Читать книгу The Whispering Room - Amanda Stevens - Страница 11

The day was still, hot and hazy as Evangeline and Mitchell drove into the Garden District.

The streets in this glorious old neighborhood were lined with the gnarled branches of live oaks, and the lush, vivid yards—heavily painted with crepe myrtle, oleander and flaming hibiscus—provided a striking contrast to the gleaming white houses.

Underneath second-story verandas, ceiling fans rotated in the sluggish heat. Children played in the lawn sprinklers while gardeners dripping with sweat clipped hedges and weeded flower beds thick with petunias and geraniums.

This was a neighborhood steeped in history and quiet refinement; a lifestyle of summer garden parties, servants and drinks by the pool.

A world very different from the one Evangeline knew.

After leaving the crime scene earlier, she’d showered and changed her clothes, but the scent of Paul Courtland’s rotting flesh still clogged her nostrils as she pulled the car to the curb in front of his house.

She leaned her arms against the steering wheel and stared out the window at the house, dreading the moment when she would have to climb out of the car, walk up to the house and ring the bell.

Mrs. Courtland? I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.

Evie? I hate like hell to be the one to have to tell you this.

“Evie?”

For a moment, Mitchell’s voice seemed so much a part of her memory, Evangeline forgot he was in the car with her. She turned and glanced at him. “Yeah?”

“You ready to do this?”

“Can I just go have a root canal instead? Or maybe get some surgery done without anesthesia?”

“’Fraid not. Comes with the territory. Could be worse, though,” he added, and Evangeline knew that he was thinking about the night Johnny died, too.

Silently, they got out of the car and started up the walkway together.

The Courtland home was a three-story Greek revival with wide Doric columns in the front and a walled garden in the back. Baskets of trailing ferns hung from the balconies, and the carefully tended flower beds exploded with color.

The sound of splashing water and laughter drifted over the garden walls, and as Evangeline walked up the front steps, she heard a child singing in the back, a happy, inane tune that tugged at her heart and made her wish she was anywhere in the world but where she was—standing at a dead man’s front door.

A middle-aged woman with short gray hair answered the door straightaway. She wore brown slacks and a blue, nondescript top that she tugged down over her rounded hips. “Yes?”

“We’re NOPD,” Mitchell said as he hauled out his wallet and showed her his ID. “Are you Mrs. Courtland? Mrs. Paul Courtland?”

“No, I’m the Courtlands’ nanny.” Her hazel eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Is there some trouble, Officer?”

“It’s Detective. And, yes, I’m afraid there’s been some trouble. Is Mrs. Courtland home?”

“She’s out by the pool with her daughter. Hold on a second and I’ll get her for you.”

Instead of inviting them in, she closed the door in their faces.

Mitchell gave a nonchalant shrug. “Lots of riffraff in the city these days. Can’t be too careful.”

“You do look a bit dodgy. Where’d you get that shirt?”

“Salvation Army,” he said. “A buck twenty-five.”

They waited in silence until the door was drawn back again a few minutes later. The woman who stood on the other side this time was a thirtysomething blonde wearing a green-and-gold bikini top with a matching sarong fastened at the top of one hip. She was tan and lean with the kind of soft beauty and quiet elegance women of her social station seemed to acquire naturally.

Her full lips glinted with pale peach lip gloss and when she propped a hand on the door, Evangeline saw the same shade of shimmer on her nails. Fine-tuned was the first description that came to mind. Pampered was the second.

“I’m Meredith Courtland,” she said as her cool gaze skipped from Evangeline to Mitchell and then darted past them to the unmarked car at the curb. “How may I help you?”

“I’m Detective Hebert, this is my partner, Detective Theroux.” They both presented their IDs. “Ma’am, I’m afraid we have some bad news for you.”

“Bad news?” She stared at them blankly, as if such a concept were unheard of in her comfortable, insulated world. “Is this about the accident?”

Mitchell glanced at Evangeline. “What accident would that be, ma’am?”

“The fender bender I had in the Quarter yesterday. I left all my information with the other driver, and I’ve already contacted my insurance company. I don’t know why he felt the need to get the police involved.” She looked mildly annoyed as she ran her manicured nails through the precisely clipped strands of her blond bob.

