“Making this about you?” Izzy tipped her hat, lowering her voice. “Clint had a reputation for overstepping ethically with his clients.”
“You think he got involved with a client… with Lucy May?”
“Lucy May stopped seeing him because he sent her a pic of his junk. How many other women you think he took advantage of? And three bullets later…”
“All his female clients are suspects, not to mention their partners? That’s a pretty wide net.”
“Young and pretty narrows that lane.” Izzy measured her. “What were you and Mark doing here?”
“Exploring.”
Izzy nodded. “You see anybody in the area before you got here? Any vehicles leaving?”
“Please. The body’s cold. Critters have already feasted on him. This wasn’t done today.”
Izzy fanned her face like the smell was just getting to her. “You touch anything? When they take prints, they gonna find yours?”
“We didn’t touch anything but the gate coming in. I held the iron bars on that one cell. Mark will confirm that.”
“I’ll get to him.”
“Seducing his patients.” Angel kept a straight face. “A solid motive.”
“I agree.” Izzy started walking. “You want to explore? Let’s explore. Let’s take a tour of the facility and see if we can’t find a clue around here.”
“Let’s.” Angel stepped to her side. “What’s with the one cell with bars?”
“When your Uncle Earl was sheriff, he had all the bars removed for scrap. He kept those for his personal interrogations.”
“Off-the-record beatings. You ever wonder how many innocent people you’ve hurt?”
“Innocent out here? Everything I say is hypothetical, by the way.” Izzy swung her flashlight at the rows of open cells. Angel understood they wouldn’t find anything, but Izzy wanted alone time. She said, “Your mom, Lorna, and me used to come here as kids. This was our own private sanctuary. We’d pretend to be criminals and cops.” She pointed at the second-story balcony. “Lorna fell from right there and broke her ankle.”
“You three were tight.”
“Up until we were married. There’s only three years between us.”
“I know. Paulette was fertile.”
“We joked she killed Dad ‘cause she was done spitting out babies every year. What was in the envelope?”
Her aunt asked a question she already knew. Was this an honesty test? “The combination to the lock on the murder room was in the envelope. And some riddle about people dying for other people’s sins.”
“Really? That’s odd when a set of bolt cutters was all you’d need.”
“I agree.”
“Lorna had really gotten odd in the final years. Maybe she had a touch of Bobby’s thing.”
“Maybe.” They continued toward a common area. Angel said, “This place reminds me of the missing bus. It just made so much sense that they would’ve been held here.”
“If they weren’t killed outright.” Izzy stopped at one of the prison offices. The plexiglass was too dirty to see through. “You think Blondeauxs hijacked that bus. That once the prison was searched and cleared, they brought those boys here?”
“Something that major doesn’t happen without Blondeaux knowledge.”
“I was eighteen at the time. If our family did it, your grandmother and her brothers didn’t talk about it.” Her hands went on her hips. “Have you given any thought to selling the estate to me?”
“I’m still going through her stuff.”
“Just remember, when the patronne starts to put pressure on you to give it to Lucy May, it’s actually going to be for Trevor.”
“Pressure? Like a dead therapist and vandalism?”
Izzy put her arm around Angel’s shoulders. “Sounds about right.”
Chapter 28
The curtains in Angel’s inherited house were drawn for privacy. The day had been so long, yet passed so quickly. Darkness merged with the humidity, pressing against the walls. Angel and Mark agreed that Clint’s corpse, although not meaningful to Angel, was a warning to give the land back. They could only speculate who was responsible.
Angel had stayed at the prison long enough for Joe-Joe to bring the coroner’s vehicle. He wanted to talk and tried to make eye contact, but she ignored him. Joe-Joe would be all business in the presence of Izzy.
Brockton’s coroner would do the autopsy. With forensics coming from outside the parish, it was an area where the Blondeauxs didn’t have total control. The FBI would be able to access the medical examiner’s findings later.
Whether or not Mark was going back to Brockton hadn’t been discussed. For the time being, they left his BMW in the storage garage behind the house. A couple of times, she wondered about dating him in the real world. That would mean she’d have to quit the Bureau or he’d have to move his practice to New Orleans. But uprooting yourself for someone that soon wasn’t a great idea. It was nice to dream about the white picket fence.
The remnants of a pizza grew cold on the coffee table along with an open bottle of Cabernet. They sat side by side, listening to an Internet radio station off her laptop.
“Five dollars says Clint’s case will never be solved.” Mark chewed his slice of pizza.
“Ten dollars says it’s pinned on the wrong person.”
“It gets the blood pumping.” A few seconds of The Beatles Twist and Shout played before he spoke again. “You searched the room?”
“I looked inside.”
“But you didn’t search it.”
She attempted to divert his interest. “I told you it was cleared out, cleaned, and disinfected.”
“Then why is there a padlock?”
“Lorna’s superstitions? Honestly, I don’t mind the lock being there.”
“But what if she put something back into the room and then locked it up?”
“You think I missed something in an empty room?”
“Let me satisfy my curiosity.” His finger traced her arm. “Scared?”
“I’m not scared. You saw my gun.”
“You’re scared. I get it.”
