Chapter 17
Thready late-morning traffic accompanied us as we headed up the entrance ramp to the highway. We’d barely reached the top when a song started blasting from the car speakers. It took me a moment of listening to the opening lines to recognize the Adele song “Water Under the Bridge.”
Cooper leaned forward and hit a button on the steering wheel, turning off the sound.
“I’d recommend that you don’t listen to any music while you drive, so you can concentrate.
Give it a few weeks of driving by yourself before you introduce music.
Adele’s perfect for starters. Or ABBA. Then you can ease into the heavier stuff, like Foo Fighters or Ozzy. ”
“Except I didn’t turn it on. And I definitely don’t have that song on my playlist. Maybe it’s on yours?”
“Adele? Um, no. Not that there’s anything wrong with her music; just not something I listen to.”
“So what do you listen to?”
He settled back in his seat, which in turn made me relax and loosen my hold on the steering wheel. “Oh, lots of stuff. I like jazz and the blues—it’s one of the reasons why moving to New Orleans was so appealing. And bagpipes.”
I almost swerved out of my lane. “Bagpipes? As in Scottish Highlanders in kilts?”
“Is there any other kind?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “They’re kind of soothing, actually. Once I move into my temporary apartment, we’ll have a quiet evening at home and I’ll play some of my favorite bagpipe music.”
“Sounds exciting,” I said, and I meant it, but not because of the bagpipes. “I didn’t know you’d found an apartment. Wasn’t Jolene supposed to be helping you find something? She didn’t mention it.”
“That’s because I haven’t told her yet. A coworker of mine is moving to Mandeville but he’s locked into a year-long lease on a two-bedroom apartment.
So I offered to accept a sublease from him.
I haven’t seen it in person, but he sent me pictures.
It’s new construction, so it’s not really our taste, but it’s got modern plumbing and a microwave, which is about all I really need right now.
It’s right on the parade route, so, come Mardi Gras, we’ll have a perfect vantage point. ”
“Sounds great.” I tried not to read anything into the mention of the words “our” and “we.” I wanted to sneak a look at him to gauge his expression, but I didn’t want to risk it.
I followed the GPS toward the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport.
It was pretty much a straight shot on I-10, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
I was a nervous driver, and taking a wrong turn would mess with my equilibrium and fragile confidence.
I managed to keep my calm despite a tailgating pickup and a tractor trailer hugging the line next to me.
When the large truck finally pulled ahead and the pickup sped away, I surreptitiously wiped my palms, one at a time, on my jeans.
“I’ve been thinking about the entities in my house,” Cooper said.
“ ‘My house’?”
“Yeah, well, I just need to meet with Beau and get the paperwork started so I can make it official, but for now I’m calling it mine.
Which means that whatever is still in there has become my problem.
If I were in Charleston and getting ready to buy a haunted house, I’d call Melanie.
But here, I only know of one person like that who might be able to help me. ”
“Beau.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to waste my time Googling psychics when I’ve seen him work and know he’s legit. I’m just not sure how to approach him.”
“He can be a bit prickly about his abilities. Hopefully, now that we’re close to putting his mother to rest, he can come to terms with his gift.
Kicking and screaming, sure, but he will.
If Melanie, who has spent most of her life singing ABBA out loud to block out the voices, can do it, anyone can.
I’ll be happy to talk with him on your behalf if you like. ”
“No. But if you could go with me when I approach him, I’d appreciate it.”
“Done and done. But let’s wait until after Adele’s funeral. I don’t want to throw anything else at him right now.”
“Of course. Any idea of when that will be?”
“No, but Christopher said that with all the publicity, they’ll want to close the case as soon as possible. I hope that means the coroner’s office is working overtime, because the entire Ryan family has been waiting for two decades for closure.”
“That’s assuming there won’t be a criminal investigation, right? If an expensive diamond is missing, and she was found where nobody expected to find her, they will probably want to investigate.”
I flipped on my blinker to change lanes at the first sign indicating the airport. “Yeah, probably. But after all this time, I’m doubtful any clues as to what happened to her will remain.”
“Unless Mimi sees something when she holds the rings.”
“Right,” I said. “We can only hope.”
“In the meantime, I’ll start digging into what’s going on at the Esplanade house to lay some groundwork before we approach Beau.
I hope he appreciates that I’m meeting him halfway.
I thought I’d re-create our evenings at your parents’ house on Tradd Street when we’d draw up elaborate charts and index cards and lay them all out on the dining room table—remember? ”
“I do. And sometimes we’d play backgammon, and I’d always beat you.”
I felt him looking at me, but I didn’t dare turn my head. “Funny, that’s not how I remember it. I recall winning every game except for the times I let you win.”
“I know you only said that because my hands are practically glued to this steering wheel and I can’t hit you. Just wait until I get out of the car.”
