Page 57 of Buried Too Deep

“Well, first we’ll cross-check locations against the client list that Antoine will pull from those disks he found. And if there are no out-of-town clients, then we have to assume one of two things. First, that maybe he was involved in something—not accounting related—where he did a job for one person and moved on to the next.”

Which might be something legal. Please, let it have been legal.

“The second assumption?”

Molly met her gaze. “That he was going to different places to throw off anyone tracking his movements.”

“Like my mother?”

“Or the governing board that regulates and disciplines accountants.” Molly put the hotel receipt in the finished pile and pulled another from the folder. “But the very fact that he kept all these receipts is a mark in the legal column. If I were doing something shady, I sure wouldn’t keep receipts.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me too,” Molly said as she slid the next receipt under the glass. “Huh. Your father bought something from a gun store in Twin Falls, Idaho, just two weeks before he died. Specifically, .30-30 shells. Three boxes. That’s a fair amount of ammo.” She straightened and looked at Cora. “Did your father own a gun?”

Cora blinked. “Not that I know of. Mama hated guns. I think they would have argued over him having a gun in the house when we were little, but I don’t remember that.”

“You were only five when he disappeared,” Molly said gently.

“True. Those shells, the .30-30. That’s rifle ammo, isn’t it?”

“It is. He could have been hunting, I suppose.”

Cora bit her lip. “Maybe. But you don’t think so.”

“I don’t know what I think. Enter this: Bullseye gun store, Twin Falls, Idaho, October first. Memo: three boxes of .30-30 shells.” Molly put the receipt in the finished pile. “We’ll keep a lookout for more guns or ammo purchases.” She’d started to reach for another receipt when her phone began to buzz. “Excuse me. This is Burke.”

Molly put the phone to her ear. “Well?” She listened for a moment. “She’s here. I’ll put you on speaker.” She set the phone on the table. “We’re here, Burke.”

“Hey, Cora,” Burke said, his tone easy and unruffled. That had to be good, right?

“Hey, Burke. What happened with the dead man?”

“Cops are processing the scene. The ME came and took him to the morgue.”

Cora frowned. “And I bet they won’t share information with us.”

“Maybe,” Burke drawled. “We have a source inside the morgue who sometimes tells us stuff.”

“One of Antoine’s brothers is doing his residency there,” Molly told Cora. “We try not to ask for info unless it’s important, but this qualifies.”

“It certainly does,” Burke agreed. “André came to the crime scene, Molly. They’re going to investigate it as a homicide.”

“Who’s André?” Cora whispered.

“Another of Antoine’s brothers,” Molly said. “He’s a captain in the NOPD. He and Burke used to work together before Burke quit the force to start the firm. That’s good, Burke. Hopefully we’ll get some answers.”

“Well, it got a little more complicated when the cops knocked on the door of the dead man’s house. They figured they’d find the wife asleep, but she’s dead, too. Dead in her bed. André said she appeared to be an addict. Track marks on both arms.”

“How did she die?” Molly asked. “Was it an overdose?”

“Maybe, but the ME suspects suffocation.”

Cora’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”

Molly patted her other hand. “You don’t have to stay here and listen.”

“Sorry, Cora,” Burke said.

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