Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (16 page)

Zoe stood next to the table by the window at the eatery, watching Hebert win his seventh consecutive game of checkers.

Tex groaned and sat back in his chair, his thumbs hooked on his red suspenders. “I don’t know how you do it, Hebert ol’ buddy, but I sure can’t beat you. Let Father Sam give it a try.”

“Dat’s all you got?” A grin tugged at the corners of Hebert’s mouth. He began resetting the checkers. “Come on, Père Sam. I not goin’ to
let
you win. You got to earn it.”

Grace stuffed a piece of apple into her mouth, wiggling and giggling in her booster chair.

Savannah came over to the table and started pouring coffee refills.

“I really wish you’d take some time off.” Zoe gently tugged her ponytail. “I can schedule one of the other girls to take your shift for a few days.”

Savannah shook her head. “It’s better if I stay busy. If I have time to think about what happened to Aunt Nicole, I’ll just get depressed.”

“I tink you already dere,” Hebert said, not quite under his breath.

“I’m fine. It’ll be much easier if I can stay focused on my job.” Savannah put two tiny tubs of creamer next to Tex’s cup. “It’s not affecting my job performance.”

“I know,” Zoe said. “I’m just concerned for you. You need to give yourself space to grieve.”

“I’d like to have the day of the funeral off. But other than that, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me work. I’ll do my grieving in private.”

Zoe slipped her arm around Savannah’s waist. “Whatever you need, sweetie. You just have to be honest with me.”

Pierce came out of the kitchen, wearing his chef’s hat and apron—and a scowl.

“What’s wrong?” Zoe said.

“The Bathtub Killer struck again—last night. Another woman, but she wasn’t a CEO. She was the wife of a high-powered defense lawyer. And a stay-at-home mom.”

Zoe’s heart sank.

“Dat’s a disgrace.” Hebert looked up from the checkerboard. “A
m
è
re?”

“Of eight-month-old twin boys,” Pierce said. “I think we all have to take a second look at what’s going on. I’m not convinced this is totally related to the layoffs and foreclosures.”

Tex took a red kerchief and wiped his bald head. “It’s a wonder the creep didn’t kill those babies.”

“Dis ting makes me
moitié fou.”
Hebert shook his head.

“It makes us all half crazy,” Father Sam said. “And now we have the uncertainty of just who this killer’s targeting. I don’t see how this latest victim ties in with the others. And it makes me wonder if that man from Haven House was murdered by the same killer.”

“The MO was different.” Tex took a sip of coffee. “But I guess it’s different in this case too.”

“Not really,” Pierce said. “The victim was drugged and drowned. And the number four was spray painted on the bathroom wall. None of those variables was present when the Haven House guy was killed. Listen, I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. I just thought you’d want to know the latest, in case you hadn’t heard.”

Pierce went back in the kitchen, and no one said anything for half a minute.

Finally Grace started bouncing up and down in her booster chair. “It’s
meeeee,
” she said, obviously trying to engage the guys in their daily ritual.

“Me?” Tex looked at Hebert and shrugged. “Do we know anyone named Me?”

“Are you Me Broussard?” Father Sam asked.

“No, I
Grace
Brew-sar!” She pointed to herself, giggling all the while.

“
You’re
Grace Broussard?” Hebert tapped her on the nose. “Den we
do
know you.”

Zoe relished the little game and drew comfort from its predictability and innocence. Five murders in less than a week was enough to turn her stomach. And if the Bathtub Killer took out the mother of two babies, was anyone safe?

CHAPTER 17

Jude walked in his office and closed the door, trying not to think too hard about the eight-month-old Stein twins left alone and crying while their mother was drowned in the bathtub. He doubted his deputies would feel indifferent or sarcastic toward
this
victim.

Jude went over to the window, unwrapped a stick of gum, and stuffed it into his mouth. The pillars of the stately Saint Catherine Parish Courthouse reflected the sunlight and looked as if someone had flipped a switch and turned them on. People hurried up or down the front steps, and one school-age boy was sliding down the railing. On the corner, Andre-the-street-vendor sold andouille corn dogs to tourists dressed in matching T-shirts.

The Bathtub Killer was still out there somewhere. Had he targeted his next victim? Why had he chosen Jeanette Stein? Was there a grievance with the husband? Was her murder a payback? If so, how was it connected to the other victims? What was the common thread?

The intercom beeped and startled him.

“Yes.”

“Sheriff, something’s come up.” Aimee’s voice filled the room. “When you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about it.”

“I’m free now. I’m just trying to catch my breath. This latest victim threw me for a loop.”

