by Robin Caroll
“Seems like Anna Belle’s, Georgia’s, and Franklin’s”—Danielle used two fingers on both hands to make invisible quotation marks—“pressure points”—she dropped her hands back to the table—“were about things they just didn’t like, but Hugh’s was about a fear. A real fear from his fall as a young man.”
Grayson couldn’t help but be impressed that she caught that. He nodded. “Hugh’s profile didn’t indicate any specific dislikes, so we needed to go with a fear to knock him off balance. Everyone else had a fear addressed that evening.”
“You made the decision to put a snake in Franklin’s bed.” Danielle gave a teeny shudder at the word snake.
Grayson nodded.
“You made the decision to have someone put on the Mardi Gras mask to scare Anna Belle,” Brandon continued.
Again Grayson nodded.
“Who? Who actually put on the mask and tried to scare her?” Brandon held his pen poised over his notebook.
“Vic Abshire, one of my team members who was at the house. He wore it and made a point to let Anna Belle catch glimpses of him in the hall. Then, while everyone was distracted by Franklin’s snake, he wore the mask outside in the backyard, looking up at her window. He made sure she saw him.”
“And Georgia? What fear did she face that evening?” Danielle asked.
Grayson resisted the urge to ask for a bottle of water, even though his mouth was as dry as if he’d chewed a wad of cotton. “Her email inbox was filled with images of a veve and other symbols of voodoo, and while Vic wore the mask outside Anna Belle’s room, Stratton Reeves, one of the guys on Colton’s team, had taken white shoe polish and drawn a pentagram on her bedroom window.” He caught the look between the two detectives. “He washed it off later that night of course so it wouldn’t be detected the next morning.”
“And Hugh?” Brandon asked.
“He received several notices via calls, texts, emails, and updates of certified letters that his house was being foreclosed on, creditors were calling.” Grayson saw their bewildered looks. Hmm. Interesting. Hugh apparently didn’t mention any of this in his statement. “Hugh had been a victim of identity theft not too long ago, and he’d just gotten his credit rating and record fixed.”
“But a bigger fear of his was addressed with the fake fire, wasn’t it?” Danielle asked.
Ah, yes. The fake fire.
“I mean, having lost his mother in a fire, the fake fire was a lot more personal to Hugh than the others.” The disapproval lined every inch of Danielle’s face.
He’d debated on using a perceived fire. He and Pam had gone over it and over it so many times, but finally he’d decided to go for it. “Every indication I had, and my gut instinct, told me that using this would allow Hugh Istre to showcase his heroic tendency.”
“You knew he was heroic?” Danielle asked.
“I didn’t know for certain, but his profile put heroism in a high probability.” Grayson shrugged. “My gut instinct confirmed it.”
“You brought a man’s emotional scars to the surface based on your gut instinct?” Danielle’s brows were so far up they could’ve reached into her hairline.
Grayson held up his hand. “That wasn’t the best choice of words. Based on my education, training, and experience, I concurred with the markers from Hugh’s profile results.”
She made a tsking sound but scribbled in her notebook.
“Are you usually right with your gut instinct”—Brandon caught himself and rephrased—“your opinion based on your education, training, and experience?”
Grayson couldn’t stop the little grin. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, yes. It’s very infuriating to my assistant.” He wouldn’t use Pam’s name to bespeak of familiarity. Not after Danielle’s implication last night.
“I would imagine.” Danielle clearly related to the emotion. “This fake fire crew—we’ll need their names and numbers.”
“Actually, we rented the fire truck, which really isn’t a fire truck. It’s used a lot in parades and private functions. The firemen were actually from the catering company we contracted with.”
Brandon flipped pages in the folder. “Lagniappe Eats?”
Grayson nodded. “Our contact there is Xavier Newsom.”
“Back to Hugh Istre.” Danielle opened her folder. “His mother had died in a fire when he was a teenager because she couldn’t get out of the building.” She shut the folder. “How could you be sure that putting him in the situation you did wouldn’t result in a tragedy?”
“There is no guarantee, not when dealing with people’s responses to any given circumstance. Doctors face this all the time.”
“But you aren’t a real doctor,” she blurted out.
Grayson smiled. “Actually, Danielle, I am a real doctor. Not only do I have a degree, but I am also state certified.”
She clenched her mouth shut.
Brandon set down his pen. “It appears you were correct in your assessment. Hugh did move to assist Georgia, although the caterers had already helped her?”
Grayson nodded. “They knew the props we used and were given the baking soda to throw into the pit to dry it up almost instantly. The point is that Hugh, despite being forced to recall what was probably one of the worst times of his life, and being in a similar situation, was able to rise above it and react positively to someone in need. That’s a sign of a good leader.”
“He’s the one who got the snake out for Franklin as well, right?” Brandon asked.
“Yes.”
“It would appear, by the events we’ve discussed thus far, that Hugh was in the lead for the promotion, wouldn’t you say?” Brandon asked. “He said in his statement that Tim Dubois had announced that Hugh was the only one to complete his given task on Wednesday evening. Considering these other aspects, surely that would put Hugh ahead of the rest, right?”
