Gators and Garters

by Jana DeLeon

  I felt my chest tighten. Walter was right—I had been a darned fine agent, stellar if I was being honest. And I knew that my service was important to the agency and the country. Director Morrow and my partner Harrison cared about me beyond just the job, but it wasn’t the same as what I had now. Not even close. This was home. It seemed as if my entire life had been structured to send me here.

  “I see Carter pulling in,” Walter said. “You need any ammo?”

  “Not this time,” I said. “I can probably talk my way out of it.”

  He laughed again. “I just bet you can.”

  I headed to the sheriff’s department and walked inside. The newish daytime dispatcher was manning the front desk and gave me an apprehensive look when I walked in. He’d been on the receiving end of a ploy or two from Ida Belle, Gertie, and me and now automatically assumed something was suspect when one of us walked in the door. Since he wasn’t exactly wrong, I figured I couldn’t fault him for his feelings.

  “Carter asked me to meet him here,” I said. “Can you let him know I’m here?”

  His shoulders slumped in relief at such a normal request and he called Carter. “He said to go on back to his office.”

  “Thanks.”

  Carter’s office door was open and as I stepped in the doorway he looked up and motioned me inside.

  “Close the door,” he said.

  “You going to arrest me?” I asked as I complied. “Because if so, I’m going to regret turning down Walter’s offer of ammo.”

  “I just don’t want anyone else to overhear and then wonder why I didn’t arrest you. I’ll deal with my traitorous uncle later.”

  “Fair enough. Did the naked guy want to press charges?”

  “I’m sure he would if he knew who interrupted his…whatever the heck that was. But when I pointed out that everything—everything—had to go on record, he changed his mind.”

  “I’m sort of surprised given how outraged he was.”

  “Yeah, well, his date showed up shortly after I got him out of the comforter and back into clothes. Real clothes.”

  I laughed. “Nothing like a hooker to put a damper on filing a police report.”

  “I gathered from our naked friend that this isn’t the first time you’ve interrupted his cape-wearing adventures.”

  “I don’t know anything about his adventures or the cape,” I said, putting on my best blank expression.

  “Hmm. So what is it you want to tell me?”

  “I have information on Dexter and his girlfriend and on Silas, Molly’s father. My problem is it’s all damning but I don’t have a way to make it cohesive. I have theories but not proof. I was hoping since you were privy to things I’m not that you could take what I had and maybe have a case.”

  “Against who?”

  I sighed. “All three of them?”

  “I think maybe you’d better tell me what you have.”

  I worked through the basics of the information, not telling him the who or the how, ending with identification of both vehicles by the two boys in the fort. As I talked, Carter listened intently and sometimes jotted things down on a pad of paper. When I was done, he blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair.

  “That is a lot to process,” he said.

  “I know. Can you put anything together?”

  He rubbed his jaw and stared out the window. “I’m not sure. I’m going to go ahead and tell you it was Molly’s blood on the side of the boat.”

  Even though I’d already known the score, I felt my heart sink a bit.

  “That sucks,” I said.

  “It does, and what makes matters worse, given the indicated parties, is that I’ve been unable to locate a will. As things currently stand, Ally will probably be able to make a case for the catering business since there’s a legal document and I doubt she’s going to get any opposition, as those opposed don’t have the money to take things to court. But the way things stand right now, the rest of Molly’s property will go to her father. And it sure doesn’t sound like that’s what Molly would have wanted.”

  “No. But if she never got around to making a will, what can you do about it?”

  “Nothing.” He frowned, then sat up straight. “Or maybe that’s not entirely true. With the hole in the side of the boat just below where the blood was found, I have enough to call it a suspicious death, especially with Marissa being a longbow champion. I just can’t prove homicide without a body or a confession. But as long as her disappearance is under investigation, her estate can’t be settled, especially if the heir is also a suspect.”

  “So her father wouldn’t be able to get his hands on her property?”

  “Not right away.”

  “How long could you leave things that way?”

  “I don’t know. He could take it to court and make a case for an earlier declaration, just like he did with her brother. But I’m not sure if he’d get it. With all the questionable circumstances, I can’t see a judge being willing to stick his neck out. Not this time. If he kept pushing, I suppose he might be able to move the needle if a year passes and I haven’t made any progress, but that’s just a guess.”

  “I was hoping for longer.”

  “How much longer?”

  “Until he died?”

  “Ha! Maybe he’ll do you a favor and go early.”

  “You haven’t met the man. He’s mean as a snake. People like that always live forever.”

  Carter frowned. “I didn’t meet him. I talked to him on the phone. But it looks like I need to make meeting him a priority.”

  “What do you think about this insurance policy he claims to be on?” I asked.

  “Honestly? I have no idea what to make of that.”

  “Yeah. Me either. That one came clean out of left field. So what are you going to do about Dexter? Did he see you at the motel?”

  “I’m sure he did but he never poked his head out of his room, so he has no idea that I know he’s there.”

