Chapter 8

8

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 10:30 P.M.

"THIS MAGNIFYING GLASS IS AMAZING." Molly Sutton slid another credit card receipt under the large magnifying glass that Cora had brought to the kitchen table. "Where can I get one?"

Cora's fingers trembled slightly on her computer keyboard as she waited for Molly to read the details of the receipt. They'd been at it for an hour, Molly keeping up a steady stream of pleasant chatter as they'd built a spreadsheet of her father's business expenses from the year he'd died.

Cora knew the woman was trying to take her mind off the fact that they'd learned the man who'd possessed Burke's and Joy's laptops had been found dead in his car, a bullet hole in his head. Which would have been bad enough, but Phin had discovered evidence that made it look like the man had been murdered.

Just like my father. Bullet to the head.

"Cora?"

Cora jerked her attention back to the blonde. "I'm sorry. My mind drifted. Can you repeat the question?"

"I asked where I can get a magnifying glass like this. It's sturdy and hands-free. It would make my life so much easier."

"It was my grandmother's. I don't know where she got it, honestly. She'd use it for her needlepoint and quilting. I'm sure you can find something similar on Amazon."

"Not like this. I think this is at least a hundred years old. Your house is full of genuinely old stuff. I love it."

Cora's lips turned up. "When this is over, feel free to come back and help me sort all the genuinely old stuff so that I can sell it."

"I might buy some of it. My sister would love something with history for her birthday." She lifted her brows. "We could get Phin to help us move boxes. And then you could watch him while his muscles flex."

Cora coughed. "I…I don't even know how to respond to that."

Molly chuckled. "He's a fine-looking man, our Phin. And, as far as I know, unattached."

"Are you matchmaking, Molly?"

"I am so matchmaking. He's a nice guy and he doesn't warm up to people easily. But he warmed up to you right away."

"I hope he's okay. I don't imagine it would be easy for him to see something so grisly as that man's body."

"That's true, but Antoine said the dog is making a big difference. I'm going to have to talk to the woman who trained him and get some tips for my fiancé's dog. Shoe is generally well behaved, but he's earned his name. He chews shoes."

"Your shoes?"

"No, it's always Gabe's shoes. I think it's because Gabe's spilled something delicious on them at the Choux. That's his restaurant."

Cora perked up. "Le Petit Choux? I love that place. You're engaged to the owner?"

"I am. I'll ask him to send over some supper tomorrow that's shellfish free. You ready for the next receipt?"

Cora nodded. "Go for it."

"Days Inn; Tucson, Arizona; May 12. Memo: four nights lodging."

Cora typed it in, her heart sinking a little more. During the last year of his life, her father had stayed at ten hotels in places far outside the New Orleans metro area. They still had three years of receipts to review, so this was likely to only get worse. "This isn't looking good for my father's fidelity, is it? Tucson, Austin, Wichita. As far away as Casper, Wyoming."

"Doesn't mean he was cheating on your mom," Molly said. "That's usually the first conclusion people jump to, but there are other explanations."

"Like?" Cora asked, desperate to discover a legitimate reason for Jack Elliot's travel. The thought of her mother seeing the receipts and believing the worst broke Cora's heart.

"I don't know. The first thing we're going to do is input as many of the receipts as we can still read. The ones that are too faded to read, I'm putting aside. Antoine might be able to help me get better resolution on the ink that remains. Then we look for patterns."

"So far, there are no patterns."

"That's a pattern, too. If he visited the same place repeatedly, he might have a business associate there."

"Or a lover," Cora murmured. "I won't shatter, Molly. If that's what it is, I'll deal."

"I know you won't shatter. You're too strong for that."

Cora hoped she would be when she learned the truth. "And if we don't find repeated destinations?"

"Well, first we'll cross-check locations against the client list that Antoine will pull from those disks he found. And if there are no out-of-town clients, then we have to assume one of two things. First, that maybe he was involved in something—not accounting related—where he did a job for one person and moved on to the next."

Which might be something legal. Please, let it have been legal.

"The second assumption?"

Molly met her gaze. "That he was going to different places to throw off anyone tracking his movements."

"Like my mother?"

