Midnight on the Mississippi

by Mary Ellis

  Hunter didn’t like admitting to his brother how complacent he’d been with the business. He’d prided himself on the firm’s outstanding reputation since he’d left Ethan’s internship. Unfortunately, that reputation seemed to have been built on a house of cards. But he wouldn’t let pride stand in his way of salvaging whatever goodwill remained with his clients.

  “If you’re talking fraud and corruption, I’m sure James covered his tracks. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Hunter. It’s easy to be hoodwinked in this business, and doubly so when that person is supposed to be your friend.”

  Hunter appreciated his brother’s rationalizations, but he wouldn’t have any of it. “I suspected something was fishy, Ethan. James was spending money like water, but I didn’t want to confront him without concrete proof. I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship over minor blips in the cash flow. Now he’s dead. If I had spoken to him about my concerns, maybe he wouldn’t be.”

  Ethan opened his mouth to argue, but a knock on the door commanded their attention.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. Hope I’m not interrupting something important.” Detective Russell Saville stood in the doorway. His sport coat was open, his shirt wrinkled, his hair uncombed. All in all, the detective looked as if he just rolled out of bed.

  “Come in, Detective,” said Hunter. “I was wondering when you’d pay another call. Are you here to slap on the cuffs since no other suspect has thrown themselves in your path?”

  “They’re goin’ to like you in jail, Galen. You’re a barrel of laughs besides being a pretty boy.” Saville sauntered into the room, his gaze fixing on Ethan with interest.

  Ethan looked from one adversary to the other and rose to his feet. “Ethan Galen.” He extended his hand. “I assume you’re the lead detective working on Nowak’s death. Do you have new information on the case?”

  “Whew, I’m just meeting one big man after another on this job. Lives of the rich and famous,” drawled Saville. He shook Ethan’s hand briefly and then slapped a piece of paper onto the desktop. “But, no. I’m here with an amended search warrant. This one includes your office computer, Galen. If you would be kind enough to step back—”

  “I have a business to run, Saville,” Hunter snapped. “And my clients’ privacy needs to be respected.”

  “Not my problem. You should have considered that before you blew your partner away.”

  “I didn’t blow anybody away. Like I told you, I had no reason to.”

  “That’s not what your financial records are saying, bro. You had the oldest reason in the book—money. I’m no accountant, but your little company looks insolvent to me. You owe everybody in town, living or dead, money. The next check you write will probably bounce.”

  Hunter jumped to his feet, but Ethan managed to get in front of him. He held up his hand like a school crossing guard. “The Galen family has extensive holdings and interests with plenty of liquid capital, Detective. More than enough to cover any cash flow problems Galen-Nowak Investments might be experiencing. Our family doesn’t usually shoot their way out of difficulties.”

  Hunter hated it when his brother did that—jumped in to fight his battles for him. He was no longer his protégé learning the ropes at Ethan’s staid firm. He’d successfully managed corporate portfolios for years, making his clients tons of money despite the mess James had gotten them into.

  “Ah, the elder Galen to the rescue,” Saville said with a sneer. “Weren’t you the big sponsor of last year’s Mardi Gras? Got to be the Grand Marshall or Grand Poo-Bah or whatever. I saw you sitting on your float in the Rex Parade with your little boy tossing candy to the unwashed masses. Man, it’s good to be you, no? King of the world? Or, at least, King of the Quarter.”

  Other than a slight flare of his nostrils and a narrowing of his focus, Ethan gave little indication he was even listening to Saville. But Hunter heard him loud and clear and his blood began to boil. Picking up the search warrant, he scanned it quickly. “Take what you came for and get out.”

  Saville walked to the window and peered down on the river and Algiers in the distance. “Your brother got me thinking about another theory of mine, the second oldest motive in the world—a woman. That is one fine-looking lady you have there, Hunter. Umm, umm.” He smacked his lips. “Maybe you weren’t providing everything she needed and she got herself a little love triangle going with your partner.” Saville dragged out the word “love” like a country music singer. “And you found out about it.”

