She was startled, jumping in the driver’s seat, by a tap on her window.
She turned. It was Dan Oliver.
Katie rolled down the window.
“It’s the same guy,” he said flatly. “Or duo. I don’t think more than two people could be involved.”
“George didn’t do it,” she said.
He shrugged. “Let’s hope he didn’t. I mean, your testimony was so passionate, I’m pretty sure it’s the reason he got off.”
She forced a smile over clenched teeth.
“Or he might have gotten off because you had nothing but circumstantial evidence.”
“Well, if it proves he’s not in New Orleans, I’ll believe you.”
“George isn’t in New Orleans. After the trial, he said he was moving far away. He wanted to forget everything, change careers even, anything that could fill his mind with something else. He...he hasn’t stayed in touch. He needed a new life.” She hesitated. “I know he lived just about a block away from the house where the people were murdered in Orlando. And he was on the boat when my parents were killed. But George isn’t a killer. I knew him well.”
He nodded. “Well, you might prove to be right. One way or another, I sincerely believe we need to rehash everything. Something has to give this guy away.”
She nodded.
But Dan didn’t leave. After a moment, he said, “I have a question. I still don’t understand how George knew nothing at all about what happened when, as you said, he was on the boat.”
Katie sighed. “Yes, he was on the boat. He knew another boat was approaching, but Anita was coming up on the dive platform, and the other boat was sidling along on the forward port side. I’m sure you read his testimony.” She paused. “According to George, Anita came up worried because the two of us had become separated. My father was a stickler for diving dos and don’ts, such as you always dive with a partner. So George was talking to Anita, trying to calm her down, assure her I did know what I was doing. Next thing he knows, he gets a blow to the head. He was still looking at his wife, in midsentence. Then nothing. He woke up on the beach with vague memories of realizing he was in the water and had to survive somehow. How he got there, I don’t know. Luckily, somehow, maybe he grabbed onto a piece of flotsam, and it brought him in to Annie’s Beach. He’s a great swimmer and diver—or he was. He’s like me now. He hasn’t been in the water since. Anyway, he made it to Annie’s Beach. That’s where he was found. He was airlifted to the hospital on the mainland. His doctors can tell you that he sustained a serious blow to the head.” She paused again, staring at him hard. “You know all this. You have every report on what happened. You have his statement. I don’t understand what it is you don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand a blow to the head,” he said. “There were six people on the boat. Your parents, George and Anita, and the mysterious Dr. Browne and Jennie Whoever. Browne and Jennie, disappeared. Your parents and Anita, dead. And George, alive, survived an axe murderer and the open ocean all the way to the beach while only semiconscious?”
“Think what you want. This is going to make you think again,” she said.
“Maybe your good buddy will prove to be innocent,” he said. “I promise you, though, whether he had anything to do with any of the murders or not, I won’t stop this time. I won’t stop until we have the truth and solid, irrefutable evidence.”
“But you’re not even a cop anymore. Or an agent of any kind.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a licensed private investigator.”
“And living in New Orleans?” she asked dryly.
“Yeah. I have family here, too.”
“Right,” she muttered. “You knew I was here. Is that why you came?”
“What?”
“Were you following me after the trial, trying to see if I’d crack or something?”
“What? No, God no! I told you, I have family here. Don’t be so...full of yourself!”
She controlled her temper and gave him an icy smile. “Right. Well, anyway, excuse me. I need to get back to work. I’m sure you do, too. Private eye, huh? Guess you’re on the big cases!” she said in a mocking tone.
He didn’t reply. He stepped back from the car.
Katie revved her engine. She’d been sitting too long.
And ridiculously, the day was still young. Well, it was about three in the afternoon, but for many in New Orleans, that was early. The French Quarter did have a nice supply of locals, but it was also a tourist-driven city.
Plenty of rides awaited her in the afternoon and early evening. And working might—hopefully—keep her mind off things she couldn’t control.
Even as she drove, heading back to Treme and the stables, she groaned aloud.
Tonight, everyone would be talking about the murders. And they’d have heard there had been an axe murderer busy in New Orleans just over a hundred years ago.
And that’s what they would all want to hear about tonight: the grisly deeds of the long-gone Axeman of New Orleans.
“Listen,” Dan said, striding back into Ryder’s office, “I—”
“I knew you’d come back,” Ryder said, sighing. “Dan, come on! I called you. Obviously, I want you involved. You’re one of the best investigators I know. But you know as well as I do that investigations demand patience, too. I have cops out in the neighborhood going door-to-door. We have the medical examiner prepping the bodies today, autopsies tomorrow, as you also know. Our forensic people are gathering everything.”
“I know. I want to make sure I am a consultant on this case. Officially.”
“I’ve asked the powers that be. Don’t go making them think you’re obsessed or personally invested, or I won’t have any luck.”
Dan frowned, taking his seat
