Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)(25)

“I’m on it.”

He hung up and concentrated on the crime board he’d prepared with Detective Parks. Pictures of the dead man and the dead woman in life—and then in death. When their bodies had been discovered, and once again, at the morgue.

One a crook. One a well-liked artist—with a wretched past, or so it seemed. There was information about Tink, about his arrest record. And there was information about Shelley’s work and “Picture This.”

But he wanted more information on Marty and Nick Nicholson.

An idea occurred to him and he picked up his phone. But even as he did so, he saw that Angela was calling back.

“She’s still in New Orleans,” Angela reported. “Her name is now Katherine Willoughby. She’s in the Bywater area.” She gave him the exact address and a phone number.

Jake thanked her. “I’m going to go out and see her. Will you check something else for me?”

“Go,” Angela said.

He asked her for information on Marty and Nick Nicholson—and on murders of known criminals. “In New Orleans and surrounding areas—and in Houston, Texas.”

“You think that these people are killing crooks?” Angela asked.

“Maybe. I’m going to go through what they have at the station here, but you seem to have a magic touch.”

“You know how to flatter,” Angela told him. “By the way, how are the wedding plans going?”

“Um, great.”

“We all can’t wait, you know. Jackson has arranged for the newest recruits to hold down the fort, so he and I…”

“Yes?”

She laughed. “Hopefully, it will be a beautiful wedding for you and Ashley. And then, Jackson and I intend on a little honeymoon of our own.”

“Sounds great,” Jake assured her.

When he hung up, his thoughts were conflicted. He was determined to see if his theory was correct. He wanted to find out what had been going on since the Nicholson duo had come to town and started recruiting struggling artists.

And he was worried too. Haunted by the way Ashley had looked in the costume.

Concerned about the way the clowns had stopped and stared at her.

He found himself praying that there would be a wedding. He was so worried that he wanted to drop everything and run back to her.

She’d be furious, of course. He picked up the phone instead. He was relieved when she answered right away.

“Hey, how’s it going there?”

“Great,” she assured him. “I went for a ride this morning. I really miss having horses.”

“Maybe we can figure something out. There are stables not that far from us. Not the same as having them right outside your door, but…”

“We’ll see. I know that Varina is happy here.”

“She’d be happy anywhere. With you. Like me.”

“Ah, that’s sweet. Anyway, I’m watching some of the quickie rehearsals for tonight—and then, later, I’ll be on porch duty with Beth. I might even check out the real stuff going on. I looked us up on some social media sites—we’re really cool. Five stars all over.”

“Great,” he told her, relieved. She sounded fine.

“How are you doing?” she asked him. “Any luck? Anywhere?”

“I’m going to try to find an old friend of Shelley Broussard. See what she has to say.”

“Good. I got a strange vibe from that man—Nick Nicholson. He comes across so polished. Kind, dignified. Dedicated to the arts and to young, struggling artists. The type of people who are in abundance in New Orleans. But there’s just something about him.”

“I agree. Jackson is coming in. Our local office has a team of men out on the streets with the cops. Hopefully there will be enough men—and women—to take down that trio when they show up next. In whatever costume they choose to wear.”

“I hope so. And don’t worry. I’m working here. You do your work—catch these horrible people. I’m fine and I won’t be alone,” she assured him. “I am busy, busy, busy, too.”

He smiled at her ability to soothe him and lighten the mood at the same time. She was the best, always. And as dedicated to the Krewe as he was. Determined to let him use his talents. First to save lives. And then to find justice for those that had been lost.

“Love you,” he said.

“You, too.”

He hung up. He was heading out to see Katey. Katherine DuLac Willoughby. And he hoped that she was the key.

For all their sakes.





Ashley wasn’t busy. She’d been preparing an attraction with Cliff, but now she was in her room.

Studying the painting.

The painting created by Shelley Broussard.

Ashley realized, following news reports and her dream, that Shelley had painted a big-eyed version of herself in the scene. And equally, she knew why Jake had been so upset last night. She and Shelley had been built alike. True, her eyes were blue while Shelley’s had been a deep brown, but they both had long blonde hair, worn almost the same way. In the costume…

She might have looked like a ghost to the killers.

The very ghost now haunting her dreams.

Staring at the picture was getting her nowhere. She was convinced that she was right, and she knew that the ghost was trying to reach her, but only seemed to touch her dreams.