by A. C. Mason
“I spotted Trey lurking around outside while the police were investigating your break-in,” I said.
Lisa arched an eyebrow. “Really?” She paused briefly as if contemplating the possibilities. “Although his home isn’t far from here, it’s a long way to walk and I’m sure his office is also.”
“It’s out in Metairie. He could have come home for lunch, and then stopped to check out the police presence.”
“That seems plausible.” She didn’t look convinced. Neither was I.
“Well, this session only added other possible suspects,” I said, frustrated. “I honestly believed the list would direct us to one person.”
“Any particular person?”
By compiling the list, Lisa helped narrow down a few suspects and she honestly wanted to aid me in my investigation if for no other aim than to learn who trashed her galley. How fair would it be for me to name Mary Catherine as a suspect? What if she was innocent?
“I hope you won’t be offended, but I’d rather not point the finger yet without more proof.”
Lisa brushed off my admission with a slight wave. “No offense taken.”
“Good. I promise to keep you in the loop. For now, I think I should go home and mull over all the crazy events of the day.”
On the drive home I reviewed the information we gleaned from the compilation of the guest list. Who would commit a criminal act like breaking and entering only to steal a list of names? Vandalizing Lisa’s artwork made the crime even riskier for whoever broke in. This idiot took a big chance and could thank his or her lucky stars no one caught them in the act.
A savvy burglar with knowledge of electronics could have by-passed the alarm system. No telling what would have happened if Lisa surprised the intruder when she returned home from shopping. Thinking about the result of such an encounter made me queasy.
This must be my day for surprises. One awaited me when I arrived home. Jim sat in his favorite chair, a black leather recliner; only today he wasn’t reclining. His stern expression reminded me of a father confronting his teenage son or daughter who had stayed out past curfew. I felt like one. In my defense, I hadn’t broken a curfew, but I did tell a lie—a lie of omission about the purpose of my lunch with Lisa.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“You sound serious.”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
I took a seat on the end of the sofa closest to his chair and waited for him to elaborate.
His face remained solemn, his voice confident. “Tell me about the break-in at Lisa Olivier’s place this morning.”
Now I know what Melanie felt like when I questioned her yesterday at Garden House. I was being interrogated by a police officer. “Someone broke in and vandalized pieces of her artwork.”
“Anything else?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
His knowledge of my activities never failed to surprise me. Knowing me, he naturally suspected there was more. The only way he could possibly know about the list would be if Lisa lied about revealing the info to the police. But then, he is a detective. He would find out sooner or later and I couldn’t lie to him again. “They stole a list of names she compiled of the people who were on the guest list at the party she hosted on the night of Anne’s murder.”
Jim raised his eyebrows. “What exactly were you and Lisa planning to do with this list?”
“We were trying to figure out who might have had the opportunity and the motive.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. “Breaking and entering plus vandalism seems extreme just for a list of names. That part wasn’t in the report.”
“Lisa didn’t tell the officer about the list. She told me later she decided it would require too much of an explanation.”
“So you weren’t present when she spoke to Corporal Blanchard?”
“No, I arrived just about the time they were wrapping up the investigation,” I said, irritated. He probably figured I coerced Lisa into leaving out this detail.
“Did you come up with anything?” he asked.
“Two people were no-shows.”
“Like who?”
“Mary Catherine Durand and Trey Williamson didn’t come, but their spouses did. By the way, Trey just happened to be hanging around outside Lisa’s gallery, pretending to be rubbernecking.”
He kept his expression sober, but I could tell by the gleam in his eyes, he found at least some part of my information interesting.
Jim didn’t usually beat around the bush. Why would he drag it out this time?
“What did you really want to talk about?”
He studied my face for a while. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said after the long pause. “The Department has officially reopened Anne’s murder case.”
My excitement swelled. “I hope you’ll look at it with an open mind this time.”
“I won’t be looking at it at all.”
“What?”
“Lieutenant Marino believes I have a conflict of interest since I’m married to the sister of the prime suspect.”
“What a narrow minded assumption,” I said, annoyed by the insinuation. Nevertheless, in a way I felt relieved. Jim’s tunnel vision centered on Steven as the murderer. But a lot of other NOPD homicide detectives held the same view. “So, who’s going to handle Anne’s case?”
“Falcon and Berthelot.”
My heart sank. There went the open mind theory. The minds of these two guys were closed so tight a gnat couldn’t get in, and they both wore blinders. Apparently Jim read my expression.
“They’re going to look at my original file and go over it with a fine tooth comb. If there’s anything I missed they’ll find it.”
I shook my head. “That’s doubtful. Aren’t they of the opinion Steven is the murderer?”
He glared at me. “Look, your brother is still our prime suspect. I can’t help it if all evidence points to him. You need to keep your nose out of the investigation.”
“Even if I happen to discover evidence to prove his innocence?”
“If you just happen to discover it, you tell me and I’ll pass it along, but you can’t actively investigate a murder on your own, or in collaboration with your friend Lisa.” He paused a moment in his lecture. “What if she had surprised the person who broke in?”