  “You dirty…” Hunter launched himself at Saville. Cop or no, he had taken all he planned to. Hunter grabbed Saville’s jacket with his left hand and drew back his right.

  Fortunately, Ethan had anticipated the response and caught hold of Hunter’s arm. The punch went wild, missing its mark. Ethan wedged his body between the two men. “Don’t, Hunter. You’re smarter than this. He’s baiting you so he can arrest you for assaulting an officer.”

  “What’s the matter? Did I hit a soft spot, pretty boy?” Saville tugged down his sport coat, looking unhappy with Ethan’s interference.

  As though on cue, two uniformed officers appeared in the doorway. They had apparently been waiting in the outer office, hoping to witness Hunter’s loss of control.

  “Stay out of it, Ethan. This isn’t your problem.”

  Ethan threw his body weight against his brother’s chest, pushing him back from the detective. “You in jail becomes my problem. Settle down and stop making things worse. You and I are going to get some air.” To Saville, he said, “Take what’s listed on the warrant and get out.”

  Only the realization that Ethan was right kept Hunter from going after Saville again. It was obvious that this was exactly what the detective wanted. The brothers headed for the back stairwell away from the other brokers and cops. “Thanks,” Hunter said as soon as he cooled off.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Ethan snapped as soon as the fire door closed. “Do you want to give him reason to throw you back in jail? This isn’t like you, Hunter. You have always chosen the noncombatant way out.”

  “And look where that’s gotten me. Ripped off by my partner, about to lose my company, and probably formally charged for something I didn’t do.” Hunter slapped his palm against the plastered concrete wall.

  “Giving in to your temper won’t help the situation. You were on the right track combing through the books. Your answer lies there, not punching out a New Orleans cop. Because you’re innocent, law enforcement is supposed to be on your side.”

  “Oh, really? Someone ought to tell Saville that. And if he were tossing out innuendos about Cora instead of Ashley, you wouldn’t be quite so calm and collected right now.”

  “C’est vrai, but you’re not me.”

  “What does that mean? I’m not tough like you, not so powerful?”

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. “I meant you’re usually smarter about letting anger get the better of you. My temper hasn’t always served me in the past. It’s gotten in my way more times than I can count. You’ve always been the mild-mannered member of the family. What’s changed?”

  “Are you joking, Ethan? Everything has changed. My life is in turmoil and you expect me to be diplomatic?”

  “I expect you to cooperate with the investigation and not antagonize the lead detective. Stop acting like you have something to hide when you don’t.”

  Hunter sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe I do. Not about the murder, but I don’t want the world to know the extent of James’s duplicity. I can’t afford to have every Galen-Nowak client march in and cash out their account. If Saville leaks information about the company’s financial status to the press, I’m ruined.”

  “And you think assaulting him will secure his cooperation in that regard?”

  Ethan’s words were like gasoline on flame. He pivoted toward his brother, no longer able to suppress his frustration. “There is just no pleasing you, no way of living up to your expectations!”

  “What are you talking about?” Et
han moved back from Hunter’s wrath.

  “It’s always been like this between us.”

  “Hunter, you need to be more specific.” Ethan seemed genuinely confused.

  “A long time ago a bunch of thugs took away the basketball my friends were playing with. I negotiated with them for its return. If they let us finish our game, they could use the ball for the rest of the evening and the next day. They would have it most of the weekend.”

  Ethan furrowed his brow. “I don’t recall the incident. How in the world is this relevant?”

  “You were furious when I told you about my solution. You said sometimes a man must fight so the world doesn’t think him a coward.” Repeating the words still stung after all these years.

  “I said that?”

  “You did. You said I shouldn’t have bargained with bullies. I should have fought for what was right.” Hunter relaxed the fingers that had unwittingly curled into fists.

  Ethan slicked his hair back from his face. “I vaguely remember that now. It was a stupid thing said by an immature adolescent, not a man. We were kids then. It has no bearing on anything happening now—”

  “I’ve never forgotten your disappointment in me,” interrupted Hunter, surprised by the admission.

