by Jana DeLeon
“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ida Belle said. “You expect us to believe that Willie hid the key in a stranger’s SUV instead of just putting it under a rock somewhere at his house?”
John shrugged. “He was high. It was past quitting time and he’d already had a hit.”
“Willie was dipping into your product?” I asked.
“No,” John said. “Willie wasn’t dealing. Just me and Bart was. Willie was our friend from way back. We boosted cars together. That’s all.”
“If Willie was only a car boost,” I asked, “then why did he go to prison for dealing?”
“He was in the club with us every night, and yeah, he might have handed someone a bag when we were really busy, but he didn’t get paid for it. We sold him product at cost and took it out of our cut.”
“So when the cops caught you boosting cars together,” I said, “they assumed you were trying to leave town and took Willie down along with you.”
John nodded and stared at the ground. “He was a good guy. I mean, yeah, he did too much drugs and all, but he didn’t deserve to go to prison for it, and he damned sure didn’t deserve to die.”
“Okay, so if Willie hid the key in the Blazer, then why were you arrested boosting Escalades?”
“Willie forgot what vehicle he put the key in,” John said.
“Jesus Christ,” Big said, finally speaking. “My IQ has dropped just listening to this. Could someone be any more stupid?”
I shook my head. This was even more of a mess than I could have imagined. “This is your brain on drugs, gentlemen. So you three went up ten years for dealing. Why look for the evidence now? You’ve served your time.”
“We needed money,” John said. “We didn’t know how much Gary left, but anything was more than we had.”
“And we wanted to know,” Bart said, breaking his silence. “We wanted to know who set us up.”
“You wanted revenge,” I said.
Bart shrugged. “So?”
He might not be bright, and he didn’t fall into the decent guy category and probably never would, but I didn’t blame him. I would have wanted to know too, and I was honest enough to admit that revenge would have been one of my top goals.
“Willie knew Hot Rod had bought the SUV,” I said. “How did he find out?”
“He saw an auction paper with the SUV on it,” John said.
I raised my eyebrows. “So the SUV that he couldn’t remember ten years before suddenly stood out on a sheet of paper with a bunch of other vehicles on it?”
John nodded. “There was something about the grille. He said when he saw it, he knew immediately that was the right one. He still had some contacts in the business and found out Hot Rod bought the SUV.”
“So Willie broke into Hot Rod’s place,” I said.
“Yeah, but not Sunday night,” John said. “It must have been before then.”
“How can you be certain of that?” Ida Belle asked.
I looked at the pained expression on the brothers’ faces. “Because Willie was already dead, right?”
John looked down at the floor and nodded. “We had a message from him Sunday that he’d broken into Hot Rod’s shop the night before. The SUV was gone but he knew who had bought it. He wanted us to come over that night and work out a plan to boost it.”
“But someone else decided to chat with him first,” I said. “Then why didn’t that person go straight to Ida Belle’s house and steal the SUV? Why go back to Hot Rod’s place when the SUV wasn’t there any longer?”
“I don’t know,” John said. “All we could figure was that Willie lied and told them the SUV was still at Hot Rod’s place.”
I nodded. “Thinking it would buy you time to steal the right vehicle. Willie didn’t count on being killed.”
I stepped closer to them and leaned down a bit. “Then if you two didn’t shoot Willie and attempt to kill Hot Rod, who did?”
They glanced at each other, then back at me, and I could tell they didn’t have an answer. Not a concrete one. Finally, John spoke.
“I guess whoever set us up,” he said. “I mean, no one else would care, right?”
“I don’t know. What happened to Gary Thibodeaux?” I asked.
John shook his head. “I guess he left like he told Willie.”
I looked over at Big. “Can we speak for a minute outside?”
He nodded and everyone not duct-taped to a chair trailed outside the storage unit far enough away so that we wouldn’t be overheard.
“Do you believe all of that?” Gertie asked.
“I think I do,” I said, and looked over at Big and Little, who both nodded.
“Let’s assume this Patrick Marion was looking into drug trafficking in the French Quarter, and one or more of the major players invited him to back off,” I said. “Assuming he refused, killing his kid is one way to change his mind. Most people have more than one loved one to lose, and when they find out just how serious the warning was, they usually take heed.”
“Filthy animals,” Big said. “It’s why we hate drug traffickers. They have no code.”
“Family, especially children,” Little said, “should never be made part of business, but unfortunately, the scenario you set forward is entirely plausible and likely exactly what happened.”
“It had to be their supplier, right?” Ida Belle asked. “He’s taking heat from the cop, and the brothers were expendable.”
Big nodded. “That makes the most sense.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but there’s also the cop. If he thought there was a chance the brothers were telling the truth and it was a setup, he’d also have a vested interest in knowing who the real killer was.”
“But would a cop do that sort of thing?” Gertie asked.
“Cops go rogue,” Ida Belle said. “Having your kid killed is enough to do it.”
Little tapped on his phone. “Doesn’t appear to be a lot on Marion on the Internet, but I can make some calls tomorrow and see if I can find out anything.” He turned his phone around to us. “It’s an old picture, but here he is.”
