by Mallory Kane
In penciled block letters, the note read, “Hey. Meet me at the shack. I’m 10-10 at 12. Got some stuff for you. B.”
Christy didn’t know what 10-10 meant. But shack and stuff sounded ominous. It could be a drug connection. Or a love note. Or both. Christy shivered. Her younger sister had been involved in an entire world that was alien to Christy. She had no idea how Autumn had gotten started using drugs in the first place. Christy had been out of high school before Autumn entered. She’d been in medical school by the time Autumn had graduated, so busy with school and labs and rounding with the doctors at the medical center that she hadn’t had time for Autumn.
Guilt washed over her again and again she tried to shake it off. She hadn’t had a mother or a big sister to guide her in high school, and she’d done fine.
But Autumn had never been as mature as Christy. Or as careful. Had her sister been taken advantage of? Gotten in over her head and found herself addicted before she realized what had happened? Or had she dived in headfirst, the way she’d always taken on any new project or hobby?
Had Autumn made the conscious decision to send her life down the path that had ended with her murder?
Christy rubbed her face again, pressing on her eyelids to stop their stinging. No matter how it had happened, Autumn’s choices had led her to her death, her father to murder and Christy to this point. She had no idea what she was going to do about the note or the drugs, but she knew one thing for sure.
She couldn’t leave Louisiana until she found out what had happened to her sister. She hadn’t been there for Autumn when it counted, before her death. But now she had a chance to find the person who had murdered her sister. She had Autumn’s SIM card. With any luck, the list of saved phone numbers on that card would contain a clue to “B’s” identity.
Christy was convinced that this “B,” whoever he or she was, knew something about Autumn’s death. And Christy was going to find “B” if it was the last thing she ever did.
REILLY SPENT THE BETTER PART of the night in his apartment overlooking Lake Pontchartrain in Chef Voleur, studying the file Ryker had given him on Autumn Moser. She was killed at eleven o’clock at night on October 26, 2005, her twenty-first birthday, in an alley off Basin Street in the French Quarter, near the St. Louis Cemetery.
Reilly shook his head. That area near the St. Louis Cemetery had always been a rough one. The cemetery was the oldest in New Orleans, and its ancient guests were constantly disturbed by drug deals, muggings and killings.
Had Autumn Moser been down there to score, or had she just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Reilly fanned the pages, looking for Ryker’s signed report. He found it in the back.
Ryker had quoted Albert Moser saying that his daughter had a substance-abuse problem. So Autumn could have been down there to buy drugs. He thumbed through the pages until he came to the crime scene photos. The CSI photographer had caught Autumn Moser’s face in several shots. Her expression was serene.
Reilly shook his head. She must have lain there unconscious for a while before she died. Her face muscles had had time to relax from the distortion of fear and pain. Her hair was too black and stringy and the overdone dark eye makeup she wore was streaked, but something about the eyes and mouth was very much like Christy.
He kept thumbing through pages, past the CSI statements and the autopsy report, until he got to lead detective Fred Samhurst’s typed report.
Cause of death was three gunshot wounds to the chest.
Purse was spilled and her cell phone was missing.
The scrapes on palms and knees and mud spatter on her calves suggest she fell while running. However, the entry wounds place her face-to-face with her killer at near point-blank range.
He flipped back to Ryker’s report. There he saw the same questions that had immediately jumped into his own mind. If the mugger were holding her at gunpoint, why had she run? And why had the mugger chased her, caught her and then shot her?
He returned to Samhurst’s statement. Detective Samhurst had concluded that Autumn Moser’s death was a homicide at the hands of a mugger.
Christy had said she was on the phone with Autumn when she was shot. He flipped a page and found a typed transcription of a phone call Ryker had made to Christy in Boston.
Reilly read through the transcript.
Det. Delancey: I’m Detective Ryker Delancey, St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Department, Ms.—Dr. Moser. I apologize. I’m calling in regards to your sister’s death in 2005. Do you have time to talk for a few minutes?
