Leaning too heavily on a hunch that Errol’s mob connections might not want him to solve the case could be a time waster. Errol had a history of just not wanting to be bothered. “He’s lazy and he never forgives. He hates me and I’m involved with you. That means he hates you.” He thought a bit. “Maybe I should stay away from you. Might be safer.” Might also drive him mad if he couldn’t do his damnedest to keep her safe.
“I could be a danger to you,” Vivian told him. She wanted the whole mess to go away.
“Stay here,” Spike said. “Promise you won’t move.”
Being told what to do usually made her edgy but she’d do as he asked. Unfortunately, she didn’t tell him so.
“Damn it!” he said, real low. “Don’t waste time. Practice your independence when this is all over and it isn’t likely to cost one or both of us our lives. Sit down and stay there.”
He walked swiftly away, threaded his way between tables, and she saw what he intended to do. He went from waiter to waiter asking questions.
Vivian sat down and looked with distaste at the food on her plate.
When Spike returned, he slid onto his seat and drank some of his beer. “It was a boy. Came in and put the flower on the table then left. The waiter assumed I’d arranged it and didn’t think anything of it. Flower sellers come in off the street all the time. The man says he wouldn’t know the boy again.”
“It’s all hateful,” Vivian whispered. “What have I done—or Mama—to make him set out to get us?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say there’s only one clear reason for any of this. Want to take a guess?”
The colorful afternoon had grown dimmer in her eyes. “We’re in the way.”
“You could say that,” he said. “I’d put it more finely. You’ve got something someone else wants. Rosebank is slap bang in the middle of everything and that’s where we need to concentrate our efforts.”
His cell rang. He checked the readout and pressed a button. “Hey, Lori. Problems?” He listened, then said, “Hmm. Hmm. No. Just like I don’t have any official rights in Detective Bonine’s kingdom, he doesn’t have any in mine. He sure as hell can’t have access to my files. Did you tell him I was away for a few hours?”
Lori said in her wispy voice, “I think he already knew, sir. He’s in the hall shoutin’ at anyone he thinks will listen. Sheriff Dufrene stopped by and Bonine’s giving him an earful about you.”
Spike closed his eyes and shook his head. “Can you get Dufrene to the phone—without Bonine being in the area?”
“Sure thing.”
In the dead time that followed, Spike covered the receiver and said, “My boss never drops by but he chooses today when I’m not there. And Bonine’s hanging around kickin’ up a ruckus. Yeah, hi, Sheriff. Sorry to miss you. I took a few hours off.” He said, “Thank you,” when Dufrene told him he deserved a break when he could get it.
“Bonine’s been on my case forever.”
“I know,” Dufrene said. “Don’t worry about it. He isn’t making any points with me. But I” (Dufrene’s “I” came out as a long “aah”) “do wonder what bee he’s got up his ass, apart from the obvious one. He don’t like one thing about you. Is this all about the Patin case?”
“Yes, sir,” Spike said. “Like I reported, I was there the night of that killing—visiting the ladies who live at Rose-bank. Bonine decided I had something to do with the crime.”
“Mad bastard. Don’t forget, even for a moment, that this case isn’t ours.”
“Anything I do will be on my own time, Chief.”
Dufrene grunted at that. “Yeah, well, I’ll get rid of him, but check in with me tomorrow. I think we got to cover our asses on this one.”
“Will do,” Spike agreed and switched off the phone. “Shee-it. Excuse me. Forgot myself there. Bonine—”
“I think he’s involved,” Vivian cut in. “I think he’s trying to use you to move any suspicion away from himself.”
“Could be,” Spike said. “Or he could just be actin’ out the old grudge.” He took the rose and placed it carefully beside his plate. “I’ll get a plastic bag. I doubt if there’ll be any prints, but it’s worth a try.”
He looked at her wan face and his temper rose. “Eat somethin’, okay? Just to please me. You need your strength.”
“You sound like my mother,” she said, but put a forkful of dirty rice into her mouth.
Spike grinned, then wrinkled his nose when his phone rang again. “Devol,” he said into the mouthpiece.
This time it was Cyrus. “How’s it goin’?”
