Murder in the Rue Ursulines (14 page)

I stared at him. “Venus and Blaine are assigned to the case? Yes, I know them both quite well.”

“Were they by any chance the officers who investigated the two killings you committed?” Again, he used that accusatory tone that made me want to punch him in the face.

 
“Yes, they were.”

“Okay, let’s stop there for a minute.” Storm replied. “You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?” He shook his head. “O. J.’s lawyers were able to convince a jury that despite all the overwhelming evidence against him,  the entire Los Angeles police department had entered into a conspiracy to frame him, and may have even murdered Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman themselves to bring O. J. down. How hard would it be to be to convince a jury that Venus and Blaine conspired with you to frame Freddy Bliss? Not hard at all.”

“The two men you killed were murderers. You saved the city—and the police department—a lot of hassle and the cost of a trial by killing them, you know that?”

“That isn’t what happened!” My mind was starting to spin out of control. “Glenn Austin was trying to kill me—and Lenny Pousson was holding a gun on me and several other people…” I was having trouble breathing.

“Are you all right?” There was concern in his voice. “We can take a break, if you need to collect yourself.”

“Let me get some water. There’s a fountain in the hall, right?” It was the beginning of an anxiety attack. I got up, black dots dancing in front of my eyes.
Focus on your breathing, you’re on a warm beach with white sands.
I staggered out into the hall and drank, taking small sips, trying to keep my breathing steady. When I was back under control, I walked back into Storm’s office. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Since the flood, I occasionally have anxiety attacks. I can control them—but sometimes…”

“I totally get it. No need to explain to me,” he replied in a gentle tone. “Did you stay, or did you evacuate?”

“I evacuated.”

“We stayed.” Storm replied, a weird look coming over his face. “I sometimes think those of us who stayed behind had it easier—I mean, those of us whose houses didn’t go under. Well, mine did—I lived near Broadmoor—but my grandparents have a house in the Garden District and we went there, my wife and I, and the rest of the family.”

“Where are you living now?” I took another sip of the water.

“Still with my grandparents.” He shrugged. “What can you do?”

“I’m sorry.” We all had stories. In the months after the flood, as everyone came back with their own horror stories, we sometimes got tired of talking about it. But, as I told Paige, we couldn’t cut people off and not let
them
talk about it. Talking was helping people heal, even though it reopened our wounds. There was a long time when it seemed like none of us would ever be able to move on, because just when we established some semblance of normality, of control, we’d run into someone else who’d just come back. They’d have to tell their story,  and you’d have to tell yours, tearing the scab off the wound.

He waved his hand. “Well, we’re rebuilding. It’s just taking forever. You have no idea how bad I want to get back into my own house. Can’t really complain—I’m living in the height of luxury in a mansion instead of a FEMA trailer—but it’s not home.” He shrugged. “You ready to continue?”

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Why were you hired by the defendant, Freddy Bliss?”

“I was hired to find out who was sending him threatening e-mails.”

“And did you find out?”

“Yes, they were sent from a laptop computer registered to Glynis Parrish…” I stopped. “Oh my God.”

“Exactly.
You
were hired to find out who sent the e-mails.
You
found out it was Glynis Parrish.
You
were on the street, the very block, she lived on around the time she was killed.
You
have killed two people before, in ‘self-defense.’” He made air quotes with his fingers as he said self-defense. “Loren, or whoever Freddy’s attorney is, should it get that far, is going to need to create a reasonable doubt in the jurors’ minds. Ask yourself, Chanse—if you were on that jury, trying to decide if Freddy Bliss, a movie star you feel like you know, someone you are familiar with, killed his ex-wife—or was it this shady private investigator, deeply connected to the investigating officers,  who has already killed two people and gotten away with it—possibly with the assistance of the police?” He finished his coffee and set it down on the table. “And the police are going to be looking long and hard at you too. The police are never really thrilled with coincidences—at least that’s been my experience. And now…”

“Uh…Storm…there’s one other little coincidence you should know about.”

“Oh, Lord. I don’t think I like that tone.”

