Ghost Walking (A Maggie York Paranormal Mystery Book 1) (28 page)

“My informant doesn’t know you. It’s best if I go alone.” He paused. “Maggie, I’ll be fine. I haven’t been targeted.”

“Yet.”

“I’ll keep it short. I promise. But I have an idea who Wernier was meeting that morning. I hope to confirm the identity and find a way to make contact.”

“Ok, but call if I can help.” Maggie bit her lip to keep from asking who and where he was going. He couldn’t tell her over the phone without the risk of compromising his source.

“Be careful, Josh.” The words they hadn’t yet said hovered on her lips, but all she added was, “Good luck.”

* * *

Brandt’s lips curved as he slipped his phone in his pocket. Maggie sounded tense, worried. But it was the small hesitation that caught his attention. Had she almost said she loved him? Did she mean it? Is that what he wanted? She brought a lot of complications with her. His smile broadened, and he chuckled. Who was he kidding? Hell, yes, he wanted her. When things were more settled, he intended to tell her so. Good incentive to get back to work and get the current mess straightened out.

He opened the driver’s door of his car parked outside District 13, shed his jacket and tie, and tossed them inside. Before sliding behind the wheel, he stuck his badge in his pants pocket and pulled out his shirttail to cover the Beretta. All business now, he drove toward Jackson Square.

Cafe du Monde was a very public place for such a meeting, but it was always crowded with all types of people sampling its famous beignets. Neither he nor his informant would stand out as unusual.

He spotted Tessa right away. She sat at a table on the right, and the sugar on her lips said she hadn’t waited to order.

“Hey, big guy. You need to smile more,” she said by way of greeting. Her eyes slanted saucily in a heart-shaped face. Although Tessa was a hooker, she didn’t look it. Perhaps it was her reserved, oriental upbringing, but she didn’t advertise her assets in public. She didn’t need to; there was no question a sexy woman hid under the blue T-shirt and faded jeans.

“It’s been a bad week,” he said, taking the chair across from her.

“Yeah, I heard. Sorry.” She’d lost the flirty tone.

He liked that about her. Despite the ugliness and abuse in her life—or maybe because of it—Tessa had a good heart. She genuinely cared about others.

“Appreciate that. So would his wife and two little kids. It’s why I need your help. He’d been using an informant. I found the phone number in his file.”

“Not my number,” she said, lowering her voice even further. “I only talk to you.”

“I know that, Tessa, but once you called on a different phone. Borrowed, I think, from a female friend.”

She stiffened and pursed her lips. “Even if I did, I can’t tell you anything about her. It wouldn’t be safe.”

Her. Brandt hid his eager response. So Tessa knew exactly who he meant. At least she hadn’t stone-walled him. Maybe he could make her understand.

“How about if you just listen?” He told her about Wernier going to meet someone the morning he died, and he told her why. “If Castile’s operating inside the PD, we’re all in trouble. You want him running everything in the city? You know what he’s like.”

She turned her head away, then kept her eyes lowered as she picked at a fingernail. “Sure I know. Your dead cop must have been quite a talker. Castile or one of his goons would kill my friend if he found out she’d gone near the cops.”

“He may already know—or will soon.” Her head snapped up to stare at him, her eyes wide. He told her about the missing notes. “I was half afraid he’d already found her. Have you talked with her recently?”

“I got a text last night. She’s out of town. Won’t be back until Saturday.”

“Then we have time to protect her. Will you get in touch? Warn her? And ask her to talk to me?”

She met his eyes, determination in her voice. “Oh, I’ll warn her for sure, but I’m telling her to stay away, relocate. She can’t come back to New Orleans. Ever. But…” Tessa stopped and scrunched her forehead in thought. “I’ll have her tell me the info you want. If she does—and she will—I’ll pass it to you.”

Brandt nodded. It was the best he could hope for, and he realized the chance she was taking. If her boyfriend got wind of this, he’d probably beat her to death unless Castile thought of something more painful first.

Before he left, Brandt bought two orders to go, handed one to Tessa with a wink and a hundred dollar bill inside, and took the other home for Maggie.

