“And if you close the investigation, someone else will die. Maybe even someone in my family. Or me.”
“That’s not going to happen. I saw to that when I threw that creepy client of yours behind bars.” He leaned forward, his face earnest. “And one of the reasons I did it was to protect you, Franki. Can’t you see that?”
My anger would have softened, but it was too upset at his arrogance. “Uh, I don’t need your protection. But even if I did, how could you protect me when you’ve got the wrong guy?”
He put his head down for a moment. Then he looked at me interrogation style. “You got any evidence to back that up?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Like you said, this is business.” He spread his arms. “And if you haven’t got a product, you lose the sale.”
“I wouldn’t gloat if I were you. Your evidence is circumstantial, and Josh has unlimited funds. So even if you get lucky and no one else dies, when this goes to trial your case will fall apart.” I paused to smirk at the accolades on his office walls. “You’ll go from local hero to enemy number one.”
His brow lowered. He picked up a designer pen and stared at the enamel. “I was going to ask you to dinner—”
“So I heard. But I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
He half-laughed. “Good one.”
Ignoring his virtual pat on my back, I resumed my investigation. “I sent you a text about Raven’s cotillion mask. Did you find it at her apartment or in the vault?”
“No we did not.”
“You should find it.” I grabbed the door handle but kept my eyes on him. “Because the killer has it.”
“Well, I say Josh disposed of it.”
“It’s Serial Killers 101, Sullivan. They love keepsakes. Vampires would be no different.” I pulled open the door.
“End your investigation, Amato. Or I’ll have to get in your way.”
His words struck my back like bullets, and I turned to scrutinize his face. The softer side was gone, and I wondered if it had really existed. “You’re not my employer, and I’m going to honor the contract with my client.”
“And how are you planning to do that?”
“Not that I owe you any explanations, but I’m going to the frat house to get some answers about Craig.”
“He’s not the killer. Thomas either. You’re the one who’s mistaken here.”
“Given the wrongful arrest of Josh, I can’t take your word for that.” I exited and slammed the door.
Thunder blasted the sky, shaking the station.
Nature’s timing couldn’t have been worse. It served as an unsettling reminder that, in terms of the law, I was alone in my convictions about the killer. And without Sullivan to back me, the case had gotten a whole lot more dangerous.
Possibly deadly.
“Halloween is over.” I surveyed Maybe Baby’s French maid costume as she leaned in the doorway of Delta Upsilon Delta. “Why are you still wearing that?”
She pulled up a fishnet thigh high. “‘Cause I got nursing duty till noon.”
“What is this nursing—”
The hospital beds.
I tossed my wet umbrella on the porch and pushed past her. And I ran down the hallway to The Dungeon.
“Hey!” she squeak-shouted. “You can’t go in there. My patient has a right to congeniality.”
I pulled my Ruger from my bag and twisted the doorknob.
It turned.
The Fatal Funnel.
It was a police expression for a doorway that had a potential adversary lying in wait on the other side, and it weighed on my mind like a guillotine. Or a coffin with a lock.
Was Craig inside?
Or Domenic?
I took a breath and kicked open the door. Jerked my gun to the nearest corner.
“Holy shit!” a man yelled. “Don’t shoot!”
I pivoted and aimed at a Jim Morrison lookalike in aviator glasses who sat upright on a hospital bed with hands in the air. An IV in his arm was attached to a bag of clear liquid.
I did a quick check of the rest of the gray room. The coffin was gone, replaced by a plastic nightstand.
“You don’t have to worry about me, man. I mean, lady,” he fumbled. “I won’t take another shot for at least a year.”
Shot? Was he talking about his IV drip? I pointed my gun at the bag. “What is that stuff?”
“Saline and vitamins.”
I lowered my gun. “Huh?”
“You know.” Maybe peeked at me with one eye. Her lace French maid hat had fallen over the other. “Like at the Remedy Room?”
I glanced at Jim Morrison for a translation.
