiding from his sister.

Burke, Val, and Antoine were at Cora's kitchen table. They gave Phin sad smiles as he pulled up a chair beside them.

"I know she's not okay," Val said, "but is she okay for now?"

Phin nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. "Yeah. She's asleep. Dammit, Burke. I hated finding that damn connection."

"I know," Burke said. "I hated it, too, but it was a necessary avenue to check. Too many coincidences for my liking."

"Mine too," Antoine said. "Burke told us about the diplomas and yearbooks."

Val patted Phin's arm. "Poor Cora."

Phin absently petted SodaPop, whose muzzle rested on his thigh. "Tandy might not know the answers Cora needs. We're probably going to have to go straight to Patrick himself, without giving away the game. We need to get a handwriting sample. A recent one."

"For the wobbly r ," Val said. "Patrick's seen us. It's fair to say that he knows who Burke and Antoine and Molly are, too. If he visited Joy in the hospital the other day, then she may have told him about us."

"And, unfortunately," Burke added darkly, "we do have an internet presence. Too many cases have gone public the past year. One search on Broussard Investigations will yield photos of nearly all of us except maybe Antoine."

Even me , Phin thought. He'd been photographed on his last job. He'd been out of it by then, spiraled past bringing back. Too many triggers.

Too much blood.

He gave his head a hard shake. Stop it.

And then he realized that he hadn't needed SodaPop's intervention. He'd stopped his spiral on his own. Progress.

And then his mind careened away again, thinking of his sister and his mother and father seeing that photo of him from their last job, dazed and being led away by one of his friends.

He'd have to ask Stone if his family had seen it.

Stone.

He looked up. "Stone can get it," he said, interrupting whatever topic they'd transitioned to. Phin wasn't sure how long his mind had been spinning, but he'd missed the first part of the new conversation. He'd apologize later. "The handwriting sample. Tandy knows about Stone and Delores, but her father doesn't."

"It's a possibility," Burke allowed. "We'll have him go by the gallery tomorrow. The other option is Joy. I'll find out if Patrick has signed a get-well card or something. I haven't met the man yet, but is his body type consistent with the man who shot Joy? We can't even find a full-body photo of him online. Only his driver's license photo. You two saw him." He gestured to Val and Phin. "What do you think?"

Phin and Val looked at each other, considering.

"I don't think so," Phin said slowly. That he was relieved was an understatement. If Patrick hadn't shot Joy and stolen their laptops, maybe he wasn't involved.

Or maybe he'd had help.

Val nodded her agreement, then sucked in a breath. "Shit. I didn't think about this before, but his right hand trembled, too. Just a little. It was when he shook my hand goodbye when I was showing him to the door."

"Fuck," Phin muttered. "I keep hoping for Cora's sake, but it doesn't look good."

"No, it doesn't," Burke said. "We need to confirm where he was exactly on Tuesday morning when Joy was shot and the laptops stolen. He told Cora he was out of town, but let's follow up on that."

Phin rubbed his face again. "Dammit, I didn't want it to be him. That he could kill Cora's father and then insinuate himself into her life…That's scary-cold."

" So cold," Antoine agreed. "We may need to bring Clancy in on this, guys. If we ask Patrick these questions, he might bolt. If Clancy asks, he can have him confined to an interview room in NOPD headquarters. And if we don't trust Clancy, we can bring André in."

"Let's start with Tandy," Phin suggested. "If she leaves here angry that we're asking about her father, she might tell him and he'll still bolt."

"Clancy might come to the same conclusion we did." Val slid down in her chair, hands folded over her stomach. She resembled Burke in that moment and Phin might have laughed had the topic not been so serious. "Detective Goddard had to have told Clancy about the trace elements found on Jack Elliot's pants and what they mean in terms of art restoration."

"And Clancy isn't stupid," Phin said. "He might have already gone to the gallery to talk to Patrick himself." He winced. "Tandy might be mad before she even gets here. If we're going to get a handwriting sample, we should do it as soon as possible."

