Murder in the Garden District (Chanse MacLeod Mysteries) by Greg Herren Read Free Book Online Page A

arrived.”
    “Are you familiar with the layout of the house?”
    Paige shook her head.
    “This is not for publication,” I warned.
    She laughed. “Do you really think Crescent City is going to cover this story? I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.”
    Paige always kept her word, so I continued.
    “Janna’s room is at the top of the stairs. The drawing room is at the bottom of the same staircase. I don’t know where Cordelia’s room is, but her story is, she heard the shot and checked on the kids, then went downstairs and saw Wendell’s body. She said she went into shock, picked up the gun and it went off a second time.”
    “With you so far.”
    “Janna’s story is, she heard the shot, called 911, and was on the stairs when she heard the second shot. Cordelia is in her seventies, at the very least. I’ll give you that she is pretty spry, but how did she hear the shot, check in on both her grandchildren, and still manage to get downstairs before Janna when all Janna did was call 911? And why didn’t Cordelia check on Janna before she went downstairs? Even if she hates her daughter-in-law, and I’ll stipulate to that, don’t you think she would have checked on her?”
    “The plot thickens. What did they have to say when you pointed that out?”
    “That’s just it. I didn’t know the layout of the house until I was leaving there this morning. And now neither one of them will take my calls, or call me back. I think I’m being played. I just can’t figure out why. Cordelia made it quite clear that I’m not to focus on her family.”
    I took a swig of my own beer.
    “Isn’t Loren McKeithen representing Cordelia? Why don’t you call him? I know you think he fucked you over the last time you dealt with him, but you are working for Cordelia too—and if he hasn’t caught this discrepancy yet, telling him is one way to earn your pay.”
    That was something, I admitted. “Did you ever meet Janna?”
    “I know Janna. Not well, but I’ve met her a few times at company parties and things like that. She was perfectly nice to me. I liked her and felt sorry for her. Wendell was horrible to her. If I were Janna, I’d have capped his ass years ago. Before he stepped down as publisher to run for the Senate, he used to come back from lunch tanked. Fridays he’d go to Galatoire’s and not return. I often wondered how he thought he could get elected. Then again, it’s not like we Louisianans look down on drinking. And he did okay in the state legislature, and on the City Council. I guess the Sheehan name still carries a lot of weight.”
    “How was he horrible to her? Do you think there was abuse?”
    “That would be weird, given Cordelia’s work. He was very abrupt to her, but I didn’t see any evidence of physical abuse. I remember at the Christmas party last year—he just ignored her and never introduced her to anyone, either. The first time I met her was right after I was hired; they had a party so everyone could meet the new editor. You know, one of those things I hate going to and avoid like the plague if I can. He introduced me to everyone except Janna. I about fell through the floor when I introduced myself at the bar and she told me her name.” She tapped her index finger on her chin. “Wendell was kind of a pig. Always saying inappropriate things to women, touching us—never anything that truly crossed the line, I’d have knocked a few of his teeth loose if he had—but you know what I mean. Putting his arm around our shoulders, touching on the arms. That sort of thing. He thought he was God’s gift to women.”
    “What about Monica Davis? Did you know her?”
    “You’ve already heard that story? Take it from me, it’s just that—a story. Monica hated Wendell.”
    “I heard she was—”
    “That was ancient history, Chanse. Trust me, there was no way in hell Monica would have started it up again. Was it Janna who said—?”
    I cut her off. “No, it wasn’t. Was Wendell