He removed his hair but left his sunglasses. “Oh, she means the hydration therapy place on St. Charles.” He’d gone from fearful to jovial in a split second. “Our frat isn’t supposed to be drinking because of a suspension, so the saline flushes out the toxins. I feel a lot better, but I am freaked out about the damage I did to my liver. I’ve probably cut my life short by a decade.”
Because of this case, I’d probably cut my life short too. “Is that what you and your frat brothers do in here? Get saline infusions to cure your hangovers?”
He nodded. “For now, yeah. We’re making it a gaming room, though. Like the Batcave. That’s why we did the rock treatment on the walls.”
Josh Santo had a Batman thing too. What was it about guys and men dressed like bats? “What about blood bags? I thought I saw some in this room during the Halloween party.”
“Nooo.” He waved me off with a grin. “Blood’s not our bag.”
I smacked my Ruger against my palm to let him know I wasn’t joking, but I should have smacked him for that pun.
“If you don’t believe me, check in the nightstand.”
I opened the top drawer. It was filled with packages marked IV Solution Bags, and a Ziploc full of orange pills. “What are these?”
He removed his shades. “Some kind of pain killer?”
“Easter egg dye?” Maybe guessed.
I snorted. The DUDs hunted chicks, not eggs.
I hung on to the pills and searched the other drawers. Nothing. I was willing to believe I’d been wrong about the blood bags, but there was still the question of Craig’s involvement with Thomas. And his whereabouts.
“Those are supplements,” a male voice said.
I spun around and raised my Ruger.
“Whoa. Be cool, all right?” Domenic stood in the doorway in a gray sweat suit. He had headphones around his neck.
I wasn’t ready to trust him. “Hands up. Get over by the bed.”
He complied. “I just came to see what was going on.”
“Me too.” I leveled the gun at his forehead. “So why don’t you tell me where your sidekick is?”
“Craig? None of us have seen him since the day of the party.”
“I was here that night, and your freshman pledge Andrew told me he’d gone to see his grandmother. Is that true?”
“As far as I know.” He looked at his soccer slides. “But she’s not answering her phone. Neither is he.”
I looked at Maybe and bald Jim Morrison for confirmation, and they nodded. “What about his parents? Did you call them?”
“He doesn’t have any,” Domenic said. “He lived with his grandma.”
“You reported him missing, right?”
“He’s my friend.” His tone had gone from nervous to irritated. “I called the cops and talked to the detective who busted up our party.”
Maybe squeezed her arms against her breasts. “He means the dreamy one that was just on TV. Did you know he caught a vampire?”
Disappointment rumbled in me like the thunder outside. Sullivan had gone ahead with the press conference despite my warning. “And have you heard back from the detective?”
“Just that the police are working on finding him. Nothing else.”
I scrutinized Domenic’s face, but I couldn’t tell if he was lying because he always looked
the same. I raised the bag of pills. “I’m taking these with me for testing.”
He bowed his head, which told me he’d lied about them. They weren’t supplements—they were drugs.
I kept my gun trained on him. “I need Craig’s grandmother’s name and number.”
“He’s got it.” Domenic pointed to his brother in the bed.
My gaze shifted, but not my aim. “What’s your name?”
“Jeremy Nickel.”
“Why do you have her number?”
“Because our grandmas are friends. They stayed at the same retirement home until Craig’s grandma moved out about six months ago.”
My chest tightened and so did my grip on my gun. “Belleville House in the Quarter?”
Jeremy’s eyes and mouth went wide. “Dude. Are you psychic?”
“Never mind that. Why’d she leave?”
“Something about an accident with a blood transfusion.”
A chill ran through my veins like a rush of saline solution. It sounded like Craig’s grandmother had experienced the same mistreatment as the dead grandfather Lou had told me about. If so, the nurse who’d taken their blood must have been Raven Smith. And that could only mean one thing.