"Hold on." Burke took out his phone and dialed a number from his favorites list.

It rang twice before Joy's voice came through the speaker. "I thought you'd forgotten about me, boss."

Burke smiled. "Never gonna happen. How are you, Joy?"

"Fine," Joy grumbled. "Ready to go home, but this doctor says I have to stay. What does he know, anyway?"

"Lots of stuff he learned in medical school?" Val ventured.

"Lotta nothin'," Joy snapped, and then her voice softened. "Hey, Val. How's that adorable boy of yours?"

Val smiled. "Elijah is good. He and Kaj were going to stop by and see you."

"They did. Elijah brought me a stuffed coffee cup—a plush toy. He said that he knew how much I liked my coffee, but that the doctors wouldn't let me have any. So he got me a substitute. I don't even know where he'd get such a thing, but that boy sure is a cutie."

"He is," Burke said. "Have you had a lot of visitors?"

"Phin and that new lady friend of his stopped by," Joy said cagily. "They were holding hands."

"You're too late with that gossip," Phin said. "They already know."

"We saw him kissing her," Val said in a singsong voice. "We got the scoop on you, Joy."

"Well, shit," Joy muttered. "Taking away all my fun."

"Who else came by, Joy?" Burke pressed.

There was a momentary pause, and then Joy must have taken them off speaker, because she became suddenly clearer. "Why?" she demanded. "What's going on, Burke Broussard?"

"You really thought that line of questioning would work without making her suspicious?" Antoine asked Burke. "She's way too smart for the likes of you, boss."

"That is the truth, right there," Joy said. "Who else is with you?"

"Just the four of us," Burke said. "Molly doesn't come on shift for a few hours. So…I will tell you, but can you first tell me who else has come by to visit?"

"André Holmes and his fiancée, Farrah. André's brother and his parents. Farrah's parents—her daddy says to tell you hello, Phin. He was worried about you."

Phin had met the man on their last job. He was grateful to Oscar for keeping him steady enough to be transported home. Where Phin had promptly gotten into his old truck and headed for Stone and Delores's house in Ohio.

"I'll stop by his house and tell him hello back," Phin promised. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Phin. Let me see. My kids, of course. They haven't left. Those sweet girls from Marica's Bakery. They brought me chocolate cupcakes. They said they were for the nursing staff, but I knew the truth. I waited until the nurses were gone and ate one. Got busted by the nurse who stole the rest of the box right out from under my nose." She sighed. "Tandy Napier's been here. Her daddy, too. We haven't really talked in years, not since his wife passed. We had a nice chat." She audibly brightened. "The ladies from Houston came. We had us a fine visit. That was so sweet of them to drive all that way."

Phin had met the ladies from Houston on an earlier case. They had become fast friends with Joy. It was no surprise they'd come to see her.

"How about get-well cards, Joy?" Phin said. "Any of those?"

"Why?" Joy asked, all levity gone from her voice.

"We think we have a lead on Cora's father's killer," Burke said quietly. "We need a handwriting sample. Did anyone leave you a card?"

"Only Jace. He was so proud of himself because he wrote the message himself."

Jace was Val's adopted son and struggled with dyslexia. That he'd written a note of any length was a major achievement.

I need to see him. The kid craved affection and male role models.

Not that Phin was the best role model, but he genuinely liked the boy. He'd make time for him as soon as he could.

"So nothing else," Burke asked, disappointed. "Look, Joy. How well do you know Patrick Napier?"

There was a shocked gasp on the other end of the line. "He shot me?"

"No, we don't think so," Burke said hastily. "Wrong body type. But he might be somehow involved."

Joy was quiet a moment. "The letters."

"Goddamn, she's smart," Antoine said.

"Damn straight," Joy replied without missing a beat. "Don't you forget it. Did he write the letters, Burke?"

"That's what we're trying to find out."

"If he did, he could have been simply trying to make Cora feel better. Like her daddy still loved her, even though he was a lying, cheating sack of shit."

Val blinked. "He was dead, Joy."

