Frozen In Time (Behind The Crime Book 4)

by Laura Greene

“I don't even know why we all need to be here,” says Danny. “This Kilburn guy obviously got caught up with some sketchy dudes. Now he's dead, which is a shame, but that's the end of it.”

  “Then why did one of his pursuers turn his gun on Jessy?” asks Detective Garrett.

  “Maybe they thought she had seen something she wasn't supposed to,” replies Danny unconvincingly. “I don't know... you're the detective.”

  “The best detective here is your wife,” Garrett offers.

  “What? Jessy? Nah, she's put all that behind her, haven't you honey?” Danny looks hopefully at his wife. “Haven't you?” he repeats.

  Jessy nods. “Yes, Garrett and Mia know I'm done with Harlan's files. But...” Jessy looks at Danny and takes his hand. “We may not have much of a choice anymore.”

  Danny pulls his hand away. “Why? Don't tell me this Kilburn guy is caught up in Harlan's files.”

  “Well, duh,” says Mia.

  “Mia, you're not helping.” Jessy turns back to Danny. “Danny, did you not recognize Kilburn?”

  Danny sighs. “Maybe... I mean, I'm not that dense, Jessy. How many guys have that name?”

  “Why didn't you mention it?”

  “Because I didn't want it to worry you... the fact that he was the guy who sold us this house. I hoped you hadn't noticed.”

  “There's more, Danny,” says Jessy. “And you have to listen. Kilburn sold us this house because we were profiled for it. Everyone who wanted to buy it – out of all of them, you were the most likely to find Harlan's room and start investigating his cases. As it turns out, it was me who found it first.”

  Danny shakes his head. “What? No... Kilburn was a realtor...and...”

  “The guy wasn't a realtor, Danny,” interjects Garrett. “He has some connection to the criminal underground. Jessy identified him at the docks during the sting operation against a man named Falcone, and, latterly, someone called Carmichael. She saw him there, but he managed to escape before the police moved in.”

  “Why didn't you tell me this?” asks Danny.

  “I didn't want you to think the house we bought has put us both under threat. Besides, you know I quit all this wannabe detective work after that night. But it looks like that's a problem. Kilburn wanted me to continue for some reason. He said it was important.”

  “No,” Danny stands up. “Absolutely not. Those men could have killed you, Jessy. We can't let this ruin our lives. I won't let it.”

  “And how will you stop anything else from happening, Danny?” asks Mia.

  “I'll put this house up for sale. Get rid of it. Quit my job. Move to another city. Anything to protect my wife. And if you two,” he says, pointing at Garrett and Mia, “have any care for Jessy, you'll make sure none of this goes any further.”

  Danny storms out of the room and then goes outside to catch some fresh air.

  “He's a feisty one,” Garrett says. “I think I like him.”

  “Maybe he's right. I'm sorry I've been pushing, Jessy.” Mia for once strikes a sombre tone.

  “I better go and check on him,” says Jessy. She stands up from the table and exits the room. Walking along the dim hallway, she finds the door to the front yard and then opens it.

  She finds Danny sitting outside on their porch on the front step, looking at the large rhododendron bush at the end of the garden. Its bright purple flowers have been dimmed by the oncoming dark.

  “I don't know what to do, Jessy,” he says without looking at her.

  “I know... maybe you're right. Maybe we need to get away... at least for a while.”

  Danny turns to look at Jessy. “I've built a lot here, Jessy. But I'll give it all up in a heartbeat if it means protecting you.”

  Jessy sits next to her husband and nestles her head on his shoulder.

  “How much vacation time do you have?” asks Jessy.

  “Tons. You know me, I never take a holiday.”

  Jessy reaches up and caresses her husband's cheek. “I think it's time.”

  Danny looks out at the darkening garden before them.

  “Maybe it is. Maybe it is.”

  *

  “That's fine, Ms. Blanc, I'll get a new version to you as soon as I can.”

  “You’d better,” the nasally voice of an elderly woman shouts over the phone, “or my daughter will look elsewhere!”

  The call is ended and Jessy sits back in her chair. The back room has finally become what it was always meant to be: a studio for Jessy's wedding stationery design business. She has a few clients now, and Ms. Blanc is so far the biggest one. Her daughter, Emily Blanc, is getting married in six months. They are an eminent family in New Orleans' circles and, should Jessy create striking invitations, table cards, and other important pieces for the wedding, she will get her foot in the door of New Orleans high society. That will be a boon for her business.

  The only problem is that Ms. Blanc is more than a perfectionist; she is what Jessy likes to call a “knower”. I know better, no matter what, Jessy says to herself, mimicking Ms. Blanc while looking at the invitation designs before her. It has been three weeks since Kilburn was killed at the museum opening. Jessy has tried to push the memory of that night away into the distance. But it is difficult when the door to Harlan's room is there in her studio space, closed and yet enticing; a door to a world more alive and appealing than the professional one she has chosen for herself.

