Chapter Twenty-Two

Alex, Joanne, and I had a great time at the concert, especially as we were one row in front of Torbin and his friends. I gave Alex and Joanne a bare-bones version of how I knew Brooke O.—that she was a friend of Torbin from way back and through him had hired me to do some private investigating. One of the things she was paying me for was confidentiality, after all.

We did get to go backstage, although it was pretty chaotic there. We had time for a quick hello and all got our photos taken with her, then she was consumed by other friends and well-wishers. I didn’t want to abuse her generosity.

Besides, I’d see her tomorrow.

After the show we went out to the French Quarter where the bars were busy, but it was different than before Katrina. Still we had a good time; it’s hard not to have a good time with Torbin. It was good to see Alex throw back her head and laugh. At one point in the evening, Joanne had smiled at me as if to say thank you for getting Alex out.

I didn’t get to bed until after two a.m.

My cell phone woke me a little after nine.

It was Liz. “Did you get in touch with Nathalie?”

“No.” Then to prove I wasn’t a total sluggard I ran down what I’d done to try to contact her—the phone call, going out there, and how unhelpful the supposed adult guardian was being.

“Drugs?” Liz said about Carmen’s little activities. “That’s a mess.”

“I think she’s already sucked Nathan, Nathalie’s twin brother, into her spiderweb, and I’m worried that Nathalie might get mixed up in it, or that the two of them dump on her.”

“If you want to go out this evening, I can go with you.”

“You found something on the blood test?”

Instead of answering my question, she said, “What do you know about her home life? Did she talk to you much?”

“Some. Lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. Pretty conservative, religious family. The sole phone is in the barn because it’s only supposed to be used for business. The kids did get a cell phone for this trip, but Nathan has custody because he’s the boy even though he’s less responsible than Nathalie.”

“Boys often lag behind girls in maturity at that age,” Liz said, then asked, “Do you think she’s sexually active?”

“Not unless you count sex as milking cows. Why?”

Again Liz didn’t answer my question. “Can you be positive about that?”

“She’s not just fifteen, but a sheltered fifteen. She seemed very embarrassed about things that most kids wouldn’t blink an eye about.”

“Like what?”

“Like a blow job. Seems that Carmen and Coach Bob did that. Nathalie saw a head go below desk level. She was bright red when she told me. Plus, I suspect she’s a dykling—maybe not even aware of it yet, but I’d bet money that she’s coming out some day.”

“Interesting.”

“She’s pregnant. Or she has a sexually transmitted disease.” I stated it as fact to see if she would confirm what I already seemed to know.

Liz was silent for a long time. Finally she said, “This is a mess. She’s a minor, but is old enough to make some decisions. I really need to talk to her.”

“We’ll go out this evening and find her. You can yell ‘health department’ and scare the crap out of that church kitchen.”

We agreed to meet around five at my office.

Lovely, another trip out to Kenner scheduled as a start to my morning.

I got up. After the bars and the concert, I needed a bath, which meant heating water on the hot plate. I got a few inches in the tub of water that was warm enough to put my naked body into and did a quick sponge job.

As I hurriedly toweled dry I vowed that on the day I had hot water I would take a long bath that lasted for hours, just soaking in the luxury of that enveloping warmth.

Once I was dry, I put on the most professional of the few clothes I had—black jeans, a blue sweater, and a blazer. I would really have to make a run by the house today and get more clothes. I’d let fate decide for me. If Cordelia was there…she would be there. If she wasn’t, I’d just grab my stuff and come back another time to talk to her.

Now that I had an actual case—plus the Nathalie problem—my schedule was filling up. Of course, I should have met with Cordelia right after she came back. Of course, I should have been better than I was, stayed away from booze, not let life just dribble past me.

Maybe this evening, after I’m done with Liz and the trip to Kenner. We should be back before too late.

Right now I wanted to meet with Jared, ostensibly to get his input on any disgruntled employees, but also to have more time with him and see if Brooke was indeed right, that there was another side to him. Or if there was a side to him that she hadn’t seen.

As befitted a multi-faceted corporation, their offices were in the CBD. This gleaming swath of modern office buildings is situated between the French Quarter on the downtown side and the Warehouse District on the uptown side.

Their office was on the e.g. between the CDB and the Warehouse District, in an older building. The actual company name was La Petite Crescent, Inc. I took a creaky old elevator up to the fifth, and top, floor.

I hadn’t called ahead; I might not find Jared here or be able to see him, but I wanted to discover what he was like without any time for preparation. Brooke had hired me to investigate not only the blackmail, but Alma’s death. Neither of us might like where that took us.

The office area was welcoming without being ostentatious, with a leather couch and several comfortable chairs in the reception area. Marilyn’s love of plants obviously carried over here, as the area was filled with greenery.

I gave my name and asked to see Jared. The receptionist didn’t question me, just said she’d let him know I was here.

After about five minutes Jared came out. He had on a blazer, tie, and jeans, professional and comfortable.

He approached me with his hand out. “Hey, that’s service. I didn’t expect you to get here this soon.”

I returned his handshake, a little macho, a little hearty. He seemed surprised by my visit, but was putting a game face on.

“A lot of what I do is cull through heaps of information, so the sooner I have the information, the sooner I can look at it.”

“Follow me.” Jared led me down a hallway to a corner office also with a number of plants, an old wooden desk in one corner, and a table with chairs opposite it. It was a nice office, but hardly one that shouted, “I’m the boss’s son and this will be mine someday.” The furniture was good quality, but had seen years, if not decades, of use.

