Too Far Gone (19 page)

         

42

Alexa followed Casey West's Range Rover, glancing down to find Manseur's number in her phone's directory and press the button to dial him. He answered immediately.

“Yeah, Alexa.”

“Michael, the West letter is a fraud, so the hunt for Gary West is back on. I think LePointe or Decell authored it.”

“You sure?”

“Casey said Gary writes everything out by hand and it isn't in his voice at all and he wouldn't send it to LePointe because he hates him. I have the letter with me. We won't find West's prints on it, but it gave me an opportunity to get LePointe's print for reference, and I'm on the way to get some of Gary's things.”

“Why would the doctor try something so transparent?”

“Desperation,” Alexa said. “We're ripping his world apart and he can't do anything about it.”

“Where are you now?”

“I'm following Casey to her house for Gary's fingerprints. I'll see you at HQ in half an hour or so. You'll be there?”

“Where else would I be? The mayor's got the press assembling and he's going to get the cops to go door to door to enforce the order. They're going to pull every available cop off whatever else they're working on.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd think LePointe had something to do with the hurricane's timing.”

“I wouldn't bet any of my money he didn't,” Manseur said.

         

43

Casey sat at the dining table where Alexa had first met her, crying. Grace Smythe, who had finished seeing after her parents' packing, had been there when they'd come in and had taken Deana out in the backyard and was playing with her, which amounted to making sure the child didn't jump into the pool.

“I never thought Uncle William could be so horrible. It makes me wonder if he's behind Gary's disappearance, and that letter is supposed to give Decell the time he needs to get everything cleaned up so nobody can prove anything. Is that possible? Kenneth Decell knows how to cover things up. You're never going to find Gary,” Casey sobbed. “Unko knew Dorothy Fugate
very
well. Very, very well. Boy, did he know her well!”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I saw him with her. Once, seven, eight years ago when my grandmother and Aunt Sarah were away in New York and I was supposed to be staying with a girlfriend, I came back home to get something. The servants were all off that day. I used my key, and as I was passing his office—the door was cracked open—Dorothy was bent over on his desk naked except for the nurse hat and he was behind her. His pants were down and he was standing there—you know.” Casey smiled. “She was chanting.” Casey laughed suddenly. “I can't say it. It's too vulgar.”

“Go ahead,” Alexa said. “We're adults.”

“‘Oh, Dr. Fuckerman! Oh, Docky Big Dick! Oh, pour it to me, Dr. Fuckerman! Dr. Fuckerman. How distinguished!'”

Alexa didn't mean to, but she laughed too.

“‘Oh…Docky Dick! Pour…it…to me! Heeeere I come again, Dr. Fuckerman!' And Unko's bare buns and those socks being held up with those garters and his shoes on. Shirt and tie in place! It was like a…a Monty Python skit.”

Casey leaned back and laughed harder. Soon, they were both laughing.

“He and Dorothy carried on for years. My aunt Sarah and grandmother knew it and they ignored it the way someone knows their adult child is sneaking a cigarette and they don't mention it. Aunt Sarah was never in love with my uncle. I'm not sure she liked him much or had any respect for him. She stayed gone from our house more than she was there, and Uncle William didn't care.”

Casey used the word
house
instead of
home,
Alexa noted.

“As long as Aunt Sarah was in town for the right social events, he couldn't have cared less. The universe revolves around Uncle William.”

“Narcissistic personality,” Alexa said.

“That's what Gary says,” Casey told her. “He told me that Uncle William didn't love me because he didn't know how. Maybe it's true. He's always been so rigid. He sees everything in strict terms of how it will affect him, or the family's reputation.

“He's always thought I'm too soft to take an active part in the family trusts. Since I was very young, he's pecked at my self-esteem instead of building it, and berated me for being emotional and weak. He gives me a compliment and it's a barely concealed dig. He's passive-aggressive, like my grandmother was. My grandmother would say, ‘I like your hair short, Casey. It will look so much better when you've lost a few pounds.'

“I don't really remember my parents, but I know they were always holding me, kissing me. I think I can remember their laughter. Grandmother never laughed. Aunt Sarah used to laugh at the dinner table, and Uncle William and my grandmother would scowl at her like she'd passed gas. It was hell growing up in that hideous mausoleum. I know my parents' house wasn't like that. Do you know what it's like to grow up unloved and unappreciated?”