  “I wonder if he’s figured out it was me.”

  “You said he saw you running away, right?”

  “Yeah, but I was wearing a Hello Kitty mask that I, uh…found?”

  Carter gave me a pained look. “He might figure he just got caught up in the middle of some mess in the room next to him. Wrong place at the wrong time. He definitely didn’t go back to check on the naked guy, who managed to roll off the bed and was kicking the wall like a mule when I arrived.”

  “So maybe he doesn’t suspect either of us of having discovered him,” I said. “Can you get a search warrant for that hotel room? There’s nothing left at his apartment except the box of things I bought.”

  “You’re certain about that?”

  “As certain as I can be without questioning the management talents of Winky Bear.”

  “Winky Bear?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to make fun of the name. The dude is the size of the Rock and has a voice like a demon.”

  He nodded. “The facts surrounding the girlfriend and the hole in the boat are probably enough to get me a search warrant of the motel room. But if they were smart, they would have ditched the bow.”

  “They’re not smart. And those bows aren’t cheap. I’d bet money they have it. Make sure the warrant includes their vehicles.” I rose from my chair. “If you don’t have anything else, I’d like to get home and have a shower. Ally is already there and has been baking for an hour. I imagine I’m going to walk into heaven.”

  “I’m a little jealous that I can’t join the party.”

  “You’ve got things to do.”

  He walked around the desk and kissed me. “Thank you for the information. I wish it could be a two-way street.”

  “You just worry about taking down whoever hurt Molly. I don’t think my client cares how it’s done. I know I don’t.”

  Ally was pulling a sheet of cookies out of the oven when I walked in the kitchen. Another sheet full of yummy goodness was already cooling on the stove.
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  “Peanut butter?” I asked.

  She smiled and nodded.

  I groaned. “You know I’m going to eat all of them by tomorrow morning. I’ll have to run half the day to work off the calories. I’m already fifteen pounds up from my fighting weight.”

  “Please, your fighting weight was necessary for what you did then. You look better with a few extra pounds.”

  “Are you saying I was too skinny?”

  “Not at all. You were extremely fit and lean. I wish I had that body for a day just to see how it felt, but you don’t have to maintain that level of leanness now. I’m not saying let yourself go—not that you would—but you don’t have to be ready to take on the world.”

  “I ran from a bear yesterday and an alligator the day before.”

  Ally’s eyes widened. “Okay, then maybe keep up the running regimen.”

  “It’s either that or shoot more.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “What in the world do you ladies get up to that requires you to do all this running from predators?”

  “We’re on a case.”

  “Which means you can’t talk about it. Well, please be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “You’re your version of careful. I think the rest of us mere mortals have other ideas.”

  “Not Gertie.”

  “Gertie is a force unto herself and a study in what not to do.” She nodded toward the table. “I brought dinner. I wasn’t sure how many of us would be here, so looks like you’re in stock with chicken fried steak for a couple days.”

  My mouth started to water. Chicken fried steak was one of my favorite dishes from Francine’s Café. “With the dumplings?”

  “Of course. And jalapeño cornbread.”

  “Ally? Will you marry me?”

  She laughed. “Things might get a little crowded around here with three of us. Are you hungry now? I can pop these in the oven for just a couple minutes and they’ll be good to go.”

  “Ready when you are. I’ll use the time to throw in some laundry. I’ll be going commando if I don’t put a load on. I need to buy more clothes so I can do laundry less often.”

  “A completely valid reason.”

  I headed into the laundry room and started tossing lighter-colored items into the washing machine. I wasn’t much for clothes that required a lot of care, so basically I had five types of loads—light, dark, towels, bed linens, and cleaning rags. Since the pile seemed heavier on lights, I started there. As I lifted a pair of gray yoga pants from the stack, I heard something crinkle. I reached in the pocket and pulled out an envelope.

  Frowning, I turned it over and saw it was addressed to Molly. Then I remembered that I’d snagged an envelope from a bush and shoved it in my pocket just before the rat explosion, leading to the bear chase, leading to being chastised by Carter. I’d completely forgotten it was there. I looked at the return address and my pulse quickened.

  Law Offices of Paul Jamison.

  The envelope was empty but that didn’t matter. We’d just struck gold. I pulled out my phone and did a quick check. His office was in the French Quarter and opened at 9:00 a.m. I’d be on the phone at 9:01 making an appointment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  At 9:30 a.m. Ida Belle, Gertie, and I were on our way to New Orleans. I hadn’t told Carter about the envelope. If he got there first, the attorney would never tell me anything. As it was, I wasn’t sure he’d tell me anything now, but he’d agreed to see me so that was a good sign. All I’d told him was that I had some questions about wills that I thought he could answer. He said he’d be drafting documents all day and to drop in any time and he’d see if he could help.

  His office was a stately brick building with a small balcony with an ornate iron railing on it. There was a plaque that indicated the business inside but that was it. We opened the door and stepped into a beautiful lobby. Parquet floors, leather furniture, marble columns, and what looked like expensive art. Paul Jamison was either deeply in debt or doing very well.

