by Jana DeLeon
“I’m sure she was,” Megan said. “Despite my husband’s obvious frustration with the way she’s chosen to live, Ashley isn’t evil. She’s just not cut out for regular life. Giving up Caleb was the best thing for everyone.”
Becca nodded. “She knew she wouldn’t be a good parent. But she used to talk to her mother sometimes, so she knew Megan was trying to get pregnant and hadn’t been able to. It seemed like the perfect solution.”
“But she never talked directly to you?” I asked Megan.
“No.” Megan looked sad. “I wish she would have. I miss her. I know she has her shortcomings, but Ashley was only a year older than me. She was my best friend for a large part of my life. I’d like to share things with her, especially now. But she’s not interested.”
“Have you tried to talk to her?” Gertie asked.
“Of course,” Megan said. “But she wouldn’t take our calls before, and the number we had for her was disconnected. She signed the documents with the attorney, dropped off Caleb, and simply vanished.”
I glanced at Ida Belle and Gertie and could tell they were as troubled as I was by this story.
“Do you know anything about Caleb’s biological father?” I asked.
“She said she didn’t know who he was,” Becca said. “She sometimes had one-nighters with guys from the bar. I don’t think she even found out last names. Said it was better that way in case wives came around asking questions.”
“See what I mean?” Seth said.
Becca frowned. “Look, Ashley had her issues, sure enough, but she wanted what was best for Caleb.”
“Then why has she disappeared?” Seth asked.
“Maybe she thought that was best as well,” Becca said. “I don’t think it was as easy as you think for her to give Caleb up, even though she knew it was the right thing to do. Maybe she keeps her distance for a reason. Maybe she’s trying to figure out how to deal with everything and once she does, she’ll contact you.”
“So Ashley didn’t have a relationship with anyone?” I asked.
“She had this off-and-on thing with a guy,” Becca said. “I only saw him once and from a distance. He looked…well, rough was the best way to put it. I think he knocked her around. She’d try to hide stuff with makeup, but it’s not that easy.”
“You’re sure that guy’s not the father?” I asked.
Becca bit her lower lip. “Ashley said he wasn’t. I hope not.”
Seth shook his head. “I knew this would come back to bite us in the butt. The whole thing was hinky from the start. What do you want to bet that guy is the father? And if this Cooke was looking for a woman with a baby, that means he knows Ashley gave birth.”
The color washed out of Megan’s face. “Could he take Caleb from us? Should we call the attorney and ask?”
“No way,” Seth said. “I never liked that guy and don’t trust him any farther than I can throw him. As far as I’m concerned, this shouldn’t go past this room. For Caleb’s sake. If that guy had a PI looking for Ashley, he’s not going to find her here. Maybe he’ll move on.”
Tears formed in Megan’s eyes and Seth looked angry enough to punch a hole in the wall. I figured that was our cue to leave. I had plenty to process. I looked over at Ida Belle, who gave me a slight nod and rose, Gertie and I following suit.
“I’m sorry to have upset you,” I said. “I just thought people who fit the description of whoever Cooke was looking for needed to know what was going on. As much as I know, anyway.”
“It’s not your fault,” Seth said. “And we appreciate you telling us. We’ll know to be on the lookout.”
We headed out of the house and as we climbed into the SUV, Becca hurried out after us.
“Do you really think Cooke was hired to find Ashley?” she asked.
I shrugged. “If Ashley was a young brunette with a baby, then it’s possible.”
Becca nodded and I could tell she was worried. “I’ve tried to find her, but she quit at the bar and her apartment manager said she skipped out on rent.”
“Did you check…?” Gertie’s voice trailed off.
“The morgue?” Becca asked. “Yeah, I know the score. I checked the morgue and with hospitals. I really like Ashley but I don’t harbor any illusions as to the dangerous decisions she sometimes makes. But I didn’t come up with anything. Maybe she found out he was looking for her and ditched.”
“It’s possible,” I said. “And in that case, she wouldn’t want to be found. The easiest way to track her would be through family, so Sinful is probably the last place she’d show up. What about her parents?”
“Her father is dead and her mother’s in a nursing home in north Louisiana,” Becca said. “A stroke, I think. And there was some damage.”
“So no chance Ashley is staying with her,” I said. “Please try not to worry. Ashley sounds like a resourceful woman.”
Becca blew out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sure she’s fine. Probably just lying low somewhere. She always said she was going to go somewhere tropical, like Mexico. Maybe she did.”
“What was her last name?” I asked. “And do you mind giving me her address and the name of the bar where she worked?”
“Of course not,” Becca said, looking a little relieved. “So you’ll see if you can find her?”
“At this point, I don’t think I have a choice,” I said. “She might be in trouble.”
Becca nodded and gave me the information. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“You can give me the attorney’s name,” I said. “He might have a way to contact Ashley.”
“And you think he’d give it to you?” Becca asked.
“No,” I said. “But he would probably be willing to pass along a message, especially if it concerned her safety.”
