Chapter Eighteen
It was noon before Raissa and Zach met up at a café in downtown New Orleans. Zach looked stressed, and Raissa couldn’t blame him. Ever since he’d told her Hank Henry was missing, she’d only thought the worst. She’d managed to reassure Maryse when she called hours before that Zach was in charge of the investigation and knew everything they did about Hank and the Heberts. Which was practically nothing. Both of them had already agreed to delay telling Helena until they knew something more concrete.
Raissa took a bite of her chicken sandwich, even though food was the last thing on her mind. “So did you get anything on Spencer?”
“Nothing good. Guy’s clean as a whistle when it comes to the police database. I figured as much.”
“I may have something.”
“Oh, yeah? What?”
“I had Helena do a search of Spencer’s office. She didn’t come back with much.”
“How does that help?”
“I mean she really didn’t come back with much. The place is almost empty.”
Zach’s eyes widened. “You think he’s getting ready to cut out?”
“If he hasn’t already. He knows you’re looking at him, since you questioned him the other day. He might figure it’s only a matter of time before someone connects the dots between him and the parents of the other kidnap victims.”
“Damn it. What good does the information do us if we can’t use it? I can hardly get a warrant from his home based on military personnel giving Maryse confidential information, and I have zero way of explaining how I know his office is cleared out.”
“Maybe we should question Dr. Spencer again. The police could have gotten a subpoena for information, for all he knows, and if he’s guilty of something—and it sure as hell looks like he is—the last thing he’d do is go running to the police to tell them about his suspicions that we broke into his office.”
“Maybe, but it’s a huge risk. If this whole case shakes loose over that information, how am I supposed to justify knowing what to ask him?”
Raissa frowned. He was right, and that frustrated her. Mainly because she hadn’t thought that far herself. She was so focused on finding Melissa that she’d forgotten anything that might happen afterward. And while she could probably get away with taking a hit for it, she didn’t want to ruin Zach’s career.
“I did find something I wanted to run by you,” Zach said.
“What’s that?”
“You know how the captain has me checking into the mayor’s family’s background? Well, an interesting thing happened when I tried to get information on Susannah Franco.”
“What?”
“She didn’t exist until she was eighteen. I find that a little strange, and way too familiar.”
Raissa’s mind raced with possibilities. “Could have been in witness protection with her parents and taken on another identity when she turned eighteen. Or she could have changed her name for any number of reasons.”
“Changing your name doesn’t get you a new Social Security number.”
“No. So what does her Social Security card say?”
“Susannah Forrester.”
“She never changed it after she married. I wonder why.”
“I think I can guess,” Zach said. “Because Susannah Forrester died thirty years ago.”
“Then who is Peter Franco married to?”
Zach shook his head. “I have no idea, and I wonder if Peter Franco does, either. They met in college, and all I can get from teachers and other acquaintances is that she was an only child and the rest of her family is deceased.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“The real Susannah Forrester lived in a bayou town on the outskirts of New Orleans. I figure Mrs. Franco had to know her to assume her identity. I’m going there as soon as we finish lunch to poke around. Do you want to ride along?”
Raissa bit her lip, trying to decide. Heck, yeah, she wanted to go, but she’d promised Maryse she’d head back to Mudbug after lunch to check for any Sonny recordings and fill Helena and Mildred in on the situation with Hank. Maryse had sounded panicked when Raissa talked with her earlier, so she knew her friend was hanging on by a thread. “I can’t. I’ve got to get back to Mudbug and handle the Hank issue with Maryse. And Mildred needs her car.”
Zach narrowed his eyes at her. “You aren’t thinking about questioning Spencer yourself, are you? Because that would be the dumbest thing in the world to do.”
Raissa blushed, as it had crossed her mind that Spencer’s office was only a couple of blocks from the café. “No, I’m not thinking about doing that.”
Zach stared at her.
“Okay, so I thought about it, but I can’t come up with a good enough excuse to do it. I promise I’ll go straight to Mudbug.”
“And call me when you get there.”
“I promise.”
“I mean it, Raissa.” Zach rose from the booth and leaned over to kiss her hard on the mouth. “You’re already taking enough risks. I want you around to see the end.”
“The end is what I’m afraid of. We’re running out of time.”
“We know more now than the FBI ever did. I know it’s a jumbled mess, but I’m just as certain that it’s all relevant. We’ll make sense of it in time to catch them.”
Raissa watched him through the plate-glass window of the café until he drove away, then reached for her wallet, tossed some bills on the table, and left. The only good thing so far was that between the stress and giving all her sweets to Helena, she’d lost a couple of pounds.
She’d just gotten in Mildred’s car when her cell phone began ringing. She looked at the display. Zach? She flipped open the phone and answered.
“Are you still at the café?”
“No. I just got in my car, why?”
“We have a huge problem.”
“What happened?”
“I just got a call—homicide.”
