CHAPTER 51
BJ typed:
After receiving a phone call from Rex, Alma decided it was high time she went to Houston. Lately, Rex spent far more time doing business in Texas than he did in his office in New Orleans.
Rex mentioned the name of the hotel where he was supposedly meeting a couple of businessmen. Not wanting to leave a trail for investigators to follow, should there be an investigation, she made the five and a half hour trip to Texas in her own car using cash to pay for the gas.
Wearing a wig, a thick pair of reading glasses and dressed in a conservative navy blue pantsuit; she entered the hotel lounge and slid onto a barstool. Her heart caught in her throat when she observed the faces in the room and found Rex and blondie cuddling in a dim lit corner.
Businessmen, my ass, thought Alma.
Rex looked her way. She instantly bowed her head causing several strands of red hair to fall over the sides of her face. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers until he caught the barman’s attention. The barman ambled over to their table, still wiping his hands on a small towel. He flung the towel over his shoulders and placed his hands on his hips. “Another round,” he asked.
“Yep. We’re gonna do ‘er again,” Rex said. He winked at the woman, and then grinned mischievously. She giggled.
Alma squeezed the cigarette pack in her hand hard enough to crush the contents. She tossed the pack in her purse. Sipped tequila, watched them over the rim of her glass, and plotted her next move.
One thing she knew for certain. They were going to die.
In some sort of a freak accident?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Beyond shooting them where they were sitting, the when and where of their early demise depended on chance.
CHAPTER 52
The last time Gary talked with BJ she informed him she had collaborated with someone in law enforcement on her new story. She said the story was based on a true crime. That’s it. Not only was she intent on protecting her source, but the details, as well. Does she honestly think I’m the kind of writer who would steal another writer’s ideas? Or is something else going on? Captain Oliver Foret broke into his thoughts when he called everyone in for a briefing on the alley murders.
The man standing beside Gary took notes.
Facing Foret, Gary glimpsed sideways to read what he’d written so far: murders quite grisly, buy BJD’s thriller, missing cross and chain, women not raped, cop undercover vanished.
Gary’s eyebrows shot straight up. He didn’t hear Foret say anything about Nolin’s necklace. Casually rubbing the side of his neck, he tilted his head enough to read the guy’s nametag. His heartbeat paused mid-thump. Wentzel. He remembered now where he’d heard the name before. Gary sidestepped the rookie, crossed the room, and stood next to Lucas.
“Meet me in the parking lot when Foret gets done,” Gary whispered out of the side of his mouth. “I think I know who the killer is.”
>+<|>+<
Gary walked purposefully across the parking lot. Saw Lucas standing beside the sedan smoking a cigarette. He retrieved the keys from his pocket, clicked the unlock button, and got in behind the wheel.
Lucas dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. Got in on the passenger side. “What’s up?”
“Not here.”
Gary drove to Binyay Restaurant on the south side. Pulled up to the takeout window, and ordered café au lait times two along with a couple of their famous little square doughnuts, deep-fried and dusted with powdered sugar. The woman took his money. Handed him the change.
When she stepped away from the window, Gary said, “I’m pretty sure I know who the killer is, but I need more proof before I tell Foret.”
Before Lucas could respond, the woman reappeared with their order.
Gary set the go-cups in the drink holders and the paper sack beside them on the console between the seats. He drove around the corner of the small building, and parked in a slot under a shade tree. They munched on sweet goodness, each gazing at nothing in particular.
Lucas had a hard time resisting going back for seconds. He rubbed his round belly. Made a mental note to visit the gym. Finished his drink. Tossed the cup in the sack.
“All right, Gary. Out with it.”
Gary wanted to chew on the facts a bit longer. He already knew Lucas was eager to talk. He crammed the last bite in his mouth, wadded up the wrapper and tossed it in the sack. Took a long swallow of coffee. Rubbed his tongue over his teeth. Sucked the remaining coffee out of the cup. He wiped a hand down his moustache. Lit a cigarette.
