Before he and Vivian could sit, the door to Gary’s office opened a crack and from the way the highly polished brass handle wiggled there had to be someone holding the other end.
“I’ll get back to you,” a man’s voice said, an angry man.
Whatever the response, Spike couldn’t hear it.
Tate flitted about, straightening papers on her desk, glancing anxiously at her boss’s office and then at Spike and Vivian.
“We don’t know who the woman is, but if it’s true my father left her a big chunk of his estate, we’ll make sure she doesn’t collect a penny,” the man at the door announced. “I don’t care what my father may have said, make sure you forget every word. You know who you work for now.”
Spike felt sorry for Gary, who was almost certainly on the wrong end of this.
More inaudible conversation.
“This isn’t the time, Gary. You know you don’t have to worry about anythin’ like that. You’re fam’ly. You don’t need a fancy title to prove how important you are around here. By the way, we’ll want to be here when you interview any new hires. Gotta run.”
Two men of average height emerged from Gary’s office and left the door open. They were both thin, dark-haired and wore light-colored suits. So similar in appearance were they that Spike assumed they were twins. Each had piercing eyes and a wide mouth.
“Well, if it isn’t Vivian Patin,” one of them said, approaching her with an outstretched hand. “It’s been too long. Terrible loss you and your mother have suffered, terrible.”
Vivian shook his hand and said, “Thank you, Edward. I don’t know what to say about Louis. Such a horrible shock. Are you hearing much from the police?”
Edward looked grave. “They seem to be making very little progress. How unfortunate that such a thing should happen on your doorstep.”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” Edward’s brother said sharply. “Talk accomplishes nothing and it’s all too painful.”
Spike noticed what set the men apart. This one’s nose had obviously been broken more than once.
Vivian turned to Spike and gave an awkward little laugh. “Forgive me, Spike. This is Louis’s son, Edward Martin, and this,” she indicated the other man, “is George Martin, Edward’s twin. They were frequent customers at Chez Charlotte.”
Edward kissed his fingertips and said, “I mourn the loss of the best food in the Quarter.”
Had Edward Martin commiserated with Charlotte and Vivian’s “terrible loss” of David Patin, or only the restaurant? Spike found the pair overly aggressive.
“Well,” George said, “we mustn’t hold you up when you are obviously here to see Gary. Is he taking good care of you? You do know how much we value your loyalty to the firm?”
“I know.” Vivian felt strange. She hadn’t considered how she would feel when confronted by Louis’s sons.
Gary stood at the threshold of his office now, his watchful gray eyes seriously measuring the scene in front of him.
The Martin brothers took their leave and for many seconds after they left there was silence, then Gary said to Vivian and Spike, “How long were you out here?” He turned his attention to Tate. “Kindly wait elsewhere until I page you. I have no more appointments this afternoon. Please make sure I’m not disturbed.”
As soon as she was gone, Gary reiterated his question about how long Spike and Vivian had been there.
“A few minutes,” she told him.
Spike said, “Long enough to figure out that you and the Martin boys may be fam’ly as they put it, but I don’t think you’re buddies.”
Gary turned on his heel. “Please come into my office.”
When they’d followed him inside he closed the door. “Sit down.” He waited while Vivian sat in a stiff-backed embroidered chair with gilt legs before he dropped onto a couch that looked to be the same sort of style but covered with different fabric. Spike took a second chair that matched Vivian’s.
The seating area took up one side of an L-shaped room while Gary’s office, including a red lacquer desk, filled the other. This was indeed a corner of the building. Of four tall, narrow windows, two would face Chartres while the other two probably looked out on St. Peters Street, possibly with a view of St. Louis Cathedral. These were expensive digs.
“There’s hot coffee,” Gary said, starting to get up again, “or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
“No, thank you,” Vivian said and Spike echoed her refusal.
“Charlotte called,” Gary said. He constantly glanced around the room and the toe of one foot tapped up and down. “Glad you wanted to stop by.” He gave Spike a less than “glad” stare.
