“Okay, go on.”

  “When you were trying to find Anne’s killer, I didn’t have the opportunity to see the toll it took on you. Then last year during the search for the Mardi Gras killer, you weren’t as intimately involved except at the end.”

  I raised my eyebrows at his remark. “Only because I wasn’t related to the victim.”

  “What I planned to add was that your curiosity or whatever led you to have contact with the killer caused you to fall into an extremely dangerous situation. You could’ve been killed or seriously hurt.”

  “You’re right, but he more or less stalked me, which was why he took me hostage. The victim and I did not run in the same circle. I hardly knew him.”

  “That may be true, but in this case, you are much too close to the victim to be objective and I see the damage it’s doing to you emotionally and physically.”

  “What do you propose I do? Allow the sheriff’s office to dilly-dally around and let Jim’s killer get away? Should I leave the world to believe Jim committed suicide?” I pulled away from him.

  “Danny won’t allow that to happen,” he said with conviction. “I don’t know whether you’ve actually broken down and cried or not, but you need to let everything out. You’ve teared up a few times, but you’re still holding all your emotions inside.”

  How ironic. My brother had turned into a psychologist. I threw him a nasty look, which of course was petty. Just my frame of mind.

  “You probably think I’m the last person in the world who should give you advice. I’m speaking from experience,” he said. “I turned all my feelings inside after Anne’s death—everything from sorrow to anger to guilt. Take it from me, you’ll be able to think much clearer if you cry it all out.”

  “I’ll consider the idea.” I walked out of the room, feeling more depressed by the minute. I anxiously awaited the arrival of Monday when I could get in touch with Taylor Evans, the New Orleans psychic.

  The weekend went by at a snail’s pace and with no earth-shaking incidents. I had plenty of time to meditate on my brother’s advice, which was more or less the same counsel I’d given him when he had wallowed in guilt and grief over his wife’s murder.

  I’d heard or read somewhere that twins often have the same experiences in life. I prayed this experience of mine wouldn’t go as far as his did before the real killer was exposed. I uttered a mirthless chuckle. It wasn’t likely I’d be arrested for anything.

  Sixteen

  Monday, August 5

  Another week began. Nothing had changed. Every day I kept expecting Jim to walk through the door. Of course he couldn’t. I still hadn’t made any headway toward solving his murder and neither had Danny. Depression hardly qualified as a description of my feelings. All I could think about were the names on my suspect list.

  There were some important duties I needed to take care of soon instead of digging for clues. School was due to start in a little over a week and the notice for Orientation Day, which usually took place the week before, had arrived in the mail today. As one might imagine, my heart wasn’t in it this time. The kids probably weren’t feeling much like a meet-and-greet either.

  According to the notice, I had several days before the school event, giving me time to make more inquiries about my persons of interest on my list. Taking a cue from one of my fictional heroines, Scarlett O’Hara, I would think about school and such tomorrow...or the next day.

  Right now, I needed to make a phone call to set up an appointment with the psychic. Even though I’d left my number, I figured calling her back would be the fastest way to get to see her.

  Lucky me. She had an appointment open this afternoon at one. As soon as I ended the call, I gathered a few items together to bring to the meeting. I chose a close-up photograph of Jim in his official police uniform. His watch also seemed like a good choice for an item to have his energy on the surface. He wore it every day.

  Steven had a job he needed to complete, so I didn’t want to impose child care on him. I phoned Tina, our usual babysitter, and she happily agreed to watch the kids for a few hours. What a great kid. The twins love her too.

  After a quick lunch of salad and a fold-up cheese sandwich, which my maternal grandmother Marian Kelly used to call a suitcase sandwich, I headed for New Orleans.

  My heartbeat sped up as I approached Taylor Evans’ home office. What if her reading yielded no clues? Or worse, she indicated a stranger, no longer in the area? How would I be able to deal with that?

  I sat in the car for a while, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm my nerves. It was crazy to put such an emphasis on what a psychic might tell me. Taylor was a human being, although a gifted one. She could be wrong, no matter what she told me in there.

  Heaving a sigh, I stepped out of the car and started for the front entrance of her office. After being in an air-conditioned car for forty-five minutes, I felt like I had walked into an oven.

  Perspiration beaded beneath my blouse, partly due to the ninety degree temperature with humidity not far behind—the majority being my shot nerves.

  Taylor answered the door herself, which surprised me. Usually her daughter greeted her clients. I asked about her.

  “She’ll start classes at UNO this fall and is off checking out the campus with her friends. As you know, Morgan has been home schooled for quite a few years. She scored high on the college entry exam.” Pride was evident in her voice.

  “Wow, I didn’t realize she was old enough to be in college. Makes me feel old.”

  Taylor laughed. “You can imagine how old it makes me feel. And now I have to hire someone to be my assistant.”

  “Indeed.” I doubted she really minded hiring someone else to help her. Like all mothers, she relished her child’s accomplishments.

  “Come back to the office.” She ushered me down the hall and into the room where she conducted her readings.