"I know that," Joy said, disgruntled. "But Cora didn't. Nor did Patrick." Another pause, and then she seemed to understand it all. "Oh my God, Burke, you can't be serious. Patrick Napier can not have killed Cora's daddy. I've known Patrick since my girls were little. Nala went to school with Cora and Tandy. We did car pools and slumber parties." She sounded pained. "I don't know him as well as Priscilla did, but he's a good man. He fixed my garbage disposal once. I had to refix it, because he's a bad handyman, but his heart is in the right place. Tell me he's not on your suspect list. Tell me. "

Burke winced. "We don't want to be right. If we can exclude him quickly, more's the better."

Joy sighed. "What do you need from me? Want me to get him to write something?"

"Yes," Burke replied. "Something with a lowercase r ."

"?‘Your dad, Jack Elliot,'?" Joy said sadly. "For fuck's sake, this is a nightmare. Poor Cora. Does she know?"

"Yes," Phin said. "She's as upset as you'd expect. They knew each other, Joy—Cora's dad and Patrick. Pledged to the same frat at LSU."

"Motherfucker," Joy breathed. "I never knew about that. I don't think Priscilla knew, either. Motherfucker."

"Yeah," Burke said with a sigh. "That's what we thought, too."

"What other leads do we have?" Joy asked.

Burke brought her up to speed with what they knew, including the discovery of the weapon that had killed Jack Elliot in the dead hand of Medford Hughes, the presence of Renaissance-style paint on Jack's slacks, and the attempted arson of Cora's house the night before.

"Vincent Ray?" Joy murmured. "I knew his daddy. No good sonofabitch. Apple didn't fall far from that tree."

"How did you know him?" Phin asked.

"Busted his daddy's ass a time or two when I was on the force." Joy had been a detective when she'd been shot on the job. "Petty stuff back then. Shoplifting, vandalism. Vincent Sr. didn't get into the drug trade until later. His older brother—your intruder's uncle—was always smarter. He always managed to slide free of any legal entanglements. That family has themselves some damn fine attorneys."

"Do you keep tabs on them?" Burke asked.

"Not specifically. I watch the news feeds and listen when I go to lunch with my old partner from NOPD and his cronies. I've met Vincent Jr. He's been in my house a time or two. My youngest son knew him from the basketball court in the park. Wayne thought he might save Vinnie from his family, but no dice. If Vinnie broke into your place, I'd look at his uncle's connections. Is Vinnie still in jail?"

"As of a few hours ago, yes," Antoine said. "But he's been there less than twenty-four hours. My sources tell me that he hasn't yet spoken to the cops. Hasn't even asked for an attorney."

"His uncle is probably letting him stew," Joy said. "For being dumb enough to get himself caught. He was going to burn Cora's house down? Because that wouldn't have worked. There are sprinklers throughout the house."

Phin frowned, because something didn't make sense. "Did Patrick also know there were sprinklers? Because Cora says he fixes a lot of things in the house."

Joy snorted. "Tries to. He tried to fix a loose electrical socket for Priscilla once and she had to call an electrician when the thing started to spark. He couldn't have sent Vincent to burn Cora's house down, if that's what you're insinuating. He knew about the sprinklers."

"Maybe he didn't want the whole house to burn down," Phin said quietly. "Just the contents of the attic."

"Shit," Joy muttered. "Did I make things muddier or clearer?"

"Neither and both," Burke said with a frustrated chuckle. "You get some rest, Joy. We'll be by tomorrow."

"With cupcakes," Joy demanded. "Val, you better bring me some or Antoine will be my favorite Burkette."

Burke blinked as Antoine sputtered.

"Burkette?" they said together.

Joy cackled. "I said what I said. Burke Broussard and the Burkettes. Cupcakes, people. Or don't bother showing your faces." She laughed. "Okay, that was wrong. Please bring cupcakes and your faces. I miss you guys."

"We miss you, too," Phin said.

"Love you, Joy," Val said.

"Not a freaking Burkette," Antoine said.