  Ethan placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder. “You should have forgotten it. I have nothing but respect for you and always have. Your ability to negotiate isn’t a character weakness. It’s a trait I admire. I was wrong back then, and I’m sorry I never told you that before. But please go home now and come back to your office tomorrow. You’re innocent of this crime, Hunter. Saville can’t hurt you unless you let him.”

  After a final squeeze to his brother’s shoulder, Ethan crossed the parking lot, climbed into his car, and drove away. Hunter remained riveted to his spot for several more minutes, fighting to regain his composure.

  He’d heard kind words and noble sentiments, but nothing had changed. Hunter was tired of negotiating, of peacemaking. Sometimes a man must fight so the world doesn’t think him a coward. He was no longer a scrawny kid on the playground who had lost his basketball to thugs.

  He was no coward. Someone had killed his partner. This was one fight he wouldn’t walk away from.

  TWELVE

  Nicki stared at the wall a full five minutes before punching her mother’s number in her phone. As much as she wanted to, as much as she needed to, calling Rose Price was never a simple chore on her to-do list. But with Christine at work and no place she needed to be, she sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom? It’s me, Nicki.”

  “Yes, dear, I recognize your voice. It hasn’t been that long.”

  Hearing her mother’s animated chuckle, Nicki began to relax.

  “Are you all settled in at Christine’s? Isn’t it crowded in a trailer with two little kids running around?”

  Her relaxation vanished. “Her kids are staying with Preston’s mother due to a minor mishap with Children’s Services, remember? I think I told you that Preston complained that the kids weren’t being properly cared for. Christine flunked their impromptu inspection.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a minor mishap to me or she would have them back by now. What kind of mother loses her children to a man like Preston Hall?”

  “When Children’s Services arrived she didn’t have five days of food in her fridge and pantry. She hadn’t been to the grocery store that week, but she would never let her kids go hungry. Now she must wait until after three unannounced visits.”

  “Did Christine get fired from her job or allow some troublemaker to move in with her?”

  With an image of Travis flickering through her mind, Nicki hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but also didn’t want to give her mother ammo to use against her friend. “No, her new boyfriend doesn’t live with her, and she works full-time at the coffee plant.” Technically, both statements were true.

  “Well, if you ask me—”

  Knowing exactly where this road led, Nicki didn’t let her finish. “Mom, I called to find out how you were, not to gossip about Christine. How do you feel with the new prescriptions?”

  “Well, one pill makes me ravenous all day while the other causes nausea. So I can’t eat more than half a sandwich or I’m in danger of not keeping it down. Not exactly my preference for losing weight.”

  “If that continues more than a week, call your doctor. And keep track of what does stay down, because he’ll probably ask. How are you sleeping?” Nicki shifted restlessly on the sofa.

  “I would sleep better if you weren’t living in New Orleans.” Rose emitted a huffy snort. “Every night the news reports another drive-by shooting or drug raid in the projects.”

  “On a Natchez television station? I can’t believe they have nothing better to cover.”

  “Not on local TV. I subscribe to an electronic version of the Times Picayune so I can keep up with what’s happening around you.”

  Nicki rolled her eyes at the idea of her mother stalking her via the Internet. “Every big city has crime. Wherever people are economically deprived, the crime rate goes up.”

  “I’m poor, but you don’t see me manufacturing meth in my cellar.”

  “You don’t have a cellar. You live in an apartment.” Nicki took a long swig of diet cola.

  “Don’t get smart, missy. You know what I mean. How’s your cousin? Nate needs to call Charlotte more. She worries about him the same way I worry about you.”

  “Funny you should ask. I was just talking with Nate yesterday after work. We were recalling old times when we were kids.”

  “Nicki, you’re only twenty-five, not sixty.”

  “True, but when Nate started talking about Dad, it got me thinking.”

