Chapter Sixty-Seven
STANTON AND JIMENEZ followed the old woman into the house and down a short hallway. The kitchen smelled of French roast and lemon polish.
“Coffee, Special Agent Stanton? You, Ms. Jimenez?”
Stanton’s jaw tightened. “Yes, ma’am. That’d be nice.”
Bates sat at the table, sipping from a porcelain cup. His suit coat hung over the back of a neighboring chair.
Gloria moved with quiet grace, pouring coffee for the newcomers.
“I was just telling Lieutenant Bates that I haven’t driven that old Eagle in over a year,” she said. “It’s been parked out back. I suppose someone must’ve stolen it.”
Stanton and J.J. remained standing, their eyes scanning the room. J.J. raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice it was gone, ma’am? Didn’t report it?”
“I don’t go out much these days,” Gloria replied smoothly, setting the coffeepot down. “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“Anyone else have the keys?” Bates asked.
“Oh, no,” Gloria said, shaking her head. “Just me.”
“Could we see them?” he pressed.
“I don’t know where I put them. At this age things get, well, grayer.”
Stanton’s gaze drifted to the walls decorated with wildlife photos, framed magazine covers, a signed letter from National Geographic. The furniture was elegant, Empire-style, with silk cushions and polished wood. He turned back to Gloria.
“Do you live alone, ma’am?”
She hesitated, just a beat, but enough for Stanton to notice. “Yes, I do.”
“Just you and your dog?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your dog,” he said, pointing to the water and food bowls in the corner.
“Oh, those are for my granddaughter’s dog when she stays with me. I just leave them there now.”
“What kind of dog?” J.J. asked.
“Oh dear, I believe it’s more of a mutt.”
“Do you mind if we take a look around?” Bates interjected.
“I don’t see why, but be my guest,” Gloria replied, her voice light. “Might take a minute. I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
She led them through the hallway, pointing out framed photos of her travels: elephants in Botswana, glaciers in Patagonia, a faded snapshot of her late husband beside a fishing boat at a dock. Her stories flowed easily, a practiced rhythm of names and dates.
In the guest room, Stanton paused. The space was tidy but unmistakably lived in.
He noted Bates’s careful reaction to the scene too, taking it all in.
A denim jacket hung on the back of the chair.
A stack of used textbooks on accounting and business management were stacked on a nightstand.
A pair of headphones peeked out from under the pillow.
The window was cracked; lace curtains moved in the breeze.
“My granddaughter stays with me sometimes,” Gloria said, her voice soft.
J.J. exchanged a glance with Stanton, but neither pressed.
“Why don’t we have some scones?” Gloria asked, turning back toward the kitchen. “Fresh out of the oven. Lemon poppyseed.”
Back at the table, the police officer and FBI agents accepted out of courtesy. Bates asked a few more questions about the Eagle. Gloria answered with the same calm cadence.
Bates’s phone buzzed and he looked at it, his eyes fixed. He stood, brushing crumbs from his slacks. “All right, folks. Best I get on with my day. I’ll make sure we get the auto theft filed. I may have to come back for some details, or it might be another officer from my unit.”
“Thank you, Officer Bates. I should have sold that old thing years ago.”
The front door creaked open and a female voice called from the foyer, “Forgot something for work!”
Stanton raised an eyebrow and looked at Gloria.
“My granddaughter,” the old woman said.
“She’s staying with you now?” Stanton asked.
“We’re both somewhat forgetful,” Gloria said. “Her because she’s young; me because I’m old.”
She followed the comment with a gracious smile as Belle stepped into the kitchen, leather jacket slung over her tattooed arm, skirt brushing her thighs, and Doc Martens thudding softly against the tile.
She froze mid-step, eyes widening at the sight of the three visitors.
“Oh,” she said abruptly. “Didn’t realize we had company.”
Bates stood and nodded. “Hello, ma’am.” Stanton and J.J. followed suit. They went through the introductions and mentioned the purpose of the visit as related to the missing Eagle. “When was the last time you saw it?” Bates asked.
“It’s stolen. I haven’t seen it in months.”
Stanton looked outside at the faded green vintage BMW.
Belle tracked his gaze.
“I let Belle park in the garage when she’s with me,” Gloria said. “Safer that way. I never bothered to put my car back.”