"I'll bring cupcakes," Burke said. "Sleep, Joy. Love you." He ended the call and shook his head. "I do love that woman."

So did Phin. "I'm glad she's going to be all right."

Burke reached across the table and slapped Phin's shoulder. "Thanks to you and your friend Stone." He settled back in his chair. "What are our other leads? Where is Molly's whiteboard?"

"Still hidden in the pantry," Val said. "Want me to get it?"

Burke shook his head. "Antoine's been taking notes. It just feels…brainstormier if Molly's got her whiteboard."

Phin shook his head, laughing under his breath. His friends were ridiculous. "What about Medford Hughes? The gun that killed him was the same gun that killed Jack Elliot. Why was Hughes killed? What was his role with our laptops? He didn't steal them. Did he try to break into them before he died?"

"Somebody did," Antoine said. "That's what set off my alarm."

Phin rewound the conversation with Clancy in his mind. "What about the wife's sister? She might know who Hughes was connected with."

"She already told Clancy," Val said. "He works his job and volunteers with his church."

"He clearly did more than that, because somebody killed him," Antoine said logically. "The person who shot Joy and stole our stuff could have just thrown the laptops in a dumpster somewhere, but he didn't. Somehow they ended up with Medford Hughes. As did Jack's murder weapon."

Phin had a thought, because Clancy wasn't a stupid cop. "I wonder if Clancy wants us to talk to the sister. Maybe come at it from a non-cop perspective. He didn't have to tell us that the sister gave him that information, but he did."

Burke's smile was approving once again. "We need to talk to the sister. Dig more into Medford Hughes's life."

"I want to go with you," Cora said from behind them.

They turned as one, Phin rising as Cora came into the kitchen. He cupped her cheek in his palm, happy when she leaned into his touch. "You're supposed to be asleep."

She shrugged. "My phone woke me up. Text from Tandy. She'll be here in a few minutes."

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 6:30 P.M.

"Thank you, Phin." Sitting at her kitchen table, Cora cupped her hands around the mug of tea. She was so cold and her stomach hurt.

Tandy was coming and Cora was going to have to ask her some very difficult questions.

Phin put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. "She's my best friend," she murmured.

"We can ask the questions," Phin offered.

Cora wanted to say yes.

"It might be better if we do," Val said with a sympathetic grimace. "We can be more objective."

Cora swallowed. "She's my best friend," she repeated, her voice flat and dull. Just like she felt inside. "She's been there for me every day of my life since we were in the third grade. She was with me when John Robert took his last breath. I can't hurt her this way."

"We can tell her that you've gone back to sleep," Burke said. "In my opinion, we shouldn't even be asking her any of this. Not until we can more deeply investigate her father. She's going to tell him, Cora."

Cora stared at the tea in her cup. "If it's not him, if you're wrong, it'll hurt him. If you're right and he did kill my father, he might up his efforts to get to me." She looked up, met Burke's gaze, fully aware that Phin was scowling beside her. "Then you can catch him."

"You will not be bait," Phin said harshly.

Turning her focus to him, Cora used her thumb to smooth away the deep, angry lines caused by his frown. "I'm not going to hide in my house forever. I want this over. If being bait to draw Patrick out is necessary, that's what I'll do. You guys are good at protection, right? I'm in good hands."

Phin's eyes narrowed. "You're manipulating us. Me."

"I know. Makes it no less true." She drew a breath. "Let me start. It'll seem less intimidating if I start us out. I may blame you all for thinking Patrick could be guilty."

"That's okay," Burke said gently. "We can be the bad guys. It wouldn't be the first time."

A key turned in the front lock and Tandy called, "Cora? I'm here."

Val's brows were raised. "You gave her a key?"

Cora nodded. "When she was here last night, helping us search. Before we knew about the Renaissance paint." She turned in her chair. "In the kitchen, Tandy."

Tandy blew in like she usually did, wearing a chic pantsuit, her blond hair up in its usual ponytail. She dropped a kiss on Cora's cheek before grinning at the arm Phin had draped over her shoulder.

