Harrison Investigations 2 Ghost Walk (33 page)

He smiled, touched her hand. "No, I'm here for another matter, but… I think what happened to Andy has something to do with it."

"If I love him, I should have faith in him, right?"

"Blind faith isn't always a good thing."

"Oh, God! I can't imagine what he'd think if he knew I was here with you, talking like this," she murmured.

"Patricia, let me see what I can find out, if something is bothering him. How's that?"

She smiled. "You won't—"

"I swear, he'll never know we talked," Brent assured her.

Patricia rose. "I'm glad that Nikki has you," she said gently. "You really are something. Something good, I mean."

"Thanks."

She started to walk away, then turned back, frowning.

"She does have you, doesn't she? I mean, this isn't just a… "

The question took him by surprise, and it took him a second to answer. Then he said, "She has me. As long as she wants me."

He rose and joined her. As they walked out together, she studied him. "I hope that… well, I just hope that whatever you are… you don't hurt her."

"I would never hurt her."

Patricia looked away, then back at him. "Or cause her to be hurt?"

He felt a tightness around his heart. Could he cause her to be hurt?

No
. He wouldn't allow it to happen.

"I would die myself before allowing her to be hurt." Patricia smiled, then asked wistfully, "I wonder if Nathan feels that way about me. Never mind, don't answer. And ignore me. Go find Nikki." He nodded and left her.

 

Marc Joulette sat at his desk, not working. He shook his head. Massey looked up at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

Joulette pretended interest to the file in front of him. He didn't know what the hell to do.

"Are you going to try to call Haggerty?" he asked Massey.

Massey lifted his hands. "We don't know what the hell we're in for tonight."

"Right."

"So what would be the point?" He got up and walked away. Marc looked back at the file, but the words simply spun before his eyes.

He got up, figuring more coffee couldn't hurt.

As he crossed to the Mr. Coffee, he saw his partner.

Owen Massey was standing in an alcove, talking on his cell phone.

Marc walked back to his desk, sat, hesitated, stared in the direction in which Massey, now concealed by a dividing wall, had gone, then reached for the phone on his desk.

He set it back into the cradle, and pulled his own cell out of his pocket.

He was still talking when Robinson came walking over to him. He flicked his phone shut without finishing his conversation. "What is it, Robinson?"

"Thought you might like to know—we were just called to the building where Andrea Ciello lived."

"Yeah?" Joulette said.

"Her place was torn apart."

"Torn apart? It was robbed?"

"Hell if I know. We're going to have to get hold of her friends or someone, try to find out if anything was taken." He shrugged. "You try to give people a little time, but we should have had her friends in there, cleaning out the place before now. She didn't have any family, but her rent was paid through the end of October, so we didn't rush things. It doesn't look like a robbery, though it looks like someone was searching for something. The crime scene folks are working it now. But there was a stereo, DVD player, jewelry—none of it touched."

"Who put in the call?" Joulette demanded.

"Mrs. Montobello." He rolled his eyes. "She thought that Andy had come back as a ghost, that she was tearing her place up looking for something."

Joulette sighed. "And I'm willing to bet the other tenants were out, right?"

"On the nail," Robinson said. "The report is on my desk. Just wanted you to know you guys are welcome to it."

"Thanks," Joulette said. Robinson walked away, and Marc Joulette waited for Massey to return from his call.

 

When he left Patricia, Brent hopped on the streetcar and headed for the Garden District. When he arrived, it seemed at first that the cemetery was oddly quiet and empty. He closed his eyes, felt the mist sweep around him.

He opened his eyes, searching.

Here, there… a ghostly form, none of them Andy, and none of them Tom Garfield.

He hoped that Nikki hadn't left and felt in his pocket for his cell phone, thinking he would just give her a call. As he pulled it out, he wandered past her family mausoleum, hoping to find Andy Ciello.

She wasn't there.

On a hunch, he headed toward his wife's grave.

As he neared it, he dropped his phone.

Nikki was there.

But she was obscured by a strange man in a long black coat. He was tall, with long dark hair, and he looked like one of the weirdos who roamed the parish, like maybe he was convinced he was a vampire or something.