  “There’s a good chance my fingerprints are on the murder weapon.” I told him about handling the Emmy.

***

And now, sitting in the very same interrogation room I’d been taken to after I’d killed Lenny Pousson, a psycho who’d been responsible for the deaths of at least thirty people,  I could feel my mind starting to go down the dark path of terror.
But Venus knows me, she’s my friend, she knows the circumstances in which I’ve killed before. She’s not going to believe for a minute that I killed Glynis Parrish. Deep breaths, Chanse, you can’t have an anxiety attack in here.

I’d considered taking a Xanax, but Storm had vetoed that. He felt it was better for me to have an anxiety attack in front of Venus rather than have my mind addled by drugs.

“So, you have information about the killing of Glynis Parrish?” Venus’ face was impassive. “Why does that not surprise me?” She shook her head. “You always seem to have your nose stuck into places it shouldn’t be.”

“Yes.” I replied, ignoring everything else she’d said. It was a technique I recognized, trying to goad me into saying something I shouldn’t.

“Start at the beginning.” She pulled a digital recorder out of her jacket pocket. “Any objections to having this interview taped?”

“None whatsoever, Detective,” Storm replied.

She gave him a look that was part irritated, part affectionate. “Thank you, counselor. How’s the family? I haven’t run into that annoying brother of yours lately.”

“He’s doing quite well.” He returned her look with a broad smile.

She clicked the recorder on. “Good. Shall we start?”

I glanced over at Storm, who gave me a slight nod. “Yesterday afternoon, I was hired by Loren McKeithen to conduct an investigation on behalf of clients of his. The clients were Freddy Bliss and Jillian Long.”

The only change in her facial expression was the slight lift of her right eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, did they hire you to find out?”

“Don’t answer that,” Storm interrupted. “I am instructing my client not to answer any questions regarding the investigation he was hired to conduct.” He opened his briefcase and handed her a copy of the confidentiality agreement.

Venus pulled out a pair of reading glasses and read it over. A vein was throbbing on her right forehead—a sign she was getting irritated. “All right then. But I have to ask, in that case,  what are you doing here then, Chanse?”

“Last night, I was meeting Paige for dinner at Port of Call.” I went through the entire thing, from the moment I found a parking spot till I rounded the corner of Ursulines and saw someone walking out of the house. “At the time, Venus, I would have sworn it was Freddy Bliss…but now I’m not so sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You were sure, and now you aren’t? May I ask why?”

I swallowed. “Well, it was from a distance of forty yards and it was dark outside. The person I saw was about the same height as Freddy, and he had the same kind of build. So I automatically assumed it was Freddy. Now I’m not so sure.” I cleared my throat.

“Have you spoken to your clients since then?”

“Yes. When I was leaving Port of Call I received an unexpected call on my cell phone from Loren McKeithen, who asked me to come to their house. This was around seven-thirty, eight o’clock; I’m not entirely sure of the time. I went over there, and once I arrived, they told me that Glynis Parrish had been murdered, and they asked me to stop investigating what I was working on, and to start looking into Glynis’s death. That was when I told them I’d seen Freddy coming out of a house on Ursulines just before six o’clock. They told me I was mistaken, that Freddy and Jillian had been together since they left Loren’s office and our meeting.”

“And that’s when you began to question your identification?”

Venus held up a hand. “Chanse, since you’re not sure—“ her voice took on a sarcastic edge, “—who you saw coming out of the crime scene, you need to give me a description. If you would be so kind.”

“Well, he looked to be about five-five, maybe a hundred and forty pounds?” I closed my eyes and thought. “He was wearing an LSU hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled down low over his face. The upper part of the face was either covered or shadowed. When he got under the street light, I got a pretty good look at the exposed part of his face, and that’s why I thought it was Freddy Bliss. This person had the same kind of jaw structure as Freddy, but I couldn’t really get a good look at the nose. He was wearing an old pair of ratty-looking low-rise jeans, and I didn’t get a look at his shoes.

