Steeling myself with a deep pull from the straw, I sit on a fluffy chair next to his substantial oak desk that has enough gouges and scars in its surface for me to conclude he must have had it for a long time. “At this point, all I want is to know the truth, no matter how bad it is. I thought Devin would have more information, but our conversation was interrupted. Not that it matters. He said his car had a loose battery connection. Had it towed and everything.”
“Hmm. Just like the police report.” Broussard rubs his mustache with a thumb and forefinger, and, despite the topic of our conversation, I have to hide a smile. Dammit, I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to care about anyone else, but I’ve grown a soft spot for this man.
Forcing myself to focus, I consider his words. “I don’t know anything about cars. Is that a plausible explanation?”
He makes a so-so gesture with his hand, tipping it from side to side. “Ehh, most people familiar with cars would see it right away. But if he’s more focused on his job or has never been around cars, I assume it’s a plausible explanation.”
“Well, I guess that’s what we call a dead-end.”
“Maybe. We’ll put a pin in the car for now. I did have luck accessing your mother’s banking information with the information I found on your mother’s phone.”
I perk up. “Really? I’m assuming, based on your call, you found something.” A sick, greasy feeling twists my insides into knots. All I want are answers, but at the same time, I’m terrified of what I’m going to find. The sweet tea helps, but only a little.
“Most of the transactions were innocuous. Insurance payments for bloodwork, charities, the medspa, lawyers, clothes, dinners, etcetera. But several transactions occurred after her death. Transfers from your mother’s accounts to your father’s.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because they were her personal accounts, he couldn’t touch them until the court appointed him executor. He had to take the death certificate and the letters testamentary to the bank before they’d move a dollar.” He pauses, throat working as he drinks from his glass. “Not altogether suspicious, but there was one transaction on her account right after he got access as executor that drew my attention, so I thought I’d mention it. It’s labeled as an estate account, but a little more digging shows that’s not the case.”
“So where is the money now?”
“That I do not know, unless we got an accounting of your father’s.” He studies me over the desk. “I have people who can do this, but I wasn’t sure if that was a step you wanted to take. It’s not strictly legal.”
I imagine the circus that would be. If I didn’t have a gut feeling my father was involved in her death, I’d drop it and wouldn’t consider doing something illegal. The man clearly has no affection for me, but accusing him of murdering my mother without concrete proof would do more harm than good.
“I took the liberty to do some more digging.” My gaze shoots to his as he continues. “Around the same time, Devin Franklinstarted spending more. A lot more. A new house. Brand-new car. Expensive watches and dinners at exclusive restaurants.” He worries his mustache some more. “It may be a coincidence. He could have come into wealth on his own, but the timing itself is suspicious, so I thought it worth mentioning.”
“That would explain why he was so cagey when I tried to corner him at the reception. If he helped my father cover up the details behind my mother’s death in exchange for cash, then it would explain his lifestyle changes.”
Could he have been the one who killed my mother? If his supposed car trouble turns out to be a hoax, then he would have been at the house at the same time she was.
“There has to be some way to place him there at the time of her death. Maybe the money was payment for… for killing her.” I can barely force the last sentence through my tight throat.
“It’s an option, but I can’t say anything for certain without more information.”
“Of course. No, you’re right. But it’s not a good look.”
“It does seem damning at first blush,” Broussard admits, palming his head. “I’m going to search the area for additional footage. Maybe the police missed some home security systems from nearby properties that would have something useful. Especially if they weren’t looking for anything because they thought it was an accident.”
“They were pretty damn convinced from the beginning. Even my friend at the department, Reggie Baptiste, thought it was strange how quickly they leaned into the accidental death determination.”
“Happens more than you would think. The simplest answer is usually correct, but it’s also the fastest way to close a case, and sometimes things aren’t always as they seem.”
Touched all over again by his willingness to simply believe me, a rush of affection has me beaming at him. “Thank you.Sincerely. You can’t know how much it means to me to have someone actually listen to me and take my concerns seriously.”
“Six years ago, my wife was coming home from her shift as an ICU nurse at Louisiana General.” I nod as it’s the same hospital where Yasmine does most of her rounds. “She was hit by a man who’d fallen asleep at the wheel. She died instantly, but he made it out with only a few scratches. I knew he’d been drinking, but he was a prominent local businessman, and somehow his breathalyzer results mysteriously disappeared. Nothing I did brought her any closure. So I understand all too well the need for justice.”
“What was her name?” I ask, remembering her cheerful smile from the pictures. His unwavering devotion.
“Sylvia. Her name was Sylvia.” He looks down, emotions warring over his face before he gulps the rest of his sweet tea. I look away, giving him privacy. After a moment, he clears his throat. “Right. Well, like I said, I’m going to focus on footage from nearby cameras, and hopefully, something will turn up. I’ll also see if I can rely on my sources to get some clarity on your father’s financial dealings. If he’s in debt for gambling, like you say, then I’d bet my hat there’s something in his finances that will shed more light on what happened.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Not that he would ever give me access to his bank statements. I’m pretty sure if I showed up to his house, he or Elizabeth would slam the door in my face… or worse.
“I’m afraid not. But if you can talk to Devin again, I think he’ll be the one to crack first out of everyone. He was nervous, you said?” At my nod, he continues, “Then I would keep up the pressure. It would be worth it to have another conversation with him.”
“I’m not sure when I’ll get the chance…” My voice trails off as I remember O’Connor’s insistence that I attend the charity galawith him. “Actually, there’s an event in a month or so that I could invite my father to that he may not be able to refuse, and if he attends, then Devin will absolutely be with him. It might be the perfect opportunity to confront him again.”
“Perfect. When is the?—”
