Dangerous Mercy: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

less-than-sincere smile. “Of course. Right away.”
    “Noah”—Adele took his hand in hers—“how are things at Langley Manor? Is it still drawing plenty of guests?”
    “Sure is, ma’am. The history o’ the place draws more guests than the Langleys can accommodate. They have a waitin’ list.”
    “That’s wonderful.” She gave his hand a squeeze and let go. “I haven’t really asked, but are you going to be able to keep your other customers once you move out there?”
    “I’ll keep a few favorites—you’re one o’ them.” Noah’s soft brown eyes lit up. “Don’t you worry none about your yard and flowers. I’ll take good care o’ them.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful. I was afraid I was going to have to start over, trying to find someone.”
    “No, ma’am. Oh …Vanessa asked me to say hello.”
    “Please give her my regards,” Adele said. “I want to get out there soon. It’s a pleasant surprise seeing you. I thought Murray was bringing that young man who came yesterday.”
    “Flynn’s a deadbeat,” Murray said. “And if he doesn’t change his attitude, he’s going to find himself homeless again.”
    Adele sighed. “He seemed troubled.”
    “Don’t feel sorry for him,” Murray said. “Father Vince has bent over backwards—and bent the rules. Nothing works with that guy.”
    “Perhaps I need to add Flynn to my prayer list,” Adele said.
    “Save your breath. I’m sure God doesn’t like him either.”
    Adele winced. What an awful thing to say. That wasn’t the first time Murray’s cynicism had surfaced. What an unbecoming trait in such a nice young man.
    “I’m going to leave you two to get the furniture moved back. When you’re finished, we’ll have a cold glass of lemonade out in the sunroom.”
    Adele watched the two men walk down the hall to the newly painted bedroom, aware that Isabel was put out with her for inviting them to stay for lemonade.
    At least they didn’t have to worry about that Flynn character.

     

CHAPTER 4
     
    That afternoon, Sheriff Jude Prejean closed the Darveau case file and took off his reading glasses. No fingerprints. No usable trace evidence. No results back yet on DNA. The only thing they knew for certain was that the killer made sure Darveau was awake, aware, and helpless when he drowned.
    The list of enemies was long. But Darveau’s administrative assistant was not aware of any threats made. Nor was anything threatening found in Darveau’s emails, phone messages, or text messages.
    A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he lifted his gaze.
    “You look glum.” Deputy Chief Aimee Rivette stood in the doorway. “You must be as frustrated as the rest of us.”
    “Whoever killed Girard Darveau covered his steps,” Jude said. “There’s nothing solid here—other than the victim had more enemies than most of us have friends. I doubt his own mother will mourn his murder.” He winced. “I didn’t mean that. Forget I said it.”
    “It’s probably truer than we’d like to admit.” Aimee came in and stood in front of his desk. “Gil and I have finished questioning Darveau’s son and daughter. They drove up last night from New Orleans with their families. We don’t think either of them had anything to do with it.”
    “They’re going to inherit a lot of money.”
    “True. But they’re both wealthy in their own right. They seemed genuinely dazed. Though neither was surprised that someone would want to see their father dead.”
    “How can you be so sure they didn’t want him dead?”
    “I can’t. But neither was in Les Barbes yesterday. And if either or both hired a hit man, we’ve got a long way to go to prove it. Besides, what hit man would’ve risked leaving evidence at the scene?”
    “He wouldn’t,” Jude said. “He’d have made it quick and clean and certainly wouldn’t have numbered his victim. This was personal. Have you caught up with his ex-wife yet?”
    “Yes, I sent Stone Castille and Mike