"You go, girl," she said happily, then looked at the faces around the table. Everyone was sober and suddenly Tandy was as well. "What's going on?"

Cora had to make herself breathe. "Can you sit down? I need to ask you some things that aren't going to be easy for either of us."

Frowning now, Tandy sat next to Antoine and across from Cora. "I heard about Minnie. I'm sorry."

Cora closed her eyes, the guilt and loss like a knife. "Me too." Just do it. She opened her eyes and met Tandy's gaze. "This is…well, I don't believe it, but there are loose ends and we need to…" She trailed off, unable to form the words.

She thought that Phin or one of the others would jump in, but they were respecting her wishes. They remained quiet as she searched for the right words.

There were no right words. Only thousands of wrong ones.

"I went to Houma today. Saw the detective who was investigating my father's murder."

"Okay," Tandy said warily, her glance flicking from face to face. "And?"

"My father's pants had a stain. Lazurite, iron oxide, and manganese oxide."

Tandy's eyes widened, the meaning of those compounds immediately clear. "Old paint formulas. Wow. I didn't know your father was an artist."

Cora wished there were booze in her mug instead of tea. "He wasn't. The detective—and all these guys—believe the paint was transferred from his killer's clothing to my father's."

Tandy sat back in her chair. "His killer was a painter? Or a restorer, maybe."

Cora nodded. "That was my first thought." She dropped her gaze to her tea. She couldn't look at Tandy for this part. Coward. Look her in the eye if you're accusing her father of murder.

So Cora looked back up and nearly broke her resolve because Tandy had the most loving, sympathetic, worried look in her eyes. That was not going to last.

"The letter writer has a tremor. Wobbles his r 's."

Tandy just looked confused. "Okay. What is it, Cora? Tell me. Have you found the letter writer?" She winced. "Is it Harry? I can't think of anyone else who's still alive who's known you that long."

"Harry is someone that they're looking at." Another deep breath. "Did you know that our fathers knew each other in college? That they belonged to the same fraternity? That they graduated the same year and shared a major?"

They would have lived in the same frat house. They would have shared meals, beers. They would have talked with each other.

They knew each other.

Cora couldn't bring herself to add any of those words and she didn't need to.

Tandy's expression changed. Wariness became cold defensiveness. "No. I didn't know that. How do you know that?"

Phin slid the yearbook across the table, two sticky notes marking the pages. "They're both in here."

"Are they." Tandy said it flatly, because she wasn't stupid. She knew what they were insinuating. She looked at the pages, one after the other, her lips firm and her eyes flinty. "And?"

Cora squeezed the mug so hard that she half expected it to shatter in her hands. "Tandy, I know you've done some art restoration for the gallery. Did your father ever do art restoration work? Or paint with the old paints?"

Face like a stone, Tandy lurched to her feet. "I don't believe this."

Val sighed. "Tandy, we're sorry. It's our job to put facts together and then rule things out or move forward with them. Cora says our theory isn't possible and wanted to get some information from you so that we could cross this theory off our list."

Still furious, Tandy sat back down. "What information?"

Cora had never heard her sound so cold. Tandy was vivacious and colorful, fun and loving. Unless you insinuated her father was a killer.

"You all moved to New Orleans when you were eight. Right?" Cora asked.

Tandy nodded, her jaw clenched tight. "We did."

"You lived in Thibodaux before," Cora whispered. "Near Houma."

Tandy was breathing hard and fast. "Yes. I have vague memories of the house."

"You told me about it when we first met. How you missed it. You had a tree house in the backyard and a room just for your plushies." Cora's voice cracked a little and Tandy's eyes softened, just a hair.

Please, don't hate me. Please.

"I did. Why, Cora?"

"You went from living in a small house in Thibodaux to owning a house and the gallery in the Quarter. Do you remember how your father paid for them?"

The softness disappeared, the coldness returning. "Do I need a lawyer, Mr. Broussard?"

