Authors: Erica Spindler
“Anton was taunting him.”
“About what?”
She shifted in her seat again, looking, Malone thought, decidedly uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”
“You were there, weren’t you?”
“Yes. But Anton had been drinking and he didn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t know what he was talking about.”
Malone glanced at Bayle. She had her gaze fixed on the monitor. He wondered if she too was thinking that Gallier was protecting Scott. But why?
He returned his attention to the interview in process. His brother was jogging her memory.
“According to witnesses, Ms. Gallier, your father-in-law challenged Scott to tell you ‘the real reason he joined up.’ Is that right?”
“I guess,” she said.
“Yes, he said that? Or no, he did not?”
“Okay, yes. He did say that. A couple times, actually.”
“And did Mr. Scott share the reason he joined the marines?”
“At that moment?”
“Then, before, or after? Has he shared it with you?”
She hesitated. “He told me it was a personal reason.”
“And he shared what that personal reason was?”
She hesitated again and Malone knew the answer: he had not.
“Yes or no?”
“No, he did not.”
“What’s he hiding from you?”
“Nothing. It’s not like that.”
“Really? Old friends like the two of you are, and you don’t know why he packed up and joined the military?”
She tilted up her chin. “Some things are intensely private, Detective. I get that. There’s a difference between hiding something and just not wanting to share it.”
“Is there?”
“Yes!” she cried and got to her feet. “And you know it! Stop playing with me.”
“Maybe I’m not the one who’s playing with you.”
The lawyer caught her arm and eased her back to her seat. Spencer saw that Gallier was shaking. “I think we’re done here,” the attorney said.
“One last thing, if you don’t mind. Mr. Gallier accused your friend Connor of being glad your husband was dead. Do you recall that?”
She nodded. “But it’s not true. Jeff and Connor were best friends.”
“Why do you think he said that?”
She lifted her gaze. Malone saw she was crying. “Because he was drunk. And bitter and angry and as mean as a snake. And because he couldn’t let go of Jeff. He couldn’t accept he was dead and move on.”
“What about you, Ms. Gallier? Have you been able to move on?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tuesday, August 16
7:10
P.M.
When the detectives released Mira from questioning, it took all her energy to stand, then put one foot in front of the other. She felt as if she had been hit by an SDT garbage truck. Hit and run smack over.
Garbage truck, she thought. That fit.
As if he sensed how close to collapsing she was, the lawyer kept a hand on her elbow. He steered her into the empty, waiting elevator car. He had been her stalwart champion through both Anton’s attempt at a criminal charge and the civil suit that followed. She trusted him completely.
“How much trouble am I in?” she asked.
“They’ve got nothing but suspicions. You had a motive, a compelling one. Of course they’re going to question you.”
A compelling motive. A public argument and a threat. She was surprised they hadn’t locked her up.
“I can’t believe this is happening. It’s such a nightmare.”
He patted her shoulder. “Anton Gallier had lots of enemies. They’ll find who did this.”
But what if they didn’t? she wondered. Would this continue to shadow her, the way her in-laws’ claims had? Would she ever again have a slate unclouded by suspicion?
The elevator stuttered to a stop. The doors slid open and they stepped off. “We should talk some more,” Lance said.
“I agree. But not now, okay?”
“The morning’s fine. I don’t think you’re in any danger of being arrested. Rest well tonight, we’ll talk then.”
“Thanks, Lance. And now, I hate to ask, but could you give me a lift home?”
“Mira!”
She turned. Chris was hurrying across the lobby toward her. Her eyes flooded with tears of gratitude.
She ran toward him and threw herself in his arms. She clung to him and he held her tightly. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”
“Deni had her evening class. We wanted to make sure you were okay.” He set her away from him so he could look her in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Define
okay
.” When alarm raced into his eyes, she nodded. “I’m fine.”
The lawyer came over. Mira introduced them. The men shook hands, then Lance turned to her. “You still need that lift home?”