“Spike was kind enough to give me a lift to New Orleans today,” Vivian told him and hurried on to say, “he’s got things to do here, too.”
Spike could see that his presence was likely to muzzle anything useful Gary might have said to Vivian on her own. “Vivian,” he said. “I can wait for you in Jackson Square if you and Gary would be more comfortable.”
He saw panic in her eyes and almost swore aloud at his own stupidity. What was she supposed to say when it hadn’t been her idea to come in the first place?
“No, no,” she said, and to Gary, “Spike mostly only came today to give me a ride.”
“Because her van is playing up,” Spike added, not particularly proud of his ability to come up with a fast lie.
“Yes. And I want you to know each other better anyway,” Vivian continued before turning a very attractive shade of pink. “I regard you as a friend, too, Gary.”
Don’t take it too far. “Vivian likes to think everyone gets along,” Spike said.
“I don’t have too many people to get along with,” Gary said, “so why not? What did you two think you were hearing before the Martin brothers left this office?”
Spike figured he’d better make sure they didn’t overplay their hand but saw an opportunity to align himself with Gary. “They like to make sure everyone knows who the senior partners are.” That could be overplaying things anyway.
”Partners.” Gary made a scoffing sound. “You might as well understand the way things are. Louis and I were the two working lawyers in the firm. Edward and George never practiced a day in their lives. Never even took the bar. But Louis lived in hope they would and, at least on paper, they were his partners. Greedy, spoiled…” He shook his head. “Excuse me. That was wrong of me.”
“Surely they aren’t senior to you,” Spike said.
“Louis and I had an understanding,” Gary said, squeezing at the corners of his eyes with a finger and thumb. “I was supposed to be made a partner. Only it never happened.”
“Oh, how awful,” Vivian told him, sitting forward, her expression concerned. “Was that what Edward meant when he told you—”
“Yes.” Gary cut her off. “I’m not to worry because I’m part of the family. I’m supposed to believe they’ll make it right. Meanwhile they’ve told me to look for another lawyer who will work under me although I can’t make the hire on my own. Those two have to be around for any interviews.”
“Leave,” Spike said. “Set up on your own. You must have clients who would follow you.”
“Do it,” Vivian agreed.
“I’ve said too much. You didn’t come to talk about my problems. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re already not fine,” said Vivian. “They’re taking advantage of you.”
Gary turned his head toward her. “You’re perceptive, but I felt that about you from the first time we met. If I walk it’ll be with what I’ve got in the bank but nothing else. Legally I have nothing else coming to me. And I had to sign a contract with a clause stating I wouldn’t attempt to poach any Martin clients.”
“That won’t stop people from following you if they want to.”
“That’s true, but it also wouldn’t stop the Martins from drumming up some charge about my work being inadequate or whatever it took to ruin my reputation.”
“Why did you sit still for it?” Spike asked, and expected to be told to keep his questions to himself.
Gary looked at first one palm, then the other. “Don’t blame you for asking. I never tested well and I finished in the lower third of my class at law school. I’d put myself through on loans and came out as a good lawyer in the making but with huge debts and what looked like an unimpressive school record. Louis thought I had potential and took me on. He gave me the chance nobody else would and said he’d make me a partner in time.”
“And the time never came,” Spike said.
“No. So I’ve got two choices—leave and risk every-thin’, or stay and hope the Martin boys need me enough for me to be able to force their hands.”
“I don’t see how they’d manage without you.” Vivian crossed her legs and leaned forward earnestly. “Seriously, you’re the one who knows everything.”
Spike wanted to know the identity of the woman the Martins had been talking about. He decided against asking now.
Vivian shook a finger at no one in particular. “With Louis gone, they own everything,” she said slowly. “They don’t look broken up by his death and they didn’t even attempt to contact me when it happened.”
If he’d dared, Spike would have told her not to pursue the thought.
