Frank studied the gap for what seemed like a long time.
“What did you hope I’d find?” Hannah asked him.
When he didn’t answer, Ferris thought he wouldn’t, but he finally spoke.
“The material that was found by Nell—Miss Whitby—”
“In the music box?”
He nodded. “There was a gun and some papers. Maybe they meant something to someone at some time.” He rubbed his face.
“Some kind of code?” Ferris asked.
“Maybe.” He met theirs gazes. “It’s not like this is a huge priority. On TV, they get to follow any lead. No worries about money.”
“So no genius code breakers on staff.” Hannah nodded.
She would know about budgetary limitations. Rumor was, they had the smallest budget in the city. Possibly in the whole world.
He shook his head. “Old case. Beyond cold case. Might not even be a case. Only—” He stopped, then continued with obvious reluctance, “—maybe it’s not so old and cold.”
Hannah’s gaze narrowed in a way that put the “holy” back in Ferris’ thoughts. “Something’s happened. Something new. And not just Calvino getting popped.”
“It’s gone…missing.”
He hated admitting it. Ferris didn’t blame him. Sucked.
“From?” Now she looked worried.
“Evidence locker.” He sighed. “The ring is missing, too.”
“Ring?” Hannah’s eyes widened for a minute. She glanced at her desk, then at Ferris.
“The ring that St. Cyr gave Nell—Miss Whitby.”
“Oh right. I’d forgotten about that,” she said.
Frank must be really worried to miss Hannah’s moment of panic, Ferris decided. A distraction seemed in order. “I wonder if Calvino was wearing his when he got popped?”
“Why would anyone care about the rings worn by some old wise guys?”
Holy Hannah shrugged and went back to her desk, tapping the top as if thinking, but Ferris noted her sidelong study of Frank. When he turned back to the coffin, she eased the top drawer open. She closed it, met his gaze with a slight shake of her head.
So Charlie Baker’s ring was gone, too. Would have been nice if he could make a connection, have an aha moment. But the only conclusion he came up with was that someone knew exactly what they were looking for.
Which helped not at all.
* * *
Frank finally left, exuding federal frustration, which was more contained than local cop frustration, Hannah decided with an inward grin. She could remember a time when Alex used to blackmail Frank to get him to shower. Now he shone like a new penny.
At least Frank had made copies of the papers, so that was something. He agreed to send her a copy, though his lack of faith that she’d find something he hadn’t was not surprising. Her brothers couldn’t see past the little sister to the IQ. Of course, if they figured it out, they start having her do their taxes and stuff, but it still made her crazy. Which was crazy and made her head ache.
“I need to get out of here before Calvino’s remains get here or I’ll be stuck. Is Alex incoming? Do you have to stay?”
He shook his head. “It’s taking too long, so I texted Alex and told him I found a ride.” He arched a brow, making it something of a question.
Hannah, packing up her laptop, gave him a look over her shoulder, followed by a nod with possibly a hint of a smile. With everything that had happened, it seemed wrong to feel a spurt of happy at the thought of extending their—whatever it was. Her toes still quivered a bit from the kiss. She grabbed her purse and headed out, Ferris at her side. He didn’t speak until they were in her car with the A/C on.
“So.”
As an opening gambit it lacked focus.
“So.” She shifted restlessly. “How do I report missing—or how do we investigate—something that didn’t—technically—exist?” The missing brick would go in her report, and wouldn’t that add clarity and get them to let someone investigate that missing brick? She put the car in gear. “And that no one but you and I knew about?”
“You, me—and whoever put it there,” he reminded her. He frowned. “You’re sure Guido didn’t see it?”
She kept her foot on the brake while she considered this. It was all too easy to conjure up that bad guy. Why had he returned? What had he hoped to accomplish?
“He didn’t see the ring, I’m sure of that. But,” a chill ran down her back as she recalled the look in his eyes just before his cell rang, “he suspected something.”
