Quarter to Midnight, page 18
The first text, which Gabe figured was a reaction to the Jeep following Xavier, said: WTF!
A minute later, the next text was not much wordier. No.
Molly scowled when he passed it on. “What is taking Antoine so damn long?”
Gabe shrugged. “How long does it usually take him to recover a wiped hard drive?”
“A few days maybe?”
“It’s only been a day.”
“Why are you so logical right now?” she asked with a frown.
He smiled at her. “Because you’re on the job.”
She laughed. “Bullshit.”
“Maybe a little,” he allowed. “But only a little. You saw the Jeep, and you chased away the dog poisoner. You make me a little calmer.”
Her expression softened, her gaze still locked on the road in front of them. “That’s nice, Gabe. Thank you.”
He considered his next words, then figured why the hell not. “You used to calm me whenever you’d come to the Choux.”
She startled at that. “I did?”
“You did. I’d be having a bad day, and then I’d see you having lunch with your friends or even all alone. I’d bring your meal out and after that my day would go better.”
She chanced a quick glance at him, eyes wide. “I . . . I didn’t think you even knew I was there.”
He huffed a quiet chuckle. “Oh, I knew. Do you think I take meals out to everyone?”
“I guess I didn’t notice.”
“Patty did. Teased me unmercifully.”
Her lips quirked up. “I guess I should say that I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
“Neither am I.” And then he relaxed even more because she laid her hand on the console, palm up. He slid their hands together, twining his fingers through hers.
“So why didn’t you ask me out?”
“Scared, I guess. Plus, busy. And I got burned by women the last time or two. Like I said before, they think it’s romantic to date a chef who’s been on TV. But the reality is a lot of late nights and missed dates.”
“Kind of like a cop-turned-PI?”
He wondered if she dated much but held the question for later. But he would ask if she was single. And if she was, he was taking this as fate and asking her out. They just had to get back to New Orleans in one piece first. “What’s your plan on the Jeep?”
“I was going to create a disturbance so that Willa Mae could take our exit but the BMW couldn’t. With our newest caravan member, I’m not going to be able to do that without endangering traffic. I’m going to need Burke’s help.”
As if on cue, Molly’s burner rang, Burke’s number on the caller ID. Gabe put it on speaker.
“What did you find?” Molly asked.
“You’re not going to believe this. The owner of the Jeep is Cornell Eckert. He’s a hit man. I recognize the name from when I was on the force. Nobody could ever get anything to stick on him. Guy was like Teflon. Word on the street was that he had friends in high places.”
“Within the NOPD, you mean,” Molly clarified.
“Unfortunately, yes. He disappeared shortly before I quit, and at the time nobody knew where he’d gone. And now his car shows up following behind a twenty-two-year-old who someone failed to kill last night. Surprise, surprise.”
“Fucking hell,” Molly muttered. “That changes my plan a little. If the Paul Lott impersonator was planning to bring Xavier back to New Orleans, it won’t hurt to allow him to follow Xavier and the minivan into the city a little ways. I’d like you to take point on the minivan. Coordinate with Xavier and his entourage. Get behind them when they get into the city and block the SUV from following them. I’ll make sure that Mr. Eckert the hit man doesn’t exit the interstate with them.”
Gabe stared at her. “How? Ramming power?”
Her grin was small and quick. “No. I’m not going to endanger the rest of the people on the highway. But he’ll probably get mad at us, so I’ll ask you to duck down when we get close to that point.” His poor opinion of that plan must have shown on his face, because she added, “If he’s following Xavier, he might have orders to take care of you, too.”
A chill raced down Gabe’s back, because while he had thought of that, he hadn’t wanted to. “I hate that footwell.”
“I know you do,” she said soothingly. “I’d hate it, too, if our positions were reversed. But it’ll be easier for me if I don’t have to worry about you getting shot.”
“Eckert’s a good shot, too,” Burke said. “Not sniper-level good, but it’s said that he doesn’t miss what he’s aiming at. He’s careful and leaves no trace. Or at least no trace that can’t be wiped away if you know the right people.”
“I’m beginning to hate those people,” Gabe snarled.
“I’m already there,” Burke said. “I’m going to request backup. I’ve got a call in to André Holmes. That’s Antoine’s brother, Gabe. And you’ll be driving into his jurisdiction. He’s the cop who made sure the right person from the sheriff’s department showed up at your father’s house last night. I’ll let you know if he’s in. Oh, he’s calling now. I’ll call you back.”
Molly was tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Can you get Xavier on the phone? He and his friends need to know to watch out for the Jeep.”
Gabe complied, grateful for something concrete to do. “Xavier, it’s Gabe,” he said when the young man picked up. “Molly wants to talk to you. Put it on speaker.”
“What’s wrong?” Xavier asked.
Molly told him about the Jeep, being straight with them that the driver was a hit man. Cicely Morrow made an anguished sound. “Try not to worry, ma’am,” Molly told Cicely. “We’re pulling together a plan. For now, it’s best if Xavier isn’t visible.”
“I’m getting on the floor.” Xavier sounded even more shaken, poor guy. “Mama, you, too.”