"Or the governing board that regulates and disciplines accountants." Molly put the hotel receipt in the finished pile and pulled another from the folder. "But the very fact that he kept all these receipts is a mark in the legal column. If I were doing something shady, I sure wouldn't keep receipts."

"I hope you're right."

"Me too," Molly said as she slid the next receipt under the glass. "Huh. Your father bought something from a gun store in Twin Falls, Idaho, just two weeks before he died. Specifically, .30-30 shells. Three boxes. That's a fair amount of ammo." She straightened and looked at Cora. "Did your father own a gun?"

Cora blinked. "Not that I know of. Mama hated guns. I think they would have argued over him having a gun in the house when we were little, but I don't remember that."

"You were only five when he disappeared," Molly said gently.

"True. Those shells, the .30-30. That's rifle ammo, isn't it?"

"It is. He could have been hunting, I suppose."

Cora bit her lip. "Maybe. But you don't think so."

"I don't know what I think. Enter this: Bullseye gun store, Twin Falls, Idaho, October first. Memo: three boxes of .30-30 shells." Molly put the receipt in the finished pile. "We'll keep a lookout for more guns or ammo purchases." She'd started to reach for another receipt when her phone began to buzz. "Excuse me. This is Burke."

Molly put the phone to her ear. "Well?" She listened for a moment. "She's here. I'll put you on speaker." She set the phone on the table. "We're here, Burke."

"Hey, Cora," Burke said, his tone easy and unruffled. That had to be good, right?

"Hey, Burke. What happened with the dead man?"

"Cops are processing the scene. The ME came and took him to the morgue."

Cora frowned. "And I bet they won't share information with us."

"Maybe," Burke drawled. "We have a source inside the morgue who sometimes tells us stuff."

"One of Antoine's brothers is doing his residency there," Molly told Cora. "We try not to ask for info unless it's important, but this qualifies."

"It certainly does," Burke agreed. "André came to the crime scene, Molly. They're going to investigate it as a homicide."

"Who's André?" Cora whispered.

"Another of Antoine's brothers," Molly said. "He's a captain in the NOPD. He and Burke used to work together before Burke quit the force to start the firm. That's good, Burke. Hopefully we'll get some answers."

"Well, it got a little more complicated when the cops knocked on the door of the dead man's house. They figured they'd find the wife asleep, but she's dead, too. Dead in her bed. André said she appeared to be an addict. Track marks on both arms."

"How did she die?" Molly asked. "Was it an overdose?"

"Maybe, but the ME suspects suffocation."

Cora's hand flew to cover her mouth. "Oh my God."

Molly patted her other hand. "You don't have to stay here and listen."

"Sorry, Cora," Burke said.

"It's okay. I was just startled. Why do they think suffocation?" Her brain was racing through what she knew about this cause of death. "Petechiae?"

The small red pinpricks due to capillary leakage.

"Very good," Burke said. "More of your librarian superpower?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Cora said. "A woman came into the library searching the term because her elderly mother had been suffocated by a greedy relative."

Molly lifted her brows. "You really do see all kinds of stuff. I never knew librarians had such a stressful job."

Cora put the memory of the devastated woman aside. "Was I right? The ME found petechiae?"

"The standard answer is that they'll know when they get the body on the table, but I overheard the ME telling André that he thought he'd seen it. We'll know more over the next few days."

Cora's mind was spinning. "So…if the man was murdered, it was staged to look like a murder-suicide?"

"That's the cops' theory," Burke said. "I'm heading to the hospital to take Joy's kids some dinner. Choux food. Thanks, Molly."

Molly just smiled. "I dare you to try to keep Gabe from feeding Joy's family. He sent over meals all day long."

Cora hesitated, then blurted out the question she wanted to ask. "Is Phin all right?"

"He's good," Burke said warmly. "I just dropped him off at his house. His friends are there and they'll take good care of him. Plan on him arriving early tomorrow morning to finish securing your windows."

"Thank you." Cora wished she could have checked with the man herself, but she didn't have his phone number. "Have him call me when he gets here. I don't always hear the doorbell if I'm upstairs."

Plus, that would give her Phin's number.

Molly's sly smile indicated that Cora hadn't been as smooth as she'd hoped.

"Try to sleep tonight, Cora," Burke was saying. "Molly's on the job, and she's my right hand."

