“That will take some doing.” Galen stepped closer, took a penlight out of his pocket, and shone it down into the coffin. “It’s damn chilly. It must be damp in every molecule of this place.”
“It’s very warm in her workroom.”
“It’s fine,” Eve said absently, her gaze on the skull. She still couldn’t see worth a damn, but the penlight was better than nothing. Although the skull was blackened by fire, it was intact, except that there were no teeth and the jaw was shattered. But there were no visible punctures or breaks. That was lucky.
“It’s a male. Caucasian. The skull is surprisingly well preserved. I’ll be able to work with it.”
“He’s been roughed up a little.” Galen pointed to the shattered jawline. “And no teeth. He’s been through one hell of a battle. Reminds me of that gladiator movie.”
“Shut up, Galen,” Eve said. “I have to have an unbiased mind when I do the final stage. I don’t want the face to look like Russell Crowe.”
“Great movie.” Galen glanced at Rick and winked. “You can tell me who you think he is later when she’s not around.”
Rick smiled and shook his head. “I’m as much in the dark as you are. I can only guess.” He turned to Eve. “I’ve got a pedestal and two worktables in your studio. I understand you’ll need a video and computer setup for confirmation. I’ve been in touch with the Forensic Department at LSU and I think I’ve got it hooked up right. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll bring the skull to you.”
He was obviously ready to whisk her out of the chapel and set her to work. His eagerness was very appealing, but she wasn’t ready to leave the skull yet.
“Galen, why don’t you go with Rick and check out the workroom for me while I try to take a better look at the skull?”
“Sure.” Galen handed her the penlight. “Not my most interesting assignment, but I live to serve.”
“Thanks.” She shone the penlight into the nasal cavity. “Definitely Caucasian . . .”
“Come on, Rick. We’re not wanted.”
Eve was vaguely aware that they were gone and she was alone in the chapel. It didn’t matter. Her feelings of unease had completely dissipated the moment she had seen the skull. He was just another one of the lost ones. It didn’t matter if this was Bently or some poor vagrant. In the end he had clearly been as much a victim as little Carmelita, whose reconstruction she had just finished. Judging by the condition of the skull and the fact that those teeth had probably been jerked out after death, he might have been more of a victim.
Time to get to know him. Eve gently touched his cheekbone. “What do I call you?” She knew it would seem nuts to anyone on the outside, but she made it a practice to give all her subjects names. Each one had a history and a life. They had laughed and been loved by someone, even this poor beat-up warrior. He’d obviously not won this last battle, but she hoped he’d had his share of victories.
“Victor? Not a bad name.” She nodded. “Works for me.” She carefully swung down the heavy lid. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Victor. And we’ll see what we can do about bringing you home.”
“Ready?” Galen was standing in the doorway. “Rick’s done you proud. Your workroom is wonderfully equipped, lots of light and heat. Clean and shining as a Marine recruits’ barracks. Do you want to see it?”
She started to tell him yes, and then stopped. Dammit, the energy she’d thought she’d regained was draining out of her. She came toward him. “No, I trust you. I’ll see it tomorrow when I move in.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Okay, you were right about my not being up to full speed. I thought I could start tonight, but I’m too tired. I can’t begin him when I’m this weak.” She grimaced. “I’ll be glad when I get back to full strength. I took that long nap this afternoon, but even so, all I want to do is sleep.”
“Then that’s what you should do. I’m glad you’re not going to insist on starting work tonight.”
“I’ve already started work.” Eve glanced over her shoulder at the black coffin. “And keen wits and alertness are essential to set up my equipment and start the measuring. Victor can wait a few more hours.”
“Victor?”
“The skull.”
“Oh.” Galen didn’t look at her as they started down the hall. “I don’t want to be impolite, but do you always talk to skulls?”
“No.” She gave him a limpid stare. “I’m very selective.”
“It’s okay with me. Just thought I’d ask.” His gaze went to Rick standing with Melton at the front door. “Rick seems to be a nice guy. Sharp, too. He went to school up north.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. He sounds like a Yankee. Where did he go?”
“Notre Dame. Big football fan.”
