He stepped into the hallway and gasped. Gaping holes lay where the floorboards had collapsed, pieces of ceiling plaster littered the floor with white dust, and a staircase's railing lay in rotten pieces. He turned right and entered the parlor. In stark contrast to the room where Empyrion Richard had served tea a week ago, this chamber hadn't seen activity in decades, maybe even longer. The clerk's description was accurate; what furniture there had been lay in pieces now. The massive brick fireplace and the chimney where they saw a man's portrait hanging couldn't have been there mere days ago, because the bricks lay in a heap on the floor and the massive painting — if it had existed — had long since disintegrated.
Landry looked at the bookshelves on each side of the fireplace. Where once sat bric-a-brac, now there was an inch-thick layer of dust on what few shelves hadn't yet fallen. As he made his way across the room, he glanced at the floor. Where there had been other footprints in the hallway, the only ones here were his. No one else had stepped into this room for a very long time.
He took a lot of pictures, and as he turned to leave, he heard, "Trespass seems to be your modus operandi, Mr. Drake."
Empyrion Richard stared down at him from the top of the staircase.
"How did you escape from the building yesterday? We searched everywhere for you, and the police are still looking."
"What brought you back to my home?"
Landry stood his ground. "Your home, which I doubt it is, has changed quite a lot since the last time I was here. Remember how we sat in the parlor on the couch? And the portrait of Charles Richard — tell me, was that Charles or Richard in the painting? Everything's different today. How do you make the house change appearance like that, Empyrion?"
"Tell me why you came or get out of my house."
"No, this time you'll answer the questions. You pushed Jack and me out the window yesterday and I know why. At that moment you were Charles Richard. You and Prosperine shouted to each other, she addressed Jack as Lucas, and you told her to kill him. When she didn't, you pushed him yourself. I want to know everything, so start talking.”
Empyrion said, "There is much in this world that defies logic. A man in your profession should understand that better than most. You demand answers, but I don't submit to your demands. That frustrates you, but there are things best solved on one's own — or left alone. The answers you seek are in the latter category."
"Stop the double-talk and tell me everything, by God!"
"Are you so interested in finding out 'everything' that you're unconcerned about the welfare of your friend Mr. Blair?"
Jack? What was he talking about?
Landry bounded up the stairs, narrowly avoiding falling through a riser that collapsed under his weight. He hadn't been to the second floor before, and he saw that it was in exactly the same dilapidated condition as the other.
"What do you know about Jack?"
"What do I know? Quite a bit, actually. I know that Prosperine LaPiere calls him Lucas. But you also know that, don't you?"
Landry raised his fist, thought better of it and brought it down. He wasn't prone to striking someone, but he had had all he could stomach of this man and his nonchalant attitude.
"Prosperine doesn't call anyone anything. She's been dead for a hundred and ninety years. Where is Jack?"
"I believe he's at the building on Toulouse Street. I'm not certain, of course, because I'm not there. But the last I saw of him, that's where he was."
"Goddammit! What the hell have you done? You're coming with me!"
He grabbed for Empyrion's sleeve, but the man stepped backward. Landry lost his footing and seized a still-standing piece of railing. It collapsed and he tumbled backwards down the stairs.
Hacking from the enormous cloud of dust and grit he'd raised, he rose and ran back up the stairs, but Empyrion Richard had vanished. There was no point remaining; he knew in his gut he wouldn't find the man.
Landry went to the Jeep and called Detective Young, who was at the building. They hadn't seen Jack this morning and were making one final sweep through every room before calling it quits. Landry didn’t reveal where he was or what Empyrion said about Jack. He wanted to see things for himself, and he headed back for New Orleans with more questions than answers, as seemed to be the norm these days.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
The motel’s front desk manager hadn’t seen Jack today, but a call to the night clerk revealed that sometime around three a.m. Jack walked through the lobby and out into the parking lot. He didn’t acknowledge the other man and seemed preoccupied. By the time the night shift ended at seven, Jack hadn’t returned.
After what Empyrion had said, Landry knew Jack wasn’t lying drunk in some gutter. He was in trouble and he needed help. Landry parked the SUV and walked to Toulouse Street. There was a new hasp and padlock on the gate. A quick call to Detective Young revealed that Shawn Leary had come over as the police were leaving and installed it.
“How can I get inside?”
“Call the guy. That’s what he asked me to do if we needed access again.”
“Would you call him for me? He’ll never let me in.”
Young sighed. “If the captain catches me helping you, I’ll be walking a beat again. He already thinks I’m too close. Why do you want to go back inside?”
“Because I
