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Gabe shook his head. “No, I’m a chef. I have a restaurant called Le Petit Choux in New Orleans. My photo is on the website if you want to check.”
“And I have my PI license,” Molly added. “Please, feel free to check us out.”
April studied her screen, then his face, repeating the motions with Molly’s license. “I remember you from the TV, Mr. Hebert. Would you like to come in? It’s hot out here.”
“If you’re comfortable inviting us in,” Molly said. “We’re not here to pressure you. We just want to understand what happened to Nadia.”
April nodded gravely. “Me too.”
“Um.” Gabe pointed to the SUV. “Shoe.”
Molly grimaced. “We have a dog, and we can’t leave him in the SUV unless I leave the engine running.”
“Somebody will steal your car,” April declared. “We like dogs. Is he friendly?”
“Very,” Gabe assured her. “I’ll keep him on a leash.”
“Then come in. I’m very interested in what you have to say.”
“What about your groceries?” Molly asked.
“Oh. Right.” April reached into her back seat and pulled out a small cooler bag. “This stuff needs the fridge. Everything else can stay out here until we’re finished.”
Gabe got Shoe from the SUV and, keeping a hold on his leash, followed Molly and April. Or he tried to. Shoe was distracted by the shrubs in the front yard. “We’ve been driving for a few hours,” he said apologetically as Shoe peed every three feet.
April chuckled. “I’ve had loads of dogs. I get it. No problem.”
Gabe finally got Shoe into the house, which was blissfully cool.
“Ah,” they all said in unison.
“This way.” April led them to the kitchen, which was very nice. “Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water would be great,” Molly said.
Gabe nodded. “Same. Thank you.” They waited as April put her groceries in the fridge and filled glasses of water for them and a bowl for Shoe. “He says thank you, too.”
April patted Shoe’s head, then joined them at the table. “So. Tell me your story.”
“Gabe’s dad died six weeks ago,” Molly began. “Full disclosure: we think he was killed because he was investigating Nadia’s death.”
April gasped. “Oh my God.”
“Has anyone come asking about Nadia?” Gabe asked.
April shook her head. “No. I yelled and screamed at the police after Katrina because Nadia had simply disappeared. But there were so many other things going on. So much death. They brushed her case aside. I was so frustrated. I kept asking and asking, but years passed, and I finally gave up. How did your father find her body?”
Gabe told her about his father’s rescue of the people in Chalmette. “He came back afterward, and her body was gone. He tried to investigate, but was discouraged by someone higher up. Like you said, so much was going on back then. It was chaos.”
“I remember,” April murmured. “Nadia was my roommate. Well, she was up until about six months before Katrina. We went to high school together, here in Biloxi. She was a foster kid. She spent more time at my parents’ house than she did any of the foster homes. We always dreamed of going to New Orleans when we grew up. So when we graduated high school, we did. We got this awful little apartment in the Quarter. It was tiny and moldy, but we could open the windows and hear the music. We loved it. We were waiting tables mostly. We’d both turned twenty-one the year before Katrina and could finally tend bar. Tips were good. Nadia’s tips were better.” Another sad smile. “She was stunning.”
“Do you have any photos?” Molly asked.
“I do. I’ll get them when we’re finished if you like.”
“That would be great.” Molly traced her finger through the condensation on the water glass. “What happened six months before Katrina?”
“She met someone.”
