You and I both know you never really throw that stuff away, Raleigh argued.
Addlestein shrugged helplessly.
Great. Getting his arrest record expunged was supposed to help Mitch. Now it was biting him in the butt.
What about Larry? Mitch asked suddenly.
Who? Raleigh and the detective asked at the same time.
Crazy Larry. He was with us that night.
The cop suddenly looked more alert. First Ive heard of it.
I never mentioned it before because I didnt want to drag him into the car theft thing. And, lets face it, being a known associate of Crazy Larry wasnt likely to help me twelve years ago. But now it could.
Youre talking about Larry Montague.
Yeah, thats him. You should talk to him. He was with Robby after I went home. And if he knew something, even if he just saw something, its not likely he would have gone voluntarily to the police.
Addlestein scribbled something on his pad. Last I knew, Larry Montague was homeless. He floats in and out of the area. Ill talk to himif I can find him.
I can locate him, Mitch said. Its what Im good at. Addlestein knew that. Hed been a young detective on the force when Mitch had worked for the CBPD. Give me his full name and his social and Ill find him.
I can do that, but I doubt youll have any luck tracing him by computer. Im betting the guy flies under the wire. Off the grid.
As most homeless people did. But it was worth a try. Even homeless people left traces in cyberspace from time to timearrest records, usually, but sometimes admissions information in hospitals or homeless shelters.
Is there anything else? Raleigh asked. Because if not, we have things to do.
Addlestein pursed his lips and ran his palm over his silver crew cut. He didnt want to let Mitch go, but it seemed pretty obvious he didnt have enough to hold him. Score one for the good guys. Mitch couldnt wait to get out of this place and breathe some fresh air.
He would take Raleigh and Beth out for a late lunch, and they could be home by nightfall. It was nice of them to work so hard to exonerate him. He was lucky to work for a company that appreciated not just the contributions he made to the bottom line, but valued him as a person.
If the Conch & Crab was still open, hed take them there. Freshest seafood in all of South Louisiana and a jukebox filled with 1970s
Excuse me, Lieutenant Addlestein? A young female uniformed cop was at the door. Could you step out here a moment?
Looking impatient, Addlestein did as the woman asked. He was gone several minutes.
I dont like this, Raleigh said after a long, uncomfortable silence among the three of them. He was about to cut you loose.
Mitch didnt like it, either. A persistent itch had started at the base of his spine, a visceral, instinctual cue that told him something wasnt right.
When the door opened and Addlestein returned, he wore a smug grin. Bad news was coming.
Seems that stolen Monte Carlo was located. Sunk in the bayou about a hunnert yards from where Robbys body was buried. And guess what was found in the glove box?
Were not here to play guessing games, Raleigh said tartly. What?
A .22 handgun.
What caliber bullet killed Robby? Beth immediately asked.
Thats unknown. Cause of death couldnt be determined. But a hole in the skull suggested a gunshot wound. A jury wont care about that. The gun was rusted to hell, but they got a serial number off it and ran it through the database. Guess whose name came up?
Mitch shrugged. I never owned a gun in my life, so it cant be mine.
Not yours. It belonged to Willard C. Bell.
It took a moment for the shock to sink in. Oh, Lord, he was so screwed. He could hear the prison doors clanging shut and the key tinkling as it fell down a gutter.
Whos that? Beth asked.
You want to tell them, Addlestein said, or should I?
Willard C. Bell was my father.
BETHFELTHELPLESS and clueless as she watched two police officers put handcuffs on Mitch and take him away. If this was a nightmare for her, how must he be feeling?
He hadnt been able to offer any explanation for his fathers gun ending up in the stolen cars glove box. He recalled that his dad had owned a couple of handguns along with a selection of shotguns and rifles for hunting, but he claimed not to have seen or even thought about his dads guns in years.
I never touched my dads guns, Mitch had insisted. Talk to my mom. She might know what happened to the guns. But my dad sure as hell never gave me a firearm. He always said I didnt have the temperament to own a gun.
Mitchs denial didnt hold much weight with the cops. They typed up a warrant immediately, and in a matter of minutes Mitch had been in custody.
