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Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana
THURSDAY, JULY 28, 6:30 P.M.
“Evening, sir,” James said.
Lamont settled into the back seat of the town car. “Evening, James.”
James pulled away from the curb. And stopped.
“Traffic, sir,” James said apologetically. “Seems like half the country’s here.”
Lamont found himself unbothered. “Not a problem, James. I’m in no hurry tonight. Just take me home.”
James glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “That’s a switch. Seems like you’ve always got some place to be. Did you have a good day?”
“I did, thank you.” So far, so good, anyway.
They hadn’t identified Ashley’s body yet and he’d checked. Multiple times. But discreetly. He didn’t want anyone to know that he was the one asking.
It was possible that they wouldn’t ID Ashley’s body for a while. Maybe ever. And if that was the case, he was home free.
But he wasn’t going to depend on it. Rocky Hebert had gotten close. He may have even ID’d Nadia as the woman whose body he’d seen during Katrina. He’d certainly known enough to go hunting for her doctor.
But he didn’t ID me. If he had, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.
Rocky Hebert hadn’t known who killed Nadia. Lamont knew he was damn lucky that they’d killed Rocky before he’d discovered the truth. There was no way that he was going to depend on luck again. While it was possible that Ashley’s body might never be identified, it was likely that it would. She had no family to miss her, but her new boss, Jean-Pierre, had come by his office yet again that afternoon asking after her.
“Have you seen Ashley?”
“No, I have not.”
“I’m worried, Lamont. She might be hurt somewhere. Is this like her? To just not show up for work?”
“Maybe. She’ll call in sick sometimes. Y’know, after a busy night.”He’d mimed guzzling liquor. “Wicked hangovers.”
The other man had frowned. “You didn’t mention that when you sent her over. I don’t want an alcoholic working for me. Or not working for me, which is more in line with what happened today.”
Jean-Pierre had finally given up, returning to his office. Or maybe to the network admin’s office to get into Ashley’s computer.
I really don’t care.
What he did care about was that eventually Ashley would be ID’d, if for no other reason than that damn Jean-Pierre wouldn’t back off. And when she was ID’d?
They’re gonna come looking at me.Joelle would make sure of it.
He’d thought a lot about how to neutralize Joelle over the course of his workday and now he had a plan. He had a script. He’d picked a fall guy who’d be ID’d as the “man in the hoodie”—a guy on his list who’d killed for hire in the past.
Lamont had even practiced his sad face for when Joelle’s body was discovered.
Poor tortured Joelle. Couldn’t live with the guilt after killing her husband’s mistress.
He’d have to navigate the fallout of sexual scandal, but that was nothin’ these days. In some circles, it’d be considered a plus.
“So, how’d the missus like those presents?” James asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Momentary panic swept through him. Ashley’s body. The presents wrapped in silver paper. The silver paper that was in police evidence right now because he’d left it in the trunk of that stolen car. Goddammit.
At least there’d be no prints on the silver wrapping paper. He’d meticulously scrubbed it clean of both his and James’s fingerprints.
