The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(31)
Author: Karen White

 

“While you what?”

 

I hesitated too long while I tried to make up an answer he’d believe, and that wouldn’t make me look overly naïve and ignorant.

 

“Oh, no. Let me guess: while you pretend to want to get back together with Michael so you can get inside the family circle.”

 

Jaxson sank back into the couch and blew air out between his lips in a sharp whistle. “Oh, boy. I’ve heard a lot of crazy ideas in my line of work, but—I’m not going to lie—that’s probably the craziest. And dumbest.” He sat up straight again. “And definitely too dangerous. You could get hurt, Nola.” He attempted a smile. “Jolene would never forgive me.”

 

“Which is why I’m not telling her everything. I’ve already told her that I’m having dinner with Michael tomorrow night, but not everything else. I’ll be really careful, and if it looks like things aren’t going well, I’m outta there before anyone gets hurt.”

 

“I’m guessing there’s no way to talk you out of this, is there?”

 

“No. Trust me, if Beau would just be grateful that he has his sister back and let it go at that, I wouldn’t be doing this. But since I’ve already committed, I’ve been thinking about all the loose ends that were just swept under the table when Sunny reappeared.”

 

Jaxson straightened. “Like what?”

 

“Well, the locked closet, for one. Inside, besides a pristine Mr. Bingle doll, there were a bunch of hatboxes.” I held up my hand the way Jolene did, counting off with each finger, starting with my thumb. “In one of them, there was a tie clasp and pipe that had belonged to Charles Ryan, a yellow hair ribbon that had been worn by Sunny, and a film negative showing Sunny’s abduction. In another was Jeanne’s clientele book from Maison Blanche. We get that all of it could be used as physical evidence if the Ryans ever decided to pursue a case against the Broussards. Which is why Mimi wanted Beau’s dad, Buddy, to destroy it all in the first place. To protect her family. If the Broussards knew that stuff was still around . . .” My voice trailed off, the consequences settling uneasily on my shoulders.

 

Jaxson thrummed his fingers on his leg, thinking. “And then Buddy disappeared, and we can’t ask him why he didn’t get rid of it all, but my guess is that his idea was to convince Mimi and the Broussards that he had destroyed everything, planning to wait until he had more evidence for a solid case. But then he—”

 

“Disappeared, presumed dead, another victim of Katrina,” I finished.

 

Jaxson steepled his fingers, something he probably did when working out the logistics of a case, which definitely made him look more lawyerly. Except for the freckles. “Which is why after Michael’s uncle found out about the office door still being at the house where Jeanne had been killed and that you’d bought the cottage, he sent Michael to discover if there might be more incriminating evidence that had survived.”

 

At my look of distress, he said, “Sorry. I know it’s a sore subject.”

 

“Like sliding down a razor blade and landing in alcohol. But Beau is determined to see justice served. Unfortunately, to get to the bottom of all of this I’m going to have to spend some time with Michael.”

 

“You can’t be serious.”

 

“As a heart attack. We figure if I can find out the truth before Beau has a chance to stick his nose into places where it will draw attention, we can see justice served and everyone can sleep at night without keeping one eye open.”

 

“But did Beau toss all of the hatbox contents into the Manchac Swamp along with the Maison Blanche door?”

 

I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “Um, not exactly.”

 

Jaxson’s brows shot up. “Not exactly?”

 

“Let’s just say that they’re in a safe place. There were too many questions without answers, and Beau and I thought that it would be . . . premature to destroy everything. I mean, why was Jeanne’s clientele book saved? Jolene and I have gone through it dozens of times to see if we could find anything that might incriminate her uncle.” I swallowed with distaste. “The one who was sexually abusing her and the reason why she was murdered.”

 

“By her father.” Jaxson shook his head. “This is all so disturbing. But okay. The clientele book is obviously important. It could have been kept for the same reason the door was. So Mimi could . . .” He stopped, searching for the right word.

 

“It’s called psychometry. The Broussards know about Mimi’s abilities, which is why they wanted to destroy the door, and would want to destroy anything else that ties the Broussards to Jeanne’s murder if they knew it existed.”

 

“Have you asked Mimi to see if she can read the items from the hatboxes? Or whatever it’s called that she does.”

 

“Reading objects. Touching them. I’m not sure what she calls it. But no. We, uh, can’t.”

 

Jaxson drew his eyebrows together in question before realization came to him. “Because she thinks Beau destroyed everything.”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“Let me get this straight—you and Mimi are working on your own plan to keep Beau occupied while you are also working with Sam and Sunny to figure things out before Beau can, while at the same time you’re pretending to be interested in Michael Hebert so you can get inside the Broussard family and see if you can find out anything to help them. Sounds perfect to me. I mean, what could go wrong?”

 

“I know, right?”

 

For a long moment he stared at me with a look of unflattering surprise. “I’m kidding, Nola. This sounds like a Scooby-Doo episode. You know, where there are lots of really bad guys dressed as monsters chasing and attempting to kill all the characters until at the end the monsters are revealed to be the bad guys and the police show up to make the arrest and nobody gets hurt. But this isn’t an old cartoon, Nola. This could end very, very badly.”

 

“I understand your concern, Jaxson. I do. And I appreciate it. Just know that I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.”

 

“I think it’s too late for that.”

 

I frowned at him. “You’re not going to tell Beau, are you? Because you and I both know that I have a better chance than he does when it comes to covert activity.”

 

Jaxson hesitated for a moment before giving a single reluctant nod.

 

“Good. Because I need your uncle Bernie’s help. He thinks like a cop and knows all the players. But I wanted to ask you first because Bernie’s not as young as he used to be, and I don’t want him to get involved unless you think he’s healthy and strong enough. And if you think we can protect his identity. I really need his help, but I won’t ask him if you don’t think I should.”