Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (4 page)

CHAPTER 4

That afternoon, Sheriff Jude Prejean closed the Darveau case file and took off his reading glasses. No fingerprints. No usable trace evidence. No results back yet on DNA. The only thing they knew for certain was that the killer made sure Darveau was awake, aware, and helpless when he drowned.

The list of enemies was long. But Darveau’s administrative assistant was not aware of any threats made. Nor was anything threatening found in Darveau’s emails, phone messages, or text messages.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he lifted his gaze.

“You look glum.” Deputy Chief Aimee Rivette stood in the doorway. “You must be as frustrated as the rest of us.”

“Whoever killed Girard Darveau covered his steps,” Jude said. “There’s nothing solid here—other than the victim had more enemies than most of us have friends. I doubt his own mother will mourn his murder.” He winced. “I didn’t mean that. Forget I said it.”

“It’s probably truer than we’d like to admit.” Aimee came in and stood in front of his desk. “Gil and I have finished questioning Darveau’s son and daughter. They drove up last night from New Orleans with their families. We don’t think either of them had anything to do with it.”

“They’re going to inherit a lot of money.”

“True. But they’re both wealthy in their own right. They seemed genuinely dazed. Though neither was surprised that someone would want to see their father dead.”

“How can you be so sure
they
didn’t want him dead?”

“I can’t. But neither was in Les Barbes yesterday. And if either or both hired a hit man, we’ve got a long way to go to prove it. Besides, what hit man would’ve risked leaving evidence at the scene?”

“He wouldn’t,” Jude said. “He’d have made it quick and clean and certainly wouldn’t have numbered his victim. This was personal. Have you caught up with his ex-wife yet?”

“Yes, I sent Stone Castille and Mike Doucet up to Lafayette to talk to her. She got a huge settlement when they split ten years ago and has remarried. According to the kids, the parents don’t speak to each other. I think that’s a dead end.” Aimee glanced over at the window. “The press is crouched on our doorstep. Are you planning to talk to them again?”

Jude sighed. “Not until I have something new. Let them wait.”

Adele stood on the porch and waved good-bye to Noah, glints of sunlight filtering through the deep pink blossoms on the crape myrtles that bordered her front yard. She smiled, noting that her entire property here on Magnolia Lane was smaller than her rose garden on the Woodmore Estates.

She walked back inside and out to the glassed-in porch where Murray sat at the table, his hands wrapped around a cold glass of lemonade.

“I’m sorry Noah had to hurry off,” she said. “But I suppose he’s got his work cut out for him now that he’s the groundskeeper for the Langleys. They have a lot of property to maintain, and I haven’t forgotten what’s involved in that.”

Murray took a sip of lemonade. “I hate that Noah’s moving out there soon. There’s really no one else at Haven House I hit it off with.”

“You mentioned there are fourteen men all together.”

“At the moment. Flynn Gillis should get cut,
if
Father Vince has the guts to do it. The guy’s lazy and manipulates him. Honestly, I don’t get it. I’d throw him out. I don’t have patience for that.”

“What’s Flynn’s background like?”

“Who knows? We don’t talk about it. He’d probably lie anyhow. I just don’t trust him. I know his type.” Murray shifted in his chair. “I probably sound judgmental. But things have happened in my life that make it hard to trust people.”

Adele fingered the gold cross on the chain around her neck. “The one person you can always trust is God.”

“Why would I? He hasn’t exactly been there for me.”

“Maybe He’s been closer than you think.”

Murray clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything.

“You think He’s responsible for the pain you’ve suffered?”

“He could’ve prevented it. Isn’t that the same thing?”

Adele could almost hear the door to Murray’s heart slam shut. Time to change the subject.
Lord, help me to understand him. And show him Your love.

Murray tilted his head back and downed the last of the lemonade. “Thanks for the cold drink. And the work. I’d better get down to Zoe B’s and hook up their new computer.”

“You know how to do that, too?”

“Actually, I’m good with computers.” Murray’s expression softened. “I wasn’t always homeless.”

“Well, I may hire you to help me get set up. I’ve been thinking about getting one of those little laptop computers. I want to send email. Zoe insists it’s not difficult, but my eighty-six-year-old brain isn’t so sure.”

“It’s the easiest thing in the world,” Murray said. “Call me when you’re ready. I’ll set you up and show you how to use it. It’s really simple.”

“All right. I will.”

Adele walked him to the front door and out onto the porch.

