Mercy (35 page)

Daddy hadn’t heard the conversation. He also was thinking about Catherine’s generosity and thinking that Ellie was smiling now because her niece had done such a nice thing for her family. She’d always worried about the selfish streak in Catherine, but now Catherine had redeemed herself.

He heard Michelle mention John’s name and called out, “I’m thinking I ought to get on the phone and ring up Catherine’s husband.”

“Oh, Daddy, don’t do that,” Michelle said.

“No,” Theo ordered sharply at the same time.

“Why not?” Daddy asked. He turned in his chair and looked at Theo. “I ought to tell him thank you for the money. It’s the right thing to do. He was Catherine’s husband, and he had to approve it.”

Michelle was shaking her head as Theo was walking toward her father. “Sir, I don’t want you to call him. Promise me you won’t.”

“Give me a reason, then,” Daddy said. “And I’ll promise. Make it a good one.”

“Okay,” Theo said. His voice was calm as he continued, “He tried to kill your daughter.”

D
addy took the news much better than John Paul did. Michelle’s brother wanted to get in the pickup, hunt down the bastard, and blow his head off. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason, and he didn’t give a hoot about the law.

“If you know he’s the man behind this, then take him out before he has another chance to kill her,” he demanded.

Theo wasn’t fazed by John Paul’s fury. “I can’t prove it yet. It’s all circumstantial,” he explained. “Which is why I have to go to New Orleans.”

John Paul looked as if he wanted to hit Theo. Michelle got between the two men and tried to make her brother calm down.

The doorbell rang, interrupting the argument. While Daddy went to let Noah in, Theo said, “We hang tight.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you can’t shoot anyone.”

Theo turned to Michelle. “Promise me you won’t leave The Swan until I get back. No ifs or buts about it. I don’t want to be worrying about you . . .”

“Okay,” she said. She patted his chest and stepped closer. “You be careful too.”

“If there’s any trouble, you do what Noah tells you to do. John Paul, you watch your father’s back. Got that?”

Her brother stopped arguing and gave an abrupt nod. Noah was standing by the front door talking to Daddy. The FBI agent hadn’t bothered to shave and looked scruffy in torn jeans and a faded blue shirt. She went to greet him. She could certainly understand Mary Ann’s interest. There was an element of danger about the man that made women want to run from him and try to rehabilitate him at the same time.

Those blue eyes penetrated as he said, “I heard you had a busy night dodging bullets.”

She couldn’t resist. “I heard you had a busy night too.”

“Yes, I did. Your friend told me to tell you ‘hey.’ I think that means ‘hi,’” he said, grinning. “I sure didn’t have much fun this morning, though. You’d figure a man on vacation should be able to sleep in. “Where’s Theo?” he asked.

“He is on the porch with John Paul. Through the kitchen,” she said.

Noah headed that way, but she stopped him when she said, “Will you please do me a favor?”

“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”

“Put up with my brother.”

Noah laughed. “I can get along with anyone.”

“Want to bet?”

It was too bad she hadn’t wagered money because she would have won. Less than three minutes had passed when the shouting started. Her brother was doing most of the yelling, but Noah was keeping up.

Theo came into the kitchen with Noah’s car keys. Michelle winced when she heard her brother call Noah a grossly obscene name.

Theo heard it too. Grinning, he said, “I knew they’d get along.”

Her eyes widened. “You call that getting along?” “

You don’t hear any gunshots, do you? Noah likes your brother.”

Then she heard her brother threaten Noah. His vocabulary was not only colorful, but creative. After that, Noah threatened John Paul in his own rather colorful and creative way. His threat would ensure John Paul would never father children.

“Oh, I can tell he likes him a lot.”

“The two of them have a great deal in common. What’d I do with my glasses?”

“They’re on the table. Exactly what could they have in common?”

“They’re both mean as snakes,” he said as he picked up the glasses and folded them.

“Noah’s not mean. He smiles all the time.”