Dr. Moser: Can you hold a moment?…Now, Detective Delancey is it? I can give you about three minutes. I’m making rounds on the pediatric ward here.
Det. Delancey: I apologize for calling you out of the blue, but I’m looking into your sister’s death. I have a statement by you in the NOPD case file on Autumn Moser that states that you spoke with her at 11:00 p.m. on the night of her death.
Dr. Moser: That’s right. On the phone.
Det. Delancey: You had called her to wish her happy birthday?
Dr. Moser: Yes. I did.
Det. Delancey: Can you tell me why you called so late?
Dr. Moser: I’d had an emergency with one of my patients and had just gotten home.
Det. Delancey: You reached her on her cell phone. Did she say where she was or who she was with?
Dr. Moser: No. Didn’t you say you had my statement in front of you?
Det. Delancey: Yes, I do, but I want to get your perspective about the phone call.
Dr. Moser: She didn’t say where she was, but I could hear vehicles and music.
Det. Delancey: You said you heard her scream.
Dr. Moser: Yes. It sounded like she was running, then she stopped and was breathing hard. I asked her if something was wrong. She said, “Christy!” And then she screamed. Then she said something like, “You bum” or “You scum” or something. I heard gunshots. Then the phone went dead.
Det. Delancey: Do you know how many gunshots?
Dr. Moser: Three? Four? I can’t be sure. Why are you looking into her case now, after all this time?
Det. Delancey: There have been other murders that may have similarities to your sister’s. I want to relook at it in light of these new developments.
Dr. Moser: I see. Have you talked to my father? Albert Moser?
Det. Delancey: Yes.
Dr. Moser: Then you’ve seen how he has been affected by my sister’s death. I’m pleased to know that you’re looking into the case, Detective. I hope you’re able to do something. My sister’s death has ruined my father’s health. I have to go now.
Det. Delancey: Thanks for talking to me, Doctor.
The rest of the transcription was contact information, so Reilly went back to Ryker’s report. After the phone call to Christy, he had called a friend of his, NOPD detective Dixon Lloyd, and asked him about the lead detective on the Autumn Moser case.
Lloyd had told Ryker that since the murder, Samhurst had suffered a mild heart attack and lost thirty pounds, which had left him forty pounds overweight.
Even though Ryker had told him about Samhurst’s weight, Reilly still stared at the numbers. Samhurst had been seventy pounds overweight when he’d caught Autumn Moser’s murder case.
As clearly as if they were on the report in front of him, Reilly could see the words Ryker had not written down. Did Samhurst take the easy way out and write up Autumn Moser’s murder as a mugging?
If he had, he’d contributed to the deaths of four young women and the destruction of two lives, Albert Moser’s and his one surviving daughter, Christy’s.
CHRISTY WAS JUMPY AND nervous at breakfast the next morning. Ella had cooked a full country breakfast, just as she did every morning, so the table was groaning under the weight of scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon, biscuits, toast, sweet rolls, juice and coffee. Christy pushed scrambled eggs around the plate, holding her fork awkwardly in her left hand as she pretended to listen to Ella’s nonstop prattle. The couple fr
om Mississippi happily shoveled food into their mouths. Guerrant, Ella’s husband, drank coffee and stared longingly at the newspaper, which was folded neatly on the corner of the large buffet.
As soon as she could, Christy excused herself and rushed back to her room, afraid to leave the incriminating evidence unguarded for even a few minutes. She closed and locked the door behind her and sat down on the bed, her heart racing.
Not only had she become entangled in her sister’s illegal activities, she was involving innocent people. Because Christy had brought Autumn’s box here, Ella and Guerrant Bardin were technically in possession of illegal drugs on their property.
She unlocked her suitcase and pulled the box out. She set it on the Victorian writing table and stared at it. The fingers of her left hand worried the fraying edge of the cast on her wrist as she considered what she should do.
