Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (20 page)

CHAPTER 21

Adele sat at her computer and checked for new messages just as Murray had taught her. She saw one from Zoe and clicked on it.

Hi Adele. If you would like to have Grace for a couple hours this afternoon, let me know when, and I’ll have Maddie adjust her schedule accordingly. Love, Zoe

Adele smiled. Email was fun. She put her hands on the keys and then hesitated. What time should she tell Zoe? She had called Murray earlier this morning, and he was supposed to come by this afternoon and fix her dishwasher. What if he came by when Grace was there?

How could she respond to Zoe without revealing that Vanessa had slipped and told her Pierce didn’t want Grace there if any of the men from Haven House were around?

“What do I do?” she mumbled to herself. This was beginning to get complicated. She shouldn’t have to run her life to suit others. But wasn’t it important to be sensitive? Honesty was always the best policy. Tell Zoe what her schedule was, and let her work around it.

She began typing
. Dear Zoe, I would love to have Grace anytime that works for you. I am expecting Murray to come by and fix my dishwasher (which decided to stop working last night after dinner). I don’t know for sure what time he’s coming because he’s going to work me in. Isn’t email handy? I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner. Love, Adele

There. That was easy. Zoe could decide what she wanted to do. Adele clicked on Vanessa’s name, and a blank email page came up. She began writing a message.
Dear Vanessa, I’m thinking of you and praying that the authorities get to the bottom of Flynn Gillis’s murder so Noah’s name will be cleared. I’m here if you need some encouragement. With much love, Adele

Adele pressed the Send button and got up and walked out to the kitchen.

Isabel had a cup and saucer in hand and was about to sit at the table. “Good morning, Mrs. Woodmore. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Isabel brought Adele’s coffee to the table and then sat across from her. “Did you remember that Peter Gautier’s funeral is today at one?”

“Yes, I remember. I want you to take the afternoon off.” Adele took a sip of coffee and held Isabel’s gaze. “I called Murray this morning and asked him to come fix the dishwasher. I don’t think either of us can do without it for long. He’ll be by sometime after lunch.”

“You’re okay here by yourself?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Isabel started to say something and then didn’t. Just as well. Adele was in no mood to spoil a perfectly glorious day.

Zoe read Adele’s email and then put her phone in her pocket. So much for letting Grace go over there today. She would need to handle it delicately so Adele wouldn’t figure out that her change of plans was because Murray was coming over.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go see your uncles.”

Grace clapped her hands with delight, her topaz eyes wide and bright, her blonde curls pulled into pigtails tied with yellow ribbons.

“You want to walk or ride?”

“I walk.”

Zoe helped her slip on her Hello Kitty backpack and opened the front door. “Let Mommy help you down the stairs.”

Grace ran out of the apartment and down the hall, waiting at the top of the stairs, looking adorable in her sunflower sundress and matching sandals.

Zoe held tightly to her daughter’s hand as they walked together down the steps. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Zoe said, “Remember not to run.”

Grace let go of her hand and showed as much restraint as a two-year-old could, walking briskly through the alcove, past the office and the customer restrooms, and into the dining room. She squealed when she spotted the three men sitting at the table by the window. At that point, she forgot her manners and took off running.

By the time Zoe arrived at the table, Grace had shed her backpack and climbed into her booster seat and was already into her verbal routine with her adopted uncles.

Hebert leaned forward on his elbows, his mousy gray curls thick and unruly, his plaid shirt wrinkled. The adoring look on his face was priceless. How many more days would they have to enjoy his company? He was about to turn ninety-seven, though Zoe would have guessed him to be eighty.

“No, I
Grace
Brew-sar!”

“
You’re
Grace Broussard?” Hebert grinned and tapped her on the nose. “Den we do know you.”

Zoe took a beignet out of the basket, broke off a piece, and handed it to Grace. “Daddy’s making you something healthy and yummy. It’ll be ready soon.” She looked around the table. “How’s everyone this morning?”

Father Sam folded Monday’s issue of the
Les Barbes Ledger
and pushed it aside. “We were just talking about Jeanette Stein. What a tragedy.”

“Sure is,” Tex said.

“Everyone’s waiting for news dat dere’s been anudder murder, but dere hasn’t been any in two days. Dat’s good.”

“Maybe the killer did what he set out to do,” Father Sam said. “We can only hope it’s over.”

“I thought I heard somewhere the authorities have the killer’s DNA.” Tex hooked his thumbs on his red suspenders. “If so, all they need now is the killer. I haven’t heard anybody mention suspects.”