"No," Burke said calmly. "We didn't make this up, Miss Napier. We're just following the leads. And the money. It's an adage for a reason."

Tandy squared her shoulders. "My father's aunt died. Left him an inheritance. He'd always wanted a gallery. So he and my mother started one."

"Did he do restorations?" Cora asked quietly.

"No." Tandy sounded sure.

Cora exhaled in relief. She'd known it wasn't possible. "Thank God," she whispered.

Tandy crossed her arms over her chest. "Go on, Cora. Ask your questions."

Cora's relief was momentary. Tandy wasn't going to forgive her for this.

"Did he do any travel to New Orleans before you guys moved here?"

Tandy laughed and it was a horrible sound. "You mean, did he come and spy on you? I remember the letters, Cora. Are you asking if he came to New Orleans to see what color your Christmas dress was?"

Cora's eyes filled with tears. "Yes."

Tandy was breathing hard, sounding more like a bull than the lady she was. "I don't remember."

Cora flinched, feeling like she'd been slapped. Because that was a lie. She'd known Tandy far too long not to know her tells.

Tandy had just lied to her.

She realized that she'd let go of the mug and had pressed her hand to her heart, which ached.

Lips pursed, Tandy arched a brow, daring Cora to say anything more.

Cora dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "My father had a secret Swiss bank account. He also had a dangerous side business. Like WITSEC, but private."

Tandy blinked. Her arms slowly released the death grip they'd had on each other, her hands falling to the table. "What?"

Cora nodded. "I met one of his clients, a woman who'd hired him to get her out of an abusive marriage."

"So anyone could have killed your father," Tandy said, cold once again. "A jealous husband or the mob, even. He probably deserved what he got."

Cora had considered both of those possibilities. Still Tandy's words hurt. "Maybe. But his killer got Renaissance-era paint on my father's clothing."

Tandy drew a controlled breath and let it out. "I understand why your PIs are asking these questions, but you need to call your dogs off, Cora. My father has done nothing but love you and help you, and that you'd participate in this line of questioning is…I don't even know. Because I can hear your doubt. I can hear your suspicion. And it's ugly, Cora. So damn ugly. This isn't like you. I don't even know who you are anymore." She pushed her chair away from the table and rose, chin lifted. "I'm going to walk out of your house, and I don't want to hear from you again. I might be able to forgive someday, but right now, it's best if you don't contact me." She dropped something and it clanged as it hit the table. It was the key Cora had given her. "Do you understand?"

Cora felt numb, because she understood perfectly. Tandy had just cut her out of her life. "Are there any copies of my key?"

"No. And fuck you for asking. Stay away from my father, Cora Winslow." Tandy swept her gaze across the PIs' faces. "All of you. Stay the fuck away from my father. I'll get a restraining order. And I will sue you and everyone in your employ, Mr. Broussard, if you continue this defamation."

She swept out of the kitchen in a cloud of fury.

A moment later the front door slammed, shaking the house.

Cora bowed her head. I'm sorry, Tandy. She knew how it felt to have the rug pulled out from under you.

There was absolute silence around the table. Cora didn't want to look up. Didn't want to see the pity on their faces.

"Was there an aunt who left him an inheritance?" she asked, eyes on her tea.

"None that I've found so far," Antoine said quietly. "I'll keep looking."

She felt so damn tired. "Am I a fool for hoping there's an aunt?"

Phin hugged her to his side. "No. Go on hoping that, Cora. We'll keep you safe until we prove it either way."

There were a lot of we s in Phin's words tonight. He was finally feeling a part of Broussard Investigations.

At least some good had come of this day.

"She lied, didn't she?" Val asked.

Cora nodded, still not looking up. "Patrick must have done some traveling before they moved. Doesn't mean he came to New Orleans."

"No, it doesn't." Burke's tone was kind. "But it's another piece of the puzzle, and I think you know that."

She could only nod.

"Is it possible," Phin asked slowly, "that some of those trips could have been to search for any incriminating evidence in Cora's house?"

