Читать книгу New Orleans Noir - Joanna Wayne - Страница 16

Helena stared him down like he was a coiled snake about to strike, waiting so long to respond he felt sweat pooling on his brow. She clearly had the temperature advantage in her white shorts and lacy, summery top.

He was wearing his usual plainclothes detective attire—jeans and a sports shirt with the neck unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Nonetheless, he was starting to feel guilty as hell that he was ruining her homecoming by insisting she have anything to do with him.

He stepped closer. “This won’t take long.”

“Then start talking.”

“I talk faster when I’m not sweltering.”

“Does this have anything to do with Elizabeth Grayson’s killer?”

He nodded. “Afraid so.”

“In that case, we can talk inside.”

He followed her into the carriage house. In minutes he’d settled into the same comfortable chair in Mia Cosworth’s cozy sitting room as he had dozens of times before over the last few months. Surprisingly, he’d developed a close bond with Mia during this investigation though she’d clearly never forgiven him for running out on Helena. Made sense. He’d never forgiven himself.

Not only had Mia’s death hit Hunter hard personally, it had blown a huge hole in his best lead toward catching the French Kiss Killer.

Helena sat across from him. She leaned back and crossed her long shapely legs.

She was as stunning as ever, but she’d changed in ways that hurt deep in his soul. He felt it as much as saw it, though her expression was stony, her eyes a cold fire that froze and burned at the same time.

“Why were you at Ella Grayson’s this morning?” Helena asked.

Hunter crossed a foot over his knee. “I’d picked up some beignets at Café du Monde, and we shared them over coffee. She loves them heavy on powdered sugar—same as me—and she makes the best cup of coffee in town.”

“I suppose I’m to believe delivering morning pastries to the elderly is a new service of the police department?”

Helena was clearly not going to make this easy.

“No official policy,” he said, “but we’re allowed to be decent.”

Helena ran her fingers through her shoulder-length copper-colored hair, pushing it back from her bewitching face. “In that case, I apologize for doubting your motives.”

“No problem. I’m not above playing good cop to get information if I need to, but this time it was all about the donuts and coffee. And the fact that she’s having a tough go of it.”

He recognized the signs of depression. He’d grown up with them.

“I plan to see her as soon as you leave,” Helena said. “We’ve kept in touch by phone since my grandmother died.”

“She’s mentioned that.”

“I don’t know why,” Helena said, “but she seems to feel at least partly responsible for the tragedy, though there was nothing she could have done to save Elizabeth. I keep reminding her that Elizabeth was a random victim of a demented serial killer.”

Hunter leaned in closer. This was likely as good a segue as he would get. Might as well take advantage of it.

“We’re not sure about the random element.”

Helena’s brows arched. “Wasn’t she abducted while on her way to meet friends?”

“Perhaps not. She’d told Ella that she was meeting friends, but her friends said the night out was planned for the following night. Elizabeth either confused the plans or lied to Ella.”

“Do you think she deliberately met with the monster?”

“A definite possibility.”

Helena clasped her hands in her lap. “Why would she do such a thing? How could he persuade her to go with him?”

“If we had the answer to those questions, we’d have a lot better chance of stopping him before he strikes again.”

“Then you think he will strike again?”

“I believe it’s possible.”

“I can’t believe Elizabeth could be taken in by a murderous lunatic. She was so smart and sweet. She had plans and dreams. Mia said she talked about her future all the time.”

Helena’s voice shook and her eyes grew moist with tears as the new reality sank in.

Desire racked Hunter’s body. Not sexual urges, but just a need to touch her, to wrap an arm around her shoulders, to hold her close.

But she made no move to indicate she wanted his comfort and he wasn’t about to risk being tossed out at this point.

“Is there more I should know?” Helena asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “None of it good.”

“Tell me everything and start with the worst,” she urged. “Don’t spoon-feed me.”

“You got it. Elizabeth’s killer or a person claiming to be him was in touch with Mia by phone in the days preceding Mia’s fall.”

“The killer was contacting Mia? Why didn’t I know about that? Why didn’t someone tell me?” She straightened, her hands on her knees.

“She didn’t want to upset you or disrupt your life when there was nothing you could do.”

“I could have done something. I could have been here. She could have come and stayed with me. You should have told me.” She leaned forward, and he saw fire in her eyes.

“She didn’t want you to know. I had no authority to go against her will.” Plus, she’d threatened Hunter eight ways to Sunday if he ignored her wishes and told Helena himself.

