Monday Mourning

”

“We need to get into that house, Ryan.”

“The pizza parlor bust isn’t my case.”

“The Louise Parent homicide is. Menard-whoever probably killed Parent to keep her from talking to me.”

I heard a match, then slow exhalation.

“I want Claudel and Charbonneau to hear this. You going to be there awhile?”

“I’ll wait.”

Ryan called back at nine to tell me they’d rendezvous at my place at eleven.

“Claudel agreed?”

“Luc’s a good cop.”

“With all the charisma of the Night Stalker. I’ll make coffee.

"Knowing Claudel would be hard to convince, I spent the next hour online arming myself with as much information as possible.

Claudel arrived first, wearing his usual arrogant frown.

“Bonjour,” I said, gesturing him to the sofa.

“Bonjour.”

Claudel removed his overcoat. I took it.

Claudel tugged each Armani sleeve to cover each antiseptically white Burberry cuff, then sat and crossed his legs.

“Café?” I offered.

“No.” Claudel made a show of checking his watch.

Ryan and Charbonneau showed up within minutes of each other, each in faded jeans and sweater. Ryan had hit a patisserie on his way.

I filled mugs of coffee for Ryan and Charbonneau, then the three of us helped ourselves to pastries. Throughout, Claudel maintained his this-better-be-good detachment.

Ryan kick-started the meeting.

“Tempe, tell these guys what you told me.” He turned to Claudel. “Luc, I want you to hear her out.”

I started churning out the words.

“On May 19, 1977, a twenty-year-old woman named Colleen Stan set out to hitchhike from Eugene, Oregon, to Westwood, California. After several rides she was picked up by Cameron Hooker and his wife, Jan. The Hookers drove Stan to the Lassen National Forest, handcuffed, blindfolded, bound, and gagged her, and took her to their home.”

Birdie strolled in, sniffed two pairs of boots and one pair of loafers, made his choice.

“The little guy likes you, Luc.

“Sorry.” I jumped up and removed my cat from Claudel’s lap.

Birdie, in as much as cats are capable, looked offended.

“Cameron Hooker kept Colleen Stan sealed in total darkness, subjected to complete sensory deprivation, for up to twenty-three hours per day. For seven years.”

“Sonovabitch,” Charbonneau said.

“Hooker imprisoned Stan in a series of boxes he designed specifically for that purpose.