“Suspicion is in his wheelhouse,” Ferris said, resting his arm on her shoulder for a comforting moment. “Bettino’s death should keep his attention for a while at least.”
Another upside to a dead wise guy? Almost she chuckled. This was so wrong on so many levels. But, for such an old crime, events were moving oddly fast. She considered that as she carefully backed out of her spot. Were events moving fast? Or was someone ramping up the pace? Growing up with a million siblings, one developed a fine sense of time. One had to if one ever wanted to use the bathroom.
“I wonder,” she slowly accelerated toward the street, “how hard it would be to find photos of Ellie and Charlie?” She braked at the street edge and looked at Ferris.
“You’re thinking of using aging software, see what they look like now?” Ferris looked thoughtful. “I can help with that. Think we need to do a…careful background check on both of them.” He slanted her a look. “Chances are, they are both long dead.”
“I know. But what about an unknown player?” Interesting that he’d followed her line of thought. Only—was Zach protecting someone else? She pulled out into traffic. That idea was unsettling, as was her next. “Or—”
“Or?”
“A family member?”
A pause. “You think Nell—”
“I don’t want to think it, but this all started because of her. She’s been here for a couple of years. And only now do things start to happen?” She waited for a light. “Someone—or several someones—thought Nell knew something.” She’d finally produced the papers that had gone missing. Claimed she hadn’t known they were hidden in an old music box of her dad’s. “It is stretching it a bit to think she just randomly came to New Orleans and, oops, finds a bunch of nasty relatives.”
Ferris acknowledged her point with a nod. “Alex trusts her.”
Hannah actually trusted Nell when she was around her but when she wasn’t? When she lined up the facts? It got harder. Was Nell super good at hiding who she really was? Or just super good?
“Alex wants to believe her.” She held up a hand. “But—you have a point. It’s just a little easier to see her as—interesting—than believe that some geriatrics from the past have returned to wreak cold—old—vengeance.”
Ferris grinned. “But much more interesting.”
Hannah found she could chuckle. Because he was right. And it would be much better for all of them if Alex’s girlfriend didn’t turn into a Mafia princess.
Three
Hannah felt a need to see Zach. Funny how that need surfaced when one’s world went a bit askew. She resisted it, resolutely not steering her car in her dad’s direction. Zach couldn’t right it and confession would not be good for her soul right now. And that’s what would happen if she saw Zach while deep in the guilt trip. Didn’t seem right that he’d been MIA for much of her childhood, but he could reduce her to child status with a look. And there was the fact that she had Ferris with her, which would send his grizzled eyebrows up for sure.
Her next thought was that she’d like to talk Nell. “Do I need to connect you with Alex or…?”
“We should go talk to Nell.”
She shot him a look in time to catch a wry grin. Had he read her mind?
“It seems like the next logical step.”
“You think—”
“No. I don’t think she’s involved, but she might know something she doesn’t know she knows.” Perhaps she looked skeptical, becau
se he added, “If this is something reaching out of the past, she’s the only connection left of her parents.”
That they knew about, she amended. “And how do we question her around Alex? About a case neither of us is actually on? A case that will probably be closed by the DA tomorrow?”
“I like a challenge.” His gaze clashed with hers until the light change gave her a reason to look away.
Did he consider her a challenge? Hard to imagine, but a girl could hope. Even as she adjusted direction toward Nell’s digs, she felt resistance. Was she ready to see Alex with her lips still tingling from contact with Ferris’? She’d promised to call him Logan, she reminded herself. And because the name wasn’t coming easy, she hadn’t called him anything since that first time. Sad. So sad. Though—did she want to manage the name adjustment right before she faced Alex? He didn’t have Zach’s level of dad radar, but Alex did have an unsettling knack of noticing things just when one counted on him to be clueless. It was one of the more annoying things about her eldest brother.
