“Three days before all this happened. He was headed into town to interview for a job. I’m guessing he didn’t get it.” He opened the door of the shack for the men and they stepped inside.
In spite of its condition, there was running water and electricity. There was a small bed in the corner with a blanket and pillow neatly folded at the end of the bed. There was a towel hanging from the towel bar next to the sink.
But it was the table that drew their eyes.
“He taped the shotgun to the table,” said the man.
They all nodded, remembering the reports and photographs they’d seen. He’d duct taped the shotgun to the table, pointing directly at the chair. Using a long metal rod, he’d been able to push the trigger, taking the full brunt of the gun close range.
“Where was his interview in the city?” asked Chase.
“Brennan Brothers Lumber. They’re off Park. It would have been perfect for him. He loved physical labor, felt like it engaged his mind and body.”
“He sounds like a good man,” said Torro.
“He was. Listen if you go to Brennan Brothers, tell them I met with you. They were freaked out by this as well.”
“Why? They didn’t have anything to do with this,” said Hex.
“I don’t know. They just said that nothing made sense to them.”
Nothing was making sense to any of them. A man didn’t figure out a way to shoot himself if he had something live for. Then again, maybe he had nothing to live for.
The lumber yard was closed for lunch, so Chase, Hex, and Torro went across the street to a small grocery store deli that had tables and chairs inside for diners. The menu was typical New Orleans food, po’boys, sandwiches, muffalettas, gumbo, and red beans and rice.
“He went to a lot of trouble to kill himself,” said Chase. “He could have taken drugs, jumped off a bridge, anything. To get that gun positioned the way he wanted took time and thought. It was well-planned and executed.”
They ate in silence, all wondering what was in Casimir’s thoughts before his death. When the gates opened at the lumber yard again, they walked across the street and spoke to the human resources manager.
“Oh, yes. I heard about Mr. Costello,” said the woman. “We were very sad about his death.”
“Did you know him other than the interview?” asked Chase, confused by the statement.
“No, but we were looking forward to him starting with us the following week. We were thrilled to hire him.”
“You hired him?” asked Hex.
“Yes,” she smiled. “He was perfect for the job. In fact, we hired him as a shift manager. Much more pay than what he was originally interviewing for. The job had benefits, great pay, everything. I’m sure his wife was happy.”
“His wife?”
“Yes. He left and walked over to the grocery. I saw him speaking to a woman I assumed was his wife. There were kids in the car waiting for her. She hugged him and left with the kids.”
“Did he leave after that?” asked Torro.
“No. In fact, I watched him go in the store. I walked over about an hour later and he was still sitting there sipping a coffee. I smiled at him, waved and told him we looked forward to seeing him the following week.”
“You’ve been very helpful,” said Hex. “Thank you for your time.”
As they drove back to Belle Fleur, the men were so puzzled, they weren’t sure what to tell the others.
“He had the job, a woman we can assume was his wife was there with kids, and then he kills himself. Why?”
“I think we need to speak to his wife,” said Torro. Chase frowned at him, shaking his head.
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