“That’s about the same thing as a double-dare.”
“Am I going to have to make chicken noises?”
“So immature.” She slapped his thigh. “Let’s go.”
Angel clenched her hands as she climbed the stairs. The acidic remnants of wine coated her mouth. Each thigh resisted as they pushed to the top. Ceramic Jesus was ever vigilant over the threshold. The hall light created long shadows. She flipped the lock upwards and let it fall.
“Open it.” He leaned sideways against the door jamb as if he was saying goodbye to a first date.
She mimicked his stance, leaning also to face him. “You act like I need you here.”
“Do you at least want me here?”
She gave a long blink and inched her shoulder closer, her nose drew to his. She spoke softly. “I do want you here. But I never show the room until the seventh date.”
“Prude. What’s allowed on the sixth date?”
“Finding a dead body.”
“Dark.”
She could smell the wine on his breath. “It’s late, and you’ve been drinking, Mr. Senn.”
He slid another inch in her direction, seemingly forgetting about the room. “It’s not safe for me to drive, Miss Blondeaux.”
“I would be a horrible, horrible host to let you.”
Angel made the final advance, placing her lips on his. Her fingers drove up his neck and into his hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, picking her up with a spin. He said, “You’re so… my type.”
“That scares me.”
“Don’t be scared. You have a gun.” He let her slide down until her feet touched the floor.
“Not up here.” She searched his face. “Downstairs… I double-dare you.”
He hooked her belt loop with a finger and pulled her forward. “Downstairs it is.”
Once on the main flo
or, he took her hand as if dancing, spinning her into the sofa. He gently followed her down. Their lips continued to meet as if afraid the other might disappear.
Chapter 29
Angel’s bladder and cottonmouth awakened her. Mark didn’t move an inch while they lay on the blankets spread on the throw rug in the living room. The memory of sex on the couch warmed her all over again. It had been over a year since ending her last doomed relationship, and she needed the release.
She had yet to sleep in Lucy May’s old room, and that was fine. Despite the prospect of a more relaxing time in a bed, they found the front room to be less claustrophobic.
Mark’s tattooed shoulder hinted of coconut. She took in his sleek profile, lips slightly parted in slumber. He was attractive in a bookworm sort of way, with the more rugged manly qualities having developed because of where he was raised. The country toughness had been a requirement. A mole just behind his ear was visible while his hair swept a different direction. He had more muscles than a stereotypical lawyer should.
This wasn’t a one-night stand, but then, that would have to be the definition. As much as they joked, a real date hadn’t been explored yet. However, they had gotten to know each other. Her hand moved under the covers to wake him in a friendly way just as Agent Ruby’s ring tone filled the room. She would never call unless…
The floor creaked, and she heard a snapping noise. Her head twisted at the sudden voice of a third person in the room.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Joe-Joe!” She sprung up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her phone stopped ringing.
Mark mumbled something and turned his face into the pillow.
“Get out of here,” Angel commanded.
“Wake up, bastard.” Joe-Joe kicked Mark’s foot.
“What?” Mark twisted in confusion; his arms didn’t know where to go.
Joe-Joe waved his gun. “I can smell the fuck-stink.”
“Put that away.” Angel reached for her shirt, quickly slipping it on. She silently berated herself for not syncing the video surveillance to her phone for alerts. “How did you get in here?”
“I got a key,” he said defiantly. “I used to bring Miss Lorna groceries.”
“So why didn’t you knock?”
“With that dead therapist at the prison, I was worried.” He kept the weapon aimed. “I looked in the window and saw your bare feet on the floor. I thought something happened to you.”
“You can see I’m fine. Put it down.”
“What about the Rock’s windows and the graffiti? You’re alone here.”
“Just calm down.” Mark dug into the corners of his eyes.
Angel stood with caution, moving near a drawer in the entertainment center where she placed her firearm. “Stop pointing that thing.”
Mark raised his hands but slowly reached for his shirt.
“This guy will never love you.”
Angel didn’t make any sudden movements. “You can’t hold me responsible for your issues.” She opened the drawer. “I didn’t flaunt this in front of you. You weren’t invited inside.”
“Why?” he shouted. “Why am I never invited inside?” He pushed the large gun toward Mark.
“Dude, you realize she’s a federal agent?”
Angel spoke firmly, “Shut up, Mark.”
Joe-Joe poked the barrel toward him. “Listen to her. You won’t be the first guy I killed.”
With his attention diverted, she pulled out her Glock and pointed it at Joe-Joe’s leg. “Put the gun down. Mark will leave. I’ll make some coffee, and we’ll talk.”
“Talk about how you fucked him?”
“Joe-Joe, you understand I’m not a virgin. That I date.”
Mark sat upright. “This means nothing, man.”
“Shut up!” It was as if Joe-Joe shouted above the gunshot. The gun kicked back, and Angel fired at the sound of the blast, causing Joe-Joe to fall on the blankets.
As Joe-Joe writhed in agony, she kicked the revolver to the side. Mark wobbled on his butt, balancing with his tatted arm. His other biceps had streams of blood rolling to the blankets on the floor. Shock filled his eyes.
