Too Far Gone (5 page)

11

When the phone rang, Michael Manseur had been asleep less than forty minutes. His wife, Emily, rolled over to face him as he put the receiver to his ear. The clock read 5:12. Manseur repressed a groan.

“Hello?”

“Detective Manseur, Jackson Evans.”

Manseur sat up. “Yes, sir.”

“I'll see you in my office in one hour.”

Manseur started to say something, then realized that his superintendent had already hung up.

“Is everything all right?” Emily asked.

“Cover your eyes, doll. I need to turn on the light for a second.”

“You're not getting enough sleep, Michael,” she scolded gently. “You need to take a few days off.”

“That isn't going to happen any time soon.” He settled back into the pillows with a soft sigh. “With authority comes sacrifice.”

“You didn't sleep a night through when you
weren't
head of Homicide.”

“I didn't?” he said, smiling. “No, I guess not. Shouldn't miss what I never had.”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“The super.”

“What did he want?”

“He wants you and the girls to evacuate to Birmingham.”

“The hurricane isn't definitely coming here, Michael. If it becomes obvious that it is, we'll go.”

“Get everything packed this morning. I filled the Toyota last night. I want you and the girls gone while the going's good. No arguing, please, Emily. I can't get my work done if I'm worried about y'all.”

“Okay. We'll leave this afternoon. Now, what did Evans really want?”

“I think he wants to give me a lesson on how gravity affects stinky objects that have been set into motion down an incline.”

Emily laughed, placed her hand on his arm. “You need to learn to step out of the way of trouble, Michael.”

“Darling, I try. But sometimes the trouble that gets in my way comes at me faster than I can jump clear.”

12

As much as Alexa wanted to help Casey, it wasn't going to happen unless Jackson Evans asked her to help, and that was no more likely to happen than the moon was likely to deflate. She had packed her bag, was dressed and watching the latest hurricane news on the Weather Channel, glad she was leaving before the tempest came roaring in from the Gulf of Mexico. She had made arrangements to have a cab pick her up at the lobby entrance in thirty minutes, which gave her three hours before her nine-twelve flight, plenty of time even if traffic was heavy, or an accident stopped traffic. The room phone rang twice before she picked it up.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Special Agent Keen?” a stern female voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Please hold for the director.”

FBI Director Bender?
Alexa waited with the phone frozen to her ear, a hollow churning in her stomach. It was a feeling she was familiar with. She had experienced it on the occasions when she was waiting to be disciplined.

After a long pause, during which time the weatherman on her television set droned on about Katrina, there was a click and a man's voice filled the earpiece.

“Agent Keen, I've heard a lot of good things about you. I need for you to do me a big favor.”

“If I can, sir.”

“It's just come to my attention that a fellow named…” he paused, Alexa assumed so he could check a note, “Gary Alexander West has gone missing. I was informed that you are already familiar with this incident.”

“I am.”

“Gary West is married to the niece of a valuable friend of the Bureau, a man I have known for some time. I understand you have met Dr. LePointe and his niece.”

“Casey West. Yes, sir.”

“What is your assessment of the situation?”

“I'm not sure what the situation actually is. It's sort of hard to read at this point. Gary West is missing, and the authorities are looking for him.”

“What is your personal impression, Agent Keen?”

The director of the FBI wants me to tell him what my gut feeling is?
“At the moment there's no evidence it's an abduction. While there's no indication that this
is
a kidnapping, I don't think it can be ruled out, sir. There are circumstances that make me think abduction is very likely, but at this time there's no request from the locals for us to become involved. I believe the situation warrants close monitoring though.”

“Is it, in your opinion, beyond NOPD's capabilities?”

“Detective Manseur is in charge here, and he's a good and competent man. That said, there's a political angle that could potentially lead to a tragedy. It's complicated, and I'm not sure I have enough information or understanding of the precise politics to make a thorough judgment at present.”

“Meaning what exactly, Agent?”