When Craig met Thomas at Harry’s Bar, it wasn’t to talk about some evil blood plot. It was probably to discuss a settlement, which I was sure Belleville House wouldn’t have wanted to pay.
Had Craig made himself the next target?
A vision of a body hanging by boat shoes flashed like a lightning bolt in my head.
Or was he already dead?
Instinctively, I reached for my phone to call Sullivan. Then I changed my mind. Every time he’d brushed off my questions about Craig, I had assumed it was because he was convinced of Josh’s guilt. But the DUDs had reported Craig missing, and the detective had never mentioned that.
Rain pounded the frat house, and the light in the gray room turned a shade blacker.
Sullivan was hiding something. And I didn’t have much time to figure out what.
18
Linda West examined the bag of orange pills I’d placed on her desk at Pharmanew. “The three and the zero tell me they’re thirty milligrams, but there’s a mark on the other side I don’t recognize.” She twisted her seashell necklace. “I used to be able to ID common meds on sight, but since I became a manager, I’ve lost track of what they look like.”
I leaned forward, hating to leave the fluffy white chair cocoon. “It’s really important that I find out what they are.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Gregg and Raven’s murders, does it?” Her almond eyes grew round, and she pressed her palm to her pink cashmere sweater. “The police held a press conference this morning and said they’d arrested the killer.”
“Don’t worry.” I had to play it vague to avoid contradicting the information the New Orleans PD had made public. “I can’t say anymore, though, because it’s confidential.”
“I understand. You know, I feel so much better knowing that a vampire is off the streets. But, not to speak ill of the dead, I was shocked it wasn’t Raven since she stole that blood from Belleville House.”
I avoided comment and looked pointedly at the pills.
“Who is the man they arrested?”
“Josh Santo.” I glanced up. “He was my client.”
She gasped, and her brow furrowed. “Why would he hire you if he killed those people? To spy on the investigation?”
“In a way,” I hedged.
“Well, thank goodness it’s all over and you’re safe.”
“Yep. Onto the next case.” I concentrated on the bag, hoping she’d get my drift.
Her gaze returned to the pills. “We have several Pharmacy PhDs in our lab, but they don’t deal with oral meds. Your best bet is a pharmacy. They’ll have pill ID software.”
“I’d rather not go that route because they’re probably illegal.”
She glanced at the clock. “I suppose I could try running them by our lab techs. Let me see if anyone’s back from lunch.” She rose and smoothed her pink skirt. “In the meantime, I’ll have my assistant, Christine, whip you up a protein shake. You need to nourish your skin and organs after the stress of that investigation.”
I smiled and wondered if some of the ten or so Hershey’s Kisses I’d taken from the reception candy dish were smeared across my teeth. As much as I wanted to avoid another green juice concoction, I was so hungry that my stomach acid was staging a coup. I’d skipped more than a few meals thanks to the case, not to mention my moocher brother. Even though he couldn’t seem to make it home to hang Glenda’s gutter, he managed to be in my kitchen every time Nonna pulled a dish from the oven.
She glided from the room, and I leaned back in the soft chair and inhaled the scent of the sandalwood candles. Like Glenda’s giant champagne glass, Linda’s office was a retreat from the harsh reality raging outside.
Within seconds, my eyes had closed.
Thunder crashed.
My lids flew open. Danger was lurking. I sensed it in my DNA.
I had to get up. Stay alert.
I went into the lobby to look for Linda. I had to get back to Private Chicks to prepare for the undercover operation at Belleville House, things like testing the equipment and stress-eating about my nonna being involved.
Christine sat at her desk, oblivious to my presence. Apparently, she hadn’t gotten the order to make the shake. Either that or she couldn’t pry her eyes from the Panda Cam livestreaming on her computer.
I grabbed a handful of Kisses from the dish. “So, what’s it like working for Pharmanew?”
