Dead Spaces: The Big Uneasy 2.0 (6 page)

“A family member?”

A pause. “You think Nell—”

“I don’t want to think it, but this all started because of her. She’s been here for a couple of years. And only now do things start to happen?” She waited for a light. “Someone—or several someones—thought Nell knew something.” She’d finally produced the papers that had gone missing. Claimed she hadn’t known they were hidden in an old music box of her dad’s. “It is stretching it a bit to think she just randomly came to New Orleans and, oops, finds a bunch of nasty relatives.”

Ferris acknowledged her point with a nod. “Alex trusts her.”

Hannah actually trusted Nell when she was around her but when she wasn’t? When she lined up the facts? It got harder. Was Nell super good at hiding who she really was? Or just super good?

“Alex wants to believe her.” She held up a hand. “But—you have a point. It’s just a little easier to see her as—interesting—than believe that some geriatrics from the past have returned to wreak cold—old—vengeance.”

Ferris grinned. “But much more interesting.”

Hannah found she could chuckle. Because he was right. And it would be much better for all of them if Alex’s girlfriend didn’t turn into a Mafia princess.

H
annah felt
a need to see Zach. Funny how that need surfaced when one’s world went a bit askew. She resisted it, resolutely not steering her car in her dad’s direction. Zach couldn’t right it and confession would not be good for her soul right now. And that’s what would happen if she saw Zach while deep in the guilt trip. Didn’t seem right that he’d been MIA for much of her childhood, but he could reduce her to child status with a look. And there was the fact that she had Ferris with her, which would send his grizzled eyebrows up for sure.

Her next thought was that she’d like to talk Nell. “Do I need to connect you with Alex or…?”

“We should go talk to Nell.”

She shot him a look in time to catch a wry grin. Had he read her mind?

“It seems like the next logical step.”

“You think—”

“No. I don’t think she’s involved, but she might know something she doesn’t know she knows.” Perhaps she looked skeptical, because he added, “If this is something reaching out of the past, she’s the only connection left of her parents.”

That they knew about, she amended. “And how do we question her around Alex? About a case neither of us is actually on? A case that will probably be closed by the DA tomorrow?”

“I like a challenge.” His gaze clashed with hers until the light change gave her a reason to look away.

Did he consider her a challenge? Hard to imagine, but a girl could hope. Even as she adjusted direction toward Nell’s digs, she felt resistance. Was she ready to see Alex with her lips still tingling from contact with Ferris’? She’d promised to call him Logan, she reminded herself. And because the name wasn’t coming easy, she hadn’t called him anything since that first time. Sad. So sad. Though—did she want to manage the name adjustment right before she faced Alex? He didn’t have Zach’s level of dad radar, but Alex did have an unsettling knack of noticing things just when one counted on him to be clueless. It was one of the more annoying things about her eldest brother.

She turned onto St. Charles and reflected—not for the first time—on the dichotomy that was New Orleans. Enchanting, frustrating and in the end, clinging. She’d left at sixteen for college. Common sense said she’d make more money, be many degrees cooler, and find parking easier almost anywhere else. She knew what it meant to miss New Orleans. So she’d come home, and not just because of family and food. There was something about her city that dug into the heart and refused to be rooted out, not even by a big old hurricane. Common sense, logic, even self-interest faded away in the face of good jazz, great food, and—she studied the street line with elegant houses from another time with the knowledge that just a few streets over the charm might fade to rundown—and sighed. The Big Easy. She wasn’t always easy, but it didn’t seem to matter to those who called her home. Impossible to explain the why and wherefore when she didn’t understand it.

She spotted a parking spot and did the math on how far it was from the St. Charles mansion where Nell lived and worked. Decided it was close enough to grab, knew she’d probably see something closer—but only if she parked. Weird parking karma was one of those crazy, mystical things about New Orleans. As was being obsessed with parking.

She pulled in, stopped the engine, and looked at Ferris. He grinned.

“I’d have taken it, too.”

They climbed out. The big oak trees flung their shade over them, the light filtering through the leaves in interesting patterns on the uneven sidewalk and giving them the illusion they were cooler. Even exhaust fumes couldn’t completely cover the sweeter smell of grass, flowers and trees.

“Do you think the children tell you something about the parents?” she asked, as she stepped out of the way of a cluster of students.

Ferris arched his brows. “That’s a loaded question.”

“Nature versus nurture.” She was quiet for several steps. “Heavily loaded, I guess. I could expound a bunch of theories, but most people think that if the kids are being what the parents want, then it’s nurture, if not…Nell’s parents seem to make the case for nature.”