She turned onto St. Charles and reflected—not for the first time—on the dichotomy that was New Orleans. Enchanting, frustrating and in the end, clinging. She’d left at sixteen for college. Common sense said she’d make more money, be many degrees cooler, and find parking easier almost anywhere else. She knew what it meant to miss New Orleans. So she’d come home, and not just because of family and food. There was something about her city that dug into the heart and refused to be rooted out, not even by a big old hurricane. Common sense, logic, even self-interest faded away in the face of good jazz, great food, and—she studied the street line with elegant houses from another time with the knowledge that just a few streets over the charm might fade to rundown—and sighed. The Big Easy. She wasn’t always easy, but it didn’t seem to matter to those who called her home. Impossible to explain the why and wherefore when she didn’t understand it.
She spotted a parking spot and did the math on how far it was from the St. Charles mansion where Nell lived and worked. Decided it was close enough to grab, knew she’d probably see something closer—but only if she parked. Weird parking karma was one of those crazy, mystical things about New Orleans. As was being obsessed with parking.
She pulled in, stopped the engine, and looked at Ferris. He grinned.
“I’d have taken it, too.”
They climbed out. The big oak trees flung their shade over them, the light filtering through the leaves in interesting patterns on the uneven sidewalk and giving them the illusion they were cooler. Even exhaust fumes couldn’t completely cover the sweeter smell of grass, flowers and trees.
“Do you think the children tell you something about the parents?” she asked, as she stepped out of the way of a cluster of students.
Ferris arched his brows. “That’s a loaded question.”
“Nature versus nurture.” She was quiet for several steps. “Heavily loaded, I guess. I could expound a bunch of theories, but most people think that if the kids are being what the parents want, then it’s nurture, if not…Nell’s parents seem to make the case for nature.”
Nurture sure hadn’t made them honest. She cast him a sidelong look, curious about his parents. She’d noticed the hint of something in his tone when he’d talked about being an only child. It was a bit of a shock to realize just how little she knew about him, well, about his life before New Orleans. How had the daughter of a cop managed to totally not get the interrogation gene? She had no clue how to dig into his past—at least not while he was alive. She also sucked at small talk. She tended to lose threads when stray comments sent her thoughts off in tangents. She could be dogged, as today proved, when the topic was of sufficient interest. Or when digging through a body. She’d managed to spend a couple of hours with Ferris and not once gotten lost in some stray, scientific thought path. Well, once she got past wondering about how he might die and what he’d look like dead. Did that count as losing the plot or not losing it?
“They certainly lived squeaky clean lives in Wyoming. Not even a traffic ticket. Well,” he amended, “other than the whole fake identity issue.”
“Shades of gray,” Hannah murmured. Honestly living a fabricated life. Did that qualify as squeaky clean? How did Nell feel about it all, she wondered. What would she feel if she found Zach was not who she thought he was? That was hard to wrap her brain around. Zach was Zach—and yet, what if he had helped Nell’s parents, or Ellie and Charlie, to hide? What did he know? Zach’s past could still blow up in her face. And she couldn’t imagine that or figure out how to get him to open up about it. Zach wasn’t a real person. He was her dad. Hannah had observed many dads, good, bad and indifferent. Zach, in her opinion, was a good one. But something, possibly her IQ, hampered their relationship in way that none of the other siblings seemed to experience. Or maybe she just thought about it more than the others. And now they got to add possible secrets into the mix. Zach and secrets? Yeah, more not-real to make her eye twitch.
One block up, they reached the house. Hannah never knew whether to knock or go in, since the home was also Nell’s roommate’s business. The plaque by the imposing door informed the interested that Blue Bayou Catering could be found within. Ferris answered her unasked question, by rapping on the door, then opening it.
“Alex? Nell? Sarah?”
It seemed like he knew both women pretty well for first names. The thought formed and then she chided herself for it. Of course he knew them. And well enough for first names. This was New Orleans where strangers called you “baby” or “sugar.” And if you were enough older, they tacked a mister or miss before your first name in the interests of being respectful.
Hannah assumed it was Sarah who poked her head out of her office. They hadn’t actually met before. And she wasn’t Nell, who Hannah had met. Did this count as a deduction?
