CHAPTER 25

“GRADY! DIDN’T I JUST see you about an hour ago?”

He grinned and stepped in as Whitney opened the door wider for him.

“Yeah. I need your help. Are you up to a little reading?”

On the way downtown, he got Sally on the phone.

“I need a favor,” he said. “Can you get me into the Time-Picayune’s morgue?”

He could and he would. “They’ll be expecting you,” he said. “Soon as I hang up, I’ll call them.”

“You can’t just go in and look at them?” Whitney asked. “Isn’t that open to the public?”

Grady explained that no, usually it was difficult for just anybody to gain access to a newspaper’s files. They had to have a compelling reason and normally go through all kinds of red tape. Cops were different. Cops were usually allowed access normal citizens weren’t.

“But you’re not a cop anymore,” she said. “And your friend Sally’s retired too, isn’t he?”

He was, he agreed. “But Sally has more contacts than an octopus in love,” he explained. “I knew if anybody could get me in in short notice, that guy could.”

Sure enough, five minutes after they entered the lobby of the newspaper and explained their business, a security guard came out and escorted them to the basement.

“What are we looking for?” Whitney asked, after Grady showed her how to use the files and the microfiche machine.

“Here,” he said. “Make a copy of this and look up every name on it. Get everything you can get on each name.”

It was his list of names scrawled on a sheet of notepaper. He pointed to the copy machine in the corner and handed her a handful of change.

“What are these names?” was her first question when she returned with her copy. She handed the original back to Grady.

“It’s the name of every single person I know about that’s come up in this case. Most of them I got from Sally. Some I copied down last night, listening to the boys downstairs.”

“Oh,” she said. “Is this a case?”

He smiled. “Well, not officially. Not down here it isn’t. But it is. In my mind, it sure is.”

She nodded. “Will this do any good?”

“Maybe. Who knows? It’s the only way I know how to solve a case, though.”

She began flipping through the files. “So this is police work!”

“Yeah,” intoned Grady, busy looking through his own fis. “Pretty boring, isn’t it? Even more than stakeouts.”

They worked almost in total silence for the next hour. Once in a while Whitney would spot something in an article about one of the names on the list and ask Grady if it was important. Each time it wasn’t.

Finally, he finished the part of the list he was working on. He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

“How you coming?” he said. “‘Bout done?”

Whitney nodded. “Just finishing up this guy. Only a couple more things on him. Man! He’s got more on him than everyone else combined. This guy really likes being in the paper.”

Grady looked over to see the name she was working on.

“Shit,” he said, in a soft whisper.

“What?”

“Well...” He got up and did a deep knee bend to loosen the knots in his calves. He straightened back up. “I was hoping to find something...but this guy...he’s the least likely of all. I don’t even know why I put him on the list. It was just a guy Sally said something about. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“No,” she said. “I started this and I’m going to finish it.” She continued rolling the microfiche.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning over her shoulder. “Christ! You’re thirty years back!”

“Is that bad?” she said, craning to look at his eyes.

“No,” he said, wearily, passing his hand over his eyes. “It’s just pretty unlikely you’re going to find anything useful that far back. Especially with him. I don’t think he fits in anywhere.”

“I don’t care,” she said, stubbornly, bending to watch the screen. “I don’t like to stop something until I’m done.”

“Whatever,” Grady said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “You’re not only beautiful, you’re even more tenacious than I am. You’d make a good cop.”

She smiled. “Well, I’d have to join the canine corps. The only branch for this woman!” He thrilled at her smile. He wasn’t used to paying compliments to women, at least compliments he was sincere about, but they seemed to come natural when directed at Whitney. A talent that obviously depends on your feelings, he guessed.

“Here,” he said. “Let me finish up. Why don’t you go see if you can scarf a cup of coffee for us. These newspaper guys all have coffee. See if somebody will get up off some for us.”

“Okay,” she said, pushing back her chair. “You’re probably right. I need a break, anyway.”

While she was gone, Grady idly forwarded the machine, scarcely watching the print as it scrolled by. An item rolled by, so small he almost missed it. In fact, he did miss it, the first time. Just for the heck of it, he rolled it back.

At first, it looked like all the other articles. Just another notice, one of those little things that almost qualify as a filler for a newspaper. Like the police blotter. The only folks interested in such things were the relatives. He was just skimming along, when all of a sudden, a word struck his eye. A name. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Quickly, he scrolled the article back down. The first few sentences had already disappeared into the edge. He read the whole piece. Then again.

Whitney came walking in with two white Styrofoam cups.

“Hey,” she said. “You were right. They all drink coffee. I got yours black. I hope that’s...” She stopped, mid-sentence, at the look on Grady’s face.

“You found something, didn’t you.”

He nodded.

“Look at this.” He watched as she read the article.

“My God,” was all she said when she finished. She looked up at him, her eyes perfect moons. “Titus Derbigny!”

“Exactly,” was his own response.

***

They were walking out of the Times-Picayune building, when Grady said, “This proves one thing.”

Whitney looked at him, questioningly.

“Always follow the money. It’s a good precept.”

She shook her head in agreement. “There’s another precept my mother always used to say that applies here.”

“What’s that,” he said, holding the car door open for her.

“Shake a closet hard enough and skeletons fall out.”

He cocked his finger like a gun at her and they both laughed. There wasn’t much mirth in their laughter, however.

In the car Grady told her what he was thinking. It made sense to her.

“It isn’t really about the money at all,” he said.

“Revenge?” she said, more a statement than a question.

“Yes. Look. Can you do something for me? Find out where this guy lives, get me a map?”

She could do that.

They drove in silence for a few more blocks. They were stopped at a light when Grady said, “Do you think my plan is wrong?”

Her eyes were serious and thoughtful. “Technically, maybe.”

Grady frowned.

“But there’s a word that describes it perfectly,” she added.

“What’s that?” The light changed and he put his foot on the gas.

“Just.”

She smiled and with her smile he knew he had made the right decision.

“It’s eminently just. In fact, it’s so just, it’s perfect.”

His own smile turned into a huge grin.