A Thousand Lies (12 page)

“I can help! I know where LeGrande lives. Look for a very small antique shop between a restaurant and a coffee bar. It’s called Time after Time. There will be a stairway in the alley behind those buildings. It leads to a small apartment above the antique shop. That is where he lives.”

Brendan choked on a sob. “God bless you, Auntie. This is the first good news I’ve had all night. Can you stay with Mama and Linny? I don’t know when I’ll get back.”

“Of course I can. We are family. Go find your girl.”

She disconnected, leaving Brendan shaking. She might not be his girl much longer if her father had anything to say about it, but the only thing on his mind was finding her. He took off down the street at a lope.

****

Police were all over The Black Garter, but not for long. The fire had taken the second building down far faster than it had burned through the first and jumped to the third rooftop, bringing it even closer to the bar. The entire area was being evacuated.

Jack had wasted no time turning over the security footage to the detectives and was now on his way down to police headquarters to give his statement.

Grayson March was still fixated on Brendan, viewing his absence from the scene as suspicious, and had commented as much to the police after filling them in on the altercation he’d had with Anson Poe. Now he was on his way to the police station as well.

When the bouncers headed up the street to where their vehicles were parked, Marco realized both Julie’s car and Brendan’s SUV were still on the street, which meant Brendan was still on foot somewhere in the Quarter.

Sparks were flying upward, forced by the chimney-like force of the fire’s inferno. They were in danger of getting their clothes on fire and needed to get out, but Marco’s thoughts were of his friend.

“Hold up, Deuce,” he said, and made a quick call to Brendan.

Brendan answered on the first ring. “Marco! Any news?”

“No. Where are you, man? We’re all heading to the P.D. to give our statements. The bar is going to burn if they don’t get this fire stopped. It’s already moved to the third building just across the alley from us.”

“Jesus,” Brendan said. “Look, I’m down at the riverfront. Michelle from The Candy Basket said that Count LeGrande was out on the street about the same time as the abduction, and might have seen something. I’m trying to track him down.”

A loud explosion went off behind them, causing Marco and Deuce to duck.

“What was that?” Brendan asked.

“Transformer blew, I think,” Marco said. “Julie’s car is going to burn, and you’re going to lose your truck, too, if I don’t move it. Do you still keep that spare key under the left wheel well?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Here’s the deal. Since Deuce rode to work with me, he can take my car on to the P.D. and I’ll drive yours. At least we can keep one of them from burning.”

“Thanks, man, I owe you big time. Tell Jack I’ll get to the police station as fast as I can, but if this area goes up in flames, everyone down here will be displaced. God only knows where they might go after that and I don’t want to lose this lead.”

“You got it. We’re out of here. The heat and smoke is bad. You be careful, and don’t get yourself caught with no way out.”

“I’m always careful,” Brendan muttered. “I gotta go.”

The call ended abruptly.

Marco found the extra key to Brendan’s truck, and followed Deuce out of the parking lot. They were heading toward the police station on Royal Street just as another fire truck pulled up on the premises.

Hell had descended upon the Quarter.

****

An hour later, Marco and Deuce were still waiting at the police department, as were Jack and Grayson. Wynn and Tony were going through mug shots in an effort to identify the perp and everyone was impatiently waiting for news.

When the door suddenly opened and a detective walked into the room, Grayson stood up.

“Mr. March, I’m Detective Carson. I’ll be handling your daughter’s case.”

“Is there news?” Grayson asked.

“Nothing new. I just need to clarify some statements you made to the officers who were first on the scene.”

“Ask away.”

The detective opened his notebook. “I’ve seen the security footage, so we know Anson Poe did not physically kidnap your daughter, but am I to understand you are accusing him of orchestrating it?”

Grayson lifted his chin. “What I said was, that it’s possible he was behind it because of a recent altercation we had.”

Carson nodded. “And what about your accusation regarding Brendan Poe, Anson Poe’s youngest son? Are you stating that he could have had knowledge of this beforehand?”

Jack stood up, unable to listen to this any longer. “Hell no, he’s not behind this, and if Grayson wasn’t so emotionally wrought, he would not insinuate such crap.”

