Page 29 of Phantom
“Fuck the truce,” I spit back.
“Sol, I know you think it’s bullshit, but it’s an agreement between our families all the same. I made it with Rand’s brother, Laurent, and when you killed him, you sealed the accord. Now it extends to Rand and we should abide by the rules. We must if we’re to keep this city and our families safe.”
“You were coerced to enter thatagreementby Laurent. Andnow…he’s gone,” I point out smugly. “There’s no need to keep this farce of a truce going.”
We had all of New Orleans at one point and the Chatelains were simply a thorn in my father’s side. Then one night when I was fifteen, during our boarding school’s equivalent of spring break, all hell broke loose.
“We can’t have a repeat of that night,” Ben pleads. “I lost my father, mother—”
“And brother,” I finish, knowing the young man I was, never came back after that night.
Ben swallows but doesn’t argue with my claim. “I know. But the truce keeps our families safe, so that something like that will never happen again. You already took out Jacques Baron—”
“He was a spy who deserved to hang for all the harm he caused our families. Not to mention the fact he was assaulting women inourhome.”
“I don’t disagree. But if you rile Rand up—”
“It’s just this one case,” I argue. “Aside from the fact that it’s a cold case, something about Gus Day’s murder doesn’t make sense.”
“How so?” Ben asks.
“Well, if the Chatelains and the Days were on such good terms, why would Rand not be outraged about his death? It was on his turf.”
Ben snorts. “That’s a weak opening statement, brother. They might have had a close relationshipten yearsago, but that doesn’t mean Rand would turn over heaven and earth to find a suspect in what seems to be a random mugging, even if it was for his childhood friend. Any other details, Mr.Holmes?”
I glare at him. “Someone attacked Scarlett that night. He tried to assault her.” My fingers bite into my palms at the memory. “Her father attempted to stop him, but the attacker turned on him instead. The bastard never pulled a gun on Scarlett, saving it for the confrontation with her father. Almost like he was waiting for him and Scarlett was merely a distraction.”
“And you got all this from police reports and this snitch?” I don’t elaborate and just nod. Ben frowns and rubs his eyes. “So the attacker was waiting for him because… why? It sounds far fetched, Sol. Who would murder Gus Day? He was a beloved jazz musician, for fuck’s sake. And hell, the perpetrator wouldn’t have needed a gun with Scarlett. She’s practically a waif.”
I wince at his observation, but he’s not wrong. Watching her spark dim this past year has been torture. She’s taken care of herself mentally, but everywhere else in her life she’s a shadow of the bright light I’ve seen her to be, hiding away from the world. I’mthisclose to intervening. Hell, I did a lot more than “intervene” last night.
Physically shaking my head to push the delicious vision away, I turn back to our conversation and point to the dead man between us. “I’m not sure who would want to murder Scarlett’s father, but this guy seemed to think Day was struggling more than he let on. He was apparently in deep debt with a Chatelain man or involved in some shady shit connected with the Chatelains somehow.”
“Did he say that? That he owed someone who worked for the Chatelains?”
My jaw tics in frustration, not wanting to show my hand yet. “No, but it’s not a far stretch.”
Ben huffs. “Not a far stretch? Sol, it’s a running leap. Rand would’ve beenin chargeof that hit. He and Scarlett are childhood friends. Do you really think he’d make that call? He’s not a monster.”
“Allthe Chatelains are monsters,” I growl.
Ben’s nostrils flare and I suddenly realize I’m inches away from his face. I don’t wear my mask down here, so he’s seeing the ugliest side of me. The side ofhimthat could’ve existed if he’d been the one to sneak out that night and get kidnapped nearly a decade ago.
“I’m not your enemy,” Ben says, his voice calm and admonishing at the same time.
I jolt back and almost run my hand through my hair until I realize it’s still not perfectly clean. I go to wash my hands, leaving them under the rushing water even as it becomes scalding.
“You’re not my enemy,” I finally agree on an exhale. “I wish I could apologize, but I won’t stop until I get answers.”
“Why? What does this have to do with us? If Day was connected to the Chatelains and he died in the Garden District then he’s not our problem. What’s your end goal here? Find the murderer?”
My hands clench around the bar of soap underneath the spigot as I consider my answer. “Something like that.”
“Seriously, Sol. You have to give me a reason—”
“I can’t see Scarlett suffer anymore, okay?” I give him the partial truth. “Maybe if she knows the circumstances around her father’s death, then she can live again.”
Numbness has crept into my hands and I dry them off on another washcloth. The old spigot squeaks its protest as I shut off the water with the towel. When I turn around, Ben is staring at me with a thoughtful look.
