by Ken Lange
Andrew nervously straightened, the slightest touch of crimson in his cheeks. “What type of mentor would I be if I didn’t help when I could?” He made a show of waving away any further concern. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as necessary. My home will always be open to those in need.” Andrew’s gaze fell on me as I stepped through the door, and he motioned me over. “Glad you’re awake.” He pointed at Heather’s bags. “Think you could lend a hand?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Kimberly cocked her head, appraising me once more. When I started toward the bags, she cut in front of me. She quickly reached for my right hand, lifted it, and inspected it thoroughly. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open before quickly closing again.
When she spoke, her voice was shocked. “You’re a vigil?” Before I could answer, she held up my hand and turned to Andrew. “He’s a vigil?”
Andrew fought back a grin. “He is.”
Still holding my hand out, she asked, “When?”
Andrew rolled his shoulders. “Monday morning.”
Not letting go of my hand, she threw her head back and let out a deep belly laugh that shook her whole body. “Oh my God.” She looked up at me. “Not a werewolf after all.” Her eyes narrowed, and she fought off another bout of laughter. “Gavin what, exactly?”
I couldn’t help but snigger. The jig was up. “Randall, ma’am.”
She cut her eyes back at Andrew then looked up at me with the biggest smile on her face. “Very clever, young man. Very clever indeed.” She turned her attention back to Andrew. “Robert’s going to lose his shit when he brings his candidates by on Friday.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, and his tone turned serious. “Like I give a shit.”
I turned to Kimberly. “Any chance I could talk you into not telling Robert about me?” I held out my hands in a halting motion. “I’m not asking you to lie, but if you could just omit this for now, it would be very helpful to my investigation.”
Kimberly considered my words. “I don’t see that being a problem since we’re not exactly speaking at the moment, at least not directly…the lawyers are sorting most of it out.” She kept her eyes fixed on mine. “But you said this would help your investigation. Is Robert a suspect in something?”
I flinched. I hadn’t meant it to sound that way. “No, not at all. I just don’t need the headache of him getting in the way.” Remembering Brad’s assumption that I was a werewolf, I growled. “It’s obvious he likes to run his mouth. A lot. And I don’t need the people I’m investigating finding out there’s a new vigil until next week.”
Kimberly quickly did the math. “So, you’ve got a week to track down whatever’s going on with the attack on Heather, and if I had to guess, Martha’s death as well.” Keeping her focus on me, she asked, “Am I right?”
There was no use denying it. “You are, but the connection between the two cases is a tenuous one at best right now…and that’s all I’m willing to say at the moment.” Recalling a factoid from Walter’s file, I went fishing. “But, an oddity came up in the last day about Touro’s board of directors.”
Kimberly suddenly looked disinterested but waved for me to continue. “That’s more of a Robert question, but I can try to answer.”
Of course it was. “Did you know that Walter Percy is on the board?”
Kimberly recoiled, lip curling in disgust. “That’s fucking impossible.” She balled her hands into fists. “Goddamn it, if that’s true, I can’t begin to tell you how wrong that would be.” With a shiver, she got hold of herself once more. “Any chance you got bad information?”
Well, Walter certainly brought out the best in people. I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
She huffed. “Heaven forbid that it’s true.”
“Yeah, from what I’ve learned, he and hospitals shouldn’t mix.”
Kimberly snorted. “No kidding.”
Smiling at Heather, I asked, “Do you need help getting to your room?”
She nodded and tried to push herself to her feet before collapsing back into the chair with her hand over her stomach. She didn’t look at all pleased.
“I’m guessing I’ll need a little more help than I’d thought. The meds are starting to wear off, and I want to be in bed before I take the next round of pills.”
Without really thinking about it, I leaned over and scooped her out of the chair. To my surprise, she was heavier than she looked. Not in a bad way, but in the sense that every inch of her was solid muscle. Taking her down the hall to the room across from my own, I found the door open and headed for the bed. Isidore had brought her luggage and taken the liberty of turning down the blankets and stacking several pillows to allow her to sit up if she wanted.
Standing upright, I offered her a big smile. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Heather looked down at her hands as she spoke in a low tone. “Think you could check in on me later?” Lifting her gaze to mine, her tone turned pleading. “I know you’ve got things to do today, but I’d appreciate a visit from someone other than my mother.”
“Not a problem…but I won’t wake you if you’re asleep.”
Heather huffed and folded her arms. “That’s not really a visit then, is it?”
I pointed at her stomach. “You need rest.”
She rolled her eyes as she tucked the phone under her pillow. “Wake me if necessary.”
Hanging my head in defeat, I let out a sigh. “Fine.”
She gave me a look that said you-damn-well-better. “Good.” She shooed me out the door. “Go do some work.”
With a bow, I rolled my hand in front of me. “Of course, my lady.”
Mock horror shone on her face, her eyes widened, and she fought off a case of the giggles. “Oh God. Don’t do the Ren fair thing, ever.”
I smirked. “If that is your wish, consider it done…my lady.”