“No, that would look even stranger.” Cicely’s voice firmed. “Let him try.”
“Mama!” Xavier hissed. “What the hell?”
“Willa Mae had two,” was all she said.
“Fucking hell,” Xavier muttered.
“Two of what?” Gabe asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Willa Mae called cheerfully. “But we’re good.”
“Fucking hell,” Molly muttered. “Do you guys all have weapons?”
“Duh,” Carlos said, then yelped. “Don’t hit me, X. That hurt.”
“It was supposed to.”
“They aren’t cops!”
“We don’t know who they are, asswipe,” Carlos’s brother said.
Molly shook her head. “Just . . . keep them out of sight. If you get stopped by a cop, and he finds weapons, I can’t help you.”
“I’m not foolish,” Cicely said gravely. “But neither will I allow someone to threaten my son’s life.”
Molly sighed. “Fair enough. Miss Willa Mae, how well do you know New Orleans?”
“I worked in the Quarter when I was in school. Hasn’t changed all that much, I don’t expect.”
“Probably not,” Gabe agreed. “You might get a call from a guy named Burke. You can trust him, Xavier. He was also a friend of my father.”
“His old partner?”
Gabe hid a flinch. If his dad had told Xavier about Burke, then they’d been closer than he’d thought. That stung and made him wonder what other secrets his father had kept. “Yeah, he’s the one. Molly works with him. He’s going to find a way to separate you from the white SUV.”
“Okay,” Xavier said. “I wish you’d told me about Burke when you first called. I wouldn’t have been freaking out over Miss Sutton’s Wikipedia page.”
Molly wasn’t able to hide her flinch, not at all. “I have a Wikipedia page?”
“Yes, ma’am, you do,” Xavier said respectfully. “Just the part about what happened in North Carolina. It says that you’re now a PI, but it doesn’t say who you work for. I have to say, though, if Burke Broussard trusts you, then it really must have been self-defense.”
“Okay,” Molly said. She seemed rattled, and Gabe hated to see it. “Well, thank you, Xavier. And Miss Cicely, I totally get defending your family, but it’s better if you can avoid the situation. Take it from me.”
“I understand,” Cicely said, so quietly that her reply was almost inaudible.
“We’ll be in touch,” Molly promised.
“Take care, y’all, and be careful,” Gabe said, then hit end. He looked at Molly, who appeared to be miserable. “You didn’t know about your internet presence?”
“I knew that there were stories. Newspaper articles and all that. But . . . dammit. It shouldn’t make a difference that there’s a Wiki page for me.” Her lips trembled and she pursed them. “But it does.”
“You can get it taken down.”
“And I will. But another will pop up in its place. It really doesn’t end. That’s why we have to make it so that Cicely Morrow doesn’t have to shoot anyone to keep her son alive.”
This time Gabe made the move, taking her hand and holding it tightly. She squeezed his hand as she drove with her free one clutching the wheel in a white-knuckled grip.
He didn’t let go when her burner rang again.
“I talked to André,” Burke said as soon as Gabe hit accept. “As soon as I told him that someone was driving Paul Lott’s SUV, he got really interested. Turns out there’s a reason why I haven’t been able to reach Lott’s assistant. She’s been at NOPD, getting questioned.”
“For?” Molly asked, although Gabe figured they both already knew the answer.
Gabe was so tired. “Lott’s dead, isn’t he?” He should probably feel bad about that, but he was too numb to feel much of anything except total exhaustion.
“Beaten up and shot in the head in his own house, probably last night. Place was ransacked and his laptop and wallet were taken. Cops were working it as a burglary gone wrong. Needless to say, André was very interested in providing backup to make sure that Xavier gets here safely. I didn’t even have to tell him why Xavier, his mother, and their friends were coming to see us, but I imagine he’ll want to know.”
“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Molly said, sounding as tired as Gabe felt. “This is not good, Burke. I’m grateful for André’s help, but I do not want to get too beholden to NOPD or give them a reason to get their claws into our operation.”
“I agree completely, but I trust André. This means that they’ll pull the Lott imposter over once you separate the green Jeep. He’s sending a cop he trusts to follow the Jeep. All you have to do is shepherd everyone to the exit, make sure that the minivan and the SUV veer off, and keep the Jeep from following them.”
Molly nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’ll call you back when I have more details. You holding up okay, Gabe?”
“Yep. Molly has it under control. I’m just assisting with the phone.”
Burke chuckled. “Let’s keep it that way. No playing the hero.”
Gabe wasn’t promising anything. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Molly shot him a knowing glance before returning her gaze to the road. “You planning something, Gabe?”
“Only if I have to. I’m not bad with a handgun. Like I said, I went to the target range with my dad a lot.”
She was quiet for a long moment, then said softly, “There’s a pistol in a lockbox in the console. Combo is four, three and two together, then one. It’s a Glock, unloaded. Full magazine is in the glove box. Better be ready in case you have to defend yourself. But unless everything goes to shit and someone takes me out, you let me lead. Okay?”
He did not like the thought of anyone taking her out. “Okay.”