He motioned to the table and I sat.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water? Juice?” He remained standing.

“Only if you’re having something.” That was my standard answer.

“I am,” he said. “I have a bad sparkling-water habit. Could that be blackmail material?” He crossed the office to a small refrigerator behind the desk. “Lemon or lime?”

“Raspberry might be blackmail material, but lemon or lime is too tame.”

He snorted a laugh. “No raspberry. I guess I’m boringly normal. Would you like lemon or lime?”

I opted for lime and he took lemon. Then Jared joined me at the table.

“So what can I do for you?” he asked.

I decided to ask the intrusive questions first to see how he reacted. “Anything in your life that could be used against you? We’re not talking sparkling water here.”

He looked at me, then took a sip of his water. “Why don’t you tell me what you really want to know and not beat around the bush?”

“Liaisons with men, underage women, married men or women, drug addiction, S&M, DUI’s—anything a blackmailer might use against you?”

“That’s a pretty long list. I thought you were here for possible names of people who might want to get us.”

“That, too. But it’s hard to investigate when I’m missing big pieces of information. If the blackmailer knows something that I don’t, then he or she has a major advantage.”

“What if the blackmailer doesn’t know it and we tell you our business?”

“I keep it quiet. Everything I find out is confidential. A way to look at it is information resides in boxes. Knowing the information and who has access to it can be very helpful in determining who might be doing this.”

“You keep it quiet, but what if you’re subpoenaed? Or stumble over something illegal?”

“I’ve never been subpoenaed and would try like hell to avoid it. As to discovering something illegal, that depends on what it is. I’m not the police. It’s not my job to enforce the law. However, there are some things I wouldn’t overlook.”

“Like what?”

“Murder. If you diddled little girls.”

“Ugh. If I did that you should turn me in.” He took another sip of his water and avoided eye contact.

“You can try and hide things, but it’s hard to do when a trained investigator is looking into your life. You might weigh whether it’s better to tell me up front or have me find out anyway.” I looked at him directly. He was still drinking his water and avoiding me. Was his sparkling-water addiction really an excuse to have something to do with his hands and his eyes?

“Okay, I’ll confess. I forgot to send my mother flowers on her last birthday. Guilty, guilty, guilty.” He gave me a shy-boy grin.

“I’ll put you down as the choirboy who never misses a chance to help old ladies across the street. Since that covers you, what about ex-employees or anyone who might have it in for your family?”

“I honestly can’t think of anyone.”

“You’re one of the richest families in the area and you’ve never pissed anyone off?”

“Well, I’m sure we’ve pissed people off, but it’s all been things like a business deal, nothing that anyone would murder or blackmail over.”

“Really? You screw someone out of a deal that they need to keep going and you don’t think they might not be happy?”

“We don’t operate that way. Maybe Jameson did back in the day, but my dad and I are truly committed to being ethical and aboveboard. Most people are happy to do business with us.”

“What kind of business do you engage in?”

“Mostly investment banking and venture capital. We provide a lot of seed money for local businesses and development. We own or co-own a number of enterprises, especially hotels and restaurants. With most we have long-term relationships. It’s good for them and good for us.”

“Can you give me a list of any of those long-term relationships that ended in divorce? What about employees? Any fired who weren’t happy about it?”

“You can’t please everyone. But we try to work with employees who aren’t performing up to standard. Usually by the time they’re let go, it’s clear to both sides that this wasn’t a good fit.”

“In a rational world, yes. But we’re not looking for a rational person. We’re looking for a criminal. This person could be stewing over the janitor’s job he lost ten years ago.”

“My mother said it was a woman’s voice. So shouldn’t we be looking for women?”

“The first call was. The second was a man. No transsexuals yet. A fair number of women are involved with men, and a fair number of them do foolish things for those men. He had her call first as women tend to be more verbal, then for whatever reason, he called the second time. It could be a couple, but it’s also possible that it’s more than two people. Men are criminals at a much higher rate than women.”

“What about the woman that uncovered this stuff? Are you looking into her?”

“I am, but she’s the one person I can eliminate.”

“Why?”

“She was already dead when the second phone call came. If she was involved, she’s been cut out of the deal.”

His assistant buzzed and reminded him of a meeting that was about to start.

As he saw me out, Jared agreed to get me a list, although it was clear that he thought this was a waste of time.

I was again in the creaky elevator. Jared had given me very little information; he even seemed to be trying to misdirect me. He had done a good job of controlling the interview and keeping the walls up. It was hard to tell why—if he was socially awkward, as his sister seemed to think, or if he was trying to hide something.

As I left the building, I mused that just as crime is more likely to have a man involved than a woman, men with power are often the ones who will do anything to maintain that power. Jared hit every mark: a straight white male with lots and lots of money. Those with power often did the most damage. The destroyed levees, the neglect of those in authority to a drowning city destroyed much more than even a dozen petty thieves.

Driving back to my office, I had to admit that Jared was right about looking into Alma. Obviously she was out of the picture, but she had a sister who’d gone to jail and a brother who was married to a white woman. Could Marilyn have heard one of them on the phone? Both had been hit hard by Katrina, the brother losing his house and the sister losing the one home she could go back to and be taken in. How close was the family and how likely was it that Alma had shared what she had uncovered about their twisted and unfair family history?

If power was a motivator, so was desperation.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14