Body of Lies

  "Well, Logan paid me in advance. I may as well stick around for a few days." He smiled. "You'll find me very useful. I'm fabulous company, I'm a great cook, and I promise I won't give you food poisoning. What else could you ask?"

  "I don't need company. I'll be working."

  "Not until you get over this case of food poisoning. The doctor won't release you until tomorrow, and said you'll be weak as a kitten for a few days."

  She could believe it. She had just woken up but she could hardly hold her eyes open.

  Galen's gaze narrowed on her face. "If you won't accept my services, maybe I should call Quinn and tell him about your bout with food poisoning."

  And Joe would be on the next flight here. She couldn't face that right now. "Blackmail."

  He nodded cheerfully. "Do it well, don't I?"

  Oh, what the hell. It didn't make any difference. "You can stay, if you promise not to tell Joe about this."

  "Done." He stood up and headed for the door. "Now, I'll let you rest. Paul Tanzer is out in the waiting room. He was pretty insistent about seeing you, but I held him off. Do you want me to send him in?"

  She shook her head. "Tiresome. Marie called him..." What was the word? "Trou du cul. What does that mean?"

  He chuckled. "Asshole. I'm beginning to realize your Marie isn't as thick-witted as I thought."

  "She's very smart. She'll wonder where I am when she comes to the house in the morning. Will you tell her?"

  He nodded as he opened the door. "I'll take care of it. Do you know where she lives?"

  "No."

  "Then I'll ask Tanzer."

  "Galen."

  He looked back at her.

  "It wasn't you who found me and brought me to the hospital, was it?"

  He shook his head. "I came to the hospital with Paul Tanzer. Logan found out from Melton that Tanzer was his contact here, and I'd just had him routed out of bed when he got the call."

  "Then how did I get to the hospital?"

  "You don't remember?"

  "The last thing I remember was being out on the balcony and thinking I was going to die. Then there was a man ... dark hair."

  "That figures. The emergency room people said you were admitted by a small, dark man who handed them your purse with a card that had Paul Tanzer's name and phone number. He told them to check for food poisoning. He left before they could get any other information. Recognize the description?"

  Eve shook her head. "I only remember him carrying me and telling me not to go to sleep."

  "How did he get in? Was the house unlocked?"

  "I locked the front door myself, and Marie said she was going to lock the back door. She might have forgotten."

  "Maybe." Galen shrugged. "And maybe he was a Good Samaritan who heard you calling for help and broke in. I'll check the doors. We may hear from him again. Good Samaritans who don't expect compensation are rare these days." He lifted his hand. "See you. I'll pick you up tomorrow and take you back to the apartment."

  He was gone.

  Good Samaritan. If what Galen said was true, he had probably saved her life.

  But how had he gotten into the apartment? Well, maybe Marie had forgotten. She'd ask her tomorrow. She was too sleepy now...

  Chapter Four

  The small house where Marie Letaux lived was on a twisting street on the south side of Baton Rouge. Like the rest of the houses on the street, it was old but washed to pristine cleanness, and a pot of pink geraniums bloomed on the doorstep.

  She didn't answer Galen's first knock. Nor the second or third.

  He waited for a few minutes and then tried the door.

  Locked.

  He examined the lock. Piece of cake. It took him only a few minutes to spring it.

  He entered a living room that contained comfortable furniture, but nothing ostentatious. He noticed there were more geraniums on the coffee table. Several family pictures in matching maple frames stared at him from the bookcase across the room. The overall impression was that this was a nice house occupied by nice people.

  But Galen's experience was that things were rarely as they appeared to be. He walked over to the desk and went through it. Letters with a New Orleans return address. A checkbook and savings account passbook, a receipt for the rental of a safety-deposit box dated two days ago. More pictures, unframed, showing a young man in a green T-shirt.