“I know what you mean. It’s not that Jeanette Stein’s life was more valuable than anyone else’s. There’s just something so sad about robbing two little babies of their mother.”

Jude watched a young couple pushing a double pram down the sidewalk. “Do we know when her husband is coming in for questioning?”

“Gil said one thirty. You want to sit in on it?”

“Absolutely. Stein’s a powerful guy—and vocal. We want to make sure he knows we’re
on top
of this.” Jude glanced at his watch. “So what’s come up?”

“Let me come to your office. I’ll be right there.”

Jude went over to his desk and sat. He picked up the framed picture of Colette and their three grown kids. He couldn’t imagine being in Barry Stein’s shoes. How would he have dealt with losing his wife and raising their kids on his own?

There was a knock at the door and Aimee came inside, her tan uniform looking crisp and pressed, her bleached hair short and sassy.

“You want the door closed?” she said.

“Not unless you do. What’s up?”

Aimee left the door open and sat in the chair next to his desk. “A few days ago, a young woman called here and reported that she had found a thousand dollars—ten one-hundred-dollar bills tucked inside a note card left in her mailbox. The note was handwritten and unsigned and merely said, ‘This belongs to you.’ She wanted to know if it was legal to keep it.”

“And she had no idea who it was from or why he or she would say it belongs to her?”

“No. She’d been laid off from the sugar refinery and wondered if someone felt sorry for her. But before she spent it, she wanted us to tell her it was all right to keep it. Of course, not knowing anything more than what she told us, we couldn’t tell her not to spend it.”

“So what’s your point?”

“It happened again just a few minutes ago. We got a call from a man who’s been out of work since he was laid off last year from Aubry Computer Systems. This morning he found a note in his mailbox with ten one hundred dollar bills. The same thing was written in his note.”

“‘This belongs to you’?” Jude said.

“Yes. But he’s afraid to spend it because if it turns out to be a mistake and someone wants it back, he could never repay it.”

“Does he have any idea how the money could be his?”

“Not really. He wondered if someone at Aubry felt guilty that he got laid off and was trying to compensate him. Deputy Doucet took the call and said it sounded to him like the guy was just trying to justify keeping it.”

“Does he still have the note?”

“We don’t know. Either he got cut off, or he hung up. He hasn’t called back. But I’m wondering if a pattern is emerging. What if the killer is distributing the money he’s stealing from his victims and giving it back to the people who’ve been hurt in the layoffs?”

“Robin Hood?” Jude raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new twist.”

“I doubt most recipients of the thousand dollars would come forward and question the source, especially if they’re hurting for money. They’d just keep quiet and spend it. But if we knew who they were, we might be able to put the pieces together and figure out who the killer is.”

Jude sat back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “Check the phone records and find out who made the calls. Let’s question those folks and see if we can shed some light on this.”

“We’re already on it.”

“Good.” Jude pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “If our Bathtub Killer is targeting CEOs who are responsible for the layoffs and stealing their money to give back to people who got hurt, what’s the connection to Jeanette Stein—a stay-at-home mom married to a successful defense lawyer?”

Aimee shrugged. “It’s baffling.”

“I want you to find out everything you can about her. She’s the one victim that doesn’t seem to fit, and even less so with this new development.”

Vanessa Langley looked at the computer screen and spoke into the phone. “All right, Mrs. Phelps. Your reservation is canceled.”

“I hear annoyance in your voice,” Mrs. Phelps said. “Surely you understand why we don’t want to come there for vacation right now?”

“Yes, ma’am. And I’m not annoyed. I’m sad. The murders are disconcerting to all of us here on a number of levels.”

“I think it’s absurd you won’t refund my money.”

“I’m sorry. Our refund policy is clearly stated on our website. You can reschedule for up to a year and won’t pay more, even if the rate goes up. And because of the unique circumstances, we’ll even give you two free dinners at Zoe B’s, one of our authentic Cajun eateries. We want your business. And look forward to booking you later on.”

“You’ll be hearing from me again. Good-bye.”

Vanessa hung up the phone on her kitchen desk and rubbed the back of her neck. How many more cancellations would they be getting now that the news was out that a stay-at-home mom had been added to the list of victims? At least when it was CEOs, there was a pseudo sense of safety for everyone else. But if he could kill a mother with two babies in the next room, was anyone safe?

She heard a man clear his throat and turned her swivel chair around. How long had Noah been standing behind her?

He held up a glass. “Didn’t mean to bother you. I just came in to get a drink o’ water and see if there’s somethin’ in particular you want me to do this afternoon.”

“Have you been out to the caretaker house today?”