“He seemed very protective and complimentary about your work last night,” Alexa said, purposely not answering Casey's question.

“Only because Detective Kennedy called my work snapshots. Unko has called my photography a lot worse things, though. Grandmother said photography was a common pursuit. She wanted me to paint or sculpt as a hobby. ‘Why would you want to take pictures when you can hire a professional,' she said. Had I funded a photographic center for underprivileged children, or something that made the family look as though it cared about the poor, that would have been okay. When I started getting outside attention, praise from their social equals, and publicity in the right magazines, it became somewhat bearable. Of course, being a LePointe helped get the right sort of people interested in my work. The right curators, critics, gallery owners, corporate and museum collections…”

“Your work is remarkable,” Alexa said. “I've seen enough to know that who you are is irrelevant to the work. The accolades are well deserved.”

Casey smiled. “That's very kind of you.”

“It may be kind, but it's also the truth.”

“You grew up unloved,” Casey said, studying her. “Neglected.”

Alexa looked out at Deana, who was tugging flowers from their stems while Grace looked on passively.

“What makes you think that?” Alexa said. The denial she wanted to convey sounded false to her.

“Alexa, even a cat that's been raised since birth by a dog knows another cat when he sees one. I've felt it since the moment we met. Maybe that's why I know I can trust you. I'm sorry if I've overstepped. Your personal life is none of my business. This is all professional with you, and I understand that.”

Alexa knew exactly what it felt like to be unloved and beaten down by passive-aggressive people. But the emotional pain from her past wasn't something she could share with Casey West. She had always told herself that her history never adversely affected or interfered with her job. The idea that this woman and she had something that basic in common had no bearing on the job at hand. Alexa's empathy, while powerful, was irrelevant. Casey must see her only as a professional.

Alexa looked out again and caught Grace Smythe staring in at her from the garden. The assistant averted her gaze immediately. She suspected that Grace wasn't accustomed to being out of Casey's loop, and Alexa was sure she resented it.

“Forgive my prying?” Casey asked.

“It's okay,” Alexa said. “No childhood is perfect.”

“Please, Alexa. I want to know all about you. You probably know more about me than most people I've known for years.”

Alexa didn't want Casey's pity, but she thought it might help Casey to know she wasn't as alone as she felt. “My parents were addicts and low-level criminals feeding their habits. My father was killed by a store owner he was robbing. My mother died of an overdose when I was five. My little sister and I had no relatives, at least none that wanted to deal with two small children from a mixed-race relationship between two thieving junkies.

“We were split up and put into the foster system. We both acted out, so we were shuffled around a lot. When I was thirteen, this wonderful woman and her husband gave me a home, and when I asked, they brought my sister there and adopted us both. After that, life was easier. They were poor, but for the first time I felt loved and appreciated. Those people—and a very special young man who came into my life when I was fifteen—undid most of the emotional damage I sustained, by loving me unconditionally. I was unlucky for thirteen years, but lucky just the same. The way I see it, because of what my life was, I'm better able to relate to other people going through painful experiences.”

“Are you and your sister close?”

“We stay in touch. I get postcards from her from all over the place.”

Smiling warmly, Casey gripped Alexa's hands in hers. “When I found Gary, I felt truly loved and valuable as a human being for the first time in my life. I mean, after my parents were killed. I never felt loved between the time I lived here with them and here with Gary and Deana.”

“Beg your pardon? You mean in different houses.”

Casey looked at Alexa, perplexed. “Alexa, this was their house, my house,” she said. “My mother owned it. She refused to live in the big house with my grandmother like William and Sarah did. It stayed vacant, except for a caretaker, until I was old enough to move back in. The estate kept it up so it wouldn't lose value, and it was mine when I reached twenty-one. Unko and Sarah didn't think it was a good idea for me to move back in, but it was the only place I'd ever been happy and felt loved. And it's still the place where I am happiest and loved best.” She smiled warmly at Alexa. “As soon as you find Gary, it will be perfect again. You'll really like Gary.”

