Witch Confidential

by Lily Harper Hart

  “It sounds like it.” She heaved out a sigh. “I don’t know where to look. There are a lot of options ... and yet none are expressly calling to me.”

  “Follow the timeline.”

  “Why? What do you think I’ll find there?”

  “I have no idea. That’s simply a reasonable piece of advice no matter what you’re doing.”

  Ofelia had a sarcastic comeback on the tip of her tongue but, the more she thought about it, the more she realized he was right. “The timeline it is.” She pushed herself to a standing position. “Thanks for the help. Again.”

  “You’re welcome. Try to stop by when you don’t need a favor. I might develop a complex otherwise.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Six

  Sully’s investigation into the property didn’t take nearly as long as he envisioned ... mostly because there were only ever two owners. Victor Esteban, who died fifty years before, and the Windsor family. Nobody else was in the mix.

  Because the Windsor family was considered New Orleans royalty — but only by people who ran in certain circles — Sully was forced to call their public relations representative to set up an interview, something that didn’t sit well with him.

  The man’s name was Josh Carter, and he talked as if he had a stick in his hindquarters ... one that made it ridiculously hard to get comfortable.

  “What is it I can do for you, Detective?” Carter’s voice was nasal, to the point of making Steve Urkel sound normal.

  “I need to speak to your clients,” Sully replied, tapping his fingers on his desk as he fought the urge to snap at the man. “Something has come up at the old Lux Ambassador building.”

  “They no longer own that property.”

  “I’m well aware. Unfortunately, something happened on that property when they did own it and I need to know who had access.”

  “My clients are not criminals.”

  Sully jabbed his middle finger into the air even though he knew the man couldn’t see it. He was beyond annoyed with the attitude. “I’m not saying your clients are criminals. I’m saying I need insight into who might’ve been inside that building.”

  “My clients were never in that building.”

  Sully narrowed his eyes. “Really? Did they tell you that?”

  “As a matter of fact, they did.”

  “And that just came up in random conversation, huh?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m curious why your clients would volunteer the fact that they’ve never been in that particular building. I mean ... the Windsors must own a hundred buildings in this town. It’s interesting that you remember they’ve never been in that specific one.”

  “They own a hundred and thirty-six.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “As for them being in that building ... .” Carter hesitated. “I’m pretty sure they told me they’d never been in the building once news broke about what you’re investigating.”

  That was a circular sentence if he’d ever heard one, Sully internally raged. This guy was clearly trying to shine him on. “Well, since news hasn’t broken about what was found in that building yet, I find that ... intriguing.”

  “I ... my clients are busy people. They have no time for you today.”

  Sully immediately switched his tactics. He knew exactly how to deal with someone like Carter. “That’s fine. Your clients don’t have to answer my questions.”

  “I’m glad we’re agreed.”

  “I’ll simply make sure the press is aware they don’t want to talk about seven dead women, all below the age of thirty, and that they’re hiding behind you because they’re uncomfortable with me asking questions. I’m sure only the local news will pick it up the first day. In forty-eight hours, though, it should hit the cable news cycle. There’s little Americans love more than snotty rich people refusing to answer questions about innocent dead girls.”

  Carter was silent for a long beat on the other end of the call. When he started speaking again, it was with a smidge more respect ... although that wasn’t saying much. “I didn’t realize the severity of the situation. Of course my clients would be happy to sit down with you at your convenience.”

  Sully rolled his eyes. “That’s great. I’ll be at their house in an hour.”

  “That soon?” Carter almost sounded panicked.

  “You said my convenience.”

  “Yes, but I thought that would be next week. My clients are very important people. They can’t simply drop everything because you demand it.”

  “That’s certainly their prerogative.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll either meet with them in an hour or one of the reporters from The Advocate. It’s up to you.”

  Silence again. Finally, Carter let loose a pent-up breath. “We’ll see you in an hour. Don’t be late.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” The call disconnected before Sully had the sentence out and he held out his phone to stare at it. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

  THE CLOSEST BRANCH OF THE NEW ORLEANS Public Library was located on Tulane. As a child, it had been one of Ofelia’s favorite places to visit. She absolutely loved losing herself in the towering stacks of books. Her father was a prolific reader and he passed on his love of the written word to his daughter. Felix, much like their mother, preferred music to words. Ofelia was the exact opposite.

  Betty Garrett, a volunteer she had known for the better part of two decades, was behind the help desk when Ofelia entered the building.

  “Hey, girl.” Betty grinned when she saw who was approaching. “I feel I haven’t seen you in forever. Where have you been hiding?”

  “Work. Where am I always hiding?”

  “Are you telling me that owning your own business isn’t a cakewalk?” Betty’s grin was devilish. “You’re killing the dream.”

  Ofelia snorted and shook her head. “There are great things about it — don’t get me wrong — but it’s a pain, too.”

  “The new Stephen King is in. There’s a waiting list, but I can slip you on it early if you want.”

