Darkwater Lies

by Robin Caroll

  “Where are we going?” Beau asked as he eased away from the curb back into the flow of traffic.

  Marcel rattled off the address, which wasn’t very far from where they were. “Here’s the rundown on what we know about Larder, according to Sully Clements. He’s forty-two. Retired from the navy after having served two tours. Honorable discharge. Held a couple of security jobs for various local businesses before coming to the Darkwater about nine months ago. Never married, no significant other. No children. Parents are both deceased. No siblings.”

  Marcel paused to take a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Clements reports that Larder has been a good enough employee. Was easy to train. Kept to himself. Did his job. Has never called in and only took two days off in nine months for doctor check- ups. Never been late before. Clements says they’ve called him several times with no response. The calls go straight to voice mail.”

  “Well, isn’t it peculiar that the first time he decides to either be late or not show is the day after a major robbery where cyber thinks it’s an inside job.”

  Marcel didn’t answer, just took another sip of his coffee.

  Beau turned onto the street his partner had given. “Zach called this morning. The hacker definitely used a back-door-style hack, which he says he’s about ninety-nine percent certain had to be an inside job.”

  “The only people who had access to the system are the Pampalons—including Lissette—Addy, and the security department employees.”

  “I can’t imagine the Pampalons or Addy being involved since it’s very bad for business.” Beau took a sharp left. “Although, I have to admit, the delay in notifying the police was a bit of a shocker. They all should know better.”

  “Maybe, but remember, Pampalon junior and Addy are training Lissette, who couldn’t know procedure on such an event. I think it was just bad timing, nothing to make too much out of.”

  “Probably.” Still . . . Beau pulled the car in front of the small house and parked.

  The yard was meticulously manicured, unlike the neighbors’ up and down the street. The house itself appeared maintained—no peeling paint, rotting boards, or obvious cries for repair were visible. A Chevy sedan about six years old sat alone in the driveway. No spots of leaked fluids pooled underneath.

  The walkway to the front door had a smattering of leaves, but not too many, indicative of having been kept swept pretty often. The steps didn’t even creak as they climbed them. Marcel rang the doorbell, and the somber tone echoed to the front porch. No other sound came from inside.

  Marcel knocked on the front door. “New Orleans police.” Still no response.

  “Let’s check around back.” Beau stepped off the porch and moved into the fenceless backyard, which was just as methodically cared for as the front. The back patio held a small gas grill and an electronic smoker, of which the lids of both were shut, and both were anchored to the metal poles with chains. The neighborhood wasn’t the best part of the city, so the setup was understandable. Many homeowners, or even renters, took the small extra steps to secure their property.

  Beau opened the screen door and raised his hand to knock on the back door, then realized it wasn’t closed. He nodded at his partner as he pulled his handgun from its holster. Marcel did the same.

  “New Orleans police. We’re coming in.” Beau eased the door open and stepped inside. Marcel moved behind him, his own gun drawn as well.

  The kitchen was clean, held a two-chair dinette set, and was small and empty. Beau pointed to one of the rooms off to the side of the kitchen where they’d entered.

  Marcel nodded and moved in that direction. “New Orleans police.”

  Beau headed toward the front of the house. He could see the front door, deadbolt engaged, as he stepped into the den. Two chairs and a well-worn sofa faced a television on a stand. The carpet showed signs of wear, but the room was clean and tidy, even the bookshelves on either side of the pedestal TV stand.

  He turned to head down the hall.

  “Beau. In here.”

  Following the sound of Marcel’s voice, Beau entered the master bedroom with his gun at the ready.

  There was no need. Marcel stood over a lifeless body on the threadbare rug over the scuffed hardwood floors. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of anything out of the ordinary, in fact.

  Except for the dead body with what looked like a gunshot wound.

  Beau holstered his gun and looked at his partner. “Larder?”

  Marcel shrugged. “I’m guessing. I’ll call it in.” He stepped into the hall, cell to his ear.

  Beau carefully bent over the body. Shirtless, wearing sweatpants. He was about the right age to be Larder. The familiar navy anchor insignia was tattooed on the right shoulder blade. Looked like it’d been there for some time.

  “CSU and the coroner are both on the way. Nolan’s team is on call, but Walt’s already working on autopsies, so one of his juniors will be coming.” Marcel stayed in the hallway.

  Beau made his way to join his partner. “At least we’ll have Nolan’s team. We’ll need the best to make sure nothing is overlooked.”

  “We’ll need to notify Addy as soon as identification is confirmed.” Marcel glanced into the room. “Whoever did this sure got in and out without disturbing much.”

  “They didn’t give Larder a chance to put up much of a fight either.” Which told Beau that the plan was to kill Larder all along.

  That brought the body count up to three. Not a lot, by New Orleans standards, but in relation to the hotel robbery it stood out.

  They were dealing with someone ruthless and determined. A very deadly combination.

  After CSU and the coroner arrived a few minutes later, Beau and Marcel went directly to the precinct.