She looked hopefully at Chris. As much as she appreciated Lance’s expertise, he was her attorney, not her friend. And at this moment, being with a friend was what she needed.
“How about I drive you?” Chris said. “I’d like to, really.”
A couple minutes later, Mira and Chris were climbing into his battered Ford pickup truck. After giving him directions, she sighed and rested her head against the seat back. The truck sputtered to life and she glanced in his direction. “How did you know I was here?”
“We heard about your father-in-law’s murder on TV. Deni couldn’t reach you on your cell or at home, so she figured the worst. To be certain, she called your lawyer’s office. When his secretary told her he was at police headquarters, we knew for sure.”
“My saviors.” She closed her eyes a moment, then looked at him again. “Thanks for coming for me.”
He met her gaze. “Of course I would, Mira.”
Something in his eyes felt deeper than friendship. She looked quickly away. “Deni’s a lucky girl.”
“She doesn’t always think so.”
“Really? I haven’t picked up on that. She seems happy.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s about my beliefs. See this ring? It’s a promise ring. I vowed to wait until marriage.”
She almost asked “For what?” then realized he meant remain celibate. She’d heard of the rings; they were in the news when the pop trio the Jonas Brothers started wearing them. But still, it ran so counter to popular thinking, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’ve surprised you.” She didn’t deny it and he went on. “She thinks it means I don’t want her. But I made a promise and I’ve lasted this long, I’m not going back on it now.”
“I admire you sticking to your convictions. Not many people do.”
He didn’t reply and she closed her eyes again. She found the rumble and hum of the pickup melodic. And calming.
The way she found Chris. Calming. Centered. Grounded for a young man his age. She opened her eyes and asked him about it.
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“It’s not a pretty story. I saw a lot of bad stuff growing up. Death was a way of life. I learned that early.”
“Where was that, Chris?”
“Edge of Gert Town, in Mid-City. Most of the guys I came up with got hooked up with gangs. And drugs. They’re all dead now.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged again. “I could have gone that way.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I grew up without a dad. Life was tough. My family depended on me.”
“I’d bet there’re a lot of gangbangers out there with the same story. Why’re you different?”
“Don’t know. Lucky? Blessed, maybe? It’s one of the reasons for the promise ring.”
It made sense, she thought. He’d saved his life by being different from the people around him.
He smiled at her. “What was your childhood like?”
“We didn’t have much. It was just my mom, sister and I. We worked hard, depended on one another. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”
“That’s the way I feel,” he said, sounding pleased. “Simple but beautiful. Katrina made me realize that even more. Made me aware of time and how precious—how important—every day is.”
Her eyes filled with tears. His expression puckered with regret. “Geez, Mira, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. Katrina made me realize the same thing. Life is short.” They fell silent once more. After a block, she said, “Frenchmen’s up ahead. You’ll take a left.”
When he’d done as she directed, she added, “Mine’s up on the right.”
As his truck rattled to a stop, Mrs. Latrobe’s side light snapped on.
“My neighbor’s a little cranky. I sometimes think she wishes I’d died with Jeff.”
As the words left her lips, she regretted them. “That sounded horrible. She’s old and lonely, I should cut her some slack.”
He climbed out of the truck. “Is that her?”
Mira looked over. Sure enough, there was Louise Latrobe at her window. Mira waved. The woman didn’t return the greeting, just continued to stare.
Give her the benefit of the doubt, Mira. Maybe she can’t see well enough to know you waved.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“That’s not necessary, Chris. Really.”
“Yes, it is. A gentleman makes sure a lady makes it safely inside.”
She smiled. Another anachronism. He was one surprising young man.
When they reached her front door, Mira heard Nola on the other side, snuffling and whining, anxious to see her. And, no doubt, to relieve herself.
Mira unlocked the door, then turned back to Chris. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much it meant to me that you were there.”
