Page 135 of Buried Too Deep

“Just the four of us,” Burke said. “Molly doesn’t come on shift for a few hours. So…I will tell you, but can you first tell me who else has come by to visit?”

“André Holmes and his fiancée, Farrah. André’s brother and his parents. Farrah’s parents—her daddy says to tell you hello, Phin. He was worried about you.”

Phin had met the man on their last job. He was grateful to Oscar for keeping him steady enough to be transported home. Where Phin had promptly gotten into his old truck and headed for Stone and Delores’s house in Ohio.

“I’ll stop by his house and tell him hello back,” Phin promised. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Phin. Let me see. My kids, of course. They haven’t left. Those sweet girls from Marica’s Bakery. They brought me chocolate cupcakes. They said they were for the nursing staff, but I knew the truth. I waited until the nurses were gone and ate one. Got busted by the nurse who stole the rest of the box right out from under my nose.” She sighed. “Tandy Napier’s been here. Her daddy, too. We haven’t really talked in years, not since his wife passed. We had a nice chat.” She audibly brightened. “The ladies from Houston came. We had us a fine visit. That was so sweet of them to drive all that way.”

Phin had met the ladies from Houston on an earlier case. They had become fast friends with Joy. It was no surprise they’d come to see her.

“How about get-well cards, Joy?” Phin said. “Any of those?”

“Why?” Joy asked, all levity gone from her voice.

“We think we have a lead on Cora’s father’s killer,” Burke said quietly. “We need a handwriting sample. Did anyone leave you a card?”

“Only Jace. He was so proud of himself because he wrote the message himself.”

Jace was Val’s adopted son and struggled with dyslexia. That he’d written a note of any length was a major achievement.

I need to see him. The kid craved affection and male role models.

Not that Phin was the best role model, but he genuinely liked the boy. He’d make time for him as soon as he could.

“So nothing else,” Burke asked, disappointed. “Look, Joy. How well do you know Patrick Napier?”

There was a shocked gasp on the other end of the line. “He shot me?”

“No, we don’t think so,” Burke said hastily. “Wrong body type. But he might be somehow involved.”

Joy was quiet a moment. “The letters.”

“Goddamn, she’s smart,” Antoine said.

“Damn straight,” Joy replied without missing a beat. “Don’t you forget it. Did he write the letters, Burke?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“If he did, he could have been simply trying to make Cora feel better. Like her daddy still loved her, even though he was a lying, cheating sack of shit.”

Val blinked. “He was dead, Joy.”

“I know that,” Joy said, disgruntled. “But Cora didn’t. Nor did Patrick.” Another pause, and then she seemed to understand it all. “Oh my God, Burke, you can’t be serious. Patrick Napier cannot have killed Cora’s daddy. I’ve known Patrick since my girls were little. Nala went to school with Cora and Tandy. We did car pools and slumber parties.” She sounded pained. “I don’t know him as well as Priscilla did, but he’s a good man. He fixed my garbage disposal once. I had to refix it, because he’s a bad handyman, but his heart is in the right place. Tell me he’s not on your suspect list. Tell me.”

Burke winced. “We don’t want to be right. If we can exclude him quickly, more’s the better.”

Joy sighed. “What do you need from me? Want me to get him to write something?”

“Yes,” Burke replied. “Something with a lowercase r.”

“ ‘Your dad, Jack Elliot,’ ” Joy said sadly. “For fuck’s sake, this is a nightmare. Poor Cora. Does she know?”

“Yes,” Phin said. “She’s as upset as you’d expect. They knew each other, Joy—Cora’s dad and Patrick. Pledged to the same frat at LSU.”

“Motherfucker,” Joy breathed. “I never knew about that. I don’t think Priscilla knew, either. Motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” Burke said with a sigh. “That’s what we thought, too.”

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