  “I’ll call the embassy and fill them in if you’ll bring the captain up to speed.” Beau plopped down at his desk and looked up the number for the embassy. He made the call, and as the captain had advised, they merely wanted to be kept informed regarding the investigation. He breathed a heavy sigh. At least there wouldn’t be international officials mucking up his case.

  The phone on his desk rang. “Detective Savoie.”

  “This is Allison Williams with WDSU, Channel 6.”

  A reporter. Great. “What can I help you with, Ms. Williams?” Beau struggled to keep his overall disdain for reporters out of his voice. His captain had been on his case for months to play nice with the press, especially since his promotion.

  “I’m following up on a report about a theft and murder at the Darkwater Inn. Would you care to comment?”

  How did she know already? For some time there had been rumors about a leak in either the coroner’s office or in the police department. Seemed likely at this point.

  “We have no comment at this time.” Beau rested his elbows on his desk and noticed the file from Walt. Autopsy reports.

  “So you can only verify there has been a murder?”

  The woman was clever, he’d give her that. “No comment.” He really wanted to tell her to bug off, but was pretty sure his captain would flip.

  “Come on, Detective, we know that you and your partner were dispatched to the hotel yesterday, as well as the coroner and CSU. The story will break on our noon broadcast. Is there anything you’d like the public to know about the theft and murder?”

  It hurt that her information was as accurate as it was. “I’m sorry, Ms. Williams. You understand that the police can’t comment on things such as this.”

  “Because it’s an open investigation?”

  Beau ground his teeth, locking his jaw. “No comment, Ms. Williams.” He hung up the phone, pretty sure Captain Istre would consider it rude, but knew that was the most polite he could be at the moment.

  If the reporter was hounding him, she most likely had already contacted Addy. Their “No comment” remarks wouldn’t be presented in a flattering way, and there was no way the story would be stopped. He could only hope that Ms. Allison Williams didn’t yet
have the information about the princess or her crown being stolen. The international repercussions could be devastating to the Darkwater Inn, and Addy would bear the brunt of any of those.

  Beau scanned the contents of the autopsy reports on the men killed at the hotel. Nothing unusual reported.

  “Captain said to keep him in the loop.” Marcel returned to their work space, carrying a fresh cup of coffee. Well, not that anyone would call the precinct coffee fresh.

  “Same with the embassy.”

  Marcel sat at his desk and took a sip from his steaming mug. He nodded at the file Beau still had open. “Anything useful?”

  Beau passed the folder to his partner. “Nothing more than what Walt already surmised yesterday at the scene. He’s releasing the bodies today. Only new detail is time of death—Walt’s report puts both men’s time of death between five thirty and six yesterday.” He stared at the timeline he’d written. “If they had acted earlier when the initial hack happened, the murders might have been prevented.”

  “You think so?”

  “The initial sign of the hack is reported at five-oh-eight. Time of death is between five thirty and six. That’s an overlap.”

  “But they didn’t realize it wasn’t just a glitch. They didn’t inform Addy until six thirteen, right?” Marcel’s memory was as sharp as ever.

  “Had Lissette and Dimitri brought Addy in from the start, she would’ve made the call and brought the police earlier.”

  Marcel took another sip of coffee. “Hold up, though, partner. It took Addy herself over half an hour to make the call to the police, and that was after she was informed it was a hack.”

  He had him there.

  “And,” Marcel continued, “it might seem fishy that one of her first instincts after calling cyber was to check the vault. Almost like she knew something would be up with that.”

  “Oh, come on.” Addy Fountaine was no more involved or aware of what happened than Beau was. “You can’t even go there, man.”

  “No, I don’t think any of them over at the hotel were involved. I’m just pointing out that a case could be made for any of them. I don’t think we should waste our time going down that trail—unless you have reason to think differently?”

  “I don’t.” Beau was impressed with his partner’s thought pro- cess on this one. Just when he’d thought Marcel was heading in the wrong direction in his own career, he about-faced and really shined.

  “What’s your gut telling you?” It had taken Marcel many months and almost as many cases before he came to realize that while he might have the gift of total memory recall, Beau’s gift was his hunches and instincts. They were usually right on target, and Marcel had come to respect them.

  “That’s just it—I don’t have an indication either way just yet. There’s something off that I’m not seeing yet.” Which was bugging Beau like crazy. He’d tried to work it out on his jog this morning, but nothing had clicked. “I think maybe I need to speak to the princess myself, and Claude. A follow-up interview might give us more information too.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Marcel slurped his mug empty. “We won’t get any forensics reports from yesterday until later since Nolan’s team is still at Larder’s house. Might as well start shaking the bushes.” He stood.

  Beau grinned and stood as well, reaching into his drawer for his gun. His partner said the funniest things sometimes, outdated and cheesy, but he was a good partner. Marcel might be a lot of things, but Beau knew he could always count on him to have his six, and at the end of the day, that’s what mattered most between partners.

  9

  Dimitri

  “You’re doing great, by the way.” Dimitri stared at his half sister sitting behind the desk that had once been his own.

  Lissette glanced over the computer monitor at him. “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. We both know Claude doesn’t think I should be here. And now, with everything, I think Addy might have the same opinion.”

