Body of Lies

  "You sound disappointed that Melton's story checked out."

  He shrugged. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

  "If we find out there's a problem, I can always stop and go home." But she didn't want to go home. She didn't intend to go back and face the very situation she'd run away from. She wanted to work until she dropped, and then work some more.

  "Are you sure I can't persuade you to bolt out of here? I'll call and see if I can get us tickets to Atlanta."

  "Us?"

  "My job's not finished. I stay with you until I'm sure there's no more danger."

  "I'm not walking around for any extended length of time with a bodyguard, Galen."

  "Just until I'm sure. The airport?"

  Eve thought about it. She wasn't one to undervalue the power of instinct, but there was no firm reason to think she wouldn't be able to finish this job safely. True, her food poisoning was worrying, but she was well guarded now by both Galen and the men she had seen about the grounds of the church this morning.

  And she didn't like the idea of someone killing a man like the one Galen had described and walking away from it without being punished. You couldn't punish a crime without identifying a victim—and that was her job.

  "Not until I'm sure that there's a reason to go." She turned back to the skull. "Now go away for a while. I need to get to work."

  "He's pretty filthy." Galen touched the mud on Victor's forehead. "Funny-looking dirt, isn't it?"

  She shrugged. "Dirt is dirt."

  "Are you going to be able to get it all off him?"

  "The majority of it. I'm not going to try to get it out of all the cavities. I might cause more breakage." She made a shooing motion. "Go. I want to get a start on cleaning up Victor before it's time for you to take me to Marie's funeral."

  "You're still going?"

  "Why shouldn't I? One, it could have been an accident. Two, if it wasn't, maybe someone else slipped something into the ingredients Marie brought to the house. If she's innocent, then she was killed to keep her from talking, or to make my attack look more accidental. Not a pretty thought, is it?"

  "Murder is even less pretty." Galen smiled. "But you want to believe the best of Marie. So we'll go to the funeral. It can't hurt."

  After Galen left, Eve turned back to Victor and began to carefully scrape the dirt from his skull.

  It's funny dirt.

  She paused and stared at it. It was strange-looking. Minute white chips seemed to be imbedded in rich black mud, making it appear lighter.

  Forget it. Maybe all the dirt in Sheriff Bouvier's parish was like this. If it wasn't, then the police must have noticed it. It wasn't her business. Just get it off and do your job.

  -------------------

  Marie Letaux's son, Pierre, was tall and good-looking and clearly devastated by his mother's death. He was surrounded by friends and relatives when Eve approached him after the ceremony at the small church. Eve held out her hand. "I'm Eve Duncan. I'd like to express my condolences. I didn't know your mother well, but I may have been the last person to see her. Did she tell you that she was taking a job with me?"

  Pierre nodded. "She was excited. She knew you were someone important."

  "Not really."

  "Mr. Tanzer said that you were famous. She liked the idea of working for a woman who'd made something of her life." His eyes filled with tears. "Mama wanted to be famous. I didn't tell her, but after I get out of medical school and set up practice I was going to set her up with her own restaurant. I should have told her." His voice broke. "I wish I'd told her. It was going to be a surprise."

  "She knew you loved her. She was very proud of you." Eve glanced at the flower-draped coffin, which had been placed in a gray hearse. "She wanted so much for you to finish your education."

  Pierre nodded jerkily. "She was always thinking of ways to help me. She called me the night before she died and told me not to worry, that she'd worked out a way to get the money for my tuition. That everything was going to be fine." "She did?"

  He nodded, his gaze shifting to the coffin. "I'm sorry, I have to go now."

  "Of course. I hope everything goes well for you in the future."

  "I can't think of anything but Mama now. It's very difficult for me. I thought my heart would break when I was going through her things last night. So many memories..." He tried to smile. "But I go back to school tomorrow, and I'll try very hard to make something of myself that would have made her proud.

  I thank you for your good wishes." He turned and moved toward the hearse.

  "Nice kid." Galen had moved forward to stand beside her.

  She watched the hearse move slowly through the cemetery toward the grave where Marie would be buried. "Yes."

  He took her elbow. "Ready to go?"

  She nodded, her gaze still on the hearse. "Did you hear what he said about the call from his mother?"

  "Yes."

  "Aren't you going to say anything?"

  "You'll make up your own mind. I hate to say I told you so."

  "It may not mean anything." Her hands clenched into fists. "Dammit, I didn't want to believe it. I still don't."

  "On the other hand, young Letaux may find a pleasant surprise when he opens her safety-deposit box." Galen gently nudged Eve toward his car. "Now how about having lunch and a little tour of the city before I take you back to the house? I think you need to unwind."

  "Okay." She took a final glance over her shoulder at the hearse, and Marie's son, who was going to say his final good-bye to the mother he loved. And Marie had loved him, too.

  Enough to do this terrible thing for his sake?

  "Stop worrying," Galen said. "Never ruin a good meal with bad thoughts. Tell me about your daughter, Jane. I heard she took over my nursing duty last year after I left Sarah Patrick's cabin in Phoenix.

  Don't deflate my ego by saying she did as good a job as I did."

