Greg Herren - Murder in the Rue Ursulines

She’d considered taking her insurance settlement and retiring from the force, moving to Memphis to be closer to her daughters and their kids, but had decided to stay and be a part of the recovery. She could have taken the tests that would have improved her rank, but Venus wasn’t an administrator. “I’d rather stay where I am,” she always said, “where I can do some good for the people of this city. That’s why I became a cop, not to have to deal with all the bullshit that comes with a damned desk job.”

Her face was impassive when she walked into the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her. She nodded to me, and then inclined her head toward Storm Bradley, my attorney. “You think you need a lawyer?” She raised one of her eyebrows.

I’d called Storm after waking up and taking a shower. As soon I said who I was, he’d cut me off and insisted, to use his phrase, that I get my ass over to his office as soon as I could. “And take a cab,” he said. “We’ll go see the cops immediately afterward.”

“All right,” he said, after he ushered me in, “tell me everything. I’m on the job now.”

I was taken aback by his assumption I’d already hired him. As I sat and sipped coffee this assistant brought, I took a good look at him. My first thought was that Loren hadn’t done me any favors, and maybe I should have found a lawyer on my own. He looked sloppy, for one thing. He was in his mid to late thirties, and was one of those guys who’d been athletic when young, but was going to seed as he got older. He was fleshy and his face was red-but he was good-looking in that former jock kind of way. He was losing his dirty blond hair, but to give him credit, he wasn’t trying to hide it with a comb-over. He was wearing a canary yellow dress shirt with a dove-gray suit, and his tie was bright red with yellow stripes the exact shade of his shirt. He had intelligent-looking eyes above thick cheeks, and as I told him my story-beginning with being hired to trace the e-mails, he sat and listened, occasionally jotting notes on a legal pad he balanced on his lap. When I finished, he stroked his chin, and I noticed a patch of hair he’d missed when shaving that morning. “So,” I asked, “what do I do now?”

“Let me think about this for a minute,” he replied, and finished his coffee.

I sat there, waiting for him to speak. The silence stretched uncomfortably. I was just about to say something when he finally spoke. “Well, one thing is for sure. We do need to go talk to the police-immediately. And you need to tell them everything you know.”

I was a little irritated. I needed to pay a lawyer to tell me something I already knew?

“Don’t tell them anything besides the absolute fact,” he went on. “Nothing extraneous, like your impressions or what you think-there’s no need for that. Just the facts-they hired you to trace these e-mails, you think you saw Freddy coming out of Glynis Parrish’s house, they want you to work on the case, and that the e-mails came from Glynis’s computer. Other than that, you don’t say a word.”

Well, duh.

“You’re in a hell of a mess, but that’s why I’m here.” He beamed at me. “I’ll be with you when to talk to them-I’m pretty sure I know the detectives assigned to the case.” He barked out a short laugh. “They’re not exactly fond of me, but they’re honest and they can be trusted, and they know I won’t jerk them around.” He stared at me. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you? You’re thinking, Who is this asshole telling me what to do? I’m the asshole who’s going to protect you, that’s who I am. I’m the person who is not going to let anyone chew you up and spit you out.” He put the legal pad back into his briefcase. “If I say don’t answer a question, you don’t answer it. You do not talk to the media. You do not talk to either the police or the district attorney’s office without me present; in fact, all meetings and talks with them must come through me. They are not to contact you without going through me.”

“Two of my best friends are cops, and my best friend is a reporter.” I replied. “So, until this is all cleared up, I shouldn’t talk to them?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Sure you can. Just not about this case-this is off limits. You can’t discuss this case with anyone but me from this moment on, am I clear?” He leaned forward. “I know that probably seems nuts to you, but I am a lot more familiar with the law than you are.” He waved me off as I started to talk and went on, “Yes, I know you have a degree in Criminology. I know you were a cop for two years and you’ve been a private eye ever since.” He shrugged. “I had my secretary dig up some information on you after Loren called me last night. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into. And Chanse, I will do everything I possibly can to protect you and look out for your interests. I’m on your side, and no one else’s. All I ask is that you do as I tell you and never lie to me about anything. I can’t help you if you lie to me. And the most important thing you have to do is stay as far away from this case as you possibly can.”

“But-“

He cut me off, and gave me another hard look before shaking his head. “I can’t decide if you’re naïve or just plain stupid,” he said.

That was it. I was done with him. But before I could tell him, he went on, “I understand that you want to investigate-I get it, really, I do. But that’s just insane-“ he paused, implying, at the very least, that I was going to wind up losing my license-. “Do you really want to start a whole new career at this stage of your life?”

“Well, no.” I crossed my arms. He was getting me slightly worked up, despite the fact that I really can’t imagine what you’d have to do to lose a PI license in Louisiana.

He sighed. “It’s bad enough that you took their money. That’s going to weaken your credibility as a witness.”

“But my testimony is damaging to Freddy Bliss. I’m the only person who can place him at the crime scene.”

“You said yourself that you were certain it was Freddy until you talked to them.” Storm shook his head. “Now, you’re not so sure.” He cleared his throat. “Mr. MacLeod, when you saw the man walking out of Glynis Parrish’s home, were you certain it was Freddy Bliss? And remember, you are under oath.”

“At the time, I was.” I answered, and immediately saw the trap. My heart began pounding in my ears.

“But now you’re not so certain?” He put a twist on his voice that clearly implied, I don’t believe a word you’re saying.

“I’m relatively certain.” I replied. “But-“

He cut me off. “And how just much money did Freddy Bliss pay you for your services?”

“He and his wife paid me five thousand dollars…”

“And what is your going rate? And remember, Mr. MacLeod, you are under oath.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, all right?” I sighed. “But there’s no way they could have known when they paid me…” I stopped.

Storm folded his arms and looked at me. His eyebrows were raised. “You see now how it sounds? The one witness who saw Freddy Bliss come out of Glynis’s house just happens to have a ten thousand dollar check from Freddy’s lawyer. It smells to high heaven like a payoff.”

“But there’s no way in hell they could have known I’d see him coming out of Glynis Parrish’s house around the time of the murder. There’s no way they could have known I’d be there on Ursulines at the right time. No one could have known where I’d park the car. Only my friend Paige even knew I’d be in the Quarter last night.”

Storm stared at me long and hard before answering. “You still don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter whether or not they could have known any of that beforehand. The district attorney’s job is to convict Freddy Bliss-if it comes to that-and he is going to make sure of two things: That when you saw whoever it was, you thought it was Freddy. And then, after you talked to Freddy, you changed your mind and became unsure of who you saw. And their lawyer wrote you a check for ten thousand dollars, Chanse. There is no time stamp on that check. Even the date doesn’t matter; anyone can write whatever date they want on a check-you know that as well as I do.”