  “Don’t be silly. Adelaide thinks nothing of the sort.” Although she had been reluctant to bring Lissette into the company at such a high level initially, Adelaide’s first responsibility had always been to the Darkwater Inn. It was one of her traits that made her so valuable as the general manager.

  “I often wonder if she’s setting me up to fail.” Lissette sounded dangerously close to a whining child with her jealousy showing.

  “Adelaide isn’t that type of person, Lissette. She wants everything to go smoothly and knows the best way for you to learn the hotel business is like I did, from the ground up and working in every department.”

  “She didn’t.”

  Dimitri smiled. “No, but she went to college and got her degree in hotel services and management before she came to work here. Even so, once she was hired, she spent time in each department, learning protocol, policy, and procedures.”

  “Still, it feels like she gives me the most mundane of tasks.”

  “Like what, exactly?” Dimitri didn’t mind indulging his sister’s complaints most of the time, mainly because he recognized what she’d gone through to get to where she was now. She’d never had an easy life. As the illegitimate child of Claude Pampalon, she was kept hidden away by Claude and her own mother. When her mother died, Lissette had had to fight for her place in the family empire. Dimitri respected that about her, even if she sometimes seemed resentful— albeit misguidedly—toward Adelaide’s position.

  “Like calling the embassy to notify them that we needed the official appraisal of the princess’s tiara to fill out the insurance claim and then filling out this insurance form. Her assistant could easily have done either. Or both. Or Addy herself could have done them. They’re menial tasks, not something the CEO would need to do personally.”

  Dimitri wouldn’t allow Lissette’s jealousy of Adelaide to run rampant. Adelaide, too, had had to overcome the death of a mother and personal hardships to get to where she was today. He would not allow anyone to diminish her strength or accomplishments. Especially not when she held his heart captive. “Oh, quite the opposite, dear sister. Calling an embassy is not something an underling should or could do. It’s an official inquiry. One that, if it isn’t dealt with properly, could incite an international incident. Filing an insurance claim for a theft such as this must surely be done by a Pampalon. Adelaide has provided you the means to show our father that you are indeed acting as a Pampalon and taking care of business. She could have made the call and filed the claim herself, yes, and shown that she is doing her job. But instead, she’s allowing you to show off your knowledge and ability to our father.”

  Lissette’s unique eyes, so much like Claude’s, widened a little. “Oh, I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”

  Dimitri softened his tone. “Why would you? No one has ever stood by and let you take the limelight before. You’re not accustomed to that.” He grinned. “But you should get used to it more. Adelaide is like that. I’ve found that she will often give credit to others, even to her own detriment.” It was part of who she was and why she meant so much to him.

  “Well, I’ve gotten all the basic information filled out. All I need are details about Princess Katerina’s crown.”

  “Where should you go from here?” Walking Lissette through the processes he’d taken for granted all his life made Dimitri appreciate all that Adelaide did.

  His sister tapped her fingernails lightly on the computer keys. “I spoke with the ambassador’s assistant and explained why I needed the official appraisal of her tiara. They took my information and said someone would get back with me. I suppose I could just ask the princess herself, yes?”

  Dimitri tilted his head. “Katerina von Pavlovna is young, only twenty-four. I doubt she knows the legal description and value of her crown. That information will likely come from a representative of the royal family.” He glanced at the copper steampunk-style clock with the oversized gears hanging over the credenza behind her desk. It was one of the many things Lisset
te had changed out since taking over his office. The clock, in particular, suited her personality. “Liechtenstein is seven hours ahead of us. It’s eleven thirty here now, which means it’s after six thirty there. I’m betting that most of the royals’ official offices are closed for the day.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m guessing the embassy will get back in touch with you later today or tomorrow.”

  Lissette nodded. “So, I should wait?”

  “I think that’d be wise. However, it might be prudent to update Father.”

  “Now?”

  Even though she’d gone after Claude last year like a scrapper boxer, once she’d been accepted—in large part to Dimitri siding with her against their father—she’d lost some of her backbone when dealing with Claude. Dimitri understood she wanted to gain their father’s approval, and despite what she claimed, it wasn’t only to step into the CEO position at the hotel. Didn’t every little girl want her daddy’s approval?

  Lissette so wanted her father’s attention and affection. Having been denied it all her life, his sister didn’t even realize how much she wanted it. It was clear to Dimitri how she craved Claude’s approval, and it saddened him to know she’d probably never receive it, not because she didn’t deserve it—she most certainly did—but because Claude Pampalon was incapable of giving affection. Not real affection. Not love.

  Dimitri knew this. Had known it all his life. At one time, he’d longed for it just like Lissette. Luckily, his mother had known how Claude was, and she had compensated with Dimitri. Some would say she overcompensated, but Dimitri had grown up not needing Claude’s love and approval to be happy. Perhaps that was another reason he stood up for and beside Lissette. He knew the struggle she faced and wanted to overcompensate a little on her behalf.

  Lissette continued. “You know, Addy seems pretty adamant that Claude had something in the safe. Maybe I should double-check with Claude about that.”

  Dimitri shook his head. “I think Adelaide is mistaken. Trust me, if Father had something in the safe, he would be telling everyone.”