“Prosecutor, to what do I owe this honor?” As I spoke, I gestured toward the chair where he’d been seated as I took a seat on the matching one. The room around us was filled with the bounties of my grandfather’s spoils, gifts and bribes from around the world.
One exception was the fresh bouquet of lilies sitting upon an antique table separating me and Richard Michelson. That would be Miss Guidry’s doing. At the moment, I appreciated even the minimal barrier.
We both sat.
Taking a breath, Michelson nodded and followed my lead to sit. “Today, I’m Richard,” he leaned my direction. “I’m here as a friend.”
Richard Michelson was a man small in stature. While his position made him powerful, there was nothing about his physical appearance that equated. Closer to the age my father would have been, Michelson had gained mass in his midsection over the years, as well as graying of what hair remained.
The mental reference to my father was appropriate; the bond Michelson and I shared went back to him. There was a time long ago that Richard’s daughter needed help that couldn’t be found through legal means. My father not only solved the problem, but he also provided Miss Michelson with an opportunity that lifted her entire family financially as well as in status. Everyone, including Richard, was content with the outcome, with the exception of the problem. He ended up as alligator food in the Louisiana bayou.
Never underestimate the bonds created through crime.
“My man said we had an appointment,” I said after we were both seated. “I’m most certain it wasn’t on my calendar.”
Richard took a breath as he gripped the arms of the chair. “Everett, I got wind of something that I thought you should know about.”
He had my attention. “What’s blowing in the wind these days?”
“We received a report of a possible missing person.”
I shrugged.
Wasn’t everyone missing from time to time?
“It’s a woman, a visitor to the city. Her name is Emma O’Brien.”
My attention was now focused.
“She checked into Drury Plaza yesterday afternoon,” he went on. “There had been a mix-up with her reservation. While she was waiting for that to be resolved, one of the desk clerks heard your name mentioned. Miss O’Brien was talking to her business partner, Mr. Underwood. We assume that they weren’t romantic—they had reservations for separate rooms. At some point, one of them mentioned a meeting with you.”
I shook my head. “You’ll need to be more specific, Richard. I am a busy man.”
“Everett, I have to ask, did you have a meeting with an Emma O’Brien last night?”
“I had dinner in the French Quarter. You’re welcome to speak to Elijah, the chef at Broussard’s.” Yes, Elijah was a trusted associate. I often used his private dining room for meetings of all natures—business and personal. He was extremely well compensated and knew to keep my information private. “My guest was a woman but not with the name of O’Brien.”
“Who were you with?”
My cheeks rose as I curled my lips. “I have found it’s better to not, as they say, kiss and tell.”
“Is it because she’s married?”
“Did you come here to discuss with whom I spend my cold nights? If that’s the case, I believe you’ll be bored to tears, Richard. Unlike you, I don’t have a wife of nearly forty years who waits at home for my return.”
He scoffed. “No, that’s the description of bored to tears.” He let out a deep breath. “Here’s the thing, Everett: the woman’s partner, Ross Underwood, was found this morning.”
“Found?” This was news to me.
“Yes, in his hotel room. The COD is under investigation. There’s evidence to suggest it was an overdose. What we can’t determine is if that overdose was his own doing. There will be tests, but based on what was found at the scene, it looks like oxy. A quick check confirmed that Underwood had a legal script written by a doctor in Pittsburgh, where he lived. The question remains whether what occurred last night was self-inflicted or a homicide.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “tell me what this has to do with me or his business partner.”
“As I said, your name was mentioned. If only I had heard that information, we could keep it between us, but that isn’t the case. The officer who did the interview is young. He didn’t know. Now, it’s part of an official report.”
“I’ll check my calendar, Richard. Sometimes people believe they have a meeting when they don’t.” Case in point, this assembly.
“Mr. Underwood isn’t the missing person. Miss O’Brien never returned to the hotel. Her cell phone last pinged in the French Quarter.” He leaned forward. “There’s something else that has the NOPD scratching their heads.”