Raissa felt the blood rush from her face. “Oh, no. Not Hank.”
“No. Dr. Spencer.”
Shit. Raissa banged one hand on the steering wheel. “There goes our best lead.”
“That’s not the half of it. His body’s in your store. I’m headed over there now. I know you don’t want to run into Fields, and I can’t promise you they won’t ask me to hold you in custody until they figure this out, but I think you should get over there.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” She started the car and pulled onto the street, tires squealing. What the hell was Spencer doing in her shop? Who had killed him? And how? The questions outweighed the answers by a mile. It seemed that the closer they got to the truth, the more convoluted everything became.
The usually calm street was filled with vehicles, most of them with flashing lights. Raissa parked a block away and started up the sidewalk to her shop. A patrolman stopped her at the end of the block. “This is a crime scene, ma’am. No one’s allowed past at this time.”
Raissa pulled out her license to show the patrolman. “Your crime scene is in my shop. I got a call from a Detective Blanchard.”
The patrolman checked her license and nodded. “Right this way, Ms. Bordeaux. I’ll take you to the detective.”
The patrolman waved at another officer to take his position and escorted her to her shop. There was a crowd of people outside, and as they stepped to the door, the paramedics came out, pulling the gurney. The body was completely covered.
“Wait,” she said and stopped the paramedics. “May I?” She motioned to the body.
The patrolman nodded, and the paramedic pulled back the sheet to expose Dr. Spencer, with a clean bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
The paramedic pulled the sheet back over Spencer’s body and wheeled it onto the ambulance. The ambulance driver turned off the lights and they pulled away. No sense in hurrying on this one. Raissa turned and followed the patrolman into her store.
Zach stood next to the counter, talking to a member of the forensics team. He saw her come in and broke off his conversation to walk over. He thanked the patrolman, then pulled her to the back of the store to a section with the shape of a body taped on the floor. “He had a screwdriver, so we figure he was trying to open this door. That’s the stairs to your apartment, right?”
“Yeah.” Raissa shook her head. “But what was the point? Why come after me? You’re the police. I’m just the nut who owns the psychic shop.”
“Yeah, but you were with me when I questioned him, so he knows you’re involved, and that’s not all. We found his car in the parking garage behind his office. A black Cadillac.”
Raissa stared at him. “No way. It’s Sonny’s guys following me. We know that. And besides, Spencer’s name wasn’t on the DMV list.”
“It’s registered to his wife.” Zach glanced around and leaned his head toward her. “It has a bullet hole in the trunk,” he whispered.
Raissa didn’t know what to think. “Dr. Spencer tried to run me off the road? How did he even know to find me in Mudbug? He doesn’t know any of my friends. He’d never know to look for me there.”
“That is a damned good question, unless it was Spencer who put the tracking device on your car.”
“But why? We questioned him after he tried to run me off the road. After I’d already figured out the trace was installed.”
Zach shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it. It smacks of a professional hit, which smacks of your friends the Heberts. Maybe you’re wrong about Sonny being involved. Or maybe some of Sonny’s family is into business he doesn’t know about. All I know is that witnesses said the shot was fired from the driver’s side of a black Cadillac driving down the street. Now, how many people do you know who can land a bullet right between a guy’s eyes while driving?”
“Not many. What are we going to do? Spencer was the best lead we had.”
“Which is probably the main reason he’s dead. I’m going to call the captain about getting a search warrant for Spencer’s office and home, but it won’t happen immediately. Meantime, I’m calling in Morrow to cover this.”
Raissa frowned.
“I know, he’s a dickhead, but he’s also an idiot. With any luck, he won’t find any evidence that incriminates you in all this.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to continue with my original plan to check up on Susannah Franco. Someone close to the Francos bypassed that alarm system. I originally thought it was the mayor, but now I wonder. Anyway, get the hell out of here before someone else decides to question you.”
“Okay, wait,” Raissa said, confused. “Won’t your captain have a stroke if you let me get away?”
“He sorta sanctioned contact with you in order to get leads on the kidnapping case.”
“Sorta?”
“Yeah, as in, I’m allowed to contact you as long as I don’t get caught. Then, my guess is, he wouldn’t know anything about it.”
“Then I guess I’ll sorta get the hell out of here before I make things even messier.”
“Get back to Mudbug and close yourself in somewhere safe. I’ll call you as soon as I have some information on Susannah Franco.”
Raissa hurried back down the block, her head low so maybe no one would remember what she looked like and associate her with Zach, at least not right away. None of this made sense. Why had Spencer tried to kill her? Was he tied to the Heberts? And who had taken Hank Henry and for what reason? Even more important, where was he now?
The first thing she needed to do was check the feed from Sonny’s. If Sonny’s men had anything to do with Spencer’s murder, she’d be able to hear all about it, provided they were in Sonny’s office. She got into her car and headed back to Mudbug as fast as Mildred’s ancient sedan would allow.