Gary didn’t meet her eyes, even though she turned to him. “What if Louis was getting tired of handing out money while they did nothing but enjoy themselves. There would be one way to make sure their daddy didn’t hold the purse strings anymore.”
“That’s dangerous talk,” Gary said. “And they won’t get it all. Not quite. There is a friend of Louis’s, a lady, to whom he made a bequest. I didn’t deal with his will, but he told me that. I don’t know who she is. Those two think they can stop her from getting it, but Louis was wily. They won’t be able to do it.”
Vivian stood up with enough force to almost knock her chair over.
He would not groan or tell her what to do or say, Spike warned himself, he would not.
“This is terrible,” she said. “That woman’s life could be in danger.”
“Vivian,” Gary said with a cautionary note in his voice.
She turned on him. “You’re too generous for your own good. Who benefits from Louis’s death?”
Spike had to at least try to stop this runaway train. “You’re jumping to conclusions and they’re too obvious,” he told her. “Those two don’t look like fools to me and if you could join those dots so quickly, don’t you think anyone…well, I mean any of us could wonder about the Martins but we’d be wrong.”
“Would we?” Gary also got to his feet, but sat down again. “I’m not myself. Of course we’d be wrong.”
“They’d obviously have someone else do the dirty work,” Vivian said, straightening her shoulders. “All we have to do now is find out who it was.”
Spike cleared his throat. “Either way, nothing changes. We’re still looking for the same killer.”
Chapter 20
Charlotte felt sorry for little Wendy Devol. The child balanced on the edge of an armchair seat in the receiving room, her feet crossed at the ankle and swinging many inches off the floor. She pressed the skirt of her green plaid dress between her knees with laced hands and gazed through round, pink-rimmed glasses at the high ceiling.
“Would you like some lemonade and cookies?” Charlotte asked. She smiled at Homer Devol. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”
Homer had continued to stand, hat in his hands, and quietly dignified with his tall, slender build and straight back. He looked at Wendy with his brow furrowed and she wiggled just a little while she watched him.
“We didn’t intend to upset your schedule, ma’am,” Homer said, his frown growing deeper. “Looks like Wendy would like what you offer. Like I told you on the phone, I think you and I should talk.”
Charlotte decided Homer was awkwardly trying to signal that he wanted to say whatever he’d come to say without Wendy listening. “Thea’s in the kitchen and I know she’d like company. Would you like to go out there, Wendy?”
Wendy nodded and slid to stand on the floor.
“I’ll take her,” Homer said quickly, then coughed. “I mean, to be honest I want to be sure it seems safe. I know Thea and she’s a good woman, but things have happened here.”
“I understand,” Charlotte told him while her spine prickled. “Turn left out of this room and walk straight back.” The search for Gil continued. There were still no leads at all on Louis’s death, and she felt pretty scared herself.
Homer left his hat on a chair and held Wendy’s hand to walk toward the kitchen. A very small five-year-old, Charlotte decided, watching tow-colored braids bounce in time with the child’s skipping walk.
Had life ever been easy? Charlotte thought. Even a year before, when David had already started to be difficult to get along with, her world had been a dream compared to now. Her husband could have shared anything with her, even his financial mistakes, and they would have worked them through together. If he had told her everything maybe he’d still be alive.
Vivian didn’t know everything that led up to David’s death and Charlotte intended to keep it that way.
From her seat on one of the two gold damask-covered couches, she glanced from the black grand piano with gilded pineapples at the base of its legs, to gold-fringed red velvet drapes with swags of palm tree print satin above them. Even the white marble face of the fireplace sported carvings of pineapples, and cherubs with decidedly monkeylike features.
This place was both wonderful and a huge challenge. She couldn’t disagree with Vivian’s conviction that the eccentric decor was worth preserving, but she didn’t have to love it.
Homer returned with two glasses of iced tea. “Thea wouldn’t take a no on sendin’ these in,” he said. His eyes were dark blue and startling in a thin, very tanned face. There could never be a doubt that Spike Devol was this man’s son.
