CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“We’re making a habit of this, fellas,” said Felix.

“Believe me, we’re not any happier with this than you are. What do we have, Felix?” asked Ghost.

“Forty-one-year-old male, Joshua Potter. Sells cars at Carlisle Auto near Metairie. Wife, son, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, appears to be in good physical condition.”

Nine raised the man’s arms, seeing the ligature marks on his wrists. The others nodded, understanding the connection.

“Two knife wounds, well placed. One here in the abdomen, the other along the side, artfully placed between the ribs. Stab wounds in the hands and feet. Post stab wounds, he was branded,” he said, rolling him to his side. There on his back was one word. Liar. The second brand was along the back of one thigh.

“Liar. What did he lie about? Did he lie to the killer?” asked Gaspar.

“I wish I knew,” said Felix.

Behind them, the door opened, and Wilson walked in with Julia and Noah. Julia immediately stopped, gripping Noah’s hand. Even the big man’s face turned gray, his knees shaking as Nine grabbed his arm while Wilson held his daughter.

“Y’all shouldn’t have come,” said Ghost. “You okay, honey?” Julia nodded.

“It’s so powerful in here. There are so many bodies.”

“I can wheel him into another room,” said Felix.

Noah nodded at him and waited as they moved their victim to a private area away from the rest of the death. It was better but still not great.

The men knew enough to remain quiet while Julia and Noah attempted to make a connection. It was rare when they couldn’t, but it did happen on occasion.

“He knew his killer,” said Noah, “but he can’t say the name. Something is preventing him from saying the name.”

“He forgives him,” whispered Julia. “He says he forgave him with his last breath.”

“What did he look like? A name? Anything?” asked Gaspar.

“Nothing. That’s it. His forgiveness opened the door for him. He’s gone now. I’m sorry. I really thought Noah and I could connect with him since the death was so recent.”

“It’s okay, honey. Does Joseph know that you’re here?” smirked Nine.

“I do,” said Joseph, walking in the door. “Didn’t I ask you to come and get me when you decided to do this again?”

Julia smiled at her husband, falling into his arms.

“I didn’t need to tell you. You already knew.” He couldn’t help but smile at her, hugging her, keeping her safe in his big arms.

“He knew his killer,” mumbled Nine. “He knew him, and the victim forgave him. I think we need to speak with the wife and see if we can find out if anyone at the church was a friend or maybe there was someone that he argued with.”

“Let’s go,” said Gaspar. “At this rate, we’re going to have more murders than we can handle.”

The number of cars parked outside the Potter home told the men that he was well-liked and certainly loved. The front door was open, and they stepped inside, looking left and right. Seated near the fireplace was a woman, her teenage son holding her hand.

“Mrs. Potter?” asked Ian.

“Yes, that’s me,” she sniffed.

“Mrs. Potter, we’re terribly sorry to bother you during this difficult time, but we’re trying to find out who murdered your husband, and we believe three women.”

“Are you with the police?” asked her son.

“No. We’re a private investigation company, and we’re helping a friend. I know this is a bad time, but unfortunately, time is of the essence,” said Ian compassionately.

The woman nodded, standing with the assistance of her son. The men frowned, staring down at her left leg in a brace. She looked up at the men, giving a pained smile.

“I was born like this,” she said quietly. “It didn’t bother my husband at all, which is one of the many reasons I fell in love with him.” She led them toward a small home office and took a seat at the desk.

“Mrs. Potter, were you aware of any issues that your husband might be having with someone at work or perhaps at church?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My husband was well-liked at the dealership. He was a top salesperson for them almost every year for the last fifteen years. Josh didn’t fight with anyone. He was always able to turn the other cheek, smile about it, and move on.”

“It’s true,” smiled his son. “Our neighbor got mad at him a few years ago because he built the fence in the backyard and didn’t ask him. It was our property. Dad didn’t have to ask him. He called him all kinds of names, and Dad just smiled, nodding at him. He never fought with anyone.”

“He sounds like a great man,” said Ian.

“What about the church?” asked Ghost. “Was there anyone there that might have had a problem with him?”

“No one,” said his wife. “Does this have something to do with Imelda’s death?”

“We’re not sure, but there are a few others as well,” said Nine. “Did you know the young woman, Matilda?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I knew the name because she worked in the office of the church, but I never met her. She was apparently very shy.”

“What about Stella Marchand?”

“I knew Stella. She was a young mother trying to do right by her family. I certainly didn’t agree with her choice of occupation, but I admired her for doing what she needed to do. When she came to church, she was always dressed appropriately, loving with her child and mother. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt that woman.”

“Did you ever hear anyone say something derogatory about her?” asked Nine.

“Never,” said the woman. “Reverend Sizemore wouldn’t have allowed it. He demanded that everyone respect one another at church. He just doesn’t tolerate fighting over silly things.”

“If you think of anything at all, please just call this number, and someone will reach out to you.” She nodded, taking the plain white card with the number on it. As she left the office, the teenager turned to the other men, half closing the office door.

“Something you want to say, son?” asked Nine.

“Mom, I love her, but she always saw the best in Dad. He was a good dad, a good husband, but he wasn’t always honest about the cars he sold. Some of them were real junkers that had been polished to make look good. I loved him, but I have to be honest, I’m not sure I respected my dad and what he did for a living.”

Gaspar frowned at the boy, turning to look at his friends.

“That was very brave of you to say, and it’s alright if you didn’t agree with everything your father did in his life. I’m sure he was doing what he thought was best for you and your mom.”

“Yes, sir. But he sold a car to a lady recently, and the brakes gave out while her engine caught fire. The doors were sticking, and she couldn’t open them and get out. Even the windows were jammed. She died from the wreck.”

“Was your father under suspicion?” asked Ian.

“No, sir. The dealership is, but not Dad. I-I just thought you should know that.” The boy left the room, and the four men stared at one another. Ghost finally spoke.

“This gets more fucked up by the minute.”

“We’ve got to find the connection in all of this, and we’re running out of time. This guy is escalating, killing more frequently,” said Gaspar.

“Then let’s get to work.”