  All laughter, all affectionate banter ceased. Nicki checked the screen of her phone to see if the call had been dropped. Then her mother spoke.

  “With plenty to learn on your new job, why on earth are you wasting time talking about your father?”

  “Because I’m an investigator now, Mom. It’s normal to be curious about what happened to him.” Nicki struggled to remain calm.

  “I don’t know what else to tell you. Kermit went to the swamp with his pals and never came back. They were supposed to be fishing and turtle hunting—why, I don’t know. Your father didn’t even like turtle soup. Your uncles said he took the boat out after their card game broke up and must have fallen overboard. When people indulge in alcohol, bad things happen. I hope you haven’t acquired the habit with all those fancy happy hours and boutique breweries on every corner.” Rose never missed an opportunity to express her teetotaler viewpoint. Not that Nicki could blame her after years of living with an alcoholic husband.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. Soda and sweet tea remain my beverages of choice. But there must be more you’re not telling me, and after all these years I deserve the truth.”

  “What on earth do you think I’m hiding?”

  “Exactly who was there that night? If you’re not hiding anything, then name names.” Nicki mimicked her mother’s brusque tone.

  “For heaven’s sake, Nicki. It was Kermit, your Uncle Charles and my two brothers, Eugene and Andre.”

  “No one else? Just the four of them?”

  Rose breathed heavily into the mouthpiece. “I’ll tell you who else, young lady, since you think I’m keeping something important from you. Your dad invited three men he’d met in a bar in Clay Creek to join them. They claimed to be brothers and were always flashing wads of money. I told him to steer clear of them since you can bet Saturday’s supper they didn’t come by that pile of cash honestly, but do you think your father listened to me?”

  “I will assume that he didn’t,” said Nicki softly.

  “No. Instead he said, ‘Don’t worry, Rosie. You’ll have all the money you need for bills when I get home. A good chunk of the cash they flash around will be in my pocket come Sunday.’ ”

  “Dad planned to rob those d
angerous men?” Her father as a thief didn’t fit the memory Nicki had of him building her a treehouse.

  “No, not that. He planned to cheat them at cards. Kermit thought he was so clever. Nobody would ever figure out those full houses and flushes weren’t just dumb luck. He always wore that silly alligator belt when he played poker. He said his twin cowgirls never let him down when he needed to make money.”

  “I don’t remember any fancy belt.”

  “Because it’s probably on the bottom of Henderson Lake in Louisiana. He bought it years earlier from some old Cajun who carved the buckle from a gator skull. It was atrocious if you ask me. Two gals with six-shooters standing back-to-back, wearing ten-gallon hats and spurs.”

  Nicki rubbed the bridge of her nose as a dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. “Getting back to the men Dad planned to cheat, do you think one of them figured it out and killed him?”

  “No, Nicolette. Uncle Eugene said that when they took their argument outside, Kermit gave them their money back, everything he had. Then those men came inside and your dad took off in a huff, furious his get-rich-quick scheme didn’t work. The sheriff came to the cabin and looked around. Nothing inside or outside indicated it was anything but an accident on the waterway.”

  Silence spun out for several moments before Rose added, “Your Uncle Charles and my brothers had no reason to lie. They were fond of Kermit, just like everyone else—everyone who wasn’t married to him. It was an accident, honey. Let it go. This isn’t a mystery for you to solve, Nancy Drew. Concentrate on your new job. It should be enough of a challenge.”

  Three brothers from Clay Creek were at the cabin too? “Thanks for finally telling me the whole truth, Mom,” she said. “I need to get some sleep, but I’ll call you again soon.” With her brain already five miles down the road, Nicki ended the call with a press of a button, even though she wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours.

  THIRTEEN

  The ringing of Nicki’s phone interrupted her morning exercises. At least she could accomplish part of her normal routine without putting her fist through a window or whapping her head on the refrigerator. Even sit-ups were challenging because her feet had to slide under the couch and her torso wouldn’t fit on the small square of indoor-outdoor carpeting. Wiping sweat from her eyes she said, “Hello?”