“Yes, he does,” he agreed. “And that’s what makes him more dangerous. You don’t see it coming until it’s too late. Some of the stories I’ve heard about him from my brother are chilling, which is why Noah’s going to be watching out for you.”

He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her along to the front door.

“You haven’t told me why you need to go to New Orleans.”

“I’m going to check out some things,” he said, which really wasn’t an answer to her question.

He leaned down and kissed her. It was a quick brush of his mouth against hers, and it was thoroughly unsatisfying in her opinion. He must have thought so, because after he let go of her and opened the door, he roughly pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. This one was vastly different.

Smiling, he pulled the door closed behind him. Michelle stood by the window watching until Theo had driven away. He had John Paul on his guard looking out for Daddy, and Noah was supposed to babysit her. Who was going to watch out for Theo? She shook her head. No worry, she told herself. Detective Harris would make the arrests any minute now.

What more could happen?

T
he Sowing Club had gathered in John’s motel room in St. Claire.

John was going through the papers, making certain the entire printout was there, while Dallas, Cameron, and Preston silently waited. He finally finished, looked up, and laughed.

“The bitch even included a copy of the letter she wrote to me,” he said.

“I’m still making a protest,” Preston said. “The way we got those papers back was too risky.”

“Does that matter now? We’re in the clear.”

Dallas disagreed. “Not until we’ve gotten rid of Buchanan and the doctor. And we’ve got to do it tonight, thanks to yet another one of Cameron’s screwups.”

“Look, I panicked. Okay? I saw Buchanan looking out the window, and I thought I could get him, so I shot at him.”

“We had decided to go in easy,” Preston reminded him.

“I was desperate to get him . . . for the good of the club,” Cameron stammered. “Besides, Buchanan doesn’t know I shot at him, and it stands to reason that he would assume someone’s after him. Dallas, you did the background check. You’re the one who told us the guy has gotten death threats.”

Preston nodded. “No time to waste. We have to kill them tonight.”

“I wonder if the doctor has remembered where she’s seen Cameron,” Dallas said.

None of them looked at Cameron as they thought about that.

“I told you I was sick of waiting,” Cameron said.

“You had no right . . .” Preston began.

John put his hand up. “Let it go,” he said. “It’s done and Cameron regrets his mistakes. Isn’t that right?” he asked.

It wasn’t what he said but how he said it, with such feigned kindness, that made Cameron see what was happening.

“John’s right,” Dallas said. “Cameron has been our friend for too many years to let a couple of mistakes ruin anything. Forgive and forget. Right, Preston?”

Preston smiled. “Yeah, okay. Want a drink, Cam?”

He shook his head. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. “I should pack up and head back to New Orleans . . . unless you’ve changed your mind, John, and want me to stay and help.”

“Help with what?”

“Buchanan and the doctor. You’re going to go after them tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” John said. “But both of them have seen your face, so you can’t stay around. We’ve gone over this, Cameron. Go home and wait. I’ll call you after it’s finished, and we’ll go out and celebrate.”

“The doctor saw you at the funeral too. How come you’re staying here?”

“To coordinate,” he said.

Cameron stood. “Where’s Monk?” he asked, squelching the mounting fear inside him.

“Out buying some equipment. Why do you want to know?”

Cameron shrugged. “Is he going to help you get Buchanan?”

“Yes,” Dallas answered.

“What about the FBI agent, the man named Clayborne.”

“Let us worry about him,” John said smoothly. “You better get going now.”

“Don’t worry,” Dallas said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Cameron went outside and pulled the door closed. Because he thought one of them might be watching him through the crack in the drapes, he strolled to the corner as though he wasn’t in any particular hurry. He turned toward his room and then started running. When he reached the door, he pulled out his gun, cocked it, and rushed inside.

He half expected to find Monk waiting for him, but the room was empty. He gagged, so great was his relief. He threw his clothes into his overnight bag, grabbed his car keys, and ran to his car. Desperate to get away, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car fishtailed out of the parking lot.

