Now she had no choice.
She didn’t have the money to pay the blackmailer, she couldn’t find him to take back the photographs, and now her time was running out.
DECLAN WAS UP before her, looking far more rested than she when Grace wandered out of the bedroom, showered and dressed. He had fresh coffee ready and handed her a mug.
“I probably should stay away from caffeine,” she said even as she drank. “My nerves are shot. To be honest, Declan, I think it’s time I told Mama and Corbett what they might be in for. I thought I would do that first thing this morning.”
“Good for you. I’ll go with you for backup.”
“I need to do this myself, Declan. I need to be honest with my family about something I’ve kept from them. That’ll be hard enough without a witness.”
“I can wait outside.”
“No, please. Let me handle this. No arguments.”
She could see he didn’t like it, but he didn’t debate the issue.
“What about after?” he asked.
“I have to get to Voodoo. We’re finalizing plans for the winter holiday season. But call me if you have anything, and I’ll do the same.”
His concerned expression cut through her.
“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” he demanded. “You’re going to place yourself in jeopardy. You agreed we would do this together, Grace.”
“One thing at a time, please. I do need to go to work. As to anything else…I’ll be cautious.” She knew how to hide what she didn’t want other people to see. If she got a reading off Raphael—or any other suspect—he or she would never know. “Go take care of things at the office. See if you can find out what’s going on with the fingerprint report.”
Nodding, Declan backed off.
Even so, Grace felt a little guilty as they left the apartment. He flagged a taxi, but she refused a ride.
“I need time. I need to think on my way there.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Be careful.”
Understanding his concern, she waved him off and centered herself.
Hoping to find opportunities for psychic connections, she got on a bus that would connect with the St. Charles streetcar. Even this early the bus was packed with people. No place to sit. Too many elbows jostling her. Too many voices filling her head. Too many minds to read.
She was soon on overload again and there was no way to step out of the path of the visions that kept coming and coming. It was like hearing multiple voices, each speaking in a different language.
And now she couldn’t turn them off.
Thankfully, the streetcar proved to be more sedate since it was heading away from the business district rather than toward it. Grace was able to have a seat and her private thoughts and the chance to compose herself the short ride into the Garden District.
Still, she was finding it harder to focus.
Harder to breathe.
A problem that multiplied when she got off and walked the few blocks to her family home.
Frozen before the imposing structure, Grace stared at the familiar white columns, at the twelve-foot-high doors, at the old swing on the veranda, as if studying the house was going to change what she would experience inside. Telling herself she could do this—that she could take whatever was coming—she practically ran up the few steps and rang the bell.
Mama answered, dressed for work in a dark pantsuit and a brilliant white blouse. When she saw her daughter, she seemed shocked. “Grace, what in the world are you doing here at this time of the morning? I didn’t even know you woke up this early.”
“Normally I don’t, but I need to talk to you.”
“I have an early day, darlin’—can’t this wait?”
Warmth crept up Grace’s neck as she said, “No, Mama, it can’t. It’s that important.”
“All right.” Mama stepped back, letting her by. “I was just finishing breakfast. Go in the kitchen.”
“Is Corbett there?”
“Your brother is in Baton Rouge.”
Great. She would have to do this twice. She headed for the kitchen with its attention to the old and the new. The cabinetry was old mahogany and there was a butler’s pantry, as well. But there was also a center island.
“Coffee?”
“Sure.”
Grace slid onto a stool at the island and stared at Mama’s plate. Just looking at the half-eaten food was enough to make her stomach cramp.
Mama took her seat and slid a mug toward her, saying, “Here you go, darlin’…now what’s so all-fired important?”
Grace took a swallow of the chicory coffee for courage. “Mama, I know I’m not like you or Corbett, but I never meant to hurt you.”
Mama’s forehead pulled in a frown. “I never thought you did, darlin’. Where is this conversation headed?”
“I didn’t do anything on purpose, Mama, I swear. And I’ve tried to fix things, but I think they’ve gone too far.” Grace felt tears well in her eyes. “That’s why I have to tell you, so you’ll be forewarned.”
“You’re scaring me, Grace.” Mama put down her fork. “Out with it. What in the world has happened?”
“Someone put a hidden camera in the dressing room at the photography studio.”
“Oh.”
“The other day, I found a print of this suggestive photograph of me at my apartment door.” Grace tried to catch her breath as her mother’s mouth formed a large O. “I—I’m being blackmailed.”
Hesitating only a second, Mama said, “My Lord, I’ll get the best detective in the department on the case right away.”
Which as a top prosecutor, she certainly could do.
“No! You can’t,” Grace said. “Don’t you see—then it’ll get out for sure. Declan is a private investigator. I hired him to help me. I need to handle this, Mama, try to keep this quiet. But just in case…”
“In case?”
