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The last time Gary talked with BJ, she informed him that she had collaborated with someone in law enforcement on her new story. She said the story was based on a true crime. That’s it. Not only was she intent on protecting her source, but the details, as well.
Does she honestly think I’m the kind of writer that would steal another writer’s work? Or was something else go—
Captain Ory Fortier called everyone into the main office for a briefing on the alley murders.
The man beside Gary was making a list. Facing Fortier, he glimpsed sideways to read what had been written so far: murders quite grisly, buy BJD’s novel, missing cross and chain, women not raped, undercover cop disappeared.
Gary’s eyebrows shot straight up. He didn’t hear Fortier say anything about Nolin’s necklace. Lightly scratching his cheek, he tilted his head enough to read the guy’s name tag. Wentzel? He squared his shoulders. Remembered where he had heard the name before. He sidestepped the rookie, crossed the room to stand next to Lucas. “Meet me at the car when Fortier’s done,” he whispered, “I think I know who the killer is.”
* * *
Gary walked purposefully across the parking lot. He tapped the button on the car key fob, heard it chirp twice.
Lucas waited beside the sedan. Popped a white mint with green speckles in his mouth, and stuffed the roll in his pocket. “What’s up?”
Gary connected his seatbelt. “Not here.”
At the takeout window of Benyay’s Restaurant on the south side, Gary ordered café au lait times two along with a couple of their famous little square doughnuts, deep-fried and dusted with powdered sugar. The woman lowered her arm out the window like a railroad crossing gate, palm side up. He dug through his pockets. Handed her the exact amount of money.
When she moved out of his line of vision, Gary said, “I’m pretty sure I know who the killer is, but I need more proof before I tell Fortier.”
Before Lucas responded, the woman reappeared with their order.
Gary handed Lucas his go-cup. They set them in the plastic drink holders hanging off the doors. He put the paper sack and napkins on the console between the seats. Drove around the corner of the building, and found an empty space under a shady tree. Holding a paper boat tray close to their mouths, they munched on sweet goodness, each gazing at nothing in particular.
Lucas had a hard time resisting going back for seconds. He patted his slightly round belly. Thought it was high time he revisited the gym. Finished his drink. Put everything in the sack.
“All right, Gary. Out with it.”
Gary wanted to chew on the facts a bit longer. He already knew Lucas was eager to talk. He crammed the last bite in his mouth, added his trash to the sack. Rubbed his tongue over his teeth. Finished off the last two swallows of coffee. Wiped his moustache with a napkin. Idly brushed invisible crumbs off his shirt. Dug out a cigarette pack in the glove compartment.
“Today,” Lucas said, growing impatient.
“I’m almost positive it’s Jacob Wentzel,” said Gary.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Gary’s eyes widened. “You already suspected Wentzel? And you didn’t say anything?”
“I guess I was quicker on the uptake than you.” Lucas grinned. “Nah, seriously, I just put it altogether last night.”
He told Gary most of what had happened at the house on Caulfield Lane, stopping short of mentioning that Donovan was also there. In particular, he didn’t want him to know he’d become her shadow. Gary had strong feelings for her. Without proof positive, he’d have to tread lightly. He’d seen a few close friendships torn apart by someone making disparaging remarks about someone else’s love interest.
Then again, none of them had slept with Louisiana’s ‘Most Wanted’.
“Why do you suspect Wentzel?” Lucas asked. “Other than the fact that he has the same last name as the homeowner on Caulfield.”
Gary smashed the cigarette in the ashtray. Debated about another. Debated about quitting, again. “He knew about the necklace, Nolin’s necklace. Besides you, Wyatt, Fortier, and me, no one knew about the missing gold cross and chain, except the person who had taken it.”
“How do you know Wentzel knows about the necklace? I didn’t hear him say anything.”
“He took notes during the briefing,” Gary explained.
“I see. Did he also write about the other missing items? Sarri’s wedding band? Officer Renee Yeager’s badge we knew in advance she had stashed in her bra because she said it would make her feel safer?”
“It’s possible. I may’ve moved away too soon.” Gary smoked another cigarette, feeling antsy. “Second, there’s the letter. The one placed on my desk. Not just anybody can make it all the way up to the fourth floor and put something on our desks without being noticed. So I’m thinking the writer and the deliverer was someone familiar to everyone, enough so to be able to approach my desk without raising suspicion. Third, the asinine expression ‘that’s the way the cookie crumbles’. Who the hell says that in this day and age, and why?”
“Jacob Wentzel, that’s who. Who knows why? It’s as dumb a saying as the one about crying over spilt milk. Makes me wonder if somebody crumbled a cookie in their milk, realized it was a dumb move, so they dumped it all out?” Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know how this kind of shit gets started in the first place, so I think I turned a deaf ear the first time he said it.”
“We need to check this guy out. I mean, what the hell do we know about him? I got the impression he’s a loner. Probably because he doesn’t socialize with any of the other rookies when they’re off duty. Now’s the best time for him to bond with them. They’re the ones who’ll have his back one day.”
“I heard he has a short military history. Went to college for a while. Worked odd jobs. Nothing else. He must’ve passed a background check to have gotten this far.” Lucas changed his mind about telling Gary that he’d also become Wentzel’s shadow. “I’ve spent a brief amount of time around him. His personality seems to run hot and cold, and the temper I perceived just beneath the surface troubles me. He makes all the mistakes of an overachiever. I’m sure there are other aspects of his life we could pursue. We can do it discreetly.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “We need to talk to Fortier about getting a search warrant for us. Then we need to pay a visit to the home of a fellow officer.”
Gary threw the sack in a trash receptacle.
He drove to Sonnier’s house first.
BJ’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
Where are you, baby, he thought.
Thought even more about why Lucas didn’t question why they were there.