“I’m so sorry,” Casey whispered.
Lena shrugged. “Anthony inherited the house, you know. No one had lived in it for a while, and...the reason Elijah left him the company was because Anthony didn’t really want it. He didn’t care about the money—he was an artist. A good one. But he’d loved Elijah since he was a little boy, and Elijah loved him. When it all came up about five years ago, I said, ‘Sure, we’ll live in your old family house, and we’ll try to do good things.’ I damned us both with that.”
“You’re not damned.”
“No, I don’t think so. And I’ve heard people move on when...when they’re ready. When the time comes. Into a beautiful light. But the thing is, Anthony and I...we’re both dead,” Lena said bitterly. “I wouldn’t care so much, except...”
“You’re worried about Annette.”
“And my sister. Casey, don’t you see? They’ll kill her and Annette.”
“Okay, so a man was there with a knife. You don’t know who.”
“He wore black—black pants, black hoodie, black ski mask...completely covered. And I never got close to him. I couldn’t recognize a smell or anything like that. I’m not even sure about the color of his eyes because I think he was wearing weird costume contact lenses. I don’t know who he was. I beg you, help me. At least get to Stephanie and warn her that she’s in danger. And tell her that...he wanted to kill the baby when he killed me.”
This can’t be real.
But Casey could see Lena sitting there. Maybe it was her own strange sense of guilt. Or the way she had felt at St. Mary of Light Cemetery while seeing the Marceau tomb.
“I don’t know how much help I can give you,” Casey said. “But—”
“But?”
“Of course, I’ll help in any way I can. Tomorrow...I’ll find a way to see your sister. I’ll warn her that she’s in danger. She’ll probably tell me I’m a quack who owns a mystic shop and thinks she’s got a direct phone line to the Underworld.”
“Stephanie isn’t stupid. I believe she knows she could be in danger. I need her to know just how much,” Lena said.
Casey nodded. “Okay, I...I’ll do my best.”
* * * *
“You’re back,” Braxton said, forcing a weak smile as he greeted Ryder.
Ryder had told Braxton not to worry about picking him up at the airport. Said he could grab transportation himself.
But Braxton had insisted on coming, and he was here now, waiting for Ryder in the baggage claim section of Louis Armstrong International Airport.
“Yes, I’m back,” Ryder said, shaking Braxton’s hand. His old friend looked at him with skeptical worry. “Ryder, you know that—”
“I’m not going to be a pain,” Ryder promised.
“But you’re here because of the Marceau incident,” Braxton said. “Ryder, it’s over. The M.E. found nothing but an overdose of prescribed sedatives in her system.”
“Don’t forget, Lena Marceau was my cousin.”
“Second cousin. Your mothers were cousins.”
“I don’t care what kind of cousin.”
“But no suicide note was ever discovered. You’re my friend. I tried. But the medical examiner, as you know, found nothing else,” Braxton said, his tone miserable.
“Right,” Ryder said. “And still, the Marceau fortune is in the hands of a two-year-old child. But I know when Elijah died, they discovered his will was extensive and detailed. Control went to Anthony, and then to Lena, and then from her to the baby, Annette, controlled by her legal guardian until she comes of age. And Stephanie Harrow is the baby’s legal guardian now. Everything is hers, held in trust. And after her husband died, Lena saw to it that her sister was added to the corporation’s board of directors.”
“That can’t sit well with the rest of the family and board members.”
“There are five other people on that board, Braxton, including Justin Marceau.”
“Oh, come on. You think that—”
“I do,” Ryder interrupted, speaking firmly. But then he hesitated. “Stephanie called me last night. She was out with the baby and realized she was being followed. She didn’t head back to the house but went straight to Bourbon Street.”
“With a two-year-old child?”
“She knew there would be people there, plenty of witnesses. She found one of your officers and said he was a good guy. She asked him to see that she and the baby got home safely, and he did. Braxton, I’m just going to hang around and see what I can find out. Anthony and Lena dead within months of one another—by accident or suicide—and that starting a year after old Elijah passed on? I’m not knocking the NOLA police, you know that I’m not, but I believe that something more is going on. Come on, Braxton.”
“Yes, but...” Braxton paused, shaking his head. “We’ve gotten word the FBI is disinterring a fellow who worked for the corporation—who conveniently died in Mississippi.”
“Yes.”
“But, Ryder—”
“If his heart attack was induced, then even you will have to admit it’s starting to look suspicious.”
“Induced? But a heart attack—”
“William didn’t have a heart condition.”
“But a heart attack—”
“Can be induced.”
Braxton sighed and shook his head.
“Braxton, Jackson Crow obviously knows I’m here. I’m not official, again, no one has asked us in. And I’m not going to get in your way. But I’m going to be around for Stephanie, all right?”
“I just want you to be careful. We have a great relationship with the Krewe down here. Your Krewe of Hunters started up in NOLA, you know.”
“I do know that,” Ryder said. And he did. He knew the history of the Krewe. He’d wanted to be FBI for as long as he could remember. His father was a retired agent. When he heard about the Krewe—through rumor, mostly—he’d known what he wanted. He’d been accepted into the academy when he made a point of finding Jackson Crow, knowing when the man would be at his son’s baseball game.
But Jackson had already known about Ryder. He’d wondered about that until he passed the academy and became Krewe.
Then, he’d learned that Jackson had heard about the strange case in Alexandria that Ryder had solved as a young police detective.
He’d longed to be a part of a group that understood him.
As it happened, the group had been watching him.
“So, officially, you’re what? On vacation?” Braxton asked skeptically.
“You could say that.”
Braxton groaned but picked up Ryder’s bag and headed to the elevators for the parking garage. “As far as the NOPD goes, the case is closed. Lena has been interred, and life goes on. Where am I taking you?”
“The Marceau house,” Ryder said.
“You’re staying at the Marceau mansion?”
“The baby invited me.”
“Hey!” Braxton protested.
“The baby owns the house. Stephanie is her legal guardian. I’m here because Stephanie is afraid. She is convinced that her sister was murdered, Braxton. Doesn’t it worry you? Anthony and Lena, both dead? Another man possibly murdered, and Stephanie all that stands between that baby and her life?”