Grayson couldn’t get the image of Hugh Istre and Anna Belle kissing out of his mind.
Yes, they were divorced. Yes, she’d already been involved with someone else. It didn’t help the knot in his stomach whenever he thought of them together.
Grayson shoved the image away. “That would be my assessment, yes.”
“So, at this point, it seems like Tim Dubois would be promoting Hugh. Just based on Wednesday night’s results?” Danielle asked.
“I really can’t say.” Grayson swallowed against his dry mouth as another image filled his mind. Not of Anna Belle and Hugh kissing, but of Tim seeing them. The look on the man’s face was a mixture of shock—he didn’t know the two were intimate—and rage.
Pure, unadulterated rage.
Had Tim Dubois been so angry that he was no longer in control of his emotions? Grayson could understand how devastating betrayal by the woman you loved felt. He knew how raw and desperate being left without the ability to do anything felt.
Had those feelings been enough to push Tim Dubois to kill Anna Belle?
NINETEEN
Here was what Brandon knew for fact: Grayson Thibodeaux was thirty-four years old, was a licensed psychologist, and was co-owner of Game’s On You. Brandon also knew that Grayson had consulted for the New Orleans Police Department for two years following his departure from his private practice with three other head doctors. He knew Grayson had left private practice following a tragedy in which a teen Grayson treated while his partner was away had committed suicide.
Brandon also knew Grayson Thibodeaux wasn’t a killer. No way had he killed his wife. It wasn’t in his makeup.
Proving that, however, was more trying that he’d initially thought. Especially when Grayson seemed to butt against Danielle at every given opportunity.
“Tell us again about the Scheduled Maternity pamphlet you say Emmi put in Anna Belle’s room.” Danielle popped her knuckles, then picked up her pen again.
“I didn’t know a thing about it until I saw it on the video.” Grayson’s expression was unreadable, like a mask had slipped into place.
“But you knew about
the abortion Anna Belle had eight months ago?” Danielle wasn’t going to let up.
Even though it had to be killing Grayson inside, Brandon couldn’t say anything. She was doing her job. Exposing Grayson’s own tumor. Oh, the irony.
“Yes, I learned about that a few weeks ago when I received Anna Belle’s medical records.”
“You didn’t know about it when your wife scheduled, had, and recovered from an abortion?” It seemed Danielle would do her best to yank the scab off the wound. Then pour salt into it.
“No.” Even Grayson’s eyes were guarded.
“But you knew she was pregnant, right?” Danielle asked.
Grayson licked his lips, the first sign of emotion. “No.”
“What?” Danielle opened the file and pretended to read. “Her medical records indicate she was thirteen weeks pregnant at the time of the abortion. That’s entering the second trimester. Surely you, as her husband, had to have noticed symptoms. Morning sickness. Weight gain. Tenderness in certain areas.”
“No. I didn’t notice anything.”
“Hmm.” She closed the file. “According to the clinic files, she was there for six hours, then had to have someone pick her up from the clinic. That wasn’t you?”
“No.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know.” Little chips in his stone expression pinged out with her every digging question.
She tapped her finger against her chin. “Do you know if the baby she aborted was yours?”
Grayson’s eyes widened and the muscles in his jaw flicked. “I. Don’t. Know.”
But he was about to lose it.
“We watched the video this morning and saw Emmi take the appointment card and pamphlet into Anna Belle’s room. Do you have any idea how Emmi would have known about the appointment?”
Grayson shot him a quick look of appreciation. “I don’t. I assume either from her husband or she had access to the packet sent over to us.”
“Why would he tell his wife?” Danielle asked.
Grayson shrugged. “I don’t know. I was asked if I had any ideas. Those are the only two I thought of how she would know.” If stares were lethal, Danielle would be obliterated right then and there.
“Anna Belle never said anything, absolutely nothing?” Brandon still couldn’t believe that a woman would be so cold and callous to have done such a thing without a word.
Grayson shook his head, but Brandon caught the lightning tic in his right eye.
“Nothing? No matter how vague or minuscule?”
“She called me a little after nine on Thursday morning.” Grayson licked his lips again. “That would’ve been right after she got back in her room after breakfast and found the pamphlet.”
“What did she say?” Brandon asked.
Grayson shrugged. “I had already lost my phone, so I didn’t know she’d called.”
Brandon worked to contain his anticipation. “But you’ve gotten a new one, with the same number, right, so you could check your voice mail?”
Grayson nodded. “She didn’t leave a message that time. But she called me later that afternoon, a little after one, and she left a voice message then that said we needed to talk.”
“You need to talk? That’s it?” Danielle asked.
“I’m betting she figured out that she was in a game.”
“How would she do that?” Danielle asked.
“She was my wife. She knew what I did, knew how our games worked. She’d sat with me and Colton when we first started the company and heard details. She wasn’t stupid.” Grayson ran a hand over his hair. “I warned Colton that she might figure it out.”
Brandon nodded. He’d wondered that himself. “So, let’s say she figured out it was a game. Why would she call you? To tell you she knew?”