  He closed the drawer and moved across the room toward the far door that must lead to the kitchen. He could see the white refrigerator with small colorful magnets against the far wall. Marie Letaux obviously had a taste for whimsy and showed it in little things with which she surrounded—

  He stopped inside the door, his gaze drawn to the woman crumpled on the floor beside the stove.

  A small, dark-haired woman with hair swept back in a chignon, her eyes wide open, as if she was staring up at him.

  Probably Marie Letaux.

  Undoubtedly dead.

  -------------------

  "I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened on your first night here." Senator Kendal Melton's first words were spoken with heartfelt sincerity.

  "I don't think it would have been any more pleasant on any succeeding night," Eve said dryly. "No, of course not. How do you feel?" "Lousy. My ribcage is so sore I can hardly breathe." Eve sat up in bed and gazed at him appraisingly. He appeared far more cosmopolitan than Tanzer. Melton's gray-streaked hair sported white sideburns, complementing a tan that looked pure West Palm Beach. "But I'm better than I was this morning. I'll probably be able to work tomorrow."

  "I hope so." He came closer to the bed. "Was Paul Tanzer helpful? I told him to give you the VIP treatment."

  "He was very kind."

  . "It's our intention to give you all the support you can possibly want."

  "Then tell me what I'm supposed to be working on. I'm getting very tired of all this hush-hush stuff. I took the job; now fill me in."

  "I'll tell you all I know, but I'm afraid it won't be as much as you'd like. Hell, I don't know as much as I'd like. I'm asking you to determine the identity of a skeleton discovered quite recently in the swamps south of here."

  "Discovered by whom? And why wasn't the skeleton turned over to the local police?"

  "Sheriff Bouvier of Jefferson parish got a tip about the possible identity of the skeleton and its location. He was the one who excavated it. The sheriff is a personal friend and notified me. He gave me full permission to try to discreetly discover the identity before he turned in his report. He knew the discovery might present difficulties for me with the media if it wasn't handled correctly."

  "Why? Whose skull is this supposed to be?"

  He hesitated.

  "Senator Melton, remind me to tell you about the Miami drug lord who asked me to do a reconstruction on a skull that—"

  "No, no. It's nothing like that. The only reason that we're trying to keep it under wraps is that we don't want to raise false hopes. We believe he may be Harold Bently." He paused. "You don't remember the press on Bently?"

  She shook her head.

  "Well, it was over two years ago, but there was a big furor over his disappearance. Bently was a candidate for the senatorial seat I now hold. He was supposed to be a shoo-in, but vanished four months before election day. He was a solid citizen, a man who wouldn't just disappear of his own accord, so foul play was suspected. But no clues were found. His disappearance has hung like a cloud over my career and I want to lay it to rest."

  "Because you may want to run for president?"

  "That's in the hands of Providence, but I do want to keep climbing. Is that so strange?"

  "No."

  "Then help me out. The Bently file has remained open, but nothing has surfaced ... until this skeleton was found."

  "Have you told his family?"

  Melton shook his head. "Not yet. As I said, I was afraid to raise false hopes. Please believe me. I'm not totally selfish. Sure, I want to protect my career, but I also want to be able to give
Bently's wife advance notice before she has to face a media storm again. She's been through enough."

  "Why do you need me? What about DNA?"

  He grimaced. "Unfortunately, the body of the skeleton seems to have disappeared."

  "What?"

  "Don't be alarmed. You're perfectly safe."

  "Sure I am. Except that someone doesn't want this body identified. What about the teeth?"

  "No teeth. And the skull was burned, but we hoped..." Melton shrugged. "Extracting DNA may be very difficult and time-consuming. We'll naturally pursue that avenue, but there may be a media leak at any time. I have to have some warning of the identity."

  "So you can put a spin on whatever I find." Eve shook her head. "It's not worth it to me."

  "You're afraid?"

  "I'm not dumb. Why should I risk my life for you and your career?"

  "The skull was moved to the church in great secrecy. No one will suspect it's there, and we'll have people at the church at all times to protect you."

  Eve shook her head.