“That makes sense,” Becca said. “The attorney was Raymond Abshire. To be honest, I didn’t like him much either. He seemed sorta skeevy, if you know what I mean. But he got everything handled so I figured that was that.”
She glanced back at the house. “I guess I better get my stuff and head out. I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever they need to discuss, especially with Seth that upset. Please let me know if you find out anything about Ashley.”
I told her I would and then climbed into the SUV. As soon as I shut the door, we all stared at one another.
“Raymond Abshire,” I said. “What do you want to bet both couples used the same attorney?”
“That both Seth and Becca think was shady,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle started the SUV and pulled away. “Something feels really wrong about all of this.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Swing by the sheriff’s department. I’ll tell Carter what I know about Cooke.”
“What about Abshire and Ashley?” Gertie asked.
I shook my head. “Carter’s looking for the killer, and that can’t be Abshire or Ashley because neither was there. We’re looking for the target of Cooke’s investigation.”
“But won’t figuring out the target help identify the killer?” Gertie asked.
“Probably,” I said. “But Carter will do his own interviews and will get the same information we did.”
“The question is which one of them isn’t telling us everything,” Ida Belle said.
I nodded and stared out the window, pondering that very thing. Both couples had appeared troubled at the information and both husbands had been downright angry. But was one of them the killer? I felt like things were being held back in both instances but that was usually the case. People always had things they’d rather others didn’t know, and it definitely didn’t always include murder.
But the likelihood that one of them was the killer was high, especially if one of the adoptive parents felt their baby was at risk.
Chapter Fifteen
My conversation with Carter went about as well as expected. I’m sure he figured I’d gotten my information from the Heberts, which irritated him, especially as he hadn’t b
een able to rustle up that tidbit on Cooke’s investigation himself. But he also knew the score. Law enforcement would never be able to get things out of sketchy people that other sketchy people could get. And as ‘sketchy’ was currently my client, that meant I was privy to the underground data stream. But in addition to his general aggravation, there appeared to be something else going on. Something he wasn’t saying.
Ida Belle and Gertie elected to wait for me in the car. I didn’t blame them. This wasn’t their battle, and their presence would probably only make Carter surlier, as he knew they were totally with me on how I was handling things.
“Well?” Gertie asked when I climbed into the SUV.
“He’s not happy that he doesn’t have the inside info on this one,” I said. “But he also knows that he doesn’t have the same options.”
Ida Belle studied me for a moment. “And?”
“He was also a bit weird,” I said.
“About you?” Gertie asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t think it was personal. Not about our relationship, anyway. More like I think he knows something that we don’t. He had that look like he wanted to say something, but he was holding back.”
“He’s probably narrowed down something and wishes he could tell you to warn you off,” Ida Belle said. “He’s got the car and the ME report and we don’t have any of that.”
“You think he’s figured out who the killer is?” Gertie asked.
“Maybe,” Ida Belle said. “He won’t make an arrest until he’s built a case for the DA, though. But if he is pretty sure he knows who did it, he might be struggling with not telling Fortune.”
“Why?” Gertie asked. “He can’t tell her. She knows that.”
“Because if I know who the killer is, then there’s no need for us to continue investigating,” I said.
“Ah,” Gertie said. “That makes sense. I wish we knew what he does.”
“We always wish we knew what he does,” Ida Belle said. “But our options for getting that information have all but disappeared due to our past success. He guards his computer password like it’s the key to Fort Knox. He doesn’t keep anything printed or written anymore. And I understand the ME’s office has a new camera system that the sheriff’s department has also requested.”
Gertie huffed. “He’s really cramping our style.”
I laughed. “Yeah, he sorta is.”
Then a thought occurred to me. “You know what? I wonder if he already knows who Cooke was looking for.”
“Why do you say that?” Ida Belle asked.
“Cooke showed that other PI a photo,” I said. “So he had one printed but I didn’t find anything like that in his motel room. No hard files at all. So assuming he still had it, that means it was probably in his car.”
Ida Belle blew out a breath. “Well, hell. I bet you’re right. Here we are doing all this running around and Carter probably has the photo and is ten steps ahead of us.”
“But if he had the photo, then why hasn’t he been to question Megan or Amber?” Gertie asked.
“Because he wouldn’t want to alert them that he’s onto them,” Ida Belle said. “He’d dig into things and I wouldn’t put it past him to do some surveillance.”
“Then all we have to do is follow Carter and we’d know who was in the photo,” Gertie said.
“I don’t think tailing Carter would be as easy as you think,” I said. “The job he did for the Marine Corps was one of those that requires eyes in the back and on the sides of your head. He’d see us coming a mile away.”
“And he’d be expecting it, so he’d be looking for us,” Ida Belle said. “So how do you want to approach this?”
“I think we need to do our thing without regard to his thing,” I said. “I gave him information, so we’re not guilty of withholding on an active investigation. I think the first thing we need to do is talk to this attorney, Abshire. Then see what we can run down on Ashley Breaux.”
Gertie clapped. “Road trip!”
