“What?” Brent said.
“I’m Max Dupuis.” The man cleared his throat. “Your employer, I believe.”
Brent remained very still for long seconds, feeling like an idiot. Then he rose, reaching down to help the other man to his feet.
He had definitely overreacted.
“Brent. Brent Blackhawk,” he said.
Nikki was still staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. He gave her a grimace with a quick, almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders that asked, How the hell was I supposed to know?
“I guessed you were Blackhawk,” the man said. He still seemed amused, rather than offended. “I hear you’re a natural.”
“I know the area. A lot of facts and a lot of legends.”
“Good to meet you.”
“Yeah, um, sorry about that. I guess I’m a little tense. Nikki was mugged the other night.”
“She was telling me,” Max said, eyeing Nikki. Brent had to wonder if he’d hurt the guy. He was almost painfully thin, which made him appear even taller. If he were a teenager, he would be a Goth, but Max was no teenager. He appeared to be in his early to mid thirties. “I hear you ran the fellow down.”
“No, I didn’t catch him.”
“You got him away from Nikki, that’s what counts.” He smiled. “So, got some time? How about some coffee?”
Brent kept from groaning aloud by glancing toward the ground. “I have some time,” he said, looking at Nikki. Then he looked back at Max, and realized that suspicion was already creeping into him. So this was Max. Where the hell had he been all this time?
Out of town? Or lying low somewhere? Dressing up in a dark mask and attacking women in the street? And if so, why? Then there was the information he had just received about Nathan. There was only one thing to do, and that was check them all out one by one. He was certain of one thing, though: Madame’s place was involved somehow.
He wondered about Max’s arms. Was he a junkie? The man was thin enough. Scrawny, but he didn’t look wasted. Then again, if you were selling drugs, and making a mint, you might well be smart enough not to sample your own wares.
Max, apparently oblivious to Brent’s assessment, glanced at his watch. “Hell, not coffee. It’s well past cocktail hour. Let’s have a drink. On me. I’ve got my car, so we’ll head back into the Quarter, if that’s all right with you two?”
Nikki shrugged, frowning as she watched Brent. She seemed concerned, he thought, shrugging as he looked back at her. “Fine with me,” he said.
Max started walking; Nikki did the same.
Brent held back for a few seconds. He touched the tomb, feeling that little stir of pain and nostalgia.
And he noticed the flowers that someone had brought. Nikki?
“Brent?” Nikki had turned back.
He smiled. “I’m with you. Right with you.”
Max’s car was a Lexus. The inside was clean—a surprise, since the outside of the car looked as if he had been driving through a swamp.
“Sorry,” Max apologized. “I had her down to the bayou country. I was meeting with some shrimpers.”
Nikki laughed. “Max, it looks as if you took the car straight into the bayou.”
Nikki sat in front; Brent in the rear. Max was a good driver. He dexterously made a U-turn to head back to the Vieux Carré.
He caught Brent’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “The shrimpers are having a rough time. They need legislation to stay afloat. We’re shipping in foreign-caught, frozen shrimp, and families that have been in the industry for years are going to go down if new laws aren’t passed. And the thing is, fresh shrimp, caught in our own waters, taste better. That’s why you get some of the finest seafood you’ll ever have right here in New Orleans. The thing is, I think folks would be furious about what’s going on and they’d change things themselves if they were a bit more educated. If restaurants had to tell them where their seafood came from.”
“Max, I thought you were in Colorado,” Nikki said, mystified. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m delighted that you’re fighting for the shrimpers.”
“What’s the deal with the politicians?” Brent asked.
Max flashed him a rueful smile. “They all lie?” he suggested, then shrugged. “Who really knows? I’ll say this, Harold Grant has done a lot of work for the industry, but…not enough. Billy Banks claims he’s a powerhouse, and that things will get done when he’s in office. Are you a local?”
