Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (32 page)

Jude held open the front door of the Alzheimer’s center and let Kyle go in first. The blast of cold air felt great as the evening’s heavy, humid air seemed to push him indoors.

He went over to the check-in desk, where a twentysomething woman stood.

“May I help you?”

“I’m Sheriff Jude Prejean. I called and spoke with a Marla Monet, and she told me to ask for her when I arrived.”

“Yes, she’s expecting you. I’ll get her.”

Jude stole a glance at Kyle and wondered how many of the elderly patients here once looked as vibrant and lovely as she did.

A middle-aged brunette in a business suit and heels walked up to the desk. “I’m Marla Monet, the administrator here.”

Jude introduced himself and Kyle.

“You said it was imperative that you speak with Mrs. LaBelle. What’s this about?”

“She may have information crucial to a murder investigation,” he said. “I promise we won’t upset her. But we need to ask her a few questions.”

“Have you been around Alzheimer’s patients, Sheriff?”

“I have.”

“Then you know that Mrs. LaBelle may not be able to give you any reliable information. Her short-term memory is tentative on a good day.”

Jude nodded. “I understand. My questions have to do with someone she knew a few years back. I’m hoping we can jog her memory.”

“She’s one of our newer patients and still has moments of lucidity. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I just checked on her. She’s still awake. Come this way.”

Jude and Kyle walked down the hall, keeping step with Marla.

“I must insist that I be allowed to remain in the room when you question her,” Marla said.

Jude nodded. “That’s fine.”

Marla stopped at room 109. She knocked and then slowly opened the door.

“Clara, I brought the nice people we talked about earlier.”

Clara LaBelle sat in bed, dressed in her nightclothes, her head propped on a pillow. She made eye contact with Jude and instantly smiled. “There you are! Mother said you were coming to take me to the fair.”

“Clara, this is Sheriff Prejean. And Special Agent Duffy of the FBI. They need to ask you some questions.”

Jude and Kyle moved to the side of her bed.

“We’re friends of your daughter Jeanette,” Jude said.

Clara stared at him but didn’t say anything.

“We know your husband, Ken, and your daughter Bonnie.”

Her eyes widened. “Has Bonnie brought blueberries for my cobbler?”

“Ken, Jeanette, and Bonnie can hardly wait to have some of your cobbler.”

Clara cast a scolding glance his way. “Ken
hates
blueberries.”

“But Bonnie loves your cobbler. She said you could help us.”

The elderly woman seemed miles away and infatuated with the hem on her bedsheet. Then she suddenly seemed present again. “Who are you?”

“Clara,” Jude said
. “We’re looking for Jeanette’s boyfriend.”

“Jeanette quit. She went to the farmer’s market to get tomatoes.”

“We don’t need to see Jeanette. We need to see her boyfriend.”

“The redhead?”

“Yes. Yes. The redhead.”

“He fixed my toaster. And my waffle iron.” Clara smiled with her eyes. “He can fix anything, that one.”

“Clara.” Kyle gently took her hand. “What’s the redhead’s name?”

“Jeanette gave the ring back. She’s not going to marry him. Pity.”

“You sound disappointed,” Kyle said. “You like him.”

“Well, of course I like him. He spends enough time over here.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The young man with the red hair?”

“He’s not here. Jeanette gave the ring back. Bonnie’s picking blueberries. She’ll be home soon. I need to make my crust!”

Clara tried to get out of bed, and Marla gently restrained her. “Your crust is made, sweetie. It’s okay.”

“Clara, who did Jeanette give the ring to?”

Marla stood. “This seems to be upsetting her. I don’t think she—”

“Please.” Jude held up his palm. “Just a few more minutes. This is crucial.”

Clara locked gazes with him and lay back on her pillow. “What do
you
want? Jeanette doesn’t want to see you.”

“I promise not to stay long,” Jude said.

“She won’t take the ring back.”

“But
you
want her to marry me.”

“Her mind’s made up, Murray. You’re too sad. Go home.”

“Where’s home?”

Clara sighed and looked at Jude as if it were a trick question.
Come on, Clara. Give me something
.

“Jeanette’s grounded.” Clara folded her arms across her chest. “She needs to bring her grades up.”

“This is going nowhere,” Marla said. “I can’t let you upset her any further.”

“Please, we’re so close,” Kyle insisted. “We need to know where to find Murray.”

“Third and Audette.” Clara sat up straight. “I already mailed his Christmas card.”

Clara stared at Kyle for several moments, and then began babbling. “Who are you? Where’s Ken? Where’s my husband? He won’t eat the cobbler! I need to fry my shrimp. We’ll be late for the fireworks!”

Clara tried to get up, and Marla gently took her arm and stroked her hair. “Come on, sweetie. It’s time for bed. Sheriff, that’s all. She’s my responsibility. You’ve pushed her hard enough. She’s getting agitated.”

“We’re going,” Jude said. “Thanks. This was invaluable.”