* * *

Too restless to concentrate on paperwork after Josh’s call, Maggie checked with Annie for an update on Merriweather. But her friend hadn’t found anything new online, and Maggie decided it was time for a little fieldwork. Surely she could ask Merriweather about the Otley case without raising red flags, and she’d do her assessment of him while they talked. She might even drop a hint about lab irregularity and see how he reacted. It would be better than sitting at home worrying about Josh.

She considered calling to tell him where she was going, but it was doubtful he’d pick up during a meeting with a CI. She compromised by leaving a note stuck to the computer screen and virtuously shrugged into her lightweight body armor.

Maggie parked in front of the Medical Examiner’s office, got out, and jerked her head up when a familiar voice called her name.

“Hey, Maggie, this is the last place I thought I’d see you.” Ray Coridan sauntered toward her, a smile on his face.

She forced a smile and stopped to wait for him, feeling uncomfortable that her former partner was still on the suspect list. But she hadn’t been able to clear him yet. “Likewise. Do you have a new homicide case?”

He shrugged. “Looks like a suicide, but I need to hear the doc’s verdict. Gunshot to the temple. Why are you here?”

“Just a question on an old case. Nothing important.”

His gaze sharpened. “You’re following up while on medical leave?”

Damn. Now she’d tweaked his curiosity. “I’m bored, Coridan. Captain said I could tie up some loose ends.”

“Oh. One of our cases?”

“Nope. Something the captain gave me. I really shouldn’t talk about it. I’m pretty sure it’s just a clerical error. No need to smear the officer involved.”

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the screen. Annie. She waved the phone at him with a grin. “Annie’s calling about her hot date last night. Sorry, but girl talk trumps shoptalk.”

“OK.” Coridan waved good-naturedly and entered the police annex that housed the ME’s office.

“Timely call, Annie. What do you have for me?”

“Forget Merriweather. His wife’s been really ill. Medical bills account for a lot of his debt, and the deposits are from insurance payments and the liquidation of retirement assets to cover her expenses.”

“Wow, timely in more than one way. I was just about to interview him, annoy him for no reason, and embarrass myself. Saved my skin, girlfriend.”

She drove home, hoping Josh would be there. When he wasn’t, she again resisted the temptation to call. If he didn’t answer, she’d worry even more. Another hour. If she hadn’t heard by then… Maggie brewed a new pot of coffee, returned to her lists, and waited fretfully until she heard a key in the lock and Josh strode into the room…dark and sexy as ever…and very much alive.

* * *

After Maggie’s enthusiastic greeting—which had caught him by surprise—Josh spent the rest of the afternoon and evening helping her work down the long list of cops. It was slow going. Most officers kept as much information as they could out of the public domain. Annie helped until she had to go to her break-up meeting with Charlie, but they’d only vetted seventeen since scratching Jenson’s name. Eighty-five still remained on the suspect list when Josh’s phone rang at eleven that night.

“Brandt, it’s me.” Tessa’s voice was a hushed whisper. “I can’t talk long. My boyfriend’s asleep, and I’m outside on the porch. I talked with R— my friend. She wasn’t there when Wernier was shot. She’d already met with him and left. But the info she had was on another cop. She gave Wernier a photo that morning, one she’d snapped on her phone when the guy met with Castile. I guess it’s blurred, but Wernier thought he could fix it or something.”

“He didn’t have a cell phone or photo on him.”

“All I know is what she said. Maybe he lost it.”

Or someone took it before the cops arrived. The autopsy had indicated Wernier was dead well before the incident was reported. Time enough for an accomplice or a street punk to have gone through Wernier’s pockets. “Does she still have a copy on her phone?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask. But not tonight. I have to go.”

“Did she give you a description?”

“No. Just that it was a guy—” Brandt heard a man call her name in the background. An angry exchange started, and Tessa disconnected.

Josh tightened his hand on the phone. Damn. Would she be all right? Her so-called boyfriend had put her in the ER at least twice that he knew of. But Brandt knew better than to call her back. If he didn’t hear from her again within twenty-four hours, he’d put out some careful feelers…unless they got a dead body call.

He flexed his shoulders and turned to meet Maggie’s gaze. “It’s a cop. Wernier’s snitch confirmed it.” He repeated the gist of the conversation.