She took a glass of tea from him. “Please sit down, Homer. You’re a long way up there and I’ll get a crick in my neck trying to talk to you.” She smiled at him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and took the chair Wendy had vacated.
Guy’s grandfather clock ticked loudly. An exotic, grinning potentate popped rhythmically in and out of a crescentshaped window in the clock face.
The ticking grew louder, or so it seemed.
Homer set his tea on a brass table, a heavy, beaten tray set atop palm fronds. “We got trouble on our hands,” he said. “With our kids. I came to talk parent to parent, knowin’ you want the best for your daughter. Same as I do for my son.”
At a loss for the appropriate response, Charlotte made polite noises.
“Spike’s a good man, the best. He’s hardworkin’, smart and honorable. And he’s had to fight for everythin’ he’s got. I wasn’t much help when he was a boy. I took him everywhere with me but we scraped along and it was my fault. I let my own troubles get in the way of doing the right thing for him. I could have settled down and made him a stable home, but I couldn’t get the other out of my mind.”
“I see,” Charlotte said, touched by the man’s openness and struck by how much he must care for Spike to talk this way to someone he didn’t know. She doubted it came naturally.
“You don’t see,” Homer said without rancor. “Spike’s mother decided she wanted somethin’ different in her life and I told her to go with my blessin’. I should have tried harder to show her we could have a good life, then maybe she’d have stayed. I didn’t try on account of stupid pride and my boy suffered. I’m a carpenter by trade. Could have made somethin’ of that but I lost the want-in’ somehow.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Anyhow. We’ve made our way and we’re doin’ well, but we’re from different worlds, you and Vivian, Spike, Wendy and me. Don’t get me wrong. Spike’s good enough for anyone but he’s had one bad marriage and I can’t sit by and see him
get all twisted up over another woman who’s likely to get bored around places like this. Vivian’s used to a lot more, but what you see in Spike is what you get—he isn’t going to go back to school like he planned because he’s got Wendy to consider.”
Once more, Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say. “Vivian and Spike aren’t children. They have to make their own decisions.” That was her best shot.
“It wouldn’t work.” Homer sounded stubborn. “Besides, it wouldn’t be good for him to have folks talkin’.”
Now Charlotte perked up. “Talking about what?”
Suddenly the iced tea appealed to Homer and he drank until he drained the glass. He took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, unfolded it and wiped his mouth. “That was good,” he said. “Thank you.”
Charlotte continued to wait.
He swept one arm wide. “Aw, you know how folks are. They talk. They’d say Spike was gettin’ above himself. Aimin’ too high. And they’d talk about him gold digging. He thinks he can deal with all that now, but when it happens, he’s going to get defensive, then he’s going to get mad. That’s bad stuff for Wendy. And it wouldn’t be what Vivian would enjoy, either.”
Laughing wouldn’t be at all the thing to do. “Gold digging?” Charlotte said. “Homer, my husband and I didn’t only lose all we had, our business, home, and everything we worked for. We—I’m still in debt and when I can’t quite manage to feel optimistic, I get so down I’m convinced I’ll never get out of the hole. This house is my only possible way to get back on my feet. Louis Martin arranged one loan for me but it’s about gone and I don’t have a way to get the real money it would take to make it happen for Rosebank. And I also lost my husband,” she finished quietly.
“I know,” Homer said. “Spike told me and I’m sorry for your loss. But folks see what they want to see. You’ve got all this around you, even if it isn’t the way you want it yet. We’ve got a gas station and convenience store. And a mobile crawfish boilin’ and barbecue outfit that’s a lot of work and a lot of pain.”
“I like Spike,” Charlotte said. “He’s straightforward and that’s not so common. He probably gets that from his dad and I’m not tryin’ to sweeten you up. I don’t know if anything’s likely to happen between them, but I can’t interfere.”
Kiss Them Goodbye Page 17