John had told him to go home and wait. That’s where it was going to happen, he decided. Would his dear friends come after him, or would they send Monk to kill him? Either way, Cameron knew he was a dead man. He pulled onto the highway, checking the rearview mirror every other second to make sure he wasn’t being followed by Monk now. There were no cars behind him. Cameron finally allowed himself to exhale, letting out a long, loud breath. His hands were clammy and shaking. He struggled to hold them steady on the steering wheel, and then he began to cry.

He had to go to his apartment because he had money stashed under one of the floorboards, and he would need it when he left town. He had time, he told himself. They would need Monk to help them with Buchanan. Yes, he had time.

Cameron was quivering so badly now he knew the only thing that would calm him down and help him think was a drink. He pulled off the highway at the next exit and started looking for a bar.

P
hillip Benchley was not a happy camper. The attorney had just stepped onto the first tee of the back nine at the prestigious New Orleans Country Club when he was summoned to the clubhouse to meet with an attorney from the U.S. Department of Justice.

Impatient but polite, he announced, “My friends are waiting,” as he walked into the locker room and sat down on a bench to retie his black-and-white saddle golf shoes. “I would appreciate it if you would make this quick.”

Theo introduced himself. The second Benchley heard that the case he wanted to discuss involved John Russell, his manner improved and he actually smiled.

“You’re investigating John Russell? Oh, I’d love it if you could get that prick. The sheer arrogance of the man is unbelievable. When Catherine Russell called me and asked me to change her will, it took all I had not to cheer. She never should have married that man. Never,” he repeated. “Now, tell me, what can I do to help you nail him?”

“You told FBI agent Noah Clayborne that you sent Dr. Michelle Renard a package from Catherine. Isn’t that right?”

Benchley nodded. “Yes, I did, but, as I explained to him, if you’re wanting to know what was inside, you’ll have to ask the doctor. Catherine gave me a sealed envelope and instructed me not to open it.”

“The envelope was taken away before Michelle could look at it,” he said. “Catherine didn’t give you any hint of what was inside? Anything about a financial statement or an audit? Anything at all?” Theo asked.

“No, but I’ll tell you this. Whatever it was must have been explosive, because Catherine assured me that once John knew about it, he wouldn’t dare contest the will. She was very sure about that.”

“He signed a prenup?”

“Yes, he did, but John’s an attorney and he’s smart. He wouldn’t have let that much money slip through his fingers. He would have taken it to court.”

“How come you waited six weeks from the time of her death to read the will?”

“You’ve been doing your research. Again, I was following Catherine’s instructions.” He smiled as he added, “She was a bit vindictive, and she told me to wait so that John’s bills would pile up. He lived the high life, was indiscreet, and used her trust money to buy his mistresses presents. When Catherine found out about his adultery, she called me and told me she was changing the will.”

“Did you attend the funeral?”

“I went to the mass,” he said. “But I didn’t go to the cemetery.”

“Michelle said there was only a handful of mourners. Did you know any of them?”

“I knew the housekeeper, Rosa Vincetti. I met her when I came to the house to discuss the changes in the will.”

“What about John’s coworkers or friends?”

“A couple of men and women from the trust department where he works were there. I talked to one man, and he introduced me to the others, but I don’t remember their names.”

“What about John’s friends?”

“Let me think,” he said. “I remember there was a woman standing in the back of the church. She told me she was Catherine’s interior designer but that she had also redecorated John’s office. As I was leaving the church, she chased me and handed me one of her cards. I thought that was most inappropriate, and as soon as I got back to the office, I threw the card away. The only other person I remember seeing was Cameron Lynch. He’s a close friend of John’s.”

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s a stockbroker,” Benchley said. “A very successful broker,” he stressed. “I had heard of him, but I’d never met him until the day of the funeral. I remember thinking that he was an alcoholic. It wasn’t a charitable thought, granted, but he smelled like booze, and his eyes were bloodshot. I’m certain he was hungover. He also had that look about him — you know what I mean, the gray skin, red nose, puffy eyes, indicating he had been a heavy drinker for some time. Cameron stayed close to John and sat in the pew with him like he was family.”