“I feel sick,” she said. “I didn’t want it to be a cop.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Anybody else. In spite of concentrating on this list, I kept hoping.”

Maggie heaved a resigned sigh and picked up the master sheet. “Since it’s a man, we can cross off some additional names. Only three of those we already did were women.” She went down the rows, drawing a line through every female officer’s name. “That drops us to sixty-seven possibles.” She looked up at him. “But we need to grab some sleep and start fresh in the morning. I’m dead on my ass, and so are you.”

“You go on to bed. I think I’ll take a drive.”

Maggie cocked her head at him. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you? Tessa, I mean.”

“It’s the damned boyfriend, one of Castile’s guys. He’s an abuser, but she won’t leave him. I thought I’d drive down her street.”

“Is this the CI who ratted me out?”

“Does it matter?”

She got up, grabbed her gun and bag. “No. Just curious. But I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll check on her together. My car is less conspicuous.”

Tessa’s neighborhood was quiet, but lights blazed from her second-floor apartment. Not a good sign. Brandt slowed the car to a crawl, peered at the closed curtains, and rolled down his window. No shouting or screaming. No police cars. Should he risk a call?

“Isn’t that a woman walking down the street?” Maggie asked, pointing a block ahead.

“Yes, and it could be Tessa.” He sped up and pulled alongside. When Tessa turned to look at them, and he saw no visible injuries, he let out a silent breath of relief. He brought the car to a halt, and Maggie lowered her window.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Tessa threw a nervous look back at the house before leaning down to peer in the car window. Unexpectedly, her lips held a rueful smile. “I’m fine. But Alonzo’s not so good. He’d been drinking, slapped me a couple of times. Thought I was sneaking out on him. When he grabbed my hair to belt me a good one, I hit him with a skillet.”

Brandt kept a straight face. “Do I need to call the paramedics or the coroner?”

“Oh, he ain’t hurt that bad. When I left he was sitting on the floor crying like a baby and holding his head. I’m going to my sister’s for the night. He’ll sober up by tomorrow.”

And then he’d say he was sorry, and she’d take him back. Brandt had heard it all before. Domestic calls had an unfortunate pattern. “Get in the backseat, and we’ll take you.”

Once she was inside, he introduced the women. Tessa gave them the directions and on the way the two women talked briefly. By the time they arrived at the sister’s, Maggie had given Tessa the name of a local shelter.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Maggie said as Tessa got out.

The other woman’s face clouded. “I know. I’ll think about it.”

They watched until her sister opened the door and let her in, and then drove home. An hour after leaving their apartment, they were back and climbing into bed. Maggie was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow, and Brandt cradled an arm around her. He knew he’d sleep better now. What surprised him was Maggie had instinctively understood.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Maggie’s internal alarm clock woke her at three. For a minute or two she didn’t move, savoring the warmth of Josh’s arms. He filled her heart as much as he currently filled her life. She was afraid to think about it too much for fear it might disappear.

She finally lifted his arm enough to slip out of bed, tiptoed across the room, and grabbed her clothes in the dark. She dressed by the city lights shining in his living room window, eased the front door open, and sped down the hallway to the elevator.

Part of their assignment from Captain Jenson was to find Castile, and she only knew one person, rather entity, who could do that. She had to talk to Hurst.

She stepped outside the building and closed her eyes. “Bobby, where are you?” she whispered. “Show yourself.” She repeated the calling twice more and was deciding where to start looking for him when his ghostly, mostly-disembodied figure appeared across the street. He was losing substance every day. She lifted a hand in acknowledgement and started toward the curb.

“Maggie, what are you doing out here?”

She jumped and spun around to face Josh, hoping her guilt and chagrin didn’t show.

“Geez, you startled me.” She opened her mouth to produce some lame excuse—like she’d stepped out for fresh air—but his worried frown stopped her. She couldn’t do it. “Don’t ask what you don’t want to know, Josh. I’m sorry I woke you. I thought I’d be back before you knew I was gone. Go back to bed. I’ll be in soon.”

“That’s no answer. Are you meeting someone? Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that, but…
he
doesn’t.”

His frown deepened. “Exactly who are we talking about?
Oh
.”