Nurture sure hadn’t made them honest. She cast him a sidelong look, curious about his parents. She’d noticed the hint of something in his tone when he’d talked about being an only child. It was a bit of a shock to realize just how little she knew about him, well, about his life before New Orleans. How had the daughter of a cop managed to totally not get the interrogation gene? She had no clue how to dig into his past—at least not while he was alive. She also sucked at small talk. She tended to lose threads when stray comments sent her thoughts off in tangents. She could be dogged, as today proved, when the topic was of sufficient interest. Or when digging through a body. She’d managed to spend a couple of hours with Ferris and not once gotten lost in some stray, scientific thought path. Well, once she got past wondering about how he might die and what he’d look like dead. Did that count as losing the plot or not losing it?

“They certainly lived squeaky clean lives in Wyoming. Not even a traffic ticket. Well,” he amended, “other than the whole fake identity issue.”

“Shades of gray,” Hannah murmured. Honestly living a fabricated life. Did that qualify as squeaky clean? How did Nell feel about it all, she wondered. What would she feel if she found Zach was not who she thought he was? That was hard to wrap her brain around. Zach was Zach—and yet, what if he had helped Nell’s parents, or Ellie and Charlie, to hide? What did he know? Zach’s past could still blow up in her face. And she couldn’t imagine that or figure out how to get him to open up about it. Zach wasn’t a real person. He was her dad. Hannah had observed many dads, good, bad and indifferent. Zach, in her opinion, was a good one. But something, possibly her IQ, hampered their relationship in way that none of the other siblings seemed to experience. Or maybe she just thought about it more than the others. And now they got to add possible secrets into the mix. Zach and secrets? Yeah, more not-real to make her eye twitch.

One block up, they reached the house. Hannah never knew whether to knock or go in, since the home was also Nell’s roommate’s business. The plaque by the imposing door informed the interested that
Blue Bayou Catering
could be found within. Ferris answered her unasked question, by rapping on the door, then opening it.

“Alex? Nell? Sarah?”

It seemed like he knew both women pretty well for first names. The thought formed and then she chided herself for it. Of course he knew them. And well enough for first names. This was New Orleans where strangers called you “baby” or “sugar.” And if you were enough older, they tacked a mister or miss before your first name in the interests of being respectful.

Hannah assumed it was Sarah who poked her head out of her office. They hadn’t actually met before. And she wasn’t Nell, who Hannah had met. Did this count as a deduction?

“They’re in the kitchen.”

“She okay?” Ferris lounged forward, hands in his pockets.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” Sarah said, her gaze tracking past Ferris to Hannah.

Hannah felt immediately self-conscious. Hot from the walk and frumpy around the classically cool and stylishly dressed Sarah.

“You’re…a sister,” she stated, her gaze tracking down, then up.

“Hannah. Oldest sister,” she added in a tone turned painfully prim.

“Wow. First girl after seven boys? No pressure there.” Her smile was laden with a easy charm that was, to Hannah, so very Southern.

Hannah felt her mouth curve in response, even as she wondered how Ferris managed to notice her around Sarah. Blonde, beautiful, nicely shaped skull. Mostly likely to die of natural causes after a long and lovely life. Two of her brothers thought her interesting enough to mention her, though they both claimed it was her cooking they liked. Her gaze flicked down the small boned skeletal structure nicely padded in all the correct places. Yeah, obviously they
loved
her cooking.

Sarah’s smile widened and Hannah realized she’d been giving her what her siblings called her “dissecting look.” She tried to stop, managed a stiff smile that was softened by the kindness in Sarah’s eyes. A bit unusual, in Hannah’s experience, for a popular girl to be kind, at least to someone like her. One almost felt one could be friends with her, a shocking thought for the Baker family geek.

“You’re the forensics specialist, aren’t you?”

Hannah nodded, her smile turning into a grin. “Let me guess. One of them told you I dig through brains?”

Sarah laughed. “They might have mentioned it.”

“I’m impressed you figured out what I actually do.”

“I like CSI shows. And yes, I know they glam it up.”

Hannah chuckled. “I like them, too,” she admitted. “And I don’t always pick them apart. Mostly I just wish for the cool equipment. And that I was paid enough to get the fun clothes Abby wears on
NCIS
.”

“I love that show. Oh, TV budgets,” Sarah said, with a chuckle.

“If only I didn’t need to eat and pay my rent,” Hannah chuckled, though just a bit weakly. The end of the month was always interesting.