“The blackmailer put the photo on a Web page. He didn’t launch the site yet. He says if I give him five hundred thousand dollars, he won’t.”
“You plan on giving him this money?”
“I don’t have this money. I don’t have my trust fund yet, remember, and while I make a nice income, my bank account isn’t that healthy.”
“So you want money from me.”
“No, that’s not why I’m here. Even if I did give over the money, I don’t believe he’d keep his word. I kept this from you to protect myself, as well as you and Corbett. But then I realized that you both had a right to know in case it went wrong. If the photos get out, they could affect your political campaigns. Larry Laroche and Helen Emerson are among the suspects.”
“What?”
“Declan and I aren’t sure, but we can’t rule them out. You have to believe me, Mama, when I tell you we’ve been trying to deal with this so that this situation wouldn’t harm your political career. Yours or Corbett’s. I can take whatever they can dish out, but I won’t let this hurt you. I’m sorry I’ve been a coward about telling you.”
“Just because someone got a shot of you in the nude—”
“Not nude. Worse.”
“What can be worse?”
“I’m dressed, Mama. But it looks like…I’m posed so…well, it’s not good.”
“I see.”
“So if you want to disown me, I—I’ll understand.”
“Disown you?” Mama’s voice went shrill. “What I want to do is take the person responsible for scaring you like this and rip out his fingernails, one at a time.”
“Really?” Grace felt tears spring to her eyes.
“My poor baby,” Mama murmured, putting her arms around Grace. “My poor darlin’ girl.”
Shocking Grace into seeing more.
Mama wraps an arm around her waist and beams at her. She waves with her free hand until Declan joins them. Mama embraces him, too.
When Mama let go, the vision faded.
Grace couldn’t remember the last time her mother had soothed her about
anything. Then again, normally, she wouldn’t show any weakness Mama could use against her.
“You’re not angry with me?”
“Oh, I certainly am angry with you, but not because a photo was taken of you that might interfere with my political ambitions. I’m angry because you didn’t think you could come to me. Because you didn’t trust me to believe in you and because you don’t trust me to do anything about it.”
“I’m doing something. I’m using my…ability…to figure out who is responsible. And Declan is helping. He has a computer wiz on it.”
“And when you figure out who did it and why…what then?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Mama shook her head and sighed. And then she got that steel in her voice that told Grace she wouldn’t put up with any arguments. “I’ll give you another day, but if you can’t pull this off, the ball is in my court. And if you do get something, you will let me know the blackmailer’s identity and turn over any evidence, so that I can have him arrested. The photographs can be kept from the media. And if they aren’t, your brother and I will deal with the fallout then. You are my daughter, and you are more important to me than any election.”
Words Grace never thought she would live to hear.
She couldn’t believe how much she’d misjudged her mother. So much so that she’d made sure they hadn’t communicated honestly in years. They didn’t have to agree on everything to love each other. She knew that. Even so, she’d never considered Mama would be on her side in this instance.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mama.”
And she didn’t mean about the photos.
NEEDING SOME TIME to build her confidence before showing up at Voodoo, Grace window-shopped her way up Magazine Street.
Her visit with Mama had been more emotional than she’d imagined, and the walk did her good. Plus it gave her the opportunity to practice her gift one person at a time. No longer having to concentrate on her subject’s senses as she’d had to do the night before, she found reading strangers much easier than she’d expected.
An antiques dealer who gave Grace her card was thinking about a lucrative sale.
A kid who literally ran into her on the sidewalk was dreading a doctor’s appointment.
Given one person at a time, she was able to harness the psychic energy…assuming that everything she “read” was correct. That was a problem she wasn’t sure any amount of practice was going to help. Hopefully her instincts wouldn’t lead her wrong again.
Even though she still had that worry, Grace was feeling much better by the time she entered the Orleans Exchange building and headed up to the second floor.
“Miss Grace, there you are,” Eula said. “Mr. Raphael is lookin’ for you.”
Grace paused at the security desk. “Is he upset about something?”
“Don’t think so. Just wanted you to know to see him straight away.”
Nodding, Grace took a better look at Eula’s desk, which held nothing but a telephone and a monitor that flicked between cameras aimed at the building entrance and the loading dock. “You know, I never realized you didn’t have a computer before.”
Eula laughed. “That Mr. Raphael is too damn cheap to buy anything he don’t think we need.”
“I guess he figures you have no use for a computer. It surprises me, though.” She glanced up to the Voodoo offices.
Eula shrugged. “There’s always the one on the loading dock.”
“The computer is out in the open?”
“Nah, you know that little office to the side—it’s in there.”
Actually, Grace hadn’t known about the office because she’d never been in the loading dock area, which was behind the restaurant on the ground floor.
She patted the other woman’s hand before leaving.
She seems impatient as she looks down a hallway, then turns to a man, back turned, sitting at a computer, working an e-mail program.
