The Whispering Room

“Okay, spit it out,” she said.

He suddenly looked uneasy. “How long are we going to ignore the elephant in the backseat?”

She pretended not to know what he meant. “What elephant?”

“‘I don’t want to end up like that dead cop.’ That’s what she said her husband told those guys that night, right?”

“I guess.”

Mitchell turned and dropped his chin, as if he were peering at her over the top of invisible glasses. “You guess?”

“All right, yeah, that’s supposedly what Courtland said.”

“So let’s talk about it,” Mitchell said impatiently. “Because I know damn well you’re thinking about it.”

Evangeline closed her eyes as she let her head fall against the back of the seat. It was a relief to finally say it. “What if he was talking about Johnny?”

“You know that’s a long shot, right?”

“Why?”

“Why?” He ticked off the reasons on one hand. “One, Johnny’s not the only cop who’s been killed in this city. Two, we don’t even know that he was talking about an NOPD cop. Three, there’s not a shred of evidence that connects Johnny to Sonny Betts or Paul Courtland.”

“That we know of.”

“Four…four,” he insisted when she tried to talk over him. “Johnny’s death was a random act of violence. Tragic and senseless, but that’s all it was. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know you don’t, but it happens, Evie. New Orleans is a dangerous place. We don’t call tourists ‘walking ATM machines’ for nothing.”

He eased his way around a stalled car, and from Evangeline’s perspective, they seemed to squeeze by with only a hair to spare.

“George Mason was the lead on Johnny’s case. He’s a determined guy. If there was something to find, he would have found it.”

“Not if the crime scene was swept before he got there,” she said.

“Well, hell. Why didn’t I think of that?”

She responded with an irritated glower.

Mitchell sighed. “Okay, humor me, here. Swept by who? Elvis?” He shook his head. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Do you know how you sound?”

She knew exactly how she sounded, but she wasn’t backing down. This had been eating at her for months. “You were the one who brought it up.”

“I was hoping if we talked it through, you’d get how ridiculous this all sounds. If you keep going on like this…” His mouth tightened.

“What?”

He hesitated. “Okay, I didn’t want to get into this, but maybe it needs to be said. You want to know why some of the other cops have a hard time looking you in the eye these days? Why they’re not so crazy to work with you anymore?”

“Uh, because they’re a bunch of macho asstards?”

He ignored that. “It’s because ever since the shooting, you’ve made it clear you think something about the investigation wasn’t kosher. You’ve been letting some none-too-subtle insinuations slip out about a cover-up. Hell, for all I know, you think I’m in on it, too. Whatever it is.”

“You know I don’t think that.”

“The God’s honest truth? I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t have the slightest idea where your head is these days. Kathy said you’d called the house at least a dozen times last week looking for Nathan.”

“That’s an exaggeration. I called twice.”

Nathan Mallet had worked cases with Johnny in the year before his death. They weren’t officially partners, but Nathan would know better than anyone if Johnny had been involved in something dangerous.

But the shooting had shaken him up. He’d been a mess at the funeral and afterward he wouldn’t return Evangeline’s phone calls. Now it seemed he’d dropped off the face of the earth. His wife, Kathy, claimed she hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“I just don’t understand why he won’t talk to me,” Evangeline said.

“No big mystery there. From what I hear, he’s down in New Iberia working on one of his old man’s shrimp boats. I talked to his sister not too long ago, and she said the last time she saw him, he looked terrible. She thinks he may be on dope. Crystal meth, most likely. That shit is everywhere these days.”

“And you don’t find that kind of behavior at all suspect? He hasn’t been the same since Johnny died, and you know it.”

“You try losing a partner and see how it affects you.”

“He and Johnny weren’t partners.”

“Neither are we,” Mitchell said. “Not officially anyway. But I’d hate like hell for something to happen to you. Even if you do exasperate the crap out of me at times.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “What I can’t get over is how Nathan left. He didn’t even resign. He just dropped out of sight.”

“Like that’s unusual around here. We’re the Big Easy, remember?”

She shrugged.

“Besides, Nathan’s always been a flake. Comes from being raised by a drunk. His old man was always half-stoned, even at work. I’m not surprised Nathan has some of the same reliability issues. They say addiction runs in families, don’t they?”

“Yeah, that’s what they say.”

Evangeline decided to let the matter drop, but she still had her own theory regarding Nathan Mallet. His behavior sounded to her like the manifestation of a guilty conscience. Why else would he go to such pains to avoid her?

“I wish you’d just let this go,” Mitchell grumbled.

“I will. Just as soon as I find some answers.”

“And if you don’t find the kind of answers you want?” His worry for her seemed to settle in all the deep grooves and crevices of his careworn face. “You think Johnny would want you obsessing about his death like this?”

Evangeline didn’t answer.

“Hell, no, he wouldn’t. He’d want you to get right back out there and build a life without him.”

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.”

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