6:10 p.m.
Shannon’s Tavern, a blue-collar bar and NOPD hangout, was located in the area of the city called the Irish Channel. Run by a mountain of a man named Shannon, the bar was a fine place to wait out a storm.
If you made it inside before the storm struck.
Spencer and Tony hadn’t. They burst into the tavern, bringing the wind and rain with them. Shannon took one look at them and shook his head. “Cops.”
“Blame John Jr.,” Spencer said, catching the towel the barkeep tossed him. He dried his hair first, then the rest of himself, as best he could, anyway. A call from John Jr. had, indeed, gotten this particular ball rolling. Their mother and father’s fiftieth wedding anniversary was only six months off; they needed to start planning immediately. That John Jr. had been the one to remember hadn’t been a surprise. As oldest of the brood, John Jr. always played the role of the conscientious one.
And thank God he did. With seven of them to organize and corral, it took someone willing to own the job.
Tony had come along because Betty and Carly were shopping for a prom dress, and he was on his own for dinner.
Shannon served more than ice-cold beer; he cooked up some of the best burgers in the city-big, juicy and priced to fit a cop’s wallet.
Quentin and his wife Anna arrived next. Spencer couldn’t have special-ordered a better sister-in-law. He credited her with giving Quentin the confidence to follow his dreams. The rest of the family felt the same way about her as he did.
“Yo, little bro,” Quentin said, slapping him on the back. “Shannon, draft and a mineral water.”
“Anna.” Spencer kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek, then held her at arm’s length. “You look wonderful.”
Three months pregnant with their first child, she radiated joy.
“How’s the writing biz?”
“Murder,” she said, tone dry. “As usual.”
Anna was a successful suspense novelist. She knew Tony through Quentin and happily took the bar stool beside the older cops.
Percy and Patrick trundled in, dripping wet. John Jr. followed moments later. His wife, Julie, a registered nurse, with him. Shauna and Mary followed.
Big, loud and good-looking, the Malone brothers always attracted attention. Mostly from females, but in New Orleans, that wasn’t necessarily a given. The Malone women had learned to use their brothers’ charisma to their own advantage. While all the available women in a given place vied for their brothers’ attention, the Malone girls had taken their pick of everyone else.
More times than not, it worked like a charm.
Tonight, however, they had serious plans to discuss.
“Aunt Patti and Uncle Sammy are coming,” Mary said, kissing each of her brothers on the cheek. “I talked to her on the way over. They’re a couple minutes late.”
“No problem,” Percy said, signaling to Shannon, “we’ve never started a family powwow on time in our lives.”
“I resent that,” John Jr. replied, taking a long swallow of his draft.
“Represent that, you mean,” Patrick, the accountant said, tone dry. “Keep in mind this is tax season. Unlike you guys, I need to pull twelve-hour days for the next month. Let’s get this show going.”
His siblings’ responses ranged from rolled eyes to comments about the world’s smallest violin. Spencer grinned. Patrick, the family’s square peg.
The door burst open and Aunt Patti and Uncle Sammy sloshed in. With them came another rush of wind and rain.
“It’s miserable out there,” she exclaimed, closing her umbrella and dropping it in the stand by the door. “Could you have picked a worse night, John Jr.?”
Her comment was met by whistles and applause. John Jr. flushed. “Without me, this family would fall apart.”
The older couple made the rounds of hugs and kisses. When his aunt reached him, she leaned close. “We have to talk. Tonight. Catch me before you go.”
He frowned at her tone. “What’s up?”
She shook her head slightly, indicating she couldn’t discuss why now. Whatever it was, he could tell, it was about work. And serious.
Two and a half hours later, the group began breaking up. Although loud, unruly and borderline obnoxious, they’d managed to accomplish all they needed to. Plans had been made; each sibling had a job to do. John Jr. expected committee reports within the week.
Spencer looked at his aunt. She signaled he should meet her in the poolroom in back.
He found her there, back to him. When she turned, he frowned. She looked drawn. Her color off.
“Are you all right, Aunt Patti?”
“Fine.” Her no-nonsense tone told him she had her captain hat firmly in place. “PID called on me today.”
Public Integrity Division. The NOPD’s version of Internal Affairs.
He went cold, the past crashing over him. Two years ago, when his last captain called him into the office, two PID guys had been waiting for him.
It’d been an ambush. A PID specialty.
“They were asking about you, Spencer. This case.”
“This case? The White Rab-”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “Why?”
“I don’t know for sure.” She rubbed her chest, almost absently. “He was fishing.”
“Why’s this happening?”
“You tell me.”
“There’s nothing.” He searched his memory. “Everything’s been by the book.”
“There’s more. Chief called me. About you. About the case.”
Not good. The chief’s attention always spelled trouble.
He shook his head again. “Why? I don’t get it.”
She curled her fingers around his forearm. “You and Tony,” she said, voice suddenly strained, “watch your backs.”
Spencer opened his mouth to comment, swallowing the words as her face contorted with pain. “Aunt Patti? What’s wrong?”
She tried to speak but couldn’t. She brought a hand to her chest. Alarmed, he shouted for his uncle and sister-in-law.
