Watch Me Die (25 page)

“Then this morning, I wake up and you’re gone!”

“I left a note.”

“You didn’t show up for your appointment with Dr. Jasper.”

“Dr. Jasper?”

“You had an eight o’clock appointment with her. She called, looking for you.”

Shit. She’d forgotten.
“I’ll call her.”

“And,” Deni continued, following her into the workroom, “you were supposed to call Lance this morning.” At her blank stare, she said, “Lance Arnold. Your attorney.”

“Crap. I forgot that, too. I’ll take care of it.”

Mira crossed to the Magdalene window and stopped before it. Deni followed. “I tried to call you. A bunch of times. You never picked up.”

“I left my phone at the house.”

Deni shook her head in disbelief. “People are being murdered, your dead husband may or may not be paying you visits, you’re a suspect in a homicide and you just leave your phone at home?”

When she didn’t comment, Deni went on, clearly exasperated. “We still have to set the date for the installation. Sister Sarah Elisabeth called; she wants to know when we’re coming.”

“Not yet. I’m not ready.”

“The window’s complete. Mira, you can’t put it off forever.”

“I’m not ready,” she said again, looking over her shoulder at Deni. “I need to be at my best. With everything going on … my head’s not straight. I’ll make a mistake. I won’t chance that.”

Mira glanced away, then back at her friend. “I’ve got to ask you a question, Deni, and I hope you’re not mad. I know you weren’t alone last night. When I went to the bathroom, I heard you talking to someone. I heard a male voice. Why’d you lie to me?”

“I didn’t.” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Maybe you heard the TV?”

“It wasn’t the TV. I heard my name. And Jeff’s.”

“Mira, honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mira knew what she had heard.

What could Deni be hiding? What could matter so much?

She crossed to her friend and caught her hands, holding them tightly. “You can tell me anything. We’re friends. And I count on you. To help me run this place, but more important, for your friendship.”

The words came out thickly; she cleared her throat. “I really need you right now. I don’t think I can do this without you, whatever
this
is.”

Her friend’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged her. “Thank you. There is something I need to tell you, something I’ve been wanting to tell—”

“Hey, you two,” Chris said, coming in the side door. “What’s going on? It looks like a lovefest in here.”

“Mutual appreciation society,” Deni said, releasing Mira.

“I forgot my cooler. Mind if I grab a water out of the fridge?”

“Get all you want,” Mira said. “I really appreciate you coming down to the police station for me last night. I owe you.”

“That’s what friends do for each other.” He started for the kitchen. “Anybody else need anything?”

“Coffee?” Mira said.

“I’ll make some,” Deni offered, falling in step with Chris.

Mira watched them go. What had Deni been about to tell her? The truth? That she had lied about having company? Or something else entirely? Chris’s arrival had shattered the moment.

Deni hadn’t wanted Chris to hear.

But why? They had been romantically involved for a while now, what secret would she have from him?

Mira shifted her attention to the Magdalene panel. Detective Malone had asked her if she knew what the phrase “He cast out Seven Demons” referred to. Why, she wondered, had he wanted to know that?

He’d been questioning her about Anton’s murder. So, obviously, it must have had something to do with it. But what?

Mira focused on the panel, tilting her head as she studied the saint’s grief-stricken expression. Strangely, she didn’t feel the connection with the saint that she had before. As if someone—or something—had broken it.

Her friends returned and Deni handed her the coffee. Mira curled her hands around the mug. “Do either of you know Magdalene’s story?”

“I do,” Chris said. “She was a prostitute and Jesus saved her. Something like that, anyway.”

“He did save her, by casting out demons. Seven of them.” She met Chris’s eyes. “But she wasn’t a prostitute. It doesn’t say that anywhere in the Bible. The early church made it up.”

Mira sipped the coffee, mind tripping forward. “Detective Malone asked me about the casting out of Seven Demons. He asked if I knew what it meant.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say.” Mira searched her memory, then shook her head. “But don’t you think it’s odd that he asked that and here she is in my studio? Think about it. The three murders are connected to me and so is Mary Magdalene.”

