Red Ochre Falls (22 page)

Jos noticed my
relaxed state just as we hit the city.

“You should come
with me.”

“Next year?”

“No, tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“The farm.”

“What’s at the
farm? All night euchre tourney?” I asked, knowing her family’s most epic card
games lasted for days.

“Hay Bales.
Hundreds of ‘em.”

“What do I need
with hay bales?”

“They need painted
for the Harvest & Hayrides event.”

My eyes rolled back
into my head.

“It’ll be fun.
Besides, you need a change of scenery.” This was true. “If it helps, it’s a
paying gig.” She smiled then turned onto Vine.

Jos made good
arguments.

“If someone’s at
the parlor and will cover the phones, I can do it.”

“Deal,” she said
quickly.

“What did you do,
Jos?”

“I already cleared
it with Mr. Handsome.”

“Jos!” Embarrassment
lit my face.

“C’mon, he’s
totally cool with it.”

If I was going to
be taken seriously, I needed to calmly take back my schedule. “Jos—”

“It’s settled
then?”

“Do I have a
choice?”

“Not in this
matter,” she said, and we both got quiet.

The ‘home’ was lit
up the way it was every night there wasn’t a late viewing. One spot lit the
stone block engraved with the McKenzie name at the entrance, and several
outside lights glared around the building to keep away the unwanted—most
of them, anyway.

We looked at the
lot surrounding the car. I noticed a lit cigarette in a group of nearby
tenants, maybe co-eds, hanging out.

“You want me to go
in with you?” Jos asked.

Everything else
looked secure, and there were no ghosts or goblins I could see, so I told her
no.

“It should be fine.
I’ll text you when I’m inside.”

“Okay. Have a good
night, and try to get some rest.”

“Will do. You do
the same. And watch yourself getting out of here. It’s steeper than you think,
and everybody speeds, so gun it.”

“Got it. Hey, call
me in the morning. I have some job ideas.” My face crumpled a little thinking
about work. “I’ll bring coffee,” she sang.

“Sounds good.”

I got out with my
keys ready. One of the parking lot crew let out a screech, which sent me
sprinting to the door. The lock tumbled, and the door opened and shut as fast
as my human body could make it happen. After locking the door, my heart thumped
away. I pulled out my phone and texted Jos, but it took some effort to settle
enough to type.

The next order of
business was to grab the latest paperwork, and head upstairs.

That’s funny. There
was no paperwork on the stairs. Ryder told me there was a new one coming in
from Hospice tonight. Usually, someone leaves us a copy of the information so
we see it on our way up to the apartment.

I looked at the
stairs again then at the floor to see if the paper had fallen. Nothing. My
nervous energy was still elevated, but I figured Ryder ran out of time to do a
formal write-up. I headed for the office to grab his notes.

Halfway down the
hall, I noticed one of the desk lamps lit. I stopped moving. Before I could
turn, Manny saw me. “Hey. You looking for something?”

It didn’t sound
like Sledge was in the office with Manny.

Alarm bells were
going off in my head. “Yeah, um, yes. Paperwork on the new guy.”

“I think there’s
some paperwork over here,” he said, and started moving stuff around on the
desks with his eyes trained on me.

I planned to run,
but needed to get a head start, which I couldn’t do with him staring me down.

“It might be on
Hank’s desk,” I said, hoping he would move away from the doorway. Instead,
Manny slithered toward me.

“You know, it could
have been propped between the balusters. I’ll go check.” I turned to leave, but
Manny ran up to block me. Even putting his arm on mine to stop me.

“Where are you
going? I think what you’re looking for is in there,” he pointed to the office.

“It’s time for me
to leave,” I insisted, wishing I’d never come this way. Why didn’t I just go to
the apartment and lock myself in when I got home?

“Nah, why not hang
out with me?” He grinned, standing way too close for comfort.

“Manny,
it’s—”

“It’s time to go,”
Sledge was stern. Relief washed over me when I noticed Garrett walking along
side him. They came to where we were standing, and Sledge put his arm on
Manny’s shoulder, firmly. “C’mon.”

Manny looked
disappointed. “Maybe we’ll catch up some other time.” And like that, he and
Sledge were on their way out the door. “She’s looking for some kind of paperwork,”
Manny said over his shoulder, like he was trying to help all along. Not as if
he’d just scared the crap out of me.

I steadied myself,
and waited for them to leave.

“Sorry about them,”
Garrett said.

“Hazard of the job,
right?” Trying not to sound shaken.

“Some days I’m not
sure if he’s psycho, or really that weird. You didn’t text, and it’s—”
Garrett looked at his watch then blushed, “it’s almost seven.” He gently
twisted his fingers around mine. “Everything okay?”

“Not really, but
it’s getting better.”

He moved me to the
office, where we picked up the paperwork on our Hospice client. He shared a
brief overview of Mr. Newton, and a recap of the business.