Alexa didn't know what to say. She was stunned that she and Casey were sitting in a twenty-six-year-old crime scene—maybe unaltered except for the removal of the mutilated bodies and a professional cleaning.

         

44

When his cell phone rang, Kenneth Decell was seated in an office at a bank, closed on Saturday afternoons to all but the most important customers, watching the distinguished-looking man across the room carefully count the bearer bonds he'd just placed on the conference table. Decell frowned when he saw the name on the phone's caller ID.

“Decell,” he said.

“Kenneth,” Dr. LePointe said, sounding exhausted. “Jesus Christ.”

“What is it?”

“I need you here now. I…well, truth is…I don't know…Truth is, this is all getting out of hand. Keen was here and she got Casey upset by telling her some things. Keen's a problem.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can get out of the bank,” he said. “I'm picking up your paper now. Relax. You have nothing to worry about.”
So much for playing all the chess matches at the same time,
Decell thought.

“Good. Kenneth, I don't know what I'd do without you. I depend on your expertise, loyalty, and discretion. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Decell closed the phone and smiled.
I know where you'd be without me. And so do you.

After the banker had finished placing the counted bonds in the valise, he locked it, placed LePointe's key on the table beside it, and stepped back, folding his hands so they covered his sex, posing like a mortician beside an open casket.

“Two and one-half million in ten-thousand-dollar denominations is the confirmed count,” the banker said, opening his fountain pen and placing it beside a document.

Decell crossed the room and lifted the valise.

“Please sign the receipt, Mr. Decell.”

Decell looked at the document and shook his head. “Dr. LePointe authorized it, didn't he?”

“Yes,” the banker said nervously. “He did. Over the phone.”

“Are you satisfied that the man on the phone was Dr. LePointe?”

“I've known William since grade school,” the banker replied. “It was he.”

“And they're his bonds to do with as he sees fit, right?”

The banker nodded.

“Then you can ask him to sign.”

“But I'm turning them over to you—”

“He said to, right?”

“Yes. But you are taking possession.”

“Okay. Hit
REDIAL
on my phone, or call him yourself and tell him he'll have to come sign the receipt. I'm not going to put my name on any piece of official paper.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, I can't possibly repay it if anything happens to it. If the FBI comes to you, you'll tumble to the badges and show the receipt to them, and they'll come to me and I'll have to account for it by explaining why I picked it up and what I did with it, which would be problematic. I doubt Dr. LePointe would like having his private business thrown back in his face by the authorities. Dr. LePointe is a major depositor and his family the major stockholder in this institution. You want to go against his wishes, be my guest. Maybe nothing will happen, but maybe the board of directors will suddenly decide this institution could use some fresh blood in your position. Dr. LePointe is under a great deal of stress, and where his family is involved…” Decell shrugged. “I'll just leave the bonds here and you can explain it to him. Maybe he'll just get in his car and come get them himself and sign your paper and have no ill feelings about it.”

“Take them.” The banker wiped the beads of perspiration from his upper lip with a handkerchief he pulled from his suit pocket. “Do you need an escort?”

“I don't,” Decell said, patting the gun in his shoulder holster. He lifted the valise and walked casually from the office.

         

45

The mayor of New Orleans and the governor were making another one of the many announcements that Alexa had heard earlier during the day.
“I have ordered the police to close off inbound traffic to New Orleans. As of four o'clock, all lanes of state roads are designated as outbound lanes only. We are opening the Superdome as an emergency shelter for residents who cannot leave the city. I have directed that city transit buses will carry residents to the shelter. Residents are directed to immediately evacuate Orleans, Jefferson, and St. Bernard parishes, in an orderly manner. Again, I want to stress that this is a mandatory evacuation and all residents in the affected areas must leave or they will be forcibly removed from their property by law enforcement officers.”

Alexa switched off the radio. She could use her identification to go where she needed to. Grace Smythe kept invading her thoughts as she drove to meet Manseur in his office. She would have sent the supposed West letter to the FBI labs, but she didn't want to lose the time it would take to courier a package to D.C. on the next flight out. She gave it to Manseur when she walked in, along with the envelopes containing her Glock magazines and some articles of Gary West's Casey had given to Alexa for collection.

