I turned and looked at the waitress. "Nothing for me, thanks."
The waitress nodded and headed in the direction of the bar.
I looked Stewart in the eyes. "You haven't answered my question."
He drained the whiskey from his glass and placed it loudly on the coffee table. "Oh yeah. I did not kill Angelica."
"Then why was your father's company putting ten thousand dollars a month into Angelica's account, under the assumed name of Jessica Evans?"
"She was working for my dad as a textile consultant."
I snorted. "I don't believe you."
He yawned, clearly tiring of the conversation. "That's not my problem."
Shifting tactics, I asked, "Where were you the night Jessica was killed?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What business is it of yours?"
Now he was playing games with me. It was time to get real. "You can drop the act, Preston. I know you strangled Immacolata in her dorm room. Angelica knew it too, so your father paid her to keep her mouth shut and sent her packing to Milan. But then she defied your daddy's orders and returned to New Orleans, so you went to LaMarca and told her to leave town. When she didn't comply, you went back to LaMarca and killed her the same way you killed Immacolata. You strangled her with a scarf."
Stewart leaned forward in his seat. "You be careful who you tell that story to, understand? Because I'll sue you for slander, and I'll win." Then he sat back and crossed his leg over his knee. "Do you really think I, or anyone in my family, was worried about a lousy hundred and twenty grand a year? With all the money we're worth?"
"Maybe it wasn't about the money." I was pretty sure I'd struck a chord. "I'll bet that Angelica had information that proved you killed Immacolata, and you needed to shut her up once and for all before she went to the police."
"What reason would I have? I can't be tried for the same crime twice." He grinned. "That's what they call double jeopardy, darlin', and it's illegal."
"No, but the Di Salvos could have brought a civil suit against you, which would have put a nice dent in the family fortune."
"Nah. The only gold digger in that family was Immacolata. And she's dead, isn't she?" he asked in a threatening tone.
A chill ran down my spine, and my courage momentarily wavered. Fortunately, the waitress returned with his drink, giving me a moment to regain my composure.
Stewart took a sip from his glass. "What's the matter? Didn't you know about Immacolata's fortune-hunting ways?"
I stared at him coldly.
"I'm surprised, you being a private investigator and all."
Shifting in my seat, I said, "I don't see what her wanting to marry into money has to do with her murder."
"Oh, but it has everything to do with it. For the record, Angelica was sexy and savvy. She didn't need to blackmail anyone for money." He swirled the brown liquid in his glass. "But poor little Immacolata didn't have Angelica's business sense. The only thing she knew was men and money. And she was willing to do anything to catch her a rich husband. When she died, she was sleeping with half the men on campus. But I was the one she'd told her parents about. So when she turned up dead, I was the obvious target."
I pursed my lips. "You're saying that you had nothing to do with Immacolata's death."
"That's right, and a jury of twelve of my peers agreed with me." He took a long drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I rue the day I met her and that crazy twin of hers."
I blinked in surprise. "You know Concetta?" Concetta had told Veronica and I that she didn't know Stewart.
He burst out laughing. "Indeed I do. In the biblical sense."
My jaw practically hit the floor. "You had sex with her?"
He shrugged. "Before I knew Immacolata was better in bed."
Ignoring his crude comment, I asked skeptically, "How did you meet her?"
"We met at a happy hour at the Columns Hotel. Then I met Immacolata by chance at Mardi Gras a couple of months later, and Concetta flipped out. She was jealous of her sister, big time. After I started sleeping with Immacolata, Concetta kept showing up in the middle of the night at my apartment, acting all psycho. I still can't shake her."
For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. "What do you mean you can't shake her?"
"I mean that the freak stalks me to this day. She even broke into my apartment once, right after I was acquitted."
I scrutinized his face for signs that he might be lying, but it was impossible to tell. "How do you know it was her?"
"I had a security camera installed. It was definitely Concetta on that tape."
The more Stewart spoke, the more I felt that he might be telling the truth. "What did she take?"
He laughed. "That's the funny part. I have a wooden chest on my dresser that I keep my cufflinks and watches and stuff in. I guess she was trying to save me from the devil or some religious BS like that, because she took a fifteen-dollar bracelet I bought at a voodoo shop and left all my Rolexes."
I felt my blood run cold. "A v-voodoo bracelet?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, you know, one of those kitschy bead things they're always selling to tourists."
"With little skulls," I said, more to myself than to him. But a nun couldn't have planted a skull bead at the scene of a crime just to implicate someone who'd spurned her, right?
"Yup." He grabbed another handful of nuts. "What a friggin' whacko."
I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I had to get out of there and tell Veronica. If Concetta was stalking Stewart, then she could be in the area. And that meant we could all be in danger. I abruptly rose to my feet.
Stewart cocked an eyebrow. "You leaving already?"
"Yeah, I have all the information I need."
"And this was just starting to get fun." He downed the rest of his whiskey.
I turned and walked briskly up the steps to the bar, avoiding eye contact with Veronica as I passed by. I stepped into the hotel lobby and quickly pulled my phone from my bag. As I headed for the parking garage, I sent a text to Veronica telling her that Concetta could be in the vicinity and might be dangerous. And then a shocking thought occurred to me: Concetta took magic when she'd stolen Stewart's voodoo bracelet.
