Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“You knock now?”
“I heard the typing and thought you might be working.”
I shut my laptop and the noise ceased. “Nope. Just got a movie running on my laptop while I sit here and ponder. You must still be half asleep.”
“Why is that?”
Because you’re leaping to bad conclusions. I watch horror movies all the time. When you step onto the porch and hear people screaming, do you assume I’m killing people inside?”
He raised one eyebrow.
“Fair,” I said. “How did you sleep?”
He shrugged. “I dropped off quick but about midway through I started dreaming. Those crazy, frantic kind of dreams.”
“Probably PTSD from Calahan.”
“That’s a good possibility.”
“Are you headed to the office?”
He nodded. “I know it’s my day off, but I want to get those reports filed and Kim transferred to New Orleans. What are you up to today? You might have worn out the motor in the hot tub yesterday. You definitely emptied the liquor cabinet.”
“Well then, I guess a trip to the liquor store is in order. Beyond that, I have a big day of reading in my hammock planned. Merlin and Tiny asked for some quality quiet time.”
“Uh-huh. Wish I could join you.”
“Get that paperwork wrapped up and that silly woman shipped out of your jail and you can this afternoon. I’ll pull some steaks out of the freezer and we can fire up the grill.”
“You mean I can fire up the grill.”
“I’m picking up more beer. And I made a full pot of coffee.”
He smiled and leaned over to kiss me. “Sounds fair. I’m going to fill a mug and head out. The sooner I get started, the sooner I finish.”
A knock at the front door had us both freezing, then looking at each other.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “My friends have keys or come in the back door. Except Mannie. I’m not sure how he gets in. Maybe he materializes.”
“Ha. Guess I better go see.”
Curiosity had me following him to the front door. After all, it was my house. There was always the chance that a potential client had come looking for me in person. Plenty of people didn’t like talking on the phone about extremely personal things.
But neither of us knew the anxious-looking young woman standing there.
Five foot three. A hundred ten pounds. Excellent muscle mass indicative of martial arts training. Threat level undetermined on her turf. On mine, we were probably good.
“Carter LeBlanc?” the woman asked.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“My name is Angela Tran. I’m a scientist with a lab in New Orleans. I need to talk to you about Dora Matte.”
“Please come inside,” he said.
The woman stepped inside and I waved at her to take a seat.
“I assume this is a private matter, so I’ll leave you to it,” I said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” Angela said as she perched on the edge of the couch.
I headed down the hallway to my office, closed the door, popped in my earbuds, and pulled up the living room camera on my computer.
I figured if Carter didn’t want me to hear what Angela said, he would have taken her down to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who he was living with.
“I have to apologize straight off for coming to you with this so late,” Angela said. She pulled a folder out of her bag, and I could tell she was nervous as she handed it to Carter.
“What is this?” he asked as he opened it.
“The results of hair and blood tests done on Mrs. Matte. We were supposed to send the result to Mr. Jasper Stout.”
“Jasper?” Carter asked, clearly surprised.
“Yes. He’s the one who brought her in for the tests in January. My understanding is that Mrs. Matte had chronic health issues and she and Mr. Stout were unsatisfied with the doctor’s lack of solutions. Mr. Stout encouraged her to have the tests run to either pin down or eliminate possibilities.”
“So I take it you weren’t able to get the results to Mr. Stout before he passed.”
She gave him a pained look. “I’m afraid it’s a bit deeper than that.
We were installing a new computer system at the lab, and I’m both embarrassed and horrified to say that Mrs. Matte’s file got corrupted, and the samples sat in storage until someone noticed the dates on the labels.
At the same time, I went out early on a four-month-long maternity leave.
I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for our mistake.
When I found out Mrs. Matte and Mr. Stout were both deceased, I was sick over it. ”
“Mistakes happen, Dr. Tran. And it doesn’t sound like this one was on you.”
“Perhaps not, but this mistake might have cost Mrs. Matte her life.”
Carter straightened. “What?”
“She was being poisoned. Heavy metal poisoning. And given the amount of concentration in her body and the length of time since symptoms had begun, there was no way it was environmental in nature.”
“You’re saying someone was poisoning Mrs. Matte and that’s what killed her?”
“I have no way of knowing for certain. I contacted the ME but with no autopsy and a cremation, I have no way to prove that was the case.”
“But that’s what you believe.”
She nodded and swiped at her right eye. “I am struggling greatly with the knowledge that if we hadn’t messed up Mrs. Matte might still be alive.”
“You can’t blame yourself, although I understand how you’d feel that way. Did Mrs. Matte give any indication that she suspected something like this?”
“No. I got the impression that she had only requested the tests due to Mr. Stout’s urging.
But he was very specific about contact—only wanting us to speak with him directly.
He said others had access to Mrs. Matte’s phone and mail and it wouldn’t be confidential.
Mrs. Matte agreed. So I have to think he had his suspicions even though he wasn’t sharing them. ”
“But he didn’t give you any indication what he was thinking?”
She shook her head. “Mr. Stout was her son-in-law, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a cop, Sheriff LeBlanc, or a psychiatrist, but I’d bet my medical license that Mr. Stout was afraid we’d find exactly what we did. He was antsy and asked some leading questions about poisoning, trying to make it sound like he was concerned about something nondeliberate.”
“But you didn’t buy it.”
“No. When I learned he’d died only a week after that visit and then Mrs. Matte a week after that, I couldn’t help but worry that whoever was poisoning Mrs. Matte had gotten to both of them. That was the moment I became positively ill over the entire thing.”
“The only person who had a motive and opportunity to kill them both was Mrs. Matte’s daughter—Mr. Stout’s wife.”
She nodded. “I figured as much. And when the ME told me she’d died recently of a self- inflicted gunshot wound, it all seemed to fit.
But I couldn’t let you close the file on Mrs. Matte’s or Mr. Stout’s death without this information.
I think both need further investigation, because the dead deserve justice as much as the living.
I know no one can pay, but the truth is its own form of restitution. ”
“I agree,” Carter said as Angela stood.
He rose with her and took her hand. “Please allow yourself to grieve this and then let it go. You couldn’t have saved them. If someone is hell-bent on committing murder they will find a way.”
Angela looked down at the floor and sniffed, then looked back at Carter and nodded. “Thank you.”
He closed the front door behind her, then sank onto the couch. I walked into the living room and sat next to him.
“You know Walter never felt Jasper’s death was right,” I said quietly.
He nodded.
“Do you think Eleanor killed them both?”
“Yeah.” He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me in close. “Yeah. I do.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to make a copy of these records tomorrow and turn them over to the ME.
I’ll see what I can do about changing cause of death to suspicious for both Jasper and Dora.
Given that the person most likely responsible is already gone, there’s nothing more that can be done.
But I’ll ask my questions about Jasper’s boat and talk to Dora’s doctors.
At the very least, it will be on record.
Maybe then Jasper and Dora can rest in peace. ”
“I hope Eleanor doesn’t.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You’re going to have to tell Mildred.”
“I know. But I need to do things in the proper order.” He shook his head. “Good God, what a mess. Poor Mildred. I hope she can live with the weight of all of this.”
“It’s not on her.”
“No. But survivor’s guilt is real, and if she thinks there’s something she could have done to prevent it, well…”
“Yeah.”