He looked as if he was threatening Nikki.

"Hey!" Brent yelled.

Nikki turned. The man reached out, as if to grab her.

Brent raced, adrenaline kicking through him, remembering his words to Patricia. He would die himself before he allowed Nikki to be hurt.

He tackled the stranger, and they fell to the ground together.

He heard Nikki scream, "Stop!" But the sound didn't filter through to the rational section of his mind. He flipped the man and straddled him. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing?"

To his amazement, the man—lean, with sharp, narrow features—stared up at him, not fighting and looking at him with something almost like amusement.

"Brent!" Nikki cried.

But he still ignored her, watching in confusion as the man started to smile. "Nikki, you didn't tell me that you'd hired a bouncer."

"What?" Brent said.

"I'm Max Dupuis." The man cleared his throat. "Your employer, I believe."

Brent remained very still for long seconds, feeling like an idiot. Then he rose, reaching down to help the other man to his feet.

He had definitely overreacted.

"Brent. Brent Blackhawk," he said.

Nikki was still staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. He gave her a grimace with a quick, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders that asked, How the hell was I supposed to know?

"I guessed you were Blackhawk," the man said. He still seemed amused, rather than offended. "I hear you're a natural."

"I know the area. A lot of facts and a lot of legends."

"Good to meet you."

"Yeah, um, sorry about that. I guess I'm a little tense. Nikki was mugged the other night."

"She was telling me," Max said, eyeing Nikki. Brent had to wonder if he'd hurt the guy. He was almost painfully thin, which made him appear even taller. If he were a teenager, he would be a Goth, but Max was no teenager. He appeared to be in his early to mid thirties. "I hear you ran the fellow down."

"No, I didn't catch him."

"You got him away from Nikki, that's what counts." He smiled. "So, got some time? How about some coffee?"

Brent kept from groaning aloud by glancing toward the ground. "I have some time," he said, looking at Nikki. Then he looked back at Max, and realized that suspicion was already creeping into him. So this was Max. Where the hell had he been all this time?

Out of town? Or lying low somewhere? Dressing up in a dark mask and attacking women in the street? And if so, why? Then there was the information he had just received about Nathan. There was only one thing to do, and that was check them all out one by one. He was certain of one thing, though: Madame's place was involved somehow.

He wondered about Max's arms. Was he a junkie? The man was thin enough. Scrawny, but he didn't look wasted. Then again, if you were selling drugs, and making a mint, you might well be smart enough not to sample your own wares.

Max, apparently oblivious to Brent's assessment, glanced at his watch. "Hell, not coffee. It's well past cocktail hour. Let's have a drink. On me. I've got my car, so we'll head back into the Quarter, if that's all right with you two?"

Nikki shrugged, frowning as she watched Brent. She seemed concerned, he thought, shrugging as he looked back at her. "Fine with me," he said.

Max started walking; Nikki did the same.

Brent held back for a few seconds. He touched the tomb, feeling that little stir of pain and nostalgia.

And he noticed the flowers that someone had brought. Nikki?

"Brent?" Nikki had turned back.

He smiled. "I'm with you. Right with you."

Max's car was a Lexus. The inside was clean—a surprise, since the outside of the car looked as if he had been driving through a swamp.

"Sorry," Max apologized. "I had her down to the bayou country. I was meeting with some shrimpers."

Nikki laughed. "Max, it looks as if you took the car straight
into
the bayou."

Nikki sat in front; Brent in the rear. Max was a good driver. He dexterously made a U-turn to head back to the Vieux Carré.

He caught Brent's eyes in the rearview mirror. "The shrimpers are having a rough time. They need legislation to stay afloat. We're shipping in foreign-caught, frozen shrimp, and families that have been in the industry for years are going to go down if new laws aren't passed. And the thing is, fresh shrimp, caught in our own waters, taste better. That's why you get some of the finest seafood you'll ever have right here in New Orleans. The thing is, I think folks would be furious about what's going on and they'd change things themselves if they were a bit more educated. If restaurants had to tell them where their seafood came from."