Oh, great, they would never be left alone. “Could be better,” he told him and explained the rose.
Cyrus didn’t answer at once. “Petty,” he said at last.
“That isn’t the word I would have used,” Spike said.
“Think about it,” Cyrus said. “Theatrics. He couldn’t resist taking the chance. But maybe we should be glad. This man’s so in love with his own stage dressing he seems determined to run risks spreading it around.”
“There is that.”
“Vivian holding up?”
“Not as well as I’d like. She’s a trouper, though—under the circumstances.”
“I’ve got to talk to you about that some more,” Cyrus said. “Have you given any more thought to what I said?”
Spike wished Vivian weren’t hanging on his every word. “We’re at the Court of Two Sisters on Royal and there’s too much noise,” he told Cyrus. “Let me move to a quieter spot.” He smiled at Vivian, got up, and took himself off to a shady corner.
“You still there?” Cyrus asked. “Before I forget. Bill’s idea of helping the Patins get some of their place opened up is taking off. People are comin’ from everywhere to lend a hand. Wazoo’s planning the biggest fete in history. And, hey, I got a call from Homer saying he’ll do some carpentry.”
Spike’s mind did a blank act.
“You there?”
“Yeah. You took my breath away. My dad’s a great carpenter but he hasn’t so much as lifted a saw in ages. His heart seemed to go out of it. He could be a real help.”
“He’s in on it, and Bill of course. One of the things I like about him is he isn’t all talk. Gary Legrain says he’s got two left hands but he can use a paintbrush. Several ladies have volunteered to sew and clean. The thing’s gathering steam the way these things do when you’ve got good people and a good cause. Ellie from Hungry Eyes says she’s got time and Joe Gable volunteered to help outside—so did Marc Girard.”
Spike smiled. “You’re making me feel better.”
“Between us we can get enough rooms spruced up and do the basics in a reasonable length of time. Then they can make a start and stop feeling so desperate.”
“That’s all great,” Spike said, trying to come to terms with the idea that his father had offered help. “Is that the only reason you called me?”
“Two more. First, I spoke to you about the right order of things. People know about you and Vivian. For your souls and for—well, you know—you need to be doing something about the formalities. I don’t want to push but I know you’re an honorable man and you’ll want to do the right thing.”
It didn’t take a great brain to figure out Cyrus was talking about…marriage! Aw, it was the priest talking because Spike and Vivian were spending time together, alone. Spike smiled at the thought. He looked at her from a distance and everything about her made him want what he couldn’t have right here.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”
“Reb and Marc mentioned it, too. Reb said the months go by fast.”
Spike scratched his forehead. “I appreciate their interest—I think.”
“Well, moving on.” Cyrus sounded relieved. “Second point. I’ve mentioned my sister Celina and her husband Jack. Jack Charbonnet has a lot of connections, some of which I probably wouldn’t like. But he knows everyone and everything in New Orleans. I wondered if he could be helpful to y
ou. Also, I’d like you to meet them. A brother can be proud of his only terrific relative, y’-know.”
“I’d love to meet them,” Spike said although he didn’t manage to sound enthusiastic. “Maybe the next time I’m here.”
“I’ve been asking some questions about Martin, Martin and Martin,” Cyrus went on. “Something screwy there. The sons are on the masthead but they never worked a day of their lives in the firm. In fact, as far as I can make out, they never worked a day anywhere in their lives. But they’ve got a reputation for throwing money around and being in on any shady deal that goes down. Nothing proved, though.”
“Is that a fact?” Spike thought about the twin brothers.
“Fact,” Cyrus said. “And they’ve got some sort of hate thing going for their father’s girlfriend. They don’t even know who she is but apparently the relationship was going strong when Louis died and they think he’d already changed his will to include her.”
“I gathered a lot of this, but thanks, Cyrus. Have I ever said you make a great sidekick.”
“No, but thanks. Jack and Celina expect you at their riverboat around six. She’s the Lucky Lady. Take the River-walk. I thought that would give you and Vivian plenty of time to…ah, deal with business and pleasure. You two are a great pair.”