Phin wants to be a bodyguard, too.

Not my business.

"I'll sleep well. I didn't last night. I was up putting sensors on all the windows. There are too many windows in this house."

Burke chuckled. "That's exactly what Phin said. Night, ladies. Molly, you call if you need anything."

"Night, Burke." Molly ended the call, her eyes sparkling. "You realize that our protocol is for Phin to call me to let him in, since I'm your bodyguard."

Cora fought the urge to hide her face. "I've never had a bodyguard before. I don't know the protocol."

Molly laughed. "Touché. Do you want Phin's number?"

Cora knew her cheeks were burning. It was the curse of being a redhead. "Yes."

Molly tapped her phone and Cora's buzzed with an incoming text. "There you go. Get some sleep, Cora. You're safe with me."

"Thank you. Blue should go out once more before I go up."

Molly sobered. "I'll do it. You're not to leave the house without me or Val, who'll be your day bodyguard."

Cora shuddered. "Okay. I'm not foolish, Molly. I won't try to ditch you."

"Thank you. Go on now. Sleep."

Obediently, Cora climbed the stairs. Her bedroom had been a sanctuary for so long. Now she jumped at every brush of a branch against her window. There was a door to the balcony outside—a door that sported a brand-new lock, courtesy of Phin Bishop.

That made her feel safer than the knowledge that a trained bodyguard roamed downstairs. She slipped under her blanket, her phone clutched in one hand.

Burke's people would keep whoever was after her from getting in. She had to believe that. Molly seemed like a very capable bodyguard.

Cora rolled to her back, staring up at the ceiling. She'd told Burke that she'd sleep well, but that might have been a lie. Here, in the quiet of her bedroom, the truth of the day was loud in her head.

I have a bodyguard. Because someone is after me.

Way to make it all about you .

But it was all about her. Well, her and Joy.

And Phin. She'd gleaned enough to know that he'd have a hard time with whatever he'd seen tonight, especially after his ordeal that morning.

Worrying about Phin was preferable to worrying about herself. She'd learned that at an early age. Worrying about other people was always easier. Or at least it didn't feel as selfish.

Burke had said Phin was okay, but was he really? After all, Burke was the one who'd thought Phin was capable of hurting Joy, so Cora wouldn't put too much stock in his opinion on this.

Without overthinking it, she opened a text window to the cell number that Molly had sent her.

This is Cora. I hope you're okay after everything that happened tonight. Give SodaPop a pet from me. Hope you sleep well. She added a snoozy emoji, then hit send.

There. At least the man knew someone cared.

She glanced at the time. She'd been in bed for all of five minutes and it felt like five hours.

Someone was after her. And her father had gone to all those cities—without her mother.

He'd bought ammo in Twin Falls, Idaho. Why? Did he have a rifle? Why did he have a rifle? If he had had one, where was it?

Had he hidden it in the house? Her mind started spinning through all the places he could have hidden something that big. The attic alone would take forever to search.

I'm not going to sleep tonight, am I?

No, she was not. Heaving out a sigh, she opened her phone's e-reader app, wincing when she saw the cover of the true crime she'd been reading. That wasn't likely to make her any less worried.

She scrolled through her to-be-read list, happy when she found a fantasy novel. There were no guns in this story. Only swords and dragons. She'd sourced it for the library herself. She could lose herself in this story for tonight.

And she could sleep when the danger was past.

Or if Phin was in the house. She'd slept so well when he'd been working on her doors.

Maybe tomorrow he'd come over and she could sleep then.

St. Claude, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 11:45 P.M.

Delores O'Bannion put a cup of coffee on the TV tray table that she'd placed in front of the sofa. "It's decaf," she said.

Phin glared at the cup. "I know I didn't have any decaf in my house."

Delores grinned like the pixie she was. "I bought you some. You're wound too tight, Phin."

That was true.

"It's just easier to drink the decaf," Stone said from the recliner Phin had rescued from the curb over the summer. He'd cleaned it, refinished the wood, and reupholstered the cushions. It was a damn nice chair now.

And that he'd taken before-and-after photos had been his first clue that he was almost ready to face his family. He and Scarlett had rescued furniture and fixed it up for donations to the church where their uncle was a priest. He wanted to share the photos with his twin.

But there was a mental blockage. The same blockage that had kept him from sending even a text for five years.

Burke was wrong. I am a coward. I'm a coward and a fraud and I don't deserve to be—

A lick to his face had him wrenching to look down at SodaPop, who was sitting nearly in his lap.

Phin exhaled, aware that he'd been ready to spiral once again. Good girl. He glanced up at Delores, who was still standing in front of him. "You were right," he murmured.

She smirked. "I know. Don't ditch her again, okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

Delores took the other side of the sofa, and the three of them sipped their coffee in silence for several minutes until Stone cleared his throat. "Tell us about it, Phin."

Stalling for time to think, Phin took a large gulp of coffee, grateful it had cooled enough not to scald his mouth. "It was ugly. The man, anyway. I didn't see the woman."

He was grateful for that, too.

"It was supposed to look like murder-suicide?" Delores asked.

"Yes. At least that's what the police were thinking." That he'd helped discover that Medford Hughes had been murdered gave him a spark of pride.

That was good. That was progress. The two sitting in his living room deserved to know that, so he told them about finding the smeared blood on the trunk and the Faraday bag on the curb. When he finished, both of his friends were beaming at him.

"You were part of the team," Stone said, like he was cheering on a kid in Little League.

Phin nodded. "I was. It was…affirming."

"I'm proud of you," Delores said, her voice a little thick. A glance her way revealed that her eyes were filled with tears.

"Delores," Phin started, but she waved his words away with a choked laugh.

"I'm just happy. Let me be happy for you."

So he did. He let himself bask in their approval. "And I didn't spiral." He stroked SodaPop's coat. "I started to and she distracted me."

"Huge," Stone said, still grinning. "Good girl, SodaPop. That kind of scene is your biggest trigger."

It was. Seeing blood and brains and…

Phin drew a deep breath when the coffee soured in his stomach. Nope, not going there. He lowered his head to SodaPop's, nuzzling her with his cheek. She gave him a lick.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"She's a good dog," Delores said.

"She is," Phin agreed. "I'm so glad you started training service dogs." There were too few organizations training animals for an ever-increasing population who needed them. Like me.

I'm lucky. I have friends who care about me, here and at work.

He also had a family who cared. A family he hadn't done right by.

"I'm going home for Christmas," he said abruptly.

Stone's smile softened into something even prouder than it had been before. "Good."

Delores grimaced. "When they find out we've been hiding you all this time…"

"I won't tell them," Phin said. "I wouldn't do that to you."

Delores pointed to SodaPop. "Everyone knows I was training her. They'll know where you got her."

Not for the first time, Phin considered what a difficult position he'd put his friends in. Stone's brother Marcus was married to Phin's twin sister, Scarlett. "I'm sorry. I've caused strife."

Stone shook his head. "Marcus will understand. So will Scarlett, once she's over her mad. You worry about yourself. Delores, just give Scarlett her pick of Angel's next litter. She'll be happy again."

Angel was Delores's wolfhound, and Phin loved her. That his twin did, too, was no surprise. He knew that Scarlett had adopted a dog from Delores's animal shelter, a three-legged bulldog she'd named Zatoichi, after the blind swordsman adventure movies they'd loved as teens.

Delores nodded, her smile returning. "Good idea." Her expression turned a little sly. "So, Phin. Tell us about Cora Winslow."

Phin's face grew hot. "She's a nice woman who needs our help."

Stone's laugh was the tiniest bit dirty. "You dog, you. You like her."

Phin rolled his eyes. "I do. She's…well…kind and pretty damn brave. I hate that she's scared. I know what that feels like."

"To be getting letters all these years from someone who was clearly watching her," Delores murmured. "That poor woman. She's got to be feeling betrayed."

"That too. It sank in with her tonight that whoever was writing the letters did so because they didn't want her to report her father's disappearance to the police. It's someone who's close enough to her to know that she was looking for her father a few years ago." He explained her brother's cancer and the search for a marrow donor. "We're going to have to make a list of people who knew that she was searching for him. That'll make her feel even more betrayed."

First on his list was that attorney from this morning. The man who'd known that someone was after her but left her to fend for herself. Who'd known her since she'd been born.

