Patricia Dusenbury - Claire Marshall 01 - A Perfect Victim by Patricia Dusenbury
Authors: Patricia Dusenbury
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was a longtime supporter and on the board.
It was the right thing to do.
CHAPTER 7
The desk officer at the Lafourche Parish Sheriff's Office directed Mike and Breton to Jason
Corlette's office. The deputy got the meeting off to a fast start by announcing the fire at Palmer's
cabin was arson. He pushed a folder across his desk. "The report. It's preliminary, but there's no
doubt. Gasoline was the accelerant. Early next week, the lab promises a timeframe."
Mike flipped through the document and passed it on to Breton who glanced at the cover
and put it down.
"The med tech says it looked to him like Palmer was dead before the fire. An autopsy is
scheduled for Monday morning, and we'll find out if he was right or not. Given the arson finding..."
Corlette shrugged. He slid another folder across the desk. "Here's what we found in the cabin"
"You've accomplished a lot in less than twenty four hours." Mike was relieved. The Sheriff's
Department had already initiated every action he and Vernon discussed. Lafourche Parish had to be
less than thrilled about New Orleans taking an interest in their case, but Corlette had no visible chip
on his shoulder, and he was making every effort to be cooperative.
Corlette's smile acknowledged the compliment. He picked up a stack of photographs and
laid them on his desk as if he was dealing cards. "These pictures, they're from the scene." He
pointed to a photograph of muddy handprints. "From Palmer's boat. They belong to a woman
named Claire Marshall."
"How do you know that?" Mike raised an eyebrow.
Breton, who'd been slumped in his chair with his eyes half shut, came to life. " Cherchez
la femme , and we've found her."
Corlette looked from one to the other. "She's not hiding. She's stepped forward twice,
yesterday to report the burned cabin and today to identify the driver of Palmer's Jeep."
"What's she like?" Breton said. "We've never met her."
"Nice looking, but a little skinny for my taste. Five-seven, five-eight, maybe one twenty-five.
Red hair, dark not orange. She was cooperative, drove right down to talk to me. Still, her story is
strange."
"We'd like to hear it," Mike said.
"I taped the interview, and we're making you a copy, but I can give you a quick recap." After
summarizing, he said, "One thing isn't on the tape. When we finished, I walked her out to her car.
She has a bright blue Miata, sits about six inches off the ground. I said it was a good thing she hadn't
driven it down to the cabin. She said she had. It was clean because she'd just run it through a car
wash."
Breton leaned forward, forearms on Corlette's desk. "Strange? She drives all the way down
here looking for Palmer, finds his cabin burned to a cinder, and goes to the beach? She disposes of
the clothes she was wearing and runs her vehicle through a car wash. You call it strange. I call it
destroying the evidence. And you just let her walk out of here?"
"I had no reason to detain her."
"You have an attractive young woman and a rich older man. He falls for her, and voila ." Breton slapped the desk. "He's a rich older dead man. This is not a new story. Five will
get you ten she's in his will." His expression said they'd finished their investigation. It was time to
go home.
"Nor is it the only possible story." Mike gave Breton a hard look. He could be right on
target, but that wasn't the issue. They were on Corlette's turf, asking for and receiving full
cooperation. There was no indication that Claire Marshall was avoiding law enforcement--just the
opposite. They'd catch up with her later.
He moved on to the next topic. "Do you know where Palmer's Jeep fits in?"
"It's a second suspicious and fatal fire. Witnesses told us both the Jeep and the driver
smelled strongly of gasoline. Here are their statements." He added paper to the growing stack on
their side of the desk. "The driver parked and went inside, leaving the windows wide open. A group
of kids was hanging around, and one decided to take the Jeep for a
It was the right thing to do.
CHAPTER 7
The desk officer at the Lafourche Parish Sheriff's Office directed Mike and Breton to Jason
Corlette's office. The deputy got the meeting off to a fast start by announcing the fire at Palmer's
cabin was arson. He pushed a folder across his desk. "The report. It's preliminary, but there's no
doubt. Gasoline was the accelerant. Early next week, the lab promises a timeframe."
Mike flipped through the document and passed it on to Breton who glanced at the cover
and put it down.
"The med tech says it looked to him like Palmer was dead before the fire. An autopsy is
scheduled for Monday morning, and we'll find out if he was right or not. Given the arson finding..."
Corlette shrugged. He slid another folder across the desk. "Here's what we found in the cabin"
"You've accomplished a lot in less than twenty four hours." Mike was relieved. The Sheriff's
Department had already initiated every action he and Vernon discussed. Lafourche Parish had to be
less than thrilled about New Orleans taking an interest in their case, but Corlette had no visible chip
on his shoulder, and he was making every effort to be cooperative.
Corlette's smile acknowledged the compliment. He picked up a stack of photographs and
laid them on his desk as if he was dealing cards. "These pictures, they're from the scene." He
pointed to a photograph of muddy handprints. "From Palmer's boat. They belong to a woman
named Claire Marshall."
"How do you know that?" Mike raised an eyebrow.
Breton, who'd been slumped in his chair with his eyes half shut, came to life. " Cherchez
la femme , and we've found her."
Corlette looked from one to the other. "She's not hiding. She's stepped forward twice,
yesterday to report the burned cabin and today to identify the driver of Palmer's Jeep."
"What's she like?" Breton said. "We've never met her."
"Nice looking, but a little skinny for my taste. Five-seven, five-eight, maybe one twenty-five.
Red hair, dark not orange. She was cooperative, drove right down to talk to me. Still, her story is
strange."
"We'd like to hear it," Mike said.
"I taped the interview, and we're making you a copy, but I can give you a quick recap." After
summarizing, he said, "One thing isn't on the tape. When we finished, I walked her out to her car.
She has a bright blue Miata, sits about six inches off the ground. I said it was a good thing she hadn't
driven it down to the cabin. She said she had. It was clean because she'd just run it through a car
wash."
Breton leaned forward, forearms on Corlette's desk. "Strange? She drives all the way down
here looking for Palmer, finds his cabin burned to a cinder, and goes to the beach? She disposes of
the clothes she was wearing and runs her vehicle through a car wash. You call it strange. I call it
destroying the evidence. And you just let her walk out of here?"
"I had no reason to detain her."
"You have an attractive young woman and a rich older man. He falls for her, and voila ." Breton slapped the desk. "He's a rich older dead man. This is not a new story. Five will
get you ten she's in his will." His expression said they'd finished their investigation. It was time to
go home.
"Nor is it the only possible story." Mike gave Breton a hard look. He could be right on
target, but that wasn't the issue. They were on Corlette's turf, asking for and receiving full
cooperation. There was no indication that Claire Marshall was avoiding law enforcement--just the
opposite. They'd catch up with her later.
He moved on to the next topic. "Do you know where Palmer's Jeep fits in?"
"It's a second suspicious and fatal fire. Witnesses told us both the Jeep and the driver
smelled strongly of gasoline. Here are their statements." He added paper to the growing stack on
their side of the desk. "The driver parked and went inside, leaving the windows wide open. A group
of kids was hanging around, and one decided to take the Jeep for a
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