case, maybe we could have done it a different way . . . but that’s not the reason I’m here.”
“And the reason is?” Nola prompted, resisting the urge to check her watch.
“It didn’t happen the way it was supposed to! None of the things Culver was supposed to do were done, because he disappeared the day before it was all supposed to go down. He’s really missing now, not just fake missing. At first I thought maybe something came up so he had to sort of, I don’t know, improvise and get things going early, but now . . . I’m not so sure.”
Nola digested that. It was certainly an interesting revelation, but she wasn’t sure quite what to do with it. “I gather you’re telling me this rather than the police because there might be some sort of obstructing-justice charge to admitting you were going to help fake someone’s death.”
“Yeah, you got it. And me with a DUI and some other stupid shit on my record. They hate me downtown.” This last was said with sneering pride, although Nola doubted anyone downtown could tell Lynette from countless other people with DUIs and stupid shit on their records. Half of Redfort was probably on that list.
“Lynette, I’m sympathetic. I know this has got to be pretty hellish for you. I just don’t know how you think I can help.”
“I thought maybe you could kind of hint to the cops what I’m telling you so they don’t waste time going on the wrong track—the wrong track being me .”
“It’s a little hard to ‘hint’ about faking a death.”
“Or you could sort of, you know, do your own investigating. I’d pay you. And Culver will pay you a ton if you help find him.”
Nola noted the fervor in Lynette’s voice. Genuine. The fear she’d professed yesterday had been fake after all. She really thought her lover was still alive. “You’d be wasting your money. I’m not a trained investigator. All I do is this one thing.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she hated having said them. All I do is this one stupid little thing. Other than that, what good am I?
Lynette was clearly a woman who could tell when she was having an effect on another person. Now she smiled, relaxed her posture, and put her hand on Nola’s wrist tenderly, almost flirtatiously. “Oh, please say you’ll do it. I need your help— we need your help. You’re the only one I can turn to.”
Nola wanted to laugh. “Sweetie, that might work on a potential sugar daddy, but you were better off being honest,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
For a second, anger flared in Lynette’s hard grey eyes. Then she relaxed again, leaning back and nodding. “Fair enough. Here’s the bottom line: I do need your help. Telling you all this stuff was taking a huge risk, and I’m not someone who trusts anyone, ever . That’s how desperate I am.”
Even with this bald admission, Nola felt like she was being played, but then that was probably the way Lynette dealt with everyone. “I can’t promise anything. It’s not like the cops hang on my every word. What I can do is keep in mind what you’ve said for my own part of the investigation and see if—”
“That’s not good enough. You need to do more than just following the dicks around like a puppy. Oh, don’t get all pissy—I know how it is.”
Nola was not about to get pissy, though the words stung her quite a bit. “Considering I don’t have to do anything for you, I suggest that you control the pissiness.” Something else occurred to her. “Hey, how did you know about me anyway?”
“Culver’s brother. I guess he’s interested in paranormal stuff. Me and Culver sometimes met at Grayson’s place when he wasn’t there so Culver’s wife wouldn’t get suspicious if she ever put a tail on Culver—it would be just like he was visiting his brother. Sometimes I’d have to wait for a while for Culver to get out of business meetings and stuff, and Grayson had all these articles about tracists that I read.
“And the reason is?” Nola prompted, resisting the urge to check her watch.
“It didn’t happen the way it was supposed to! None of the things Culver was supposed to do were done, because he disappeared the day before it was all supposed to go down. He’s really missing now, not just fake missing. At first I thought maybe something came up so he had to sort of, I don’t know, improvise and get things going early, but now . . . I’m not so sure.”
Nola digested that. It was certainly an interesting revelation, but she wasn’t sure quite what to do with it. “I gather you’re telling me this rather than the police because there might be some sort of obstructing-justice charge to admitting you were going to help fake someone’s death.”
“Yeah, you got it. And me with a DUI and some other stupid shit on my record. They hate me downtown.” This last was said with sneering pride, although Nola doubted anyone downtown could tell Lynette from countless other people with DUIs and stupid shit on their records. Half of Redfort was probably on that list.
“Lynette, I’m sympathetic. I know this has got to be pretty hellish for you. I just don’t know how you think I can help.”
“I thought maybe you could kind of hint to the cops what I’m telling you so they don’t waste time going on the wrong track—the wrong track being me .”
“It’s a little hard to ‘hint’ about faking a death.”
“Or you could sort of, you know, do your own investigating. I’d pay you. And Culver will pay you a ton if you help find him.”
Nola noted the fervor in Lynette’s voice. Genuine. The fear she’d professed yesterday had been fake after all. She really thought her lover was still alive. “You’d be wasting your money. I’m not a trained investigator. All I do is this one thing.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she hated having said them. All I do is this one stupid little thing. Other than that, what good am I?
Lynette was clearly a woman who could tell when she was having an effect on another person. Now she smiled, relaxed her posture, and put her hand on Nola’s wrist tenderly, almost flirtatiously. “Oh, please say you’ll do it. I need your help— we need your help. You’re the only one I can turn to.”
Nola wanted to laugh. “Sweetie, that might work on a potential sugar daddy, but you were better off being honest,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
For a second, anger flared in Lynette’s hard grey eyes. Then she relaxed again, leaning back and nodding. “Fair enough. Here’s the bottom line: I do need your help. Telling you all this stuff was taking a huge risk, and I’m not someone who trusts anyone, ever . That’s how desperate I am.”
Even with this bald admission, Nola felt like she was being played, but then that was probably the way Lynette dealt with everyone. “I can’t promise anything. It’s not like the cops hang on my every word. What I can do is keep in mind what you’ve said for my own part of the investigation and see if—”
“That’s not good enough. You need to do more than just following the dicks around like a puppy. Oh, don’t get all pissy—I know how it is.”
Nola was not about to get pissy, though the words stung her quite a bit. “Considering I don’t have to do anything for you, I suggest that you control the pissiness.” Something else occurred to her. “Hey, how did you know about me anyway?”
“Culver’s brother. I guess he’s interested in paranormal stuff. Me and Culver sometimes met at Grayson’s place when he wasn’t there so Culver’s wife wouldn’t get suspicious if she ever put a tail on Culver—it would be just like he was visiting his brother. Sometimes I’d have to wait for a while for Culver to get out of business meetings and stuff, and Grayson had all these articles about tracists that I read.
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