Page 182 of The Fourth Option
“The Bureau doesn’t have a record on him. Google says Vargas officially took control of Nectar a few years ago. His mother had been running it before him, having inherited it from her husband. The mother is in hospice. Guess where?”
“Tulane Medical Center,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, playing devil’s advocate, maybe he just wanted his mother to have really good care.”
“She’s also in clinical trials for Xylaxyn made by Genyra Pharmaceuticals.”
They walked a few steps in silence, the crowd thinning as the sun dipped below the horizon at the market’s edge.
“You notify the DEA yet?” she asked.
“Not officially. Then Augie will know we are onto him. Maybe he bolts. I asked Mendez to start digging and to keep it quiet. When I suggested that Lloyd might be coordinating something with a Salvadoran sugar czar with potential ties to drug trafficking, Alvaro reminded me that the DEA’s untouchable pearl, their classified CI, is reporting information that supports the Mexican theory. He also reminded me that John Staub’s old acquaintance in the DEA, Gonzalez, was working in Mexico when he was killed, right after Walker asked about him in the Federal Building.”
“The Mexican cartel angle is the same one Lloyd keeps pushing on us,” J.J. said.
“It is. I think Lloyd is protecting Vargas, shielding him from DEA scrutiny.”
“That’s a hell of a betrayal.”
“I know,” Stanton said. He turned toward the river, watching the last light fade over a paddle wheel steamer, a tourist boat that went down to the Chalmette battlefield.
“And Leigh Ann Staub?” J.J. asked. “Why was she killed?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe she called Chris Walker to New Orleans out of desperation. Maybe she needed him to do exactly what he ended up doing—killing off the people she thought murdered her son.”
“Or maybe she just needed protection,” J.J. added.
“She could have known she was a dead woman for some reason. Something to do with Connor; information he had on their network or operation. Those bangers were looking for something in that house. They had a reason to torture her.”
“But by then, she’d already unleashed the dogs of war.”
“The truth is in there.”
“Somewhere,” J.J. said.
“What did you find out about Gloria Travois and her granddaughter?”
“That’s why I was about to call you. They each own one car, the Eagle and that old BMW. House was paid off before I was born. No warrants or outstanding traffic tickets. No IRS back taxes.”
“Clean.”
“Yes, but just before I left to meet you, I looked into deeds.”
“Property?”
“There was a property deed transferring the home near the Quarter to Gloria Travois from Alexandre Travois after his passing, along with a second deed.”
“A second deed?”
“A family cabin in the Bayou, near Jean Lafitte.”
Stanton stopped in his tracks.
“Who else knows?” he asked.
“Just us. Let’s go find Chris Walker.”