“How many times did he call her?”

“Three, over a three-week period.”

“What did he talk about? Did he threaten her? Didn’t you wiretap her phone?”

“How about one question at a time?” Hunter asked. “He admitted he’d killed Elizabeth.” He wasn’t about to go into the graphic way he described it to Mia in his first call. He hoped to hell Helena never had to hear those words and was relieved they hadn’t been recorded, which would risk her hearing them.

“Did he threaten Mia?”

“No, but he was clearly upset that she was raising award money for his capture and assured her that he would kill again and that he wouldn’t get caught.”

“You must have traced the calls and found out who he was and where he was calling from. You can do that in minutes.”

“You’ve been watching too many detective shows on TV. Real cops don’t work miracles. We did wiretap her phone—after she reported the first call. When she answered the next two, the calls went straight to the precinct where they were monitored.”

“Then why couldn’t you track him?”

“The calls were from different numbers. The wiretapped calls lasted less than a minute. By the time we could get to the location of origination, the caller and the phones were long gone.”

“And Mia didn’t recognize the caller’s voice?”

“No. Three different voices were used—two appeared to be male, one was female.”

“Then three different people were in on this?”

“Very unlikely. We believe a professional grade voice changer was used.”

“Where is my grandmother’s phone now?”

“In police custody. It hasn’t rung since her death.”

“Then he must have known her well enough to know when she died,” Helena said.

“Maybe, but it made the local news. Your grandmother was pretty much a legend in this area what with all her charitable and historic preservation work.”

Helena massaged her arms as if she were cold, the facts no doubt chilling her to the bone.

“I know this is not what you wanted to hear, Helena, but rest assured we’ll apprehend this guy sooner or later. He’ll make a mistake. Serial killers always do. And when he does, we’ll get him.”

“But how many other teens or young women will he kill before he makes that mistake?” Helena asked.

“I can’t answer that.” And that was what kept him up at night, what haunted his mind every hour of the day. That kind of evil had to come from devils residing deep in a person’s psyche. Even the killer might not know when he’d succumb to the darkness and strike again.

“Had Mia not died the untimely way she did, she might have led us to Elizabeth’s killer,” Hunter said.

“Poor Mia. So much to deal with. How horrible to spend the last few weeks of her life being intimidated by a madman who must have wanted her dead. Wanted it bad enough...”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hunter interrupted. The haunted look in her eyes and the angst in her expression made it clear. “Mia wasn’t murdered by the serial killer or anyone else, Helena. That possibility was thoroughly investigated. There was absolutely no evidence of foul play. Absolutely none.”

“Thank God for that.”

“If it was the killer’s intent to intimidate her, he failed miserably,” Hunter said. “Your grandmother considered herself part of the investigative team and she was good at it.”

“She was always a fighter,” Helena said.

Hunter planted both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “I have one very important request. I don’t want you to discuss the phone calls with anyone. Not your best friend. Not Ella. Definitely not a reporter.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he had to warn her. “There’s an outside chance the killer may try to contact you now that you’ve returned to the carriage house.”

“What makes you think he even knows I exist?”

“He mentioned you in the last call.”

“What did he say about me?”

“Just that she had a beautiful granddaughter. He hoped you’d be visiting soon.”

“And obviously, I did. For Mia’s funeral, almost as if he knew Mia was going to die.”

“There’s no way he could have predicted the fatal fall. The important thing is that I need you to call me immediately if you get a suspicious phone call or if anything happens that makes you uneasy,” Hunter warned. “Even if you think it’s probably nothing—even if the person who makes you uneasy is someone you know.”

“Right now, you’re making me extremely uneasy.”

“Don’t be. I’ll keep you safe. I promise, but you have to trust me and never hesitate to call me.”

“What great timing I have, as if I’m part of the killer’s welcoming committee.”

“If I’d known you were coming this week, I would have suggested you put the trip off.”

“It never dawned on me to check a serial killer calendar.”

“Understandable.” Hunter walked over, took her hand and pressed his card into her palm. Even that slight touch stirred the old vibes. He struggled to keep them under control.

“Put my cell phone number in your phone on speed dial. Call anytime, day or night. I’ll always answer. Count on it.”

She took the card, but quickly moved her hand away from his. “If that’s all, you should go now. I’m sure you have more important work to do.”

“Okay. Just remember, if you need me, I’m a phone call away and I can have a police officer here in seconds.”

She walked him to the door and opened it.