As much as I hated to admit it he was right. My earlier guilt for the same idea returned. By involving Lisa I possibly placed her in harm’s way.
I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll bow out,”
A pleased look crossed his face. “I’ll give Falcon and Berthelot the info about the list and Trey Williamson’s presence at the scene.”
“Lisa won’t get in trouble for not reporting the stolen list, will she?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Doesn’t Lisa have an alarm system?
Relieved, I leaned back on the sofa. “Yes, she does. The alarm company notified her around the time she left the market.”
“According to the report, there weren’t any broken windows or door glass, but the lock showed signs of being jimmied.”
I nodded an acknowledgement.
Jim rubbed his chin with the fingers of his left hand as if contemplating his words carefully. “The scene appears to be the work of an amateur or someone really desperate. I doubt Williamson would take such a risk even if he is guilty.” He eyed me cautiously like he expected an outburst.
He got one. “Oh, so Trey would not be likely to take a risk by doing something stupid because he’s a professional. You’re still in Steven-is- guilty mode.” My accusation came out a little more acidic than I intended.
“Stop putting words in my mouth,” he said, throwing a peeved look in my direction. “Williamson never impressed me as desperate. Besides, his old man is always there to get him out of trouble.” He flipped an errant swath of dark hair away from his forehead in an agitated manner.
I exhaled. “Sorry. I’m a little worked up about this.”
The anger in his expressive brown
eyes began to fade. He moved the conversation away from our personal disagreements. “What’s Trey’s real name anyway?”
“Bennett Williamson III.” My intuition told me our discussion wasn’t over yet. “There’s more you wanted to say, isn’t there?”
He nodded. “I want you to promise me you won’t interfere in the investigation. You and I both will be in a lot of trouble if you don’t stay out of it. I’d like to leave NOPD on good terms.”
“So you can leave them for Cypress Lake to be chief of police?” I really didn’t need to ask.
“Yes,” he said, watching as if he expected me to disintegrate any moment.
“Have you given your notice yet?”
“No. I’m waiting for you to decide you’re ready to go with me.”
As usual guilt reared its ugly head again. I felt selfish. “This position really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. I keep hoping you’ll see it my way, like within the next day or so. Bill Kaufman can’t wait forever to appoint a new chief.”
“I promise to stay out of the investigation and concentrate on the idea of leaving New Orleans. You ought to know by now I wouldn’t break up our marriage.” The prospect of losing him frightened me. “I love you.”
“I hoped you would go with me, but with the situation like it is I couldn’t be sure.” Leaning forward, he clasped both my hands in his and gave me a tender smile. “It’s not an easy choice for you since you’ve lived here all your life and with everything hanging in the air concerning Anne’s murder and your brother. But it’ll be great to have some peace and quiet for a change.”
My face must have revealed the doubt I felt.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re not moving to Siberia. It’s only fifty miles away.”
“I know. Just let me work this out in my mind.”
“Okay.” He rose from the chair, leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, then started for the door.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“Back to work. One of us has to bring home the bacon.” He grinned and blew me a kiss.
I laughed and caught the smooch in midair. As he disappeared out the door, I wondered about my sanity. I had to be insane to risk losing such a wonderful man.
Settling back on the sofa, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what my life would be like in Cypress Lake. I envisioned long boring days and dark quiet nights with the only sounds crickets and frogs. On the other hand the lack of other activities would give me ample opportunity to write. Maybe I’d even be able to complete a publishable manuscript since there wouldn’t be any distractions like here in the city.
My thoughts eventually strayed to Anne’s murder investigation and all the possible suspects. I know, I know. I’m supposed to be making a decision about moving to the middle of nowhere, but I didn’t want to give up my quest to prove Steven’s innocence. My mission had turned into an obsession.
In reality, the answer was simple. Unless I wanted to end up in divorce court, I couldn’t make any other choice but to curtail my search for Anne’s killer and go with Jim to Cypress Lake. An idea occurred to me. I could do both. Nothing prevented me from moving with my husband or continuing to investigate. I didn’t want a divorce, but I also felt compelled to prove Steven didn’t kill his wife.
Five
Mary Catherine Durand held the top spot on my list of suspects. Mentally I brought myself back to the night of Lisa’s party. Mary Catherine supposedly had a flu bug and couldn’t attend, but her husband came. As I recall, Lisa told me John was not in a good mood. The logical cause of his bad mood could be his wife’s absence. Was she really under the weather like he told everyone? Memories of the evening came back to me and another scenario worked its way into my head
Right before I left with Greg St. Martin, my date for the evening, to drive Anne back to her house, Melanie and her hubby said their goodbyes because she wasn’t feeling well. Michael returned shortly after Greg and I came back to the party. As soon as he arrived back at the party John Durand rushed over to him. They talked in hushed tones for a while, but John kept getting more and more agitated. Finally Michael escorted him out onto the patio where they talked again at length. Too bad I hadn’t been a fly on the wall at the time. Then again, I didn’t suspect anyone of murder at that point in the evening.
