Chapter 6 #2
“I’m finding out,” Angela assured him. “And I’m afraid I have something that you’re going to need to investigate not far from where you are.”
“Okay, what do you need?”
“Well, it’s getting late, and you two could probably use some dinner,” she said.
Grant groaned softly, but Shelly smiled. It was evident that he had worked with Jackson and Angela before. He knew Angela—and therefore dared that groan.
And he was right. Angela chuckled softly.
“Diggy’s Diner,” Angela said.
Shelly and Grant frowned, looking at one another.
“Isn’t that the name of the place—” Shelly began.
“Where we met Ainsley and her sister,” Grant agreed. “And I’ve eaten there a dozen times through the years. We were already there, Angela. So—”
“It was also George Maynard’s favorite place in the city, and that might be the reason you met Ainsley there,” Angela told them.
“But there’s more. The owner there, Brendan Cosby, was especially good friends with George Maynard.
Maynard was there three to five times a week; he was known to meet people there to talk about his reports and investigations.
You need to have a chat with Brendan Cosby, find out what he has to say, if there were any arguments in there, people who left angry …
he might have a clue into George’s personal life that the man wouldn’t consider dangerous himself, and yet just might have been.
And it shouldn’t be a hardship. Jackson said the food was great. ”
“The food is very good. We’ll get over there. We’ll see what we can find out, if anything. And at the least, we’ll get to know Brendan Cosby,” Shelly assured Angela.
“I know who he is,” Grant said. “I can’t say I know him. We’ve said hello and goodbye and that kind of thing. But …”
“At least you know who he is, and I imagine he knows you. Just a chat. As I said, he and George were great friends. He should be happy to help you in any way that he can. Nothing may come of it, but it won’t hurt for you to know the players,” Angela said.
“Okay, we’re on it. Then—” Grant began.
“Then we’re heading to the little house on Aviles,” Shelly said. “Sleep! They have our numbers at the hospital; they’ll let us know if either of our victims in the ICU is able to talk to us.”
“Yeah, you’ll be worthless if you’re exhausted, so get some rest.” Angela said.
“And I doubt anyone will be talking until tomorrow. And on that, you have two more investigators coming in tomorrow to assist in the investigation. They’ll meet you at the house tonight, get settled in.
When morning comes, you’ll go to the hospital, maybe get some more info there—and then be ready to head out. ”
“Head out?” Shelly asked. She gazed at Grant curiously. In truth, she’d just “headed in.”
“Rome,” Angela said. “Grant, you have an in with the Italian police. Apparently, you were nicely professional and polite over there. We need to find out immediately if something is going on through some kind of a cult devoted to the curse tablets. Three so far. One dead man—and two who may not make it. Is it a cult, or simply someone’s sick idea of a great murder-for-hire gig?
Grant, I know the police there were accepting the man’s confession—”
“And his suicide,” Grant reminded her.
“They accepted it all; you did not. But you had a decent relationship with that one detective—”
“Antonio Martinelli,” Grant said. “And … well, I think he understood a few of the points I was making, but …”
“Right. And we really can’t blame anyone for seeing it as they did. They had a confession and a suicide. But now, you can be looking into a relationship with the events here, something you didn’t have then.”
“Right,” Grant told her. “Hey, I like Rome.”
Rome? She was really traveling “east,” Shelly thought.
“Well, I’m still packed,” Shelly murmured.
“But I am the one from this area—” Grant began.
“And still our best association with the force there. I don’t think you’ll need to be there long.
” She hesitated. “We received a call here, asking us for any help with evidence that could lead them in the right direction, as they have tips from the local populace about seeing strange threats in graffiti across the city. I know you believe the man who confessed to murder there was lying to save the lives of his family. Go prove it, find out about those threats—and then get home, fast. And maybe with Shelly there …”
Grant looked at her, arching a brow.
She didn’t speak because Angela was continuing.
“Even if you can’t reach any spirits, you have something to go on, experience, training, and gut instinct.
I believe the person or persons behind all this has their base in our country, and for everyone involved, we need it stopped.
I personally think it’s murder for hire.
But that’s for you to prove. Then get back.
Perry has been talking to Ainsley, and she’s suggested Brendan Cosby, owner of the restaurant, and another woman, Belinda Jenkins, one of George’s closest neighbors, as people who might know something, even something they don’t know that they know.
And anything at all that they find will be thoroughly investigated by one of Perry’s best forensic scientists at the lab, Alan Barker, the fellow who pulled enough DNA from the burned pile of ash to make the identification on what was left of the body at George’s.
You also have me via phone at any given time.
And while I didn’t start out that way, our own very brilliant techs and scientists have me well trained on computer research.
So! I won’t keep you any longer. Eat, rest. Enjoy dinner! ”
Angela was out.
Grant glanced at Shelly, shaking his head. She realized they were parking in the lot behind the house.
They were ready to walk down to the restaurant.
“So much for a quick meal and a soft bed,” he murmured.
“Well, we don’t need to do any dishes,” Shelly told him. But she frowned. “Rome? You are far more informed on whatever is going on exactly with travel and our movements in a foreign country. I’m guessing she sent us info on the flight—”
He smiled then. “Oh, yeah. But that’s not a problem. The Krewe has its own jet—actually two of them now, I think—and I can bet one will be at our disposal. We’ll have time to go over notes, ideas, all that.”
“And time for you to bring me up to date on every little thing that happened in Rome,” Shelly told him.
He nodded gravely. “Murder for hire. Via curse tablets! And some very human creatures seeing to it that the curses are carried out, just in case the ancient gods and goddesses are too busy to get to them.”
“It’s a theory,” Shelly said. “And if you don’t mind … let’s do this dinner thing! Except, I’m wondering …
“Wondering what?”
“Does Angela want us to meet this man because he’s one of George’s best friends, or does she think he’s a possible suspect?”
“Why would the man’s best friend want to kill him? Then again, wives, girlfriends, husbands, best friends. They always do fall into a line of questioning.”
“Right. So, that’s what we’re supposed to find out,” Shelly said.
He groaned. “At the very least …”
“Yes!” Shelly said. “The food is good. Let’s go!”
They headed through the little alleyway and walked down Aviles and to the restaurant.
As they entered, Grant nudged Shelly, indicating a man standing between the cash register and the kitchen.
He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with sparse white hair and a friendly face with smile wrinkles.
Medium in height and build, the man was wearing an apron, which indicated that he certainly spent time in the kitchen.
“That’s him?” Shelly said softly, her words more of a statement than a question.
Grant nodded and told her, “Let’s go chat, shall we?”
“He knows who you are and what you do, right?” Shelly asked.
“Yes,” Grant said. “Honesty is our best policy here.”
He headed toward the man, and Shelly followed. Brendan Cosby turned toward them, smiling as he saw Grant.
“Figured you’d be in on this!” he told Grant. He nodded to Shelly, smiling and saying, “And you’re his partner here?”
“Special Agent Shelly Mahoney,” Grant said, introducing her. “And, yes, of course—”
“I’m willing to bet you’re the one who found George!” Brendan said. “And I can’t tell you how grateful I am the man is still alive.”
“Alive, and we can only hope he’ll be well,” Grant said.