“Can I walk you
home?” Garrett smiled, and the day’s worries washed away.

“Of course.” I smiled
back, and we headed down the hall.

It wasn’t a long
walk, but I told him everything about Tom Clark, the address, and the key. We
stopped at the top of the stairs, on the landing out side my door.

“What do you want
to do next?”

I trusted Garrett to
help. It didn’t feel right to try and trick him into going, so out it came. “I
was hoping you might accompany me on a little trip.”

He didn’t answer
right away. I briefly worried he might be upset, but I was going with or
without him. Then it occurred to me we had work responsibilities.

“Look. I’d like you
to come. But, I should wait until mom is back, so there is coverage on my end.”

“What about
school?” It surprised me to hear him ask.

“Class is Tuesday
and Thursday. If mom is home, and well enough, we could go next weekend.”

He leaned against
the doorjamb and grinned. Just stood there grinning.

“What?”

“You’ve got this
all figured out, don’t you?”

“Not exactly. I
don’t know where we’re going, where we’ll stay, or what we’ll find, but—”

“Mattie,” Garrett
said in a low, soft voice. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He moved in, and
left no gap between us, but waited for what seemed like my approval. My
expression warmed when I saw the look in his eyes. The seriousness was there,
but so was desire.

Garrett waited no
longer. He used his hands to pull my body against his and kissed me deeply. It
lit a fire so urgent, I grabbed at him so he wouldn’t stop.

We kissed and
tousled until I paused just long enough to get my key. I quickly unlocked the
door. Garrett hoisted me up around his waist, carried me inside then twirled me
around to shut the door and we kissed harder. I pulled at the back of his shirt
to get it off. It wouldn’t cooperate. His hand worked its way under my dress
and up my back. I clung tighter. Garrett started to unfasten clasps, but
hesitated. He kissed me intensely then placed me on the ground. I protested. He
pinned me against the wall and kissed me again, slow enough I knew how hard it
was to stop.

Garrett took a
reluctant step back, and my dress slid back into place. We looked at each
other, and for a moment, I thought we’d start up again.

Then the phone
rang.

I ran from the
kitchen to the living room to answer it. As soon as I said the usual greeting,
the line went dead. “Hang-up.” I banged the receiver back down and cursed under
my breath.
 

“Don’t worry.” I
came back to Garrett. “Probably just a wrong number.”

“Probably. Say the
word, and I’ll stay…to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” I didn’t
feel like he had to protect me, but it was reassuring to know he would.

“I know, but lock
up anyway. I’ll be downstairs a while. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Thinking
of him working on Mr. Newton killed the mood initially, but somehow I was
tempted to have him stay for reasons other than safety.

He headed for the
door. Before he opened it, he turned and spoke. “I don’t want to, but I have to
leave.”

“I know,” I said,
and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” he
said, and headed downstairs. He looked back and watched as I closed up behind
him. I made sure to turn all the deadbolts so he could hear them click into
place.

CHAPTER 18

Research kept me busy most of the night. After completing initial
work-ups on Ruggiano, and Tab (aka Brant Thibodeaux), I started files on Chloe,
Dr. Avanti, and even Tess.

Ruggiano had been
in trouble with the law since he was a teenager, no surprise there. During his
rise to the top, he was charged with assaulting a city council member. The
charges were later dropped. After that, he spent a couple years out of the
spotlight. One report hypothesized he was going legit while others claimed he
had health issues.
He acted crazy. Maybe he really was certifiable?

A few years ago,
photos of him with key public figures started surfacing. The papers snapped pix
of Ruggiano with a union leader, a few politicians, and a judge. His photo
appeared nearly every week for a couple months, moving closer to the front page
each time. It was as if it coincided with his rise in the organization. It
looked like a PR stunt to me, but what did I know?
 

The latest
headlines had him all but admitting the mob was in town, and he was in charge.
Ruggiano apparently ruffled some feathers with this approach because, as one
conspiracy blogger reported, he was at odds with other mob guys in the region.

Fascinated with the
history and hierarchy of organizations like the
Cosa Nostra
, I read
about them as a hobby. While the public heard stories of the most notorious
gangsters, many lasting and prosperous gangs grew successful because they
stayed closed off, and operated under the radar. Ruggiano seemed to be bucking
those rules. A loose cannon? Probably. He worried me, but until there was more
to tie him to Chloe, or the doctor, I had to move on.

Tab’s family had
been prominent in New Orleans social circles for decades. Beneficiaries of the
oil boom, his family held wealth and power.

Scandal rocked the
Thibodeaux family when Tab’s uncle was jailed for bribing a judge to approve
drilling in a protected area.

