The Whispering Room

“You go over there half-cocked, you’ll just make things worse.”

“Worse for who? Besides, I can’t just sit by and let him treat Mom like dirt.” She got to her feet. “I can’t do that.”

As she turned toward the door, something caught her eye in one of the bookcases. She walked over for a better look. “Where did you get this?” she asked.

“What, that bird? It’s origami,” he said.

“I know what it is. I want to know where you got it.”

“Someone must have given it to me.”

“You don’t remember who?”

“It just turned up there the other day.”

“And you didn’t wonder where it came from?”

“It’s just a paper bird,” he said. “Why the third degree?”

“Because I’m seeing these damn things everywhere,” she said. “I’m starting to think it’s not a coincidence.”

“Any kindergartener can make them,” Vaughn said. “All you need is a square of paper.”

“I wish I thought it was a kindergartener who’d been sending them to me,” Evangeline muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone sent a mobile to the house made out of these things. Then I found one out at the cemetery. I know this sounds strange, but…”

Vaughan searched her face. “What?”

“I’m wondering if someone is trying to send me a message.”

But what that message was, Evangeline had no idea.

Eighteen

It was midafternoon when Evangeline made the trek out to Pearl River in East Tammany Parish to visit Kathy Mallet, Nathan’s widow. The air cooled as she drove across the lake, and a light wind rolled whitecaps across the green surface of the water.

The two-story brick house was in one of the newer subdivisions along Highway 41. It looked much like all the other houses in the neighborhood, but a pair of wicker rockers and a hanging basket of impatiens on the tiny front porch gave it a homey touch that was in keeping with Evangeline’s memory of Kathy Mallet—an attractive, unpretentious woman who taught second grade.

She pulled to the curb behind two squad cars and got out with the pecan pie she’d bought on her way over. Several cops milled about in the front yard and on the porch, and they nodded as Evangeline walked up to the front door. A couple of them spoke, but most seemed to go out of their way to avoid eye contact with her, and she wondered if word had already spread about her meeting the night before with Nathan.

Kathy’s mother opened the door and as she led Evangeline through the crowded foyer and living room into the kitchen, Evangeline told her who she was.

The woman turned in surprise. “You’re Detective Theroux? Kathy wondered if you’d be dropping by.”

Evangeline glanced around all the strange faces, but didn’t spot Kathy. “Is she here?”

“She’s in her bedroom. If you have a minute, I’ll go back and tell her you’re here.”

“Of course.”

While she was gone, Evangeline made small talk with one of Kathy’s neighbors. Yes, she’d known Nathan. Yes, it was certainly tragic. The consensus seemed to be that, whatever his faults, Nathan had been a good guy.

When the mother came back, she asked if Evangeline would mind going back to Kathy’s bedroom.

“She’s not up to facing all these people right now, but she really wants to see you.”

She pointed to a closed door at the end of a narrow hallway. Evangeline knocked once, didn’t get an answer, then knocked again.

“Come in.”

Kathy was standing at the window, looking out on the backyard. She turned at the sound of the door, and Evangeline could tell the woman had been crying.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said and crossed the room to give Evangeline a quick hug. “I was hoping you would.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. I have to be, don’t I? There are so many things to take care of. The arrangements. All the phone calls.” She paused and drew a breath. “But I don’t have to tell you about all that. You’ve been through it, too.”

“Yes.”

She took Evangeline’s hand and squeezed it. Her reaction surprised Evangeline. The woman was acting as if they were old friends, but in truth, Evangeline barely knew her. They’d met and talked a few times at parties, but that was about it. Now Kathy seemed to feel some sort of closeness or kinship with Evangeline, but perhaps that was only natural, considering their husbands had worked so closely together and now they were both dead.

Shot three times—once in the face, twice in the chest.

Still clutching her hand, Kathy pulled her down to sit on the edge of the bed. She turned, her dark eyes searching Evangeline’s face. “I need to ask you something. And I hope you won’t take any offense.”

“What is it?”

The woman’s face darkened. “All those times you called here looking for Nathan…why did you want to talk to him so badly?”

“I explained all that. I just wanted to ask him some questions about Johnny.”

“But you didn’t think Nathan had anything to do with the shooting, did you?”

“No, of course not. But they worked a lot of cases together that last year. I thought he might know if Johnny was working on something dangerous.”