“The Del Payton case,” Glass finished. “I know about that. And I know about your Pulitzer. Good work, by the way. I read your Payton stories last night in the hotel, on the Internet.”
Caitlin felt the way she did after being given a blast of nitrous oxide at her dentist’s office. She wanted to say thank you, but she found herself strangely tongue-tied by Glass’s praise. She was almost never starstruck, but years of hero worship couldn’t be easily hidden.
With a fluid motion Glass raised her camera and shot a photo of a mallard coming in low for a shallow landing on the water. “What’s it like being with a politician?”
“Penn? He’s no politician.”
“He’s not?”
Caitlin laughed. “He’s a crusading lawyer with a savior complex. And a part-time novelist. Deep down, he’s just a boy who wants to save his hometown.”
Jordan smiled at Caitlin’s candor. “Can it be saved?”
Caitlin shrugged. “I didn’t think so, once. But now I think maybe it can. I’ve promised to try to help him.”
“Good for you.” Jordan let her camera rest against her chest. “But if a crusading lawyer with a savior complex is anything like a crusading FBI agent with one, I don’t envy you. At least you can work alongside Penn. That’s something I really can’t do, except by little charades like this one.”
Caitlin tried an encouraging smile but felt as though she’d failed.
“I guess you ought to call me Jordan,” said Glass. “After my overshare back there.”
Caitlin laughed with relief. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I spent some time on Nexis last night. I couldn’t find any Examiner stories about the murders Henry has been covering.”
“These old cases have been Henry’s private preserve, so to speak,” Caitlin said, reddening with embarrassment. “But I actually hired Henry yesterday. He was supposed to start writing for me today. But then … last night happened.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Usually very close with information, Caitlin felt a powerful urge to confide in her childhood hero. Surely Jordan Glass would have sage advice for her. And yet … could she trust Jordan not to reveal the conversation to her husband?
“Do you always tell your husband everything about your work?”
Jordan smiled. “No, ma’am. I do not.”
“Does he think you do?”
“He pretends to think that.”
It was Caitlin’s turn to smile. “Does he tell you everything?”
Glass shook her head. “If John told me everything he knows, he could be charged with treason.”
“I see. Penn and I operate by a similar set of rules. We keep our two careers as separate as possible.”
“Yet you’re both here today.”
“More separate than together today, to be honest. And we’ll split up as soon as we get back to the hospital.”
“Which brings me back to my question. What are you going to do now? Pick up where Henry Sexton left off?”
You bet your ass I am. “Isn’t that what you’d do?”
“Hell, yes. And I’ll tell you something else. I’d rather help you do that than sit around here taking pictures of these guys waiting for a lake to be pumped dry.”
Caitlin wondered if her suspicion showed on her face. After several seconds, she made a silent decision. “Tell you what. If you get too bored, and you’re still in town tomorrow morning, come see me at the Examiner. I could use a world-class combat photographer.”
Glass raised an eyebrow. “Are you expecting a war?”
Caitlin saw no reason to hide the anger that was driving her. “Starting one, if nobody manages to stop me.”
“What about this afternoon? I could get free for a couple of hours.”
Caitlin wondered for a moment if John Kaiser had encouraged his wife to spy on her. But when Caitlin shook her head, it was with genuine regret. “No, I’m sorry. This afternoon I have to work alone.”
Jordan nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. “Good for you.”
TO MY SURPRISE, JOHN Kaiser has no knowledge of Brody Royal’s involvement with the Double Eagles. He knows Royal is a player in the New Orleans real estate market, and that he had ties with Carlos Marcello long ago. He’s also aware that two federal witnesses disappeared before they could testify against Royal and his son-in-law in the state insurance fraud case. But beyond this, he seems to know little.
“Last night you mentioned major 1960s assassinations on the telephone,” he says. “I did some digging, but I couldn’t find any connection between Royal and extreme politics. There was some talk that he might have contributed to the anti-Castro cause back in the day, but that was it.”
“I’m not sure Brody’s motive was political. But it’s not the assassinations I’m worried about right now. It’s Viola Turner. I think Royal was behind her death.”
Kaiser’s skepticism is plain. “Why on earth would he want that woman dead? Dwight and the other agents who worked this area in the sixties never mentioned Royal to me. What do you have on him?”
“I’d rather not answer that just yet. But if you grant me a favor, you may well find most of your work done without lifting another finger.”
Now Kaiser looks suspicious. “This must be some favor you want.”
“It is. I want you to extend your digital surveillance to include Royal and his right-hand man, Randall Regan. Regan is married to Royal’s daughter.”
Kaiser runs his tongue around the inside of his cheek. “And why would I do that?”
“Because if you do, within twenty-four hours, you may have proof that Royal ordered the deaths of Albert Norris, Pooky Wilson, Jimmy Revels, Luther Davis, and Dr. Leland Robb. Eventually, you’ll find out he was behind the deaths of those two federal witnesses as well.”
Kaiser’s eyes have gone wide. “You and I obviously need to have a long talk.”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I’ve got things to do. But if you do this for me, we’ll have our talk.”