by A. C. Mason
In the bathroom, she checked her image in the mirror. Oh my God. I look like someone beat me up. She looked away and turned the water on in the shower. Instead of being horrified because my face looks awful, I should be thankful for the airbag. I might not be alive without it.
She was thankful to be alive, but living in fear made life far from ideal. Who wanted her dead? And why?
The hot water helped immensely. Still sore, but a lot less stiff and more alert, she stepped out of the shower and proceeded to her bedroom to get dressed.
Fifteen minutes later she went downstairs. She inhaled the comforting aroma of coffee that emerged from the kitchen.
Jon looked up from the newspaper he was perusing. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”
“I need to get back to my office to take care of a few things. Can you take me over there?”
A frown creased his brow. “What is so important that you have to return to your office right now? You’ve just been involved in an accident. I’m not happy with your refusal of transport to an emergency room.”
“You’re a doctor. Do I look as though I need treatment?”
He shot her an irritated look. “You’re not ready to go back to a stressful situation like Magdalen House.”
“It wasn’t stressful until some creep started killing women who came to us for help.” Tears welled in her eyes. Her throat tightened. “Then he murdered Joanna, and now he’s trying to kill me. What did we ever do to hurt anyone?” The tears streamed down her face.
Tossing the newspaper aside, Jon rose from his seat. He put his arms around her and rocked her gently. “You need to relax and save your strength for Joanna’s funeral Monday.”
This was the first time since before their mother died her brother had shown any affection for her or any emotion except anger towards his family—actions that weren’t normal when their whole loving family was together. Somehow she felt safer now.
Jon pulled back from the embrace. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “There’s nothing in your office that can’t wait at least until next week.” His voice cracked.
Those insurance papers will still be where I left them. She brushed the tears from her cheeks with her hands. “I thought if I kept busy, the work would keep my mind off Joanna’s murder and the person who wants to kill me.”
~ * ~
He hadn’t thought about what the presence of Jamie’s brother would mean to his plans. He also hadn’t counted on how that freakin’ Bourque seemed to be getting closer to Jamie. When he made another attempt on her life, he didn’t want any interruptions. He intended to complete the job.
The good doctor wouldn’t want to be away from his patients for any length of time. As for Bourque, that was another story. He’d have to play it by ear.
For the present, Plan B was to be patient a little while longer. Lay low until the time was right. The element of surprise would be his friend.
Twenty-five
Monday, December 16
Jamie studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Gosh, I look like I’ve been mugged. Makeup might not make her look better.
She had tried to remain calm and focused all morning since she awoke at five-thirty. Concentrate on Joanna’s life and not the way she had died, she told herself. However, that proved to be much harder than she thought.
All she could think about were Joanna’s murder, the insurance papers, and the files on the dead women that she had locked away in her office.
Every time the image of her sister lying dead in the morgue came to mind, a rush of mixed emotions flooded her. Anger at the evil person who had killed Joanna and the other women. Fear for her own life.
Her hand trembled as she attempted to apply eye shadow. She placed the applicator on the counter top and stared at the mirror. After taking several deep breaths to calm herself, she picked up the applicator and completed the task.
Staring at the mirror, she sighed. This was as good as it would get. With her make-up job complete, she slipped into a long-sleeved black sweater dress and black low heel pumps. She chose a simple strand of pearls and matching earrings, a set Joanna had given her last Christmas.
“Are you ready?” Jon called from downstairs. “It’s getting late.”
As ready as I’ll ever be. “I’m coming right now.” She grabbed her purse from atop the bureau on her way to the stairs.
Gray skies remained, but at least it wasn’t raining. She hoped the rain would hold off until after Joanna was buried.
The drive to the funeral home went by quickly. In a trance-like state, Jamie didn’t remember seeing any of the familiar landmarks she drove by each day. It was as if Jon had flown the car from her house to the funeral home instead of driving.
She and Jon were joined on the steps by Michael, who kissed her on the cheek. She introduced him to Jon.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Michael said. “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances and very sorry for your loss.”
Jon eyed Michael like a father would his daughter’s new boyfriend. “Thank you. I appreciate the condolences.”
They walked into the parlor where several relatives from Baton Rouge were waiting for the family’s private viewing.
“I’ll wait outside in the lobby,” Michael said.
“No,” Jamie said. “Please come in here with us. Adrien ought to be here soon.”
He appeared hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your final time with Joanna.”
“Don’t be silly.” She clasped his arm and gently pulled him into the room.
Adrien showed up looking as much in a daze as Jamie felt. She signaled to the funeral director, indicating there were no other family members who would be attending the private viewing.
The director opened the casket, and removed himself from the room, closing the parlor doors behind him.
Jamie took Adrien’s hand and led him toward the casket. Michael lagged behind them. They joined Jon, who had already made his way up the aisle to view Joanna’s body.