Spike felt a foreign sensation. The tightening of bonds around him. Cyrus was determined to get him hitched to Vivian before the two of them even knew what they wanted. Why, Spike had no idea. “We respect each other as friends,” he said, somewhat stiffly. He didn’t tell Cyrus he’d rather not meet the Charbonnets today. In fact, he hadn’t lost hope of spending time alone with Vivian.
“Uh-huh,” Cyrus said as if what Spike said was difficult to believe. “Just remember there are times when women need extra consideration.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. I’ll let you go then.” Cyrus’s breathing was audible. “There has been one new development. Wazoo’s got herself a job at Rosebank and she’ll be living out there.”
Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. He and Vivian had been out of town a few hours and things were turning upside down. “A job at Rosebank,” he said. “Does Charlotte think they all need their palms read daily?”
Cyrus chuckled. “Evidently Wazoo has a lot of skills we didn’t know about, including fixing equipment.” He cleared his throat. “I was going to lose my nerve about saying this, but Charlotte’s pretty upset. Susan Hurst went over there and said she and her husband refuse to accept the idea of a hotel next door so they want to make Charlotte an offer she can’t refuse—for Rosebank.”
At last Spike hung up and made his way back to the table. His meal had to be cold and his beer too warm. He sat down and drank the beer anyway. “News from home. Bonine’s been trying to poke around in my office files. He’s not getting away with it. Half the town is getting ready to work on your place and get you started in business.” He held his bottom lip between his teeth. “But this afternoon’s bulletin is that you and I are expected on a riverboat that belongs to Cyrus’s sister and her husband, and Susan Hurst wants to buy Rosebank to stop you from turning it into a hotel.”
Chapter 22
“I’m not sure I can tell you much of anythin’ you don’t already know,” Jack Charbonnet said. “Maybe we should go to our private quarters. We can be sure of not being interrupted there.”
They sat, drinking champagne, in an intimate lounge on the second deck of the Lucky Lady. The ping and chime of slots, screams of excitement and groans of despair rang out steadily from the lower deck. Waitresses in short, fringed skirts and low-cut tops ran up and down wide stairs to load trays with drinks at the bar in the lounge.
“I like it here,” Vivian said. She’d already come to terms with being in casual clothes while the rest of their company wore evening dress. “I’ve never been on a riverboat before, or in a casino.” Nearby, patrons played keno with the aid of television screens and Vivian noted that some of them made her feel overdressed.
Jack’s wife, Cyrus’s sister, Celina, wrinkled her nose. “My husband knows this isn’t my favorite place but he gets such a charge out of it I don’t complain much.” She had short, red curls and navy-blue eyes, and the kind of figure that turned men’s heads. There was something of Cyrus in her eyes and they shared the same straightforward approach. She leaned closer to Vivian and said, “Jack’s a hermit at heart. Don’t you think people are attracted to opposites—from their own natures, I mean? Sometimes, anyway?”
“I think so,” Vivian said.
“It’s a good idea to keep an eye on who comes and goes here,” Jack said, absolutely serious. He must have overheard Celina. “I’m the best one to do that. Not even the staff knows when I’ll show up. That makes it tough on anyone who wants to take a personal interest in things while I’m not around. Some would like to skim the cream from the operation. I make sure they never get anything they can use against me.”
“That’s code for, we don’t pay protection because of Jack’s connections and what he knows,” Celina said, and laughed. “I make him sound like a member of the family—think Sopranos—but he’s the gentlest man around.” She slid closer to her husband on the banquette and he bent over her to kiss her quickly. The way his eyes lingered on Celina’s made Vivian glance at Spike. He looked straight back and didn’t hide the sexy hooding of his eyes.
“A friend of ours is joining us,” Jack said. “He couldn’t stand to be left out. We might as well give him a few minutes to get here or we’ll have to start from the beginning.”
Jack’s Cajun background was very nice on him. His short, black hair curled the slightest bit and he had the kind of lean face and long, muscularly spare body guaranteed to please. He had eyes that hazel color, more green than hazel really, and he had a way of not blinking when he concentrated on someone. Vivian had seen him come from the outer deck and hold his beautiful wife’s hand when she stepped over the raised threshold. