“Can I walk you home?” Garrett smiled, and the day’s worries washed away.
“Of course.” I smiled back, and we headed down the hall.
It wasn’t a long walk, but I told him everything about Tom Clark, the address, and the key. We stopped at the top of the stairs, on the landing out side my door.
“What do you want to do next?”
I trusted Garrett to help. It didn’t feel right to try and trick him into going, so out it came. “I was hoping you might accompany me on a little trip.”
He didn’t answer right away. I briefly worried he might be upset, but I was going with or without him. Then it occurred to me we had work responsibilities.
“Look. I’d like you to come. But, I should wait until mom is back, so there is coverage on my end.”
“What about school?” It surprised me to hear him ask.
“Class is Tuesday and Thursday. If mom is home, and well enough, we could go next weekend.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and grinned. Just stood there grinning.
“What?”
“You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you?”
“Not exactly. I don’t know where we’re going, where we’ll stay, or what we’ll find, but—”
“Mattie,” Garrett said in a low, soft voice. “We’ll figure it out together.”
He moved in, and left no gap between us, but waited for what seemed like my approval. My expression warmed when I saw the look in his eyes. The seriousness was there, but so was desire.
Garrett waited no longer. He used his hands to pull my body against his and kissed me deeply. It lit a fire so urgent, I grabbed at him so he wouldn’t stop.
We kissed and tousled until I paused just long enough to get my key. I quickly unlocked the door. Garrett hoisted me up around his waist, carried me inside then twirled me around to shut the door and we kissed harder. I pulled at the back of his shirt to get it off. It wouldn’t cooperate. His hand worked its way under my dress and up my back. I clung tighter. Garrett started to unfasten clasps, but hesitated. He kissed me intensely then placed me on the ground. I protested. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me again, slow enough I knew how hard it was to stop.
Garrett took a reluctant step back, and my dress slid back into place. We looked at each other, and for a moment, I thought we’d start up again.
Then the phone rang.
I ran from the kitchen to the living room to answer it. As soon as I said the usual greeting, the line went dead. “Hang-up.” I banged the receiver back down and cursed under my breath.
“Don’t worry.” I came back to Garrett. “Probably just a wrong number.”
“Probably. Say the word, and I’ll stay…to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll be fine.” I didn’t feel like he had to protect me, but it was reassuring to know he would.
“I know, but lock up anyway. I’ll be downstairs a while. Call if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Thinking of him working on Mr. Newton killed the mood initially, but somehow I was tempted to have him stay for reasons other than safety.
He headed for the door. Before he opened it, he turned and spoke. “I don’t want to, but I have to leave.”
“I know,” I said, and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night,” he said, and headed downstairs. He looked back and watched as I closed up behind him. I made sure to turn all the deadbolts so he could hear them click into place.
CHAPTER 18
Research kept me busy most of the night. After completing initial work-ups on Ruggiano, and Tab (aka Brant Thibodeaux), I started files on Chloe, Dr. Avanti, and even Tess.
Ruggiano had been in trouble with the law since he was a teenager, no surprise there. During his rise to the top, he was charged with assaulting a city council member. The charges were later dropped. After that, he spent a couple years out of the spotlight. One report hypothesized he was going legit while others claimed he had health issues. He acted crazy. Maybe he really was certifiable?
A few years ago, photos of him with key public figures started surfacing. The papers snapped pix of Ruggiano with a union leader, a few politicians, and a judge. His photo appeared nearly every week for a couple months, moving closer to the front page each time. It was as if it coincided with his rise in the organization. It looked like a PR stunt to me, but what did I know?
The latest headlines had him all but admitting the mob was in town, and he was in charge. Ruggiano apparently ruffled some feathers with this approach because, as one conspiracy blogger reported, he was at odds with other mob guys in the region.
Fascinated with the history and hierarchy of organizations like the Cosa Nostra, I read about them as a hobby. While the public heard stories of the most notorious gangsters, many lasting and prosperous gangs grew successful because they stayed closed off, and operated under the radar. Ruggiano seemed to be bucking those rules. A loose cannon? Probably. He worried me, but until there was more to tie him to Chloe, or the doctor, I had to move on.
Tab’s family had been prominent in New Orleans social circles for decades. Beneficiaries of the oil boom, his family held wealth and power.
Scandal rocked the Thibodeaux family when Tab’s uncle was jailed for bribing a judge to approve drilling in a protected area.
Tab’s older brother struggled with addiction, and made front-page news every time he went to rehab. Their father Lawrence, a former city council member, was caught in the company of a prostitute, and arrested for assaulting her. No charges were filed. He claimed they were admiring his antique weapon collection when she accidentally ran into the butt of his gun several times, so he was released. Tab, raised by a cruel father, developed a penchant for fighting, and hitting women. Not exactly a wholesome clan.
The family had enough money to ‘fix’ most of their problems. But they sent Tab away to ‘find himself’, or more likely, to avoid authorities for boosting a car in Baton Rouge. He became our problem instead.
Every once in a while Mr. Thibodeaux, with or without his wife, appeared on campus. He’d deliver a huge check and some board members would pat his back and make a big deal of it.