“Oh, it’s easy,” she said, still staring at the screen. “And Linda’s super nice—like Girl-Scout-troop-leader level. She bought a cable machine for the office so we can work out. And for birthdays she decorates our desks with glitter, balloons, and chocolate. She even gets us a cake and a bottle of wine.”
“What?” I munched a Kiss. I needed to tell Veronica to up her boss game.
“Yeah. Christmas too. But the best part for me is that she was born in Paris, which is cool because I studied French in college, and I married a guy from France.” Christine tied her blonde locks into a knot. “Don’t tell her I said this, but I don’t want her to get promoted to CEO.”
I peeled the wrapper from a Kiss. “She’s up for a promotion?”
“Yeessss,” she whined. “And I would miss her as my manager.”
If she gave me booze, chocolate, and cake, I’d miss her too.
The sound of high heels clicked in the hallway, and Linda entered with the pills and a shake. “No luck. Only one of our lab techs is in the office, and she didn’t recognize the meds.” She tossed the pills on Christine’s desk and handed me the glass. “Drink this.”
I immediately took a sip. Linda might be tiny, but she had the presence of a drill sergeant.
Christine picked up the bag and turned it over in her hand. “These look like generic Adderall.”
I approached the desk. “The ADD drug?”
She nodded. “When I was in college, it was literally all over campus. Adderall helps you focus whether you have ADD or not. There was a guy in my dorm who exploited his diagnosis, so he could sell his pills to students before exams.”
“That’s terrible.” Linda scowled and turned to me. “My daughter’s in college, and I wouldn’t want her taking that. It’s dangerous to take meds you don’t need.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about with your daughter.” But the DUDs, on the other hand, did. Because I planned to turn the generic Adderall over to the police.
“Did I show you a picture of her?” Linda’s scowl had spread into the smile of a proud mother.
“No, but…” Before I could come up with an escape strategy, she’d strong-armed me to a break room behind the reception area. There was a refrigerator covered with pictures, presumably employee family members.
“That’s Jessica there.” Linda pointed to a photo of h
erself and a young woman posing in front of a party banner that said Happy Mardi Gras. “Isn’t she cute?”
“Adorable,” I replied. But I wasn’t looking at her daughter. My gaze was fixed on the boas the two women wore. They were the same five-dollar brand sold in French Quarter tourist shops that Raven had been wearing the night Gregg died.
But Linda had insisted that she never wore cheap boas because they shed on her clothes. Maybe there was a simple explanation, but it appeared as though she’d lied.
Why wouldn’t she be honest about such a mundane thing?
The sky outside my office window was so dark that I feared it would open up and unload hell on earth, and it was only four thirty in the afternoon. Decatur Street was no less concerning. Rainwater ran in the gutters and threatened to rise, and the sidewalks were unusually tourist-free even for a storm. It was as though nature and New Orleans knew evil was imminent despite Josh Santo’s arrest.
Veronica entered and held up two wire surveillance kits. “Carnie is worried that Thomas might suspect she’s recording him with her phone, so we’re going to spy the old-fashioned way.”
I turned back to the window.
She sighed, and I heard the kits hit my desk.
“I know you’re nervous about your nonna going undercover, but I can’t imagine anything going wrong.”
“It’s not just that.” I began to pace. “Something’s not right with the case. I’m missing a detail or evidence, and I can’t figure out what.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about the picture you saw of Linda and her daughter in the boas, and I’m not sure it’s relevant. That Mardi Gras party could’ve been where she learned those feathers shed and decided never to wear one again.”
“I don’t know.” I sunk into my rolling chair. “Because Linda told me Raven was the only one who wore a boa, but Belinda specifically mentioned wearing one.”
“I’ll bet she meant that Raven was the only one who wore a boa on the Vampires and Victims tour. Belinda went back to the hotel before it started.”
I chewed my thumbnail. “Could be.”
She sat on the edge of the armchair. “You don’t think Linda had something to do with the murders, do you? She did disclose Raven’s past at Belleville House.”
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