The old cliché about the deceased looking like he or she was peacefully asleep seemed true in this case. Looking at her, it would be easy to forget the violence connected to Joanna’s death. Jamie didn’t intend to forget. The person who killed her would be found and punished. If the police couldn’t locate him, she wouldn’t give up, no matter how long the search went on.
~ * ~
Caleb exited his truck, locked it, and walked toward the entrance of the funeral home. Two women and a Hispanic man entered directly ahead of him. He recognized the man as a kitchen worker at Magdalen House.
Standing in the doorway of the parlor for a few seconds, Caleb surveyed the room. He took a seat in the rear of the room where he could watch the people as they arrived to pay their respect to Joanna Chatelaine.
He glanced around the room again, but didn’t see anyone who looked out of place. Many women among the mourners were those who volunteered at Magdalen House. He remembered them from his interviews.
The only males present appeared to be family members, plus Michael Phillips and Adrien Blanchard. Phillips sat quietly next to Jamie. From Caleb’s vantage point, Phillips appeared to keep his gaze away from the casket. Most of the time, his eyes seemed to concentrate on the floor. If he looked up, he moved his head either left or right, never forward.
Blanchard couldn’t stay seated. Periodically, he walked over to the casket and glanced at Joanna as if he wanted to make certain she was really dead.
Interesting observations, Caleb thought. However, he couldn’t press charges based on the strange actions of either man. If he could, he would arrest both of them if for nothing else but being irritating.
Surprisingly, Brother Jon looked less holier-than-thou today. In fact he seemed properly in mourning for his sister and caring toward his one remaining sibling, Jamie.
Caleb’s observations only made him more suspicious of Blanchard and Phillips. Jon Chatelaine was anyone’s guess, leaning toward a negative
in his mind. Caleb stood and slipped out the door into the hallway. Time to check out the guest register.
He waited until the couple currently signing the book left before he stepped over and picked up the pen. After putting his signature on the line, he glanced over that page and casually flipped over to the previous page. Nothing of interest there either.
A gut feeling told him Martin Verbois was connected to these murders, but Verbois’ name wasn’t on the register. Why the hell couldn’t he be located? The man must be a ghost.
Twenty-six
Jamie flopped down on the sofa. She leaned her head against the back and closed her eyes, mentally reviewing the actions of people who attended Joanna’s service. At twelve-thirty in the afternoon she felt as if she’d been on a twenty-four hour flight and had serious jet lag.
Aunts, cousins, and other members of her and Jon’s extended family seemed happy to visit with one another, but not overly saddened by Joanna’s death. Perhaps they thought she should have known better than to get involved with people in the same situation as Joelle. They all returned to their respective homes directly after the service.
Michael kept quiet through most of the visitation, and soon after the burial he excused himself with the pretext of having to go out of town for work again. His actions of late seemed odd.
Maybe he felt uncomfortable with Jon there or worried about the effect Joanna’s murder would have on her. Michael did care for her. He’d proven that in many ways.
Adrien appeared both anxious and sorrowful at the same time. She hadn’t forgotten her theory that he might be guilty of something, or the insurance policy which would result in a hefty payoff to him. Money was always a motive for murder. Adrien did like to gamble at the casinos. He could be in debt. His father might be tired of bailing him out.
Men and women alike have been known to kill their spouses or significant others in order to reap the proceeds of life insurance. Considering Adrien as her sister’s killer left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.
She needed to get to the bottom of this insurance business. How could she get back to Magdalen House without Jon knowing? If she asked him to drive her there, he would end up knowing about her discovery. She wasn’t ready to disclose the information yet. Not having a car was inconvenient to say the least.
She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and punched in the number for her insurance agent. The secretary answered with a cheery voice. Must be nice to be so bright and breezy.
Jamie identified herself. “My car is tied up in the shop for who knows how long since my accident. Does my policy cover a rental car?”
“Sure does,” she said in an equally cheerful voice. “I wondered why you hadn’t requested one before now.”
After asking about claim procedure, Jamie ended the call and searched her phone for the nearest rental car agency. Fifteen minutes later, she had made arrangements for a car. Someone would even come to pick her up. Hopefully Jon wouldn’t return from picking up take-out until after she left. She didn’t feel like eating anyway.
Luck was with her. A representative of the rental car agency arrived in thirty minutes. She headed for Magdalen House as soon as she dropped the rental car employee off at his office.
The sky wore the same shade of gray as earlier today, but the day remained blustery and chilly.
Long periods of this type of weather seemed unusual, even for December. Cold weather in South Louisiana generally lasted about three days with each day gradually warming. After a few balmy days, another cold front would pass through the state. Not this year. Who knew? On Christmas Day the temperature could be eighty degrees or at the other end of the scale there could be a rare snow.
Once inside her office, she unlocked her desk drawer and pulled out the insurance policy. She located the agency name and contact information.
Charles Mixson, the agent of record, was located in Baton Rouge. Jamie punched in the number. She tapped her fingers on the desk top as the phone continued to ring.