“If she figured out it was a game and then saw the pamphlet, it’s not too far of a reach that she would think I knew what she’d done.”
“Still, why would she call?” Danielle asked. “To apologize?”
Grayson gave a wry smile. “It wasn’t Anna Belle’s nature to apologize. I would guess if she figured out it was a game, and finding that in her room, she’d assume I knew and used her procedure to let her know I knew.”
“That’s a mind boggle in the worst way.” Brandon shook his head.
“I know. It is confusing.”
“She would naturally assume, I’m guessing, that you would use this against her in a game. The abortion.” Danielle tapped her pen against her hand.
“That’s the only reason I can think of why she would call me and leave me a message.” Grayson didn’t volunteer anything further.
“Let’s move on.” Brandon silenced his partner with a quick look as he opened his folder and flipped through it, not really having anything else to ask that they hadn’t already covered. He closed the folder and his notebook. Time to change modes. “About last night’s call. Forensics didn’t find any fingerprints on the rock or paper, except yours and Pam’s.”
Grayson nodded. “I didn’t expect much.”
“After sleeping on it, did you think of anyone who could have done this?”
“My only guess would be someone who cared for Anna Belle and thinks I had something to do with her death.”
“That would be a good guess,” Danielle offered, but there was no denying she wasn’t a fan of Grayson’s and everyone knew it.
“Do you have any leads?” Grayson snapped at her.
Her sarcasm flared. “Not yet. Although, you know, sometimes murderers will do bad things to themselves to garner sympathy and try to throw off suspicion.”
Grayson narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Are you suggesting that I slashed all four of my tires and threw a rock through my own window to—what did you say?—garner sympathy and throw off suspicion?”
“No one suggested you did anything like that.” Brandon shot Danielle a hard look. Wasn’t she reading the suspect and the situation?
“Oh, I think your partner was making that very suggestion.” Grayson stood. “And I think I’m done.”
Danielle shot to her feet. “I’m not finished with your interview yet.”
Brandon stood as the two of them squared off. He’d had many criminals in the hot box over the last several years, but never was the tension as taut as right in that moment.
Grayson’s stare was pure steel. “Then you’ll need to contact my lawyer to set up another interview because—this one?—it’s over.” He nodded at Brandon, then opened the door and walked out.
“What was that?” Brandon asked his partner.
“What?” She grabbed her stuff and slammed the chair back under the table. “He’s sure touchy. Acting like a man with a guilty conscience if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” He grabbed his own stuff.
Danielle blocked the door. “Look, I know he’s your friend, but he’s a murder suspect. My top one.”
“We have differing opinions. Emmi Dubois is top on my list.”
She shrugged. “They both had motive, means, and opportunity, but he’s her ex.” She relaxed her bulldog look. “Come on, Brando, she aborted his baby and didn’t tell him. He might not have planned to kill her before, but after finding out that little bit of info? You know that could’ve pushed him to it. You saw his reaction. Every time I said the word abortion, he about puked.”
“Sure, he was upset. That’s a lot for a man to take. Especially a man of faith.” He’d gone to church with Grayson a couple of times when his church’s preacher was out. The man’s faith wasn’t just a card he carried—it was the life he lived. Another reason he wouldn’t have killed Anna Belle, no matter what he’d found out. “But being upset doesn’t mean he killed her. Besides, at least my suspect was at the scene. Not a single person saw Grayson at that house after he left town on Wednesday. There is not a single shred of evidence that he came back before Sunday night.”
Danielle sighed and started down the hall toward their desks. “Not
that it really matters, considering he set up the game and could’ve put the poisoned energy drink in her room before she even got there, but regardless of that, he can’t account for his whereabouts for about six hours. Watching TV and dozing. Really? Those six hours give him plenty of time to drive back to New Orleans, put the energy drink in her room, and get back to St. Francisville in plenty of time to meet up with his friends for dinner.”
He matched his partner step for step. “But during that time frame, there’s not one piece of evidence that he wasn’t in his room at the lodge doing just what he said he was doing.”
She shook her head. “Yeah, it’s very fortuitous that he lost his phone in the creek so his location couldn’t be determined by pinging the cell phone towers.”
“People lose cell phones all the time.”
“But in this case, it seems to be mighty convenient, now doesn’t it?” Danielle wore her smirk like a badge of courage as she pulled out her chair.
But she’d just made him realize something. Brandon dumped his stuff on the desk and opened his notebook. “You do realize what the video also shows, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Grayson’s statement is that he left the clubhouse on Thursday at one ten. We confirmed it with the clubhouse and his friends. And we know he did go into his room at the lodge, according to the electronic key register, at one twenty-four.”
“Right.”
“It takes an hour and fifty-five minutes or so to get from the lodge back to New Orleans.” He used the calculator on his smartphone and turned it so she could see. “If he left immediately after he went back to his room at one twenty-four, that doesn’t give him the time to get back to the house on Esplanade Avenue and be in the hall between two forty-one and two fifty-nine, which has been deleted off the video. He wouldn’t have had to get there until after three. It just doesn’t add up.”