Tab’s older brother
struggled with addiction, and made front-page news every time he went to rehab.
Their father Lawrence, a former city council member, was caught in the company
of a prostitute, and arrested for assaulting her. No charges were filed. He
claimed they were admiring his antique weapon collection when she accidentally
ran into the butt of his gun several times, so he was released. Tab, raised by
a cruel father, developed a penchant for fighting, and hitting women. Not
exactly a wholesome clan.

The family had
enough money to ‘fix’ most of their problems. But they sent Tab away to ‘find
himself’, or more likely, to avoid authorities for boosting a car in Baton
Rouge. He became our problem instead.

Every once in a
while Mr. Thibodeaux, with or without his wife, appeared on campus. He’d
deliver a huge check and some board members would pat his back and make a big
deal of it.

Sophomore year
Parents’ Weekend mom and I bumped into him. By this time, mom knew Tab abused
Chloe. She made no bones about bringing it up to Mr. Thibodeaux.

“Lawrence, don’t
you think you should talk with Tab? Mattie told me he’s been hitting Chloe.”

Mr. Thibodeaux assessed
the scene to see if anyone was listening before he responded. “Nora, I
appreciate your advice. We’ll look into it.” They exchanged a few words, but it
was tense the entire time.

Mr. Thibodeaux
stopped next to mom before he left. I overheard him.

“As a politician, I
welcome the public’s advice. However, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your
mouth shut about my parenting. We’re huge donors to this school and everyone
benefits from Tab being here. Let the kids work out their own problems.” With
that, Mr. Thibodeaux excused himself and schmoozed his way through the room.

Anger burned in
mom’s eyes. “That man is as rotten as his son. I’ll have a talk with Chloe’s
mom. If it doesn’t work, promise you’ll stay away from them all.”

I just nodded. Mom
was right. I trusted her to let Mrs. Ellis know what was really going on with
her daughter’s boyfriend.

Chloe knew about
Tab’s past, and begged her mom not to interfere. Chloe was desperate to help
Tab. She sympathized because his home life wasn’t as nurturing as hers. I was
less forgiving. This continually caused problems between us. Time to move past
Tab’s file before I got too angry to work.

There wasn’t much
new about Chloe, except she had been a talented cellist, and had recently
received a Community Service Award. Grief felt too fresh, so I quickly put
aside her file.

Tess was a bit of a
wildcard. All the things Garrett had told me about her family were true, but
there wasn’t much else to find. She had two older sisters and a younger
brother. Her parents owned a family business, paid taxes, and stayed out of
trouble. I was curious to find out what was going on with Tess because she was
Garrett’s ex, and showed up with Ruggiano, but the Internet didn’t have a lot
on them, and my energy waned.

I’d nodded off when
Garrett called and asked me to come downstairs. After saving my files, and
plugging in my laptop, I made my way to him.

He met me in the
back hall, outside the prep area. I stood in a stupor, listing slightly to one
side. Moving with purpose, he handed me a clear plastic baggie.

“I hate to bother
you this late. Do you recognize this number?” The only indicators of his
fatigue were under-eye circles and some stubble. I focused on what was inside
the bag. A white card with reddish smudges. It was a business card for Ted
Oxley, Attorney at Law. The front listed his contact information. On the back,
in writing I recognized, was the name C. Ellis with Chloe’s cell number written
next to it.

I took a deep
breath and sat in one of the chairs outside the Prep Room. “It’s Chloe’s.”

“I thought so,” he
said grimly.

“What’s the stuff
on the card? Is it dried blood, or something?” I had a bad feeling.

“It’s the same
powder we’ve seen on a couple other victims.”

“Victims?”

“Long story.”

“Well, I can’t
exactly leave now. Why don’t you fill me in?” I sank into a chair and listened.

“Jimbo, the guy you
freaked out about your first day here, and nearly killed yourself running away
from?”

“Yeah.”
Unfortunately, I remembered.

“He had the reddish
powder all over him, and so did another woman that came in around that time.
Cal asked me to give them a once over.”

“Why?”

“Gut feeling. He
thought two people dead within a week of each other, both painted red, was more
than a coincidence.”

The way he said
‘painted red’ made me curious. Seeing Jimbo dead wasn’t the only reason I ran.
Sure, he looked like a cross between an Aborigine and a powdered donut, which
was creepy enough on its own. What I couldn’t shake was the thought he’d wake
up at any moment. I knew he was dead. But he terrified me. It didn’t help that
we were alone with his dead body in the back room of a funeral home.

Since then, I
learned others have had similar fears. The living, unless they’re in the
business, or exposed to it regularly, don’t have a chance to get used to death.
It can feel antiseptic and cold—far away from the make-up enhanced,
tranquilly lit glow shown at viewings and funerals.

Garrett and Ryder
grew up around the dead. By now, they’d seen enough to know what to expect, or
maybe they’d become desensitized.
 