“You always were a good cop, Hunter, even if you didn’t know it. I’m glad you took it up again. You must have missed it.”

“I missed a lot of things.” Nothing as much as he’d missed her.

For a second, her gaze softened to velvet and he could almost swear he sensed a tinge of desire. But the moment passed, and she closed the door behind him.

She didn’t want him around. He got that, but he had only two goals right now. To find the French Kiss Killer before he killed again and to keep Helena safe.

He planned to do both.

* * *

LEANING AGAINST THE closed door, Helena struggled to make sense of the disturbing emotions churning inside her. She felt like a cannonball had smashed into the house and ran over her, leaving her flattened and unable to react in any appropriate way.

Her first impulse had been to lash out at Hunter and blame him for Mia’s having to deal repeatedly with a killer. He was the detective. He should have done more to find the killer or at least kept him from talking to Mia.

If nothing else, he should have at least called Helena and let her know about the phone calls.

Only her grandmother wasn’t one to be ordered around by anyone—never had been. Instead of quivering in fear, she’d likely dived in just like Hunter said, knowing full well what she was doing and any risks she might be taking.

She was sixty-eight years old, but Mia had known no limits, accepted no boundaries. Helena would be lucky if she had half Mia’s spunk at that same age.

Helena looked at the card Hunter had given her and realized she’d wadded it up in a clutched fist. She took it to the kitchen counter, laid it out flat and used her fingertips to iron out the wrinkles.

Call him if she needed him. She quaked at the thought.

Retrieving his last words from six years ago out of the depths of her memory, she used them like a suit of armor.

I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know, but I can’t go through with this.

And then he’d left her standing at the flower-bedecked altar like the fool she’d been. The fool she would never let herself be again.

Her phone rang. A quick surge of apprehension rocked through her.

“Hello.”

“Helena, it’s me, Ella. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Absolutely not. It’s so good to hear from you. In fact, I was hoping to pay you a visit about eleven if that works for you.”

“That would be great. We have so much to talk about now that you’re moving back to New Orleans.”

There was that bothersome misconception again. She’d clear that up when she saw Ella. The way things were going now, she couldn’t get out of here fast enough. She slipped Hunter’s card into her pocket.

* * *

ELLA MET HELENA at the door, greeting her with a bear hug that wouldn’t quit. The clinging was an unnecessary but potent reminder of the angst Ella had been through over the last six months. When Ella finally pulled away, Helena took a good look at her and was shocked to see how much thinner and frail she’d become over the five weeks since Mia’s death. The downward plunge in her health had begun months prior to that. Losing her best friend had only made it worse.

Before Elizabeth’s murder, Ella had been so plump that her apron ties were barely long enough to make a bow in the back. Her cheeks had been fat and rosy, her hair smooth with a fair amount of brown.

Now, her flowered top practically fell off her shoulders and her blue, flour-stained apron was tied in a big bow. New wrinkles tugged at her mouth and puffy, dark flesh circled her eyes. Her hair was almost totally gray with frayed ends that barely reached the middle of her ears.

Selling the house and property might turn out to be a wash on this trip, but at least Helena could spend some quality time with Ella before she left for Boston.

Helena breathed in the odor of spices wafting from the kitchen. “What is that I smell?”

“Peach cobbler.”

“My favorite,” Helena said. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget? Mia and I spent one whole day a few summers ago gathering peaches at a local pick-your-own orchard. Day was hotter than Lucifer’s spa, but she refused to quit until she had enough of the juicy fruit to fill her freezer.”

“I take it you did not handpick these peaches.”

“Sure I did. Picked them right from the baskets at the French Market when they were at their peak. Then I sliced and froze them.”

They both laughed, and it was amazing how much that softened the hard lines in Ella’s face. She probably didn’t laugh nearly enough.

“I didn’t just make cobbler,” Ella said. “I made some homemade shrimp salad. And I have fresh French baguettes to spread it on.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.”

“Wasn’t that much trouble. Besides I figured we’d have a lot more time and privacy for talking if we ate here. You know how noisy some of the lunch spots can be.”

“Especially the ones worth going to where the seafood gumbo is hot and spicy and the po’boys drip all down your shirt.”

“Well, when you put it that way, maybe we should have gone out,” Ella said.

“Another day,” Helena said. “Shrimp salad sandwiches, peach cobbler and being here with you in your comfy, air-conditioned apartment can’t be beat.”

Ella led the way to her second-floor kitchen.

All of the units were more or less what Helena considered upside down. Kitchen and dining areas and a spare room with floor to ceiling windows were on the second floor. Ella used her extra room for a guest room.

A large family area with a fireplace was on the first floor of every apartment as was a very spacious bedroom suite. All the apartments were entered through the courtyard. All had second-floor balconies and an ambiance that reeked of history and comfort.

Ella pointed to a bottle of white wine on the counter. “Would you mind opening the wine? I splurged on a bottle of Mia’s favorite chardonnay and I’ve been saving it to celebrate your homecoming.”

“Sounds great.”

“I chilled it before you got here. Wineglasses are on the table.”

They stuck to small talk until they’d settled at the dining nook that overlooked the myriad of greenery and blossoms trailing over the iron balcony.

They devoured the sandwiches and were halfway through bowls of warm cobbler topped with ice cream before the conversation took a nosedive.

“I saw you talking to Hunter Bergeron in the courtyard when he left here this morning,” Ella said. “I’m glad to see the two of you are cordial again. Mia would be, too. I’m not sure she ever quite forgave him for backing out of the wedding, but she was convinced he was going to be the one to apprehend Elizabeth’s killer.”

First Alyssa and now Ella. It was as if Hunter had his own cheering squad. She had no intention of becoming one of his groupies.

“I hope he’s successful in getting the killer off the streets,” Helena said, “but I don’t see the two of us becoming friends.”

“Sorry. It was probably thoughtless of me to bring him up. I don’t blame you for the bad feelings. It’s just that you’ve both done a lot of growing up since then. I think you’d like him if you’d give him a chance.”

“From what I hear, Hunter has plenty of friends.”

“Mostly other detectives. He’s asked about you several times,” Ella added before letting the subject drop.

Helena was not about to get drawn into talk of what Hunter said or thought about her. Seeing him again had shaken loose a few old memories, but she would make certain things between them went no further.

They talked for at least an hour about the neighborhood and the other tenants and all the plans that were in the works for fall festivals.

Fortunately, they managed to avoid any further mention of Hunter and any talk about Elizabeth’s murder, keeping things on the lighter edge of the spectrum.

Things had gone so well, Helena was stunned when she saw tears welling in Ella’s eyes as she walked Helena down the stairs and to the door.

“I’m thrilled you’re back, Helena. I promise not to be a burden, but you can’t imagine how much your being close by means to me. I miss your grandmother so much. She held me together when I literally didn’t think I could go on. She’s the only one who understood how much I was hurting.”

Ella’s words felt like a jagged cord circling Helena’s heart. “I know how close the two of you were, but you must have other friends you can talk to about your grief. It can’t be good for you to keep it all bottled up inside you.”

“I have lots of friends. They all try to help. Even Hunter comes by at least once a week. They say they understand, but they can’t. It’s not their pain. It’s mine. Most of them had never even met Elizabeth.”

“Your niece was beautiful in looks and spirit,” Helena said. “I know how much you loved her.”

“I still do, and I can’t begin to heal as long as the monster who killed her is out there just waiting to take someone else’s life.”

“They’ll find him and make him pay,” Helena said, though she wasn’t convinced of that herself. “Have you tried talking about your pain with Alyssa Orillon? Mia always said Alyssa had an uncanny talent for connecting with people.”

“We talked a few times. I begged her to try to reach Elizabeth across the gulf of death. All she did was tell me to think about happy times Elizabeth and I had together. It didn’t help. I’m just glad to have you back.”

Helena couldn’t leave it like this. A lie of omission even for a good reason was still a lie. “I hate disappointing you, Ella, more than you can know, but I’m not moving back to New Orleans.”

“But Mia left all the property to you. It’s yours free and clear.”

“It is. But my life isn’t in New Orleans. I’ve taken a new job in Boston that starts November 1. I’ll be moving there permanently then or sooner if this property sells.”

Ella stepped away. “But you loved this place. Mia had always counted on your moving here one day. You can’t just put it in the hands of strangers.”

It was useless to try to explain her own reasoning when at times she doubted the decision herself.

She took both of Ella’s hands in hers. “Let’s just take it a day at a time. Who knows? I may never find a buyer.”

Ella sighed and shrugged. “You will. It just won’t be a Cosworth.”

Helena felt like she was deserting Ella as she walked away, but at least Ella would have Hunter around to pay her visits.

And for some crazy, inexplicable reason, that thought made Helena feel worse.