"Max, I thought you were in Colorado," Nikki said, mystified. "Don't get me wrong. I'm delighted that you're fighting for the shrimpers."

"What's the deal with the politicians?" Brent asked.

Max flashed him a rueful smile. "They all lie?" he suggested, then shrugged. "Who really knows? I'll say this, Harold Grant has done a lot of work for the industry, but… not enough. Billy Banks claims he's a powerhouse, and that things will get done when he's in office. Are you a local?"

"Yes, and no," Brent told him, leaning back. They had reached the Vieux Carré.

"Oh my God!" Nikki gasped suddenly.

"What?" both men asked.

"I forgot Julian."

"You forgot him?"

"He was in the cemetery with me for the tour," Nikki explained, pulling out her cell phone. Just as she did so, it rang.

"Julian?" Nikki said.

He and Max could vaguely hear the agitated sound of Julian's voice. Then Nikki said, "Okay, okay…
okay… okay
."

She clicked the phone closed and looked at Max. "Can we take a run back to the cemetery?" she asked.

Max laughed, and turned the car around.

"We have a meeting, a must-have meeting, because Max is back," she said.

"We do?" Max asked.

She frowned at him. "Please?"

"Sure. I'm a vicious boss, huh?"

"For today," Nikki said.

"Are you two speaking another language?" Brent asked.

Nikki turned, grinning. "Julian got himself too entangled too quickly. His sudden roommate found him in the cemetery. He told her that he has an important meeting."

"Ah," Brent murmured.

Julian was waiting at the cemetery gates. Susan had her arm looped through his.

Julian quickly introduced her to Max and Brent. As soon as they reached her hotel, Julian saw her out, disentangled himself quickly, slipped in next to Brent again and said, "Max, step on it."

Making a tsking sound in his throat, Max did so.

Julian leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. Then they flew open again. "Nikki, how could you do that to me?"

"Julian, I didn't know where you were."

"But you didn't look for me."

"Honestly, Julian, I'm so sorry. Max showed up, and then Brent came and nearly decked Max, and—"

"What?" Julian said, puzzled.

"I didn't know who he was," Brent explained. "I thought he was hitting on Nikki."

"I wasn't almost
decked
," Max protested.

"I tackled him," Brent said diplomatically. "He was with Nikki, and after what's been happening, I just jumped to conclusions."

Max shook his head. "Nikki is probably more at home in any of these cemeteries than anyone I know. If she thought she was in danger, she'd know just where to go. She knows which crypts have been abandoned. I bet she could hide out in any one of our cemeteries for a week and not be found. I've been around with her. I know a few of her little secret spots."

"I'm sure you're right—unless Nikki didn't know she should be hiding," Brent said.

"Where are we heading?" Julian asked Max.

"Wait a minute," Nikki interjected suddenly, glaring at Max. "You were in the bayou country, not far away, and you didn't come to Andy's funeral?"

Max shot her a quick glance. "Nikki, I'd only met her twice. And I was out on a shrimp boat."

"You were on a shrimp boat?" Julian demanded, stunned.

"Max, you were her boss," Nikki said, aggravated.

"Nikki, I gave you credit. You hired her." He hesitated for a minute. "You said she was clean."

"She
was
."

Max let out a sigh. "Oh, Nikki… one of your greatest virtues is your belief in people. Your insistence that the rest of the world is open and honest and good."

"Max, I'm not a blind idiot," Nikki said.

"Max," Brent interjected evenly, "even the police feel that Andy might well have been helped into the grave."

Max gave Brent a startled glance in the rearview mirror. "Why?"

"Because of another similar death," Brent said. "Even if you were in the bayou country you must have heard the news. An FBI agent named Tom Garfield—a man who was definitely as clean as a whistle—was found with enough heroin in his veins to kill an elephant."

"What would Andy have had to do with an FBI agent?" Max demanded, scowling.

"We met him at Madame's," Nikki explained. "Well, we didn't exactly meet him—we ran into him. I thought that he was a bum."

"She gave him a twenty," Julian said.

"Nikki, I'm sorry," Max said. "To tell you the truth, I was aggravated with you. I thought you made me hire a woman who ended up causing major problems."