The gun and his display of temper convinced me this wasn’t a good time to come clean about my true identity, so I just shrugged, as if I wasn’t bothered by the gun he’d pulled on me or how he’d destroyed my cell phone. “I told you. I’m looking for something my husband and I left behind when we checked out.”
“I don’t believe you. What are you really looking for?”
The way I saw it, I had two choices: tell the truth, or lie through my teeth. Lying didn’t seem to be working all that well, but I wasn’t convinced the truth would serve me any better. How would he react if I told him I was looking for proof that Primrose had killed Dontae? Especially since I was now sure that evidence didn’t exist?
There was a third option: Run! But I put my chances of outrunning a bullet right at no way in hell.
I wondered if Grey was using new ammunition or old, and if it would make any difference if he decided to pull the trigger. If that was the gun he’d used during the Letterman Industries robbery, there was a chance he didn’t have any ammunition at all. But that wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
He was waiting for an answer, so I decided to try my luck with option number two: the truth. “I was looking for proof that Primrose put the poison in Dontae’s food.”
“You thought Primrose killed him?” He seemed honestly surprised.
“I did,” I said, mentally adding, right up until you pulled out that gun. “I’m confused. Why did you do it? Was it because you found out that Dontae killed Tyrone in the robbery?”
His brows knit in confusion. “Dontae? You think—” He let out a sharp laugh. And that’s when I realized that once again I’d been on the wrong trail. The light dawned as if storm clouds had parted inside my head. “Dontae didn’t kill Tyrone, did he? You did. But why did you kill Dontae now? Why was he a threat to you after all this time?”
“I just wanted to keep things the way they were,” he said. His hand trembled, which meant that he was either emotional or nervous. Either way, I didn’t think it was a good sign. “There was no reason to dig up the past. Everything was copacetic.”
Thirty years living in a bed-and-breakfast? No wife? No family? That didn’t sound copacetic to me, but nobody had asked my opinion. “But Dontae wasn’t responsible for digging up the past,” I pointed out. “So why kill him?”
“Because he was scared,” Grey said. His voice was filled with disgust. “Oh, he put up a good act, but that was Dontae for you. When things got hairy, he panicked. The very minute Monroe came back, Dontae started imagining cops everywhere. He was even dreaming about going to jail, expecting the worst just like he always did. He came to me one night after Monroe showed up, whining about what he thought might happen. I tried to convince him that everything would be all right, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Well, I did. I listened intently to every word that came out of Grey’s mouth. But I was also trying to figure out a way to save myself. I still couldn’t see a way to slip past him to freedom, and I couldn’t see anything I could use as a weapon either. I decided my only chance was to attract attention so I could get help. Until I could figure out how to do that, I needed to keep Grey talking. If he was thinking about answers to my questions, maybe he wouldn’t be thinking about pulling the trigger.
“Why was Dontae worried about what Monroe would do?” I asked.
Grey dipped his head slightly. “I told you, he always ran scared. A man that size . . . you’d think he could hold his own, but he was afraid of his own shadow. Monroe opened his yap at the warehouse, and Dontae went ballistic. If he hadn’t gone crazy like that, I never would have shot Tyrone.”
His eyes looked a little wild, and the gun shook in his hand. “I did what I had to do in that warehouse. If I hadn’t shot Tyrone, one of us woulda been dead. I protected the rest of ’em. That’s the way it’s always been.”
Yeah. Right up until the moment you poisoned your friend. “I don’t understand. Why kill Dontae instead of, say, Monroe? I thought Dontae was your friend.”
“I just told you!” Grey shouted. “You’re like everyone else. You’re not listening.” He swiped sweat from his eyes and readjusted his aim. “Dontae went crazy after Monroe showed up. Oh, sure. I could have gotten rid of Monroe. That was my plan at first, but Dontae was nuts by then. If I’d taken Monroe out of the way, Dontae would have turned me in. After everything we’d been through together, he got scared and turned on me.”
“I am listening,” I assured him as calmly as I could. “I’m just trying to understand. Why poison? Why didn’t you just shoot him?”
Grey’s gaze flickered down to the gun. “I never would have gotten the drop on him.”
“So you put something in his food?”
“I told you. I did what I had to do.”
If you say so. “Where did you get the poison?”
He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What does it matter? It was lying around in the garage. Something Hyacinth used to kill bugs or something.” His gun hand shook a little harder. He waved the pistol around in front of my face, threatening me. “Look, Mrs. Broussard, you’re a nice lady. I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t have any choice. You understand.”
Um . . . not really. “But you do have a choice, Grey. Why don’t you just put the gun down? Then we can figure out what to do next.”
“No ma’am. You’re just trying to trick me.”
“No, I’m trying to save us both.”
He choked out a laugh. “You can’t save me.”
He might be right, but I needed him to hold on to hope. Otherwise, he’d figure he had nothing to lose and I’d be leaving the Love Nest in a body bag.
“It’s never too late,” I said. I kept my voice low and soothing, but inside I was screeching like a banshee, trying to send a subliminal message across the miles to Sullivan—Check your voice mail!—and kicking myself for not letting Gabriel, or anyone else, know that I was coming back to the Love Nest.