  I sat in one of the chairs in front of the dark, polished wood desk. She studied my face intently. No doubt reading my mind.

  “How can I help you, Susan? Your message said this was urgent. I can tell you’ve had a tragedy in your life recently.”

  Her calm voice immediately put me at ease. But then in the back of my mind I had come to consider her a good friend. “The worst tragedy possible. Jim was killed two weeks ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. Then she was all business. “Do you have some items of his for me to use for this reading?”

  I retrieved Jim’s photo and his watch from my tote bag and laid them on the desk. “The official version of the manner of death is…”

  She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Remember, no details, please. I don’t want to be influenced by anything I might see.”

  I had forgotten about her rule regarding the readings. So I asked instead, “Can you tell me about his last moments before he was discovered?”

  Taylor placed both hands on the photograph. For several moments she seemed to concentrate her gaze on his eyes. Keeping both hands on the picture she closed her eyes. “He’s in a remote area. He is expecting to meet someone, a colleague perhaps. But I sense other people in the vicinity. The letter L comes to mind.”

  Abruptly, her hand moved to her stomach. She opened her eyes and leaned back in the chair, seemingly exhausted. Her face looked almost ashen. “I felt extreme pain, then nothing.”

  In the two previous visits, I’d never seen her like this. “Taylor, I’m sorry. Viewing his last moments was too much to ask. I know how horrible it is to see someone die.”

  She gave a faint smile. “Part of my job with police involves viewing such events.” Her color gradually began to return to her face. “You want to know if I could see how he actually died. I sensed you feel a discrepancy or have a disagreement with the official ruling about his death.”

  How could she know these things? I mentally shook off that question. I’m being naïve or too wrapped up in the belief I could root out the person who murdered Jim. A complete stranger could probably guess my reason for requesting this reading.

  “I hoped for some clue, at least, so I could make a decision about digging into his death or letting it go.”

  “I can’t tell you a lot about the manner of death except these two details. Right before the pain erupted, I got the impression he was startled. Perhaps shocked would be a better word.” She shook her head. “I had a distinct feeling of betrayal.”

  Why would he be startled? Betrayal suggests someone he didn’t expect to see.

  Then the mysterious note came to my mind. Taylor said ‘other people,’ as in more than one person. “Are there any clues as to who the other people present might be?”

  Taylor appeared apologetic. “I’m not certain if the letter L is related to his location or to people.”

  I pointed to the watch. “Jim wore this to work every day. Can you get any inkling about what went on at the police station? Not police business, but personal interactions.”

  Taylor picked up the watch and ran her fingers over the inside of the band. “There’s a woman, a law enforcement officer. She has a secret…or hidden agenda.” She narrowed her eyes and seemed to be trying to puzzle out the meaning of an image or vibe she had picked up. “Jim appears worried about what she’s doing. I can’t tell whether he’s privy to the purpose of her activities.

  “There are other people—some in his office and others who work nearby. These people also have agendas contrary to Jim’s.”

  “You’ve certainly given me a lot to consider,” I mused. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  She continued rubbing the watch. “Jim was worried about another matter, closer to him personally. Something connected to a family member’s death.”

  His father! I didn’t comment out loud so as not to give her any ideas. “Worried how?”

  “He seemed to be questioning in his mind the official cause of this person’s death.”

  My heart raced. I would definitely keep the Hansons on my suspect list.

  Taylor handed the watch and the photo back to me. “Has my reading helped you with your decision?”

  “For the present, I will continue looking into his death. A number of your comments have provided me with important clues to Jim’s mindset right before his death.”

  “I’d like to add some personal advice to you, if I may,” Taylor said.

  How curious. “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Think of me as a doctor giving you an oral prescription. Take some time alone to meditate and then pamper yourself with a massage or sauna. There’s a lot of negative energy surrounding you, which is normal under the circumstances. Positive energy from the relaxation will help dissipate the negativity. You’ll be able to think more clearly.”

  I thanked her for the advice. Not that I had time to heed it. Perhaps after Jim’s killer had been caught, I could relax. I paid Taylor for the visit and left her office.

  Outside the heat blasted me again. I fanned my face with one hand, a futile action. Just force of habit.

  The faint roar of traffic on the surrounding streets had become more evident as afternoon rush hour approached. An occasional car horn sounded and brakes squealed. I could imagine the choice words of impatient drivers as traffic became heavier and slowed to a crawl.

  I slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine and the air conditioner, letting the car idle for a while to cool off the interior. Every word the psychic told me ran through my head. I wanted to scream.

  Jim, why didn’t you confide in me about all these worries you had?

  Seventeen

  On the way home, I stopped off at a Walmart in Harahan outside New Orleans to buy the twins each a present. Maybe the idea to buy something for them was more about easing my own conscience. I’d been so wrapped up in my effort to find Jim’s killer, I’d more or less ignored their grief.

  A toy truck, a coloring book or a doll wouldn’t make up for lack of attention by itself. I also needed to give them the appropriate care they deserved in this traumatic situation. I had lost Jim. There was nothing I could do to bring him back. If I wasn’t careful, on an emotional level, I would lose the kids as well.

