Part 22 (1/2)
”And you spent how long in prison for that?”
Dom smiled slowly. ”A long time.”
”Why would Prescott do that?”
Dom shrugged. ”A friend of his wanted something I had.”
”What?”
”Now that, my friend, is between G.o.d and me.”
”Maybe it was connected with Prescott's death.”
”Not many people liked Prescott. He was a liar and a cheat,” Dom said in a calm voice that belied his words. ”Now tell me more about your brother.”
It was obvious Dom wasn't going to say more.
They talked about several of Dom's boys for a few moments, then Gage rose. ”Thanks for looking into a job for my brother.”
”Any time. You know I always liked him.”
Preoccupied, Gage left the center. He had another item on his agenda now: a search back through the police files concerning Dom.
*Chapter Thirteen*
'NEW ORLEANS'.
Meredith tried to work as she waited for Gage Gaynor. She had been hungry earlier, but now her stomach was full of b.u.t.terflies.
She'd been an awkward child, more comfortable with books than with people, and she'd never been popular as a teenager. Her stomach always churned when she had to confront people or when attention centered on her. It had taken her years on a debate team to conquer her fear of speaking, and she was never entirely at ease in social situations.
She'd always known she wasn't the beauty that her mother had been. Not even close to it. She was tall and awkward. Her face was lean and sharp like her father's, not oval and symmetric like her mother's.
The comparison had always wounded her. She would see a visitor's double take when she was introduced. She had refused to partic.i.p.ate in the Krewe parades, feeling as if she would stand out as the ugly duckling.
She'd grown out of that feeling of inferiority. Her face had filled out a little and she'd learned how to dress to suit her figure. Confidence had been hard-earned.
But now she felt like that schoolgirl again. She hated that feeling. Another strike against Gage Gaynor for bringing all that insecurity back. She needed to feel secure and confident now. She needed to control her own life. She did not need the antic.i.p.ation bubbling inside despite her best efforts to quench it.
Meredith glanced back at the computer. Between calls to Lulu Starnes, she'd tried researching the woman on the Internet, using some sources she shouldn't. She could find nothing. Lulu Starnes must be the most law-abiding citizen in Louisiana. Meredith couldn't find so much as a parking ticket.
The woman certainly wasn't social as Meredith's mother had been or Meredith knew she would have seen the name. That was unusual behavior for a graduate of the school she'd attended. Most of the students were the daughters of the New Orleans elite and then became the New Orleans elite.
From the address Meredith had, it appeared that though Lulu had attended St. Agnes, she'd not gone on to marry among the city's elite. The address was in a working-cla.s.s neighborhood of fifty-year-old bungalows.
She tried the number she had again. No answer. Frustrated, she decided to run home and change clothes. Once there, she slipped into a new pair of slacks, then tried to call again.
This time a woman answered.
”Mrs. Starnes?”
”Yes.”
”My name is Meredith Rawson. My mother is Marguerite Thibadeau.”
”Maggie?”
Meredith had never heard her mother referred to as Maggie. ”Yes, I think so.”
”How is she?”
”She's ill.”
”I'm sorry to hear that.”
”She asked me to do something for her. I need some help. Could you possibly see me?”
”Anything for Maggie. I haven't seen her for years but I owe her a lot.”
”Why?” Meredith asked. ”If you don't mind my asking. If you do, just tell me it's not my business.”
”She didn't tell you?”
”She's in a coma. I got your name from her yearbook.”
”Oh, G.o.d,” Lulu Starnes said. ”I'm so sorry. I haven't seen her in thirty years, but she was my friend then. Probably the only one I had at school.”
Meredith was silent, allowing the silence to ask questions for her.
”I was a scholars.h.i.+p student,” Lulu said. ”Maggie befriended me, insisted I was invited to parties, made me one of her crowd. Then she dropped out. I didn't see her again. But I'll never forget her.”
”I wonder if we can meet tomorrow. I would like to hear more about her then.”
”I teach at a high school. I'll be home at five. I had a meeting this afternoon.”
”Would six be all right? That will give you some time unless it's your supper hour.”
”It's just me and Nicky, my dog. My husband died a year ago.”
”I'm sorry.”
”Thank you. I would like to hear about Maggie.”
”At six then,” Meredith said.
”I'll be there. Do you need directions?” She went on to give detailed directions.