“Tell your lab to hurry it up. We need to check for prints on the West letter. They'll probably find Casey West's, William LePointe's, and Kenneth Decell's. I seriously doubt you'll find Gary West's on either
his
envelope or the letter.”

“What about the letter carrier? Whoever picks up the mail and gives it to LePointe?”

“The envelope has a crack-and-peel stamp and a peel-and-stick flap, so forget DNA. And to answer your question, there's no mailman, because there's no cancellation mark.”

“So whoever came up with this brilliant subterfuge didn't actually bother to mail it.”

Alexa nodded. “Decell maybe, on LePointe's behalf. He told me Kenneth Decell had read it.”

“Not Decell's work,” Manseur disagreed. “He was too good a detective. He would have either mailed it or had LePointe say the letter was delivered to the gate by courier. I suspect LePointe just showed it to Decell, who didn't bother to look at the envelope, or doubted anyone would ask LePointe for the letter.”

“Know what I think?” Alexa asked.

“No man ever knows what a woman is thinking.”

Alexa smiled. “This letter was supposed to be misdirection, which opens an interesting avenue.”

“I'm listening,” Manseur said.

“I'm wondering if he knew that by the time anyone started snooping, it wouldn't matter.”

“Because the hurricane would destroy evidence?”

“No. Because he knew that Gary West was going to be home before that. The letter might be an impromptu ruse designed just to get Evans to call us off.”

“So we didn't find out about Sibby?”

“No. What if Gary's abductor contacted LePointe, and he's going to pay a ransom to get Gary West back safely? Doesn't want us in the way. How he accomplishes getting Gary back—whatever deception or ruse he employs—becomes irrelevant then because everybody's happy and Gary's back and nobody is going to look too closely at anything else. So Sibby stays hidden, which has been undone, but he wouldn't have known that would happen at the time he was pulling the plan together.”

“Makes sense,” Manseur said.

“Although I can't prove it yet, Sibby's vanishing act from the hospital, Gary's abduction, and the Fugate murder are directly related,” Alexa said. “The tipping of the press at this moment is too coincidental. The same people are behind the grab and tipping the press to Sibby's exit from River Run. I have a feeling that they knew about Sibby before they grabbed Gary, and they may have killed Fugate and framed Sibby. Maybe she didn't leave earlier because she hadn't done anything—didn't know Dorothy was in the basement.”

“That's a stretch. I mean, it might be true, but there's nothing to support it but your hunch. And the press might have been snooping on their own.”

Alexa nodded. “LePointe and Fugate were much more than coworkers. It's just my gut talking, but I think that not only did LePointe know Sibby was at Fugate's, but he knew Fugate was dead, and was only surprised that I brought it up. I'd bet his and Fugate's phone records will tie him to her.”

“He'll have plausible denial. You may well be right about the ransom,” Manseur said. “It would explain one thing.”

“What?”

“Why Kenneth Decell arrived at his office two hours ago, picked up a briefcase, and then went to a bank. He left the bank twenty minutes ago carrying said valise and proceeded directly to Dr. LePointe's house, arriving there twenty minutes after you and Casey West left.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because my old partner Larry Bond staked out Decell's office.”

“Your partner's working on this case?” Alexa asked.

“My
former
partner. We worked together for six years.”

“You failed to mention to me that you brought him in,” Alexa said.

“I just told you.”

“I'm not always good with time lines, but you mean to tell me your
ex-
partner wasn't already watching Decell's house when we were at River Run?”

“You think I'd keep information from you on purpose? I didn't think it was important, I guess. I didn't know for sure how Decell was involved.”

“Gosh, Michael, I sure hope not. If I thought I couldn't trust you, I'd be really upset. You
are
the one who pulled me into this mess,” she said, anger rising.

“Casey West did that,” he protested.

“If I hadn't been in Casey West's kitchen, she would never have asked for me. Who was it that woke me in the middle of the night, and placed me there?”

“Not like you were asleep.”

“Is this about who gets the credit?”

“No! Look, I wanted to compile more before we had a meeting to assimilate our separate findings and make a plan for bringing this to a
joint
close. Sometimes I play things close to the chest. Habit. I'm sorry.”

“Okay,” Alexa said. “Clean slate. So what have you compiled so far from Fugate's?”