I only just managed to get the door closed before there was the soft thud of a pillow hitting wood. In the living room, Andrew, Kimberly, and Isidore were at the desk, talking in low tones. As soon as I arrived, they suddenly stopped, which meant they were talking about me. Considering how I’d left the conversation earlier, I couldn’t blame them.
“Care to share?”
Andrew was the first to pipe up. “Why did you bring up Walter’s connection to Touro?”
I tugged some notes out of my pocket and laid them on the desk. “It was in Martha’s stuff, and at this point, I’m desperately reaching for a clue that isn’t dead or a charcoal briquette. That makes any information I can find about Walter’s connection to anything in town my first priority.” Picking up the paper, I shrugged. “That is, unless you three know where the scumbag would be hiding.”
Isidore, Kimberly, and Andrew all shook their heads.
Kimberly looked shaken. “I can check with the administration and see what they know.”
If she started asking questions and Walter found out, it could spook the man, or worse, put her in danger. “No, not yet. Let’s see what I can dig up first. I wouldn’t want you to catch any blowback from this.”
She fell back in her chair, lost in thought. “Okay, but if you change your mind, just say the word.”
“Sure thing.”
Andrew’s face hardened. “Anything I can do? And before you say no, remember I don’t really give a shit about any type of blowback. I want this settled.”
That made two of us. “The best thing you can do for me is stay put. Knowing you’re safe will mean I don’t have to worry about trying to protect you.”
Andrew sagged in his chair, clearly disappointed. “That’s the dullest assignment you could possibly give me, not to mention no fun at all.”
The comment made me more tired than I already was. “Yep, the joys of people trying to kill you. Can’t hardly stand it.”
Andrew blanched. “I wasn’t trying to make light of the situation. I’m sorry.”
I dismissed it with a casual flick of my wrist. “Don’t worry
about it. I’m just tired. I really should get back to work.”
In my room, I pulled the file off my desk and turned on my computer. Reading the last of the notebook, I found an address for Mary Percy, but no number. I entered the address into Google Maps, and zoomed in to get a look at the place, which turned out to be a rundown farmhouse. I’d have to go out there and see if she was still there, or if anyone knew where she might be, because I was quickly running out of leads.
I grabbed my things on the way out then stopped and knocked gently on Heather’s door before pushing it open. “I wanted to say hi and bye.”
Heather glowered at me while trying not to giggle. “So that’s all I get?”
“Yeah. I’ve got to head to Destrehan to track down some information. I’ll try to stop in when I get back, if it’s not too late.”
She pursed her lips and folded her arms defiantly. “We’re back to that?”
With a quick wink and a nonchalant roll of my shoulders, I stepped back into the hallway. “What can I say? I did stop in, and I did say hi. Now get some rest.”
She cut her eyes at me with a big grin on her face, quickly giving me a very unladylike middle-finger salute. “Smartass. Go and do something productive.”
Waving, I closed the door and nearly bumped into Kimberly, who smiled. “How’s she doing?”
“Considering she was stabbed in the gut a few days ago, she’s doing fantastic.”
Kimberly gave me a wink as she leaned in. “Don’t tell anyone, but magic is a wonderful thing.”
That made me grin. Kimberly must’ve been doing something to speed up Heather’s recovery, but I didn’t have time to find out what. “That’s what I hear.” Stepping around her, I waved. “I’ve got to head out…I’ll catch up with you later.”
She nodded. “Be safe.”
“Thanks.”
Fighting the urge to pick up junk food on the way, I stopped in the kitchen to find Andrew at the stove. He looked back and nodded. “Burger?”
Food, and real food at that. “Sounds good.”
Andrew chuckled. “Heading out?”
“As soon as I finish my lunch.”
Andrew toasted the buns to perfection then placed a healthy-sized medium rare burger with provolone cheese on them. All the condiments were sitting on the counter. “Help yourself.”
I fixed the burger just the way I liked it then sat. “Mind if I go ahead?”
Andrew waved me onward. “I’ve still got to make a few more for Isidore and our guests.”
Perking up before I even took my first bite, I looked at Andrew. “Guests?”
He bobbed his head. “Kimberly has asked to stay so she can tend to Heather.”
That, of course, made perfect sense, and was something I should’ve thought of myself. Blood ran into my cheeks. “Sorry about this. I should’ve given it some thought before agreeing on your behalf.”
Andrew shook his head dismissively. “Hardly a bother. I’m glad to do it.”
When I bit into the burger, my eyes rolled back in my head a little as the sensation of the first real hamburger in nearly ten years washed over me. God, this was awesome.
Andrew hooted, forcing me to open my eyes.
“What?”
Andrew shook his head. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”
I took another big bite, chewing slowly, savoring everything about it. “Isidore made this?”
Andrew nodded as he chuckled. “Ground it himself this morning.”
God bless. I’d had hamburgers before, but nothing like this. “You’ll have to tell him thank you for me.”
Two more bites, and it was gone. I wanted to stay and have a dozen more, but duty called. “Thanks for lunch.”
Andrew winked. “Anytime.” He looked back as I turned to leave. “Where ya headed?”
“Destrehan. Got a lead I need to track down.”
“Call if you need anything,” Andrew said as I walked out the door.