She frowned. “Promise me.”
He hesitated. “I promise.” To keep you safe if we come to that point.
10
Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana
TUESDAY, JULY 26, 2:15 P.M.
Excuse me, sir.” Ashley stood in the doorway to Lamont’s office, her expression uncertain.
Because Joelle was sitting in one of his visitor chairs, having finally roused herself from her stupor and charged past Ashley’s desk and into his office to demand why he’d sprayed her perfume all over the bed in his study at home. His wife hadn’t bought his excuse of wanting the room to smell like her.
Apparently, she really had been suspecting that he was having an affair with Ashley. At least Ashley had gone home to shower. She now smelled like her own perfume, lighter and less cloying than Joelle’s.
Which Joelle knew because she’d sniffed Ashley on her way in. Because of course she had.
“What is it, Ashley?” he asked, grateful for the interruption.
“You’ve got a call on line one. I tried to let you know, but the intercom is turned off.”
He glanced at the intercom on his desk. Sure enough, it was turned off and Joelle’s expression had become smug. Bitch. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I must have knocked it by mistake. Did you get a name?”
“No, sir. The man wouldn’t give one, but he said it was urgent. Something about the cold case you’ve been working.”
He managed to control his frown. The only cold case he was currently working was his own. And as soon as Cornell Eckert killed Xavier Morrow, that case could close. Of course, there was still the question of why Paul Lott was driving from Houston to New Orleans, but the lawyer hadn’t returned his call yet.
Lott wouldn’t be protecting Xavier. Unless he’s double-crossed us.
“Tell him to give me a minute to conclude this meeting with my wife.”
Ashley closed the door and Joelle turned on him. “You are not dismissing me.”
He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, because the bitch was giving him a headache, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d gotten under his skin. “This is my place of business, Joelle. I’m happy to continue this conversation at home later, but now I have to do my job.” He rose, walked around his desk, and yanked her to her feet. “You have to go.”
She opened her mouth to argue, based on the set of her mouth, but he leaned in and whispered, “Don’t make me call a guard to escort you out. It demeans us both. And it’ll be on the front page of the society section before you’re out the door.”
That got her attention. Joelle hated the thought of being ridiculed by society. Funny, because those same people would have been hiring her to serve their guests at parties wearing a French maid costume before he’d married her.
She twisted out of his grip because he allowed it. “I’ll see you at home.” A sly smirk tilted her lips. “And I’ll show you the footage.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “The what?”
She just smiled wider. He used to like that smile. Now it reminded him of a viper. “Didn’t I tell you? I had security cameras installed in that little room off your study. I imagine my attorney will find it most illuminating.”
He gritted his teeth. “What do you want, Joelle?”
Her smile disappeared. “I want you to break up with that whore.”
Oh, you are so going to die. And I’m going to make it hurt. A lot. Divorce was way too good for her. That he had to wait until after he was elected to deal with her made him even angrier. “As you wish.”
She laughed. “See? Was that so hard? I want her fired, too.”
Bitch, bitch, bitch. “That may be harder to do.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Find a way, Monty.”
She knew he hated to be called that. He forced his clenched fist to loosen. “Yes, dear.”
With a flourish, she was out of the room, closing the door behind her. He took a moment to wonder what she was saying to Ashley. Then realized that there wasn’t anything he could do to help Ashley now. He’d find a nice place for her to work in one of the other offices and he’d hire himself a new secretary. A pretty one.
At least he wouldn’t have to kill this mistress to keep the secret from this wife.
Pushing the whole clusterfuck from his mind, he sat behind his desk and jabbed the button for line one, picking up the receiver. No way would this call go on speaker. “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
Jackass. “I’ll call you right back.” He switched to his personal cell phone and, walking to the window, he dialed, rewinding the previous evening in his mind. He realized that he never did find out who Jackass’s mole was at Le Petit Choux. “Well? Who is it?” he asked as soon as the call had connected.
“Who is which?” Jackass asked warily.
For the love of . . . “Last night. At Le Petit Choux. You texted me that your mole had seen me. You were also supposed to find out where that PI works, the one who was shadowing Gabe Hebert and his cousin.”
“Oh, that. The PI works for Burke Broussard.”
Well, fuckety fuck. He knew that name. That was the guy who’d nearly turned NOPD upside down with his accusations of wrongdoing a few years back. Broussard would have been right, of course, but luckily, he’d listened to reason—a.k.a. threats—and quit. I knew that asshole would come back to bite us in the ass someday.
Looked like someday was now. “Gabriel Hebert hired Burke Broussard?”
“His daddy was one of Broussard’s old partners.”
“Oh, right.” He’d forgotten about that. “Makes sense, then.”
“It seems that Rocky’s kid suspects. Are we ready to kill him now?” Jackass’s tone was filled with condescension and I-told-you-so. Bastard.
Lamont would deal with him later. Right now, they needed to stop Gabe Hebert from digging—and more importantly, they needed to find out what got him suspicious. There might be a few loose threads that they hadn’t snipped, God forbid. “I suppose we should. Proposals?”
“You know he’s gonna be harder to kill now.”