We leaned forward to look at the image, and I frowned. The guy in the picture was around forty and completely average-looking, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen him somewhere before. I started rolling through the events since Monday morning and gasped.
“That’s the deputy,” I said. “The one from Mudbug who was guarding Hot Rod’s place.”
Everyone stared at me.
“You’re sure?” Big asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s older now, of course, but that was him. I’m certain.”
Big shook his head. “Convenient that he just happened to be on location.”
“Not convenient,” I said. “Carter said this guy called and offered help in case they needed some extra hands. The local law enforcement likes to avoid calling in the state if they can help it.”
“But if he’s the one who broke in the night before,” Gertie asked, “why would he come back to the scene of the crime?”
“He didn’t find what he was looking for,” I said. “Or he wanted a solid reason for his DNA to be at the scene.”
Little nodded. “And if he wasn’t the one who broke in before, he might have been hoping to find evidence of who did.”
“So now there are two,” Ida Belle said. “The cop and the supplier.”
“Then let’s find out who the supplier was,” I said.
We all trailed back into the storage unit. The brothers had moved beyond looking uneasy and were drifting toward panic. They probably thought we were outside discussing whether or not to kill them.
“Who was the supplier?” I asked.
John shook his head. “We don’t know.”
“You have to know,” I said. “Someone gave you drugs in return for cash.”
“We only dealt with Gary,” John said. “He didn’t want to work the crowd, so he hired us to do it.”
More likely Gary wanted his ow
n plausible deniability if the brothers were busted. If the cops couldn’t find anyone who bought drugs directly from Gary, it would be his word against the brothers if there was an arrest.
“You never saw anyone?” I asked. “Gary never mentioned a name?”
“I saw a guy once,” John said, “and asked who he was, but Gary said he was just a delivery boy. Honestly, I don’t think he wanted to know that kind of stuff. He always said the less everybody knew, the better.”
I frowned. It was certainly possible that Gary didn’t know who was ultimately running the show, especially since it appeared he had a desire to keep his own hands clean. Maybe being framed for murder had caused him to take a closer look into things he should have long before. Maybe that’s why he had evidence to hide.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s just say we take your story at face value for now. The only way we keep believing it is if we catch the real killer. That means we need the evidence that Gary hid. So what’s the name on the crypt?”
“We don’t know,” John said. “If we knew that, we would have just broken the lock on it. We figure Gary told Willie when he gave him the key, but…”
“Willie forgot.” I sighed.
“Do you at least know what cemetery?” I asked.
John nodded. “Metairie.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “It had to be one of the biggest.”
“Yeah,” John said, “between that and the name…I mean, do you know how many Thibodeaux are buried there? We started hunting down the Thibodeaux crypts and breaking in but on the second night someone took a couple shots at us.”
I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie. “Does that cemetery have night patrol?”
“I don’t think so,” Ida Belle said. “But I haven’t been out there in at least a decade.”
“Who was doing the shooting?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” John said, “but we wasn’t sticking around to find out. We figured if we found the key then we could go proper-like during the day.”
I struggled a bit to keep from laughing at the use of the word “proper.” There was absolutely nothing proper about any of this. If anything it was a campaign for anti-proper.
I looked back at Big. “Well?”
“You’re the producer of this show,” Big said. “How would you like to proceed?”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I already knew what I was doing, and a hundred bucks said Gertie and Ida Belle were right there with me.
“I think that if you’re willing to host these two for a bit longer, a trip to Metairie cemetery is in order. This ten-year-old mystery ends now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I awakened far earlier than I should have, especially given that I hadn’t gone to bed until almost 4:00 a.m. By the time I finished questioning the Seal brothers and making plans with Big for our journey to Metairie cemetery, hours had passed. Fortunately, we’d gotten back into the house without incident and it didn’t appear that Carter was aware we’d ever been gone.
I took a quick shower and headed downstairs for much-needed coffee. Despite the fact that it was only 8:00 a.m., Gertie and Ida Belle were both sitting in the kitchen, looking the way I felt. Given the amount of ground we had to cover, literally, it wasn’t a good sign. I lifted a hand and headed for the coffeepot, then plopped into my chair with a full mug.
“So,” I said after I’d had my first few sips. “Who’s looking forward to walking miles through a cemetery?”
Gertie grimaced. “My knees just cringed. Both of them.”
“Well, you better load up on Ace bandages and Aleve,” Ida Belle said. “Either that or consider sitting this one out.”
“No way!” Gertie said.
“I didn’t figure,” Ida Belle said. “You know there could be shooting, right? The Seal brothers said someone took shots at them.”
“Which is why we’re going in daylight,” Gertie said. “And with backup. Ohhhhhh, maybe we should go in disguise.”
“What kind of disguise does one wear to the cemetery?” I asked.
“Nuns would be good,” Gertie said. “You can carry all kinds of weapons under those robes.”
“Absolutely not,” Ida Belle said. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to run when you were dressed as a nun?”
