Read Online G.T. Herren - Paige Tourneur 02 - Dead Housewives of New Orleans by G.T. Herren - Free Book Online
Authors: G.T. Herren
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anything.
Seriously, sometimes the small town aspects of New Orleans were quite frustrating.
I glanced back at the computer screen.
Would Chanse trace the numbers without asking me why? Would he want to know more?
Chanse was incredibly curious. I’d have to come up with a major cover story for him.
He’d be so hurt if he found out I’d been lying to him all these years.
No, best not to ask any of them for help. I’ll figure out what to do about it later.
I pulled up my contacts app and touched Venus’s cell phone number.
I need to call Venus anyway,
I thought,
and see what she knows about Fidelis’ death.
She picked up on the second ring. “Casanova.”
“Hey Venus, it’s Paige.”
She exhaled. “Aren’t you on the north shore with Ryan? What are you calling me for?”
“Long story, but I didn’t make it over there,” I replied, moving the email to the folder marked WEIRD EMAILS. “Got called back into the city because of the Fidelis Vandiver murder.” It wasn’t true, but it was a good enough cover story. She certainly wouldn’t question it… and then I remembered Blaine. “Actually, I got called back into the city for something else— it’s a long story— but I am covering Fidelis’s death. What’s going on?”
She moaned softly. “I might have known. I had a bad feeling when I saw your name on the caller ID.” Venus likes to pretend I’m a major pain in her ass, but I’ve helped her out on her cases a lot more than she likes to admit. And she knows she can trust me. I’ve never betrayed her confidence and gone public with anything she’s told me without her okay. “Yeah, Blaine and I caught the case. And yes, it’s most definitely foul play. You home?”
“Yeah.” I glanced out the window. “I’m not going anywhere in this mess.”
“Tell you what— I’m starving. I haven’t had a chance to eat all day. Me and Blaine’ll pick something up and stop by, that cool with you? Are you hungry? We can pick something up for you, too.”
“Yeah, actually, I’m starved.” I replied, startled. Usually Venus was more cagey than this. Suspicious, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Can’t a woman want something to eat without you getting all up in her business?” Venus snapped. “See you in a few.”
She hung up.
I sat there staring at the phone for a few moments. Something was up— Venus never gave in that easily. She always made me work a lot harder than this for information.
I’d known Venus for years— she was in charge of the investigation that actually made my reputation as a journalist and bounced me up from doing grunt work as the lowest of the low at the paper to actually reporting on crime in the city. I’d been running down a lead for a senior reporter at City Hall (when I said grunt work, I wasn’t kidding), which led me to the Central City neighborhood. I was still pretty new to New Orleans then, and I didn’t know a bad neighborhood from a good one. Thirsty, I’d parked on a side street and walked into a Mom and Pop grocery. I went to the cooler in the back to get a plastic bottle of Diet Coke, but it was a hot day and my hands were sweating. The damp bottle slid out of my hands, hit the floor, and rolled under a nearby shelf. I swore and got down on my hands and knees to pick it up. I had no sooner knelt down when the door opened and I looked up to see two teenagers enter the store in the big round mirror mounted in the corner. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to react. One of the teens pulled a gun and shot the man at the register three times in the chest. I froze, almost afraid to breathe, afraid to do anything that might let them know they weren’t alone in the store. It seemed like I was crouched there forever holding my breath, but I eventually found out— thanks to the security camera recording— that the whole thing took less than three minutes. The guy at the register was killed instantly.
I’m not proud to admit that I was barely
Seriously, sometimes the small town aspects of New Orleans were quite frustrating.
I glanced back at the computer screen.
Would Chanse trace the numbers without asking me why? Would he want to know more?
Chanse was incredibly curious. I’d have to come up with a major cover story for him.
He’d be so hurt if he found out I’d been lying to him all these years.
No, best not to ask any of them for help. I’ll figure out what to do about it later.
I pulled up my contacts app and touched Venus’s cell phone number.
I need to call Venus anyway,
I thought,
and see what she knows about Fidelis’ death.
She picked up on the second ring. “Casanova.”
“Hey Venus, it’s Paige.”
She exhaled. “Aren’t you on the north shore with Ryan? What are you calling me for?”
“Long story, but I didn’t make it over there,” I replied, moving the email to the folder marked WEIRD EMAILS. “Got called back into the city because of the Fidelis Vandiver murder.” It wasn’t true, but it was a good enough cover story. She certainly wouldn’t question it… and then I remembered Blaine. “Actually, I got called back into the city for something else— it’s a long story— but I am covering Fidelis’s death. What’s going on?”
She moaned softly. “I might have known. I had a bad feeling when I saw your name on the caller ID.” Venus likes to pretend I’m a major pain in her ass, but I’ve helped her out on her cases a lot more than she likes to admit. And she knows she can trust me. I’ve never betrayed her confidence and gone public with anything she’s told me without her okay. “Yeah, Blaine and I caught the case. And yes, it’s most definitely foul play. You home?”
“Yeah.” I glanced out the window. “I’m not going anywhere in this mess.”
“Tell you what— I’m starving. I haven’t had a chance to eat all day. Me and Blaine’ll pick something up and stop by, that cool with you? Are you hungry? We can pick something up for you, too.”
“Yeah, actually, I’m starved.” I replied, startled. Usually Venus was more cagey than this. Suspicious, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Can’t a woman want something to eat without you getting all up in her business?” Venus snapped. “See you in a few.”
She hung up.
I sat there staring at the phone for a few moments. Something was up— Venus never gave in that easily. She always made me work a lot harder than this for information.
I’d known Venus for years— she was in charge of the investigation that actually made my reputation as a journalist and bounced me up from doing grunt work as the lowest of the low at the paper to actually reporting on crime in the city. I’d been running down a lead for a senior reporter at City Hall (when I said grunt work, I wasn’t kidding), which led me to the Central City neighborhood. I was still pretty new to New Orleans then, and I didn’t know a bad neighborhood from a good one. Thirsty, I’d parked on a side street and walked into a Mom and Pop grocery. I went to the cooler in the back to get a plastic bottle of Diet Coke, but it was a hot day and my hands were sweating. The damp bottle slid out of my hands, hit the floor, and rolled under a nearby shelf. I swore and got down on my hands and knees to pick it up. I had no sooner knelt down when the door opened and I looked up to see two teenagers enter the store in the big round mirror mounted in the corner. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to react. One of the teens pulled a gun and shot the man at the register three times in the chest. I froze, almost afraid to breathe, afraid to do anything that might let them know they weren’t alone in the store. It seemed like I was crouched there forever holding my breath, but I eventually found out— thanks to the security camera recording— that the whole thing took less than three minutes. The guy at the register was killed instantly.
I’m not proud to admit that I was barely
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