  Danny is away on a three day trip to New York. In just four days, Jessy and Danny will go on their first vacation for years. Now that Danny is in a great job, they can afford to spend more than they usually would. For that reason, they are going to Venice in Italy. Jessy dreams of boating down the Grand Canal, the buildings lit up around her with lanterns, far away from the troubles she has found and the troubles that have found her.

  Only four more days, she thinks to herself, stressed by the constant redesigns Ms. Blanc keeps ordering. She looks to the door of Harlan's room once more. It is an itch she has not been able to scratch. Instead she has buried herself in her work, but Ms. Blanc's continual threats of choosing another design company continue to be exhausting. Staring at that door, Jessy knows one thing for certain: none of it gives her the thrill that being a detective does. She feels alive when on a case and her curiosity is now at its peak, as that curiosity can lead her away from the pressures of a career she is no longer interested in. She is only pursuing her design career for Danny's sake.

  Kilburn said Jessy needed to continue. But what of the dangers? Her phone starts to ring; the caller ID says “Ms. Blanc”. What will she want now? A color change again?

  “Hello?” Jessy says, answering the phone.

  “Jessy. I've told my daughter we need to start again. From scratch. Have a set of five potential designs to me within the next three days, do you hear?”

  “Yes, Ms. Blanc.”

  “Good. Goodbye for now.”

  The phone call ends. As the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back, Ms. Blanc's nasally demands are pushing Jessy's buttons. Almost as though in a dream, she stands up. She walks across the studio floor. Before she knows what she is doing, her hand is pulling open the door. There is no hesitation. There is only a deep desire to act. Harlan's room, still filled with files, cases and his antique writing desk, sits in shadow. Jessy reaches up and flicks the light switch. The solitary yellow incandescent bulb springs to life. It too casts shadows of doubt to the four obscured corners of the room.

  The smell of the paper. The dust. The smell of old libraries and forgotten archives; this thrills Jessy. Just taking a look surely won't hurt? Like an addict, Jessy persuades herself that she is only taking a small step. That she will read the fourth case file and then put it back in its drawer for good. But, also like an addict, she knows deep down that these steps will start a chain of events she cannot fully control. And yet, she still steps inside and to Harlan's desk. It is a compulsion.

  Opening the drawer, the fourth case file is now in Jessy's hands. She opens i
t, and inside she is surprised to find only one folded piece of paper. Harlan's other files have notes, some redacted with black ink, and pieces torn out making the puzzle even more enticing. But there is much to go on, usually.

  Not so with the fourth case. One large piece of thick paper is all there is.

  Jessy unfolds the paper. It is a map of New Orleans. Studying it, she sees that three different locations have been circled across the city. She makes the connection immediately in her mind. She knows it is only in her mind, but she reads it as a sign.

  “Three clues,” she says to herself. “And three days until Danny comes home.”

  Her cell phone once again springs into life back in the studio room. Jessy, map in hand, walks back towards her design easel and looks at the phone. Again, it is Ms. Blanc. But this time, Jessy does not answer. She waits for the ringing to stop, then she dials a number she knows well by heart.

  “Hey,” a voice says from the other end of the line.

  “Harlan left a map. We've got three days to search three locations, are you in?”

  “Just try and stop me, honey,” says Mia.

  Chapter 3

  “Can't say I've seen this place before,” says Mia, staring at the door to an old second-hand bookstore.

  “You have to be able to read to do that,” pokes Garrett by her side.

  “Now, now, you two,” jokes Jessy. “If you can't get along, I'll take you both home to your parents and there'll be no more field trips.”

  Looking down at the map in her hand, Jessy sees the red circle around St George's Bookstore. They are in the French Quarter, and the bookstore looks every bit as antiquated as the books it no doubt hosts.

  Jessy opens the door into the store. A bell rings above to alert the owner to their presence, but no one comes. The store itself is a treasure trove. Jessy immediately feels at home there. Books of all eras encircle the space, with some heaped up on a few tables nearby. She gently runs her fingers along one of the many bookcases that tower above her. An old-style ladder on runners is attached to the cases, allowing someone to reach the top rows.

  Taking a book at random, Jessy opens it. It is a 1906 edition of the Fairy Queen. Jessy studies it as

  Mia whispers in her ear.

  “Don't fall in love with the books, honey, you'll be here all day.”

  Footsteps sound. Someone is walking out from the back.

  “But you could easily fall in love with that,” Mia says under her breath.

  Walking towards them is a man in his thirties. Messy, short blond hair with a tinge of red through it gives the man the look of someone younger. He is wearing a long, dark coat, and he seems to be oblivious to the presence of Mia, Jessy, and Garrett.

  “Grace!” the man shouts. “Grace! Have you seen my notebook?”

  He stops for a moment and then pulls a small brown leather notebook out of his pocket.

  “Never mind!”