Carson frowned at the interruption. “And you are?”

“Jack Michaels, manager at The Black Garter. Brendan Poe has worked for me for the past five years and is a fine, upstanding young man. He is not responsible for his father’s sins, and is in love with Juliette. He would do nothing to harm her.”

“Does she return the feelings?”

Jack frowned. “Answer him, Grayson. You’re the one who pointed an angry finger at an innocent man. Now it’s time to do the right thing and acknowledge it was your prejudice talking and not the facts.”

When Grayson and Jack did nothing but glare at each other, the detective spoke up. “Somebody start talking,” Carson said.

Grayson was mad at Jack, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Yes, Brendan and Juliette have a romantic relationship. It’s true I’m not happy about it, but I have no reason to assume he has anything to do with my daughter’s abduction.”

“Where is Brendan Poe?” Carson asked. “Did he come down with the rest of you?”

Grayson’s voice rose in anger all over again. “No, and that’s why I was suspicious when—”

At that point, Marco and Deuce began interrupting, and then Marco spoke up.

“We know where Brendan is. He was running down a lead at the riverfront when I called him. He said someone told him that Count LeGrande was in the vicinity when the kidnapping took place, and he might have seen something. He was afraid the fire would scatter all the locals and if they became displaced, he might lose the chance to talk to him.”

Jack glared at Grayson. “I told you he wouldn’t run away.”

Grayson glared back.

Marco kept talking. “I drove his truck down here for safe keeping. He said to tell Jack he’d meet you all here after he found LeGrande.”

“Does anyone know the whereabouts of Anson Poe? Would he be with his son?” Carson asked.

“Brendan hates his father,” Deuce said.

“They have no relationship,” Jack added.

“I know where Anson Poe is,” Grayson muttered. “I’ve had my men on him ever since he threatened my family. He’s at Adelaine’s eating dinner. They’ve been on him all night.”

“So your own men have just given the man you accused an air-tight alibi,” Carson said.

Grayson frowned. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t hire it out.”

“Do you have any information that would substantiate this accusation?”

“No, but—”

Carson held up his hand. “I understand your feelings, but we operate on facts, and right now we have nothing to implicate Poe. With your business holdings, you must have other enemies. Is there anyone you can think of? Someone you have recently fired or anything like that?”

“No!” Grayson snapped. “I don’t personally run my business interests. I have managers for that. I’m sure dozens of people are hired and fired every day somewhere.”

“Then I suggest you start checking with your managers and see if anyone has recently uttered any threats against you or your company.”

“Hells bells,” he mumbled, pulled out his phone, and moved to the far end of the room to make the calls.

Chapter Seven

The fire sweeping through the French Quarter was a nightmare to those who lived on the streets. They were spilling out of alleys and hidey-holes, running down to the riverfront like rats from a burning ship. It made movement even more difficult for Brendan as he pushed through them, desperate to find the location Claudette had given him.

When he finally located the antique shop and saw an apartment above it, he began looking for an alley to get to the stairs, and was once again deterred. The buildings were connected, one to the other, like little shops in an open-air mall. He was still moving when someone in the crowd cried out, “The Black Garter is on fire.”

The fire was getting closer and he was running out of time.

He began to run, dodging and pushing through the crowd until he finally found an open alley and ducked through it. He came out on the backside of the buildings and then began running back the way he’d come, looking for the stairs. When he finally saw them, the gathering smoke shrouded them. He was halfway up them when he heard a door open above him, and then the sound of someone coughing.

He looked up just as LeGrande was coming down. Brendan caught a look of surprise, then fear on the old man’s face and quickly called out.

“Count LeGrande! It’s me, Brendan Poe!”

LeGrande came down, coughing and choking as they quickly descended. “What do you want, boy?”

“I need to speak with you, but we need to get out of this smoke first.”

The old man was staggering. “My home is going to burn. I’m not ready to die.”

A loud rumble of thunder rolled above the rooftops. From the sound, it appeared that the predicted storm front had finally arrived.