“Joe-Joe. You shot him.” Angel put her hands on Mark’s neck. His face grimaced. She located her bra on the floor and used it as a tourniquet just above Mark’s wound. She turned his arm into the light. “I think it’s a graze.”
“Good. Ow, fuck.” He panted. “I’ll never see a bra the same way again.”
“Blondo, I’m bleeding.” Joe-Joe fell onto his back. “Don’t call Izzy…. please don’t.”
Mark looked up at her and spoke softly. “Sweetie… maybe call an ambulance.”
“Right. Hang on.” She dialed 9-1-1, forcing every muscle in her body not to lock up.
Chapter 30
Angel sat hunched over on the Rock’s tailgate while her parents and Delilah offered support. The fire station’s ambulance had just left with Joe-Joe, while a deputy’s squad car escorted Mark, both going to the Brockton Hospital. Lemon Twig had doctor’s offices, only no medical facility. Neither Joe-Joe nor Mark had a critical wound, but they needed to take the precaution. The local cousins that caught wind of the happenings had gathered on the street, being kept at bay by deputies.
Sheriff Izzy finally exited the house. She carried her hat against her thigh. Once entirely outside, she put her sunglasses on. “I’m not speaking as the sheriff, but as your aunt. What the shit, Angel? One dead body on the property isn’t enough?”
“Joe-Joe in trouble?” her mother asked.
Izzy ignored her. She yelled at the deputies along the road. “Who let them through?”
“They’re family,” one yelled in their defense.
“I said no one, damn it!”
Angel’s father slouched with his thumbs in his pockets. “We are her family. What’s the big deal, Izzy?”
“She’s a suspect in a criminal investigation, Rob. I don’t need her story contaminated by outside influences. Don’t you agree, Agent Blondeaux?”
“She’s right. I would have done the same. There are rules to follow.”
“You folks mind if I speak with your daughter now? Alone?” She put on the hat, pulling it down like it was a size too small.
“Of course, Sheriff Blondeaux.” Mable backed away.
Rob and Delilah also moved to the middle of the giant front yard covered in leaves and magnolia seed hosts, which looked much like little hand grenades.
Izzy stood before Angel, legs at shoulder-width apart, arms disappearing behind her back. “We pulled your surveillance. It just shows the intruder using a key to go in.”
“Intruder?”
Izzy continued, “Once the intruder was inside, we lost him. What happened in there?”
Angel spoke factually. “Joe-Joe…”
“Joseph Blondeaux-Mauck.” She pulled out a small notepad and a pen.
“The intruder. Yes. C’mon, Izzy. You know him. You know how he feels about me.”
“Don’t tell me my job, Angel.”
“I’m saying this as your niece. Don’t be an asshole.”
“My first impression is you shot a jealous boyfriend over catching you with another man. You need to convince me Joe-Joe wasn’t an inconvenience you attempted to take care of.”
Angel almost laughed but was hit with a wave of guilt. A massive piece of her childhood just became tainted… died even. Any happy memories with Joe-Joe, and there were many, were ruined. Izzy being difficult was inconsequential. “Is it fair to say that you, as sheriff, would know if Joe-Joe and I had a romantic relationship?”
“It’s fair, but not accurate. I don’t know if you two hook up every time you come to town, which only seems to be when someone dies.”
“We’re just friends if you can call it that. I tried to let him down easy. I tried to be tough. I tried everything.”
“So, no sex?”
“Never. But he’s holding on to some experimenting we did in our early teens.”
“And Mark Senn? You two…?”
“Obviously, yes.”
Izzy sat partially on the tailgate. “Is this your first time sleeping together?”
“None of your damn business, Izzy.”
“I need the full scope of what happened here. Funny how evasive you are on the other side of the questioning.”
“I know how this looks. I had sex right after finding a dead body. A gruesome murder took place in this house, my aunt allegedly committed suicide, and I had sex in it.” She slapped her thighs in frustration.
Izzy’s voice turned soothing. “My job isn’t to judge. But it helps if I can understand why you’re here when I’m willing to buy it from you. The FBI wants you here to get dirt on us, right?”
She looked at her aunt, earnestly. “The FBI is mounting a case against me.”
“What?”
“I fabricated some evidence to get an abusive cop off the force. I’m suspended with pay. Just leave it at that. I might not have a place to live in three months. Coming back is an option I don’t want to think about.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“One of your politician friends must have a contact in the FBI, right? Check.”
Izzy seemed to accept that. “No, you’d never go against family. That’s your one redeeming quality. Still doesn’t answer why you’re here.”
“Doesn’t it? I have nothing else going on in my life – until they put me in front of the review board. I got the time to go through Aunt Lorna’s stuff.”
“Suit yourself.”
“If Lorna didn’t want the property in Trevor’s hands, then why not leave it to you or my mom?”
“After Doug’s murder, something changed in her relationship with Mable and me. I think Lorna might’ve blamed the family more than her own son. She lost the drive to be patronne. Leaving the house to you was the perfect monkey wrench.”
Angel shrugged. “Is that what I am?”
“Seems to me you can do a lot of exciting things with a nice bank account. Private security. Move back, and I could make you a deputy.”
Blood Parish Page 10
