Casting Bones (37 page)

Finally, Garrett put the phone down and leaned back.

‘Damn, it's done.'

‘And how much did you transfer?'

‘Twenty-five. And that's a little low, so …'

Trueblood smiled, and took the phone from Garrett's hand. He studied the screen. Shock was setting in for the oilman. His leg was probably starting to go numb and his brain was slowing down as well. But it appeared that he'd had the lucidity to transfer the money.

‘All the money in the world can't bring you happiness, my friend, but it's a damned good start.'

‘Who are you really,' Garrett stared up at him.

‘An opportunist.'

‘Yeah, well we're all that, aren't we?'

‘Some of us,' Trueblood said, ‘see more opportunity than others.'

It was at that moment they heard the car roar up to the garage and two doors slam.

S
he turned onto the long drive, the prison in the distance. A low, concrete-block building painted a drab gray, sucking the color from an overcast sky. Rolls of razor wire layered the upper level and four blockhouses rose in the corners, where armed guards with high-tech workstations watched the facility twenty-four/seven.

Archer wasn't going to be inside the prison. Probably at the residence somewhere on the property. Solange Cordray lifted the faceguard and saw the paved road that ran beyond the prison. She gunned the engine and headed back the winding path. Finally, she saw the small guard shack and slowed. No one appeared to be inside and the cross bar that should have kept her out was broken, bent and pushed back off its hinges.

She braked, looked around the area and then gunned the bike through the entrance, following the path till it took a sharp right. The house to the left appeared to be the warden's domain, a large antebellum-styled home, and the garage immediately to the right was designed to look like a carriage house, with lantern-shaped lights on the corners.

Two cars were carelessly parked in front. The woman braked again, the throb of her engine the only sound in the eerily silent atmosphere. No birds, no insects, just a pressing heat and humidity, and an overcast sky.

Saying a silent prayer, she asked for victory in whatever situation she found herself.

One detective to check the inside, one to guard outside.

Levy cracked the side door and cautiously stepped in. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw three vehicles. Gun drawn, he walked to the front. Two bodies lay on the floor, the one on top still breathing, eyes cracked open. As he kneeled he felt the hard kick in his tailbone and he went sprawling, the Glock flying from his hand.

‘Detective Archer, I presume?' The man stood above him, his gun pointed at Levy's head.

Inside they heard the scooter. A cop, security guard, just a visitor?

Trueblood held the pistol firmly, realizing nobody in the garage except him could leave alive. Also realizing that outside, two people were potential threats. He couldn't just shoot these two inside and walk out the door.

Richard Garrett was passed out, slumped over Warden Russell Jakes's body. The homicide detective was sitting on the ground, hands behind his head as he glared up at Trueblood, watching his eyes, not the gun. Trueblood wasn't sure what he was going to do if those eyes changed, but he wanted to be ready.

‘So you're Archer?'

Levy nodded. ‘And you're P.T.'

‘I am. Your partner is still outside.'

‘He is. You're kind of trapped in here.'

‘Well, trapped is not the word I would use. I do have two hostages.'

‘You think you're going to walk away?'

‘I've stayed one step ahead of NOPD, and until now—'

‘We were going to figure out who you were. FBI, right?'

‘Well …' Trueblood smiled. ‘I'm a bit of a freelancer. Usually I fold right back in, but in this case, the money was a little too tempting.'

‘So you've got Garrett's records?'

‘Hell, Detective Archer, I've got his money.'

‘And it's not going back to the Feds, am I right?'

‘No, it's already on its way to Belize, or wherever it is I keep funds like this.'

‘You don't think they're going to find you? For that kind of cash?'

‘Detective, they wanted this kickback scam stopped and they wanted evidence. I've got the evidence and I've stopped the scam. Took care of the problem. My fee may be a little exorbitant this time, but—'

The side door rattled. Trueblood swung the gun up and toward the door as the front garage door started sliding up at the same time. As he spun around again, the side door opened and he heard a girl's voice.