“Did John speak to you?”

“Are you kidding? He looked right through me, and I must say, I did get a chuckle out of that. The man despises me, and that couldn’t make me happier.”

heo was almost finished. He asked a couple more questions, then thanked Benchley for his help and left. The attorney had thoughtfully called his secretary and gotten the addresses Theo needed.

He had at least two more stops before he could head back to Bowen.

Theo needed to make sure Cameron Lynch was the man Michelle and he had seen the night before. He drove to the brokerage firm and went into the lobby. He had already come up with a good lie to tell the receptionist so she would find a photo for him, but that wasn’t necessary. As soon as he walked through the doors, he saw a eight-by-ten color photo of Cameron Lynch on the wall. Theo came to a dead stop. There was a grouping displaying all the brokers in the firm. Cameron was in the middle. Theo glanced at the receptionist. She was talking into her headset but smiling at him. Theo smiled back. Then he lifted the photo off the wall, turned around, and walked out.

He needed help with the next stop. He called Captain Welles, the man who had introduced him at the awards ceremony, and asked him for assistance. Then he drove to Cameron Lynch’s apartment, located in a sleazy neighborhood adjacent to the newly refurbished warehouse district. He parked his car down the street and waited for two detectives from the captain’s precinct to arrive.

The two men pulled up behind him fifteen minutes later. Detective Underwood, the senior of the two, shook Theo’s hand.

“The captain told us you’re the man who got The Count. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Then Detective Basham stepped forward. “I heard your speech at the banquet.”

Theo had removed the photo from the frame. He handed it to Underwood and said, “This is the man I want.”

“The captain said we’re taking Cameron Lynch in for attempted murder and that you’ve got a witness,” Basham said.

“I’m one of the witnesses. Lynch tried to kill a friend of mine and me.”

“We did a sweep of the neighborhood, and his car isn’t here,” Underwood said.

“So how do you want us to do this?” Basham asked. “Captain said you had special instructions.”

“Assume he’s armed and dangerous,” Theo said. “When you cuff him, read him his rights and take him in, but don’t book him yet. I want him locked in an interrogation room so I can talk to him. I don’t want his name in the computer, not yet anyway.”

“We’ll stake out the place. You want to wait with us?”

“No, I’ve got another stop to make, but as soon as you have him, call me on my cell phone or at a bar in Bowen named The Swan. Hopefully, you won’t have to wait long. I think he’s on his way home.”

It seemed logical. Lynch wouldn’t want to stay in Bowen, not after he’d been spotted, and he wouldn’t know that Theo had made the connection. Theo wrote down his number and handed it to the detective, then reiterated that he wanted to be called, no matter what time, the second they had Lynch.

“Yes, sir, we’ll call,” Basham promised.

“Wait a minute,” Theo said as the two men walked away. He picked up his notepad, flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for, and then asked if either one of them could give him directions to the address Benchley had given him.

Underwood told him the quickest route to take and then remarked, “That’s a bad-ass neighborhood. Be careful.”

Theo drove through the heart of New Orleans, slowly negotiating his way through the narrow streets. He was sure he’d gotten lost, but once he turned the car around, he spotted the street he was looking for. Two blocks later he found the address. He parked the car, then picked up his phone and called Noah.

“Find out anything?” Noah asked.

Theo told him about Cameron Lynch. “Ask Ben Nelson to look for a ’92 blue Ford Taurus.” He gave him the license number and told him to tell Ben that if he found the car, to proceed with extreme caution.

“You think he can handle it?” Noah asked.

“Yes,” Theo answered. “He knows what he’s doing. Just make sure he knows Lynch is one of the shooters. I want that bastard locked up and isolated until I can interrogate him.”

“I doubt that Lynch is still hanging around Bowen. He’s got to know you can ID him.”

“I don’t think he’s there either,” Theo said. “I’m hoping he’s on his way home. What’s Michelle doing?”