“I still think the bathtub killings are related to the layoffs,” Zoe said. “Though I don’t know how Jeanette Stein fits in with the CEOs.”

Father Sam took a sip of coffee. “Maybe the killer did away with the wrong person. Is that possible?”

“Highly unlikely,” Tex said. “Someone that set on
gettin’ even
for somethin’ isn’t gonna miss his mark. Hard to say how long he’s been plannin’ these murders.”

“Have there ever been serial killings in Les Barbes before?” Zoe said.

Hebert shook his head and scratched his unshaven chin. “Nope. Dere’s been more murders in Les Barbes in da past week dan dere’s been in two decades. Dis is out o’ control.”

“I’ll bet every CEO in the region is nervous.” Savannah stood at the table with a fresh pot of coffee and started pouring refills. “There’s no indication this killer is finished. Maybe there’s just too much media attention after Jeanette Stein’s murder, and he’s decided to lay low for a while.”

“I hope and pray he’s done,” Zoe said. “But Savannah may be right. He numbered the last victim. There was no indication it was over.”

Jude sat at the conference table in his office with Deputy Chief Aimee Rivette and Police Chief Casey Norman. He took a sip of the Starbucks coffee Aimee had picked up and read through the report on trace evidence gathered at the murder scenes of Jeanette Stein and Nicole Aubry.

DNA was found on a Kleenex in a trash can at the scene of Jeanette Stein’s murder—and it matched DNA from the eyelash found in Girard Darveau’s bathroom and skin cells on a towel found in Peter Gautier’s bathroom. The DNA didn’t match anyone’s in the NCIC database.

No conclusive DNA was found at Nicole Aubry’s murder scene. But a muddy right shoe print was found on the wet bathroom floor—a man’s size ten. Not distinguishable enough to identify the brand. But the soil analysis indicated soil consistent with south Louisiana and contained Broadleaf Buster Plus, a weed killer that could be bought at any garden center but was not found in samples taken from any of the victims’ yards. But it was present in soil samples collected from the floor at each murder scene.

“I think we can reasonably conclude we’re looking at the same perp,” Jude said. “Even though we didn’t get viable DNA from Aubry’s murder scene, her body was positioned in the bathtub as if she were lying in a casket—same as the others. We never released that detail to the media.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Casey said. “We’ve nailed this guy, but we don’t know who he is.”

“He’s bound to get careless.” Aimee pulled the box of doughnut holes closer and examined the choices. “They all do. I cringe to know he’s still out there. I really don’t want to conduct another interview like the one we did with Barry Stein.”

“I pushed him pretty hard.” Jude looked over at Casey. “I had to be sure he wasn’t involved in his wife’s murder. The guy’s certainly shrewd enough to pull off a copycat murder.”

“That’s for sure.” Casey set his copy of the report on the table. “Guess it’s a moot point now though. Stein volunteered his DNA, and it doesn’t match the lab results. And his shoe size is nine.”

“I didn’t need the lab results to know that man didn’t kill his wife,” Aimee said.

Jude didn’t either and was still ashamed that he had taken pleasure in making Barry Stein answer uncomfortable questions at such a gut-wrenching time.

“I suppose we should go out there and update the media,” Casey said. “It couldn’t hurt for people to know that their sheriff and police departments have been working round the clock. The lab put aside everything else and got us those results.”

Jude closed the report and rose to his feet. “Let’s go do it. We can conclude with relative certainty that the same person or persons were involved in the four serial murders.”

“Think we should get an FBI profiler involved?” Aimee said.

Jude shook his head. “We don’t need the feds to tell us these murders are related to the layoffs.”

“What about Jeanette Stein?” Aimee said. “The media’s going to ask you how she’s connected to the other victims.”

Jude arched his eyebrows. “We’ll just tell them the truth: We don’t know yet, but we’re connecting the dots. And while Casey and I talk to the media, why don’t you find out from Gil if his team has uncovered anything that would tie her to the others.”

Adele pushed aside the day’s newspaper and tried to put the disturbing headlines out of her mind. She looked out through the bay window at her nicely mowed and trimmed lawn. Noah’s suggestion to resod the yard with Saint Augustine grass had solved the problem of growing grass in limited sunlight—at least for now.

She smiled, thinking back on how she had enjoyed watching Noah as he plunged his hands into the damp, rich soil, creating a beautiful border garden along her fence. Pansies, jasmine, begonias, snapdragons, daylilies, and others she couldn’t remember the names of—colorful confetti, celebrating the Giver of life. Could the same gentle hands that had tenderly planted and cared for such delicate beauty also have brutally strangled another man to death? She shuddered to imagine it.