“I’m almost positive it’s Jeff Wentzel.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Gary’s eyes widened. “You already suspected Wentzel? And you didn’t say anything?”
Lucas kind of shrugged. “I guess I was quicker on the uptake than you.” He grinned. “Nah, seriously, I just figured it out last night.”
Lucas told Gary what happened at the house on Caulfield Lane, stopping short of mentioning BJ Donovan. In particular, he didn’t want him to know he’d become her shadow. Gary had strong feelings for her. Without proof positive, he’d have to tread lightly. He’d seen a few close friendships torn apart by someone making disparaging remarks about someone else’s love interest.
Then again, none of them had slept with Louisiana’s most wanted.
“Why do you suspect Wentzel? Other than the fact that he has the same last name of the homeowner on Caulfield.”
Gary extinguished his cigarette. Debated about another. Debated about trying to quit again. “He knew about the necklace, Nolin’s necklace. Besides you, Wyatt, Foret, and me, no one knew about the missing gold cross and chain, except the person who had taken it.”
“How do you know Wentzel knows about the necklace? I didn’t hear him say anything.” Lucas tried to remember.
“He didn’t. He took notes during the briefing.”
“Ahh. Did he also write about the other missing items? Sarri’s wedding band? Yeager’s badge we knew in advance she’d stashed in her bra because,” a moment of silence, “because she said it’d make her feel a bit safer?”
“It’s possible. I may’ve walked away from him too soon.” Gary lit another cigarette, feeling antsy. “Second, there’s the letter. The one placed on my desk. Not just anyone can make it all the way up to the third floor and put something on our desks without someone noticing. So I’m thinking the writer and deliverer was someone familiar to everyone, enough so to be able to approach my desk pretty much unnoticed. Third, the asinine expression, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Who the hell says that and why?”
“Jeff Wentzel, that’s who. Who knows why? It’s as dumb a saying as the one about crying over spilt milk. Makes me wonder if someone crumbled a cookie in their milk, decided it was a bad idea, then dumped it out?” Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know how this kind of shit gets started in the first place, so I think I turned a deaf ear the first time he said it.”
“We need to check this guy out. I mean, what the hell do we know about him? I got the impression he’s a loner. Probably because he doesn’t socialize with any of the other rookies when they’re off-duty. Now’s the best time for him to bond with the others. Y’know? They’re the ones who’ll have his back someday.”
“I heard he’s got a short military history. Went to college for a bit. Worked odd jobs. Nothing else. He must’ve passed a background check to have gotten this far.” Lucas decided, for now, not to tell Gary he’d also become Wentzel’s shadow. “In the short amount of time I’ve spent around him, I noticed his personality seems to run hot and cold, and the temper I perceived just beneath the surface troubles me. He makes all the mistakes of an over-achiever. I’m sure there are other aspects of his life we could pursue. We can do it discreetly.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “We need to talk to Foret about getting a search warrant for us. Then we need to pay a visit to the home of a fellow officer.”
Gary pulled up beside a trash receptacle, and tossed in the sack.
He drove to Sonnier’s house first. BJ’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
Where are you, baby, he wondered.
Then he wondered why Lucas didn’t question why they were there.
CHAPTER 53
Captain Oliver Foret folded his hands over a short stack of paperwork on his desk when two detectives entered his office.
Gary Northcutt closed the door behind them.
“We need to talk to you about,” Lucas Cantin glimpsed over his shoulder at the outer office on the other side of the mini-blinds, “Wentzel.”
They brought Foret up to date on their investigation where Officer Jeff Wentzel was at the forefront of it.
“We need you to ask for a search warrant,” Gary concluded.
>+<|>+<
Gary glimpsed around for Lucas while he pulled his chair out. He sat behind his desk. Gave a little thought to calling BJ. She was in a safe place, and he knew she was working on her new story, so he’d been trying to leave her alone.