“We’re not here about a car accident,” Evangeline said. “This is regarding your husband.”

“Paul? What about him?” She must have glimpsed something in their faces then because her annoyance vanished, and for a moment, her blue eyes looked as if they were drowning. “Is he…” She drew a quick breath and seemed to dismiss the possibility of any real unpleasantness. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“No, ma’am, he’s not.” Evangeline tried to keep her voice neutral, without letting the pity she felt for the woman creep in. “If it’s okay, we’d like to come in and talk to you for a few minutes.”

For the longest time, Meredith Courtland didn’t say a word, just stood there clutching the door while, in spite of her best efforts to cling to denial, her world started to crumble around her.

Evangeline’s heart ached for her. She knew only too well what it was like to be on the other side of that door. To feel so overwhelmed by the news that you forgot how to breathe. You could hear someone talking to you. You could even make out their words. But what they said made no sense. Nothing made sense. How could the husband you’d kissed goodbye that morning, the man you loved more than life itself, be dead?

How, all of a sudden, could the life you’d shared with him be nothing more than a memory?

Evangeline could feel the burn in her eyes of a thousand unshed tears and she had to glance away for a moment. Sometimes even now a future without Johnny seemed too much to bear.

Meredith Courtland stepped back from the door. “Please come in,” she said shakily.

They stepped into a cool, terrazzo entryway with gilded mirrors and tall vases of pink and white roses. Sunshine spilled in from a domed skylight and dazzled the crystals of a huge chandelier. A floating staircase swept gracefully up to a second-story gallery, where a black maid temporarily appeared at the railing before vanishing back into the shadows.

Meredith Courtland’s gold sandals clicked against the marble floor as she led them down a wide hallway that opened into a large living area decorated with an eclectic mix of modern and antique furnishings.

A wall of French doors opened into the garden, a sun-dappled paradise of banana trees, palms and scarlet bougainvillea cascading over the stucco walls. Just beyond a white gazebo, Evangeline could see the sparkle of turquoise water in a kidney-shaped pool.

Indeed, a world very different from her own.

A little girl in a blue polka-dot swimsuit sat on the floor in front of the windows. She had a feather duster in one hand that she used to tease a tiny black-and-white kitten. When the adults entered the room, the child tossed aside the duster and got to her feet.

“Hello,” she said, with a smile that showcased a perfectly matched set of dimples. She looked to be about four, with gold ringlets and tanned, chubby little legs. “Do you want to see my kitten?” She picked up the tiny cat and clutched it to her chest. “His name is Domino.”

“That’s a good name for a black-and-white kitten,” Evangeline said, captivated by the little girl’s charm.

“Daddy wanted me to name him Bandit, on account of his mask. See?” She held up the kitten so they could admire the black markings on his face. “I like Domino better. Daddy’s just an old silly billy anyway. Right, Mama?”

Meredith Courtland stared at her daughter in stricken silence. When the nanny appeared in the doorway, she said on a quivering breath, “Colette, would you please take Maisie back out to the pool? I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Can Domino come, too, Mama? Please? Pretty please with sugar on top,” the little girl pleaded.

Meredith Courtland pressed a hand to her breast. “No, sweetie, cats don’t like the water. Domino can stay in the kitchen while you swim.”

“Can I give him a treat?”

“Just one.”

The child grinned impishly at Evangeline as she skipped out of the room behind the nanny.

“Please, have a seat,” Meredith said, indicating a white sofa behind a mahogany coffee table inlaid with chips of colored glass. As she sat down in a chair opposite the sofa, the gossamer fabric of the sarong floated gracefully around her slim legs.

Her posture was very straight, the lines of her face carefully composed. Except for the tears glistening on her lashes, Meredith Courtland looked rigid and emotionless.

She doesn’t dare let herself feel anything, Evangeline thought. Not yet. Not until she’s alone. And then the pleasant ennui of her once-cosseted existence would pass into memory with the dawning of a stark, cold reality.

She would awaken in the morning, mind swept clean by sleep, and turn, see the empty side of the bed and it would hit her again, that terrible sense of loss. That bottomless pit of despair.

“Paul’s dead, isn’t he?” Her voice was flat with acceptance, but there was a glimmer of something that might have been hope in her eyes.

