“Do you know that he was doing that for certain?”
“No. But it’s a motive.”
“A motive? I thought you no longer had her as a suspect?” I asked.
His head shook. “Officially, Everett, she isn’t. The i’s are getting dotted and t’s crossed. By the end of the week, Underwood’s death will be ruled a suicide. But fuck, it opens the door to more questions. His parents have already hired an attorney. And there’s still the missing Miss Emma O’Brien.”
Richard let out an exaggerated breath and sat again.
“Is there any way to learn who was depositing Bitcoin in Underwood’s Kraken account?” It was a genuine question. As soon as this meeting was over, I would be on the phone with my people to find out how they missed this and what they could learn.
“Most cryptocurrency is associated with number codes. Hell, Everett, it’s all Greek to me. The new girl, she brought me something that made me decide I should see you again, so when you called for this meeting, I knew I needed to tell you what I know.” Perspiration dotted his brow, glistening in the sunshine from the window.
“Richard, are you well?”
He reached for a small notebook from his suit coat’s inside pocket. As he thumbed the pages, I thought about the contrast in an old-fashioned notebook and discussing one of the newest forms of currency.
“Here it is.” Michelson took a deep breath and began to read. “K-1-21112-135121111820.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“She explained it to me like this: if you take our alphabet and number each letter—A is one and so on—that number combination would spell Baal Melkart.” When I didn’t respond, he went on, “Baal refers to god or lord. The reference is to a biblical story from 1 Kings—thus the K and one. Baal Melkart was the Tyrian god of nature. Remember, the people of Phoenicia were not monotheistic but rather worshippers of many gods and goddesses.”
My mind was searching desperately through Sunday school lessons from over thirty-five years ago. “First Kings? It’s been a while since I heard my mother’s daily devotionals, Richard.”
“You might recall the story, the daughter of the priest-king Ethbaal. He was the ruler of the Phoenician cities Tyre and Sidon.”
Tyre and Sidon were ancient names of current regions.
I stood. “Why are we discussing Lebanon?”
“Who was the daughter of the priest-king, Everett? She was sent to Israel to marry King Ahab.”
The answer sent a cold chill down my spine. “Jezebel.”
Richard nodded. “Listen, I got along well with your father and Isaiah Boudreau. Things change. I’ve been as loyal to you as I can and still keep my job. I’m not deaf and neither are others in the department. Hell, we’ve even fielded some calls from the feds.”
“What are you saying?” I asked as I stood taller, easily seven inches over Richard Michelson.
“I’m saying that it’s beenalmosteight years since Abraham and Isaiah died. Call it New Orleans superstition, but sevens are significant. You know as well as I do that there’s been rumblings of discontent in the greater parishes. This city was divided into Ramses and Boudreau. There are still those who had their allegiance with Isaiah and are willing to entertain stories of a Boudreau return.”
“You’ve been watching too many ghost stories, Richard. The dead stay dead.”
“I think that there’s a plot underfoot. Emma O’Brien came to New Orleans either knowingly or unknowingly to stake a claim on her heritage. That deal I brokered, it was an adoption. I think someone paid Underwood to get Miss O’Brien here. Not only to get her here, but to keep her busy until the time was right.”
“In cryptocurrency?” I was trying to keep his story straight. I hadn’t used cryptocurrency. Hell, I hadn’t even contacted Underwood until a few months ago. “When did Underwood begin receiving the Bitcoin deposits?”
“Around eighteen months ago.”
“And there’s no way to trace it?” I asked.
“The feds want to nose around. They don’t give a shit about Underwood, but he opened the door. Suicide will stick, but if they have their druthers, those boys can get nosy. This talk of Boudreau could come back to you, Everett. You’re Abraham’s only child, only son. No one questioned you taking over what had been in your family.
“I remember when this went down. The whole damn city knew Miss North was with child,” he continued. “They also knew who the father was.” He shook his head. “I doubt some literature major with computer savvy came to New Orleans to take your place. I think she’s a pawn in someone else’s game.”
“Are you saying that this Emma O’Brien is that child?”
“We really need to talk to her if you have any idea where she went.”