Since the night they had made love for the first time, though, he hadn’t been able to stop daydreaming about her. He was truly head over heels in love with BJ Donovan.
He called Laertes Sonnier’s house. Left a message for BJ on the answering machine. Called her cell phone. It wasn’t on. Changed his mind about calling her home phone. Her husband might answer. With his hand resting on the desk phone, he reached in his pocket for the pack of cigarettes not there.
Bad time to quit… again.
Lucas appeared before him. The glum look on his face rivaled the news he shared. Their request for a search warrant had been denied. “Reason being, not only is this one of our own, but the evidence is too circumstantial.”
They stared at one another. Nodded in agreement.
“I need to visit the head first.” Gary walked toward the men’s room. “Meet you outside.”
Arriving at Wentzel’s apartment a few minutes later, the men waited in the car and canvassed the area. They knew Wentzel traveled most of downtown on foot.
“C’mon, Lucas.”
They parted company on the sidewalk.
Lucas headed for the rear of the building to keep an eye on the fire escape.
Gary rushed upstairs to Wentzel’s apartment. He rapped lightly on the door instead of pounding on it, which would’ve sent the wrong message to Wentzel, if he’s inside, plus bring unwanted attention from his neighbors.
Three more rapid knocks.
Gary retrieved a brown pouch from his overcoat. Had the door open within a few seconds. After first checking the inside of a coat closet, he crept along the short hallway toward the rear of the apartment. His gaze encompassed the living room as he moved to the window above the fire escape. He opened the window, signaled for Lucas to come up.
Lucas climbed the rusty ornamental iron steps, his shoes clanging noisily. You’d make a lousy burglar, dude. He shoved his large frame through the narrow window. Bumped his head hard enough to make him grunt.
Gary pressed a finger to his lips. “Sh!”
Lucas silently scolded himself over his clumsiness. Entered the kitchen.
Gary stood at the entrance to another hallway. Four doors. Three open.
The first one housed the hot water tank, heat and AC units. The second door on the left contained a small bathroom, the white porcelain so clean it gleamed under the overhead light. The third door, opposite of the bathroom, appeared to be Wentzel’s bedroom.
Gary crossed the threshold, eyes flicking all about, apprehensively.
Lucas, right behind him, went to the closet and jerked the door open. The clothes were hung in an orderly manner. Shoes arranged in a perfectly straight row. They were seriously surprised the rookie was such a neat freak.
The fourth door, and the end of the hallway, concerned them the most. It was closed.
Lucas withdrew his gun, folded his hands around it, and pointed it at the ceiling. He pressed his back against the wall. With a quick snap of his head he signaled Gary to open the door.
CHAPTER 54
Gary twisted the chrome knob enough to know the door wasn’t locked. He glanced at Lucas. Shouldered the door open, briefly keeping a tight grip on the knob. Withdrew his gun.
As a reflex action, both crouched and readied themselves to return gunfire if needed.
They walked to the center of the room, recognizing it’s an office not another bedroom. Lucas aimed his gun at the closet door. Gary approached, cautiously. He opened the door and stepped back. The closet was completely empty.
Holstering their weapons they set about the task of exploring, curious what was so special about the room the door needed to be closed.
“Closed but not locked. Interesting,” Lucas murmured.
A large utility shelf stood against the wall to the right of the door. One rectangular window took up most of the space on the center wall. Custom-made bifold shutters blocked out every ray of daylight. They opened the shutters. The landing for the fire escape stretched from the living room window to two feet beyond the window they stood behind. A folded lounge chair leaned against the short end of the railing.
Lucas closed the shutters on the off chance they were being watched.
On the left side of the room was a computer desk with a built-in hutch. A tall, green metal filing cabinet stood between the desk and the closet.