“Praise the Lord,” the Count said, then let himself be led back out of the alley and closer to the river.

As soon as they reached an area where it was easier to breathe, Brendan found a place for the old man to sit, then waited for him to catch his breath.

The Count’s chest was heaving, which only added to the stoop of his bony shoulders. He’d never noticed how white LeGrande’s hair and beard were up close, almost as white as his paper-thin skin. He looked much smaller without the frock coat and top hat.

As they sat, a wind began to rise, an ill wind for the firemen trying to put out the fires.

“Are you okay, sir?” Brendan asked.

He nodded. “Now what is it you wanted to ask?”

“Juliette March was kidnapped tonight.”

The expression of horror on LeGrande’s face was real. “Oh no! I hadn’t heard. I’m shocked, but how does that pertain to me?”

“Michelle at The Candy Basket said you were still on the streets when it happened. I was hoping you might’ve seen something. We know the abductor took her out of the back of the bar and up the alley toward the main drag.”

“I don’t think I saw anything like that, but then the crowd was in constant motion at that time. Everyone was already concerned about trying to get away from the smoke and fire.”

Brendan’s heart sank, but he kept on talking, hoping something would ring a bell.

“The abductor is bald, heavy-set, and middle-aged with long arms and short legs. He was wearing jeans and a navy blue knit shirt. Julie was wearing black slacks and a white shirt like all the bartenders. He would have been carrying her either over his shoulder or in his arms, because he’d knocked her out.”

LeGrande gasped, and then suddenly leaned forward. “Is he a regular customer at the bar?”

Brendan’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, every night for the past month or so. Why?”

“I didn’t see him tonight, but I think I know the man you mean. He leaves just before closing every night and then stands in the shadows of a nearby alley, watching as employees leave the bar. I always thought that was strange.”

Brendan grabbed Count’s arm. “Yes, yes! That’s the man. Do you know his name?”

“No, but I know something about him.”

“What? Tell me, quick! Her life depends on it.”

“I know that he drives a late-model Chevrolet Tahoe, either black or dark blue.”

“That’s great, but are you sure you’ve never heard anyone call him by name?”

“I’m sure, but I can help you find him just the same. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Why?” Brendan asked.

“Because I know the number of his car tag.” Then LeGrande shrugged. “It is a thing I do... memorizing numbers.”

Brendan’s hands began to tremble as he reached for his phone. “Give me a second,” he said, and pulled up the Notes section.

LeGrande watched. “Amazing things, the phones they have these days.”

“Yes, sir, yes they are,” Brendan said. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The Count rattled off the numbers. “Oh. One other thing about the SUV.”

“What’s that?” Brendan asked.

“The vehicle is always quite dusty, or when it rains, it’s always muddy.”

“Meaning he most likely lives somewhere outside of the city,” Brendan said.

The Count nodded.

Brendan jumped up and then shook LeGrande’s hand. “I’ve got to call the police with this information. You may have just saved Juliette March’s life.”

“I’m happy to have been of service,” he said.

Another clap of thunder rattled the windows in the nearby buildings, and then it was as if the sound tore a hole in heaven. Rain came down in a sudden sheet, flattening the Count’s beard to his neck and their clothes to their bodies.

“Come with me,” Brendan said. “You need to get out of the rain.”

“No. There’s no need to seek other shelter now. Now that it appears my home won’t burn, I’ll go back. Go rescue your lady love and give her my regards.”

Brendan threw his arms around the old man’s shoulders, thumping him soundly on the back.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you! I’ll be in touch.”

He took off running, anxious to get out of the rain to make the call, leaving the old man on his own. LeGrande made no attempt to run as he started back to his apartment. He was already as wet as he could possibly be.

****

Toni and Wynn were still looking at mug shots in another area of the P.D. when the thunderstorm hit.

Grayson March’s wife, Lana, had arrived only a few minutes earlier. As soon as he ran to comfort her, she quickly rebuffed him. It was obvious from the expression on her face and the sharp words they were trading, she was not only distraught about her daughter’s disappearance, but blaming her husband because he’d let Juliette work in such an unseemly place.