“We weren’t
supposed to see him like that. There was a mix up with the delivery, and we got
him first. The Coroner’s Office picked him up the same day. But not before I
was able to do an exam of my own. He had the same needle mark as Chloe.”

“What about the
other lady?” The second ‘dusty’ one as Sledge called her.

“Another delivery
mix-up. Someone wanted us to see those bodies before the Coroner. I know it.”

Garrett sat beside
me—tired, defeated eyes. “When I talked to Cal, he told me to keep it
under wraps until we had more proof.”

“Proof? Garrett,
what’s going on?”

I flinched when the
back door opened. Garrett reached out for me. “It’s okay, I called Cal.”

“Hey man,” Cal
nodded to Garrett as he stepped into the hallway with us. “Hey Mattie. You
doing okay? You look shocked.”

“Fine. Just a
little on edge.”

“Do you want
coffee, or anything, Cal?”

“Nah, wired enough
because of this case. Did you catch her up yet?”

“We just got started.”
Garrett answered.

“Would someone
please tell me what’s going on?”

Cal stepped closer.
“You were right. Chloe was murdered.”

“It’s what I’ve
been saying all along!” I banged my hands on the chair and stood up.

“Take it easy.”
Cal’s hands moved downward, like the motion could suppress my anxiety.

Garrett jumped in
with a softer voice. “She had needle marks like the others. But they were
covered in powder. She wasn’t. The only other connection is the business card
with Chloe’s name and number. It appears to be smudged with the same powder.”

“Our lab tested
it,” Cal explained. “They found out the powder is actually a pigment called Red
Ochre. This particular one is used to make paint. It’s sold by high-end art
supply dealers.”

“What does paint
have to do with Chloe?”

“Well, we don’t
exactly know yet. Maybe she was involved with the other murders, or knew
someone who was.”

“Excuse me? How did
we go from Chloe was murdered, to she was involved in multiple murders?” I bit
at my lower lip while my fingers twisted the edge of my shirt over and over
again.

“Hold up there. I
said maybe she was. It may seem unlikely to you, but it is possible. I’m a cop,
and doing my job means being thorough. I have to question everything—even
people I know.” He eyed me suspiciously, which was more annoying than anything.

“I thought it also
meant you’re supposed to also trust your instincts,” I fired back. “Mine tell
me she wasn’t part of a double homicide.”

“Point taken.” Cal
eyed Garrett. They kept me out of their telepathic conversation. But I knew
there was something they weren’t telling me. “You mentioned Chloe called you
for help earlier. Did she say why?”

“She wanted to my
help on a case.” If they weren’t talking, I wasn’t either.

“Did she say what
case?” Cal sounded annoyed.

Sorry Cal, if
you want more, you’re going to have to ask for it,
I thought.

“I may take that
coffee after all,” Cal said. Surprised, Garrett went to get Cal’s drink.

Cal waited until
Garrett was through the office, and out of earshot. He leaned over me.
Instinctually, I backed up a step. Cal shook his head, and dropped his stern
expression.

“I didn’t mean to
be harsh, but you were pretty worked up.” Cal looked over at the door,
calculated something in his head, and got to it. “I wanted to talk to you
alone. Tox screens aren’t back yet, so I can’t say if all the vics were
injected with the same stuff, but the needle marks were nearly identical. When
Garrett told me about them, I checked with the Coroner’s Office. They weren’t
noted on any files I saw. Tess had her hands on all the cases.”

“We questioned
her—”

“I know. I’m
worried she’s given Garrett some excuse, and he’s too involved to see through
her BS.” The realization she had some hold on him now, or ever, left me uneasy.

“Why are you telling
me this?”

“You need to watch
out for him. If Tess is involved in these murders, or covering them up, she may
try and drag Garrett into it with her.”

“How do you expect
me to keep tabs on him?”

“You don’t need to
tail him or anything, Nancy Drew,” Cal laughed. “It’s just that he’s been
spending a lot of time with dead bodies lately. So let me know if you notice
anything weird—”

I wondered how much
time Cal had, because since we’d moved in I’d seen a lot of weird.

“Or if Tess shows
up here again.”

We heard Garrett
get closer, so we nodded our agreement.

“We’d established
the vics shared similar markings, but we didn’t have much else,” Cal spoke as
if he hadn’t just told me to keep an eye on Garrett. “Appreciate the cuppa
joe.”

Garrett eyed us
both. It took a second for me to plaster an interested-in-what-Cal-was-saying
look on my face. Hopefully, it worked.

“Brass wanted to
keep it under wraps until we knew for sure it was a multiple homicide.”

“What does Brass
say now?” I questioned.

“They’re getting on
board. The first two vics were found in Ruggiano’s territory, but management is
hesitant to tip him off that we think he’s involved. Besides, we’re stretched
pretty thin, and it’ll take more than what we’ve got for them to assign
resources.”