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She snorted in a very unladylike way. “Whatever you say.” She downed hers in three large gulps, just as he’d known she would. Then held her glass out for more. Just as he’d known she would.
She’d become a drunk in the years since their marriage. A mean, nasty drunk. But she wouldn’t get mean or nasty today. In a minute or two, she’d be out cold.
He took her glass and went back to the bar, mixing her another drink, just to keep up the charade. She frowned, shaking her head.
“What’d you do?” she asked, having to carefully enunciate her words. “Lamont?”
His name sounded slurred. He simply sipped on his own drink, waiting behind the bar. He said nothing when she tried to stand.
“You bastard,” she spat, then crumpled to the floor.
Leaving her there, he went to his study, turned on his computer, then opened the document he’d written the night before and printed it out. He then deleted the file and went into his settings and deleted the need for a password. That way if someone searched his hard drive and found remnants of the document, he could say that she could have used his computer at any time. There was nothing incriminating on this computer. Anything that was personally important he wrote longhand and left in his safe. Any communications were done over burner phones and he’d disposed of the ones he’d used with Jackass and Ashley.
Putting on gloves, he took the letter from the printer and reread it to make sure that he’d written it correctly.
Dear Lamont,
When I found out that you were having an affair with Ashley... I guess I just broke. I knew you weren’t going to end it with her, even if you promised to. I knew the only way to get her out of our lives was to kill her. So I paid to have it done.
But it didn’t make a difference. I realized last night that we were over. You don’t love me anymore. I had her killed for nothing, and now that I’m thinking clearly, I’m finding that I can’t live with what I did. She was just a kid. The same age I was when I was your dirty little secret.
I hope her family will forgive me. I would have done anything to keep you. That was my mistake.
I’d wish you well, but I’m not that nice. I hope you’re miserable forever and never find another woman to hurt. Goddamn your soul to hell. I guess I’ll see you there.
Taking the letter with him, he went to the garage to put it on the passenger seat of her car before opening the driver’s door. Leaving it open, he went back to the living room, where she still lay on the carpet, drew a deep breath, and hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Damn, girl, you’ve gained weight,” he muttered, then chuckled. She’d hate him saying that more than she’d hate being murdered by him.
Staggering slightly, he readjusted her and made his way into the garage, where he shoved her into the driver’s seat. Then he went back into the house, took off his gloves, and filled the two boxes with heavy sculptures.
He wrapped the presents and, making sure to get his fingerprints on the silver paper, placed them in the same corner of the garage where he’d told James to store the boxes the night he’d killed Ashley. James’s prints wouldn’t be on these new boxes, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that now.
Then he tugged the gloves back on, put the keys into Joelle’s limp hand, shoved his foot between hers to hit the brake, and pushed the button that started the car. She’d be dead in two or three hours. He’d had the garage well sealed and insulated before marrying Joelle because some valuable paintings he’d had stored had been destroyed by mold. So now his garage was as airtight as a structure could be.
Poor Joelle. She might not even last two hours.
Whistling, he shut the garage door behind him, cleaned their martini glasses and put them away, pocketed Joelle’s cell phone from the coffee table, and went back to work.
The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
FRIDAY, JULY 29, 4:45 P.M.
“Did you find it?” Molly asked when Gabe and Burke returned to the Escalade.
They’d driven from the UPS store in Baton Rouge directly to the Choux so that Gabe could retrieve the angel his father had given him before he’d died. Xavier had ducked down when they’d returned to New Orleans, sitting on the back-seat floorboard so that he couldn’t be seen.
Molly had wanted to take him back to Burke’s place right away, but they’d all had a feeling of the clock ticking. They needed every piece of evidence they could gather, because Ducote was going to be a hard man to take down. Rocky had told Xavier that he’d leave Gabe information, and they were hoping against hope that Gabe’s angel would yield it.
“I did,” Gabe said, sounding subdued and anxious all at the same time. “It was in my drawer, right where I left it. It’s just... the place was so quiet. We’re normally packed this time on Friday night.” He handed the angel to her. “It felt so wrong.”
“You’ll be able to open up again soon,” Molly said, hoping it was true.
Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she pried the bottom from Gabe’s angel. The base was inscribed: Je t’aimerai toujours, mon ange.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
Gabe cleared his throat. “ ‘I will always love you, my angel.’ ”
