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That Harper was at the table was a good thing, Molly thought. She’d been craving normal conversation, and Harper’s presence kept them from talking about the case.
But the respite was short-lived. After breakfast, Chelsea took Harper back to their room for another movie. Time to get to work.
Carlos and Xavier had made quick work of the dishes and Molly was afraid to drink any more coffee. She was wired enough. She and Gabe had stayed up late talking about his father and what he remembered about Paul Lott until they were both tired enough to sleep, but that meant that neither of them had slept much.
She wondered if Gabe had slept at all. He had to have risen before dawn to catch the fish. He looked tired. Or maybe it was everything weighing on his shoulders. After all, he’d killed a man little more than twenty-four hours before, and they still hadn’t really talked about it. But now wasn’t the time and here wasn’t the place. She’d wait until they were alone for that.
“You talk to Patty this morning?” Molly asked him, choosing another pressing concern. Val had texted her updates, but she knew that Gabe had been worrying about his cousin. Hearing from her directly would be a good start at easing his mind.
“I did. She and Val are recuperating well, and Phin is still guarding them. Patty’s been cooking for them all, and that makes her happy.”
“One load off our mind,” Molly murmured. “How about Harry Peterson? Has he regained consciousness?” The ME’s assistant had paid dearly for helping Gabe and she knew that it was one more thing that weighed on him.
“Not yet,” Burke said. “I talked to André this morning. They’re waiting for Harry to wake up so that he can identify his attackers, but so far nothing. I’m hoping to find something in that damn box of Xavier’s.”
“You and me both,” Antoine said. “I was online most of the night, and I’m still not into Paul Lott’s bank accounts. I hope there’s something useful in that box.”
“Oh,” Xavier said. “I’ll go get the key.”
But he and everyone else froze when Molly’s burner buzzed. Remembering that the Houston folks had given her number to the veterinarians yesterday, she answered cautiously. “Hello?” she asked as Xavier made a show of crossing his fingers.
“Hi, this is Dr. Watts. I’m trying to reach Mr. Carlos Manuel.”
Carlos Manuel? His last name was Hernandez. Then it clicked. Manny was short for Manuel. Smart, using a combination name that they’d easily remember.
“He’s sitting here with me. Can I put you on speakerphone?” He agreed and she set the phone on the table where everyone was holding their breath. “Carlos, this is Dr. Watts.”
“Hello, sir, and thank you for calling me back,” Carlos said. “I’m hoping this means you remember Madame Fluffy.”
“Oh, I do,” the vet said. “Not often that a dog like her comes into my office. She was a stunner. I’m sorry to say that she passed away, though. She was twelve and that’s rather old for an Afghan.”
Molly’s heart started to pound. This could be it. The break they’d been searching for. She prepared to take notes.
“I figured she’d have passed by now,” Carlos said. “As we told your office manager yesterday, we’d really like to contact the breeder, just to let her know.”
“Of course,” the vet said. “But I don’t think Madame Fluffy’s owner was a breeder. She never mentioned it, anyway. It is possible the breeder wanted a litter out of Madame Fluffy, though. She was a magnificent animal. At any rate, I’m sure that Lucille would like to hear from you. She loved that dog so much. It was a gift from her husband, right after Katrina. The previous owner had to put the dog up for adoption when the flood destroyed her home. Lucille wanted to change the dog’s name, but she’d only answer to Madame Fluffy, so she gave up trying.”
“Lucille?” Carlos asked hopefully. “Do you remember her last name?”
“Of course. It’s Ducote.”
Ducote.Molly knew that name, but it couldn’t be the person she was thinking of. It just couldn’t be. But Burke’s expression was grim, and he was googling as fast as she was. Antoine looked stunned as well.
“I haven’t seen her for quite a while, come to think of it,” the vet went on. “Tell her that I miss her and hope she’s well.”
“Thank you, sir. And thanks for calling me back.” Brows raised in question, Carlos looked around the table, getting a grim nod from Burke before ending the call.
“Lucille Ducote,” Xavier said slowly, looking from Molly to Antoine to Burke. “Why do you all look so freaked out?”
Molly stared at her phone’s screen. “Lucille Ducote is dead. She shot herself in the head twelve years ago.”
“Who was she, Molly?” Gabe asked quietly.
“The first wife of Lamont Ducote,” Molly said. “And Lamont Ducote—”
“Is one of the ADAs of Orleans Parish,” Burke finished.
Gabe stared, blinking in shock. “An ADA? As in one of the assistant district attorneys?”