Evangeline dashed that hope with one word. “Yes.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “When?”

“His body was found this morning in an abandoned house in the Lower Ninth Ward. We think he’d been dead for a few days.”

“A few days? Dear God…” Meredith Courtland’s neck muscles jumped convulsively as she swallowed. “How did it happen?”

“We won’t know the exact cause of death until after the autopsy. But we have reason to believe your husband was the victim of foul play.”

She gave a visible start. “You’re saying…he was murdered?”

“I’m very sorry,” Evangeline said softly.

“But…” Her expression went blank again. “That’s not possible. It’s just not.”

Murder happened to other people.

“Is there someone you’d like us to call? Family or friends you’d like to have come and stay with you right now?” Evangeline asked.

“Stay with me? I don’t know….” She couldn’t seem to form a clear thought. She skimmed her fingers down one arm. “Colette and my daughter are here….” She closed her eyes briefly. “Oh, God. How am I going to tell Maisie? She adores Paul….”

Her voice cracked and her bottom lip trembled as she lost the struggle for self-control. “God,” she whispered on a sob and put her hands to her face as if she could somehow forcibly stem the tide of raw emotion that bubbled up her throat and spilled over from her eyes.

Evangeline fumbled for a tissue in her purse and handed it across the coffee table to the crying woman. Meredith Courtland took it gratefully and after a moment, she dabbed at her eyes as she turned to look out the French doors at her daughter.

In the ensuing silence, every sound in the house seemed magnified. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. The soft humming of the maid upstairs.

And into that awful silence came the high-pitched laughter of Paul Courtland’s little girl as she splashed happily in the shallow end of the pool.

Meredith drew a deep, shuddering breath and folded the tissue into a neat little square on one thigh. But her eyes never left her child.

“I wondered if something was wrong when he didn’t come by for Maisie on Sunday,” she finally said. “They always spend the afternoon together, and he never missed a single Sunday. Never. He loved being with her. He was a wonderful father.” She paused to unfold the tissue as painstakingly as she had creased it. “A lousy husband, but a great father.”

Evangeline and Mitchell shared a look.

“You and Mr. Courtland were divorced, then?” Mitchell asked carefully.

“Separated. He moved out a few months ago. He has a place in the Warehouse District. A loft.” Her head was still turned away, but there was no mistaking the bitter, derisive edge to her tone. She may as well have informed them he’d moved into a whorehouse for all the scorn that dripped from her voice. “I guess the Garden District just wasn’t a cool or hip enough address for him anymore.”

Evangeline and Mitchell exchanged another glance. Mitchell’s nod was almost imperceptible.

“Do you have his current address?” Evangeline asked.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. It’s just off Notre Dame, I think. I don’t know the street number. I’ve never been over there. When I needed to get in touch with him, I called his cell phone or the office.”

She was still watching her daughter, and Evangeline studied her profile. There was a lot of anger beneath that cool surface. Was Meredith Courtland the kind of woman who would retaliate against a husband who had rejected her and her lifestyle?

It was hard to imagine, especially considering the way Paul Courtland had died. But then, Evangeline had seen a lot of things that were hard to imagine.

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Sunday before last. He came over early so that he could take Maisie to a movie she’d been begging to see. They had dinner afterward and then he brought her home.”

“You had no contact with him after that? Not even a phone conversation?”

She shook her head. “We rarely talked on the phone once he moved out. And we only saw each other when he came by for Maisie. But as I said, I did think it strange when he didn’t show up for her on Sunday last. I called his office the next day, but Lisa, his assistant, said he’d taken a few days off. I just assumed he’d gone out of town and forgotten to tell me. That wasn’t like him, but then…a lot of things he’d done in the past several months weren’t like him.”

“Such as?”

She gestured helplessly. “Moving out. Leaving his family. A year ago, I could never have imagined we’d be separated. Let alone…” She shook her head. “This all just seems like a bad dream.”

Evangeline gave her a moment. “How did he seem the last time you saw him?”

She turned with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“His demeanor. His mood. Did you notice anything about him that was out of the ordinary? Did he seem worried or anxious? Anything at all that you can remember?”