  "Well, Sarah must have thought she did pretty well. Jane got a puppy out of it."

  "Do you consider that bad or good?"

  Eve smiled. "It's good. The puppy is pure Monty... I hope. I haven't seen any signs of anything savage about Toby."

  "Too bad. I've never seen anything wrong with a little dash of the tiger. It makes the mix more interesting."

  "I don't agree."

  "I believe you do. You chose Quinn."

  Yes, Joe had more than a little tiger in him, but she'd not seen it in the last year. She had seen nothing but love and companionship and togetherness. It had been magic. No, better than magic, because it had been honest and real.

  At least she'd thought it had been honest.

  She smothered the ripple of pain. Would she ever be able to think about Joe without that hurt? She changed the subject. "Where are we going to eat? Nothing heavy. My stomach still feels like it's taken a beating from Evander Holyfield."

  -------------------

  The safety-deposit box.

  Eve sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding. "Galen!"

  "I hear you," Galen called from the next room. He was there in seconds. "What's wrong? Did you see any—"

  "The safety-deposit box. I was asleep, but I woke up and it was—"

  "Slow down. Get your breath." He sat down on the bed beside her and set the revolver he'd carried on the nightstand. "A nightmare?"

  "No. It must have been in the back of my mind and it—Marie's safety-deposit box. You thought there was probably a bribe in it, and whoever poisoned me was trying to make sure to make it look like an accident. It was important to him not to draw, attention to why it was being done."

  "And?"

  "Pierre, her son. He was going back to New Orleans tomorrow morning. He wanted to be done with all these details. There's a good chance he would have gone to the bank this afternoon and tried to tie up all her affairs. If there was a huge amount in that safety-deposit box, it would have sent up a red flag, wouldn't it?"

  "You're thinking someone might want to stop him from reporting
that money."

  Eve moistened her lips. "Oh, God, I hope not." She got to her feet. "I want to go to see him. I'm getting dressed. Will you call Marie's house and see if you can reach him?"

  "Do you have the number?"

  "No."

  "I'll call information." Galen reached for the phone on the nightstand and turned on the light.

  She blinked. "You're naked."

  "You screamed. I wasn't about to take the time to get dressed." He spoke into the phone and then glanced over his shoulder. "Get moving."

  She didn't need to be told twice. She hurried out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.

  When she came back five minutes later, Galen was coming out of his room, tucking his shirt into his khakis. "Pierre didn't answer." He glanced at her. "Look, this may be a false alarm, but when we get there, I'm in charge. You don't do anything until I tell you to do it. Okay?"

  "I hear you. Just hurry."

  -------------------

  No one answered the knock.

  "He could have decided to leave early," Galen said. "Or perhaps staying here brought back too many memories."

  "I don't like it," Eve said. "Is the door locked?"

  "Yes." Galen bent over the knob for a moment. "But if it will make you feel better..." The door swung open. "I go in first. You stay out here until I call you. If you see anything, you call me."

  "I want to—" Eve nodded impatiently. "Hurry. If he's not here, I need to track him down at a hotel."

  "I'll hurry." Galen disappeared into the house.

  She didn't want to wait outside. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the windows of the houses on either side of the street. Dark, silent.

  Watching.

  Foolishness. No one was watching.

  "Come in." Galen was back. "It's safe."

  "Is he here?"

  "He's here." He shut the door. "But you may not want to see him. He's not a pretty sight. His head's half blown off."

  Shock jolted through her. "What?"

  "There at the desk across the room."

  The lights were off, but she could dimly see a figure slumped at the desk. "Pierre?"

  "As far as I could tell."

  "Murdered."

  "It's staged to look like a suicide. The gun's still in his hand. He may have actually pulled the trigger."

  "Like Marie was forced to eat the stew," she said dully.

  "Right."

  "I want to see him."

  "You're sure?"

  "It won't be the first corpse I've seen, Galen."

  "I know, but I have to fight my protective instincts." He flicked on the lamp by the door. "Don't touch anything."

  Blood and brain matter were splattered everywhere. She forced herself to walk forward until she stood in front of the desk. Several framed pictures of Pierre's mother were spread on the desk in front of him. To one side lay a pile of letters spattered with blood.

  "It looks"—she swallowed hard to ease the tightness of her throat—"as if he was going through her things."

  "And became despondent and took his own life. Everyone at the funeral would testify to how distraught he was. Very nicely staged. Or do you believe he'd actually do this?"

  Eve shook her head. "He wanted to make all her hard work worthwhile. He wouldn't—" She had to get out of here. She turned and headed for the door. "It wasn't him—somebody else did this."

  "That's what I thought." Galen followed her, stopping only to wipe his prints off the lamp and the doorknob while she waited outside. "But the verdict will probably be suicide."

  She drew a deep shaky breath as she reached the street. "We could tell the police about Marie."

  "With no real evidence but those bruises? You didn't want to believe Marie Letaux's death wasn't an accident."

  "I suppose he did go to the bank today," she said dully.

  "I doubt if he'd be dead if he hadn't discovered the safety-deposit box with the money. He must have had time to look through it, or he wouldn't have been a threat."