Noah nodded as he downed the glass of water. “It’s nearly done. They have some finish work to do, but they’re talkin’ like it’ll be ready in a week or so.” He seemed to study her. “Vanessa, I’ll understand if you and Ethan want me to hold off movin’ in until after things calm down. I overheard you on the phone just now. I know you’re gettin’ cancellations. And that it’s been unpleasant for you, havin’ to deal with negative publicity.”

Noah gave her an opening. Why couldn’t she just tell him?

“You’re right about the cancellations,” she said. “And it
has
been unpleasant. But it’s not your fault. I know you had nothing to do with Flynn Gillis’s murder.”

“I believe
you
know. How does Ethan feel ’bout it?”

“He knows too. But he’s methodical and wants us to take things a step at a time.”

“In other words, he wants to see what the investigation proves?”

“Ethan just likes to see everything through to the end.” Vanessa felt her cheeks warm. Could she get the words out without crying? It was so unfair of Ethan to ask her to do this. “Noah—”

He held up his palm. “I can see that my bein’ here is not in the best interest of Langley Manor. I think I should leave—at least until the sheriff is convinced I didn’t kill Flynn.”

Vanessa struggled to find her voice. Had Noah figured out that Ethan had asked her to get his keys back?

“We
know
you’re innocent, Noah.”

“Doesn’t sound like Ethan’s so sure.”

“He would just like the facts to agree with us. So we could reassure guests.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He swatted the air as if he were dismissing the implications.

His fallen countenance belied his comment.

“I’m absolutely confident that everything will work out at the right time.” She wasn’t. Why did she tell him that?

Noah buried his hands in the pockets of his cutoffs. “Thing is, my time’s up at Haven House. Father Vince has already let me stay longer than the two-year policy rule because I was waitin’ to move into the caretaker house. If that’s not happenin’, I need to find somewhere else to live. And I need to find other work.”

“Noah, we’ve had eight cancellations in the past two days. I hope it’s just temporary. But if our business continues to be impacted this way, I don’t know what we’re going to do. We have some cash set aside for emergencies, but it’s not going to last long at this rate. If we have to go to Ethan’s dad and uncles to ask for more money, they may ask us to cut operating expenses.”

Noah raised his eyebrows. “Like forget about the on-site caretaker?”

“It certainly wouldn’t be
our
choice. But this is the first time since we opened that we’ve had to deal with multiple vacancies, and we’re not sure what it will mean to the future of the business. It’s not just Flynn’s murder. It’s the other four too. People are afraid to come to Les Barbes right now. Five murders in less than a week. Can you blame them?”

“O’ course I don’t.”

Vanessa got up and took his hand, a tear trickling down her cheek. “It’ll all work out. I just don’t know how long it will take. You waited two years for this position. I hate that it’s come to this.”

“Me, too.” Noah pulled the key ring out of his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it for a moment. “Feels a little like givin’ up a part o’ myself. I’ve grown fond o’ Langley Manor. So much of me’s invested in this place—where my people were, where my roots are.”

“That’s exactly right.” Vanessa gripped his wrist. “That’s why it’s going to work out. It has to. I know you’re innocent. We’re going to work through this.”

“Only if Ethan agrees with you. The sheriff’s got his hands full with the bathtub murders. When’s he goin’ to find time and manpower to investigate Flynn’s death? The truth is nobody really cares that Flynn’s dead. He’s bein’ put in the church’s cemetery today, but no one knows if he had family or if Flynn Gillis was his real name. Murray offered to go with Father Vince when he reads the burial prayers, but he didn’t like Flynn either.”

“That’s really sad,” Vanessa said. “I would hate to die without anyone coming forward to say a kind word about me.”

“Don’t go feelin’ sorry for Flynn. He brought it on hisself.” Noah’s voice was suddenly cold, his expression stony. “He didn’t even
try
to make friends and went outta his way to irritate people.”

“He didn’t deserve to be murdered, Noah.”

“I’m not sayin’ he did.” Noah’s eyes narrowed. “But he pushed people too far and had to know that eventually someone would push back.”

“Is that what you think happened?”

Noah shrugged. “Can’t say fuh shore. But regardless, Flynn’s laughin’ his head off that he’s still keepin’ things stirred up, even from the grave.”

Vanessa was unaccustomed to the bitterness she heard in Noah’s tone and could only imagine how much he was hurting.

“You’re a big man to step up and make the hard choice here. But it’s only until the sheriff sorts things out and business is thriving again. Then you can come back and pick up where you left off.”

Noah put the key ring in her hand, avoiding eye contact. “We’ll see.”