“Not really. He may have been a little preoccupied, but that wasn’t unusual for Paul. He had a case that was about to go to trial, and he always got a little strung out before going into court.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. Her nails had completely shredded the tissue. “I just don’t understand,” she whispered. “Who would want to kill him?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“I’ve been sitting here going over it in my mind. None of what you’ve told me makes any sense. You said his body was found in the Lower Ninth Ward. Why would Paul go there? Everyone knows how dangerous that area is. I can’t imagine that he would have a client in that part of town. Maybe…Is it possible this could be just some terrible mistake?” she asked in a hopeful voice, but her hands were balled into fists, and when she looked up, the pain in her eyes struck Evangeline anew.

My God, she thought. Is that how I looked?

Evangeline didn’t have to try to put herself in the distraught woman’s place. She’d been there herself. She knew exactly how Meredith Courtland felt.

Except she and Johnny had still been together at the time of his death. He had remained, until the very end, the love of her life.

“Identification was found on the body,” she said. “It’s highly unlikely there’s been a mistake.”

“But…” Meredith’s voice trailed off, as if she finally realized the futility of false hope.

“I know this has been a terrible shock for you, and I’m so sorry we have to burden you with all these questions at a time like this,” Evangeline said. “But the sooner we get them out of the way, the sooner we’ll be able to figure out what happened.”

Meredith nodded. Her blue eyes were brimming again. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Paul and I had our differences, but he was…I still cared about him.” The latter she said with a catch in her throat. “I want you to find who did this. I want you to make them pay,” she said fiercely.

Outside the French doors, Maisie Courtland began to sing again, off-key and at the top of her lungs. She was a beautiful, happy child whose life, from this day forward, would never be the same.

J.D. had been born after Johnny’s death. Evangeline’s son had never even seen his father, never had the chance to know him, but maybe it was better that way.

Maybe you can’t miss what you’ve never had.

“Mrs. Courtland…” Mitchell leaned forward, his gaze searching the woman’s face. “Did your husband ever receive any threats?”

“What kind of threats?”

“Guys in prison have a tendency to blame their lawyers,” he explained. “Did your husband ever have any problems with disgruntled clients?”

“Not that I know of. But…even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have mentioned them to me. Paul was…He used to be very protective.” She swallowed and glanced away.

“What about his coworkers? Did he get along with the other attorneys at his firm?”

“Paul was the rainmaker. Everyone loved him.”

Now it was Evangeline who leaned forward, her gaze scouring Meredith Courtland’s smooth, tanned face. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted your husband dead?”

She blinked, as if confused by the directness of the question, and then her expression hardened. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think I had something to do with this. The spouse is always the prime suspect. Especially when there’s an impending divorce.”

“Right now, all we’re trying to do is come up with a lead. If you can think of anything, anything at all that might give us something to go on, we would certainly be grateful for your cooperation.”

“My God, if I knew anything, don’t you think I would tell you? He was my husband. My child’s father!”

Her anger was so quick, the flash of fire in her eyes so genuine, that her reaction told Evangeline more about the woman than an hour’s worth of questions would have yielded. Despite the bitter separation, Meredith Courtland had still been very much in love with her husband.

Her eyes shifted away, as if she were embarrassed by how much her outburst had revealed.

“What can you tell us about Paul’s relationship with Sonny Betts?”

Meredith jerked up her head and she looked at Evangeline with a mixture of fear and revulsion. “They certainly weren’t friends. It was a professional relationship only. Paul believed everyone was entitled to the best defense possible. Even slime like Sonny Betts.”

“Did you ever meet Betts?”

“Once at Paul’s office.” She shuddered. “He was not someone I would ever have in my home. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when he and Paul parted ways.”

“When was this?”

“Right after the trial.”

“Did they have a falling-out?”

“All Paul ever said about it was that his services were no longer required.”

“The split was amicable, then.”

“I guess so….” She looked doubtful all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

She bit her lip as she glanced out the window, collecting her thoughts. “I don’t know if it means anything…I’d forgotten all about it until now….”

“That’s okay. The more you can tell us, the better chance we’ll have of finding who did this,” Evangeline persisted.