“It goes with the territory. He looks like the all-American boy, with that fair hair and those rosy cheeks.” She dismissed the subject. “Did you find out when Marie’s funeral is tomorrow?”
“Eleven. Are you still going?”
She nodded. “I’ll set up early and then break to go to the funeral.” As Eve and Galen left the church she held out her hand to Rick, who was still waiting by the front door with Melton. “Thank you for everything. I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It will be my pleasure.” He shook her hand. “I’ll have everything ready for you. I notice the skull is a little dirty, but I left it for you to clean.”
“That’s exactly right. We don’t want to risk any more damage.”
He nodded solemnly. “Certainly. Is there anything else I can do?”
Good Lord, he was intense. But that almost childlike earnestness was kind of sweet. “You won’t find me very demanding. Just let me do my work.”
He smiled. “No one will disturb you. I promise you.” He turned to Galen. “An honor, sir.”
Galen looked taken aback. “See you, Rick.” He said in an undertone as he and Eve left the church, “Sir? Am I getting that old?”
“You don’t see that kind of courtesy anymore. I think it’s refreshing.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“How old are you, Galen?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“That qualifies.” She had a sudden thought and glanced back at Rick, who was still talking to Melton. “Rick.”
He broke off and looked at her. “You need something? You only have to ask.”
“A dragon to kill, a Holy Grail to find,” Galen murmured sarcastically.
She ignored him. “Were you here two nights ago when I came to the church, Rick?”
He frowned. “You were here before?”
“The first night I arrived in Baton Rouge. I came and knocked on the door. No one answered.”
“Because no one was here. I was at LSU arranging for the video equipment. I just arrived yesterday morning. I would have answered the door if I’d been in the church.”
“No one was here?”
He shook his head. “Only the guards patrolling the grounds. And I guess they must have realized you weren’t an intruder. You thought there was actually someone inside the church?”
“No, I guess not. I just had a feeling that . . . Never mind. I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned to Melton. “Good-bye, Senator.”
“I take it you’re going to accept the job? I wasn’t sure you would. I’m very grateful.”
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for that man’s family.”
He smiled. “I’m still grateful. I’m glad everything is working out well. You have my phone number; please call me if there’s any problem.”
“You can count on it. Come on, Galen.” Eve started toward the bridge.
“Did you see anything that led you to believe someone was here that night?” Galen asked.
“No, it was only a feeling.”
He chuckled. “Maybe it was the ghost of our gladiator.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“That’s probably good. Considering how many skeletons you deal with, you could become a basket case.”
She glanced away from him. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“I don’t
not
believe in them. I think anything is possible. I just have to be shown.” He smiled. “And so far our ghostly friends haven’t seen fit to show themselves to me.”
“The mind sees what it wants to see. It’s all imagination . . . or dreams.”
“Dreams?”
She changed the subject. “And stop calling him a gladiator.”
“That’s right. His name is Victor. Isn’t that what you called him?”
She glanced back at the church. Melton and Rick must have gone back inside. The door was shut, and the entrance had regained that air of forbidding secrecy she’d noticed the first time she saw it.
Well, secrets were meant to be solved, and tomorrow she would start. “Yes, his name is Victor.”
“Will you do it?” Joe asked. “All I’m asking is an afternoon of your time. Just come with me to Capel’s neighbors and let them describe the guy to you.”
“Don’t bullshit me. That’s only where it starts.” Lenny Tyson penciled in a line beside the flaring nostrils of the woman in his sketch. “Then the real work begins, and I’m swamped right now. You know that, Joe.”
“A favor, Lenny.”
Tyson glanced up from the sketch. “Why? Is the guy a mass murderer or something?”
Joe shook his head. “This isn’t department business, it’s personal. I’ll pay you twice what the department pays for composite sketches. George Capel was seen by two neighbors the day before he disappeared. He entered his condo with a small, dark-haired man in his late twenties or early thirties. They came out a few hours later and drove off together. He was seen again later that same day at the bank where he has a safety-deposit box. The same man accompanied him. That was almost a week ago.”
“And you want me to draw a sketch of Capel’s friend?”
“Come on, Lenny. How long could it take?”