Gary noticed several unopened envelopes on top of the filing cabinet. Although wearing gloves, he got a pencil out of his coat, used the eraser to separate the small stack. Credit card statement. Utility bills. An assortment of flyers and ads addressed to “or Current Resident”. Not one piece of personalized mail in the form of letters or cards.
Moving from bottom to top, he slid the drawers open one after the other. Three were empty. The top one gripped his attention. Three snapshots of BJ Donovan. Two had been taken outdoors in a park-like setting. One inside of a bookstore. Each shot taken from a distance. Each with her wearing the blonde wig he secretly hated. He resisted disturbing the order they’d been placed in. Closed the drawer, reluctantly moved away.
“Look here.” Lucas spoke softly, still edgy over breaking into the guy’s apartment. He nodded at the desk, the only spot in the apartment not in pristine order.
Besides a computer, the rest of the desk held the usual array of office supplies. A very old Royal typewriter. Many used and unused sheets of white copy paper, scattered randomly. Four balled-up sheets of paper had been arranged to form a perfect square. Made no sense to the detectives. Several newspaper clippings of the alley murders, piled in random order.
Gary couldn’t stop thinking about the photographs. How, and why, did this guy know BJ Donovan? He recalled one photo was taken in a bookstore. Maybe he’s just a fan. Gary frowned. Why the outdoor photos? Seems to me he’s stalking... “Damn.”
Lucas picked up one of the balled-up papers, and smoothed it out. It was a copy of the anonymous letter Gary had received. He assumed the guy didn’t like the wording after printing it. The same message had been handwritten on the remaining crumpled sheets of paper, the lettering done in a childlike scrawl.
Gary got out his cell phone. Called BJ.
No answer.
“Lucas, you know a helluva lot about computers. Think you can get inside this one? I want to know if he sent any email to BJ Donovan.” He opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet. Lifted a couple of the photos high enough for Lucas to see them.
Lucas observed Gary’s painful expression more than the photos. “I can try. ‘Course if his email is password protected, I dunno. Mine’s not. Just click and go. I got nothing to hide.” He glimpsed at Gary.
Gary recollected BJ saying something similar about her two email accounts.
Lucas pulled the short swivel chair backward over a clear plastic floor mat. Sat and walked the chair forward. He clicked on the hard drive and monitor. Didn’t take long for him to learn a password was indeed needed to
access the email account. He wondered why, considering Jeff Wentzel lived alone, as far as they knew.
Lucas first typed words related to law enforcement. Cops. Robbers. Detect. Arrest. Lockup. Received the same message every time. Access denied. He thought about an old email account he used to have. The password required eight letters. He swiveled the chair in slow motion, observing everything. Saw Donovan’s novel on the utility shelf. Wondered how he missed such an important detail before. Next to it sat a very pretty ornate box. Missed that, too. A little too girlie for a guy to own? He wondered. Maybe it’s a gift. Maybe for Donovan?
His gaze landed on the book’s title. Lucas typed suitesue. The account opened. Emails, mostly spam, cascaded down the screen. A quick search through Sent Mail. Lucas counted thirty-seven addressed to Suite Sue. A random read showed most, if not all, were nothing more than silly flirty crap.
“Certainly explains how he knows her.” Gary said.
“Any ideas how he got her email address?”
“I think it’s on her website.”
“Okay. Makes sense. Now, any ideas why he calls her Suite Sue? And how the hell did he get close enough to her to become so, um, friendly? Some of these letters are downright filthy.”
“Hold on, I think I heard something.” Gary left the room.
Lucas clicked on the last email sent. While it loaded, he walked over to the shelf and picked up the box. Opened it. His jaw dropped.
“Shut it down,” Gary said in a loud whisper, rushing into the room. “Wentzel’s here. He’s in the hall talking to a neighbor. She probably saw me outside his door.”
Lucas put the box in the pocket of his overcoat. Walked fast to the computer. About to shut it down, the email he’d opened caught his attention.
Long Night Moon (Bad Mojo Book 1) Page 15
