Murder in the Rue Chartres Read Online Free PDF Page B

him—I’ve asked them—and my grandfather just flatly refuses to discuss him.” She made a little hopeless gesture with her hands. “So I have no recourse but to hire a private eye.”
    “He’s never once tried to get in touch with you or your brothers?”
    “He may have,” she said grimly. “My mother was a very determined woman, Mr. MacLeod, to say the least. I don’t even know what happened; why he left, but it was obvious from my mother’s behavior that the separation wasn’t her idea. Once he left, she erased him completely from our lives.It wasn’t until she died that I even knew what he looked like. All I knew was his name, which was on my birth certificate.” She clicked open her briefcase and handed me a file folder. “Everything I know about my father is in that folder. There’s a wedding picture that I found in with my mother’s things, as well as his Social Security number. Their divorce decree is in there as well—she divorced him for desertion. She also had sole custody of us—her children. After the divorce, she petitioned the court to change our names—hers, my brothers’, and mine—back to Verlaine.”
    “That’s pretty extreme,” I replied.
    She raised an eyebrow. “As I said, my mother was a formidable woman. Are you interested in taking this case?”
    I considered. Might as well be honest with her—that way it couldn’t come back to bite me in the ass later. “After all this time, I can’t promise that I’ll find him—and you also have to take into consideration that—”
    “He might be dead?” She seemed amused. “Yes, I have considered that. But in any case, Mr. MacLeod, I’d like to know one way or the other. “She pulled out her checkbook and started writing me a check. “It’s so horrible to just wonder.”
    “Ms. Verlaine—” I hesitated as I noticed the amount she was writing in. Usually, I give my clients a disclaimer. People who disappear don’t want to be found. Chances are if you think your spouse is cheating, he or she probably is. But she also didn’t strike me as being driven by sentiment. I didn’t believe for one moment she wanted to have her father give her away at her wedding—not a father she’d never known. She wasn’t looking for him to fill a void she’d felt most of her life. I sensed there was a further reason she was interested in finding him—something she wasn’t telling me, nor was she likely to. But clients don’t always tell me their true motivations, nor is having that information necessary for me to do my job. As long as their check clears, I don’t care one way or the other.
    She paused before signing the check. “Yes?”
    “Nothing.” I walked over to my computer and printed out my standard boilerplate contract, which I gave to her to sign. “How often would you like a report on my progress?”
    “Weekly, if that would be okay with you.” She paper-clipped a business card to her check. “You can reach me at any of these numbers—although I would prefer it if you would always try my cell phone first. Valerie answers my office line, and as I said, she is a gossip. And when the retainer runs out, I will decide then if I want you to continue.” She stood, smoothing her skirt and extending her hand to me. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
    “Iʼll get started on Monday, if thatʼs all right with you?”
    “That would be just fine, Mr. MacLeod.”
    She walked out of my apartment and got into a gray Mercedes convertible. I watched her drive off down Camp Street.
    And she’d been killed later that same day.
    “I guess I should just tear up the check,” I said as the girl with the braid set down plastic takeout containers in front of us. I smiled at her before opening mine and squirting mustard and ketchup on my cheeseburger. I took a bite. It was amazing. There’s no burger like a New Orleans bar burger.
    “The Verlaine Shipping Offices are open,” Paige said, dipping a steak fry into a puddle of