“It depends how good a memory the neighbors have.” Tyson leaned back in his chair. “Seven days is a long time. It’s promising that they remembered the color of his hair and that he wasn’t a big man. How close does it have to be?”
“I want to try to compare it to mug files.”
“Ouch. That’s tough.”
“Will you do it?”
“Twice what the department pays?”
“Three times.”
Lenny sighed, stood up, and grabbed his art portfolio. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 6
Victor’s skull was sitting on a pedestal when Eve walked into the workroom at seven the next morning.
“I told you I’d have everything ready.” Rick beamed as he gestured around the small room. “There are your worktables, and I got the pedestal from a sculptor who lives here in Baton Rouge. Is it okay?”
“Very nice.”
“And the video equipment?”
“I’ll check it out later. That’s the last stage.” Eve set her case down on the worktable. “Now, if you’ll get me several towels and a bowl of water, I’ll be able to start.”
“Sounds like you’re going to operate or deliver a baby.” Galen had appeared in the doorway.
Rick chuckled as he hurried out of the room.
“There are similarities to both.” Eve rolled up the sleeves of her loose white shirt. “I was wondering where you were this morning.”
“I was on the phone most of the night. I kept an eye on you from my balcony when you left the house.”
“Why were you on the phone?”
“Research. Melton is a little too slick for my liking. So I called a few contacts.” He made a face. “But Melton seems to be telling the truth on all fronts. Bently did disappear two years ago, and everything you were told about him seems to check out. Model citizen, husband, and father. From all accounts he was a genuinely nice guy. Sheriff Bouvier is a respected law enforcement officer and did release the skeleton to Melton.”
“Skeleton?”
“Bouvier knew nothing about the skeleton disappearing. Melton promised him that he’d get an expert to quickly do a DNA test and then quietly return the remains to him. When I told Bouvier that there might be quite a few pieces missing, he was hopping mad. It’s his job on the line. When he calmed down, he said he’d contact the senator, and he was sure Melton would use his influence to have the skeleton found and returned to him. He was just brimful of excuses and praise for the senator. He’s solidly in Melton’s camp.”
“You sound disappointed that Melton’s story checked out.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“If we find out there’s a problem, I can always stop and go home.” But she didn’t want to go home. She didn’t intend to go back and face the very situation she’d run away from. She wanted to work until she dropped, and then work some more.
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to bolt out of here? I’ll call and see if I can get us tickets to Atlanta.”
“Us?”
“My job’s not finished. I stay with you until I’m sure there’s no more danger.”
“I’m not walking around for any extended length of time with a bodyguard, Galen.”
“Just until I’m sure. The airport?”
Eve thought about it. She wasn’t one to undervalue the power of instinct, but there was no firm reason to think she wouldn’t be able to finish this job safely. True, her food poisoning was worrying, but she was well guarded now by both Galen and the men she had seen about the grounds of the church this morning.
And she didn’t like the idea of someone killing a man like the one Galen had described and walking away from it without being punished. You couldn’t punish a crime without identifying a victim—and that was her job.
“Not until I’m sure that there’s a reason to go.” She turned back to the skull. “Now go away for a while. I need to get to work.”
“He’s pretty filthy.” Galen touched the mud on Victor’s forehead. “Funny-looking dirt, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “Dirt is dirt.”
“Are you going to be able to get it all off him?”
“The majority of it. I’m not going to try to get it out of all the cavities. I might cause more breakage.” She made a shooing motion. “Go. I want to get a start on cleaning up Victor before it’s time for you to take me to Marie’s funeral.”
“You’re still going?”
“Why shouldn’t I? One, it could have been an accident. Two, if it wasn’t, maybe someone else slipped something into the ingredients Marie brought to the house. If she’s innocent, then she was killed to keep her from talking, or to make my attack look more accidental. Not a pretty thought, is it?”
“Murder is even less pretty.” Galen smiled. “But you want to believe the best of Marie. So we’ll go to the funeral. It can’t hurt.”
After Galen left, Eve turned back to Victor and began to carefully scrape the dirt from his skull.
It’s funny dirt.
She paused and stared at it. It was strange-looking. Minute white chips seemed to be imbedded in rich black mud, making it appear lighter.