“Yes, and no,” Brent told him, leaning back. They had reached the Vieux Carré.
“Oh my God!” Nikki gasped suddenly.
“What?” both men asked.
“I forgot Julian.”
“You forgot him?”
“He was in the cemetery with me for the tour,” Nikki explained, pulling out her cell phone. Just as she did so, it rang.
“Julian?” Nikki said.
He and Max could vaguely hear the agitated sound of Julian’s voice. Then Nikki said, “Okay, okay…okay…okay.”
She clicked the phone closed and looked at Max. “Can we take a run back to the cemetery?” she asked.
Max laughed, and turned the car around.
“We have a meeting, a must-have meeting, because Max is back,” she said.
“We do?” Max asked.
She frowned at him. “Please?”
“Sure. I’m a vicious boss, huh?”
“For today,” Nikki said.
“Are you two speaking another language?” Brent asked.
Nikki turned, grinning. “Julian got himself too entangled too quickly. His sudden roommate found him in the cemetery. He told her that he has an important meeting.”
“Ah,” Brent murmured.
Julian was waiting at the cemetery gates. Susan had her arm looped through his.
Julian quickly introduced her to Max and Brent. As soon as they reached her hotel, Julian saw her out, disentangled himself quickly, slipped in next to Brent again and said, “Max, step on it.”
Making a tsking sound in his throat, Max did so.
Julian leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. Then they flew open again. “Nikki, how could you do that to me?”
“Julian, I didn’t know where you were.”
“But you didn’t look for me.”
“Honestly, Julian, I’m so sorry. Max showed up, and then Brent came and nearly decked Max, and—”
“What?” Julian said, puzzled.
“I didn’t know who he was,” Brent explained. “I thought he was hitting on Nikki.”
“I wasn’t almost decked,” Max protested.
“I tackled him,” Brent said diplomatically. “He was with Nikki, and after what’s been happening, I just jumped to conclusions.”
Max shook his head. “Nikki is probably more at home in any of these cemeteries than anyone I know. If she thought she was in danger, she’d know just where to go. She knows which crypts have been abandoned. I bet she could hide out in any one of our cemeteries for a week and not be found. I’ve been around with her. I know a few of her little secret spots.”
“I’m sure you’re right—unless Nikki didn’t know she should be hiding,” Brent said.
“Where are we heading?” Julian asked Max.
“Wait a minute,” Nikki interjected suddenly, glaring at Max. “You were in the bayou country, not far away, and you didn’t come to Andy’s funeral?”
Max shot her a quick glance. “Nikki, I’d only met her twice. And I was out on a shrimp boat.”
“You were on a shrimp boat?” Julian demanded, stunned.
“Max, you were her boss,” Nikki said, aggravated.
“Nikki, I gave you credit. You hired her.” He hesitated for a minute. “You said she was clean.”
“She was.”
Max let out a sigh. “Oh, Nikki…one of your greatest virtues is your belief in people. Your insistence that the rest of the world is open and honest and good.”
“Max, I’m not a blind idiot,” Nikki said.
“M
ax,” Brent interjected evenly, “even the police feel that Andy might well have been helped into the grave.”
Max gave Brent a startled glance in the rearview mirror. “Why?”
“Because of another similar death,” Brent said. “Even if you were in the bayou country you must have heard the news. An FBI agent named Tom Garfield—a man who was definitely as clean as a whistle—was found with enough heroin in his veins to kill an elephant.”
“What would Andy have had to do with an FBI agent?” Max demanded, scowling.
“We met him at Madame’s,” Nikki explained. “Well, we didn’t exactly meet him—we ran into him. I thought that he was a bum.”
“She gave him a twenty,” Julian said.
“Nikki, I’m sorry,” Max said. “To tell you the truth, I was aggravated with you. I thought you made me hire a woman who ended up causing major problems.”
“I’m sure she’s sorry that her death inconvenienced you,” Nikki said sharply.