“Dr. LePointe appears to be
the
VIP here. The locals are not going to do much that the doctor doesn't support. The family fortune he heads makes him an indispensable asset to the community. I think the concerns he has for his niece's best interests, for his family's reputation, and his nephew-in-law's best interests may be in that order. I think he sees this incident more as an intrusion by the authorities and a potential embarrassment to his niece than a danger for Gary West.”

“New Orleans is a political cesspool. And when I say that, I could be sued by cesspools for slander.”

“Sir…”

“Everybody knows it, Agent. Dr. LePointe is the closest thing to a god in that particular kingdom, and this Detective Manseur's ability aside, the whole bunch has got to be already tripping over one another to kiss LePointe's ring. Here's what we're going to do: You're going to be my eyes and ears on this. I want you to interface with Chief Jackson Evans. I want you to play the role of adviser to NOPD and be our liaison. If this isn't an abduction, you can back off, the NOPD will appreciate whatever help we gave them, and I won't forget your help. If it turns out to be a kidnapping, you'll be right there on top of things. If you have to hurt some feelings, do it. I know you'll do the Bureau proud, Agent Keen. I'm counting on you to help keep this low-profile, because the family deserves our discretion. If necessary, you request a Bureau team. Call on the New Orleans field office if you need to. The lab is yours as needed. We'll give your evidence top priority. You are representing me personally as well as the Bureau. Make us look good. Find Gary West. That's a direct order.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Be as gentle with Evans as possible, but don't let him block you. We don't want the locals to think we're working at cross-purposes or trying to steal their thunder. This is a new day for the Bureau, and all that. If we're going to build bridges of trust and cooperation between ourselves and other law enforcement departments, we have to do whatever it takes. But if the locals get in your way, don't hesitate to break a few heads. We are the Federal Bureau of Investigation after all.”

Bender hung up.

Alexa set the phone in its cradle, sat down on the edge of the bed, and stared at the wall trying to figure out just what the hell had happened in the hours since Casey West had walked out of her hotel room. She glanced up at her image in the mirror and was surprised by the smile she was wearing.

13

Alexa took a taxi from the Marriott. The radio was tuned to a local station so the driver could keep up with the hurricane. The driver wore a bowling shirt, a herringbone wedge cap, and a patch over one eye. A short, thick cigar jutted out of the side of his mouth like a rotten oak limb.

“…joining the governor of Louisiana, Kathleen Blanco,”
the announcer said.

“Governess a' Loosana, Katie Blanko,” the driver corrected. “She good somewhat, and perty decent-lookin', but she ain't no Edwin Edwards. He was a man knew what this state needed—specially N'awlins. Rest of the state hate N'awlins, always has, even though this where the money flows out to the rest of the state.”

“I understand he was more concerned with what
he
needed,” Alexa offered, since the moon-faced flamboyant white-haired Cajun Edwin Edwards was spending his golden years in a federal stir for taking bribes as fast as people wanting state favors could offer them up. His corruption seemed to have been a secret the entire state was in on.

“He was a great man, that man. Lived large like a king.”

“He had sticky fingers,” Alexa pointed out.

“Now, of course he took a little taste here and there, but if he don't take the money the rich companies and all them that's payin' for something they need, somebody else will. Man be crazy not to get his own piece 'fore the rest of the dogs run in.”

“The old finite-amount-of-graft argument,” Alexa said, reaching into her purse for cash. “I've heard that one before. It rarely works.”

The governor went on with her message,
“…so, since it is certain that Hurricane Katrina will make landfall on the Louisiana Coast late tomorrow night, and based on predictions of her strengthening into a category five, I am declaring that a state of emergency now exists and, as governor, I am ordering the National Guard to mobilize in Baton Rouge. People living in low-lying areas should evacuate to safer ground far inland immediately. I…”

“That storm gone turn toward Texas, she gone turn west an' leave us alone. You gone see it fo' yo' self.”

“You aren't evacuating?”