Forget it. Maybe all the dirt in Sheriff Bouvier’s parish was like this. If it wasn’t, then the police must have noticed it. It wasn’t her business. Just get it off and do your job.
Marie Letaux’s son, Pierre, was tall and good-looking and clearly devastated by his mother’s death. He was surrounded by friends and relatives when Eve approached him after the ceremony at the small church.
Eve held out her hand. “I’m Eve Duncan. I’d like to express my condolences. I didn’t know your mother well, but I may have been the last person to see her. Did she tell you that she was taking a job with me?”
Pierre nodded. “She was excited. She knew you were someone important.”
“Not really.”
“Mr. Tanzer said that you were famous. She liked the idea of working for a woman who’d made something of her life.” His eyes filled with tears. “Mama wanted to be famous. I didn’t tell her, but after I get out of medical school and set up practice I was going to set her up with her own restaurant. I should have told her.” His voice broke. “I wish I’d told her. It was going to be a surprise.”
“She knew you loved her. She was very proud of you.” Eve glanced at the flower-draped coffin, which had been placed in a gray hearse. “She wanted so much for you to finish your education.”
Pierre nodded jerkily. “She was always thinking of ways to help me. She called me the night before she died and told me not to worry, that she’d worked out a way to get the money for my tuition. That everything was going to be fine.”
“She did?”
He nodded, his gaze shifting to the coffin. “I’m sorry, I have to go now.”
“Of course. I hope everything goes well for you in the future.”
“I can’t think of anything but Mama now. It’s very difficult for me. I thought my heart would break when I was going through her things last night. So many memories . . .” He tried to smile. “But I go back to school tomorrow, and I’ll try very hard to make something of myself that would have made her proud. I thank you for your good wishes.” He turned and moved toward the hearse.
“Nice kid.” Galen had moved forward to stand beside her.
She watched the hearse move slowly through the cemetery toward the grave where Marie would be buried. “Yes.”
He took her elbow. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, her gaze still on the hearse. “Did you hear what he said about the call from his mother?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“You’ll make up your own mind. I hate to say I told you so.”
“It may not mean anything.” Her hands clenched into fists. “Dammit, I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t.”
“On the other hand, young Letaux may find a pleasant surprise when he opens her safety-deposit box.” Galen gently nudged Eve toward his car. “Now how about having lunch and a little tour of the city before I take you back to the house? I think you need to unwind.”
“Okay.” She took a final glance over her shoulder at the hearse, and Marie’s son, who was going to say his final good-bye to the mother he loved. And Marie had loved him, too.
Enough to do this terrible thing for his sake?
“Stop worrying,” Galen said. “Never ruin a good meal with bad thoughts. Tell me about your daughter, Jane. I heard she took over my nursing duty last year after I left Sarah Patrick’s cabin in Phoenix. Don’t deflate my ego by saying she did as good a job as I did.”
“Well, Sarah must have thought she did pretty well. Jane got a puppy out of it.”
“Do you consider that bad or good?”
Eve smiled. “It’s good. The puppy is pure Monty . . . I hope. I haven’t seen any signs of anything savage about Toby.”
“Too bad. I’ve never seen anything wrong with a little dash of the tiger. It makes the mix more interesting.”
“I don’t agree.”
“I believe you do. You chose Quinn.”
Yes, Joe had more than a little tiger in him, but she’d not seen it in the last year. She had seen nothing but love and companionship and togetherness. It had been magic. No, better than magic, because it had been honest and real.
At least she’d thought it had been honest.
She smothered the ripple of pain. Would she ever be able to think about Joe without that hurt? She changed the subject. “Where are we going to eat? Nothing heavy. My stomach still feels like it’s taken a beating from Evander Holyfield.”
The safety-deposit box.
Eve sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding. “Galen!”
“I hear you,” Galen called from the next room. He was there in seconds. “What’s wrong? Did you see any—”
“The safety-deposit box. I was asleep, but I woke up and it was—”
“Slow down. Get your breath.” He sat down on the bed beside her and set the revolver he’d carried on the nightstand. “A nightmare?”
“No. It must have been in the back of my mind and it—Marie’s safety-deposit box. You thought there was probably a bribe in it, and whoever poisoned me was trying to make sure to make it look like an accident. It was important to him not to draw attention to why it was being done.”
“And?”
“Pierre, her son. He was going back to New Orleans tomorrow morning. He wanted to be done with all these details. There’s a good chance he would have gone to the bank this afternoon and tried to tie up all her affairs. If there was a huge amount in that safety-deposit box, it would have sent up a red flag, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re thinking someone might want to stop him from reporting that money.”
Eve moistened her lips. “Oh, God, I hope not.” She got to her feet. “I want to go to see him. I’m getting dressed. Will you call Marie’s house and see if you can reach him?”
“Do you have the number?”
“No.”
“I’ll call information.” Galen reached for the phone on the nightstand and turned on the light.
She blinked. “You’re naked.”
“You screamed. I wasn’t about to take the time to get dressed.” He spoke into the phone and then glanced over his shoulder. “Get moving.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She hurried out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.
When she came back five minutes later, Galen was coming out of his room, tucking his shirt into his khakis. “Pierre didn’t answer.” He glanced at her. “Look, this may be a false alarm, but when we get there, I’m in charge. You don’t do anything until I tell you to do it. Okay?”
“I hear you. Just hurry.”
No one answered the knock.
“He could have decided to leave early,” Galen said. “Or perhaps staying here brought back too many memories.”
“I don’t like it,” Eve said. “Is the door locked?”
“Yes.” Galen bent over the knob for a moment. “But if it will make you feel better . . .” The door swung open. “I go in first. You stay out here until I call you. If you see anything, you call me.”
“I want to—” Eve nodded impatiently. “Hurry. If he’s not here, I need to track him down at a hotel.”
“I’ll hurry.” Galen disappeared into the house.
She didn’t want to wait outside. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the windows of the houses on either side of the street. Dark, silent.
Watching.
Foolishness. No one was watching.
“Come in.” Galen was back. “It’s safe.”
“Is he here?”
“He’s here.” He shut the door. “But you may not want to see him. He’s not a pretty sight. His head’s half blown off.”
Shock jolted through her. “What?”
“There at the desk across the room.”
The lights were off, but she could dimly see a figure slumped at the desk. “Pierre?”
“As far as I could tell.”
“Murdered.”
“It’s staged to look like a suicide. The gun’s still in his hand. He may have actually pulled the trigger.”
“Like Marie was forced to eat the stew,” she said dully.
“Right.”
“I want to see him.”
“You’re sure?”
“It won’t be the first corpse I’ve seen, Galen.”
“I know, but I have to fight my protective instincts.” He flicked on the lamp by the door. “Don’t touch anything.”
Blood and brain matter were splattered everywhere. She forced herself to walk forward until she stood in front of the desk. Several framed pictures of Pierre’s mother were spread on the desk in front of him. To one side lay a pile of letters spattered with blood.
“It looks”—she swallowed hard to ease the tightness of her throat—“as if he was going through her things.”
“And became despondent and took his own life. Everyone at the funeral would testify to how distraught he was. Very nicely staged. Or do you believe he’d actually do this?”
Eve shook her head. “He wanted to make all her hard work worthwhile. He wouldn’t—” She had to get out of here. She turned and headed for the door. “It wasn’t him—somebody else did this.”
“That’s what I thought.” Galen followed her, stopping only to wipe his prints off the lamp and the doorknob while she waited outside. “But the verdict will probably be suicide.”
She drew a deep shaky breath as she reached the street. “We could tell the police about Marie.”
“With no real evidence but those bruises? You didn’t want to believe Marie Letaux’s death wasn’t an accident.”
“I suppose he did go to the bank today,” she said dully.
“I doubt if he’d be dead if he hadn’t discovered the safety-deposit box with the money. He must have had time to look through it, or he wouldn’t have been a threat.”
“He was so young. . . .”
“Yeah, it sucks.” Galen took Eve’s elbow. “Let’s get out of here. If anyone sees us around, they might decide it wasn’t suicide and zero in on us as suspects. You might be above suspicion, but I’m not.”
“Sit down.” Galen pushed Eve into one of the kitchen chairs and put on the kettle. “I’ll make you some coffee.”