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Metairie, Louisiana
MONDAY, JULY 25, 11:30 P.M.
“I think that’s it,” Gabe said quietly, gathering the last of his father’s papers into a neat pile on the floor. He’d managed to move out of his mother’s rocking chair, then was hit with a wave of fury so powerful that he’d nearly put another hole in the living room wall.
But he wouldn’t dishonor his parents’ memory like that.
It was Molly who’d knelt at his feet and put disposable booties over his shoes, then taken him by the hand and led him to his dad’s home office, far away from the kitchen where his father’s blood still stained the floor. She’d kindly shielded him from even looking into that room as they’d walked.
“We’re going to take all the papers with us,” she’d told him, giving him a pair of disposable gloves. “Help me gather them.”
So he’d redirected all of his fury into picking up every last paper, even the ripped ones. His father had been very organized. Several dozen empty folders had lain strewn over the floor and he’d stacked those as well.
Wearing the gloves, of course. Antoine would dust all the papers for fingerprints tomorrow. No one expected to find anything, but Gabe could hope.
The assholes had tossed poisoned meat to Shoe while he and Molly had been in his house, for God’s sake. They couldn’t be too smart.
He hoped. He was hanging on to that, because if they really were stupid, they’d fuck up and Molly and Burke would catch them.
Then a question broke into the forced calm of his mind. “Why didn’t they take the papers?”
She looked up from her own stack. “Good question. I figure they either found what they were looking for and trashed the house because they were assholes or because they wanted you to think it was simple vandalism.” She shrugged. “Or because they were looking for something specific and didn’t find it. We might not, either, but we’re going to go over every damn one of these papers with a fine-tooth comb.”
He believed her. He had to. Molly was his tether to sanity at the moment and he was holding on with both hands. “What’s the next step?”
“Paying a visit to your father’s attorney. Do you know who he is?”
Gabe blinked. “Of course. He read the will the week after Dad died. Paul Lott. He and Dad were friends for years.”
“You trust him, then?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “As much as I trust anyone right now.”
“Fair enough. We’ll start there and then we’re going to pay a visit to the one person who threatened your father over one of his old cases.”
“Just one? I thought there were three cases.”
“There were, but I had one of Burke’s other PIs do the background checks while we were waiting at the vet’s. I’d have done it myself, but I wasn’t about to be distracted in case whoever tried to poison Shoe followed us there.”
Because he’d forced her into being both his investigator and his bodyguard. He figured he should let her pick which one, but not right now. Right now, he needed her. “Which is why you called Burke to meet us here? To guard me while you were searching?”
“Exactly. Anyway, two of the three are no longer available to stalk your dad. One is dead, the other’s in prison. The third lives in Shreveport. She’s apparently tried to turn over a new leaf. She got sober and does a lot of volunteer work. We’ll see.”
“Thank you. You’re going to ask Dad’s lawyer about the trust that Patty mentioned?”
“Exactly,” she said again, then patted the papers she’d stacked. “Some of these are bank statements. If the lawyer won’t tell us about the trust, there may be something in these.”
“All right.” Gabe stood up, papers under one arm. “What do we do with these?”
“I’ll take them out to my truck, then I’ll come back for you. Antoine’s nearly done processing the scene and we don’t want to be here when Burke calls Captain Holmes’s contact in the Jefferson sheriff’s office.”
Because Metairie was in Jefferson Parish, just west of NOPD’s jurisdiction. “How will Burke explain being here?”
“He’ll say that you were here first, saw the mess, and called him. He sent you home because you were very upset, especially after your dog was threatened.”
“Okay.” He frowned. “Tell me again why we’re calling the cops?”
She smiled patiently. “Because we need a record that someone trashed your dad’s house. It’ll improve our chances of getting a new investigation into his death once we turn up our own evidence.”