  "I don't blame you for not caring about my problems, but Bently was a good man." Melton paused. "And he had a wife and three children. I guess I don't have to tell you what hell they've been going through for the last two years."

  Good move, she thought bitterly. Calculated or not, the words struck exactly the right note. She knew the agony of going through years of waiting with no closure.

  "Think about it. It's only a few days, a week at most. I'll get what I want, Mrs. Bently and the children's years of agony may be over, and you'll have the satisfaction of working on an interesting project. Everybody wins."

  "Why didn't you just send me the skull?"

  "We were planning on doing that before the skeleton disappeared. After that happened, I thought we should have increased security. I was also concerned about the media, since you have a greater visibility in your hometown." Melton grimaced. "I didn't want to stir up the media unless I had something positive to offer them. They'd love to dredge up all that sensational stuff we went through after Bently disappeared." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad we can have everything out in the open now."

  Eve gazed at him skeptically. "Then you won't mind if I check with Sheriff Bouvier about the skeleton."

  "I do mind your lack of trust, but I'll call the sheriff and tell him to be entirely open with you." Melton paused. "And now that you realize how fully you're going to have our support, you certainly won't need any outside help."

  He was leading up to something. "Meaning?"

  "You probably don't realize that Sean Galen has a criminal background and is completely untrustworthy. I'm sure you'll want to send him packing."

  "Really? John Logan trusts him."

  "Mr. Logan is a respectable businessman and I'd never want to impugn his choice of associates. Perhaps he doesn't realize the extent of Galen's—"

  "Logan doesn't wear blinders. He knows more about Galen than you do."

  "We won't argue. The crux of my argument is that you have no need of Galen. I'll be glad to dismiss him for you."

  "He's not an easy man to dismiss." Eve stared Melton directly in the eyes. "And I've no desire to dismiss him. Galen stays."

  "In what capacity? You surely don't think you need a bodyguard just because of this little incident."

  "This 'little incident' almost killed me." She waved an impatient hand. "But no, I don't need a bodyguard. Don't you dare suggest that in Marie's hearing. It was an accident. She's going to feel bad enough about my getting ill."

  "Then in what capacity?" Melton repeated. "Galen isn't qualified for anything but—"

  "You're Melton?" Galen was standing in the doorway. "I'm Sean Galen." He came forward. "And I really think you've overstayed your visit. Eve's looking a little stressed."

  "I'm not stressed."

  "Will you accept 'pissed off?" He turned to Melton. "Eve doesn't like to be told what to do. Now, I realize that you only have her well-being at heart, but she can get a little cranky. Suppose you leave."

  "You have no right to—" Melton broke off as he met Galen's gaze. He took an involuntary step backward, but recovered quickly. "Ms. Duncan realizes I only want what's best for her." His glance shifted to Eve. "I'll be here to pick you up tomorrow morning."

  "I've already claimed that pleasure." Galen made a shooing motion. "Bye."

  Melton gave him a cold glance and left the room.

  "And what if I hadn't wanted him to go?" Eve asked.

  "You were bristling. When a person is as sick as you are, it takes a major annoyance to make her bristle. I overheard quite a bit, including the bit about me. I'm flattered."

  "You shouldn't be. You're right; I was only irritated because he was trying to tell me what to do." She thought of something else. "But I'm not pleased you scared him away. I wanted to ask him some more questions about this damn reconstruction."

  "To quote one of your fellow southerners, 'Tomorrow is another day.' "

  "That's a terrible southern accent."

  "It's the best a poor lad from Liverpool can do." He sat in the chair beside her bed. "You didn't know anything about this job when you came here?"

  "I knew it was a request from a respected member of the Senate."

  "And you wanted to get away from Quinn."

  She looked at him.

  "Okay, I'm obviously out of line."

  "Right." She paused. "And Melton was also right. I don't need you, Galen."

