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Should have run them over.
Shoulda, coulda. You didn’t. So move on.
He turned on his computer and checked the news feeds. The media didn’t have a copy of the video, thank the good Lord. Jackass’s little toady, Cresswell, might know something, though.
And it would look weird if he didn’t call, right? Seeing as how he and Jackass were known to be friends.
Using his desk phone, Lamont dialed Cresswell and, surprisingly, the man answered.
“Lamont, what can I do you for? If you can make it fast, I’d appreciate it. I don’t have much time. Everything is nuts here this morning, what with Mule’s murder and all.”
“I expect so,” Lamont said, laying the sadness on thick. “That’s why I’m calling. What the hell happened? Do you know who did this?”
“No. Just a guy wearing a hoodie. Looked like he was covering up another murder. But we’ll be pullin’ out all the stops, I promise you that. We’ll find who killed Mule and may God help him when we do. Everyone here is so angry that I doubt the bastard will make it to trial.”
“I hope you find him,” Lamont said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll let you get back to it. If you could update me when you hear anything? I’d be appreciative.”
“Of course. And look. I’m sorry about Mule. I know y’all go way back.”
Wentway back. Because Jackass was no longer the albatross hanging around his neck.
“Thank you. I... Well, I just haven’t processed it yet. It doesn’t feel real.”
“I know,” Cresswell murmured. “Things are gonna change around here.”
It didn’t sound like Cresswell was too excited for those changes, and why would he be? The man had been permitted to do whatever he’d wanted for too many years. Depending on who replaced Jackass, someone might be riding herd on Cresswell for once in his miserable career.
“I’ll let you go,” Lamont said. “Stay strong.”
“You, too. See ya, Lamont.”
He ended the call and breathed another sigh of relief. Cresswell might not be privy to everything, but he had worked for Jackass for a lot of years. The man would know if a killer was suspected.
Home free.
Except for Xavier Morrow and Gabe Hebert. He’d allowed Ashley and Jackass to distract him from the real goal—eliminating all witnesses. Gabe Hebert hadn’t seen him kill she-who-shall-not-be-named, but he knew altogether too much about the murder of his daddy.
He needed to find Morrow and Hebert, and he needed to do it quickly.
They’d be on double alert, especially if the lady PI had gotten a look at Ashley’s head. They already suspected that Ashley’s visit had been a ruse. Hopefully they were still chasing their tails when it came to the bogus ID of the woman Morrow had seen being killed.
Then he frowned. Wait just a damn minute.
Why had the Sutton woman been there this morning? Beyond the fact that she was supposed to have been in the hospital, how had she known to follow Jackass into the bayou? That didn’t make any sense.
Unless...
He checked the arrest reports from that morning, then closed his eyes, struggling to hold his temper. Fucking hell.
A man had been arrested in the wee hours of the morning for breaking and entering with intent to kidnap. The address was an apartment in the Central Business District.
Home to one Chelsea Sutton. Same last name as the lady PI. What had Jackass said? She has a sister and a niece. Jackass was supposed to have sent in enough men to overpower the guy Burke had installed as their bodyguard.
Lamont checked the local news website, then dropped his head back with a sigh. The break-in at Sutton’s apartment was right under the headline about Jackass’s murder. Three dead outside Sutton’s apartment, one man arrested. Nicholas Tobin.
Lamont had never met the man, but he knew the name. He’d made it a point to know everything about Jackass over the years. Tobin was Jackass’s son with his own mistress—one he hadn’t killed for getting pregnant because the woman had been paid for her silence.
Not like Nadia. Nadia hadn’t accepted his money. Nadia had insisted that she’d tell. Which was why Nadia was dead. If she’d just been reasonable, he wouldn’t be in this mess now.