Max let out a sigh. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
The tension in the car was thick, worrying Brent. He was supposed to meet Massey outside St. Louis Number 1 later, and he really didn’t want Nikki with him.
But he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave her with either of the men in the car.
“So,” Julian grumbled, “where are we going? Max, are you buying your hardworking employees a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll park at the office, and we’ll walk over to that French place on Canal.”
Brent glanced at his watch. It was after five o’clock.
As Max pulled into a spot in a narrow alley next to a door that advertised “Legends and Myths of New Orleans,” Brent realized that he’d yet to see the office. The guides pretty much never used it, he realized, because they met one another and their groups at Madame’s.
“When’s the last time you were in here?” Max asked Nikki.
“I don’t know. About two weeks ago, I think.”
“Then I guess I should check the mail,” Max said.
He parked the car, and as they all got out, he headed for the door with his keys out, calling over his shoulder, “Just a second. I’ll grab the mail, toss it in the car, and we’ll be on our way.”
He opened the door and went in, turning on lights. “I guess I should check the answering machine,” Nikki said.
She stepped past Max, who was busy picking up piles of mail from the floor where it had fallen in from the slot.
Hovering near the door with Julian, Brent studied the office space. It was small and attractive. There was only one desk, and the walls were filled with prints by local artists. There was a comfortable-looking chesterfield sofa by the wall, and scattered chairs were casually set near the desk. There were several file cabinets, and a computer.
Nikki hit a button on the machine and the message kicked in, Nikki’s voice saying, “Press one for a description of our tours. Press two for times….”
Her disembodied voice went on to say that no reservations were required, that potential tour-takers should arrive at Madame’s fifteen minutes before the tour, or, in the case of Lafayette Number 1, arrive at the cemetery fifteen minutes ahead of time.
Nikki listened to the few messages, all of which had been forwarded to her cell phone, then reset the machine.
She was disturbed, and trying not to look it, Brent thought.
“Come on, Nikki. We’re ready to go here,” Max said.
She nodded, and came out from behind the desk, smiling far too brightly.
“You haven’t been in the office yet, I take it,” Max said dryly to Brent. He glanced at Nikki. “The government will be on my ass if we don’t fill out those papers.”
“It’s been busy, Max,” she said. “And with Andy…Besides, it’s your company,” she reminded him a little sharply.
Max only shrugged, looking at Brent. “Tomorrow, if you like the job and plan on keeping it, you’ll have to fill out some IRS forms.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll really be hanging out in New Orleans.”
“Oh?” Max inquired.
Brent shrugged. “Let’s see how it goes, all right?”
He managed to fall back with Nikki as they walked. He waited until Max and Julian had entered into conversation, then took the moment to catch Nikki’s arm and draw her close as they walked. “What’s bothering you?” he demanded.
She looked at him, eyes wide. Then she shrugged. “Oh…a friend died, I think she was murdered, I’m seeing ghosts…conversing with them, actually. And I’m beginning to be glad that I can talk to them. Max is weird, Julian is weirder…and…” She glanced at him seriously. “I really don’t know who you are.”
“You know all you need to know. This has nothing to do with me.”
She smiled. “You couldn’t care less if Max keeps you on or not, because it isn’t really your job.”
He frowned. “Nikki, you’re not worried about your job. Max has a gold mine in you, and he knows it. What’s the truth?”
She let out a sigh. “I don’t know. But…you know how it seemed like someone had been in my apartment? How I just had a feeling? Well, once I started to talk to Andy, I figured it had to be her. But…I just got that feeling in the office, too. If I wasn’t in there, no one should have been. Except for Max, of course, but he hasn’t been here.”
“Was anything missing?” Brent asked.
“No.”
“Changed around?”
“No.” She flushed. “But I’m one of those organization freaks. I know exactly how I left the papers on the desk, and they were just a little askew.”
“Rats?” he suggested lightly.