He laughed. “Anyway, I won’t go into detail now because you’re driving, but I’ve gone ahead and started making index cards in my head about all the things we do and don’t know about the identities of the three entities in the house.”
“Sybil, Patrick, and some guy.”
“A really angry guy. I’ll research the archives and look at previous residents of the home to try to figure out who it might be.
I’m leaning toward the father of the older sisters, whose second wife wasn’t immediately accepted by his daughters.
Maybe he’s still angry about that. Until I can do more research, the only other man who I know had a relationship with the house is Mark, Lynda’s father and Jessica’s husband.
But we don’t know if he’s dead. We don’t know if any of them are dead. They’re just…gone.”
“The house was built around the turn of the last century, so you’ll need to track down a lot of people. But it was held in the same family the entire time, which should make it easier.”
“I’m hoping,” he said. “Getting ahold of the police reports from the murder is on my first index card. Speaking with the two sisters…” He paused, and I felt him looking at me.
“Honey Meggison and Joan Wenzel,” I supplied.
“Right, Honey and Joan. From what you’ve told me, they sound like they’d welcome a fresh look at the case.”
“Yeah. I know they didn’t have a great relationship with their half brother, but they were very attached to their niece and sister-in-law. I think their loss hurt them deeply, but I didn’t get the sense that they felt the same about their half brother.”
“And then there’s the doll, which is the subject on my next index card.” He leaned over and stuck his hand beneath his seat. “No worries—it’s still there. Thankfully.” Sitting back, he said, “What do you know about it?”
“It did belong to Lynda. Mark bought it for her, but only to sit on a shelf and not be played with, since it’s a collector’s item. According to the sisters, it would make Mark really angry if he caught Lynda playing with it. But she loved it and they couldn’t keep it away from her.”
“So why didn’t Lynda take it with her when she left?” Cooper asked.
“That would be the million-dollar question, wouldn’t it?”
Cooper was silent as I signaled again to take the upcoming exit to the airport access road.
“I just can’t stop wondering what kind of guy buys his young daughter a doll and gets angry when she wants to play with it.
He sounds like a jerk, which could actually be a clue.
Maybe he was a jerk to the wrong people.
Maybe business associates. What line of work was he in? ”
“Honey mentioned that he imported textiles from the Middle East. He was a very wealthy man, with a big mansion on the lakefront, but his wife and daughter preferred to live with his mother in the little house on Esplanade. That says a lot about the man, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does.”
“You’re working on the next index card in your head, aren’t you? I can already see the title in your bold all-caps handwriting: JERK FATHER.”
He laughed. “You know me well.”
That would have been the perfect opening to ask him about the woman, except we were practically already at the airport and I wanted to make sure we had enough time to talk.
Instead, I said, “I’d like to know why that doll keeps following me around.
Maybe little Patrick is a prankster? Or Sybil?
Or some other spirit we’re not aware of.
We need to let Mimi get her hands on it, but that will have to wait.
But ‘creepy baby doll’ can be the next index card heading following ‘jerk father.’ If you have a cleaning lady, you might need to explain to her what you’re doing so she doesn’t get freaked out. ”
I began braking as I steered the car toward the exit ramp, but instead of feeling the car’s transmission downshift, the engine seemed to be revving. I glanced at the speedometer and saw the needle moving higher instead of lower.
“You need to slow down, Nola. You’re exiting the highway, and there’s a red light ahead.”
I stomped my foot on the brake. “It’s not working.”
“Try again.”
“I am, I am!”
“Okay. You’re doing great. The light just turned green, so prepare to turn right. Don’t worry about the blinker. Just worry about staying on the road. And not hitting anything. I’ll be your GPS telling you what to do.”
I nodded, my teeth clenched. “It’s going faster and my foot’s not on the pedal! What do I do?”
“Just stay calm and listen to my direction. We can circle the airport until we run out of gas or the computer glitch works its way out. There are multiple lanes, so all you have to do is avoid other cars and the construction cones, okay?” He didn’t mention the temporary concrete barriers that had been placed along the shoulder of the road for the never-ending airport expansion. He didn’t need to.
A fetid stench rose from the car’s floorboards and blasted from the air vents. Bile rose in my throat.
“What the…?”
I didn’t hear whatever Cooper was about to say.
A movement in the backseat caught my peripheral vision and forced an involuntary glance in the rearview mirror.
A man sat in the middle of the backseat, his face obscured by a shadow that oozed out of him like black tar.
I felt his eyes looking back at me, his gaze laser hot on my skin.
And then he smiled. Wet lips and yellowed teeth were all I could see before Cooper shouted.
I jerked my face forward. A concrete barrier loomed in front of the car.
It wasn’t a deer, but the car had airbags.
With my hands firmly planted on the steering wheel, I kept the car heading straight toward the immovable concrete.
Then the only sensation I was aware of was hearing the sounds of metal crumpling and my own screams following me into deep, dark blackness.