Now, the meaning of Mambo Odette's words was as clear as a crystal ball.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I pulled my rental car into an empty Lenton's parking lot and parked near the employee entrance, leaving the engine running. After looking in my rearview mirror for about the thirtieth time to make sure that neither Stewart nor a crazed Concetta was following me, I grabbed my phone and called Veronica. She'd texted and asked me to meet her here as soon as I'd clued her in to Concetta. Apparently, Orlansky's secretary had called her right before she left the Carousel and said the DVD had finally arrived from Baton Rouge. I briefly wondered what Veronica'd had to promise Ed to convince him to stay late so we could watch the video
She answered on the first ring. "Hi, Franki."
I could hear the sound of traffic in the background. "Where are you?"
"I'm on my way to Lenton's. I'll be there in a few minutes."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Given the circumstances, I felt like I had a giant target on my back sitting all alone in that department store parking lot after hours.
"So what happened when you left the bar?" I nervously glanced out the driver's side window. "Was Stewart still there?"
"Yeah, he was putting the moves on that waitress."
"Oh, no! I wonder if she knew he was an alleged murderer."
"I made sure she did before I left," Veronica said.
"Good." We women had to look out for one another. "So what do you think about this business with Concetta?"
Veronica was silent for a moment. "It's a pretty far-fetched story."
"I think so too. But I'm still freaked out that Stewart brought the bracelet up like that, without me even asking him about it." I glanced at the chipped violet fingernail polish on my left hand.
"And he told his attorney who probably told the police," I completed, my heart sinking.
"Right. And you know darned well that Stewart is keeping a close eye on the police investigation in this case."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure of that."
"Anyway, I'm pulling into the parking lot right now," Veronica said. "See you in a minute."
I closed the call. Now that I really thought about it, I no longer knew what to think about Stewart, Concetta, or anyone else connected to this case.
* * *
Ed Orlansky leaned forward to adjust the brightness on an old PC monitor that was in an old armoire in his office. The combined scent of his Old Spice aftershave and the pomade he'd used to slick back his hair for the occasion was overwhelming in the tiny space.
He leered at Veronica—make that her breasts—with a lusty smile. "Is that better?"
"Yeah." She frowned. Now that we had the DVD of the last two scarf purchases in the bag, Veronica had promptly dispensed with the bat-and-twirl act.
I scrutinized the grainy image of the teenaged girl standing in front of the sales counter. "I think we can move on to the next one."
Ed used the mouse to click and drag the video progress bar to the start of the next purchase.
The video played for at least thirty seconds before a young man wearing a Lenton's nametag approached the cash register. He held the Limoncello scarf in one hand as he scanned the price tag in the other.
I held my breath as I waited for the customer to appear. A woman with waist-length brown hair and long bangs stepped up to the register holding a billfold. She was clearly avoiding eye contact with the employee.
"This may be our suspect," I said.
Veronica nodded. "It's hard to tell with the quilted down coat she's wearing, but her body type could be similar to Domenica's."
"Or Concetta's," I added. "It would help if we could tell how tall she is."
The employee asked the woman a question and she shook her head, keeping her gaze lowered.
"Too bad there's no sound on this video," Veronica said.
"We'll have sound soon now that corporate has finally approved our new digital system. It's got all the bells and whistles," Ed beamed, trying to impress her with the equipment upgrade.
I turned to Veronica. "Can you make out her face?"
She squinted at the screen. "Not really. I wish she would look up."
"Then we could at least see the shape of her face and mouth. With those bangs, I can't see her eyes at all."
The woman opened her wallet and handed cash to the employee, who placed it in the register drawer. As he handed her a few bills and some coins, she raised her face just enough for us to get a look at her.
I sat forward in my seat and turned to Ed. "Could you rewind that?"
"Sure," he replied, staring straight at Veronica instead of me. Then he rewound the video and paused on the woman's uplifted face.
"Look at her lips," I said to Veronica. "Doesn't that look like it could be either Domenica or Concetta's mouth?"
She cocked her head to one side. "I don't know. Maybe."
I slouched down in my seat. "Okay, Ed, you can hit play."
"You got it," he said, again replying to Veronica as he clicked the button.
While the employee placed the scarf into a bag, the woman put the bills into her wallet but dropped the change. She bent down to retrieve the coins and then shook her hair from her eyes as she stood up.
"Freeze it right there!" I shouted.
Ed had been so busy gazing at Veronica's chest that he started in his seat. "What? What happened?" he asked.
Veronica rolled her eyes. "There's something we need to see. You know, on the video?"
"Oh, sure," he replied.
"Here, let me do it." I said, batting Ed's outstretched arm away. I grabbed the mouse and rewound the tape to the shot of the woman's face. The minute I clicked pause I recognized the close-set eyes on the screen.
Veronica gasped and then turned to look at me. "That's Concetta."
I nodded. "Let's see what happens next," I said as I clicked play again.