“They’re in the kitchen.”
“She okay?” Ferris lounged forward, hands in his pockets.
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” Sarah said, her gaze tracking past Ferris to Hannah.
Hannah felt immediately self-conscious. Hot from the walk and frumpy around the classically cool and stylishly dressed Sarah.
“You’re…a sister,” she stated, her gaze tracking down, then up.
“Hannah. Oldest sister,” she added in a tone turned painfully prim.
“Wow. First girl after seven boys? No pressure there.” Her smile was laden with a easy charm that was, to Hannah, so very Southern.
Hannah felt her mouth curve in response, even as she wondered how Ferris managed to notice her around Sarah. Blonde, beautiful, nicely shaped skull. Mostly likely to die of natural causes after a long and lovely life. Two of her brothers thought her interesting enough to mention her, though they both claimed it was her cooking they liked. Her gaze flicked down the small boned skeletal structure nicely padded in all the correct places. Yeah, obviously they loved her cooking.
Sarah’s smile widened and Hannah realized she’d been giving her what her siblings called her “dissecting look.” She tried to stop, managed a stiff smile that was softened by the kindness in Sarah’s eyes. A bit unusual, in Hannah’s experience, for a popular girl to be kind, at least to someone like her. One almost felt one could be friends with her, a shocking thought for the Baker family geek.
“You’re the forensics specialist, aren’t you?”
Hannah nodded, her smile turning into a grin. “Let me guess. One of them told you I dig through brains?”
Sarah laughed. “They might have mentioned it.”
“I’m impressed you figured out what I actually do.”
“I like CSI shows. And yes, I know they glam it up.”
Hannah chuckled. “I like them, too,” she admitted. “And I don’t always pick them apart. Mostly I just wish for the cool equipment. And that I was paid enough to get the fun clothes Abby wears on NCIS.”
“I love that show. Oh, TV budgets,” Sarah said, with a chuckle.
“If only I didn’t nee
d to eat and pay my rent,” Hannah chuckled, though just a bit weakly. The end of the month was always interesting.
Sarah’s grin faded to a speculative look. “I wouldn’t want to insult you or anything, but I sometimes need extra hands with serving? Pay isn’t great, but…”
Hannah straightened a bit, her ears perking up at the sound of extra pay. It’s not like she could do off-duty security work since she couldn’t secure stuff. “I’m really hard to insult. Seven big brothers made sure of that. And just by working at the NOCC I think I’ve indicated a willingness to work for peanuts.”
Sarah grinned again. “Got a card? Or just a number?”
Hannah laughed, patting her pockets. She pulled out a bent card and handed it to her with a wry look. “Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s got your number.”
“Is this a ‘girls only’ op?” Ferris asked.
To Hannah’s amusement, they looked at him in almost perfect synch.
“I thought you cops all have after hours security gigs?” Sarah finally asked.
“Little harder to get them when your hours keep changing.”
Thanks to Alex ticking off various politicians at regular intervals, they kept getting night shifts at random intervals. Hannah held back a grin.
Sarah held out her hand. “I don’t discriminate.”
A small silence formed after this second exchange of contact info, but not an uncomfortable one.
“Mind if we—” Ferris nodded toward the hallway.
“Be my guest,” Sarah said easily. “Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’ll call you?”
Hannah nodded, surprised to hope Sarah would call and not just for work. As they started down the hall, a chime and a creak announced the opening of the front door.
“Afternoon, Miz Gladys.” Sarah said, her tone businesslike-warm rather than “I know you” warm. “Hope you and yours are well?”
“Fine thank you, Sarah, how are you?” The new arrival responded with the weirdly sweet tone of someone who talked to kids so much she forgot to change it up for adults. There was also a tiny hint of lady of the manor to the serf. Bet she’d smell like cookies, Hannah decided, expensive ones, then felt an immediate need for something salty, as if the sugar had reached out and coated her tongue.
Dead Spaces: The Big Uneasy 2.0 Page 5