"He would have had to break in," Val said. "We can check to see if her mother filed a police report."

"We can ask Harry," Cora said, her voice barely a whisper. It was like she didn't have enough air to speak any louder. "If you trust him."

Phin stroked a hand over her hair. "I don't trust anyone in your past right now, but I'd like to see the man's face if and when we do ask him. Although he is an attorney. He might be able to hide his reaction. I'll go with you."

Thank you, Phin.

"We can talk to him tomorrow," Cora said. She gathered her courage and looked up, relieved not to see an iota of pity on their faces. It was more understanding and sympathy, but not pity.

Except for Phin. His eyes were filled with sadness.

For me. It was an unexpected balm on her sore heart.

It gave her enough of a respite to remember that this wasn't all about her. It was a fair bit about her, but not all.

Joy had been shot.

Minnie had been murdered.

And Medford Hughes and his wife were also dead.

Not all about you.

"So what's next?" she asked, gratified that her voice didn't shake.

Phin's expression shifted from sad to proud. "We keep searching in the attic for whatever your father left behind."

"We keep trying to break into his partitioned hard drive," Antoine said. "And I'm going to search Patrick's family ancestry. I'm hoping to find a rich aunt for you."

"We dig into that little punk who tried to set your attic on fire," Val said. She hesitated. "I'm going in with the assumption that Patrick hired him."

"I understand," Cora said, because she did. She didn't like it and couldn't believe it. But she understood it.

"I'm going back to Houma tomorrow," Burke said, "to check with all those stores across from the Damper Building. I want to know who was there twenty-three years ago. I want to find out what people remember about the days around the time your dad was buried there."

Cora needed to ask her next question, but it hurt thinking about. "What about Minnie? Do the police have any leads into her murder?"

"None yet," Antoine said. "None that have been uploaded to the online files. We can call my brother to ask."

"Captain Holmes," Cora said with a nod, then winced at the sharp pain in her temple.

Her head hurt. Her heart hurt.

Everything hurt.

It didn't matter. She had to pick herself up and move on.

I've done it before.

"And the sister-in-law of Medford Hughes?" she asked. "When do we see her?"

Burke made a face. "I was hoping you'd forgotten that you heard that."

"Not a chance," Cora said. "I want to meet her. I think Phin's right. Clancy mentioned her for a reason. Let's find out what that reason was."

"Tomorrow," Burke insisted. "Molly will be here soon to take over the night shift. She's bringing dinner. You will eat, Cora," he snapped when she started to refuse. "Afterward, we keep looking through the attic. Antoine continues trying to break into that old computer of your father's and looking for Patrick's aunt. I'm going to put one of my guys on Patrick's condo. I'm counting on Tandy telling her father straightaway what we told her. Including the fact that your father had a private WITSEC business and a Swiss bank account. Which, incidentally, I wish you hadn't shared, but that's water under the bridge now. I don't want Patrick running from us and based on what we know, I can see that happening."

Cora's nod was slight. It still hurt her head. "Okay."

Burke looked suspicious. "Which part is okay?"

"Most of it. If Patrick did this, he needs to be punished. If he didn't, I've lost my remaining family. But Joy and Minnie deserve the truth. I deserve the truth."

Phin's hand was warm on her back. "Yes, you do. And we will find it for you."

Burke was frowning. "You said most of it was okay. What part wasn't?"

Cora met the man's eyes. "The part where we wait until tomorrow to see Medford Hughes's sister-in-law."

"Goddammit," Burke spat. "I was afraid of that. It's a bad idea."

" All of this is a bad idea," Cora fired back, angry now. "Phin? You don't have to go with me, but I'd like it if you did."

"Then I will," he said. "You coming with us, Burke?"

Burke rolled his eyes. "Yes. Although I'm no longer sure who's running this investigation."

"Where does Hughes's sister-in-law live?" Cora asked.

Phin held out his phone. "I found her address. She lives in Mid-City. Let's eat first, then we'll go over."

She leaned her head against his biceps, so tired of all of this. "Okay."