  "He was so young...."

  "Yeah, it sucks." Galen took Eve's elbow. "Let's get out of here. If anyone sees us around, they might decide it wasn't suicide and zero in on us as suspects. You might be above suspicion, but I'm not."

  -------------------

  "Sit down." Galen pushed Eve into one of the kitchen chairs and put on the kettle. "I'll make you some coffee."

  "I'm okay." She was lying. She wasn't okay. All she could think about was that beautiful young man who was now no longer beautiful. Pierre, whose years had been cut short in that brutal fashion.

  "Then keep me company." He switched on the stove, then took down the instant coffee. "I'm very sensitive. Blood always upsets me."

  She tried to smile. "Liar."

  "I am sensitive. There's just a layer of scar tissue." He got down two cups from the shelf and spooned in the coffee. "And blood is ... messy. To be spilled only when necessary. There are so many neater ways." He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. "That got you. Did you expect me to soothe you? You're too tough for that."

  "Am I?"

  "Sure. Of course, Quinn would probably comfort you. But you wouldn't take it from me." He poured boiling water into the cups and sat down across from her. "So take a cup of coffee instead."

  In spite of what he said, he was trying to comfort her. She took a sip. "I'm surprised a gourmet like you would tolerate instant coffee."

  "It was quick." He leaned back in his chair. "And I can tolerate anything. I'm used to making do."

  "It's good." She took another sip. "I... did need it. I guess I'm pretty shaky. I hate death. We fight and we fight and there's still nothing we can do about it."

  "Sometimes there is. Personally, I intend to live until I'm at least a hundred and fifty. I figure with all the research going on I could still be spry at that age."

  "Pierre was so young. There's something even more terrible about the young dying."

  "Like your Bonnie."

  "Yes." Eve looked down into the coffee in her cup. "Like my little girl."

  Galen was silent.

  Eve drew a shaky breath. "And I hate the monsters who take those youngsters' lives. I want to reach out and get them by the throat. I want to scream at them how unfair it is for them to steal all those bright, wonderful years away. It's cruel and ugly— Shit." Tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

  Galen was kneeling beside her chair. "Hey, don't do this to me." He took her in his arms and rocked her back and forth. "You're tearing up all my scar tissue." He felt her stiffen against him, and immediately released her and sat back on his heels. "Let's get this straight right now. I'm not trying to take advantage of a bad moment. It's my natural instincts again. A woman weeps and I react." He looked directly in her eyes. "But I know the difference between a vulnerable moment and the real thing. I like you, I respect you, and, if I let myself, I'd find you sexy. But you're not available. It's so clear that you might as well be carrying around a sign. So I'm your protector, your friend, and sometimes a shoulder to lean on. Got it?"

  She smiled shakily. "Got it."

  He smiled. "At least that little misunderstanding accomplished one thing. You're not crying anymore." He breathed a theatrical sigh of relief. "I can't take tears. They lay me low."

  "I'll remember that. It may come in handy." She stood up. "I'm going to bed. I have an early start tomorrow."

  Galen looked at his watch. "Tomorrow's already here. The airport?"

  "Hell, no." She started for the door. "They're not going to get away with killing that boy. They're going to pay for it. I'm going to give Victor a face."

  Chapter Seven

  "May I come in?" Galen asked.

  Eve glanced up from the skull. "If you don't talk to me."

  "Just a few words. Where's Rick?"

  She shrugged. "Around somewhere. He brought me coffee a couple hours ago. Why?"

  "Just checking. He's usually so attent
ive he makes me worry about losing my job."

  "He may be attentive, but he's quiet and unobtrusive. I hardly know he's around."

  "I doubt you'd notice if he ran around banging on a drum. I can see you're caught up in the project. I've never seen anyone so obsessed."

  "It's what I do." Her work had saved her from the depths of despair and helped her keep her sanity after Bonnie had been murdered. It was her salvation and her passion.

  "I just thought I'd fill you in on a few things I've learned about Bently."

  "I thought you'd already told me everything."

  "Only the obvious. I decided to probe a little deeper. I don't like to trust the obvious."

  "So what did you find out?"

  "He was an ardent environmentalist, very passionate about solar energy and cleaning up the rivers."

  "And?"

  "That would make him a target for any number of energy groups. What if he was planning to run on a platform that would step on some very important toes?"

  "You're doing those 'what ifs' again."

  "Can't help it. It's a game I have to play. It's my suspicious nature." Galen smiled. "But at least you should be relieved that Bently is turning out to be such a sterling character."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's obvious you've become so emotionally attached to that skull that it would give you a hell of a lot of satisfaction if Victor turned out to be a good guy."

  "Either way, it won't stop me from doing my job."

  Galen tilted his head and gazed appraisingly at the skull. "You don't appear very close. He looks like a voodoo doll. What are all those sticks all over his skull?"

  "Tissue-depth markers. I cut each marker to the proper measurement and glue it onto its specific area on the face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known tissue depths." She carefully placed another marker. "There are anthropological charts that give a specific measurement for each point."