Jude hurried down the hall, Kyle keeping stride.

“Let’s see what’s at Third and Audette in Lafayette,” he said. “And hope it will lead us to a redheaded guy named Murray.”

CHAPTER 34

Jude followed Kyle into the lobby of the Mabry Arms Apartments at Third and Audette in Lafayette. A huge bouquet of fresh flowers graced a glass table in the center of the lobby. Behind a rich wood counter was a well-groomed young man dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt and black tie.

Jude glanced around the room at the wood floor, Oriental rugs, and oil paintings. Quite a place. Definitely upscale.

“May I help you?”

Jude walked over to the counter, Kyle standing next to him, and read the young man’s name badge. “David, I’m Sheriff Jude Prejean of Saint Catherine Parish, and this is FBI Special Agent Kyle Duffy. We’re following up on a lead and need to talk to the manager.”

“I’m sorry, he’s gone. He’ll be back in the morning. Is there something I can do to help you?”

Jude leaned on the counter. “Do you have a male resident with the first name Murray—thirty to thirty-five, red hair?”

“I don’t know anyone who fits that description,” David said. “But I just work nights. Let me call Tim Fraser. He’s the owner and manager. He knows all the residents. Would you excuse me?”

“Sure.” Jude held David’s gaze. “Please tell your manager this is a matter of utmost importance, and it can’t wait.”

“I will.”

Jude turned to Kyle. “I hope this pans out. I think we’re on to something, and I don’t want to let it go. I’ll check with Aimee. Maybe her team has found something.” Jude keyed in the speed dial for Aimee and got an answer on the first ring.

“Hello, Sheriff.”

“How’s it coming?” he said.

“We’ve located the director of human resources at Aubry Computer Systems. We’re at her home now. She said they did have a Murray who fits the description. He worked as a computer systems analyst in the Lafayette branch, but Murray was a nickname. She’s trying to remember his last name so she can go into the office and pull up his personnel file. She doesn’t recall ever seeing Jeanette LaBelle with him though.”

“I’m not sure that means anything,” Jude said. “Everyone who knew Jeanette LaBelle said she kept her personal life to herself.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”

“I’ll do the same.”

Jude disconnected the call and told Kyle what Aimee had said.

“We’re closing in on him,” Jude said. “I can feel it.”

“Me, too.”

Jude wandered around the lobby, aware of the expensive rugs under his feet and looking at the oil paintings of famous New Orleans landmarks. He could smell the flowers on the glass table—and burnt coffee coming from the almost-empty pot still on the burner.

“This is an upscale apartment complex,” Kyle said. “If Murray lived here, he probably made a good salary.”

Jude glanced at his watch just as David came back to the front desk. “I reached Tim. He’s coming right over. He just has to walk across the courtyard.”

“Thanks.”

Jude paced in front of an oil painting of the French Quarter. He used to feel proud that life in Les Barbes was so much simpler and safer than the Big Easy. Not this week.

A couple minutes later, the front door opened, and a man who appeared to be in his fifties came into the lobby and walked over to them, his hand extended.

“Tim Fraser. I’m manager here. David tells me you’re looking for a resident.”

“That’s right.” Jude shook his hand. “I’m Sheriff Prejean of Saint Catherine Parish, and this is FBI Special Agent Duffy. All we know is his first name: Murray. Thirty to thirty-five, red hair.”

“Sounds like Murray Hamelin. He lived here for several years. What’s this about?”

“Do you know where he is now?”

Tim shook his head. “His circumstances were tragic.”

“Tell us,” Kyle said.

“He was some sort of computer geek at Aubry. He was dating a knockout. Joyce, Jean, Jenna—something like that. They seemed real happy together. She was over here all the time, until Murray’s dad got laid off out at the sugar refinery and the bank foreclosed on his parents’ home. I made an exception to the rule and let Murray’s parents move in with him, even though he only had a one-bedroom. His girlfriend stopped coming over. I don’t think I ever saw Murray smile after that. His parents lived here six, seven months. Murray’s mother died of a heart attack. Shortly after that his father committed suicide.”

“That’s got to be him,” Kyle said. “Can you describe the girlfriend?”

“Yes, she was about five seven. Brown hair and eyes. Beautiful smile. A figure that would stop a clock.”

“Have you seen the pictures of Jeanette Stein in the news?” Kyle said.

Tim nodded. “Sure. Who hasn’t?”

“Does she bear any resemblance to Murray’s girlfriend?”

Tim’s face lit up. “Now that you mention it, she sure does. Her hair was a lot longer when Murray was dating her. But that could be her.”

“Was her name Jeanette?”

Tim shrugged. “Maybe. I honestly don’t remember.”

“Do you have any idea where Murray might have gone?” Jude said.

“No. He stopped paying rent. I gave him all the grace I could, but eventually I presented him with an eviction notice. He left all his stuff behind—furniture, clothes, everything—and just disappeared.”