The family members came running. Julie took one look at Aunt Patti and shouted for someone to call 911.
Within twenty minutes, Aunt Patti had been sent by ambulance to Touro Infirmary, where the family learned she had suffered a heart attack.
The entire Malone clan had turned out, which explained the floor nurse’s harried expression.
Spencer knew the nurse would need to get used to the crowds; cops took care of their own. His aunt was likely to have visitors 24/7. No doubt some of them would attempt to smuggle in no-no’s. Things like Krispy Kreme doughnuts. And Krystal burgers.
The waiting seemed endless. They finally let Uncle Sammy in to see Patti, then Spencer’s mother, who had just arrived. The rest had to wait.
When the doctor emerged, a guy who looked way too young to be trusted with the care of anyone’s favorite aunt, he explained that she’d had a mild attack, brought on by a blocked artery. They’d given her a clot-busting miracle drug.
“She asked for Spencer,” he said.
“Here.”
The physician looked at him. “You a cop?”
“I am.”
“No talking business. I don’t want her worked up.”
“You got it, Doc.”
Spencer entered his aunt’s room. For such a tough bird, she looked pretty damn vulnerable.
She smiled weakly. “I feel like I went head to head with one badass perp.”
“Doctor says you’ve got a blocked artery. Gave you some wonder drug that’s supposed to solve the problem. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about…me. You-”
“Shh.” He found her hand, squeezed it. “I can take care of myself.”
“But-”
He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be careful. The investigation is on track. Tony and I will make certain it stays that way. You concentrate on getting better. That’s your job right now.”
She dozed off; Spencer
stayed with her, watching her as she slept.
Watch your backs.
Those three little words brought back that terrible time when everywhere he turned, he faced suspicion, and everyone seemed to be gunning for him.
Why had he caught the attention of the chief and PID?
The nurse poked her head into the room. “Time’s up, Mr. Malone.”
He nodded, brushed a kiss across his aunt’s forehead and returned to the waiting area.
Tony and several of the other guys had arrived. They had all paid their respects to Uncle Sammy and were huddled together, talking.
Spencer took Tony aside. “Tonight, Aunt Patti said we’ve attracted the attention of the chief. And PID.”
Tony’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“She didn’t know. They were questioning her about the White Rabbit case.”
The older man scowled. “Friggin’ Pogo had to surface at the French Quarter.”
Spencer nodded. “Thing is, that still doesn’t explain PID’s involvement. They’re usually interested in improprieties.”
“Let me nose around. See if anybody’s heard anything.”
John Jr. waved Spencer over. Spencer started for him, then looked back at his partner. “You do that. And keep me posted.”
CHAPTER 38
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
9:30 a.m.
Alice popped into the kitchen. Her gaze touched on Stacy, then jumped to the housekeeper. “I’m going to run to Café Noir for a moccaccino.”
Stacy searched her memory. Alice frequented Café Noir? Had she ever seen the girl there? A lot of kids hung out at Café Noir, mostly at night and right after school. She didn’t remember having seen her.
The housekeeper, standing at the sink, looked over her shoulder at the girl. “What about your morning lessons?”
“Haven’t started yet. Mr. Dunbar’s pukey today. Asked if I’d mind a late start.”
Clearly, Alice was delighted. The thought crossed Stacy’s mind that poor Mr. Dunbar may have been poisoned.
The housekeeper sent Stacy an uneasy glance, then turned back to the teenager. “Your parents left strict orders that you’re not to go out alone. If you give me a few minutes, I’ll-”
The teenager flushed. “Café Noir is less than six blocks away! Surely they didn’t mean-”
“I’m sorry, hon, but with everything that’s happened-”
“This is so freakin’ bogus!”
“I’ll go with you,” Stacy said, standing. “I could use the walk.”
“No, thanks.” Alice glared at her. “I’d rather do without.”
“Your choice.” She shrugged. “But I really do need the walk. Shall I bring you one back?”
The teenager stared at her a moment, eyes narrowed. “Fine. But I’m not going with you. You walk behind me.”
Somebody, it seemed, did not like to be thwarted.
Stacy hid her amusement. “Whatever.”
Within minutes, the two were nearing Café Noir. As promised, Stacy had stayed several paces behind Alice. She hadn’t promised to keep her distance at the coffeehouse, but she planned to spring that fact on the teenager when the time came.
When Stacy entered the coffeehouse, Alice was already at the counter ordering. Billie looked up and smiled in greeting.
“Hey, girl,” she called. “Long time no see. What gives?”
“Been busy.” Stacy reached the counter; Alice scowled at her. “Billie, this is Alice, Leonardo Noble’s daughter.”
Billie smiled at the teen. “No kidding. Now I can put a name with the face.”
Alice stuck a straw in her super grande frozen moccaccino. “See ya.”
Stacy watched her walk away, then looked at Billie. “It’s the teenage version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
Billie arched an eyebrow. “More Hyde than Jekyll, apparently.”
“She come in here much?”
“Sometimes.”
“She and Cassie ever talk?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Stacy didn’t know which surprised her more, her own uttered thought or Billie’s answer. “She and Cassie knew each other?”