“Where’s your dog today?” Stanton asked.
“My dog?”
“Yes,” Stanton said, motioning to the dog bowls.
“Oh, my dog. He’s at the vet. Not really sure what’s wrong with him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stanton said.
“What kind of dog is it again?”
“It’s a—”
“I told them it’s a mutt, dear,” Gloria interrupted. “Am I right about that? I do get confused sometimes.”
“Yes, that’s right. A mutt. A rescue.”
“That’s nice. We are thinking of getting a rescue for our family,” Stanton said. “What’s the dog’s name?”
“Name?”
“Nikon,” Gloria said.
“Nikon?”
“Yes, Belle named him after my favorite camera,” she said, indicating the photos on the walls.
“Well, that is nice,” Stanton said.
Bates’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, his expression sharpening.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, standing. “Like I said, we’ll get going on the official report. It was nice meeting you both. Jarrett, J.J.,” he said, nodding as he threw on his coat and let himself out.
Stanton’s phone buzzed next. He looked at it and then at J.J.
“Thank you for your time,” Stanton said. “If you think of anything that might help with the vehicle, please reach out.”
They each gave Gloria and Belle their cards and said their goodbyes.
Outside, the two FBI agents watched Bates drive off in his unmarked NOPD Dodge Charger. Stanton paused on the cracked sidewalk just outside the laurel arch and looked at J.J.
“Thoughts?” he asked.
“A lot of them.”
“Such as?”
“For starters, Bates investigating this personally, not telling us about the BOLO.”
“And the dog. That’s not the granddaughter’s.”
“Yeah, Nikon? Really?”
“Chris Walker was here, and he has that Eagle. They’re protecting him.”
“Also, there’s more on Bates.”
“You mean acting like he didn’t know who Belle was. He would have read his subordinate’s report on the Connor Staub investigation last month.”
J.J. folded her arms. “Bates has the case file on Connor Staub right now. According to the NOPD records custodian, he signed it out last week.”
They walked together to Stanton’s Tahoe. He turned to her. “Keep digging into Ms. Mirabelle Travois. Run the plates on that Beamer.”
“Will do,” J.J. replied.
“Something else has been nagging me,” Jarrett said. “The incident report on Dorado. Did it mention anything about Charlie Babineaux’s boat?”
“Nothing in the report. I didn’t get the title registry until a few hours later.”
“Forty-six-foot Viking sport fisher, right?”
“Yes.”
“And it hasn’t been found?”
“Not yet. I have alerts out for it now.”
Stanton exhaled sharply.
“Keep me posted.”
“Sure will. What now?” J.J. asked.
“That call I got was the DA’s office. Icy’s requested a meeting.”
From the kitchen window, Belle and Gloria watched the agents hover near the Tahoe that was parallel parked across the street.
“They know we were lying,” Belle said, her face pale, all the more emphasized by her dark mascara.
“Yes, I believe so. What did the vet say about Paladin?”
“She used the term ‘lethargy’ and is going to run a series of tests. They are going to call me later today when I can pick him up.”
Gloria collected the dishes from the table and swept scone crumbs into her cupped hand. “Well. Maybe you should talk to the FBI about Chris? We have their cards.”
“Not a chance. If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that you can’t trust any law enforcement in this town.”
The tap hissed as Gloria rinsed a plate. “That might not be fair,” she started, but then paused when she realized Belle was no longer in the kitchen.
She killed the tap and followed the footsteps into the hallway. She found Belle in her room, throwing clothes into a bag.
“Where are you going?”
“Chris is staying out at the cabin,” she said. “I haven’t heard from him since he left. If I don’t hear from him soon, I’m going out there.”
“Did you call him?”
“I tried. Coverage is terrible out there.”
“Well, if you’re worried about the police finding Chris,” Gloria said, “it didn’t seem like they knew where he was.”
“They found us. They know we were lying. They will find the cabin next. I don’t trust any of these cops. If they come back, clam up. Don’t let them in. Make them get a warrant.” She hoisted her stuffed backpack over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Grandma.”
“Don’t apologize, dear girl. There is something about you and that boy.”
Belle rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Grandma.”
“And besides, this is the most excitement I’ve had in years.”