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“Why’s he so interested in her?” Detective Cantin wanted to know.
A couple of blocks beyond the entrance to Donovan’s subdivision, Officer Wentzel waited in his car, the brake lights glowing bright red. Cantin passed by him, glancing left in time to see Donovan carry a heavy box out of her house, and put it in the trunk of her car. Her front door was wide open, revealing cardboard boxes and a black bag.
She’s moving?
In his rearview mirror, he watched Wentzel back up into a private driveway, turn his wheels hard, then head toward the entrance.
Shit. Which one do I stay with? Wentzel’s going on duty soon. And he probably recognized my car, so I doubt he’ll be back. Donovan’s actions were more intriguing. He made a U-turn. Maneuvered his vehicle curbside of a house where the grass had grown ankle-high. Folks must be on vacation. If I think that, so might a burglar.
Donovan finished stuffing the trunk. Started loading the back seat with her belongings.
Halfway across her sidewalk, she swung her head in his direction. Lucas instantly brought a hand up to shield his face. She kept staring his way as she continued on into the house. He bet she was watching him through the blinds.
Before he made a move to leave, she came out and locked her door.
Staying two car lengths away, he followed her to the French Quarter. She entered the lot of a nice apartment building on St. Philip Street. He continued driving, doing his best not to look back at her. He’d rather not know if she’d seen him following her.
Another block further up the street he glimpsed in his rearview mirror in time to see Wentzel turning down a side street.
* * *
Lucas figured it was time to pay a visit to the café next door to the police department.
He had a lot to mull over in his mind. Might even bounce a few things off the other cops. Things such as why was Donovan trading her big house for a little apartment? Where’s her husband? When’s the last time anyone’s seen her husband?
Upon entering the café he was inundated with bits and pieces of idle conversations, the flavorful aroma of dirty rice and Po-boys, the clink of ice in drinks served in tall and skinny glasses, and the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. Lucas hunted through the faces in the crowd. Gary Northcutt waved him over to a table near the back.
He chose the red padded wooden chair directly across from Gary. Scooted closer to the table. “Hey. You just get here?” Lucas asked, seeing only a glass of iced tea and silverware rolled up inside of a paper napkin.
“About five minutes ago.” He raised a menu out of a metal holder, handed it to Lucas.
“Thanks. What’d you order?”
“I’m in the mood for a big ole bowl of gumbo. You?”
Lucas absently rubbed his chin, unaware he’d picked up Gary’s old habit. “Did you know BJ Donovan was moving out of her house today?”
Gary blinked. Lucas had personal information he should’ve had first. He became defensive. “She didn’t say anything about it the last time I spoke with her.” His face grew warm. “How do you know?”
“It’s no big deal. I just happened to see her when I was in the French Quarter earlier today. I saw her car in the private lot of an apartment building. She had several cardboard boxes in her back seat. She is married, right?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. Just strikes me strange I’ve never seen him out and about.” Lucas avoided eye contact. “I mean, I’ve seen her a time or two, so you’d think I’d see him sooner or later.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Hunger’s affecting my brain.” He watched the frown deepen on Gary’s face as he was staring out the window. Damn, why’d you have to go and tell him? Lucas was relieved to see the waitress working her way to their table. “I’ll have a Po-boy with nuttinonit, and sweet tea,” he told her when she arrived with Gary’s food.
“Have you had a chance to speak with the captain about Wentzel?” Gary asked.
Lucas wasn’t expecting him to change the subject. “Talk to me.”
Gary swallowed a mouthful of tea. “It, uh, it was weird, you telling me about BJ moving, perhaps skipping out on her husband.” A deep sigh. “I came home for lunch today. Half of the furniture was gone, half of the bank account was gone, and my wife was gone. Never saw it coming. Not much of a detective, am I? I knew, or thought I knew, she was seeing someone else, but there were no indicators that it had gotten this serious. Serious enough for her to leave without so much as a phone call or a kiss-my-ass note stuck to the fridge. And you want to know why I had no idea? Because all my attention was on another woman.”
“I guess that old saying is what keeps me single.”
“Old saying?”
“Don’t marry the one you’re with, marry the one you love. That saying.”
Gary shook his head in confusion. “And this applies to my shit, how?”
“Beats the hell outta me. I’m just trying to cheer you up, man.” Lucas glanced at the window in time to see Officer Wentzel walking by with a scowl on his face.