I tried again to keep Grey talking. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened with Dontae that night? Maybe there are extenuating circumstances. You said that you were trying to stop him from hurting the others, isn’t that right?”
Grey removed his cap and tucked it beneath his arm, then wiped away a band of sweat that had formed under the hot wool. “I’m not a child, Mrs. Broussard. I know the law. I understand my position.”
“Well then, try to understand mine.” Confessing the truth was a huge risk, but I had to do something. Letting a crazy man with a gun think he was boxed in with no options wasn’t working for me. “I’m working with the police, investigating Monroe Magee’s reappearance after all these years and helping with the investigation into Dontae’s murder.”
Okay, so it wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough.
Grey’s gun hand dropped a fraction of an inch, and uncertainty flickered across his face. But that only lasted a second before he tightened his bead on me. “You lied to us?”
I gaped at him in disbelief. “You shot one man and poisoned another,” I reminded him. “I don’t think you can claim the moral high ground here. I’m a friend of Monroe’s brother. He asked me to make sure the man who wrote to him really was his brother.”
For the second time in thirty seconds, Grey’s aim wobbled a little. “You know Old Dog Leg?”
I grasped at the hope that I’d found something that might help me. “He’s a good friend. Do you know him?”
The cap slipped from under Grey’s arm and fell to the ground, but he didn’t seem to notice. “He was one of the best horn blowers around. That man could really jam.”
“He still can,” I said.
Grey ran a sleeve across his forehead. He seemed nervous, which worried me. A nervous man with a loaded gun could mean real trouble for the person in the gun’s crosshairs.
“Tell me what happened the night Dontae died,” I urged again.
Grey mopped his forehead again and loosened the button on his collar. “I told you. Dontae said—I—�
�� He broke off and made a funny noise. “I—” Sweat poured off his face, and he put his free hand up to his chest.
“Grey? Are you all right?”
He staggered a little and slumped against the wall of the garage. “I think I—” His eyes grew wider, wilder, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.
“I think I’m having a heart attack!” he said, and then he collapsed to the ground.
Thirty-four
Grey hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and all I could do was stare down at him. Was he kidding me? A heart attack?
My brain churned slowly while I tried to process what had just happened. Grey. Heart. Gun. Panic!
It seemed to take forever for my thoughts to begin connecting. When they finally did, I vaulted toward Grey, kicked the gun out of reach, and then hunkered down beside him to check for a pulse.
Nothing.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Grey? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
Nada.
I put my ear by his nose and mouth and tried to pick up the sound of his breathing. If any air was getting in or out, I sure couldn’t hear it.
“Help! Somebody! I need help over here!”
I’d had some CPR training. Once. A long time ago. Trying to recall the instructions for saving a person’s life was like trying to find a toothpick in a pile of sludge. Time seemed to crawl, but I knew my perspective was off. How long had he been lying there? Too long? Could I save him?
Should I?
The man was a confessed murderer. He’d poisoned a friend, and if his heart hadn’t dropped him, he probably would have shot me. But I couldn’t just let him die. My conscience wouldn’t let me. Logical or not, I had to do everything I could to save him.
A wisp of memory floated to the surface. Something about making sure his airways were clear and unobstructed. I did my best to position his head the way I thought it should be, but I still couldn’t hear him breathing.
I shouted for help again as I tried to remember how to position my hands on his chest. The heel of my hand in the middle of his chest. Was that right?
“Somebody,” I shouted, “call 911! We need an ambulance now!”
How many breaths? How many compressions? My mind was a blank. Would I hurt him if I did this wrong? Would he die if I didn’t?
I put one hand over the other and pushed. His chest compressed, and I felt a distinct pop beneath my hand. I stopped pushing, and his chest snapped back into position. Had I pressed too hard, or not hard enough?
Frantic to save him, I shoved aside the self-doubt and threw myself into the task. Ten compressions. Twenty. I did thirty for good measure and then pinched his nose and covered his mouth with my own.
I blew into his lungs hard enough to make his chest rise. Once. Twice. As I quieted my mind, the lessons I’d learned crystallized. Thirty compressions. Two rescue breaths. I focused my energy on counting and breathing over and over again. My arms and lungs ached, and I prayed alternately that Grey would wake up and that he wouldn’t throw up in my mouth when he did.
After what felt like forever, I heard sirens, then footsteps pounding up the driveway. Someone pulled me away from Grey, and someone else took over the CPR.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
I looked into the concerned brown eyes of a young Hispanic woman in uniform. “Is he alive?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. Someone’s working on him now. Can you tell me what happened?”
I shook my head and felt my limbs begin to shake. “I think he had a heart attack.”
“Your name, ma’am?”
“Rita. Lucero.” My legs buckled, and tears filled my eyes. “Is he going to be all right?”
“We’re doing our best, ma’am. Do you know his name?”
“Grey Washington.” My throat hurt, and my mouth felt like someone had filled it with ash. I wondered where his gun had gone, and I wondered what was going to happen to him now. He’d admitted to killing Dontae, and I honestly think he would have killed me, but for some reason I couldn’t understand I still hated the thought of him going to prison.
