She gives Cooper a gentle squeeze and starts moving, and my trustworthy Gladys keeps pace. I have to take a moment to admire the pasture we’re riding on—the land is firm and flat, and the grass has been closely cropped, like the place was getting ready to be turned into a golf course.

“You’re asking me to turn over thousands of pages of highly sensitive financial records to a total stranger, who isn’t even a cop anymore?”

I tug firmly on my horse’s reins, making Gladys stop completely. She snorts and stomps as I give her a sharp, demanding look.

“Ms. Beaudette,” I start, “are you aware that your cousin employs numerous armed ex–Israeli commandos as his personal bodyguards? And that your half-brother Billy has heard him make threats of violence?”

She starts to speak and then stops, trying to absorb what I’ve just told her. By her troubled expression, it looks like the answer to both questions is “No.”

“I think I have to speak with my lawyer again,” she mumbles.

Then she makes a click-click sound with her tongue, and Cooper bursts into a brisk canter back toward the stables.

“Ms. Beaudette, wait!” I call out.

But her horse doesn’t slow. And its rider doesn’t look back.

Gladys lets out a long whinny and takes a few shaky steps backward.

“Easy, girl,” I say, patting her muscular shoulders. “I know. I’m scared, too.”

CHAPTER 41

The drive back to the city takes nearly twice as long as the ride out. Traffic along I-12 is crawling, and the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway might as well be a twenty-three-mile-long parking lot. Not that I’m surprised. Mardi Gras is just around the corner and hundreds of thousands of folks are streaming in from all around the country to take part in this wonderful event.

If only they knew the hell that might be waiting for them. Stuck in gridlock just past the I-610 interchange, I shut my eyes and give them a good rub. I’m finally making some real headway in my investigation, but I’m still miles away from any solid answers—or actionable details. And it’s starting to drive me nuts. I feel like I’ve got the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and I can feel them … but I can’t see them, because I’m in a pitch-black room. I can try to guess the shapes and forms, but I also have no idea what other puzzle pieces might be out there, waiting for me in the dark.

My search for the bastards who messed up my truck and hurt Marlene is stuck in the mud, too. Just thinking about it now makes me burn with rage all over again.

But hey, at least I got a date with Vanessa out of it.

Which reminds me …

I whip out my phone and dial. On the fourth ring, Gordon Andrews picks up.