Sophomore year Parents’ Weekend mom and I bumped into him. By this time, mom knew Tab abused Chloe. She made no bones about bringing it up to Mr. Thibodeaux.
“Lawrence, don’t you think you should talk with Tab? Mattie told me he’s been hitting Chloe.”
Mr. Thibodeaux assessed the scene to see if anyone was listening before he responded. “Nora, I appreciate your advice. We’ll look into it.” They exchanged a few words, but it was tense the entire time.
Mr. Thibodeaux stopped next to mom before he left. I overheard him.
“As a politician, I welcome the public’s advice. However, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your mouth shut about my parenting. We’re huge donors to this school and everyone benefits from Tab being here. Let the kids work out their own problems.” With that, Mr. Thibodeaux excused himself and schmoozed his way through the room.
Anger burned in mom’s eyes. “That man is as rotten as his son. I’ll have a talk with Chloe’s mom. If it doesn’t work, promise you’ll stay away from them all.”
I just nodded. Mom was right. I trusted her to let Mrs. Ellis know what was really going on with her daughter’s boyfriend.
Chloe knew about Tab’s past, and begged her mom not to interfere. Chloe was desperate to help Tab. She sympathized because his home life wasn’t as nurturing as hers. I was less forgiving. This continually caused problems between us. Time to move past Tab’s file before I got too angry to work.
There wasn’t much new about Chloe, except she had been a talented cellist, and had recently received a Community Service Award. Grief felt too fresh, so I quickly put aside her file.
Tess was a bit of a wildcard. All the things Garrett had told me about her family were true, but there wasn’t much else to find. She had two older sister
s and a younger brother. Her parents owned a family business, paid taxes, and stayed out of trouble. I was curious to find out what was going on with Tess because she was Garrett’s ex, and showed up with Ruggiano, but the Internet didn’t have a lot on them, and my energy waned.
I’d nodded off when Garrett called and asked me to come downstairs. After saving my files, and plugging in my laptop, I made my way to him.
He met me in the back hall, outside the prep area. I stood in a stupor, listing slightly to one side. Moving with purpose, he handed me a clear plastic baggie.
“I hate to bother you this late. Do you recognize this number?” The only indicators of his fatigue were under-eye circles and some stubble. I focused on what was inside the bag. A white card with reddish smudges. It was a business card for Ted Oxley, Attorney at Law. The front listed his contact information. On the back, in writing I recognized, was the name C. Ellis with Chloe’s cell number written next to it.
I took a deep breath and sat in one of the chairs outside the Prep Room. “It’s Chloe’s.”
“I thought so,” he said grimly.
“What’s the stuff on the card? Is it dried blood, or something?” I had a bad feeling.
“It’s the same powder we’ve seen on a couple other victims.”
“Victims?”
“Long story.”
“Well, I can’t exactly leave now. Why don’t you fill me in?” I sank into a chair and listened.
“Jimbo, the guy you freaked out about your first day here, and nearly killed yourself running away from?”
“Yeah.” Unfortunately, I remembered.
“He had the reddish powder all over him, and so did another woman that came in around that time. Cal asked me to give them a once over.”
“Why?”
“Gut feeling. He thought two people dead within a week of each other, both painted red, was more than a coincidence.”
The way he said ‘painted red’ made me curious. Seeing Jimbo dead wasn’t the only reason I ran. Sure, he looked like a cross between an Aborigine and a powdered donut, which was creepy enough on its own. What I couldn’t shake was the thought he’d wake up at any moment. I knew he was dead. But he terrified me. It didn’t help that we were alone with his dead body in the back room of a funeral home.
Since then, I learned others have had similar fears. The living, unless they’re in the business, or exposed to it regularly, don’t have a chance to get used to death. It can feel antiseptic and cold—far away from the make-up enhanced, tranquilly lit glow shown at viewings and funerals.
Garrett and Ryder grew up around the dead. By now, they’d seen enough to know what to expect, or maybe they’d become desensitized.
“We weren’t supposed to see him like that. There was a mix up with the delivery, and we got him first. The Coroner’s Office picked him up the same day. But not before I was able to do an exam of my own. He had the same needle mark as Chloe.”
“What about the other lady?” The second ‘dusty’ one as Sledge called her.
“Another delivery mix-up. Someone wanted us to see those bodies before the Coroner. I know it.”
Garrett sat beside me—tired, defeated eyes. “When I talked to Cal, he told me to keep it under wraps until we had more proof.”
“Proof? Garrett, what’s going on?”
I flinched when the back door opened. Garrett reached out for me. “It’s okay, I called Cal.”
“Hey man,” Cal nodded to Garrett as he stepped into the hallway with us. “Hey Mattie. You doing okay? You look shocked.”
“Fine. Just a little on edge.”
“Do you want coffee, or anything, Cal?”
“Nah, wired enough because of this case. Did you catch her up yet?”
“We just got started.” Garrett answered.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Cal stepped closer. “You were right. Chloe was murdered.”
“It’s what I’ve been saying all along!” I banged my hands on the chair and stood up.
“Take it easy.” Cal’s hands moved downward, like the motion could suppress my anxiety.
Garrett jumped in with a softer voice. “She had needle marks like the others. But they were covered in powder. She wasn’t. The only other connection is the business card with Chloe’s name and number. It appears to be smudged with the same powder.”
“Our lab tested it,” Cal explained. “They found out the powder is actually a pigment called Red Ochre. This particular one is used to make paint. It’s sold by high-end art supply dealers.”
“What does paint have to do with Chloe?”
“Well, we don’t exactly know yet. Maybe she was involved with the other murders, or knew someone who was.”
“Excuse me? How did we go from Chloe was murdered, to she was involved in multiple murders?” I bit at my lower lip while my fingers twisted the edge of my shirt over and over again.
“Hold up there. I said maybe she was. It may seem unlikely to you, but it is possible. I’m a cop, and doing my job means being thorough. I have to question everything—even people I know.” He eyed me suspiciously, which was more annoying than anything.
“I thought it also meant you’re supposed to also trust your instincts,” I fired back. “Mine tell me she wasn’t part of a double homicide.”
“Point taken.” Cal eyed Garrett. They kept me out of their telepathic conversation. But I knew there was something they weren’t telling me. “You mentioned Chloe called you for help earlier. Did she say why?”
“She wanted to my help on a case.” If they weren’t talking, I wasn’t either.
“Did she say what case?” Cal sounded annoyed.
Sorry Cal, if you want more, you’re going to have to ask for it, I thought.
“I may take that coffee after all,” Cal said. Surprised, Garrett went to get Cal’s drink.
Cal waited until Garrett was through the office, and out of earshot. He leaned over me. Instinctually, I backed up a step. Cal shook his head, and dropped his stern expression.
“I didn’t mean to be harsh, but you were pretty worked up.” Cal looked over at the door, calculated something in his head, and got to it. “I wanted to talk to you alone. Tox screens aren’t back yet, so I can’t say if all the vics were injected with the same stuff, but the needle marks were nearly identical. When Garrett told me about them, I checked with the Coroner’s Office. They weren’t noted on any files I saw. Tess had her hands on all the cases.”
“We questioned her—”
“I know. I’m worried she’s given Garrett some excuse, and he’s too involved to see through her BS.” The realization she had some hold on him now, or ever, left me uneasy.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You need to watch out for him. If Tess is involved in these murders, or covering them up, she may try and drag Garrett into it with her.”
“How do you expect me to keep tabs on him?”
“You don’t need to tail him or anything, Nancy Drew,” Cal laughed. “It’s just that he’s been spending a lot of time with dead bodies lately. So let me know if you notice anything weird—”
I wondered how much time Cal had, because since we’d moved in I’d seen a lot of weird.
“Or if Tess shows up here again.”
We heard Garrett get closer, so we nodded our agreement.
“We’d established the vics shared similar markings, but we didn’t have much else,” Cal spoke as if he hadn’t just told me to keep an eye on Garrett. “Appreciate the cuppa joe.”
Garrett eyed us both. It took a second for me to plaster an interested-in-what-Cal-was-saying look on my face. Hopefully, it worked.
“Brass wanted to keep it under wraps until we knew for sure it was a multiple homicide.”
“What does Brass say now?” I questioned.
“They’re getting on board. The first two vics were found in Ruggiano’s territory, but management is hesitant to tip him off that w
e think he’s involved. Besides, we’re stretched pretty thin, and it’ll take more than what we’ve got for them to assign resources.”
“Any leads?”
“We’re looking into the first two, and now Chloe as a possible third victim.”
Garrett’s eyes were on me as soon as he said it. My face showed everything—sadness, guilt, anger and fear. I’d been pushing to get others to look at Chloe’s case as a homicide. Here we stood with a member of Cincy’s finest telling us her case was unofficially, official. Relieved, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Garrett propped me up, and I was able to manage a quiet, but heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Cal before Garrett turned me toward home.
“You need to sleep,” Garrett said to me, and then told Cal he’d be back. Garrett escorted me upstairs and helped me inside. He left to finish up and head home.
I downed Millie’s potion, crawled into bed and fell asleep. I don’t remember much after, except a blip of a dream where the old native man dusted graves with something. It might have made sense, except it was a flash. When I awoke the next morning, it felt like a Mack truck had run over me, repeatedly. So much for Millie’s Magic Potions.
Jocelyn had convinced me I needed a day away from dead bodies. So, I drove up to her cousin’s farm with the promise of treats, and a paycheck, to help set up a Happy Haunted Harvest event at her cousin’s farm. It was an autumn festival mashed up with a not-so-scary introduction to Halloween for kids and grown-ups, like me, who never got that into heart-stopping stuff.
I enjoyed suspense, but only if I knew I was coming out alive—these days, it was hard to tell. Years ago, I’d had a run-in with a guy in high school who took his night-of-the-living-dead role a little too seriously. After jumping out of a dark corner of a Jaycees haunted house, he moaned and grabbed me. It felt so real, I screamed like a baby and flapped my arms to get him off me. He thought it was funny and kept taunting me. Jos got scared and had to literally yank me out of his clutches. We freaked, ran out of the house, and never went back.
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