"Better to feel betrayed than to feel dead," Stone said, then winced when Delores hissed at him. "That didn't come out right. Sorry."

Phin shook his head. "No, you're right. But it's still hard to watch her figuring all this out. I want to do something. But I don't know what."

"Be her friend," Delores said with a smile. "That's what my guy did. He did all kinds of sweet things for me. Made me feel safe."

Because Delores had been a victim of an attempted homicide years before. It was how she'd met Phin's sister, a homicide detective in Cincinnati. Delores knew how important feeling safe really was.

Phin smiled back at her. "How did he do that?"

"He'd sneak around my dog shelter and clean the cages when I was asleep. And then he'd sleep on my front porch to make sure no one bothered me. He didn't leave, even when the mosquitoes ate him up."

Stone was staring at the ceiling, clearly embarrassed. "Delores," he whined. "You make me sound like a sap."

"You were," she said with a twinkle in her eyes before turning back to Phin. "I knew he was out there, and one night I invited him in. Made him coffee."

"Decaf?" Phin asked.

"Hell no," Stone muttered. "Decaf is swill. Sorry, not sorry."

"You're not wrong," Phin agreed. "And then?

"Then I told him that if he was determined to haunt my property, he could sleep on my sofa so he wouldn't be all bug-bitten. From there, we just grew together. If you want Cora to feel safe, show her that she is safe."

Phin nodded slowly. "I replaced the locks on her doors today. I'll do the windows tomorrow. And she asked me to do some handyman work around her place."

Delores nodded. "Very good start. If you're working around her house, she won't be alone."

"She has bodyguards," Phin said. "Molly and Val."

"That's good," Delores said. "Even better, actually. You'll have backup and that should decrease your anxiety. When will you begin?"

That she thought this was a done deal nearly made him smile. It was so very Delores. "I told her that I'd have to work around you guys. I don't want to just leave you to your own devices. You won't be here that long."

"We'll be here as long as you need us," Delores said firmly. "Start on her house, Phin. Stone and I have a long list of things we want to see in New Orleans. And places we want to eat."

"The food," Stone said with a groan. "Oh my God, the food. Seriously, Phin, don't babysit us. If you need us, call. Otherwise, we are on a well-earned vacation. Delores has volunteers working at the shelter, so we're good for a while. We have a free bed here and a kitchen. Just pretend we're boarders. Fix that woman's house."

Phin's smile was slow and felt deep. "Okay." His phone buzzed, and he blinked at the screen. "It's a text from Cora."

This is Cora. I hope you're okay after everything that happened tonight. Give SodaPop a pet from me. Hope you sleep well.

Delores leaned over Phin's arm, reading the text with unabashed interest. "Awww." She read it to Stone, who looked pleased. "Well, answer her."

Phin froze. "I don't even know what to say."

Delores returned to her corner of the sofa, her expression one of challenge. " Are you okay?"

Phin thought about it. He'd witnessed a man's brains coating the inside of his car tonight. Then watched as the man's wife was wheeled out in a body bag. Not to mention being interrogated by the cops for the second time that day.

"Not really. Better than I've been in the past, though, thanks to SodaPop."

"Then tell her that," Delores instructed. "Do it, Phineas."

"Just do it, Phineas," Stone echoed, resigned. "It's so much easier."

"You've given-named me," Phin said, trying for light and not coming close. "I guess I have to do it now." But his fingers were thicker than usual as he tried to type. He finally got the words on the screen and hit send.

"Now thank her," Delores said. "And wish her nice dreams."

Phin laughed. "Okay, Mom." He did as she said and was surprised when Cora texted back. Hoping to dream of dragons. The text was accompanied by a screenshot of the cover of a fantasy novel. "I don't think she can sleep."

Stone pointed to the stairs. "Then go upstairs and text with her until she can."

Phin stared at him. "And say what?"

Both of his friends just stared at him pointedly.

"Fine," Phin grunted. He pushed off the sofa and clucked to SodaPop. "Come on, girl. We've been dismissed." He took the dog to his tiny backyard and leaned against his house while SodaPop sniffed the dirt.

Tell me about the dragons , he texted, then smiled when she began to do so.