Crescent City Connection

called.
    “Detective Langdon, I got an odd call from Natalie Rosenbusch.” Her voice was lightly accented—Southern but somehow almost British—one of those unplaceable accents self-invented people have. It sounded stiff, almost starched, as if she were holding it tight, keeping it from trembling.
    “Ah, Mrs. Owens. I’m sorry to bother you, but your granddaughter, Lovelace, has disappeared and I thought…”
    “I beg your pardon, could you say the girl’s name again, please?”
    Oh, Christ. I wonder if she even knows she’s got a granddaughter.
    “Lovelace. Daniel Jacomine’s daughter.”
    Rosemarie made some kind of a sound—something midway between a sob and a gasp—but said nothing.
    Skip said, “Look, it sounds as if you’re pretty surprised. I wonder if you even knew you have a granddaughter.”
    “I really don’t…”
    “We have a situation here. The girl may be in grave danger. Your ex-husband, Errol Jacomine, is the subject of an intense investigation both by our department and by the FBI. I need you to cooperate with us. Now. There isn’t time to think this over.”
    “My God. That must be what the FBI wants. What’s happening?”
    “Your granddaughter was kidnapped—”
    “Kidnapped? From where?”
    “From Northwestern. Where she’s a sophomore.”
    “Jesus. She’s grown up.”
    “Mrs. Owens, could you hear me out, please?” Skip started from the beginning. “Your son, Daniel, has one daughter, Lovelace, who’s twenty and a sophomore at Northwestern. He’s divorced, but there’s no custody question—that’s long since been settled. However, several days ago, he kidnapped Lovelace and drugged her. Lovelace escaped and we have no idea where she is. We also have no idea where Daniel is, but we suspect he’s with your ex-husband, Errol Jacomine, who I’m sure you know is an extremely dangerous man, wanted in at least two murders. We believe your granddaughter is in a great deal of danger.”
    “Well, this is quite a bit to swallow.” Indeed, she sounded choked.
    “I’m sure you understand we wouldn’t call you if we could possibly have avoided it.”
    “Detective Langdon, all I can say is you must be a mighty desperate woman. I haven’t seen my son Daniel since he was seven years old—I believe he’d be over forty by now. And I certainly haven’t seen or heard from Errol Jacomine. To answer the only question you’ve actually asked me so far, no, I wasn’t aware I had a granddaughter. What on Earth can I possibly do for you?”
    You’re right,
she thought.
I’m as desperate as they come. And you sound like one cool customer
. She said, “Well, you’ve answered one of my implied questions, which was ‘Have you seen Errol Jacomine lately?’ Let me expand on that. Have you any idea where he is?”
    “None whatsoever. When we left Savannah together at the respective ages of sixteen and fifteen, we didn’t get any farther than Alabama. I was a young mother waiting tables while trying to take care of my child. Daniel’s father didn’t care any more about him than he did about that poor dog he killed that used to bark all night and keep him up.”
    “Your dog?”
    “The neighbor’s. Earl took care of Daniel while I was at work, which usually meant he invited his buddies over to play cards and threw the kid a peanut butter sandwich now and then.”
    “Did he work?”
    “Well, he brought in a little money. Yes, he did. I have to give him credit for that.”
    “What did he do exactly?”
    “Why, he preached in a garage. And passed the collection plate. He had fliers printed to advertise himself—just like he was putting on a play.”
    “At sixteen he did this?”
    “For a while he did what I did—waited tables—and I swear I believe he robbed a store now and then, although he never admitted it. But he did have sudden influxes of money. Meanwhile, he met a very interesting charismatic preacher—he’s dead now, I heard—that Earl kind of learned his trade from. And I’ll tell you something, Detective. Earl was good. Not-a-dry-eye-in-the-house kind of good. That man could preach the pants off the choir—and did, too. Why, yes he most assuredly did.”
    “Is that why you left him?”
    “Oh, no. That’s not why I left him. You have no idea why I left him, young lady, and you don’t want to.”
    Oh, I do. I do.
She said, “Actually, I had a few encounters with him and I’m a lot more puzzled about what anyone would be doing with him in the