She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Tell Deni thanks, too. Tell her I love her and I’ll be in as soon as I can in the morning.”
“Sure.” He started off, then stopped. “Mira?”
She looked back in question. He seemed uncertain what he had wanted to say. After a moment, he said simply, “Sleep well.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, August 16
7:40
P.M.
Malone sat across from Connor Scott. The man looked at once on alert and completely relaxed, no easy feat. Malone figured it was the military training.
“I suppose you’re wondering why we called you in for questioning,” he began.
“Not really.” Scott moved his gaze between him and Bayle. “Anton Gallier was murdered and he and I had a skirmish three days ago. Seems reasonable you’d want to talk to me.”
Smart guy.
“Glad we’re on the same page. How well did you know Anton Gallier?” he asked.
“Fairly well.”
“How’s that?”
“I was best friends with his son, Jeff. We went to prep school together, then university. I spent a lot of time at Jeff’s house and he at mine.”
“What was your opinion of Mr. Gallier?”
“He was smart. A skilled businessman. A political animal of the highest order.”
“Meaning?”
“He knew how to get things done. Whose palm to grease to make things happen.”
“So you liked him?”
Scott laughed, the sound humorless. “Hell, no. He was a prick. Jeff thought so, too. He hated his old man.”
“That’s pretty strong.”
“It’s true.”
Malone let seconds of silence tick by, waiting for Scott to look away or shift uncomfortably in his seat, anything.
Scott didn’t react at all.
“Where were you this morning between six and ten?”
“Running.”
Malone arched his eyebrows. “The entire time?”
“No, from about six thirty to eight.”
“Where did you run?”
“St. Charles streetcar line, from my house to Carrollton and back.”
“Anybody see you?”
“I’m sure they did, Detective.”
Malone struggled to keep his frustration at bay. “Anyone you know?”
“Not that I recognized.”
“What did you do from eight to ten?”
“Returned home. Showered. Ate breakfast. Answered e-mail.”
“Did you interact with anyone there?”
“The household staff.”
Malone made a note, then looked back up at Scott. “Three days before Gallier’s murder you two got into it at the Crescent City Club?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“What would you call it?”
Scott shrugged. “One of those things. It happens.”
“And when ‘one of those things’ happens, does somebody end up dead?”
“One has nothing to do with the other. Obviously.”
“Maybe not so obvious, Mr. Scott.” Malone flipped through his notes, more for show than because he needed to refresh his memory. “Tell me, why were you at the Crescent City Club that day?”
Malone noticed the other man stiffen slightly. “To back Mira up.”
“Why would she have needed backing up?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“We already have. Now we want your version.”
“I was at her studio when she learned Anton had manipulated the Katrina documentary to make her look bad. She was going to call him out on it.”
“She was angry.”
“Do you blame her?”
“That’s a yes, then.”
“Yes, she was angry. She said she wasn’t going to let him beat her.”
“Did you take that as a threat against Mr. Gallier?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head, as if for emphasis. “I didn’t want her to face him alone.”
“Yet you arrived separately?”
“She refused my offer of help.”
“You followed her anyway. Why?”
“I thought she needed me.”
“You have a special relationship with Ms. Gallier, don’t you?”
“We’re friends. Old friends.”
“And that’s all?”
Malone noticed that for the first time, Scott shifted his gaze. “Yes.”
“What was happening when you arrived?”
“Anton was threatening her. I told him to stop.”
“Threatening? With bodily harm?”
Scott smiled grimly. “That wasn’t Anton’s way. His attack was more insidious.”
“How would you describe it?”
“Emotional and psychological torture. He was very good at it.”
“Then Gallier turned his attack on you, is that right?”
“He was drunk.”
“That wasn’t my question. He turned his attack on you.”
“Yes.”
Malone shuffled through his notes. “According to witnesses, Gallier accused you of ‘being glad’ Jeff was dead. What did he mean by that?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. You know.”
“Prove it.”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”