  "You're getting hoarse again. You've been talking too much." He took her glass and filled it with ice chips. "I'll stay away from talking about Quinn. But there's the slimmest possibility you may need me, so I'll stick around." He handed her the glass. "I just came from Marie Letaux's house. She's dead."

  Shock surged through her. "What?"

  "I found her on the kitchen floor. There was a plate on the table with the remains of stew on it." He grimaced. "And also remains all over the floor. She'd evidently been throwing up."

  "She took the stew home?" Eve shook her head in horror. "My God, that's terrible."

  "You said you assumed she put it in the refrigerator."

  "She must have changed her mind. I left before she did." Sad. So incredibly sad. "She had a son. He was studying medicine in New Orleans."

  Galen nodded. "She had pictures all over the living room. Nice-looking kid."

  "It was clear she adored him." Eve could feel the tears sting her eyes. "Shit. I'd only just met her, but I liked her. I guess I identified with her. She was a woman alone who'd had to make her way in the world. They're sure it was food poisoning?"

  "There hasn't been time for an autopsy, but I suspect that will probably be the decision. Particularly since you landed here with the same ailment."

  There was something in his tone... . "You don't think it was?"

  "I didn't say that. I believe it was food poisoning."

  "Galen."

  "Sorry. It's my suspicious nature. She was in a nightgown and a chenille robe, and her bed had been slept in. That means she probably got up in the middle of the night and ate a huge plate of the stew. Very heavy meal for a midnight snack."

  "Maybe she didn't eat dinner and woke up hungry-"

  "Possibly. Now when you started throwing up, you tried to get help, didn't you? Marie Letaux had a phone, but evidently wasn't able to contact anyone.

  She lives very close to her neighbors, so wouldn't you think that she'd manage to get one of them to take her to the hospital?"

  "It would have been difficult. I was so weak I could barely move."

  "But you did move. And you said she was a woman who was accustomed to taking care of herself. Evidently she was so overcome she didn't even make it to the sink or the toilet to throw up. Wasn't that your first instinct?"

  She nodded. "What are you getting at, Galen?"

  "Oh, I was just playing 'what if.' " He took the glass from her and set it on the table. "What if she didn't get the munchies during the night? What if someone sat
across from her at that table and forced her to eat that stew and then waited with her until the poison took effect."

  Her eyes widened in shock. "That's crazy. For one thing, I didn't show symptoms for over three hours."

  "I agree it would have taken a good deal of patience and tremendous focus. It would have taken even more nerve to sit and watch her die. Particularly if he wasn't sure that someone wouldn't barge in any minute after they figured out Marie might also be at risk for food poisoning."

  She shuddered. "The idea's completely macabre."

  "I have that kind of mind."

  "Why would anyone do that?"

  "Well, after I found the body and before I called the police, I went to her desk and checked out her financial records. There was no deposit in her checking or savings account, but she rented a safety-deposit box two days ago. Very convenient. What if she stashed a pile of loot in the box?"

  "You think she poisoned me on purpose?"

  "I believe there's reason to ask why you contracted food poisoning from a meal produced by an experienced cook."

  Eve shook her head. "I can't believe that."

  "Because you liked her."

  "And why would she have been killed?"

  "So that she couldn't talk?" Galen shrugged. "Any number of reasons."

  "But you're only guessing."

  He smiled. "What if?"

  "Did you suggest this to the police?"

  "Be for real. I'd be the first one on the suspect list. I had enough trouble explaining why I was the one who found her. They even called the hospital to make sure you'd been checked in with food poisoning." He thought for a moment. "I have a few friends in New Orleans with forensic backgrounds who might be able to go in and scavenge around and see what else they can come up with."

  "Official friends?"

  "Be for real," Galen repeated as he tilted his head and studied her expression. "You're taking my theory seriously?"

  Eve slowly nodded. She had to take it seriously. She didn't want to believe any of it, but she had been exposed to brutality and deception for most of her life and certainly all her career. She shuddered. "To sit there and watch her ... Jesus, it sounds so ... cold-blooded."