The woman put the coins into her wallet, took the bag from the employee, and walked away.
Veronica turned to me. "I think it's time we take the video and the skull bead to the police."
"Hey!" Ed exclaimed, his eyes opened wide with alarm. "What about our dinner tonight?"
Veronica glared at him, and I stood up, crossed my arms, and followed suit.
Ed's eyes darted from Veronica to me, and then he licked his chapped lips. "I'll take a rain check?"
* * *
"Next time, promise me you'll keep any evidence you find at the office," Veronica said as I inserted the key into my front door lock.
"All right." I pushed the door open. "It's just that so many people pass through there. I thought the bead would be safer here."
Veronica followed me into the dark apartment. "Napoleon doesn't come to greet you?"
"Not unless he has to tinkle." I laughed. "Nine o'clock is past his bedtime." I flipped the light switch by the front door, but the light didn't come on. "Shoot. The light bulb's burned out. Will you turn on the kitchen light?" I asked as I bolted the door shut behind us.
"Sure." She headed toward the kitchen.
Just as the light came on, Veronica let out a bloodcurdling scream.
I ran to the kitchen doorway and stopped dead in my tracks. Concetta was standing in the middle of the room wearing a full habit and surgical gloves, and she was holding a butcher knife to Veronica's throat.
I gasped. "Concetta!"
"Nice décor, Franki." She smirked. "What are you, a PI by day and a prostitute by night?"
Seeing the terror in Veronica's eyes, I shouted, "Let her go!"
"I don't think you're in any position to call the shots," she said with an eerie calm. "Now, why don't you come over here and sit at the kitchen table?"
I nodded and slowly did as I was told. I knew from my police training that I needed to try to establish a rapport with a hostage-taker so that he or she wouldn't see me as a threat. But there was one glaring problem with that tactic. Veronica and I were threats to Concetta because we were the only ones standing in the way of her freedom. As I took a seat, I fervently hoped that Veronica was still armed. Then I saw the rope on the table.
Concetta walked Veronica directly behind me. "Okay, take a piece of rope and start tying the big one up."
The big one? It wasn't enough that she was probably going to kill me, she had to insult me too?
"And don't try any tricks, either. If you don't tie those knots nice and tight, you're a goner."
As Veronica tied my hands behind my back, I glared at Concetta over my shoulder. "What did you do with my dog?"
She looked at me like I was an idiot. "I let him out. I'm allergic."
I prayed she was telling the truth. If she'd hurt Napoleon, I could never live with myself. That is, if I lived.
"Why don't you let us go, Concetta?" Veronica asked. "You're in enough trouble, as it is."
Concetta let out a hysterical laugh. "I'm not in any trouble. You'd think that would be painfully clear by now to you two crackerjack PIs."
I knew I had to keep her talking in hopes that she would get distracted and slip up somehow. "We know you killed Angelica, and the police know it too. Veronica brought them the video file that shows you bought the murder weapon."
Concetta sneered. "You're bluffing. If she'd stopped to drop off the video, she wouldn't be here with you now, would she?"
She had me there.
Concetta pushed Veronica to the floor and threw a rope at her head. "Tie her feet!"
As Veronica began threading the rope around my ankles, I said, "We have proof that you did it, Concetta.
"
She smiled to herself. "You do. But the police don't."
I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. That last comment didn't bode well for Veronica and me.
"You're right, though," she continued in a strangely chatty tone. "I did kill Angie."
I felt Veronica tighten the knot around my ankles.
"Get up!" Concetta ordered through clenched teeth. Then she pulled Veronica up by the hair, causing her to cry out in pain.
She held the knife at Veronica's neck with her right hand as she began checking the knots with her left to make sure they were tied properly. Once she was satisfied that they were tight enough, she shoved Veronica into the table. "Now take a seat!"
Veronica stumbled and fell into a chair, and we exchanged a frightened look across the table. If Concetta tied up Veronica, we were goners.
After carefully selecting a length of rope, Concetta continued to hold the knife in her hand as she began tying Veronica's wrists behind her back.
I immediately began working my hands and wrists, trying to loosen the rope. Under threat of death from Concetta, Veronica had tied the knots tightly, so I could move each wrist only a fraction of an inch. To make matters worse, the rope was cutting into my flesh.
When Concetta had finished tying Veronica's hands, she picked up the conversation where she'd left off. "I had to do it. Angie knew Stewart had strangled Imma, but she wouldn't testify against him. She let those horrible people buy her silence so that she could get herself a degree, designer clothes, and a career in the fashion industry, all courtesy of the Preston family. But, of course, that wasn't the only reason I killed her."
"What other reason would you have?" Veronica asked over her shoulder.
Concetta took another piece of rope from the table and knelt down to tie Veronica's feet. "You're both Italian, so you should know about the concept of vendetta. It's a question of honor," she explained, her eyes distant, as though she were talking to herself.
As soon as she said vendetta, I was reminded of the word vendicata that Domenica had spray-painted on Immacolata's tombstone. "Did Domenica know you killed Angelica?"
"Of course not," she replied, giving a final tug on a knot. "In case you haven't noticed, my little sister's not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree."
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