  Actually, the idea appealed to Ofelia a great deal. Since she knew she would be busy for the foreseeable future, though, she shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m actually here to do research. Maybe another time.”

  “Research, huh?” Betty narrowed her eyes. “Aw, I should’ve seen it. You’ve got your serious face on. What happened this time? Do you want to go through the medical periodicals again to see if there’s something to help your daddy?”

  If anyone else had asked the question, Ofelia would’ve been insulted. Betty knew, though. More importantly, Betty sat with a scared little girl when she came into the library to get away from her arguing parents. The woman even took her out for ice cream when she was too frightened to return home, and introduced her to books to help her cope with what she was feeling.

  Betty wasn’t just anyone.

  “Actually, my father has been fairly good lately ... all things considered.”

  “Uh-huh.” Betty let loose a dubious tsk. “If you’re not here to help your daddy, what are you trying to look up?”

  “I need the death rolls from Katrina.”

  Betty’s eyes goggled. “Excuse me?”

  “I just want to see them.”

  “Well, that’s a cheery subject.” Betty shook her head and then motioned for Ofelia to follow her. “Come on. Those are locked up in a special room.”

  “They’re locked up?” Ofelia couldn’t hide her surprise. “How come?”

  “Because people will write on them ... or steal them ... or just be general asses. You know how it goes.”

  “I guess.” Ofelia fell silent as she followed Betty toward one of the research rooms, scuffing her feet as she considered the jerkish nature of the human population. “Do you know how many people died in Katrina?”

  “In the state? More than fifteen hundred. There’s not actually an accurate count because some bodies were lost, th
ough.”

  “See, I’ve researched it, but I was a kid at the time so I don’t really remember it like I should.” She thought back to the story Pascal told her. “I think my parents tried to protect me from the reality of it.”

  “As well they should. It’s not as if they ever protected you from the reality of anything else.” The second part was muttered under her breath, but Betty had a voice that carried no matter how she tried to hide it. “You know I never speak ill of your parents, right?”

  Ofelia had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Betty criticized her parents every time she saw her. “Sure.”

  “Well, that stands,” the older woman said. “They’re both putzes, though.”

  “Yeah. I’ve figured that out.”

  Betty led the way into the research room, flicking on the light and pointing toward a huge ledger sitting on the conference room table. “There you go.”

  Ofelia’s eyes widened. “This is a list of all the people who died in Katrina?”

  “That’s a list of the missing and the dead.”

  Honestly, that was exactly what Ofelia was looking for. “Is there any way to reference the names?”

  “What do you mean?” Betty sat next to Ofelia as the witch grabbed the book and flipped it open. “Why would you want to reference them? The names are listed alphabetically. Just search for who you’re looking for.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not sure who I’m looking for.” Ofelia related the tale of the body to Betty, leaving nothing out. When she got to the discovery of the additional bodies, Betty was aghast.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s not a very funny joke.”

  “No, it’s not,” Betty agreed, shaking her head. “That is downright awful.”

  “I know. The thing is, my father told me that there were missing girls in the city right before Katrina. He said after everyone came back to the city, no one else disappeared.”

  “I wouldn’t say no one,” Betty countered. “I mean ... it’s a big city. Violence goes with the territory.”

  “You know what I mean. You don’t have to argue with my father just to argue.”

  “That’s not what I was doing.”

  Ofelia pinned her with a serious look. “It’s important. I need to find the names of those missing girls.”

  “Well, they might be in here.” Betty tapped the book. “It’s going to take forever to find them that way, though. I think I know a better idea.” She got up from the table and moved to the computer sitting at a small desk in the corner. “This is for administration purposes only, but I happen to know of an online database.”

  Ofelia was officially intrigued and she followed the woman. “There’s a database of all the dead and missing?”

  Betty nodded. “It’s for law enforcement purposes but, because we’re a government entity, we have access. We’re supposed to add any pertinent information we find ... like if someone had a book before Katrina and it still hasn’t been returned and stuff like that.”

  “What do missing books have to do with anything? I would think all your books from that time period were destroyed.”

  “Pretty much. You know how the government works, though. They like doing stupid stuff. Ah, here we go. Give me some search parameters.”

  Ofelia felt put on the spot. “Um ... teenagers. Like between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two.”

  “Got it.”

  “Listed as missing before Katrina.”

  “Got it.”

  “Might’ve been street performers.”

  Betty lifted an eyebrow. “You know those kids aren’t exactly regulated, right? A lot of them are runaways or estranged from their families. There might not have been anyone to report them missing.”

  “I need to try. I’m the one who found them. They feel like my responsibility.”

  “Yeah. You always were the sort to care about others.” She heaved out a sigh. “Okay. Let’s see what we got.” She popped her lips as she waited for the search to come back. It only took a few seconds. “One hit.”

  Ofelia could barely staunch her bitter disappointment. “What’s the name?”

  “Laura Charles.”

  Ofelia stilled. “Wait ... .”

