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“He’s a smarmy bastard. Gabe didn’t believe him. He went to the ME and pushed harder.”
“Still not enough to prompt him to hire his own pathologist.”
“I know. I think someone tipped him off. I’m checking.”
“Shit. Who do you suspect?”
“Don’t know yet. But you know André Holmes?”
“Yes, I know Captain Holmes.” He was also a thorn in their side—an ethical cop. “What about him?”
“His little brother is working in the ME’s office now. If anyone would snitch, it’d be DeShawn Holmes. I’m having someone check his work email account today.”
“How?”
“I got my tech experts, Monty, just like you do.”
Asshole.“Fine. Just tell me when you know.”
“Will do,” Jackass promised, his tone changing from intense to breezy, which meant someone had come in. “Talk more soon.”
The call ended and Lamont turned from the window, sinking into the chair behind his desk with a sigh.
Chalmette, New Orleans, Louisiana
WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 10:15 A.M.
“Close the door behind you!” Nancy Royce bellowed. “I’m not paying to cool the whole neighborhood.”
Molly smiled at that. “She sounds like my mom did,” she whispered.
“Mine, too,” Gabe whispered back.
Nancy already had set a tray of lemonade on the coffee table, complete with three glasses. She sat in an easy chair, watching them.
“You expected us,” Molly said, gesturing to the tray.
“I’m not stupid,” Nancy snapped. “Say your piece, then leave. I’ve got things to do.”
Molly suspected the attitude was left over from a career of teaching because there was open curiosity in the woman’s face.
“We’d like to ask you about a woman who lived on this street before Katrina,” Molly began.
Nancy tilted her head, resembling a very weathered bird. “So, ask. And be quick about it. My soap comes on soon, and I’m not missing it for anything.”
Molly studied the woman’s eyes. “Why aren’t you surprised to see us?”
Nancy leaned back, studying Molly right back. “Because you’re not the first people to ask about a woman who lived on this street before Katrina.”
Gabe sucked in a breath. “Who else?”
“A man named Rocky Hebert.” Another head tilt. “You favor him.”
“My father,” Gabe said. “When did he talk to you?”
“The first time or the second?”
Molly blinked. Then understood. “You met him during Katrina.”
