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Page 17
He turned. “Oh, hey.” He wiped his hands on a stained orange shop towel. “Okay, I guess.”
“Sorry we haven’t come by sooner.”
Owen shrugged. “I understand. I ain’t been up for talking about it either.”
“It’s been tough.”
Owen nodded. “Still don’t seem real.”
Robert sighed. “Let me ask you something. Did you know Kristi was doing drugs?”
“Not before she met that guy. That’s for sure.” Owen continued wiping his hands, concentrating on cleaning the grime that stained his cuticles. “But I heard they found some stuff in the room. A joint.”
“Three, from what we hear,” Robert said. “But that ain’t all. It seems the coroner found bump—you know—ketamine—in her. And in Kirk Ford.”
“What?” Owen tossed the towel into a large white plastic bucket. “There ain’t no way she would’ve done that. He must’ve done it to her.” He looked up toward the sky, his eyes glistened. “And I’d bet a whole pile of cash that she didn’t know it.”
“That’s what we think. The cops, too.”
“They’d be right.”
“But it also seems they might be looking at another theory.”
“Like what?”
“Since Ford has that shit inside himself, they’re thinking he wouldn’t have drugged himself if his intention was to harm Kristi.”
Owen stared at him, his mouth open slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“They think, maybe considering would be a better word, that maybe someone else did it. Drugged them both. Broke in and killed Kristi.”
“You get all this from Tony?”
Robert glanced at his brother. “Sure did.”
Owen shook his head. “That don’t make no sense.”
“Sure don’t. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they came back around to talk to you.”
“Me? I didn’t do nothing.”
“I know. But since you are the ex, and she dumped you, they just might think you had it in for her.”
He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“Where were you that night?”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s what they’ll ask.”
“Them? Or you?”
Robert stared at him.
Kevin jumped in. “Of course we ain’t saying nothing about you, Owen. Right, Robert?”
“Don’t sound that way to me.” Owen’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I should ask you where you were that night?”
“Us? She was our sister,” Robert said.
“Yeah, she was. And she was Tony’s favorite. And I know that pissed you both off.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Really? She got everything. She was Tony’s darling. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know you two were full of all kinds of resentment?”
“Just so you know, we were at the Belly Up. Until nearly three in the morning. With a bunch of people. You?”
“I think you should leave.”
“Or what?”
Owen walked to an open tool box and grabbed a large wrench. “Or I just might put this upside your head.”
“Come on, Owen,” Robert said. “We ain’t accusing you or nothing.”
“Like I said. I think you two should leave.”
Carl came out the back door. “You about finished out here?”
“Just about,” Owen said.
“Okay. I’ll get to locking up.” He disappeared back inside.
“Look,” Robert said. “We ain’t here to give you grief. There’s enough of that to go around already.”
Owen nodded. He tossed the wrench back into the tool box. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. I’m just all torn up inside.”
“As are we,” Kevin said.
Robert nodded his agreement. “We just wanted to know if you had any ideas about where that shit might’ve come from.”
Owen gazed up toward the sky. “I don’t. God knows I wish I did.”
“We’ll get out of here and let you finish up your day.” Robert tapped his brother on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I WAS PAYING for last night. Not that the price wasn’t worth it, but still, settling the debt was painful.
I stood in the shower, head bowed, letting the hot water wash over my head, down my back. Trying to loosen the stiffness in my shoulders and neck.
Last night, as Nicole and I waited in the hotel lobby for Ray and Pancake to show for dinner, a curious thing happened. One of the twins walked by, apparently heading to the bar to meet her sister. Nothing odd there. But after she greeted us with hugs, Nicole had called her Tegan. Just like that. Like she knew which twin she was. And she was right. After Tegan walked away, I asked, “How did you know that was Tegan?”
Nicole slapped my butt. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes, I would.”
She smiled. “My secret.”
“Come on.”
“Nope.”
“Not even a hint?”
“Not even. I like having the upper hand.”
Woman was evil.
Before I could twist her arm—like that would work—Ray showed, telling us he had called Pancake and that he and Sophie would meet us there. There being GW Fins, around the corner on Bienville. Five minutes later we were seated, and a couple of minutes after that Pancake arrived. With a cute, feisty redhead he introduced as Sophie the Makeup Queen. To which they both laughed hysterically. Inside joke, I suspected. Obviously, their time at Pat O’Brien’s had been spent getting blown away by their famous Hurricanes. Which was fine except they didn’t stop there. Through dinner they had more whiskey, wine, whatever, and unfortunately Nicole and I boarded the same train. Ray, less so. By the time we returned to our room, we were both hammered. Nicole fell twice trying to get out of her clothes. Me, only once. I’m a professional athlete, after all. Or was, anyway.
I foolishly thought we would crash, slip into a coma, and that would be that. Not Nicole. She was on fire. The next two hours were an exercise in Mummenschanz. She was like a gold-medal gymnast. She threw in a few back flips, walkovers, and a handstand or two, if memory serves. Me? I could only manage a layout. Afterward my legs were jelly, my back torqued, and I had no idea what happened with my neck. Only that twisting to my left wasn’t an option.