Jude put his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Thanks. You have no idea how important this is.”

Jude hit the speed dial, and Aimee answered on the first ring. “Murray’s last name is Hamelin. He sounds like our guy.”

“Great,” Aimee said. “Maybe the personnel director can tell us his given name. We’ll head over to Aubry with her. Are you going back in?”

“Yes, we’re leaving Lafayette right now. Call me when you have something.”

Tim looked from Jude to Kyle and back to Jude. “Could someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“We really can’t,” Jude said. “But if we’re right, you’ll be hearing about it in the news.”

Jude flipped the light switch and walked into his office, Kyle on his heels. When was the last time he had experienced an adrenaline rush like this? His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and put it to his ear.

“What have you got, Aimee?”

“Murray’s given name is Robert Murdock Hamelin Jr. That’s the name on his driver’s license and Social Security card and in his personnel records.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He was a computer systems analyst. Hired by Aubry right after grad school. He was an employee in good standing until family issues began to affect his work performance. He was fired three years ago.”

“Anything that connects him to Jeanette LaBelle?” Jude said.

“Other than he worked here at the same time she did—nothing. Sorry.”

“Everything points to this guy. And Jeanette LaBelle’s mother ID’d him. Murray gave Jeanette an engagement ring. She either refused it or gave it back.”

“Sheriff, just before you called, Deputy Castille remembered questioning a Murray Hamelin at Haven House—after Flynn Gillis was murdered. He fits the description.”

“Now we’re cookin’. Get a warrant to search his room and his vehicle. And pick him up for questioning. Make sure Police Chief Norman is apprised of these latest developments.”

“I will.”

Jude put his phone on his belt clip and told Kyle what Aimee had said.

“Do you have a contact at Haven House?” Kyle said. “If Murray gets even a hint that we’re on to him, he might bolt.”

“Good point. I’ll call Father Vince.” He keyed in the number and put it on speakerphone.

“Haven House, Father Vince speaking.”

“Father, it’s Sheriff Prejean.”

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“My deputies are on their way with a warrant to search Murray Hamelin’s room and vehicle. I need your help to keep him there so we can question him.”

“In Flynn Gillis’s murder?”

“I can’t get into it just yet, other than to say it’s serious. Could you try to keep him there for a few minutes? Maybe distract him so he doesn’t run?”

“I could, if he were here. He’s been gone all day. Can’t you tell me what this is about?”

“Do you know what his schedule was?”

“Murray took the day off. Said he had some personal business to take care of. And he had plans to take Adele Woodmore to Scoops this afternoon at three thirty.”

“Father, if he comes back before my deputies arrive, I need you to act completely natural.”

“I can’t believe Murray’s done anything wrong. He’s the
example
around here. The others look up to him.”

“Please just cooperate with my deputies when they arrive with the warrant.”

“All right, Sheriff. I’m eager to get to the bottom of this.”

Jude disconnected the call, his mind reeling. “Kyle, why would a serial killer take an elderly woman out for ice cream? I need to call her and give her a heads-up.”

“Wait,” Kyle said. “What if he’s still with her? If she reacts and he picks up on it, we could lose him. She could end up his next victim.”

Jude’s mind raced with the implications. “I have an idea.”

He began scrolling his cell phone directory. “I know someone who could call her without alarming her.” He found the number and entered it. “Let’s hope I get a person and not an answering machine.” The phone rang three times. “Come on, pick up …”

“Hello?”

“Zoe, it’s Jude. Just listen, this isn’t a personal call. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“We’re trying to locate Murray Hamelin from Haven House. He wrote on his schedule that he was going to take Adele Woodmore to Scoops this afternoon. Do you know anything about that?”

“No.” Zoe sighed. “She wouldn’t have mentioned it to me because she knows Pierce doesn’t approve of Murray. He doesn’t trust any of the guys from Haven House.”

“Okay, listen carefully. Here’s what I need you to do …”

Adele finished the last of her raspberry tea and noticed that Murray had hardly touched his refill.

“
Are you sure I can’t get you a sandwich or a cookie or something?”

He seemed miles away, and her voice appeared to startle him. “Uh—no thanks. I probably should get going.”

“Murray, if it would make you feel better, I’ll let you read the report Danny brought by—except the part about Noah. I think I should keep that confidential.”

“So it’s okay for you to sneak around behind his back and get information he didn’t choose to tell you—but it’s not okay for me to know what it says?”

Adele winced at Murray’s caustic tone. Was this the side of his personality he had warned her about? “I don’t obtain this information to share, Murray. I already explained that I’ve done it for twenty years. As a result, with few exceptions, I’ve had people I can trust in my employ.”

“Just an observation from a friend: I don’t think you should trust Noah.”

“There was nothing in the report that led me to believe he couldn’t be trusted.”

“Your friend Danny doesn’t live with him. I do. I’m pretty sure he killed Flynn Gillis. I just can’t prove it.”