She should call Reilly. Right now. She shouldn’t hold onto the drugs or the note any longer. Every minute she delayed, she was that much deeper into breaking the law. She was a physician in possession of illegal drugs. She could lose her license. Not to mention that she was endangering the Bardins’ livelihood.
She picked up her phone, then hesitated. Reilly was busy. He’d told her he had something he needed to do today. And he hadn’t told her to call him if she needed him, the way he had the night she was attacked.
She didn’t want to call him in the middle of a meeting, or if he were involved in police business. He’d contact her as soon as he could. She knew that.
For whatever reason, Reilly had appointed himself her personal guardian. He wouldn’t waste any time getting back to her.
When he did, she’d tell him everything. Or almost everything, anyhow.
She slid her phone back into her purse. While she waited to hear from Reilly, she was going to take her rental car and go find a cell phone store. She wanted to see the numbers on that SIM card, numbers Autumn had thought were important enough to keep in her secret hiding place.
Christy locked the box inside her suitcase and draped a scarf casually over it. If anyone disturbed her suitcase, she’d know by the position of her scarf. Then she quickly dressed and, after locking the door to her room, headed out to her rental car. It wasn’t as easy to drive as she’d hoped it would be, but at least she was able to handle the steering wheel and the automatic shift without too much pain or trouble, even with the cast on her right hand.
At the first cellular store she found, she showed the SIM card and the charger cord to the clerk, who told her the phone that took that cord used a larger SIM card.
So the phone Autumn had been using that fatal night was not the same phone the hidden SIM card had come from. The clerk sold Christy a phone that used the same card and all its accessories, including a fully charged battery that Christy talked him into giving her. She could not wait for the battery to charge overnight.
She sat in her car and went through the saved numbers on the card. There were the usual contact numbers for the cellular service plan, Triple A Wrecker Service, a doctor’s office, a pharmacy and a pizza delivery service. The only names that meant anything to her were their dad’s, of course, Christy’s own cell phone number and a number for Laurie Kestler, Autumn’s best friend from high school.
Christy breathed a little sigh of relief that Autumn still had Laurie Kestler’s number. At least she could talk to one person who had known Autumn. That is, she could try. After all, the numbers listed on the card were at least five years old.
She hoped and prayed Laurie could tell her who the other names were. Or at least some of them. From what she remembered of Laurie, she doubted the girl would know anyone called Slick or Jazzy or Glo. But maybe she’d be able to identify Jeff, Tina, Frankie or D.B.
D.B. Could that be the “B” who’d written the note Autumn had hidden in her box? Christy’s pulse raced as she looked at the number. It was a local area code. She could just call—see who answered.
Her thumb hovered over the call button, but she hesitated. If someone did answer, what would she say? Hi there. I think you know something about my sister’s murder?
After staring at D.B.’s number for a moment, she moved her thumb away from the call button and pressed the Down arrow until she got to Laurie.
She dialed it.
“Hello?” a soft voice answered.
“Laurie? This is Christy Moser, Autumn’s sister.”
There was a slight hesitation. Christy was probably the last person Laurie had ever expected to hear from.
“Um, yeah? Hi?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I found your number in Autumn’s things and I wanted to ask you a few questions. Do you have time to talk for a minute?”
“I guess,” she said hesitantly. “I just put the baby down for a nap.”
“The baby?” That surprised Christy. She’d been picturing Laurie as still twenty-one, like Autumn. “How lovely. Congratulations. Boy or girl?”
“She’s a girl. Aynsley. She’s three months old.” Laurie paused. “Um, my mom told me about your father. I—”
“That’s all right, Laurie. I need to find out if you know any of these names.” She read the list of names from Autumn’s SIM card.
“I—don’t think so,” Laurie said.
“I know it’s been five years, but please think. Are you sure none of the names sound familiar?”
“I didn’t know most of the people Autumn hung out with there at the end. We didn’t talk much after she got into all the drugs. I’m—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what Autumn was doing. I know she was into drugs. So you can’t figure out who Glo is? Spelled G-L-O? Or the initials D.B.?”
