Star Witness - By Mallory Kane Page 0,22
was baiting him. But that was okay. He’d virtually imprisoned her. She had a right to a little revenge.
“I’ll go to Mama Pinto’s. I can’t guarantee what time I’ll be back, though.”
“Get me some wine too, please. A good Chardonnay. I’ll leave the brand to you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he retorted, and touched his forehead in a mock salute. “I’ll see you tonight.”
* * *
IT TOOK HARTE more than an hour to drive to Mama Pinto’s, pick up two orders of jambalaya and get back to the B & B. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, the sky was dark with low black clouds. It looked as if any minute they would burst open and dump torrents of rain on the entire New Orleans area. As he reached for an umbrella from under his passenger seat, his cell phone rang.
“Delancey.”
“Harte, where y’at? It’s Dawson.”
“Hey,” he said to his cousin. “Just got to the B-and-B with a delivery of jambalaya for my witness.”
Dawson laughed. “Lucas told me you’ve got a tiger by the tail with Canto’s granddaughter.”
“She’s a little stubborn, but I’ve got it under control.” You wish, he told himself. “Got something for me?”
“Could be. My C.I. looked up a guy he knows who used to run errands for Yeoman.”
“Errands?” His brain immediately took the single word and raced through the possibilities—loan collector, drug dealer, hush money.
“My C.I. armed himself with a newspaper that had an article about your upcoming trial and used it to start a conversation about Yeoman with the errand boy at a bar. He kept buying the guy beers and finally he opened up. He ended up telling my C.I. that the biggest part of his job was delivering envelopes and packages to an aide who worked for several legislators.”
Harte’s pulse went through the roof. This could be it! If he could connect Yeoman to Stamps and bring them both down, a small percentage of the corruption in New Orleans would be cleaned up, and Dani could feel safe in her own home. Not to mention that the win could catapult his career. “Well?” he said.
“Well what?” Dawson responded. Harte could hear the amusement in his voice.
“Come on, Daw. Did he say who the legislators were—and what was in the packages?”
“Nope. He didn’t. But my C.I. gave me the errand boy’s name. Well, gave isn’t quite the right word.”
“I’ll pay you back. Just let me have it. This could be huge.”
“I tell you what. Sounds like you’re pretty busy with your witness, so while you’re babysitting her, I’ll have a talk with the guy and see what he’s willing to spill and how much it will cost.”
“Thanks, Dawson. But remember, anything you find out has got to be able to be confirmed. I can’t use unverified information. I definitely owe you one.”
“You definitely do.” His cousin hung up.
It had started to rain while they were talking. Harte grabbed his umbrella and hurried inside.
What he saw when he entered surprised him. Dani and Michele were sitting at the kitchen table, mugs of coffee in their hands, laughing. They looked up in unison. Dani’s smile faded and Michele set her mug down and stood.
“Hi,” Harte said, amazed at how effectively he’d doused their good time just by walking in. “Don’t stop on my account.” He set the food and wine on the kitchen counter and took off his damp coat and tie. “Where’s Field?”
“Today is his wedding anniversary. He left early and I’m covering.”
Harte frowned. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“It’s not a big deal, sir. One of us will be here twenty-four-seven.”
Harte wasn’t sure he liked not knowing exactly who would be here at any given time. He nodded reluctantly.
“I was just about to do my walk-around,” Michele said.
“Take your slicker or an umbrella,” Harte advised.
Dani and Michele both looked toward the front window.
“Wow,” Dani said. “It got dark out. The weatherman said it was going to rain, but this looks ominous.”
“Yep,” Harte agreed. “I just heard on the news that there’s a tornado watch and a severe thunderstorm watch for the entire area. They’re warning about hail and funnel clouds.”
Michele grimaced and looked at her watch. “Mom was going to take the kids to a school play at seven. I need to call and tell her not to go out.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Harte commented, just as a low rumble sounded in the distance.
Michele took out her phone and looked at the display. “I don’t have any service.” She stepped over to the window. “Still