The Whispering Room

She drew a breath and said quietly, “If the situation were reversed, he’d be doing the same thing I am.”

“You sure about that? The Johnny Theroux I knew would make sure his kid was his main priority.”

“You think I’m neglecting J.D.?” Her voice sounded more hurt than she wanted it to.

“I never said that. But one of these days, that boy is going to need a daddy, Evie.”

She stared at him in outrage. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

His shrug was anything but apologetic. “Call me old-fashioned, but I happen to think a boy needs a male role model. And no offense, but you’re not—”

“Not what?” she demanded. “Getting any younger?”

He grinned. “I was going to say, you’re not taking care of yourself. Look at you. You’re as skinny as a fence rail.”

“So? I’m also as healthy as a horse.”

“Physically, maybe,” he muttered.

“I heard that.”

His grin broadened. “It’d do you good to get out more. Have some fun, is all I’m sayin’.” His tone turned sly. “A blind man could see that Tony Vincent’s got a thing for you. Would it kill you to throw the man a bone? Maybe have dinner with him or something?”

“What are you, his pimp?”

Mitchell chuckled. “You could do a lot worse.”

“I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation with you. It’s ridiculous. We should be talking to Sonny Betts right now.”

“That’s going to be tricky. The feds consider him their territory.”

Evangeline shrugged. “He’s a person of interest in a homicide investigation. He’s our territory now.”

“Okay, but if we’re taking a ride out there today, I need some fortification first. How about lunch? I’m in the mood for catfish. Let’s go to Dessie’s.”

Mitchell let her out in front of the restaurant while he drove around the block to find a parking place.

As Evangeline stood in the shade of the colonnade, she spotted a dark gray sedan in the traffic on Decatur. She wondered for a moment if it was the same gray car they’d seen at the crime scene that morning, if they were being tailed by the feds.

But when Mitchell came whistling around the corner, she decided not to mention it to him. He’d probably think she was starting to obsess about that, too.

“Hey,” he said. “Give me a day or two and I’ll see if I can find out where Nathan is staying. The old lady’s pretty tight with his sister.”

Evangeline smiled gratefully, her previous irritation evaporating. “I owe you one.”

“Damn straight you do. Which is why I’m gonna let you buy me lunch today.”

“Gee, thanks.”

As they walked up to the restaurant, she turned and glanced at the street. The gray car was nowhere in sight.

Seven

The high brick wall that surrounded Sonny Betts’s sprawling stucco mansion was all but hidden by twenty-foot-tall crepe myrtle trees that also concealed surveillance cameras. The wind was blowing off the lake, and as Mitchell pulled the car up to the scrolled iron gates, the scent of oleander drifted through the open window.

A guard with a clipboard came over to the car and leaned down so that he could see into the window. He was tall and swarthy with the forearms and neck of a former linebacker.

“Can I help you folks?”

Mitchell and Evangeline hauled out their IDs. “I’m Detective Hebert and this is my partner, Detective Theroux. We need to talk to Betts.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“Just tell him we’re here,” Mitchell said. “He’ll want to see us. Unless, of course, there’s a reason he wouldn’t want to cooperate with a homicide investigation.”

The man smirked. “Homicide, eh? Who died?”

“Open the gate, asshole. Or else the first call I make will be to the Times-Picayune. I’ve got a buddy over there who’s just itching to put your boss back on the front page. Unless he likes the publicity, nosy reporters poking through his trash and all that, he’ll talk to us.”

With an angry glare, the guard lifted the cell phone to his ear and walked away from the car. A moment later, the gates slid open and Mitchell drove through.

“Nice bluff,” Evangeline said as they pulled up to the house.

Mitchell shot her a glance. “What bluff? My buddy writes the obituaries at the Times-Picayune. Like I said, he’s just itching to do a real nice write-up on Sonny Boy.”

Betts was out by the pool watching a blonde in a turquoise bikini swim laps. When he saw Mitchell and Evangeline, he walked over to the edge and waited for the young woman to hitch herself out of the water. Then he wrapped a fluffy white towel around her shoulders and gave her a pat on the ass.

As she sauntered toward the pool house, she gave Evangeline a sideways scrutiny, sizing her up with one disdainful glance.

Betts was dressed in white trousers, sandals and a dark blue shirt left unbuttoned to expose a smooth, muscular chest. He was just shy of middle age, with brown hair, brown eyes and a mouth that tilted at the corners in a perpetual sneer. A silver medallion hung from a chain around his neck and glistened in the sun as he turned and watched their approach.