“There was a guy named Danny that graduated with us. He had a crush on Autumn, but I don’t think his last name started with a B.”
“Do you remember anything else about him?”
“No. He played soccer, I think.”
“What about a boyfriend? Did you know who Laurie was seeing?”
“I really don’t want to—”
“Laurie, listen to me. You’re not going to hurt my feelings and you’re not betraying Autumn’s confidence. You’ll be helping us find her killer.”
“Okay, but please. I don’t want to get into trouble. I should have told the police this back then, but I was in Florida, and they never talked to me.”
Christy felt her pulse fluttering in her throat. Maybe Laurie did know something that would lead to Autumn’s killer.
“It’s okay, Laurie. I swear you won’t get into trouble.” As she finished speaking, Christy heard a baby crying.
“Oh, no, the baby’s awake.” Christy heard movement through the phone. Laurie must be heading for the baby’s room.
“Laurie, just two minutes, please. Tell me what you know.”
The girl sighed. “Autumn bragged to me that her boyfriend could get her stuff—you know.”
Christy did know. Stuff equaled drugs.
“Did she tell you anything about him?”
“He was married, and she used to say that he had to protect his reputation and his job. It was like she was proud that he had to keep her a secret.”
The baby’s crying got louder. Laurie was in the baby’s room now.
“I really have to go,” Laurie said, then whispered cooing baby words.
“All right. Thanks, Laurie.” Christy sighed as she hung up. Not much help. Of course, she hadn’t expected much. From what she remembered about Laurie, she could have predicted that Autumn’s high school friend wouldn’t know Autumn’s newer—probably drug-using—friends.
But the bit about the mystery boyfriend was interesting. He had to protect his reputation and his job. What could that mean? Was he a politician? A well-known businessman? The possibilities were endless, unless Autumn was just bragging.
As for Autumn’s friends, she had more of a lead than before. Maybe if she could find a yearbook from Autumn’s senior year, she could figure out who Danny was. Or eve
n Glo or Jeff.
A phone ringing startled her. For an instant she thought it was the new phone—maybe Laurie calling back. But then she realized it was hers. She looked at the display.
Reilly.
She pressed her lips together as she answered.
“Where are you?” he demanded before she even had a chance to say hello. “And please tell me you’re not driving your rental car.”
“Hi to you too,” she threw back at him.
“Christy—”
“I decided to try driving, and what do you know? I can drive just fine.” She flexed her right fingers and a pain shot along the back of her hand. She winced.
“I thought you said you were going to take a taxi to see your dad.”
“As I just said—”
“So are you at the hospital now?”
“No. I haven’t made it over there yet.”
“You haven’t made it over there. Back to my original question,” he growled. “Where are you?”
“On my way back to the inn.” She swallowed, pressed her lips together again, then continued. “Can you meet me there? I need to show you something.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Tell me you didn’t go back to your dad’s house.”
“I didn’t go back to my dad’s house today,” she said carefully.
She heard Reilly sigh. “Thank goodness. I’ll see you at the inn.”
Christy hung up and started the car. But her gaze strayed back to the new cell phone. It would be so easy just to call one of those numbers. Yes, whoever she called would be a stranger, but she could tell them that she was looking for a friend of her sister’s.
What could it hurt? She picked up the phone and ticked through the stored numbers until she got to D.B. Her thumb hesitated over the call button, but finally, with a deep, fortifying breath, she pressed it.
The phone rang so long she figured it would go to voice mail. When she finally heard a click, she waited, holding her breath, to hear what the message said.
But what she heard wasn’t a prerecorded message. After an infinitesimal pause, a voice said, “Who is this?” The question was a cross between a growl and a whisper, definitely male. Was he trying to disguise his voice? If so, that meant whoever was on the other end of the phone thought the caller might recognize him. Laurie’s words echoed in her head.
