Bonnie - Iris Johansen [20]
“I can’t guarantee that anything he told you about Bonnie was true. Everything to do with Bonnie is strictly between the two of you.” Catherine made a face. “I’m limiting my investigating to things that can be proved.” She shifted her glance to Joe. “I’ve been told that I’m in the minority. I found it hard to believe that you were consorting with ghosts, Joe.”
“You have no idea.” Joe smiled faintly. “Someday, I’ll sit down and tell you a few tales that will cause your hair to curl.” His smile faded. “Don’t be too committed to reality, Catherine. It can trip you up.”
“I’m clinging to it with both hands. It’s comforting. Now, Eve, where do we get a sketch pad for you?”
“We don’t. But I have a loose-leaf notebook in my bag that I can use. It’s in the trunk of the car. I can make do with a regular pencil.”
“I’ll go get it.” Joe turned and moved toward the door. “I’ll be back in a— I hear a car.” He threw open the door. “I think the local sheriff’s department is here.”
Eve followed him and saw the two white cars with the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Department on the side drawing up before the house. “Venable got them here fast.”
“But I don’t want them coming in and finding Jacobs’s body,” Joe said. “That would prove awkward.”
“Awkward?” Catherine joined them at the door. “Yes, I think that would be a little awkward. Venable should be here soon with a CIA crew to do cleanup. Those cops were only told to do the forensic work that we wanted done on the truck.”
“Then I’ll keep them away from the house.” Joe moved toward the two police cars. “I’ll take them down the road to the Chevy.”
Eve and Catherine watched as he greeted the officers with smooth, friendly authority. A few minutes later he got into one of the patrol cars, and the two sheriff’s cars moved down the road.
“That’s going to take a while. We might as well get started.” Eve pulled out the keys and moved toward the rental car. She paused after she’d unlocked the trunk to look out at the bayou. “The fog is almost gone. Why couldn’t this have happened a few hours ago? It would have made everything so much easier.”
“You mean you don’t have a metaphysical reason for the fog, too?” Catherine shook her head. “I’ll shut up. I know this was difficult for you to share, and you don’t need me giving you a hard time.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She took the notebook out of the trunk and slammed it. “Actually, you took it better than I would have thought.” She glanced at Catherine. “And you’re under a strain that tends to exaggerate every emotion.”
“And you’re not?”
“Oh, yes. But it’s buried deep and just waiting to break free. I guarantee that you’ll know it when it does.” She turned toward the house. “Now let’s get this sketch started.”
* * *
“THAT’S ALL THAT WE CAN do before we haul the truck into the pound,” Detective Pierre Julian said to Joe. His words were spoken with professional courtesy, but the accent was pure Cajun. “Would you like us to do anything else? My captain said we were to cooperate with you in any way we could.”
“No, you’ve been very thorough.” It was true: Julian had gotten down to business as soon as they had reached the truck. His forensic team had swarmed all over it, but the investigation had still been done with great care. “I couldn’t have asked for a better team in Atlanta. You seem to have a hell of a lot of experience.”
“You think Atlanta’s the only place that can deal with crime?” Julian asked. “They may call New Orleans the Big Easy, but if we didn’t protect our city, the tourists wouldn’t find us that easy to come and visit.” He paused. “But we’re not used to calls from the CIA. Is this guy supposed to be a terrorist or something?”
“Or something.”
Julian shrugged. “Bad news. We’ve got to stop those creeps. I hear Homeland Security thinks they’re just walking over the Mexican border. You want me to take you back to the house?”
Joe started to nod, then shook his head. “Is there somewhere around here that someone could get his hands on scuba equipment or underwater apparatus?