  “I’m already ahead of you.” Betty kept typing. “Well, crap. I thought maybe it was a coincidence, but it’s not. Laura Charles is Barry Charles’ daughter, which makes her ... well ... .”

  “My stepfather’s niece,” Ofelia finished, her stomach sinking. “Well, I wanted an avenue to pursue. I honestly didn’t see it going here, though.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  THE WINDSOR TWINS — MAGGIE AND MICHAEL — lived in a massive mansion on Royal Street in the heart of the Quarter. Sully had driven by the home a number of times and never paid it much heed. Now, standing in front of the daunting monstrosity, his agitation was back with a vengeance.

  “These people,” he muttered under his breath as he pressed the button and glared at the marble lions situated on either side of the door.

  It took a full two minutes for a butler to answer. He was dressed in full tails and had a top hat — which Sully found agitated him all the more — and he didn’t look happy about the disturbance. “The mistress and master are waiting in the parlor.”

  “Great.” Sully followed the butler to the room in question, keeping his temper in check when he strolled into the ornate room and found the two individuals in question openly complaining about having to entertain a representative from the police department.

  “It shouldn’t be allowed,” Maggie argued, her lower lip jutting out. “It’s harassment.”

  “I don’t think we can prove that,” Michael countered, flicking his eyes to the door when he heard footsteps on the tiled floor. “Gideon, please introduce us to our guest.”

  “This is a police detective,” the butler replied. “I didn’t care enough to get his name.” With those words, Gideon turned on his heel and headed back toward the front of the house, leaving Sully to deal with the Windsors on his own.

  “Zacharias Sully.” He held out his hand for Michael, who begrudgingly took it. “I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, but I have questions about the Conti Street property you recently sold to Phil Simmons.”

  “I’m not even familiar with that property,” Maggie offered, although she’d perked up markedly since getting a gander at Sully. She preferred her men in tuxedos and with fat bank accounts, Sully surmised, but she was obviously okay slumming if the right opportunity came along. “How long have you been with the police department, Mr. Sully?”

  Sully ignored the question and focused on Michael. “This is a time-sensitive investigation. A young woman was found dead on the second floor of that property last evening.”

  “Obviously we have nothing to do with that,” Michael replied. “We don’t even own that property any longer. We haven’t for months. I looked it up when I was informed you were coming. I don’t even remember ever being on that property.”

  “The most recent victim was fresh, and you’re right, that’s not your problem,” Sully said. “Unfortunately, we found another six victims hidden behind some drywall and they’d been there for some time. That is your problem.”

  Michael’s mouth dropped open as Maggie theatrically gasped.

  “Six victims?” she squeaked out. “That’s ... impossible. How could that possibly happen on our property? I mean ... it’s just rude to kill someone on someone else’s property.”

  Sully fought an eye roll. As annoying as he found Michael, the man was still preferable to his sister. “I know you’ve leased the space in that building multiple times.”

  “That was my father,” Michael hedged.

  “Yes, but you’re running his business now. I didn’t mean you personally.”

  “Oh, right.” Michael straightened, giving Sully the impression that he was playing lord of the manor rather than actually stepping up to the task. �
�I don’t know what to tell you. All our property records for that building were lost in Katrina. I had our attorney look about twenty minutes ago.”

  “You lost all your computer records?” Sully was understandably dubious. “How does that work? Didn’t you have backups?”

  “Yes, in a safe that was found underwater and apparently wasn’t waterproof. Katrina was fifteen years ago. That was before businesses regularly backed up their information in the cloud. Everything was on durable goods back then ... and it’s gone.”

  Honestly, he should’ve expected that, Sully realized. Technology moved fast. Applying today’s standards to an event that happened fifteen years in the past was ridiculous. “I didn’t think about that.” Sully dragged a hand through his hair, ignoring the appraising look Maggie shot him. She was blond, lithe, and perky. He absolutely hated her on sight. He much preferred moody brunettes with petal pink lips and sarcastic tongues.

  “I truly am sorry,” Michael insisted. “I mean ... I can ask some of the people who were working in my father’s real estate holding company at that time, but I can’t remember anyone offhand who is still there. I think most have retired.”

  “Anything you can give me would help,” Sully said. “We’re operating blind here and those girls deserve justice.”

  “I agree.” Maggie perfunctorily bobbed her head. “Just because they were discarded like trash doesn’t mean we should treat them like trash.”

  “Right.” Sully was suddenly uncomfortable. “If you can get that information for me, that would be great. That’s all I came for. I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Please leave us your card,” Michael insisted. “I’ll get someone on this right away.”

  Sully dug in his pocket until he came up with a rectangular piece of paper. “Thank you so much for your help.”

  “Wait.” Maggie hopped to her feet. “You don’t have to go.”

  That wasn’t how Sully saw it at all. “Actually, I do. Have a nice day.”

  SURPRISINGLY, OFELIA WAS HANGING OUT ON THE street in front of the house when he exited. He was moving so fast he didn’t see her until he was almost on top of her.