“Maybe I should call Dr. Jasper,” Deni said, going for her phone.

Chris caught her arm, stopping her. “She’s okay. Let her talk.”

“He’s right,” Mira said. “I am okay. I’m just processing. Trying to work a few things out, that’s all. Maybe make a point.”

Although Deni didn’t look happy about it, she nodded and Mira went on. “For centuries, people believed the lie about Magdalene. Just because someone said it was so.” She paused. “More likely she was Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus.”

“The Mary who dried Jesus’ feet with her hair?” Chris offered.

“Yes. She was absolutely devoted to him. Some speculate they were married.”

“Like in that book,
The Da Vinci Code.
”

“Right. But way before Dan Brown, people made the case they were married. Take Jesus’ first recorded miracle, the wedding at Cana. It makes sense the wedding in the story was actually Jesus’. Why else would his mother have come to him about providing wine for the guests? Providing food and drink would have fallen on the party’s host. In this case the host was the groom.”

“And he did,” said Chris. “He turned water into wine.”

“Exactly.” Mira glanced at her two friends again. “If I were possessed by demons and someone came along and set me free of them, I’d certainly be devoted to him. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Deni agreed. “I suppose I would.”

“Demons in my head,” she said under her breath, more to herself than them. “Is that the same as being nuts? In Jesus’ time, was a mental illness, like schizophrenia, considered demonic possession? Or is the reverse true?”

“The reverse?”

“Is what we call mental illness today really demonic possession?”

“You’re scaring me now,” Deni said.

She was scaring herself, Mira acknowledged. But she pressed on anyway. “And just imagine, Magdalene had to watch her beloved die. That’s the story of this window.”

“I still don’t understand,” Deni murmured.

“You can’t always believe what people say … They told me Jeff was dead and now it may not be true. Jeff told me he didn’t know where Connor had gone and now I learn that might have been a lie. We believe all sorts of things, just because people tell us it’s so.”

Chris came off his stool, crossed to her and drew her to her feet. “You’ve been through so much, Mira.” He hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I know how much it sucks.”

Tears choked her and she rested her head on his chest. “I just don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You can believe in me,” he said simply. “I’m real. You can believe in Deni. We’re your friends. We love you and won’t let anything happen to you.”

The bell above the shop’s door jingled. “I’ll see who it is,” Deni said, heading that way. Moments later, she appeared in the doorway. Her expression showed that she had bad news.

As the thought registered, Mira saw who the bad news was: Detective Spencer Malone.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Wednesday, August 17

9:55
A.M.

If looks could kill, Mira’s assistant would be wanted for murder, Malone thought. Ditto for the carpenter. Gallier, on the other hand, just looked as if she had been put through the wringer.

He nodded toward the stained-glass panel she stood in front of. “What saint is she?” he asked, though he suspected he knew.

“Mary Magdalene.”

The window she had told Percy she’d done all the research for.
He crossed to stand beside her. “It’s incredible.”

“Yes, it is.” She turned to fully face him. “I talked to your fiancée this morning.”

“She told me.”

“She was a lot of help. I like her.”

“I’ll tell her you said so. I’ve got a bit of bad news.” She stiffened, as if preparing herself. “My captain needs me to bring you back downtown for further questioning. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Can’t you just talk to me here?”

“I wish. But this is a homicide investigation and we have to cover all our bases. Standard procedure.”

It was a good thing none of that was a lie, because as she silently studied his expression, he sensed she was trying to decide if he was being straight with her. To that end, he added, “I can ask permission to be the one who interviews you, if that would make you feel more comfortable?”

“It would, thanks. Will it take long?”

“Shouldn’t.” He smiled. “Scout’s honor.”

“Were you a Scout?”

“No, I was a hellion.”

She laughed, though it sounded forced. “I should call my lawyer.”

“Go right ahead.”

Mira did, only to learn that he was in court. She left a detailed message, then looked at Deni. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If Lance calls, fill him in.”

“I could come with you?” she said. “Or Chris could?”