“It was a few days after the verdict came back.” Meredith placed the shredded tissue on her thigh and absently smoothed out the wrinkles. “Paul had scheduled some time off from work so that we could go to a friend’s place in the Bahamas. Then all of a sudden, he said he couldn’t get away. Something had come up at work, but he wanted Maisie and me to go on without him. I didn’t really want to…we hadn’t had a family vacation in ages. But he was so insistent, almost as if he were trying to get us out of town.” She paused. “Which I suppose he was and I was just too naive to see the signs.”

“So you decided to go on the trip without him?” Evangeline prompted.

“Yes, after some arguing. The night before we were to leave, I finished packing and went to bed early. I’d just dozed off when I heard voices downstairs. Loud voices. I thought Paul must have fallen asleep in front of the television, but when I came downstairs, I saw two men with him in his study. Which struck me as odd because it was after midnight. We never had visitors that late.”

“Did you recognize the men?”

“I’d never seen them before in my life.”

“You said you heard loud voices. Were these men arguing with Paul?”

“It appeared so. Paul was clearly angry. He kept telling them that he’d done what they asked, and now that the trial was over, he wanted out.”

“Did you know what he was talking about?”

“I didn’t have a clue. But the way he kept pacing back and forth…the look in his eyes…” She took another breath. “He wasn’t just angry. He looked scared. I remember he said something about a cop. ‘I don’t want to end up like that dead cop.’ Or words to that effect.”

A wave of shock rolled through Evangeline. Her face felt frozen, and for the longest moment, she didn’t trust herself to speak.

Beside her, Mitchell shifted forward on the sofa. “Do you know who he was talking about?”

“No idea.”

“Did you ask him about the conversation?”

“Of course I did. As soon as the men left. The way he was behaving…it frightened me. I don’t know why, but I had a feeling that those two men were also some kind of cops or agents, and they were trying to get Paul to do something he didn’t want to do. Something dangerous. When I confronted him, he said it was nothing to worry about. Just a misunderstanding about a case.”

“You believed him?”

She sighed. “I didn’t have any reason not to. Then.”

Evangeline hesitated for a split second to make sure nothing in her voice betrayed her agitation. “Did you ask him specifically about the dead cop?”

“Yes, but he said he was just being melodramatic. Trying to make a point. Paul could be very theatrical when he needed to be. That’s why he was such an effective trial lawyer.”

“He didn’t mention the cop’s name?”

Something in Evangeline’s voice caught Meredith’s attention. She gave her a thoughtful look. “Not that I remember.”

“What about the two men? Did he call either of them by name? Or a title? Detective So-and-So, for instance. Or maybe Agent So-and-So?”

“I don’t believe so, no. But as I said, I’d forgotten about the incident until now. Maisie and I left for the Bahamas the next day, and when we got back, Paul had already moved out. He told me the marriage hadn’t been working for him for a very long time.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “Just like that, our marriage was over. And I thought everything was so good between us. We had arguments, of course, like every married couple, but for the most part…” Her voice thickened. “I guess that’s why they say the wife is always the last to know.” Her tears spilled over and Evangeline handed her another tissue. “I’m sorry. This is bringing back a lot of painful memories.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Evangeline fished a card from her purse and laid it on the coffee table. “Here’s my number if you think of anything else. My cell number is on the back. Call anytime, day or night.”

“In the meantime, we’ll need someone to come to the morgue to ID the body,” Mitchell informed her.

“But…you said identification was found on the body.”

Hope springs eternal, Evangeline thought wearily. “A positive ID is just routine procedure. If you’re not up to it, we can talk to another family member.”

Meredith winced at the suggestion. “Oh, no, please don’t call his mother. Not until I’ve had a chance to break it to her first. This is going to kill her.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just…it hasn’t even been a year since she lost her other son. Paul’s younger brother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Evangeline said.

“It was such a horrible accident and poor Leona…she’s never gotten over it. None of us have. I still have nightmares about it.”

“What kind of accident was it?” Mitchell asked.

“Paul’s family has a fishing cabin on the bayou near Houma. David took the boat out alone one day last summer and he must have hit something in the water. The boat overturned and he was…” She trailed off on a violent shudder.

“He drowned?”

She shook her head and put a hand to her throat. “It was like one of those terrible things you hear about but don’t really believe. An urban legend or something. The water where David fell in was infested with water moccasins. He was bitten over a dozen times before he could swim to the bank.”