“That could have happened to anyone,” Gertie said.
“No costumes,” I said. “Ida Belle’s right. They inhibit running. We need to dress for speed. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that, but we know better than to assume. So everyone needs to wear their most comfortable and coolest attire and best running shoes.”
“But what about the weapons part?” Gertie asked.
“We have no need to bring an armory,” I said. “We’ve got Mannie.”
“That’s true,” Gertie said. “He’s sorta like having a tank along with you.”
Ida Belle’s phone rang, and she looked down at it and frowned. “It’s Myrtle. She should be in bed asleep.”
Myrtle had worked the four to midnight shift the day before, so if she was calling this early, something was wrong. I watched Ida Belle’s expression shift from puzzled to concerned and prayed that whatever it was didn’t interfere with our scheduled trip. So far, the Heberts had made good on their word not to harm the Seal brothers until we could sort everything out, but if left to their own devices for too long, I worried about the brothers’ outlook.
Ida Belle disconnected the call and put her phone down on the table. “Ralph committed suicide.”
“What?”
“Oh my God!”
Gertie and I spoke at the same time.
“Why? How?” Gertie asked. “Did it happen last night? Is that why Myrtle knows?”
“The temp they have filling in days was sick,” Ida Belle said, “so Myrtle had to cover this morning. Apparently, Lucinda was trying to get a hold of Ralph but he wouldn’t return her calls. She got worried and went over. She has a key.”
“Oh no,” Gertie said. “Lucinda found him?”
Ida Belle nodded. “Gunshot to the temple, sitting in his office chair.”
Gertie shook her head. “Myrtle told me last week that she overheard Ralph on his cell phone talking to someone about an audit. She said he sounded worried. I wonder if that had something to do with it?”
I frowned. “Did Myrtle say how long he’d been dead?”
Ida Belle looked at me. “No. Why?”
I shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”
“With you, it’s never nothing,” Ida Belle said. “Out with it.”
“I don’t have anything concrete,” I said. “It just feels a little strange, the timing of it all. The Seal brothers get out of prison, ask Ralph for money, and then Ralph kills himself? I mean, I’ve met the guy for twenty seconds, so you’d have to tell me if you think this sounds in line with what you know about him.”
Ida Belle frowned and looked at Gertie, whose brow was scrunched in concentration.
“I suppose you don’t ever really know a person,” Ida Belle said, “but if you’d asked me before today if I thought Ralph was the type who’d kill himself, I would have said absolutely not.”
Gertie nodded. “He’s never struck me as unstable. A bore, absolutely, but most people don’t kill themselves because others find them boring. But what about the audit? I’m no accountant, but could something be so wrong that he pulled the trigger?”
“Maybe,” I said. “People have definitely lost their minds over the IRS, but what’s the worst thing that can happen—he goes to jail for doing hinky things on people’s taxes? Shouldn’t he wait for a conviction before he goes the ultimate checkout route?”
“You don’t think the Seal brothers killed him, do you?” Ida Belle asked.
“They’re desperate,” I said, “and not very smart, but I think they’re capable of killing someone, especially if they feel they’re backed into a corner.”
Ida Belle nodded, her expression grim. “Then maybe we should have a visit with Lucinda be
fore we head to the cemetery.”
Ida Belle knocked twice before we heard movement inside Lucinda’s house. The door opened slowly and she peered out at us, her eyes red, her face puffy.
“We heard what happened,” Ida Belle said. “I’m so sorry.”
Lucinda nodded. “Thank you. Do you want to come in? I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Just for a minute,” Ida Belle said. “We don’t want to be in your way.”
Lucinda stepped back and allowed us in, and we followed her back to the kitchen.
“You sit down,” Gertie said. “I’ll get the coffee.”
Lucinda moved to the chair like a zombie and sank down into it. “I appreciate you checking on me. Carter, God bless him, offered to stay with me, but the boy’s got a job to do. He said he was going to send his mama over when she got back from a doctor’s appointment in New Orleans.”
“He’s a good deputy,” Gertie said as she placed the coffee on the table. “And a good man.”
Lucinda nodded. “I guess I’m still in shock. I mean, I know what I saw, but I can’t reconcile it in my head.”
“Of course you can’t,” Ida Belle said. “Anyone who knew Ralph would never expect something like this. He’s just not the type.”
Lucinda nodded. “I think that’s why I’m having such a hard time with it.”
Gertie finished serving and took a seat next to Lucinda. “I heard through the grapevine that Ralph was worried about an audit. Could that have had something to do with it?”
“Carter asked me the same thing,” Lucinda said, “but I don’t know anything about an audit. Besides which, Ralph’s been dealing with that sort of thing for over thirty years. I’d think if he was going to collapse over it, it would have happened before now.”
“You don’t think…” I looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie, then back at Lucinda. “I mean, you were saying the other day how his nephews wanted money and he wouldn’t give them any…”
Lucinda’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t even thought. Carter said there was no sign of forced entry and the gun was right there beside him on the floor, but I suppose…”