  A silver-haired lady at a desk at the back of the lobby looked over her glasses as we approached.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “My name is Fortune Redding. I spoke to Mr. Jamison earlier and he said to drop by any time today.”

  “Of course. He said to expect you. Let me make sure he’s not on a call.”

  She called his office and let him know we were there, then directed us down the hall behind her and to take the elevator to the second floor. His office was at the front of the building. The second floor appeared to be divided into only three rooms—two offices and a restroom. The walls were paneled with the same glossy wood as the downstairs and the art display continued down the hallway. I knocked quietly on the door and heard a voice inside calling for me to enter.

  We walked inside just as the man behind an ornate wood desk hung up his phone.

  Late fifties. Six foot even. One hundred ninety pounds. Excellent muscle tone but all gym quality. Threat level low, especially wearing a suit and dress shoes.

  “Mr. Jamison,” I said as I moved forward to shake his hand. “Fortune Redding. Thank you so much for seeing me. These are my two assistants, Ida Belle and Gertie.”

  “Please have a seat,” he said and indicated a set of chairs opposite him. “What line of business are you in, Ms. Redding, that you require two assistants?”

  I pulled out one of my cards and slid it across the desk. He picked it up and raised one eyebrow. “Private investigator? I don’t think I’ve ever had a visit from a PI. What is this about?”

  “Molly Broussard,” I said and watched him closely.

  His expression, which had been curious, shifted to worried. “Has something happened to Molly?”

  I made a note that he had forgone formality when referring to Molly, which was a sign that he knew her personally and not necessarily professionally. Or not only professionally. I explained about Molly’s disappearance and that I had a client who wanted me to pursue other angles aside from an accidental death.

  “Your client thinks Molly was murdered?” he asked, looking a bit shocked.

  “Let’s just say my client finds it hard to believe that Molly let down her guard enough to die in a boat given that her brother went the same way.”

  Paul nodded. “I can see where that would be troubling for your client. To be honest, I find it troubling myself.”

  “I take it you knew Molly personally?”

  “In a way. My wife was one of Molly’s junior high teachers. She took a special interest in Molly and we discussed her situation at length.”

  “And what was her situation?” I asked.

  “We had no firsthand knowledge of the things Molly dealt with as a child, you understand, but we’d both seen enough of that kind of domestic issue to fill in the pages of the story. My wife tried to coax information out of her but Molly wouldn’t talk to anyone. I was able to find out that social services had been contacted multiple times but Molly and her brother had always denied any wrongdoing.”

  “And that was that,” I said.

  “Unfortunately,” he said. “My wife did her best to encourage Molly in her studies and used to bring an extra lunch and snacks to share with her. Molly was always on the larger side but she was far too thin for her frame. My wife continued to look out for her throughout junior high and then prayed for the best when she moved to high school. When she walked into my office a month ago and introduced herself, I was more than a little surprised.”

  “But you’d never met before, right? Then why did she come here?”

  “She said she had never forgotten my wife’s kindness and that she remembered her saying her husband was an attorney. Since she had a lot of respect for my wife, she assumed she’d married a good man. I told her I was happy to help. Then she brought me up to speed on her life after high school.”

  “Were you shocked?” I asked.

  “Yes and no,” he said. “The contin
uance of abuse is unfortunately quite common when it’s part of your childhood, but it’s still rare for a woman to kill her abuser. Not that I take issue with it, mind you. I’m rather Old Testament in some ways even though I’m supposed to be a steward of the law. But despite all that had happened, it sounded like Molly had really put her life back together—that things were going in a positive direction.”

  “What was it that Molly wanted you to do?” I asked.

  He frowned. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that. The professional part of our conversation falls under privilege but with Molly missing…”

  “I don’t think anyone will fault you for trying to help her,” I said. “My client just wants the truth and justice, if applicable. What you know might help with that.”

  He nodded. “Molly wanted to talk about her assets, particularly her business, and what would happen in the event that she passed. I asked some questions about the financial viability of the business and its assets, then about the people in her life—those who would have a legal basis for assumption if she were to pass without a will.”

  “My understanding is that everything would go to her father, correct?”

  “Yes. By Louisiana law, the closest living relative would inherit unless there is a will stating otherwise. She told me outright that she was not interested in that outcome. That her father had gotten enough when her brother died. Then she explained that extremely sad situation to me.”

  “Did she mention her boyfriend?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I found Mr. Nutters very concerning. Not because of what Molly said, mind you, but more because of what she didn’t say. I advised her to strongly consider the history and character of anyone she wished to entrust her business to. I was really proud of what she’d accomplished and I could tell she was as well, perhaps for the first time in her life. I didn’t want her hard work to go to someone who wouldn’t treat it the way she did, and I said so.”

  He looked down at the desk and tapped his fingers for a moment, then looked back up at me.