“He stopped under the streetlight, lit a cigarette, and started walking in the direction of the river, very quickly. I thought about calling out to him—thinking it was Freddy—but when he got to the corner at Dauphine Street, he started running, and then disappeared in the fog.” I shrugged. “I just went on to meet Paige.”

Venus gave me a ghost of a smile. “Did you mention any of this to Paige?”

“Um, no.”

“She’s going to kill you, you know.” The smile broadened. “She’s been bitching about having to get an interview with Freddy and Jillian for a couple of days now—and you have, or had, access to them?”

I gave her a sickly smile back. “She mentioned it at dinner, actually. But I’d signed a confidentiality agreement…”

“Like she’ll care?” Venus’ smile grew wider. “Off the record, I wouldn’t want to be you. She’s going to skin you alive.”

“Are we finished here?” Storm asked, glancing at his watch.

Venus gave him a look that would have killed a lesser person. “For now, yes. But I will most likely have some more questions for your client.” She turned back to me as she said
your client.
“For your sake, Chanse, I’d advise you not to speak to either Freddy Bliss or Jillian Long, and of course, don’t leave town. For any reason.”

I bit my lip. “Do you have an exact time of death yet?”

Venus sighed. “We’ve already released this information to the press, so it won’t hurt anything for me to tell you. Her assistant, Rosemary Shannon, left her alone in the house around four. Glynis Parrish asked her to leave as she was expecting someone, and she wanted to meet with the person privately. She told Ms. Shannon not to come back until after six. Shannon returned around six-thirty, and found the body.” Her eyes glinted. “And I am sure you already know that the first people Ms. Shannon called were your clients, rather than the police.”

“So, basically, she was killed between four and six-thirty?”

“Yes.”

“Fingerprints on the murder weapon? I’m asking because I touched it.”

“You
what?
”

“In the course of my investigation for Freddy and Jillian, I interviewed Glynis Parrish. She invited me to pick up her Emmy.” I was wincing inwardly, knowing how lame it sounded. But Storm had advised me to mention it up-front.

Venus repeated what I said, her voice displaying a dangerous edge. “She invited you to pick up her Emmy.”

I shrugged. “She said everyone wanted to.”

“Uh-huh.” She stared at me, perfectly conveying that she realized I was either crazy or a liar.

I kept silent, not wanting to blink first..

“We’re running the prints now.” She waved tiredly. She turned the recorder off. “Thank you for coming in, Chanse. We’ll be in touch.”

Storm handed her a business card. “I want you to know that my client is available whenever you need him, but the arrangements need to be made through me. No one from the police department or the district attorney’s office is to speak to him or make any arrangements to talk to him other than through me.”

Venus sighed. “Understood.”

Once we were outside the station, Storm clapped me on the back. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? Can I drop you at home?”

“No.” I replied, giving him a weak smile. “Thanks, though. I think I’m going to go have lunch somewhere.”

“Well, you have my cell if you need me.” He leaned closer to me. “Stay away from Frillian—I think that’s the wisest thing you could do right now.”

“Thanks.” I walked down Royal Street. The sun was shining, and it was in the low seventies. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and turned it on. It beeped to let me know I had a message.

I dialed into the voice-mail, and winced.

“Chanse, you miserable lying sack of shit!”
It was Paige.
” I cannot fucking believe you sat there and listened to me bitch all that time about how impossible it would be to get an interview with Freddy and Jillian, and the whole time you could have gotten me in there! This is how you pay me back for all the goddamned favors I’ve done for you over the years? You are DEAD to me, you hear? DEAD. TO. ME. I am so pissed off at you right now—oh, wait a minute. They made you sign a confidentiality agreement, didn’t they? They all do that. But damn it, Chanse! How could you not even HINT at this? Call me when you get this—I promise I won’t rip off your head and shit down your neck the way you so richly deserve…Jesus Christ on the cross, Chanse. Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into? You’d better not be giving interviews to anyone besides me, do you hear me? If you do, I will skin you alive, I will boil you in oil…if you don’t give me an exclusive, I swear I’ll—“ BEEP.