After checking her watch, her shoulders slumped. They’re probably closed for lunch. A recorded voice confirmed her suspicions. She left a short message for the agent along with her cell phone number and ended the call.
She picked up the folder on Chanara Brown and leafed through the pages. Nothing jumped out at her. The files on Rita Naquin and Kim Hendricks resulted in the same outcomes. Heaving a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. This had been a waste of time.
Her phone chirped. Caller ID showed Jon’s number. Jamie let the call go to voice mail. He called two more times about ten minutes apart. She let both calls go unanswered.
The insurance agent wouldn’t get back to her until later this afternoon, so she might as well return home. Besides, her neck hurt. No doubt bending over this desk wasn’t helping her heal the soreness resulting from the accident.
Her stomach told her she needed to eat. She glanced at her watch…one p.m. Maybe Bertha had food left over from lunch. She locked the policy and files in her desk and headed through the chapel to the center’s dining hall.
Thirty minutes later, she returned to her office stuffed to the gills. Bertha made certain she had more than enough to eat.
She had hardly sat in her chair when her phone chirped. I might as well answer Jon’s call before he calls the police. But the caller wasn’t her brother. A two-two-five area code—Baton Rouge. She answered.
“This is Charles Mixson from Allied Insurance. I’m returning your call. What can I help you with, Ms. Chatelaine?”
“I want to verify a life insurance policy that was written by you on my sister’s life. She passed away a few days ago and I discovered the papers in her files.”
“What’s your sister’s name? Or if you have the policy number, that would help me locate it.”
Jamie placed the insurance policy in front of her. “I have both. The insured is Joanna Chatelaine.” She read the number written on the top of the page.
The clicking of computer keys could be heard, then a long silence.
Finally he came back on the line. “That’s a valid policy number. I remember writing this policy. Mr. Blanchard and Ms. Chatelaine came into my office with another man who signed as a witness.”
“A man named Martin Verbois?”
“That’s correct. Is there a problem?”
“No, I’m just trying to verify the authenticity of the policy.” How weird is this? “You’re positive the two people were Adrien Blanchard and Joanna Chatelaine?”
“Absolutely,” he said, sounding offended. “Everyone has to have proper identification.”
“What’s the procedure for the beneficiary to receive the proceeds of this policy?”
“The designated beneficiary has to contact this office and provide all the proper documents.”
“Has he contacted you?”
“Yes, he has, but he asked me to wait until he contacted me again before starting the procedure. He told me it was for the best, or maybe he said it would be better that way…something to that effect. What he meant by that is a mystery to me.”
Twenty-seven
It’s for the best. The exact words Adrien said on his phone when she discovered him in Joanna’s office.
Jamie’s phone rang again. Oh boy, who is it now? I might as well give up and go home for sure. She recognized Caleb’s number and answered.
“I just called to check on you,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. At least I feel better than I did when I got up Saturday morning.”
“You must’ve been pretty sore. Those airbags can pack a wallop.”
“My neck still hurts, but I’ve been sitting at my desk reading files. I guess I should be at home resting.”
“What are you doing at your office?” He sounded concerned. “Are you alone?”
“More or less. Margo and a couple of other volunteers came in after the service and are in the back at Magdalen House, but there’s no one else up front with me.”
>
“Why don’t you take a break from whatever it is you’re working on? Let me buy you coffee. I’m not too far away. I can be there in five.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I like cream and sugar in mine.”
“I planned on taking you away from your office. How about we go to The Coffee Mug and you can order it the way you like it?”
“Okay, I do need a break from this place.” And from the terrible possibility that information she learned from the insurance agent might mean Adrien was a murderer.
Caleb would be a wonderful detraction. A tingle danced in the pit of her stomach at the thought. How ridiculous. I’m an adult, not a teenager.
Thoughts of Sean filled her head. What she felt at the moment was pretty close to that same excited anticipation she experienced when she knew her former fiancé would arrive soon to take her out on a date. Caleb was the only man to quicken her heart since Sean was taken from her by a sniper’s bullet.
But Caleb had only asked her out for coffee. Buying her coffee didn’t mean he was interested in her personally. He probably wanted to pick her brain about the murders in reference to Adrien or other people close to her.
What about this insurance policy? Should she tell Caleb about it? Her disclosure would certainly make Adrien look bad. In fact, it could make his seemingly paranoid accusations a reality. A huge payoff like the policy indicated was a prime motive for murder.
A sound in the doorway caught her attention. She barely stopped herself from saying ‘That was quick’.
“Michael, I thought you were still out of town. How did you know I was here?”
He chuckled. “I got all my business taken care of in record time. I went by your house and Jon told me he thought you’d most likely gone to Magdalen House.” He cocked his head slightly to one side. “You were expecting someone else, weren’t you?”
“Actually, I was,” she said “Caleb…Detective Bourque is coming by and he’s taking me to get coffee.”
An expression she couldn’t decipher crossed his face. Anger? Jealousy?