“She’s a funny woman,” he said. “She fell asleep sitting at the table.”

“She had a long night.”

“So did you,” Noah pointed out. “Anyway, she’s getting ready to go to The Swan with Jake and me . . . and his laugh-a-minute son. Have you heard from Detective Harris yet?”

“No, I haven’t, and I’ve left her three messages. The first two were sort of polite, the third wasn’t.”

“While I was in New Orleans this morning, I went over to her precinct like you asked,” Noah said. “I talked to her captain.”

“Did you get a copy of the file on Monk?”

“No,” he answered. “The captain told me Harris was out on an investigation. He wouldn’t give me any indication of where she might be. He made it clear he didn’t want me interfering. The twelve hours will be up soon. When are you heading back to Bowen?”

“I’ve got one more stop, and then I’m on my way.”

“I’ve got to go,” Noah said. “Michelle’s calling me.”

Theo grabbed his notepad and glasses and stared at the tiny ranch house in front of him. The little patch of yard was meticulously cared for with flowers lining either side of the sidewalk leading up to the door. The house needed paint, and the wood around the windows was rotten. Termites, he thought as he walked to the door. The fact that the yard was well-tended and the house ignored suggested to him that the occupant took care of what she could afford.

He rang the bell and waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the curtain move in the front window. He rang the bell again.

A woman called out through the door. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for Rosa Vincetti.”

“Are you police?” the woman asked.

“No,” he answered. “I’m a friend of Jake Renard.”

The woman opened the door a crack with the security chain in place. “I’m Rosa,” she said. “What do you want?”

She was obviously frightened. He should have taken the time to shave. “Jake Renard told me that he often talked to you on the phone when he called Catherine.”

“Yes,” she said. “Mr. Renard loved Catherine.”

Theo couldn’t see the woman’s face. She was hiding behind the door. There was a light flickering behind her. He thought it might be a candle burning.

“You aren’t with the police?” she asked again.

“No, I’m an attorney,” he explained.

Rosa shut the door, slipped the chain back, and then opened it again. She stepped back so Theo could come inside. Theo stayed on the porch. Concerned she would panic when she saw his gun, he explained quickly why he had to carry the weapon. And when he finished, he once again assured her he wasn’t a policeman, and he hadn’t driven to her house to cause her any trouble.

Rosa was a surprise. She was much younger than he’d expected, around fifty he judged, and almost as tall as he was. Streaks of gray highlighted her dark hair. Heavy brows framed midnight black eyes. There were tears in those eyes now as she once again motioned for him to come inside.

“My name is Theo Buchanan,” he said as he walked into her living room.

She was already nodding. “I know who you are. I prayed to God, and He sent you to me.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, and so he simply nodded. “Please sit,” she said and pointed to a gray brocade sofa, “and tell me why you have come here.”

Theo waited until she had taken her seat across from him. An oval glass table was between them. Theo leaned forward with his arms on his knees and told Rosa how he had met Michelle Renard. He was trying to put her at ease and help her understand his relationship to the Renard family. Rosa listened intently.

She obviously was a deeply religious woman. Signs of her faith adorned every surface in her home. Against the wall behind her was a long sofa table that had been converted into an altar with a lace runner on top. At one end, two votive candles burned, and at the other end was a framed picture of the Blessed Mother. Black rosary beads were draped over the frame.

Theo explained what had happened the night before and how he and Michelle had been ambushed. “Catherine sent Michelle a package,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

He kept his excitement hidden. His guess had been right.

“I believe the men who came after Michelle and me were trying to get that package,” he said. “They weren’t successful,” he added. “The police have it now.”

Rosa stiffened. “Did you have a chance to read the papers?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “However, I’m sure that John Russell is behind this, and I want to get him. To do that, I’m going to need your help.”

“He’s an evil man,” she whispered. “He will go to hell when he dies. He killed her, you know.”

She said it almost casually, as though the startling news had been in the papers for weeks.