“Somebody’s got to keep things running here. I’ll be fine.”

The assistant wanted to argue, Spencer saw. The boyfriend looked ready for a fight. Mira reassured them both, and several moments later, Spencer held the door open for her as she stepped out onto the front porch. He joined her. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“If it’s the same place I was yesterday, headquarters on Perdido Street.”

“Good, then I’ll follow you,” he said, knowing she would see his letting her drive herself as a sign of trust on his part. Which was exactly what he wanted her to think. The truth was, he didn’t believe she was a flight risk and even if she did try, she couldn’t outrun him.

Buckled into the Camaro, he used his voice-activated dialing to call Stacy. “What are you doing?” he asked when she answered.

“Going out of my effing mind. You?”

“Heading back to HQ to question Gallier. How would you like a bit of undercover work?”

Stacy laughed. “Are you kidding?”

“That’s what I thought. I want you to tail Gallier when she leaves HQ. She’s driving a blue Ford Focus. When she parks it, I’ll let you know where.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Where she goes, who she speaks to. And look, I’m not certain we don’t have this thing all wrong and Gallier herself is in danger. In which case—”

“I watch my own ass as well as hers.”

“Yes.” The phone beeped, indicating another call coming in. “Got to go. Keep me posted.”

He clicked through. “Malone here.”

“Hey, bro. Where ya at?”

Percy.
“Poydras near the Dome. Any luck with the café employees?”

“None. One of the women from Café Express thought Scott looked familiar but couldn’t place him at the restaurant Monday morning. Have you seen Bayle?”

“She’s not with you?”

“Nope. I thought maybe there’d been a game change.”

Spencer frowned. “Not that I’m aware of.” The light turned green. Mira eased through, Spencer followed. “Be there in ten minutes. If we can’t find her then, release the hounds.”

His brother laughed and hung up.

Exactly ten minutes later he and Mira Gallier arrived on the third floor of NOPD HQ. He kept the conversation flowing and light. He didn’t want her revealing anything before they had an audience and a tape running. He supposed he should feel at least a pinch of guilt at his tactics, but didn’t.

He was investigating three homicides. If she was guilty, she didn’t deserve one iota of his guilt. If she wasn’t, that would be proved out as well.

“Yo, Malone. Bayle was looking for you.”

He turned toward his fellow detectives. “Hey, Waldon. Johnson. Tell her I heard she was MIA and I’m heading in for an interview.”

“Did you say Walton and Johnson?” Gallier asked as they walked away. “Like the Radio Gawds?”

“Waldon, with a
d
. But yeah, it’s kind of their claim to fame.” He leaned his head closer to hers. “Only not funny. Distinctly unfunny, actually. But they don’t get that, which
is
funny. Pretty crazy, huh?”

They reached the interview room and headed inside.

He went to switch on the camera. “You want to wait for your lawyer? It’s no problem.”

She took a seat. “That’s okay. Let’s go ahead and get started.”

“If at any point you change your mind, just let me know.” He sat across from her. “Why were you at my home today?”

“I thought maybe you could help me.”

“With what?”

“Some bizarre things had happened. I was confused.”

“When I spoke to Stacy, she said you told her you didn’t know what to believe. Or who to trust. Is that accurate?”

“Yes.”

“Does your confusion have anything to do with Connor Scott?”

She looked surprised. “Why do you ask?”

He smiled. “Answer my question first. Okay?”

She nodded, though she looked uncomfortable. He repeated the question. “Did your confusion have anything to do with Connor Scott?”

“A little, yes.”

“Could you explain?”

“He said some things—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Let me be the judge of that. What kind of things?”

“About my husband. They’re really personal.”

“Maybe I can help?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “That’s why you stopped by my house this morning. For my help. Right?”

She nodded, then met his eyes. “We were friends, the three of us. But—”

“He was in love with you?”

Color flooded her cheeks. Not embarrassment, he thought, but discomfort at having been so easily read. “That’s what he said.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I do. I didn’t expect … I never…” She looked at her hands, folded on the table in front of her. “He told me that’s why he joined up.”