Lisa needed to be informed about my ban from investigating. I hated to tell her because the brainstorming session was enjoyable. Jim was right though. She shouldn’t be involved in this. So I might as well get it over with.
Just as I reached for the phone it rang. Lisa’s number appeared on the caller ID.
“Hey, you must have ESP. I was ready to call you.”
She laughed, but her voice sobered immediately. “This may be nothing, but after you left I started thinking more about the mood of some of the people at the party.”
“Like who?”
“John Durand and Michael Benoit.”
I raised my eyebrows at the mention of the two men. “We must really be on the same wave length. After I left your house I remembered the very same incident. What do you know about it?”
“Not much. As I recall, when Michael returned to the party, he and John had a rather animated conversation. When they realized they had everyone’s attention, the two of them moved out on the patio.”
I perked up with interest. “Did you hear any of the conversation?”
“Unfortunately, no,” she said. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”
My shoulders sank. “I’m glad you mentioned it anyway, but I’m afraid I have to give up my detective work.”
“Why?” she exclaimed.
“Jim informed me I couldn’t get involved. The Department is reopening the case and he’s not assigned to it because of what they see as a conflict of interest.” I paused and tried to get my blood pressure under control. “This so-called conflict of interest is me. Jim is married to the sister of their prime suspect. So what does that tell you?”
“They’ve already decided Steven’s guilty?”
“You got it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you really going to give up and let them decide his guilt?”
“Jim wants me to curtail my activities. I told him I would but proving Steven innocent has become an obsession. I don’t have a lot of time to dig up the truth.”
“Why not?” Curiosity sounded in her voice.
Should I tell her about Jim’s job offer? It wasn’t really a secret. “Jim has been offered a position as chief of police in a little town called Cypress Lake. He asked me…no, he told me not to get involved because he wanted to leave NOPD on good terms.”
“Chief of Police, how great is that? Cypress Lake is a nice town. It’s quite different from New Orleans, but I think you’ll like it there.”
Surprised, I sat up straight. “You’ve been there?”
“I drove down there to take photos for an artwork project and stayed at this cute little bed and breakfast.”
“What’s the place like?” I couldn’t believe anyone had ever heard of the town much less spent time there.
“Do you mean the bed and breakfast or the town?”
“Both. I’ve never been to the area. Jim grew up in the nearby town of, would you believe, Foretville.”
“Been there too,” she said, with a hint of humor in her voice. “Cypress Lake is larger. The lake is the centerpiece of the area just like Lake Ponchartrain. Of course, it’s on a much smaller scale. You’re familiar with North Shore around Mandeville and Madisonville. It’s very similar, except not nearly as developed.”
“No kidding,” I said, surprised, to say the least. I also felt incredibly narrow minded for not checking things out before making up my mind I would be stranded in the wilderness. This revelation supplied me with something more to think about. The towns Lisa compared to Cypress Lake were located on the northern shore of Lake Ponchartrain, in actuality, bedroom communities of New Orleans. “I had no id
ea.”
“Now you know. You should feel a lot better about leaving the city.”
“Until that time, I plan on continuing to find Anne’s real killer because if I’m certain no one else will.”
“You could be biting off more than you can chew. Please be careful.” I read concern in her voice.
“Oh I will. Say, maybe sometime soon I might take a field trip to Cypress Lake and check things out there. Would you care to go with me?”
Her tone lightened. “Sounds like a fun outing. Just let me know when.”
Lisa and I ended our conversation on a high note, but I still couldn’t get the exchange between John Durand and Michael Benoit off my mind. Apparently other people found the incident strange, if Lisa remembered it also.
John Durand, an intense and outspoken person, always voiced his opinion whether asked for or not. He appeared to have his wife on a very short leash. Evidently she managed to escape her bonds without his knowledge on a number of occasions to meet up with Steven.
Michael was John’s opposite, rather quiet, laid back, and usually seemed to be the voice of sanity. Although from the expression he occasionally wore, I suspected he secretly enjoyed stirring up trouble among the members of his clique and he may have even started a few rumors about one or the other of them. Unlike Mary Catherine, Melanie had all the freedom in the world. The two couples were as different as night and day.
Obviously John revealed information on a more personal level during this conversation. Otherwise, Michael wouldn’t have moved their discussion out of the public eye. Then again, a lot of things didn’t make sense.
I doubted Mary Catherine suffered from the flu at all. Feeling ill turned into her excuse to have a free evening. But what did she do with her free time?
The only people who had a motive to kill Anne would be Steven himself, or the women who had affairs with him. Did their husbands have anything to do with her murder? It appeared at least one of them did. But this seemed improbable, too. Those guys didn’t seem to have a motive to kill Anne. If anyone, they would go after Steven.
In the end it all boiled down to two conclusions: Either Mary Catherine Durand, or some other woman killed Anne, and the respective spouse knew and covered up for them, or Steven killed Anne. I just didn’t want to believe the latter.