Ida Belle checked her watch. “We have caroling at six. That gives us roughly four hours if we leave time to get ready. Take out an hour and a half for commute and we’ve got two and a half for detecting.”
“Let’s go with two hours for commute,” I said. Racing toward death would probably limit our ability to investigate.
Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “Fine. Two hours.”
“Does that leave us enough time?” Gertie asked.
“It does to get started anyway,” I said. “If we run out, then we’ll head back tomorrow. Not like the attorney, the bar, or the apartment complex is going anywhere.”
“Then let’s take ten minutes to grab a sandwich from Francine and head out,” Ida Belle said.
Despite a bit of grumbling from her passengers, Ida Belle made the drive to New Orleans in about forty-five minutes. I was pretty sure she was getting negative three miles to the gallon. But despite the crazy speed, she managed to weave in and out of traffic, one-handed, while eating her own sandwich. The woman definitely had skills. They often scared the heck out of me, but I couldn’t complain about her efficiency.
I’d looked up Abshire’s office on the way and directed Ida Belle to an area just on the edge of the French Quarter. The building was a bit run-down and the area looked a little questionable, but that all seemed to fit with everyone’s feelings about the attorney. We headed inside and located his office on the second floor. I tried the door but it was locked. I knocked and we waited.
No one came.
I knocked again, this time harder, but didn’t hear anyone stirring inside.
The door to the office across the hall opened and a woman stepped out. She drew up short when she saw us. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“We were looking for Raymond Abshire,” I said. “Does he still have an office here?”
“Well, yes, but he’s not in,” she said. “I’m not sure when he will be again.”
It was clear from the tone of her voice that something was wrong.
“Did something happen to Mr. Abshire?” I asked.
She nodded. “He was assaulted. About two weeks ago, a man broke into his house and tied him up and beat him.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I think so,” she said. “But the cops said he was in pretty bad shape. I think he’s going to be in the hospital a while.”
“He’s still in the hospital?” I asked, thinking the beating had been epic if they were still holding him two weeks later.
“There was a complication of some kind,” she said. “A staph infection, I think. You keep hearing about that sort of thing, which just scares the daylights out of me. You go in for one thing and then you acquire something else in the place where you’re supposed to get better.”
“That’s very unfortunate,” I agreed. “I assume he was attacked as part of a robbery?”
“Seems that way,” she said. “The guy who attacked him stole money and electronics. Someone broke into Mr. Abshire’s office that same night. It’s put everyone in the building a little on edge.”
“No security cameras in the building?” I asked.
She gave me a disgusted look. “The landlord can barely be bothered to keep the roof from leaking and the plumbing working. No way he’s springing for security.”
“Do you have any idea why Mr. Abshire might have been targeted?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “The police told us the robber only asked where he kept money. I got the impression that Mr. Abshire didn’t have much on hand, though. It doesn’t make a lot of sense…beating a man that way for what amounts to very little financial gain in the big scheme of things.”
“Probably on drugs,” Gertie said.
“That’s certainly possible,” she said. “I don’t work past dark anymore. This area is okay in the daylight but I don’t want to be around afterward. And I’m sorry, but I need to get on with my errands or I won’t make sundown tonight.�
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“Thank you for the information,” I said.
She nodded and walked away.
“Does anyone think someone broke into Abshire’s house, tied him up, beat him, and also broke into his office because they were looking for random cash?” I asked.
“Not even,” Ida Belle said. “You think it was Cooke?”
“I do,” I said.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance that Abshire would give us a description or tell us what Cooke really wanted,” Gertie said.
“I’d say ice cube’s chance in hell,” I said. “He didn’t tell the police.”
“I wonder why not,” Ida Belle said.
“If I had to guess, I’d say because his adoptions aren’t always on the up-and-up,” I said. “Ashley Breaux might have told him she didn’t know who the father of her baby was but did he bother to research that? I get the feeling that his practice operates just this side of the law, which is why he lied to the police about what the man wanted and probably about the cash and electronics being taken.”
“That would also explain why Zach Vincent kicked us out when we started asking about the adoption,” Gertie said. “I bet he knows Abshire isn’t on the level.”
“Given that he’s a security expert, I can’t imagine getting information on Abshire would have been that difficult for him,” I said.
Ida Belle nodded. “Cooke must not have gotten anything out of Abshire if he went for the office records. How much do you think was contained in them?”
“Likely, it was the other way around,” I said. “I’ll bet Cooke broke into the office first and didn’t find what he was looking for, then headed to Abshire’s house. If Abshire was smart, he didn’t keep a bunch of paper around detailing his indiscretions. Probably stored digitally and with the absolute minimum required to pass through the courts.”
“And Cooke couldn’t get much from Abshire, because he probably makes a point to not remember the details,” Gertie said. “But he must have gotten enough information to know where to start looking.”
“Delivery locations,” Ida Belle said. “Abshire might not have committed the adoptive parents’ or the mothers’ names to memory, but I bet he remembered where babies in the time frame given were delivered, especially since two were somewhat local.”