“Where I'm go'n go? I got a wife likes it right here. I got four cats that's all old and crotchety. We go'n be safe enough in Chalmette. Even if the wind comes, by the time it gets up here, we blow back at it from the front porch.” He laughed.

“I'll need a receipt,” she told the driver.

He handed her a printed receipt and winked at her. “This police headquarters. You in trouble with the law, little girl?”

“Perpetually,” she replied, laughing as she slid out on the sidewalk side.

Alexa looked up at the New Orleans Police Department and took a deep breath. She passed the eternal flame monument dedicated to officers killed in the line of duty and walked into the glass-fronted reception area. After she showed the disinterested policewoman behind the counter her FBI credentials, the woman made a call, handed Alexa a visitor's pass, and told her,” Someone will be right down for you.”

Fifty seconds later, a woman in a business suit exited the elevator, strode over the composite-stone flooring to Alexa, and ordered her to follow her upstairs.

They rode up in silence with an assortment of police detectives and office workers. The escort stepped out and, walking fast down the wide corridor, led Alexa through a waiting room, an outer office, and to a door marked
SUPERINTENDENT OF POLICE
. The woman tapped twice and swung open the door, stepping aside to let Alexa pass into an expansive room where framed photographs, awards, and newspaper and magazine articles pertaining—and flattering—to Jackson Evans covered the walls like scales on a carp.

Jackson Evans sat regally behind his desk in his uniform. Michael Manseur was slumped in the chair opposite. Both men stood when she entered.

“Come in, Alexa,” Evans boomed in his finest microphone-ready voice. “We've been expecting you.”

“Detective Manseur,” Alexa said, nodding, “Superintendent Evans.”

“Please, in this room, it's Michael and Jackson,” Evans corrected. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Alexa?”

“No, thank you…Jackson,” she said, cordially, trying not to smile at how the men's names fit together into what some would see as a comical arrangement. She took the chair beside Manseur. “Nice to see you again, Detective.”

“My pleasure, Agent Keen,” Manseur said, suddenly yawning into his hand. “Excuse me.”

“So I guess we all know why we're here, Alexa.” Evans sat down and rocked back in his chair, crossing his legs. “I had a brief conversation a little while ago with your director. He asked me if it might be advantageous if the FBI were to maintain a presence in the form of one Special Agent Alexa Keen. He also offered expedited lab service and whatever additional manpower support we should require, which Agent Keen would coordinate. I must say that having the Bureau's resources at our disposal is a plus. Let's hope that Mr. West comes home with a hangover and his tail tucked between his legs and that we won't need the FBI's gracious assistance.”

Alexa nodded. Manseur sat in silence.

“If he's going to return under his own steam, he'll likely do it by noon,” Evans said. “Can we all agree on that? Hell, maybe he evacuated ahead of his wife and daughter.”

“I suspect that's correct,” Manseur said. “Not that he evacuated. That he'll come in by noon if he can do so.”

“Let's hope so,” Alexa said.

Evans went on, smiling, “Alexa, I've been talking to Michael and this is how we both think this should work. Michael will be handling this as his case along with Kennedy of Missing Persons. I know this is a missing persons case and should be Kennedy's baby until such time as the situation changes, but I believe that, due to Detective Kennedy's lack of experience with high-profile, high-pressure cases, Michael should head the team. I hope you can work alongside them, Alexa, to monitor the situation as things develop and not seize the case.”

“If there even is a case,” Alexa replied. “Might just be premature evacuation.”

Evans nodded, his smile drying up.

“Michael has agreed to work on this case exclusively until it's successfully resolved.”

Alexa nodded slowly. Evans wanted only to come out of this with applause from the right people, and hopefully a nice award for his wall. She heard herself say, “Of course.”
As long as you don't put up any walls I have to knock down.

“I hope it won't take too long,” Manseur said, sadly.

“It shouldn't take long,” Jackson Evans said. His words contained equal parts of optimism and threat.

If Gary West didn't come back, Alexa wondered, how long would it be before she'd have to shove everybody to one side so she could do what needed to be done?