Two minutes later, I was pulling out onto 4th Street, on my way to the interstate.
Chapter 22
The scattered cotton-ball clouds offered little relief from the glaring rays of the early afternoon sun, and I was forced to flip the visor down. This was the first time I’d had the Tucker out on the interstate, and it drove like a dream. The steering was highly responsive and the suspension took the bumps in the road in stride, giving me the feeling of floating down I-310 at seventy miles per hour.
It struck me when I was about ten miles outside of Destrehan how very quiet it was inside the car. There wasn’t any sort of road noise or sounds from the semi-truck that had just passed me. Nothing really bled through. A design feature or another one of my uncle’s enchantments?
Swinging off the interstate, I turned onto River Road, passing some sort of massive apartment complex in the early stages of construction. Perhaps it was an office building, but whatever was going up had caused a good half mile of woodlands to be cut down and turned to a dirt pit. I was sure the people who lived there didn’t appreciate the fact that whatever was coming would surely lower the surrounding property values.
The library was visible from the road, but my destination was a little further down. I’d looked the place up after I saw it on Google Maps. It was the antebellum mansion of a pre-Civil War sugar baron. It had traded hands over the years until Mary Percy bought it in the early ’70s. The old photos taken back in the ’40s showed the place in all its splendor…a massive white two-story construction with eight large columns holding up the second-story balcony and roof, sitting on about thirteen acres of land.
After pulling off River Road onto an old gravel drive, I dodged several potholes before finding a suitable parking space about a hundred yards in. The enormous oak trees dotting the yard were overgrown and unkempt, much like the yard. The rickety white picket fence had rotted completely in several places, while the rest was a crumbling mess, including the rusted wrought iron gate that lay on the ground. Taking a long stride to try to avoid it, I had to duck to escape being throttled by a low-hanging branch, and nearly tripped when my foot snagged on one of the iron bars.
I passed through the tree line and finally got a good look at the rotting corpse that had been someone’s home. Its once-impressive facade was now a putrefied ruin, the second story railing running between the first two columns hung precariously by a single bolt, and the following section was missing entirely. Old plywood boards covered all the windows to keep vagrants, or more likely local kids, from breaking in. From the looks of several gaping holes on the first floor, the effort had failed miserably.
Making my way through the dusty, overgrown yard to the front door, I was sure no one lived there, but one could never tell with these types of places. I might be lucky, and Mary would be sitting there on the chaise with Walter, and I could wrap this whole thing up by dinner.
Yeah, that was never going to happen.
I was about thirty feet from the door when gravel crunched behind me. With a longing look at the door, I considered ducking under the broken railing and giving it a good solid rap, but my gut told me I needed to wait. Stepping back, I peered through the thicket, and a white Dodge Charger, stenciled with St. Charles Sheriff’s Office in blue and gold, parked next to the Tucker.
Well, damn.
A dark-haired young man stepped out of the cruiser. His movements were slow and methodical as he eyed the Tucker. He reached through an open window in his cruiser, and pulled out a pad to note my license plate. After casually tossing it into the car, he studied me through the foliage. Cocking his head to the side with a crooked grin, he waved for me to join him.
I made it back to the drive with only slightly more grace than before. Brushing off a few errant leaves, I had a moment to take in the deputy. He was older than I’d thought—maybe late twenties or early thirties—with dark brown hair and striking green eyes. It was all put together in such a way that if he’d been taller, he could’ve been a male model. Unlike a lot of southern cops
, he appeared to be fit under the dark blue, almost black, uniform. His demeanor, clothes, and movements told me he took pride in his job and himself.
The big gold star on his chest read St. Charles Sheriff in deep black lettering, just underneath a matching nameplate reading J. Matherne. With a quick scan, he assessed my threat level.
I was about a dozen feet away when he lifted a hand. His voice was calm and deep, with a thick bayou accent. “That’s close enough.” He cut his eyes at the rundown plantation then me. “You lost, or are you one of those movie scouts?” The latter thought brought a frown. “I can tell ya now that the owners have never agreed to let the place be used.”
Shaking my head as I leaned against the Tucker, I smiled, trying to put the man at ease. “Neither. I was looking for someone who used to live here.”
Officer Matherne made a funny face, apparently trying not to snicker. “Old Lady Percy?”
“Would that be Mary Percy?”
Officer Matherne shrugged and didn’t look particularly interested in the conversation any longer. “Not sure what her full name was, but probably the same gal.” This was obviously a well-known story in these parts, and he was tired of repeating it. “Why would anybody be looking for her after all these years?”
Thankfully, I’d already prepared myself for such a conversation. One thing my previous career had taught me was to have a plausible lie ready in case you were stopped by the authorities. Today, I was a blogger working on a story about the plantations of Louisiana.
Holding up my tablet for the officer to see, I tried to look excited. “I just had a few questions about the old plantation for my blog.”
That did the trick. His face went blank then he sneered. The only thing worse than paparazzi were bloggers. Ten years ago, I would’ve needed to set up an entire background with a real paper or magazine, but these days all I had to do was say I blogged. The contempt on his face told me all I needed to know. His interest in me had ended the moment I held up the computer.