‘Drop the gun or I'll shoot you, right now.'

He turned and fired at nothing but an open door.

‘Drop it.' A steely voice now came from the open garage door. ‘I'm Detective Quentin Archer and you're under arrest.'

The long slow sigh came from the floor where Detective Levy crouched. ‘'Bout time, bro.'

Trueblood raised his hands and slowly turned.

‘Drop it.'

‘The real Detective Archer.'

‘One more time, drop the gun.'

He shifted position, the gun now pointing directly at Levy.

‘I'll pull the trigger even if you shoot me, Archer. I kill him, or you let me walk out of here. You've got Garrett, you've got the records that you need. It's a win-win.'

‘I can't let you go.'

‘I just made a little transaction with your friend Garrett. I can work with you on this. You've got what you want, now I can sweeten the pot. Money under the table, Detective. But I am going to walk out of here, with or without your blessing.'

Archer considered the situation. It used to be called a Mexican standoff although he wasn't sure why. He couldn't put Levy at risk but he couldn't let P.T. go.

‘You're planning on leaving and that's not about to happen.'

‘Detective, Garrett is probably bleeding to death,' Trueblood said. ‘In another minute, I'll shoot your partner right through his heart. Let me go or you will be responsible for two deaths.'

‘Judge Lerner was going to give you the printouts, right? The prisoner numbers and the dollars that were paid.'

‘He was, but the Krewe found out. They had him killed.'

‘Krewe Charbonerrie seems to have found out a lot. They were suspicious of Judge Richard Warren, Traci Hall and—'

‘One of your own, Detective. A cop named Sullivan? He was calling Garrett, filling him in on where the investigation was headed.'

‘Dan Sullivan?' He didn't like Sullivan, but would never have suspected him.

‘That was it. He called Garrett a short time ago and told him you and Levy were coming.'

‘Really?'

‘Kind of threw you under the bus, Detective. We were expecting you.'

It wasn't the first time.

‘Sullivan's on the take?'

‘Not my take. I just heard about him for the first time. Another little bit of information that makes me more valuable. You see, I haven't really committed a crime. I've exposed Garrett and company, I've obtained the records that the FBI wanted, and I've shown how far a rogue cop will go.'

‘And you're threatening a police officer, and taking off with funds that are evidence in a Federal crime.'

‘Well, there is that.'

‘Drop the gun, Trueblood.'

‘No, Archer, I think I'll shoot your friend.'

The explosion was deafening in the confined space, and Archer felt the concussion from the firearm. Trueblood's eyes opened wide, then he pitched forward, his face hitting the concrete floor.

Q blinked, the gun still clutched tightly in his hand. He stared at the side door, seeing her silhouette standing just inside.

‘You're a pretty good shot.' His gun hand was trembling.

‘Matebo taught me how to hunt game.'

Levy stood up, turning to the woman.

‘Young lady, you may have saved my life.'

She couldn't tell him. It had been Archer's life she was concerned with.

‘Detective Levy, this is Solange Cordray. She's been giving me advice on the murder investigation. I guess she came up here to check on me and see if I was following that advice.'

They nodded to each other as sirens pierced the air. Three security cars screeched to a stop and armed prison officers stepped out of the vehicles, pistols drawn.

‘It's all over guys,' Archer said. ‘You're a little late to the dance.'

T
he Werewolf, Loup-garou, and the contact Sam Campari were still on the loose, but Archer was pretty sure they'd show up eventually. When they were arrested, the people who killed Warren and Hall would be uncovered. Garrett, in what he thought may be a death-bed confession, had given up the names of the Werewolf and Campari. But Garrett was very much alive and, although crippled for life, had negotiated a reduced sentence in exchange for his testimony. The lieutenant governor, Sergeant Dan Sullivan, a Senator Marvin Shoemaker and others were all going down with him. The list was long.

The man known as Paul Trueblood was given a one-million-dollar bond, and even though he could now afford it, the judge had somehow frozen any access to his assets. P.T.'s shoulder was damaged by the thirty-eight-caliber bullet, but he was expected to heal. The FBI refused to comment on the man or the subject.