The hot water helped.
“How long are you going to stay in there?” Nicole asked as she pushed the door open. The room was foggy with steam.
“Still trying to recover from last night.”
“Wimp.”
Did I say she was evil?
“Better get a move on. We have to meet Ray and Pancake in about five.”
“Is he alive?”
“He texted an hour ago. While you were still sleeping. Asked if we wanted breakfast. After texting a no, I checked you for a pulse.”
“Funny.”
“Said he and Sophie were going to grab a bite before she headed to the set.”
“Sophie? That dog.”
“He is that. Now get your ass in gear.”
I did and off we went.
Last night, before it turned into a blur, we had talked with Kornblatt, who green-lighted a chat between Kirk and Doucet. As long as it was done with Kornblatt on speakerphone and as long as it was early so Kirk could get out to the set without upsetting the day’s shooting schedule too much.
Ebersole’s limo ferried us over to Doucet’s office. He had set up a speakerphone and recording device in a conference room and we gathered around the table. Ray, Pancake, Nicole, and I on one side, Doucet on the other, Kirk at the end. Once Kornblatt was on the line, Doucet turned on the recorder and began. After stating the date and time, he listed who was present. That went smoothly until he got to Pancake. Apparently, he realized he didn’t know Pancake’s real name.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Pancake.”
“No, your given name?�
��
“I like Pancake.”
Good grief.
“But for the official record I need your true name.”
“Oh. Tommy Jeffers.”
With that out of the way, Doucet went on to explain that the three of us were from Longly Investigations and were there at the request of Kirk Ford and his counsel. Then the questions began.
“Mr. Ford, I don’t want to rehash all the events of that night as you’ve already given a statement and I don’t want to waste your time. But I have a few specifics I want to go over.”
“Fine,” Kirk replied.
“You said that you and Kristi Guidry had dinner that evening. Where?”
“At NOLA.”
“With Tara and Tegan James?”
“That’s right.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Nine thirty.”
“Can anyone corroborate that? Besides the James twins?”
“The restaurant was packed. And I signed a half dozen autographs for people. Maybe some of them would remember the time.”
“Anyone specifically that you can recall?”
“The hostess. I don’t know her name but I signed one for her as we left. And Kristi took a picture of me and her on the girl’s phone. I imagine that would have a time stamp.”
Doucet nodded. “You returned to your room at the Monteleone. Immediately? Or did you go anywhere else?”
“No, we walked back. Took about five minutes.”
“Okay. And in the room you drank more wine and smoked some marijuana?”
“We drank wine with Tara and Tegan. Maybe a half hour. Then they left and we smoked after that.”
“To hide it from them? The marijuana.”
Kirk shook his head. “No. They just don’t use it, so we waited.”
“Okay, so after they left, you and Kristi smoked a joint?”
“Half a joint,” Kornblatt inserted, his voice metallic through the speaker.
“Yes,” Kirk said. “Half a joint.”
“And that joint was the one Kristi brought? Not one of the ones you had?”
“That’s correct.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?”
Kirk smiled. “I could never get the hang of rolling joints. Mine are always too loose and fall apart.”
“You are absolutely sure it was the one you say she brought?”
“Asked and answered,” Kornblatt said.
“Did she say where she got it?” Doucet asked.
“A friend.”
“Any idea who that was?”
“I’ll object to that,” Kornblatt said. “Calls for speculation. Unless she said who.”
“She didn’t,” Kirk said. “She only said ‘a friend’.”
“Did she say it was given to her or did she say she bought it?”
“I don’t recall her saying either. It wasn’t a big topic of discussion.”
Doucet nodded and consulted the notes he had before him. “Then the two of you had sex? True?”
Kornblatt interrupted again. “If you add consensual to your question, I’ll allow an answer.”
“Okay, consensual sex?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened after that?”
“That’s where things get fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy?”
“Don’t guess,” Kornblatt said. “If you recall anything clearly and specifically, then okay. But don’t assume.”
“We were lying there, holding each other. Catching our breath. And that’s the last thing I remember.”
“Until the next morning?”
“That’s correct. I woke up. She was laying there. I thought she was asleep. Until I tried to wake her.”
“That’s when you discovered she was dead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s when you called Mr. Ebersole?”
“That’s correct.”
“Not the medics? Or the police?”
“I knew she was dead. I mean, she was cold. And I freaked out.”
“In what way?”
“I think I’ll stop this line of questioning,” Kornblatt said. “It calls for him to say things that might or might not be true. Given his state of mind.”
I smiled. The defense at work.
Doucet continued. “But after Mr. Ebersole arrived, you did call the police. Correct?”
“Mr. Ebersole did.”
“The night before,” Doucet said, “did anyone else drop by the room? After the James twins left?”
“No.”
“Did either of you at any time after that leave the room? After the James twins left?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Asked and answered,” Kornblatt said.
