Who did? Lucky bastard.
“So you entered the office with the flowers?”
“Yes.”
Something in her tone and body language led him to believe she wasn’t being completely honest with him. “You carried the flowers to the office, then what?”
“Opened the door. Stepped inside and-” She pressed her lips together. “I saw the cards and drawing and went to get Mrs. Noble.”
“And where was Mrs. Noble?”
“In her office.”
“Where are they now?”
Her expression went blank. She blinked. “Pardon?”
“The flowers. They’re not on the desk.”
“I don’t know where…the kitchen. On the counter, I think.”
“We were playing White Rabbit in the kitchen. I don’t recall seeing them.”
“Mrs. Noble’s desk,” she said, sounding relieved. “I went to get her and set the vase on her desk. They were heavy.”
Spencer pictured the scenario as she’d described it. “Thank you, Mrs. Maitlin. I may need to ask you a few questions later.”
She nodded, started off, then stopped. “What did it mean? Those cards, the writing?”
“We’re not sure. Yet.”
The evidence techs arrived. Spencer greeted them and pointed toward the office. He glanced back at the housekeeper to find her staring at the team, expression pinched, cheeks pale.
She became aware of his gaze, spun on her heel and walked away. He watched her go and frowned. She was keeping something from him. But what? And why?
Spencer went in search of Troy, Leo’s driver and guy Friday. He found him washing the Mercedes. He caught sight of Spencer and straightened. “Yo,” he said.
“You have a minute?”
“Sure.” He tossed the chamois onto the car’s hood. “Needed a smoke, anyway.”
Spencer waited while the man shook out a cigarette, lit it and took a drag. He flashed him a bright white smile. “Filthy habit. But I’m still young, right?”
Spencer agreed he was. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary today?”
He sucked on the smoke, eyes narrowed in thought. “Nope.”
“See anybody who didn’t belong?” Again the man indicated he hadn’t. “You were out front all morning?”
“Washing and waxing the Benz. Do it every Saturday. Mr. Noble likes his wheels to look sharp.”
Spencer glanced toward his Camaro, parked at the curb, desperately in need of a wash.
“That your ride?” Troy asked, indicating the Camaro.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Sweet.” He snubbed out the cigarette. “I wasn’t here all morning. Mr. Noble sent me to fetch some things for your game.”
“When was that?”
“Between eight and ten-thirty. Give or take. I ran out for a sandwich around noon.”
For an hour this morning both the housekeeper and driver had been off the property.
“Thanks, Troy. You going to be around all day?”
He smiled and picked up the chamois. “Gotta be here in case the boss man wants me.”
“Slick?”
Spencer turned at the sound of his partner’s voice. He waited as Tony ambled up the walk. “Get anything?” he asked.
“Not that matters. Old lady across the street complained about comings and goings over here at all hours. Swore the Nobles were into something illegal.” He paused. “Or were aliens.”
“Great. And this morning?”
“Quiet as a tomb.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.” He glanced at his watch. “You done here?”
“Not quite. Need to question the yardman. Tag along?”
Tony agreed and they headed out back. The gardens were lush and well kept; the sheer volume of beds to tend, staggering. Certain times of the year, such as now, they probably required full-time attention to keep them looking the way they did.
At the moment, the yardman was on his knees in the southern-most corner of the property, planting annuals. Impatiens, Spencer saw as they reached the man.
“Barry?” Spencer asked. “Police. We need to ask you a few questions.”
Not a man, Spencer saw as the kid turned. Little more than a boy.
Barry frowned at them, then removed his headphones. “Hey.”
Spencer flashed his badge. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
Several emotions chased across the kid’s face: Suspicion. Curiosity. Fear. He nodded and stood, wiping his hands on his denim cutoffs. He was tall, gangly and thin. He’d yet to fill out his frame.
“What’s up?”
“You been here all day?”
“Since nine.”
“Talk to anybody?”
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
“You don’t seem so sure.”
“No.” His cheeks turned pink. “I’m sure.”
“See anybody?”
“I was on my knees, facing the fence all day. Do you think I saw anybody?”
Touchy. “These all planted today?” Spencer indicated the border of impatiens.
“Yeah.”
“Pretty.”
“I think so.” He smiled but the curving of his lips looked wooden.
“You go inside today, Barry?”
“No.”
“What’d you do, take a piss in the bushes?”
“Pool house.”
“What about water and food?”
“I bring everything I need.”
“Did you see anybody you didn’t recognize today?”
“Nope.” He glanced toward the house, then back at them. “Mind if I get back to work? If I don’t finish today, I gotta come back tomorrow.”
“Go ahead, Barry. We’ll be around…if you think of anything.”
The kid returned to his work. Spencer and Tony started toward the house. “He was awfully defensive for somebody who’d kept his nose in the dirt all day,” Tony said.
“My thoughts exactly.” Spencer’s cell rang; he picked up the call. “Malone here.”
He listened, then asked the dispatcher to repeat what she’d said. Not because he hadn’t heard, but because he wished he hadn’t.
“We’re on our way.”
He looked at Tony, who cursed. “What now? It’s friggin’ Saturday.”
“Walter Pogolapoulos is dead. Washed up on the banks of the Mississippi River.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Oh, it gets better. The Mississippi River at the Moonwalk. A tourist from Kansas City found him. Apparently, the mayor is shitting purple bricks.”
CHAPTER 34
Saturday, March 12, 2005
6:00 p.m.
By the time they reached the French Quarter Moonwalk, the scene had been entirely cordoned off. Like bees to honey, a crowd had been drawn to the crime-scene tape and police cruisers.
Spencer angled the Camaro into a spot along the railroad tracks. He popped the glove box, retrieved the jar of Vicks VapoRub he kept there and dropped it into his jacket pocket.
He looked at Tony. “Ready to do this thing?”
“Let’s go.”
They climbed out of the Camaro. The Moonwalk, a promenade developed atop the levee at the French Quarter, lay between Jackson Square and the Mississippi River, the Café du Monde and the Jax Brewery shopping complex.
Spencer swept his gaze over the area. Damn inconsiderate of Pogo, washing up here. In terms of visibility, few spots beat this one. In terms of unwanted heat, the spot was even worse. Anything that touched tourism, the city’s biggest industry, attracted attention. The governor’s. The mayor’s. The media’s.
The mayor would come down hard on the chief, who in turn would climb his aunt Patti’s frame. Who, in turn, would put the screws to him and Tony.
Shit rolled downhill.
He and Tony were about to be hip deep in brown muck.
They crossed to one of the uniforms at the perimeter and signed in. “Fill us in.”
“Tourist found him. He got good and sick.” He pointed toward the cruisers. Spencer saw that the back door of one of them was open and a man was sitting sideways on the seat, head in hands. “My partner’s baby-sitting him.”