“They weren’t friends, but I think they spoke. The usual?”
Stacy realized Billie meant her usual drink, and she shook her head. “An iced coffee. Tall.”
Billie nodded, made the drink, slid it across the counter and waved away her attempt to pay for it. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” She frowned, thoughts still on Cassie and Alice. “When you say they talked, do you mean more than ‘Hello’ and ‘How are you?’”
“They discussed gaming.”
RPGs. Of course. After that thought came another. Could Alice be the one who promised to introduce Cassie to White Rabbit?
“What’s going on?” Billie lowered her voice. “Where the hell have you been? And don’t give that ‘been busy’ crap.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that no one was within earshot. “Life’s gotten a little weird since we last talked. The White Rabbit openly claimed a victim, a woman named Rosie Allen. From the calling card he left the Nobles yesterday, two more victims are on the way. And did I mention, I was welcomed to the game?”
“The game?” she repeated. “Back up, girlfriend. Way, way up.”
“You remember me telling you that Leo Noble believed someone, maybe a troubled fan, had begun playing his game White Rabbit for real? That he had received disturbing cards that indicated he had been entered into the killer-takes-all scenario?”
The other woman said she did, and Stacy continued. “One of the cards depicted a mouse-like creature drowning. A woman named Rosie Allen was found drowned in her bathtub. The killer left a message at the scene. Poor little mouse drowned in a pool of her own tears. The woman had a connection to Noble. She did alteration work for the family.
“Saturday, he left another calling card at the Nobles-‘The roses are red now.’ The message was written in blood.”
For a long moment Billie was silent. When she finally spoke, her tone was hushed, as if to keep an employee or customer from hearing. “Stop screwing around, Stacy. You’re not a cop. You don’t have the support of a police force behind you.”
“Too late. Apparently, I’ve caught the killer’s fancy. Thursday night he welcomed me to the game. Left me a cat’s head. The Cheshire Cat, I’m assuming. I’ve temporarily moved in with the Nobles to keep an eye-”
“Dammit, Stacy, you’re playing with-”
“Fire? Tell me about it.” She glanced toward the front porch. Alice was sitting at one of the outdoor tables. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait!” Billie caught her hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful or I swear, I’ll kick your butt.”
Stacy smiled. “I care about you, too. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She headed out front and crossed to Alice. “Want some company?”
“No.”
Stacy sat, anyway. The teenager made a sound, an exasperated huff. Stacy fought a smile. Her mother used to make a sound just like that. When she or Jane had been being particularly unreasonable.
“I saw you checking Troy out,” Alice said suddenly.
“Really? When was that?”
“Yesterday. Outside.”
When she had looked up to find Alice watching her.
“Don’t bother to deny it, all the women do it. Even my mom.”
Interesting. Could Kay have the hots for the good-looking chauffeur?
She sipped her iced coffee. “How about you, Alice? Do you check him out?”
The girl flushed. “You’d be wasting your time on him. He’s gay.”
Could be, Stacy acknowledged. But she didn’t think so.
“Gay or not, he’s easy on the eyes.”
The girl frowned. “Aren’t you going to ask how I know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Truth was, she had a pretty good idea what the truth was. Alice was infatuated wi
th the man. She had flirted with him; he’d rebuffed her. She was either labeling him gay to assuage her hurt feelings, or to discourage other women’s interest in him.
“Because I don’t care.”
She saw by the teenager’s expression that she didn’t like her answer. “I know about your sister,” she said. “About that boater who almost killed her.”
“And?”
She was silent a moment. “Nothing. I just know, that’s all.”
“Would you like to ask me about it?”
She wanted to say “No,” Stacy could tell. But curiosity got the better of her.
“Okay.”
“We skipped school. Or I should say, Jane skipped school with me and some of my friends. It was March, and still pretty cold. We dared her to swim.”
“And a boater hit her?” Alice said, her eyes wide.
“Yes. He deliberately ran her down. Or so it seemed. He was never caught.” Stacy drew a deep breath. “She nearly died. It was…awful.”
The teenager leaned forward. “Her face was really messed up, huh?”
“That’s an understatement, actually.”
“I saw a picture of her. She looks normal.”
“Now. Because of many, many surgeries.”
Alice sucked on her straw. “She blamed you, didn’t she?”
Stacy shook her head. “No, Alice. I blamed myself.”
They sipped their coffees in silence. After a moment, Alice frowned. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”
She said the words almost grudgingly. As if she knew upfront they would tell Stacy more about her than she wanted her to know. But even so, she couldn’t help herself.
In that moment, Stacy realized just how lonely Alice Noble was.
“It’s pretty great,” Stacy offered. “Now. Though we weren’t always close. In fact, for years we hardly spoke.”
Alice looked fascinated. “How come?”
“Lots of misunderstandings and hurt feelings.”
“Because of what happened to her?”
“There were other things that contributed as well, but yes. I’ll tell you about them sometime.”
Alice sucked on the straw, expression eager. “But you’re close now?”
“She’s my best friend. She had a baby in October. Her first. Apple Annie,” Stacy smiled. “That’s my pet name for her. She has the roundest, pinkest cheeks.”
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