Page 79 of The Shop on Royal Street
“Not yet. And Jolene asked me to wait until she gets back from Mississippi to go through them. But I plan to as soon as she does. I’m guessing it’s going to be just a few days, and I think it might be a bit of a mental-health break, so I don’t want to press her.”
Jaxson turned away, but because of his fair skin the growing flush on his neck gave him away.
“Let me know if you find anything, if you would,” Uncle Bernie said. “I’d like to update the fellows in my poker group.” He contemplated me with steady eyes beneath his bushy brows. “And now we need to discuss Sunny Ryan’s disappearance.”
He and Jaxson shared a quick glance before Bernie continued. “I’ve been told, very strongly, that I am not to dig any deeper into the Sunny Ryan case. That comes from up high, and the warning is clear. If I were a younger man, I’d take on the challenge. But I’m not.”
“What do you mean, ‘from up high’? People in the police department?”
“Higher. Even higher than the mayor and the governor.”
“Higher?” I knew I sounded naïve, and maybe I was. I watched a lot of true-crime shows, but those stories were always about otherpeople and other lives that had no connection to me. But this story was about the missing sister of someone with whom I shared a relationship, whether or not either one of us wanted to admit it. The evidence that Bernie had found tying Beau’s grandfather into an early halt to the investigation made it impossible to forget and let go of even if I’d wanted to. Mimi’s abrupt denial and dismissal only made it harder.
Charles Ryan had been a doctor, and he’d died the year after Sunny and her parents disappeared. Up until that time, he had been the landlord of my house. It was a slim connection at best, but one I couldn’t ignore, even if there wasn’t enough substance there to grasp. Or maybe I just didn’t want to ignore it. I could guess what Bernie meant by “higher,” but I didn’t want to say it out loud. Because that would mean dragging a world that I had always kept behind a television screen into my living room.
Jaxson glanced around as if to make sure no one was close enough to hear. In a subdued voice, he said, “There are people in this city who answer to no one, who have their fingers in every kind of enterprise, both legitimate and not. They are power brokers and influence peddlers and exist in all corners of society. And they are ruthless, and will stop at nothing to get what they want. Unfortunately, as soon as one is brought to justice, his—or her—place is filled with two or three more. It doesn’t mean we don’t keep trying, even though a lot of people think that because it’s the way it’s always been it can’t be changed. I happen to disagree, but I’m just a lowly public defender.”
“But Sunny was just a little girl. How could she possibly have anything to do with organized crime or any other sort of profiteering?”
“Are you familiar with Carl Jung and his theory of synchronicity?” Uncle Bernie peered at me over his glasses, and I felt as if I’d just been called on in class.
“Vaguely. From a psychology course I took in undergrad. Something to do with connections.”
He cleared his throat and quoted, “ ‘The simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.’ I had that on a poster in my old office and now Ihave it hung in my office at home, which is why I still remember it in my old age. To me, it’s the basis of all solid detective work. If two separate events occur at the same time with no apparent connection, don’t assume that they’re not connected.”
My phone buzzed with an incoming call, and when I looked at the screen I saw it was from Beau. I quickly hitdecline. “So you’re not going to keep looking.”
“No,” Bernie said. “And neither should you. The threat is real. We can’t win. Trust me, I know. And it’s dangerous. If they can make a child disappear, imagine what they’d do to anyone questioning them or their actions. I’ve seen bodies of people who got in their way. I don’t want you, or Beau, or Jaxson to end up like that.”
“So that’s it, then. Case closed. And if Sunny Ryan isn’t dead and is out there somewhere, she most likely doesn’t know her real name or that she has a brother and grandmother who miss her and would love to have her back.”
“Unless you have a connection we don’t know about and can ask Charles Ryan directly, I suggest we all walk away from this investigation.”
Bernie looked genuinely regretful. I reached over and squeezed his hand resting on the brass pelican at the head of his cane to hide my disappointment and to let him know that I didn’t blame him. “You’re right. Nobody else should get hurt. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep thinking about it. Who knows?” I shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get sent a clue from beyond. Because otherwise we don’t have a chance in hell of figuring out what really happened.”
Jaxson looked at his watch, then stood. “We should leave now if you want to get to work on time. My car’s parked on Freret, so we can stop for a caffeine infusion at the PJ’s in the Percival Stern building on the way.”
“That would be great, thanks.” We each took hold of one of Uncle Bernie’s elbows and helped him stand.
Bernie looked at me again with his piercing blue eyes. “You’re a smart girl, Nola. Like your daddy. I’ve read all of his books, you know.And I happen to agree with him that there’s no such thing as coincidence. Just this once, you need to pretend that there is.”
There were too many unrelated pieces of information floating around my brain, touching, then ricocheting off one another, bringing back my headache. We began walking slowly toward the coffee shop, my thoughts tumbling over themselves, and I was unable to stop myself from wanting something a lot stronger than caffeine.
CHAPTER 25
It was almost lunchtime before I realized that I hadn’t received any calls or texts all morning, belatedly remembering that I had turned off my phone during my meeting with Jaxson and Uncle Bernie. I flipped it on and was immediately deluged with forty-four texts. Almost half of them were from Jolene with pictures from her “day of beauty” with her mother and grandmother (both redheads); twelve were from Beau, which I immediately deleted without reading because I wasn’t in the mood to be scolded by someone who needed to look in the mirror; and the rest were from Michael, as well as a missed call from him.
Without wanting to waste time reading his messages, I quickly hitredial. He answered on the first ring.
“I was starting to think you were ghosting me.” His voice sounded even sexier over the phone.
“Sorry—I turned my phone off for a meeting this morning and forgot to turn it back on.” I probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but I already felt that we were beyond the game-playing stage.
“I was hoping you might be free for dinner tonight. I know I shouldn’t be asking for a second date so soon after the first, but I’d really like to see you again.”
I smiled. “Glad to know we’re on the same page. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