Sarah’s grin faded to a speculative look. “I wouldn’t want to insult you or anything, but I sometimes need extra hands with serving? Pay isn’t great, but…”

Hannah straightened a bit, her ears perking up at the sound of extra pay. It’s not like she could do off-duty security work since she couldn’t secure stuff. “I’m really hard to insult. Seven big brothers made sure of that. And just by working at the NOCC I think I’ve indicated a willingness to work for peanuts.”

Sarah grinned again. “Got a card? Or just a number?”

Hannah laughed, patting her pockets. She pulled out a bent card and handed it to her with a wry look. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s got your number.”

“Is this a ‘girls only’ op?” Ferris asked.

To Hannah’s amusement, they looked at him in almost perfect synch.

“I thought you cops all have after hours security gigs?” Sarah finally asked.

“Little harder to get them when your hours keep changing.”

Thanks to Alex ticking off various politicians at regular intervals, they kept getting night shifts at random intervals. Hannah held back a grin.

Sarah held out her hand. “I don’t discriminate.”

A small silence formed after this second exchange of contact info, but not an uncomfortable one.

“Mind if we—” Ferris nodded toward the hallway.

“Be my guest,” Sarah said easily. “Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’ll call you?”

Hannah nodded, surprised to hope Sarah would call and not just for work. As they started down the hall, a chime and a creak announced the opening of the front door.

“Afternoon, Miz Gladys.” Sarah said, her tone businesslike-warm rather than “I know you” warm. “Hope you and yours are well?”

“Fine thank you, Sarah, how are you?” The new arrival responded with the weirdly sweet tone of someone who talked to kids so much she forgot to change it up for adults. There was also a tiny hint of lady of the manor to the serf. Bet she’d smell like cookies, Hannah decided, expensive ones, then felt an immediate need for something salty, as if the sugar had reached out and coated her tongue.

Hannah glanced back, curious to see the face that went with that voice. Framed in the doorway, with the light behind, she cast a long shadow with a body that was plumply round and on the short side, like a character from a children’s book or a movie about one. Then she turned to close the door, presenting her profile. Skull was delineated, thanks to her classic bun. A bit Slavic, Hannah decided. A nicely shaped skull. Wouldn’t have minded a closer look, though Hannah didn’t expect to see it in her professional capacity. She didn’t look like someone likely to be murdered unless she withheld the cookies. Nice zygomatic and her mandible might have been elegant without the jowls. Her pearls were a cliche that sat uneasily just below the jowls. Hannah mentally dubbed her Miz Cookie, because of the extreme sugar vibe, noting she held her chin high to minimize said jowls, and that the makeup was expertly applied. Hannah could tell gravity was winning. It usually did.

“Coming?” Ferris spoke behind her, not impatiently, but a bit curiously. She caught him flicking the woman a look that wasn’t exactly a recoil, but close.

“Yes,” she said, suiting action to word. Not sure why, Hannah glanced back just before rounding a corner and caught Miz Cookie looking at her. Hannah gave the woman an uneasy half smile, as color warmed her cheekbones. She received an amused, rather motherly smile in return. Hannah took the corner, the smile lingering. From the mists of memory, she sort of remembered getting looks something like that from her mother. She looked at Ferris’ back—a not unpleasant exercise—and wondered what it would have been like to have more than the memory of a mother.

Ferris called out before they reached the door. Very tactful. And necessary, she suspected. Both Alex and Nell looked a bit flushed—and like they’d just opened the distance between them. Nell’s gaze was distinctly wary when it met Hannah’s. Not a surprise, Hannah conceded. They’d all been polite, but it was hard to be happy about the relationship. Now, with mom thoughts swirling inside her head, Hannah conceded that Nell had put a lift in Alex’s step. If she made him happy—

And on the heels of this concession she could admit, at least to herself, that it was hard to believe Nell was involved in anything criminal when one looked her in the eyes. If she was faking it, she was an actress of epic proportions. She made the persona of Miz Cookie seem incredibly devious in comparison. Maybe it was the carryover from Sarah—who also trusted Nell enough to bring her into her home and keep her there after the past came spilling out—but Hannah felt like her smile and greeting were warmer than was her wont. It showed at once in a slight softening in Nell’s posture.

“Not sure whether to offer condolences or congrats,” Ferris said, going where Hannah had only dared to think.

Nell laughed—a first in Hannah’s presence—giving her a glimpse into what Alex saw in her.

“You’re not doing the autopsy?” Alex asked.

“I think I mentioned it was my day off? Like fifty times?” Not a surprise Alex did not remember what she told him. She spoke and he heard,
blah, blah, blah
. She rolled her eyes and caught Nell’s grin out of the corner of her eyes.