21
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
6:50 p.m.
Patti reached Shannon’s just before seven. It’d been a good day. She had contacted Kitten Sweet’s dentist; Dr. Thomas Mancuso did, indeed, have her dental X-rays. Within an hour of contacting him, she had a subpoena duces tecum, since privacy laws prevented him from just handing them over. By mid-afternoon, he had personally delivered them to her; she, in turn, had handed them to the coroner.
Word that a suspect in Sammy’s murder had been apprehended had jackrabbited through the department. The stream of well-wishers had been almost constant and there had been a celebratory air to the day.
The toll of Katrina on the NOPD had been huge. The men and women of the force clearly considered the apprehension of Sammy’s killer a personal victory. A step forward toward the future and away from the devastation wrought by the storm.
Patti parked her Camry and climbed out. Judging by the number of vehicles in the lot, the popular tavern looked particularly busy for a Tuesday night. She saw Spencer’s Camaro and Quentin and Anna’s minivan.
She wasn’t the first to arrive.
Patti crossed to the tavern’s front entrance and stepped inside. A round of applause stopped her in her tracks. She stood in the doorway, caught totally by surprise. A moment later, she was surrounded by well-wishers.
“Congratulations!”
“Way to go, Captain!”
“We got him, Patti. Justice served!”
A beer was shoved into her hand, the first of many. June and Riley Benson were there. June hugged her, tears in her eyes. Riley kissed her cheek and congratulated her. Spencer strolled over, a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Stacy was with him, John Jr. and Quentin trailing behind.
Spencer laughed. “Gotcha, Aunt Patti.”
“I ought to decommission you.”
“The chief’s here, take it up with him.”
As the time passed, the celebration grew louder. The entire Malone clan had turned out, all with their various mates. Patti finally had the occasion to meet Shauna’s boyfriend, whom the family had described as tall, dark and sullen.
An apt description, Patti decided. He’d obviously bought into the whole “tortured artist” thing. But she could see why Shauna was attracted to him-he was incredibly handsome.
It was nearly eight o’clock before she finally had a chance to corner Spencer alone. She filled him in on the events of the day. “I think we have him,” she said. “I had my doubts, you know that, but it’s starting to feel right.”
He hugged her. “You bet your ass it feels right. This SOB is going down. With everything we’ve got, linking him to the victim will be icing on the cake.”
The crowd, most of whom were now two and a half sheets to the wind, began chanting “Song, song!” urging Riley to sing.
In his younger days, Riley had kept them all entertained by writing and singing silly songs about their lives that were a cross between satire, poetry and stand-up comedy.
He strummed his guitar.
“Bad guys beware, Patti O’Shay is there.
She won’t sleep, she won’t rest,
She’ll arrest your butt when you least expect.”
The crowd began to howl and he segued into a rendition of “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”
That song led to several more. Patti made her way to the bar-this time for a cup of Shannon’s strong coffee-aware of the assembled revelers’ reaction to Riley. Tall, with a mop of curly hair and a boyish smile, Riley had charisma. Women flocked to him. Yet, he wasn’t so good-looking that guys resented him. Patti continued to be surprised he was unattached.
Shauna joined her as Riley exited the small stage. Her niece had inherited the Malone family’s dark hair and light eyes, though, like her mother, she was petite.
“What a waste of talent,” Shauna said. “He could have been big.”
Patti smiled at her niece. “Said he didn’t have the drive.”
“That makes sense. I mean, why should he?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “What does he need drive for? He’s got the big-time silver spoon, instead.”
“Do I hear a trace of bitterness?”
“Not at all. ‘No drive’ is just a nice way of saying he’s too lazy, or too spoiled, to go for it.”
Her words surprised Patti. Shauna and Riley had been really good friends.
“I still adore him,” Shauna went on, as if reading her mind. “I’m thrilled to have signed with him. It’s just…The waste of talent breaks my heart. And it’s partly June’s fault.”
“June’s fault? Riley is the one who refuses to grow up. She’d love for him to start standing on his own two-”
“Feet? Get real, Aunt Patti. She can’t bear the thought of letting him go. Every time he’s taken a real step toward making it on his own, she reels him back in. Her latest was buying the gallery.”
“Obviously you’ve only heard his side of the story,” Patti said, defending her friend. “I’ve been listening to June’s side since their parents died eleven years ago. If he’s spoiled, it’s his parents who did it.”
Shauna’s boyfriend interrupted them. He looped an arm around her shoulders. “Ready to go, babe?”
“Rich, have you met my aunt?”
His gaze slid to her along with an easy smile that didn’t feel quite genuine. “Yeah, earlier. Congrats again.”
“Thank you.”
He returned his attention to Shauna. “What do you say? Ready?”
“Not quite.”
“That’s cool. Do you mind catching a ride? I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
Shauna flushed, though with embarrassment or anger, Patti wasn’t certain. “No problem, you go.”
They watched him walk away, then Shauna turned to her. “Don’t start. I’ve heard it all before.”
“Maybe you should pay attention?”
“With all due respect, I’ll tell you what I’ve told the rest of the family. Butt out.”
Spencer and Quentin angled in. “Better than eat shit and die,” Spencer said. “Though, man, is that guy a jerk.”
Before the youngest Malone could respond, Shannon called, “Patti, my darlin’, telephone!”
She made her way around the bar and took the receiver. “Patti O’Shay.”
“Captain Patti O’Shay?”
She frowned. “Yes.”
“Sammy O’Shay’s widow?”
“Yes,” she said, a prickly sensation at the back of her neck.
“FYI, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Franklin. He’s not your guy.”
The line went dead. She stood, holding the receiver to her ear, heart thundering, feeling as if a glass of cold water had just been tossed in her face.
She must have looked it, too, because Spencer and Quentin had come around the bar. “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.
She quickly told them, then turned back to Shannon. “Do you have Caller ID?” When he said he didn’t, she tried another avenue. “Dial star 69.”
He did, and she motioned to Spencer. “Run a check on this number-504-555- 0314.”
“Calling it in,” he said, and crossed to the entryway for quiet. Several moments later, he returned. “Pay phone. Canal Street, downtown.”
“Send a cruiser.”
“Already done.”
“It could have been anybody,” Quentin said. “Someone with an ax to grind against you.”
“Or a crank,” Spencer offered. “That we’ve arrested someone has been all over the news. This is somebody’s idea of a sick joke.”
“Not just anybody,” she said. “Yes, the arrest was in the news. But the suspect’s name wasn’t mentioned.”
“It was a friend of Franklin’s. Trying to plant the seed of doubt.”
“How did he know where to find me tonight?”
They fell silent at that, and she moved her gaze between them. She saw the moment their only remaining option became clear to them.