  I decided on a board game I could play with the kids and picked up a book for each of them. In my opinion, video games are okay on occasion, but they are mostly solitary pursuits and don’t provide many educational benefits. Not a healthy activity for kids. The twins enjoyed reading, which pleased me very much. Even though reading is also a solitary pastime, books provided informative and enlightening matter. Guess my reader and writer mentality is evident.

  I loved my e-book reader, but I still enjoyed holding a print book in my hands every once in a while. The thought of books reminded me of an unfinished manuscript sitting on the desk next to my computer. I considered myself a writer, but have been unsuccessful in getting a full length novel published; only two short stories published by Mystery and Intrigue magazine.

  The still fresh pain of Jim’s death and my search to find his killer has put a damper on my ambitions as far as the writing was concerned. Maybe after I found his killer and saw justice served, I could finish the story and submit the manuscript to one of the many e-publishers on line.

  I left the Walmart parking lot and headed for Highway 90, anxious to return home to the twins and even to my brother. I wondered how long it would be before Steven decided to quit babysitting me and the kids and take his life back. Honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to his departure.

  As I drove along, my thoughts swung back to Taylor Evans’ reading. She said more than one person was on the scene. The letter L must stand for a person’s first or last name, like LeBlanc.

  The area where the fishermen found him didn’t begin with that letter—Bayou Jean Baptiste. Could he have been in another spot when he was shot? He might have been moved. But it seemed like one of the law enforcement officers on the scene would have noticed.

  Brakes squealed and red lights flashed on as the vehicles ahead of me came to a sudden stop. I slammed on the brakes and stopped inches from the bumper of the car immediately in front of me. My heart banged against my chest. What in the world happened?

  On the side of the road, I saw why. A motley-looking shepherd mix dog trotted along nonchalantly toward the thicket of pine and oak trees lining the highway. He turned his head and looked back as if to say: ‘what’s all the big fuss about?’

  I had been lost in thought and hadn’t seen the dog run across the highway. If I’d been the first car, I would have hit him for sure. I didn’t need any more trauma. Keep your mind on the driving.

  Thank goodness I managed to arrive home without further mishaps. Steven had completed his job and sent the babysitter home.

  Matthew and Caroline seemed to enjoy playing the game with me and Steven after supper. I’m glad I bought it. I also had fun. We all needed that togetherness to partially fill the void.

  A larger empty space lingered inside me. Would that place ever be filled again?

  About ten-thirty I retired to my bedroom, took a shower, and got ready for bed, even though most likely I wouldn’t get to sleep for hours. I propped myself on the headboard and booted up my laptop to check my e-mail.

  The info and pictures of Frank Foret still hadn’t made it to my inbox. Aunt Eileen probably had to send those by snail mail. What a disappointment.

  Tomorrow I might head downtown to City Hall and check the death records at the Clerk of Court office. The cause of death on Jim’s father’s death certificate and other data might provide an interesting detail or two. If not, I’d talk to Danny about the possibility of getting access to the file on the incident, if there was one.

  Jim never mentioned to me he had started questioning his father’s death as a possible homicide. This was a big deal. He always confided in me. Why didn’t he tell me he was suspicious? The information Aunt Eileen gave him must have made him suspect the death should have been listed as murder. If he started investigating, the possibility existed he met his death because he had gotten too close to the truth. Or his suspect feared it was only a matter of time before Jim discovered the truth.

  His laptop! I jumped out of bed and rushed to the family room, where Steven sat engrossed in a late night talk show, laughing along with the studio audience at a joke or statement made by one of show’s guests.

  He looked up when I tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “I need to get to Jim’s laptop which is in the guest…uh your room…closet.”

  “Help yourself,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t have anything X-rated in there.”

  I widened my eyes in pseudo horror. “Good thing you don’t.”

  The laptop sat on the shelf in the closet where I had placed it after the sheriff’s office had checked the machine for possible clues to his murder. I couldn’t wait to get the laptop back in my room so I immediately booted up and went to his e-mail, pausing a moment to recall his password.

  Three e-mails appeared between Jim and Rick Hanson. The last one Jim sent had gone unanswered. All three messages seemed innocuous.

  The first one Jim sent simply asked Rick about his tour in Vietnam with Jim’s father. In reply, Rick stated Frank Foret and he were close friends and his own tour ended when he was wounded.

  To my surprise, the date of the tour in question was 1972. Rick mentioned what he referred to as the Easter Offensive.

  Jim’s response went right to the point of the information he must have been searching for. Can you tell me about his state of mind at the time? I couldn’t locate an answer to the last e-mail.

  If Jim had evidence his father’s death was a homicide and Rick Hanson committed the crime, this provided Rick Hanson a strong motive to keep Jim quiet.

  The next question is: did both Hanson men have alibis for the time of Jim’s death?

  Eighteen

  Tuesday, August 6

  Danny was doing paperwork at his desk when I arrived at his office. “There are two subjects I want to discuss with you?”

  He looked up with a frown. “Hello to you too.”