Murder in the Irish Channel (Chanse MacLeod Mysteries) by Greg Herren Page B

church, and the arrests the day before.” She got up and started another pot of coffee. “But if you want to know what I believed, I thought she was focusing on the church because she was really stressed about the lawsuit.”
    “What lawsuit?” I stared at her. “I haven’t heard anything about a lawsuit.”
    She sat back down, with a sigh. “Jonny didn’t say anything to you about it?” She rolled her eyes. “After Dad was killed, Mom stayed home with Jonny until he started school. Once he was in school, she took a job with Marino Properties. She was a property manager for an apartment complex they owned on the West Bank somewhere. Cypress Gardens, or something like that.”
    “I thought property managers had to live on the premises.”
    She shook her head. “No, she had an office there, and was on call. There was a maintenance guy who lived on the property. The place was pretty much uninhabitable after Katrina.”
    “But the West Bank didn’t flood.”
    “Wind damage, is what Marino Properties was claiming. Roof damage, windows blown out, that kind of thing. The insurance company claims there was only about fifty grand or so that was caused by the hurricane—that Marino Properties is trying to collect millions fraudulently. Mom was going to be a star witness for Marino Properties. She didn’t evacuate, and as soon as she was able, she got over there and looked the place over. Went through every unit, took pictures and everything. The trial is going to start in about a month or so, I think.”
    I stared at her. “Seriously? An insurance company is going to actually allow a Katrina claim dispute to go to court in Orleans Parish?”
    That was so astoundingly stupid I couldn’t believe it. There were very few things New Orleanians agreed on: the Saints, and a hatred for insurance companies and everyone who worked for them.
    “Yeah, Mom thought the insurance company was trying to ruin Marino Properties—that eventually they’d run out of money or something and would have to drop the suit. You know how insurance companies are complete and total scum of the earth.” She laughed. “But the firm representing them was willing to do it for a percentage of the final settlement.”
    “What firm?”
    “McKeithen, Fontenot, and Drake.”
    I kept my face expressionless. I had dealt with Loren McKeithen before; he was an excellent lawyer whose devotion to his clients meant people who weren’t his clients couldn’t trust him. He was also gay, and worked hard for gay rights in Louisiana—which was pretty much a lost cause. “Do you think your mother’s disappearance might have had something to do with this lawsuit?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t see how—insurance companies are scum of the earth, but I doubt even they would go that far. And I can’t believe they’d go so far as to kill.”
    “How much money are we talking about?”
    “I think twenty million, is what Mom said.”
    I whistled. Twenty million dollars was an awful lot of money. “Who was the insurance carrier?”
    “Some local brokerage put the package together—but the main carrier was Global, I think.” She gave me a rueful smile. “I really didn’t pay a lot of attention when Mom talked about it—and she didn’t really talk about it that much. But I know she wasn’t looking forward to going to court, and having to testify, and all that. But she did think Global was trying to cheat Mr. Marino.”
    “Did your brother have any enemies?”
    “Like I told you, we haven’t been close in years.”
    I got out one of my business cards and handed it to her. “If you can think of anything else, give me a call.”
    She walked me to the front door. “Do you think there’s a chance she might still be alive?”
    “There’s always a chance,” I admitted. “But I don’t hold out a lot of hope, to be honest.”
    She nodded. “That’s what I figured.” She wiped at her eyes and closed the door.
    I got in my car and called Abby. “See