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“Killed Reid,” I finish for her.
I swallow hard and fall back into my chair, not able to take my eyes off the paper. Someone has hand delivered me an obituary clipping of the man who murdered Reid.
“Nathan Kress, New Orleans native and Loyola graduate, died on Friday, August 29, 2015, at the age of 27. Mr. Kress had recently been released from Orleans Parish Prison after being convicted of the murder of local Marine, Reid Landry, and theft of a vehicle in 2013. Mr. Kress was out on appeal, pending an investigation and issuance of a new trial. He is survived by his mother, Mrs. Darlene Kress Prather. Cause of death is still under investigation.”
“Holy shit, Maks.”
“What do you think this means?” I ask, filling our glasses with a much needed second glass of wine.
“It means he’s dead.”
“Wow. Nothing gets past you, does it?” I roll my eyes and take a drink. “I mean… why did Jeeves think I needed this?”
“More importantly, who is Jeeves?” Brynn asks between sips.
“You don’t think Judge Landry had anything to do with this, do you?”
She chokes on her wine. “Slow down there, detective. It doesn’t say how he died.”
“But what if something… happened… to him, Brynn? Reid’s dad knows the justice system inside and out. He could totally pull it off. And Mrs. Landry made this cryptic promise about having justice. And when she called me the night he followed me, she told me not to worry. She told me she’d take care of it. It makes perfect sense.”
Brynn takes my glass of wine and tilts it as she peers inside, inspecting it for foreign substances.
I huff. “Stop. I’m not high.”
She laughs and hands me back the glass. “Okay Velma, you grab Shaggy and Scooby, and I’ll crank up the Mystery Machine.”
“Jinkies!” I shout with a chuckle of my own.
“I personally don’t care what happened to him. I’m just glad you’re safe now. And apparently Jeeves wanted you to know it. Now you can take out that trash that’s been sitting here all week. Seriously, Maks. This place smells like ass.”
She’s right. It started to smell two days ago. But I’ve been too scared of my own shadow to go out back and grab the garbage can.
“To justice,” I say, raising my glass.
“To Jeeves.”
Since the moment I received that envelope, it feels as though a cloud has been lifted. Even though I can’t prove it, I have no doubt the guy who followed me that night and left his twisted love note in my car is the same guy on that obituary.
Mrs. Landry stopped by the next night to see if I had heard the news. I couldn’t bring myself to ask her if she knew anything about what really happened. So, I just told her yes and left it at that. I still can’t help but wonder, though.