  “It was in your pocket, wasn't it, Gabriel?” a woman's voice yells from a room somewhere in the back.

  “No...” he replies, unconvincingly.

  Notebook in hand, Gabriel steps forward to exit the shop but sees Jessy and her friends standing there, waiting.

  “Oh,” he says. “Customers...”

  “You sound surprised,” Jessy laughs.

  “Nothing in this city surprises me... I'm just on my way out, I have an errand... a case... a thing to do...” His nervous energy is charming to the group, and Jessy senses somewhat of a kindred spirit in him.

  “A case?” she asks.

  “I shouldn't have said that,” Gabriel says. “Scratch that, forget it. How can I help you?”

  “We're on a case of our own, Gabriel. My name is Jessy; these two are my associates, Richard and Mia,” Jessy points at her friends.

  “Ah, a case? You're not wanting to hire me, are you?” asks Gabriel.

  “Why would we hire a bookstore owner?” Garrett asks, confused.

  “I'm also a private detective of sorts. I wear two hats. Neither of them fits very well. Are you looking for a book, then?” Gabriel looks around the store at the books piled up on desks and lining the walls. “We've got a lot of them.”

  “Do you know a man named Harlan Mayweather?” Jessy enquires.

  “Finally!” Gabriel responds with excitement. “This thing has been burning a hole in my store for some time. Hold on!”

  Gabriel rushes into a back room and then reappears holding a dark green, cloth hardback book.

  “This here is one of the strangest requests I've ever been given. Apparently this Harlan fella, though I never met him, was aware of my work as a detective. He sent this book in the post a year ago, along with a check for ten grand and explicit instructions to store the book here until someone asked for it directly.”

  “Ten grand? Sounds like Harlan was loaded,” Mia says.

  “Maybe,” Gabriel says. “But I've always worried the book was some piece of stolen contraband. Now I'm just happy to do what the fella paid me to do. So, here it is!” He hands the book to Jessy.

  Jessy laughs. “It's an old copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales.”

  “Yup,” says Gabriel, walking past them to the door. “And not a very expensive one either.”

  “So you never knew Harlan?” asks Jessy.

  Gabriel puts his hand on the door to the outside. The rain has started and so he pulls the collar up around him. To Jessy, he looks like an old fashioned detective from the pulp era, and that's something she admires greatly.

  “Grace!” Gabriel shouts. “I'm going out! Keep an eye on the store!”

  “The Feldman case?” the woman's voice yells from somewhere near the back of the store.

  “Yes!” he shouts in response. “If you don't hear from me by tomorrow, start dredging the river.”

  “Why would I do that? I might find you, then.”

  Gabriel sighs, mumbles something under his breath, and then looks at Jessy.

  “Never hire a black-belt in sarcasm as an assistant.”

  He then opens the door. The rain is now torrential, layering the French Quarter with a thick sheen of water, causing reflections to dance all around.

  “I never knew your friend, Jessy. But he obviously needed you to have that book. Take care of it. Good luck.”

  “You too,” Jessy says, sensing that Gabriel is off on an adventure of his own.

  Stepping out into the rain, he shouts, “It's grand to be a detective, isn't it!” as the door closes, leaving Mia, Jessy and Garrett alone in the bookstore.

  “I wouldn't mind being his sidekick for a day or two, I'll tell ya,” says Mia, longingly.

  “You don't have to marry every man you meet, Cuz,” Garrett replies. He then turns to Jessy. “Do you see anything useful in there?”

  Jessy flicks the yellowed paper between her fingers and then stops suddenly. One page is dog-eared.

  “Maybe there's something special about that page?” asks Mia.

  “There must be,” Jessy says, quietly in thought.

  Chapter 4

  It is the day after the visit to the bookstore. Jessy has spent the previous night poring over the book Gabriel gave her. But its secrets are as obscure as ever. Jessy was hoping for a hidden note, invisible ink, or some other cryptic clue, but none of this appears to be the case. The only page that stands out is the one with the folded corner, and Jessy can't be sure whether that was by accident or intention. She has read that page now for what seems like a hundred times, and yet she still finds nothing in the text that suggests a cryptic origin. There are now only two days until Danny returns from his work trip. Jessy decides to push on to the second of the three locations on Harlan's map to see if it will make things clearer.

  “I think it's around here somewhere,” says Garrett. He is quickly becoming the third wheel of the investigative team, and not in an unwanted way.

  “Not that way!” Mia snaps at her cousin.

  “It is,” Detective Garrett drives further down Clairborne A
venue. When he realizes he has made a mistake he silently turns the car in the direction Mia pointed.

  “I told ya.”

  “I'm taking the scenic route,” says Garrett. A large grassy square with trees dotted around opens up before them. Garrett pulls up alongside a large white arch.

  Jessy is studying the map from the back seat. “Harlan has circled the park, but he's also drawn a very small stick man in the centre.”

  “A statue?” asks Garrett.

  “I think so.”