What now? Beth had almost wailed when she and Raleigh had been left alone in the room. Daniel will get him out, right? He cant stay in jail, he used to work for the police. It might not be safe
Raleigh cut her off with a glare, and Beth clamped her mouth closed. They were still in an interrogation room; anyone could be listening, and probably was.
Lets go, Raleigh said. We have work to do.
She said nothing more until they were in the car. She started the engine and rolled down the windows of her Volvo. Though it was still early spring, the weather was already warm and muggy, the air fragrant with a mixture of magnolia, ocean and oil refinery like nowhere else in the world.
Beth, how well do you really know Mitch?
That was a very good question. Until yesterday, Id have said I knew him pretty well. I mean, weve worked together for five or six years, and the past few months weve even hung out after hours a few times. But I didnt know he had a half brother or an arrest record. I didnt know his parents were never married, which I guess they werent if Mitch and his dad have different last names. I didnt know about the history of f-fighting.
What do you talk about? Raleigh asked.
Wellnothing very personal, I guess. We talk shop. Computers and science and evidence, and true-crime books and TV shows. And pizzawe both have a thing for pizza. I knew he had family in Louisiana, but he never got specific.
Raleigh put the car in Reverse, but she didnt back out of the parking place. Beth could see the gears in her brain were turning.
What are you getting at? But Beth had an uncomfortable feeling she already knew.
People can compartmentalize their lives. A guy can be funny and kind at work, then go home and beat the crap out of his wife and kids every night. Ive seen it.
Oh, Raleigh. Beth was horrified at the direction of Raleighs conversation. You think he did it.
I dont know what to think, except the evidence suddenly got pretty compelling. Think about it. Who had reason to sink that car in the bayou?
Someone who thought he could be tied to the car.
Mitch might have known, or suspected, hed been caught on video in the parking lot.
But anyone trying to cover up the murder would have sunk the car, hoping everyone would believe Robby had left town, Beth pointed out, trying not to sound pathetically desperate. Just because shed been crushing on Mitch for months, was she grasping at straws? Failing to see the obvious?
But anyone trying to cover up the murder would have sunk the car, hoping everyone would believe Robby had left town, Beth pointed out, trying not to sound pathetically desperate. Just because shed been crushing on Mitch for months, was she grasping at straws? Failing to see the obvious?
Im just trying to think like a prosecutor, Raleigh said. I havent written him off yet.
But you think its possible he did it.
You dont?
She took a deep breath. No, Raleigh. Call it womens intuition or gut instinct
or wishful thinking?
No. At least, I dont think so. He rejected me. If anybody has an ax to grind, its me. Whether Mitch is guilty or innocent, in jail or out, well never be together inin that way. But I dont think he did it. I dont.
Okay. Just checking. His arraignment and bail hearing are tomorrow morning. Im sure Daniel will post the bond.
Even when he hears about the gun?
Yes. Remember, Daniel is the man arrested for a murder he didnt commit, with his fingerprints all over the murder weapon. He knows physical evidence isnt the end of the story.
I sure hope it isnt. What if they wont let him out on bond? Sometimes they dont, for a serious crime.
Well get him out somehow. Meanwhile, how do you feel about returning tomorrow with me to lovely Coots Bayou?
Ive got nothing pressing, Beth said. Cassie could cover the bases tomorrow. But why do you need me?
FranklyI need you to deal with Mitch. You have a way of getting through to him, and he seems to be on his best behavior when youre around.
If you think so.
Good, its settled. Meanwhile, Ill need to find Mitch another lawyer. While Im flattered by his faith in me, and Im licensed to practice in Louisiana, I think he needs someone local who knows which cops and judges are corrupt.
Youre thinking of bribing someone? Beth asked, only half kidding.
Beth, of course not. I want to know which might have already been bribed, who owes favors to whom, that sort of thing. This whole affair smells like something is going on behind the scenes. Grudges, revenge, you know.
Agreed. First place we should look for a grudge is Mitchs half brother. He seemed way too complacent about his brothers arrest. Sergeant Dwayne Bell hadnt been involved directly in Mitchs interrogationthat wouldnt be kosher even in a backwater town like Coots Bayou. But hed been hanging around, lurking.
