His wife went to their condo in Mandeville? I mused. Apparently it wasn’t just a weekend getaway. That was an interesting—and important—detail. I gave the bedroom area one final scan, then went down the hall to a smaller bedroom to speak to the maid.
She was shaken but coherent. I asked her a few quick identification questions, ignoring my near certainty that she was an illegal immigrant and instead being grateful that she spoke damn good English. Auri had worked for the Sharps for the past two years—coming in to cook and clean on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Except that this week she’d come Friday as well, at Davis Sharp’s request. She seemed terribly nervous, which I wrote off as concern that I would make an issue of her status, but when I gave her my standard “I’m far more interested in working this case than dealing with immigration issues” speech, she surprised me by shaking her head firmly.
“No. I no worry about that. It Mr. Sharp,” she said, gesturing with a fluttering hand toward the bedroom. “He bad upset yesterday.”
“Because of his wife?”
“Sí. Miss Elena go Thursday morning and take all her things. But that not all.”
“What else was there?”
“Another lady come over Thursday after Miss Elena go. I hear her talk to Mr. Sharp, then they go upstairs.” She pursed her lips in clear disapproval. “A few minute later he come down and tell me I can go, ask me to come back Friday because Miss Elena not coming back and he need laundry and cooking.”
I blinked. “Hold on. Have you ever seen this woman here before?”
She shook her head slowly. “No … I no think so. I come most time in morning and see Miss Elena go out for walks with ladies from neighborhood, but I no think this lady one of those. But yesterday I come here again. I clean house and cook dinner like Mr. Sharp want, but he no look happy. He stay upstairs most of day. This other lady come and let herself in back door, then she go upstairs like she live here.” Auri scowled and shook her head. “Mr. Sharp, he lean out bedroom door and shout down to me, tell me I can go early.” She spread her hands and shrugged. “I leave dinner in fridge and go.” Her lower lip trembled. “I come today, I see dinner still in fridge. Then I go to bedroom to pick up laundry. I hear water, so I think he in shower. I clean, start laundry, and water still running. It been almost hour, so I call for him, then I look … I think he hurt real bad. I see him in shower, on floor, and he no breathing.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I turn off water and call police.”
I pressed her for any further details or a description of the woman, but Auri apparently had caught only a fleeting glimpse of the woman as she went upstairs. Light hair, slender figure, dressed in what looked like expensive clothes. And that describes half the female population of this subdivision, I thought in mild annoyance. I finally got as much contact information as I could from her and let her leave.
So, was Sharp getting some action on the side? If so, how long had it been going on? And was that why his wife left? And had this other woman come back later?
I returned to the bathroom, drawn back to the body despite the wrongness of it. I had to clench my hands to keep them from shaking. Could it just be me? Is it my judgment that’s out of whack?
I let out an unsteady breath as I took a mental step back, looking around the bathroom and the adjoining bedroom for any similarity at all to Brian Roth’s death. But nothing leaped out at me. Different neighborhoods, different class of victim.
Maybe a similar cause of death? Brian’s was an apparent suicide, but there were still a lot of questions, and until we found Carol we wouldn’t know anything for certain. And, on the surface, the Davis Sharp case looked as if it was going to be a garden-variety accident or possibly a heart attack, but the fact that his wife had apparently left him certainly added a twist. I had to keep in mind the possibility that this was a murder staged to look like an accident. I’d check with Jill later to see if Crime Scene found anything suspicious, and I’d also check the maid out as much as I could.
I heard Crawford come up behind me, making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of Sharp’s still-damp rear end.
“Nice view. Got anything yet, Kara?” he asked as he took in the scene.
“Just some basics so far.” I gave him a quick rundown, then closed my notebook, my gaze inexorably drawn back to the body. The emptiness seemed to mock me, and now I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I was seeing wrongness in something that wasn’t wrong. Maybe something had changed in the way essence was released after death? Changed in the universe in general? Maybe this was happening to all bodies, not just the ones I’d seen yesterday and today. I hadn’t been on any death calls—natural or homicide—since my own “death.” Maybe crossing through the spheres had changed something in my perception?
No, that didn’t make any sense. The essence had obviously been ripped away as soon as death had loosened its grip. I could see the trailing threads, and I couldn’t imagine any possible way for that to occur naturally.
“Kara?” Crawford’s voice jerked me out of my thoughts. “Are you with me?” he said, a mixture of annoyance and worry in his voice.
I flushed and gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, Sarge. Sorry. Well, this looks like an accident, but his wife left him, and he might have been getting some action on the side, so it’s possible that there was something hinky going on. I’ll check the wife’s alibi and see if I can find out who this other woman was.”
“Sounds good.” He snorted. “Well, this is a prominent local businessman and parish councilman, so we jump through all of the damn hoops to figure out exactly how this guy ended ass end up in the fucking shower.”
I gave him the amused smile he expected, but I didn’t feel amused. I felt shaken. Shit, I needed to figure out if this essence loss was happening all over or just to a few people. And, once again, just like in the Symbol Man case, I couldn’t tell my supervisors what was really going on. Yeah, Sarge, I’m looking for a link between these two utterly unrelated cases because someone has eaten their souls. Yeesh.
Crawford sighed gustily. “All right, Kara. I know you already have Brian’s case to work, but that should be only paperwork. And with luck you’ll be able to wash your hands of this one pretty soon.” Then he snickered. “No pun intended.” He looked at me with a crooked grin. “Get it? Shower … wash …”
I lowered my head and gave him a look. “Go. Away.”
He grinned. “Okay. This one is hopefully a dumb accident with a rich fuck who slipped on some soap.” His eyes slid to Sharp’s naked ass. “And I’ll be behind you the entire way.”
I groaned. “Somebody shoot me, please.”
It was well past mid-morning by the time the scene was completely processed and the body carted away by the coroner’s office. The heat had risen to the point where I was damp with sweat from the short walk from the house to my car. I climbed in, deeply grateful that, by pure happenstance, I’d parked under a tree. Still, I cranked the AC to arctic levels and allowed the vents to blast me with air that was nowhere near arctic but was a damn sight cooler than the air outside.
I was just about to put the car into drive when I saw Crawford jogging up, a grim look on his face. I rolled the window down as he approached.
He stooped to look in at me. “Brian’s wife has been found.”
I could tell by his expression that she hadn’t been found alive. “Where?”
“City Hotel.” An expression of distaste crossed his face.
“What the fuck was she doing there?”
He exhaled. “That’s what you’re going to find out. I have to finish up a couple of things here, and then I’ll meet you over there.”
“You got it, Sarge.”