AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I was asking her yesterday about anyone she might have seen coming and going from Robbie Fontenot’s house. I asked her had she seen the town cops going in there. I asked because I didn’t believe they’d done much. And she said, ‘Oh, yeah, ’cause I should rat out cops.’ ”
Everyone was silent for a beat. Finally, Nick said, “That’s a serious accusation, ’Toinette.”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” she said. “This is the sequence of events. That’s what she said. This is what happened. A man was seen leaving her house last night about one fifteen in the morning. Someone brought her those drugs, and now she’s dead. That’s what I know.”
“That could also be a drug buddy or a john she partied with, and she just lost the opioid roulette game this time,” Deebo said. “Was there any sign anyone forced her to take those pills?”
“No,” Annie admitted. “And she was still alive when I found her around noon. So the guy was long gone before she took the fatal dose. But if someone gave her those pills probably knowing full well how dangerous they are…”
“But that’s not a secret,” Deebo said. “Narcotics are inherently dangerous. It’s not like she didn’t know that. It’s not like she thought she was popping breath mints. Addicts take drugs and die from it. That’s just a sad fact.”
“All right,” Nick said on a sigh. “Let’s put a pin in this for now and see what plays out. If it’s about Robbie Fontenot, we’re gonna get to the bottom of that anyway. What’d you find out about that drug house, Deebo?”
“That house is owned by a trust,” Deebo said.
Annie squinted at him. “A falling-down house in that neighborhood is owned by a trust? Are gangs getting that sophisticated now?”
“Hell no. They just take what they want. Ravenwood Trust. The trustee is listed as a Kenneth Wood of Baton Rouge. That’s as far as I got. There’s no anecdotal information on any major drug dealing in that neighborhood. It’s not like the old days when dealers stakedout a corner and did their thing. Nowadays people text their orders and pay with Venmo.”
“Y’all are gonna wanna kiss me full on the mouth!” Chaz Stokes announced as he walked into the room, arms wide, like a triumphant hero.
“Who’s he talking to?” Wynn asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Annie said. “No one here is taking him up on it.”
“I’d do it on a bet,” Deebo offered. “What’ll you give me?”
“A punch in the mouth,” Stokes said, scowling.
Deebo shrugged. “Your loss. I’m a really good kisser.”
“I’d be waiting for something to crawl up out of that beard and bite me.”
“Whatever you’re into, man!” Deebo laughed. “Let your freak flag fly, Chaz Stokes!”
“You’re hilarious, you are,” Stokes said. “Have you eaten all the pizza yet, you human garbage disposal?”
“You snooze, you lose.”
“What are we supposed to be so grateful for?” Nick asked.
Stokes pointed a finger at him. “Boss, I told you this was gonna come down to a chick, and I was right.”
He dug a slice of pepperoni out of the box and sat down on the credenza.
“Marc Mercier was at that country bar, Outlaw,” he said between bites, “on the south side of Luck Saturday night, dancing with the wrong girl, and her husband took exception. They had a little dustup.”
“Is there video?” Nick asked.
“Oh, yeah. I emailed a copy to myself.”
“Let’s go see it.”
Stokes wolfed down the last of his pizza on the walk back to the bullpen, then made a show of sitting down behind his keyboard like he was some kind of piano virtuoso sitting down to play at Carnegie Hall, cracking his knuckles before reaching for his mouse.
“This should be good,” Deebo said. “Now the boss gets to see all the Pornhub emails Chaz gets sent to his work computer.”
“Give me a little credit, please,” Chaz said. “I’ve got a fake account for that.”