Grace blinked as the image vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Who had that been at the computer? And had he innocently been checking his own e-mail or had something darker been going on?
Flustered, she said, “I’d better find Raphael.”
Her mind was on Eula as she entered the designer’s offices, however. Declan was fairly certain the messages had come from one of the building owner’s computers. She simply needed to confirm the ISP and the IP address on Raphael’s computer and on the one on the loading dock. Now that seemed it would be easier accomplished than she’d imagined.
If, indeed, it turned out the IP address belonged to the loading dock computer, then the hard part would be figuring out who had used it for nefarious purposes.
Entering Voodoo, she smiled at the young receptionist. “Morning, Laurie.”
“Oh, Grace! Raphael—”
“Wants to see me first thing. I know.”
Grace headed straight for the designer’s private office and found him with his assistant.
“…throw the water-damaged bolts into the loading dock Dumpster.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” the assistant asked. “That’s a lot of fabric to toss. Maybe we can salvage some of it.”
“Raphael does not use goods that are not perfect.”
“Whatever you say.”
The assistant rushed past her, drawing the designer’s attention to her presence.
“Ah, Grace, there you are.”
“I understand I’m in demand this morning. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing other than ruined fabric.” He waved the tragedy away with an impatient hand. “Magda is reworking another design and Raphael wants to make sure it fits you the way it should. And that it has your approval.”
Tension flowed out of Grace. “My approval?” This was the Raphael she appreciated.
“Things have been difficult lately,” he said. “Apologies…I want Voodoo to run smoothly.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze that shifted her focus.
Larry Laroche wraps an arm around Raphael’s shoulder and grins at him.
Zapping herself back to the present, Grace started. Why was he thinking of Larry Laroche? And the way Laroche had snaked an arm around Raphael…surely they weren’t having a thing. Laroche was married and as far as she knew, playing with Jill Westerfield. Did Raphael and Laroche have some secret relationship? Is that why he’d been so sharp with her the past few days?
“Well, I’d better go find Magda.”
“Good. Good.”
When she got to the seamstress, Magda was in the middle of working on a particularly intricate part of the gown.
“Oh, that’s going to be stunning,” Grace breathed. It was another diaphanous creation that would make her look seminude. But contrary to the way she’d felt the day before, she was looking forward to wearing it. “How soon can I try it on?”
“Check back with me in an hour.”
“No problem.”
Now what? She could go find Max, see what was on the photographer’s mind. Or she could go find the loading dock computer and see what was stored on it.
Could she get to the computer and learn its secrets without getting caught?
Grace called Declan. “Do you have the IP address handy? Apparently, there is a computer I didn’t know about in the loading dock office.”
“But if the computer is in some place that’s accessible to anyone—”
“I know. Anyone could get on it. Anyone and any thing. Like the photographs. Maybe I can find the damn files and destroy them.”
“What about copies?”
“Overload,” she warned him.
“All right. One thing at a time.”
“Right. Give me the information I need.”
Declan read off the number and she wrote it down on a scrap of paper.
“I’ll need directions to get to it, as well.”
Declan told her how to find the IP address and then said, “Maybe you should wait for me. I c
an be there in half an hour—”
“I can do this myself.” Grace slipped the paper with the directions into her jacket pocket. “The sooner we know something the better.”
“You won’t take any chances, right?”
“This building is full of people, Declan. What can happen?”
“One of them can catch you. Maybe the wrong person.”
“I’m a good actress. Lots of practice. And I’ll keep my cell phone handy.”
Though he made a sound of exasperation, he said, “All right. Call me if you find anything.”
“That goes unsaid.”
“Right away. I want to know you’re okay. And in the meantime, maybe you should turn your cell on vibrate in case a call comes in so you don’t alert the media.”
Grace clenched her jaw. Didn’t Declan think she could do anything right without his input?
“I already did.”
“Be careful, Grace. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Realizing he was serious—and seriously worried—she said, “I don’t want anything to happen to me, either.”
Ending the call, she went through the reception area.
Laurie looked up from her computer. “Leaving already? That was quick.”
“I’m not even started for the day. Magda was busy, so I’ll be back shortly. Should anyone ask…”
“Oh, okay.”
Laurie was already concentrating on her work.
Grace slipped out of the office silently, so as not to alert Eula, who sat with her back turned. Because a camera was trained on the security dock entrance, Grace had to get to that office from inside the building if she didn’t want to chance Eula’s seeing her.
Grace’s gaze went straight to a door between Voodoo and Gotcha! She’d never checked it out before, but the door was marked with an exit sign overhead. She would bet her next paycheck it led down to the loading dock. Opening it carefully, she froze when the hinges creaked, but apparently the noise wasn’t enough to alert the security guard. Still, it was enough to alert her pulse, which was rushing double-speed. As quietly as possible, she slipped through the opening and made sure the door closed behind her.
Saving Grace Page 13