‘Joseph Cordray, he had to have been a part of it too,' Levy said.

‘Obviously, and the Feds are looking into it. I'm sure the whole Krewe is in disarray.'

They sipped chicory coffee and watched the Quarter come alive from the front seat of Levy's car.

‘They haven't come out in half an hour.' Levy pointed to the small cottage on Magazine Street. ‘Any chance there's an exit we don't know about?'

‘No,' Archer said. ‘They're in there.'

The ‘they' were two women who had beat up a homeless veteran for his pension check. He'd died during the night and now the women were wanted for murder.

‘And what about Sullivan? Everything we learned, he was leaking to Garrett.'

‘Don't trust anyone, man,' Archer said. ‘Adam Strand, too. Who knows who else is on the take.'

‘I'm not too sure about you, Q.' Levy smiled. ‘And tell me more about this Solange Cordray.'

Archer was quiet, obviously thinking about his response.

‘It's pretty simple. You read the report. Mom was a voodoo practitioner, the girl is following in her footsteps.'

‘You believe in that shit, Q?'

‘Maybe. A little bit. I mean, she nailed it with Krewe Charbonerrie. There were a couple of other times that she …'

‘She what?'

Archer shrugged his shoulders. ‘Let's just say she surprised me.'

‘Yeah. But following you all the way to River Bend? What is she, your guardian angel?'

Archer wondered about that too.

‘She's passionate about what she believes.'

‘Yeah, so is she passionate about you? She's pretty hot.'

Archer shook his head. ‘In different circumstances …'

‘You'd consider a fling?'

Archer was quiet, and he sipped his beverage. Finally he spoke.

‘I'm still nursing a real Detroit hangover, Levy. I've got a ways to go.'

Just then two women walked out of the front door, looking left and right.

‘That's them. Let's roll.'

T
he call came at 3 a.m. He figured it was Detroit. Another warning call. Another harassment.

‘Q, it's Tom Lyons. We identified the license plate.'

Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Archer concentrated on the call.

‘You there?' Lyons asked.

‘Who was it?'

‘Car was stolen from a supermarket about a mile from the scene.'

‘Damn.'

‘No, Quentin. We were able to get the video from two parking lot cameras.'

‘Damn it, Lyons, finish this story or I'm coming back to Detroit and I'll rip your tongue out.'

‘Bobby Mercer or a dead ringer looks right at camera number one. We don't think there's any doubt.'

‘Jesus.'

‘We're being careful, man. As I said, we've got families. But we've got a DA who has promised to look hard at the evidence and, if he's convinced, we've got a case.'

‘Tom, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You've made my day. My night. My year.'

‘Got a ways to go, my friend. A ways to go.'

‘I'll come back. If you need me.'

‘No! We don't need you right now. Stay there and let us handle this. You come back and the whole thing explodes.'

Archer closed his eyes. His heart was racing and he was sweating. They'd identified the killer.

T
he wire-haired bartender pushed the drink down to him.

‘Vieux Carré, Detective. Rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, cognac and bitters. First served at the Monteleone, a New Orleans original.'

The bar was filling up, and Mike moved to the man sitting next to Archer.

‘Tell me, Ed, the best crawfish in Nawlins, am I not right?'

The man looked up from the heaping pile of red-shelled crustaceans and grinned.

She sat next to him, lightly touching his shoulder.

‘You do amaze me,' Archer said.

‘It's not my intention.'

‘Well, I'm glad you're here. I think I owe you my life.'

She smiled. ‘I am so glad you are alive.'

‘Seriously, Solange' – it was the first time he'd used her first name – ‘if it hadn't been for you showing up—'

‘I know.' She folded her hands in front of her, staring intently into his eyes. ‘Quentin' – the first time she'd spoken his first name – ‘I know you have a hard time believing in this thing that I do. I respect that. And it's not my intention to interfere in your private life.'