“Thank you for doing such a nice job of painting that back bedroom. The color is much more to my liking.”

“I enjoy working for you, Mrs. Woodmore. Call me anytime.” Murray started down the steps and turned around. “Oh … and if Flynn comes by looking for me, please don’t tell him where I am. I’m done trying to help him.”

Zoe took Grace by the hand and walked over to the table by the window at Zoe B’s Cajun Eatery. The child crawled up in the booster seat in the chair next to Father Sam and across from Hebert and Tex.

“And who’s dis
petite fille?”
Hebert leaned forward, his arms folded on the table.

“It’s
me!”
Grace giggled.

“Me?” Tex looked at Hebert and shrugged. “Do we know anyone named Me?”

“Are you Me Broussard?” Father Sam asked.

“No, I
Grace Brew-sar!”
She giggled again, pointing to herself.

“
You’re
Grace Broussard? Den we
do
know you.”

Hebert tapped her on the nose, evoking a belly laugh that turned her topaz eyes to slits.

Zoe enjoyed this little ritual that had developed between her favorite customers and her daughter and couldn’t quite remember what life was like before she had Grace.

“Is it okay with you fellas if Grace watches you play checkers while she has a snack? Her afternoon babysitter’s going to be late.”

“Okay wid me.” Hebert picked up Grace’s hand and kissed it. “I always win when Miss Grace watches.”

“You always win—period,” Tex said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The bell on the front door tinkled, and Murray Hamelin came inside, toolbox in hand. He caught Zoe’s gaze and walked over to her.

“I’m all set. Where’s your computer?”

“In the office,” Zoe said. “Out in the alcove. I’ll show you. Guys, if you need anything, tell Savannah I said it’s on the house.”

Zoe walked out of the dining room and into the alcove, and unlocked the door to the office.

“Normally, I’d call the Geek Squad.” She went inside and flipped the light switch. “But Noah said you were good with computers so Pierce and I decided we’d rather give you the business.”

“I appreciate that.”

“The laptop is still in the box—there on the desk. Where’d you learn computers?”

“I had a life before things took a nosedive. Computers and I have always gotten along. I understand them. And I’m a lot more reasonable than the Geek Squad.”

“And you stand behind your work?”

“Absolutely. I’ll get you completely set up and running with all the software you purchased. I charge a flat rate of seventy-five dollars. I don’t charge you extra if I have to come back and tweak it.”

“Fair enough.”

There was a knock on the door. Zoe looked through the peephole and saw her head waitress, Savannah Surette. She opened the door.

“Sorry to bug you.” Savannah put her hands behind her head and tightened her ponytail. “There’s a Flynn Gillis here to see Murray.”

“Could you tell him I’ve left?” Murray said. “Or that you can’t find me. I don’t want anything to do with the guy. He can’t be trusted.”

Savannah locked gazes with Zoe. “He
is
a colorful character. Long, stringy hair. No shirt. The sort that better fits the clientele at the Den, if you know what I mean.”

“Can you see Murray behind me?” Zoe said.

Savannah shook her head. “You’re in the way. I hear his voice though.”

“Go back and tell Flynn you looked for Murray and didn’t
see
him, which is technically true. Suggest that he might want to check back at Haven House. If he gives you any trouble, come back and get me.”

“Will do.”

Zoe shut the door and turned to Murray, who was removing the packing from the laptop he had pulled out of the box.

“I’m uncomfortable telling lies,” she said. “Even white ones. What’s up with Flynn?”

“He’s the one guy at Haven House I just don’t like. Every time I give him a break and pay him to help me with a job, he blows it. Earlier today, he backed out of helping me move Adele Woodmore’s furniture. That’s it. I’m done helping him.”

“He has to work to stay at the halfway house, doesn’t he?”

“That’s the rule. But he’s shown no initiative. If he gets kicked out, it’s his own fault.”

At six fifteen that evening, Murray ran up the front steps at Haven House, pushed open the front door, and was hit with a delicious, spicy aroma that seemed to permeate the living room.

Father Vince came down the hall from the kitchen, still dressed in his cleric shirt, munching something crunchy. “There you are. I was afraid you were going to miss our Tuesday-night jambalaya.”

Murray smiled. “After I finished setting up the computer at Zoe B’s, I went down to Cypress Park and walked around—then sat on a park bench and fell asleep. I just woke up a few minutes ago. How’s that for a confession?”

Father laughed. “Honest.”

“I was scheduled to set the table. Am I too late?”