You know who would give some background on that situation? Mitchs mother. Lets go pay her a friendly visit. She might want to know her son is in jail.
MYRA? SOMEONEHERE to see you.
The man who answered the door was neatly dressed in pressed khakis and a plaid shirt, and he looked mildly annoyed to be bothered by strangers in the middle of the afternoon. A black Labrador retriever mix hid behind his masters leg, peeking out and looking worried.
Mitchs mother lived on the outskirts of town on a little piece of land that backed up to a creek. It was kind of pretty, especially this time of year when everything was green and blooming.
The small house was run-down. It had once been painted white with brown trim, but it desperately needed a new coat of paint. The roof appeared to be patched and repatched, and several boards on the creaky front porch were rotted.
But someone had tried to make the place homey. A huge pot of blooming geraniums sat near the front steps, and a morning glory vine added a note of cheerfulness to the sagging porch railing. The front door sported a straw wreath festooned with small wooden ducks and bunnies peeking out from silk flowers.
From the little Beth had gathered during Mitchs interrogation, she knew hed grown up pretty poor.
The woman who appeared at the door looked too old to be Mitchs mother. Her shoulder-length hair had been dyed reddish-gold, but a good inch of brown and gray roots had grown out. She wore a garish shade of orange lipstick, and her low-cut blouse and tight jeans were less than flattering.
Her shoulders slumped in that peculiar way of people who had lost any enthusiasm they once had for living.
The man lingered nearby. Mitch had made no mention of a stepfather in the picture, but these two appeared to be a couple.
Im Myra LeBeau. Can I help you with something?
LeBeau, not Delacroix. This man probably was her husband, then. Beth and Raleigh introduced themselves and explained that they worked with Mitch at Project Justice.
Myra, no idiot, immediately guessed there was a problem. Her hand fluttered at her breast. Has something happened to Mitch?
Im sorry to have to tell you this, but hes in jail.
Myra actually looked relieved. In jail. Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were going to tell me he was dead. I mean, jails not good, of course Wont you come in? Its warm for this time of year. Ill get you some iced tea.
They stepped into the creaky little house, and Myra showed them into her small kitchen and asked them to sit down. So what trouble has Mitch gotten himself into this time? I thought we were past all that, but some boys never grow up. His daddy sure didnt. A surliness entered her voice at the mention of Willard Bell, but by the time she brought glasses of tall, sweetened tea to the table, her smile was firmly in place.
The husband, who hadnt bothered to introduce himself, had returned to the living room, where he was watching a game show on TV. Apparently a grown stepson in jail wasnt his concern.
So whatd he do? she asked again.
He didnt do anything, Beth said, a note of challenge creeping into her voice, but Raleigh shot her a warning look and she clamped her mouth closed.
Theres no easy way to say this, Mrs. LeBeau. Hes been arrested for murder. They think he killed Robby Racine.
Myra, halfway to joining them at the table, fell the rest of the way into her chair, a hand to her mouth stifling a gasp. A genuine reaction, Beth thought, though she was no body language expert.
I heard about the body they found on my landit was Robby?
Raleigh nodded. He was killed soon after he and Mitch stole a car together. Probably that same night.
Why do they think it was Mitch? He and Robby were friends! Theres no wayno way my baby would do something like that. And, anyway, all those years ago, I didnt own that land. It belonged to my great-aunt, Robbys grandmother. Robby and Mitch were second cousins.
So the land was connected to Robby, not Mitch. Raleigh pulled her phone out of her pocket and made a few quick notes. Thats one damning piece of evidence we can easily discount.
Beth couldnt stand it anymore. Mrs. LeBeau, Mitchs father owned some guns. Do you know what happened to them?
At the mention of guns, Myras demeanor changed dramatically. She sat up straighter and started fidgeting with a paper napkin. I dont know. Im sure I dont know. I never touched his guns. She looked over her shoulder at her husband, still watching TV. Davy! Do you know what happened to Willards guns?
I have no clue, he answered in a deadpan. Never saw em.
Do you own any firearms yourself, Mrs. LeBeau? Raleigh asked casually.