“If the app didn’t work, let me wire it.” The nephew would not have access to his aunt’s bank account for the app, but Western Union would take anything, so this seemed plausible.
Roark hooted once he had the wire info and hung up.
Ariel looked at him crossly. “Better dead.”
“More effective for ending the calls, yeah, bébé. Not better for catching a crook.” He carried his equipment from the porch to the kitchen so she could keep her routine dinner hour.
While she settled at the table with the chef salad and garlic bread he’d prepared, Roark got busy looking up officialdom near the designated Western Union office—on the outskirts of New Orleans. Figuring that office had been chosen for a reason, he went over the heads of the local authorities and sought higher ups.
He’d debated doing this earlier, only he’d been raised to be wary of officialdom. But this con was beyond reprehensible and into bloodsucker territory. It wouldn’t hurt to try the official way while he was stuck here, where no one could find him.
Ariel ate and watched him worriedly as he located names and phone numbers. “Dangerous?” she asked once he sat back to ponder alternative channels if the cops failed him.
Jax had warned they were dealing with “dark energy.” Roark translated that as some form of mafia. So, yeah, dangerous. He really shouldn’t be courting risk while sponging off Ariel. He’d have to earn his fair share of Evie’s case so he could get out of here.
But this one small fish shouldn’t be a problem. He’d make the calls where she couldn’t hear him, so she could rightfully say she wasn’t involved. “I’ll have to go into town to wire another three bucks. Shall I ride back your bike?”
She threw a piece of ham at him for ignoring her question. “Not distracted.”
He threw it back. “Waste of good food, bébé.”
She threw a crouton and carried her bowl to the sink.
He could walk out, like any mature adult. Or he could retaliate, because it was more fun. Interacting with Ariel so seldom happened—
He reached into the closet where he now knew she kept her water gun—and shot her squarely in the middle of her pretty white shirt.
* * *
“Shouldwe check on Stacey while we’re in the city?” Evie played with the power button on the used Honda she’d suckered a dealer into letting her test drive overnight.
Jax almost wished he hadn’t talked up the pricier model, but the safety features sold him. He’d seen Evie drive. She was good, but she had to have been trained by a stock car driver. On her part, Evie had reluctantly accepted that Loretta’s funds might partially pay the cost of security for their ward. Even she could see the practicality of sturdy construction and an engine that wouldn’t quit on an isolated two-lane.
The Honda’s leather seats, metallic blue paint job, and power mode gear probably sealed the deal. Hitting the highway would be the final test.
Jax stretched his legs in relative comfort and grimaced at her question. “You think you can pry more out of Marlene? You do remember Dante’s warning?”
“Now that her hair is appropriately styled for an eleven-year-old, Loretta is happily helping Reuben and Larraine choose her birthday present, so she’s safe. If you’re worried, you can stay outside and watch for demons in the parking lot.”
That was Evie being humorous. For all he knew, demons existed. Jax could name a few potential candidates. If psychics and witches were real... Why not demons? He’d start believing in Roark’s voodoo queen grandmother shortly. “If I knew what a killer looks like, I would, but I don’t. And neither do you. You just said Ursula had a martyr complex. Do I watch for burning stakes?”
The episode with the HR director had been averted when Jax had warned that having Ursula see them at her husband’s car lot could be risky. Evie had insisted on watching from around the corner as Dmitri gave his wife the day’s deposits. Jax hadn’t seen anything suspicious.
“They all seem so murky,” Evie complained with a sigh. She dodged in and out of late rush hour traffic. “Dmitri’s aura reflects his love for his wife, over top of a river of lies. Ursula has zero compassion in her aura, and is equally dipped in deception, but she has the hots for her dirtbag husband. Ghosts and auras just aren’t enough. I needrealdetective skills.”
“A ghost warned you to get Stacey out and helped find a missing diamond. True crime requires all the help we can bring to the table. Piecing the puzzle takes instincts you can hone over time.” He hoped, because he was enjoying the challenge.
He wasn’t enjoying worrying about Evie in danger or that he was actually believing in ghosts. Life was complex.
It was dark by the time they reached the Azalea Retirement Apartments. Instead of a serene nighttime lobby settling in for slumber, they entered chaos. Jax held his arm in front of Evie to prevent her from dashing in before he could recon the situation. She ducked under his arm and strode up to sign the guest register as if half the residents weren’t crushing the desk, screaming at each other.
Maybe her ADHD allowed her to take in all the arguments at once. Jax preferred taking them one at a time. Apparently, so did Lucy Murkowski, the director. Looking overwhelmed, she had retreated behind the protection of the big front desk.
“She stole my ring!” an overblown dyed blonde in stained scrubs shook the skinny arm of an Hispanic woman wearing a housekeeping uniform. The terrified maid chattered in Spanish.
“Savanna is the thief here,” shouted one of the women Jax recognized from the gathering in Granny’s apartment. “Everyone knows it.”
“Ladies, ladies, please, let’s settle down...” Murkowski practically wrung her hands attempting to separate the feuding residents.