She frowned at him.
“I’ll check into it, Nikki.”
“How?”
“Trust me. I’ll find a way.”
She studied him seriously. “You will, won’t you?”
He nodded. She watched him closely then. “Your turn. Why are you so keyed up and tense?”
“I’m not.”
She laughed. “Not usually, but you are now. You’ve glanced at your watch about ten times.”
“I need to go out at dark.”
She still watched him intently. “Again?”
He nodded.
“And you’re not going to tell me where, are you?”
He shrugged. “Nikki, even I think I might be on a wild-goose chase tonight.”
“But why are you so tense?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’m not alone. Julian is desperate to stay with someone he works with, and Max is back now.”
He was silent.
She groaned. “I’ve known Julian all my life. And I keep Max’s business running while he trots all over, doing whatever he wants.”
He let out a soft sigh. “Nikki, I know you’re going to get angry, but…”
“But what?”
His clenched his jaw. “I can’t betray a confidence that may have no bearing whatsoever on what’s happening. But I’m not the only one wondering about your group, okay?”
She stared straight ahead. “I’ll go home alone then.”
“But—”
“I was afraid because of Andy. But I’m not afraid of her anymore.”
“I shouldn’t go. I should just let the cops—”
“No!” she said sharply, her beautiful eyes full of resolve. “I want you to go, to do what you have to. Do you understand? I’m comfortable in my own home. I’m kind of hoping for a visit from Andy.”
His eyes narrowed. “Nikki…you’re up to something.”
“Shh,” Nikki said.
Their path through the Quarter had taken them past Madame’s. The woman was outside with her coffeepot and stopped dead when she saw Max, smiling. “As I live and breathe. The master is returned from parts unknown.”
“Hi, Madame,” Max said, planting a kiss on the woman’s cheek.
She smiled, patted his face and said, “Looks as if you’ve been roughhou
sing a bit.” She glanced at the others. “What’s going on?”
“Brent tried to beat him up,” Julian said lightly.
Max laughed. “Do I really look beat up? How embarrassing.”
“No, there’s just a smudge of dirt on your chin,” Madame said.
Max looked at the others. “Thanks for telling me, guys.”
“I didn’t see it, honestly,” Nikki said.
“Why did you try to beat up Max, dear?” Madame asked Brent. She turned to Max before Brent even had a chance to answer. “You could fire him, you know.”
“I don’t think he’d care. Besides, I hear nobody does a cemetery tour like this guy. He’s as familiar with them as Nikki is. Maybe he slides into the tombs at night and gets to know the ghosts, huh?” Max teased.
“There are no such things as ghosts,” Madame said with a wave of her hand.
Madame’s buxom figure had been blocking the table directly behind her. A familiar voice suddenly sounded from around her derriere. “Ah, Madame, you are mistaken. Many things exist that we don’t see.”
Contessa rose, having finished her coffee. Her marble eyes touched Nikki with warmth and concern. She spoke very seriously. “But spirits are seldom evil. The cemeteries, when they are locked down and it is deep and dark and mists rise…they are safe, sad places. But when they are used by the living, that’s when evil reigns.”
“Contessa,” Madame said with a laugh. “You’re good, you’re really good. No wonder I send people to your shop all the time. And, of course, you send your customers to me.” She looked back to Max. “Well, have you come for café au lait? In celebration of your return, I’ll bring it out for you, on the house.”
“Very kind, Madame,” Julian said. “But Max is buying—and we’re going to find a different kind of spirit, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure you don’t want coffee?” Max asked.
“No, you’re not going all cheap on us. Alcohol,” Julian insisted.
“We’re heading out, I guess, but thanks for the offer, Madame,” Nikki said. She smiled warmly at both Madame and Contessa.
Contessa stared at Nikki oddly. “Cemeteries are no place for the living at night,” she murmured, then walked away.
“Strange lady, even for New Orleans,” Madame said.
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