I heard voices and I turned, catching sight of Hyacinth, Primrose, and Lula Belle huddled together near the garage. They looked terrified, and my heart twisted for them.
Heavy footsteps sounded somewhere behind me, and then Sullivan was there, pulling me close in his strong arms. “Rita! Are you okay?”
I choked back a sob and collapsed against him, relishing the safety of being with him. I tried to nod, but it took some effort to get my head moving. “He did it,” I croaked. “Grey killed Dontae. He was going to shoot me. His gun is somewhere around here.”
“I tried calling when I got your message,” he said. “The call went straight to voice mail.”
“My phone’s around here somewhere, too. In a million pieces.”
He pressed me away from him and looked me over carefully. His eyes were strong and gentle at the same time. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I didn’t think I had time.”
“You could have been killed.”
I managed a weak smile. “Yeah, I got that.”
He brushed a lock of hair from my forehead, his fingers lingering for a fraction of a second. And then he covered my mouth with his and kissed me thoroughly. I responded with great enthusiasm, and it was a few minutes before either of us spoke again.
“I should have known you’d do more than ask a few questions,” he said when we came up for air.
“Yeah,” I said. Thanks to his unique brand of CPR, I felt a little stronger now. “You should have.” I tried to stand on my own, but my legs felt like rubber. “Do you think I could sit down somewhere? Otherwise, you may need to call the paramedics for me, too.”
Sullivan actually looked a little sheepish. “Of course. I want them to check you out anyway.”
It wasn’t until we turned to walk down the driveway that I caught the shocked expression on Hyacinth’s face and the scandalized look on Primrose’s. Apparently, they had objections to a new bride kissing a man who wasn’t her husband. Lula Belle, on the other hand, looked impressed. She even gave me a discreet thumbs-up as Sullivan and I passed.
I guess we shameless hussies have to stick together.
Thirty-five
Sullivan followed me home and stuck around for a while that evening to make sure I was really okay. I spent Thursday morning at work and most of the afternoon at the police station answering questions and giving my official statement about my encounter with Grey. On Friday, I spent several hours locked up with Miss Frankie, Thaddeus, and a real estate agent.
After some debate, Miss Frankie had decided to sell a lot and small office building located on Poydras, but both Thaddeus and the real estate agent had warned us that the transaction could take a while. Selling the property would ultimately provide a fix for Zydeco, but the next few months might still be touch-and-go. Miss Frankie was still adamantly opposed to making the changes Ox had suggested at the bakery, but I hadn’t had a chance to tell him that yet. Or maybe I’d just neglected to take the chance. To paraphrase Scarlett O’Hara a little, tomorrow was bound to be a better day.
By the time the meeting ended, I was ready for life to get back to normal so I drove straight to the Dizzy Duke. I still didn’t know how to clear the air with Gabriel, but the Magee brothers would be performing together for the first time in forty years, and I wasn’t going to let a little awkwardness keep me away.
Grey had survived his heart attack, but he was still in pretty rough shape. The prognosis for recovery was good, but I was concerned about the others at the Love Nest. Every one of them had been involved in the robbery and murder in some way, either by actively taking part or by covering it up later. I wondered what would happen to them now.
I’m a big believer in the concept of facing up to the consequences of our choices, but I wasn’t sure that hauling the whole senior citizen gang to prison was the right solution in this case. Maybe it wa
s a good thing that I wasn’t the one who had to make the decision. I’m not sure I could have done it.
Just thinking about what was going to happen to all those old people had given me a stress headache, so when I walked into the Duke I made a beeline for the bar. I claimed an empty bar stool, snagged a bowl of peanuts to munch on, and waited for Gabriel to notice me. I’d been avoiding him for days, but I didn’t have Dontae’s murder and the search for Monroe to distract me any longer. It was time to put on my big-girl panties and clear the air.
It took him about thirty seconds. He tossed a coaster onto the bar in front of me and treated me to a Sexy Cajun smile that made me think we would be okay. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up.”
“I was in a meeting and it ran a little late, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
He searched my face for a moment. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks. Look, I’m sorry about what happened the other night. I didn’t lie to you. I just—” I broke off, uncertain how to finish that sentence. I took a deep breath and tried again. “Thanks for caring. I don’t always handle it well, but I do appreciate it.”
“Good to know.” He leaned across the bar and kissed me quickly.
I relaxed into him, savoring the sensation. He moved away sooner than I’d have liked. I hid my disappointment and asked, “Does this mean we’re okay?”
“Oh, we’re not finished with this conversation,” he said. “But this isn’t the time or the place for all the things I plan to say.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I didn’t want to worry about anything tonight so I filed his cryptic warning away for later and tried to relax. Behind me, the band was just finishing its first set of the night. After a short break, Old Dog Leg and Monroe would be taking the stage and the Magee brothers would be performing together for the first time in forty years. “How are the brothers doing? Have you seen them?”
Gabriel nodded toward a table near the stage. “They’re over there. Monroe’s a little nervous, I think. Dog Leg’s cool. They’ve been here most of the afternoon, running through their set and catching up between songs.”
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