“If Mr. Kornblatt will allow, let me ask it this way,” Doucet said. “Do you have a clear recollection of either of you leaving the room later that night?”
“Don’t speculate,” Kornblatt chimed in.
“Like I told you, I was out. Gone. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“And you didn’t give a room key to anyone?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Not to Kristi? For convenience?”
“No. I only had one and it was in the dresser drawer with my wallet.”
Doucet nodded. “That’s where we found it.”
Doucet shuffled the pages before him. “Okay, I think that’s all I need for now. Thanks for coming down and talking with me.”
Kirk nodded.
The meeting broke up. Kirk needed to get to the set so we turned him and Ebersole loose, saying we’d grab a cab. Ray wanted to chat with Doucet for a few minutes, and Doucet said he’d take us back to the hotel. Kirk and Ebersole left.
“I think tracking down where the drugs came from might be important here,” Ray said.
“You mean like someone who might have it in for Kristi, or for Ford?” Doucet asked. “Maybe an attempt to frame him?”
Ray nodded.
“The questions are who? And why?”
“Don’t have those answers. Yet. But pulling on that string might turn up something.”
Doucet shrugged. “Maybe. Probably not, but maybe.”
“What about some payback for Tony?” I asked. “Would that seem reasonable?”
“Nothing is reasonable as far as Tony Guidry’s concerned,” Doucet said. “But, I suppose that’s possible. Not sure I could come up with many names with the balls to do that though.”
“The ketamine?” Ray asked. “Any sources you can think of?”
“Several. We’re beginning to root around in that world. Hopefully something will shake loose.”
“What about this dude Ragman?” Pancake asked. “He someone on your radar?”
Doucet raised an eyebrow. “You know about him?”
“We do know what we’re doing,” Ray said.
“Ragman,” Doucet said. “Jimmy Walker’s the name his mother gave him. He’s a local punk. Deals. Under the umbrella of Junior Makin. Ju Ju to his friends. And the cops.”
“And he is?” I asked.
“A bad guy. Doesn’t deal drugs. He found a different niche. Sells protection to most of the dealers in the Quarter. Metairie and Algiers, too.”
“Sounds like a citizen,” Ray said.
“All that and then some. I had a chat with him. We scratch each other’s back from time to time. Said he’d look into it.”
“You believe him?” I asked.
“No. He’s just jerking us around. He ain’t going to dig up shit on his own guys.”
“Mind if we take a run at Ragman?” Ray asked.
Doucet smiled. “Sure, I’d love that. Anything that makes him uncomfortable is fine with me. He hangs in an alley over on Decatur. Between Bienville and Conti.” He shook his head. “Get this. Right next to the fire station.”
“Really?” I asked.
“He’s either clever or s
tupid. Probably both. But truth is the firemen, if they aren’t washing their gear, are usually on a call or resting up for the next one. The alley next door ain’t a big priority for them.”
“What about Tony Guidry?” I asked. “Do you think he’s a threat here? To Kirk?”
“Wouldn’t put anything past Tony. But that would be a stretch. I mean, would he whack someone? You bet. But this would be a shade too high profile for Tony. He likes to stay in the weeds.”
“Hoping the courts will take care of things?” I asked.
“Yep. And he’s tight with the DA.” Doucet looked at me. “Especially Assistant DA Melissa Mooring. Rumor is they’re an item.”
“Really?” Nicole asked. “How convenient.”
“And cozy,” I said.
“Not to mention a big old fat conflict,” Pancake added.
Doucet nodded. “Tony rarely worries about conflicts. At least not those kind.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
WE HAD DOUCET drop us at Mother’s Kitchen, just off Poydras at Tchoupitoulas. Home of the world’s best ham. Said so on the sign right over the entry door. Also said it was founded in 1930. Nicole had never been; Pancake and I never missed it when we were in New Orleans. Busy as always but the line at the order counter was shorter than usual. Nicole, Ray, and I ordered egg and ham biscuits, one each; Pancake, four—with a double order of grits. We grabbed a table and the food appeared in minutes.
Afterward we waddled back to the Monteleone where we left Nicole. We were heading over to Decatur Street to track down Ragman, and I didn’t want her around something that could go sideways. She protested. Ray took my side and didn’t budge. So, she decided to hit the spa and get a massage.
“Why?” I asked. “Did I wear you out last night?”
She slugged my arm.
I’ve got to learn to keep my mouth shut. But sometimes things just tumble out.
Decatur was only two blocks from Royal, toward the river. Ragman’s hangout, according to Doucet, was just around the corner. On the way, I thought about what we might accomplish by chatting with him. Probably not much. In my gut, I still felt that Kirk just might be the bad guy here. I hoped not, but the feeling was there. Trailing the drug’s path from the street to Kristi’s corpse and Kirk’s blood would only be useful if someone else had actually procured it and passed it along. I mean, if Kirk bought the drug that would only solidify his guilt in my mind. But if it were Kristi, that opened other doors. It was one of those doors we were hoping for.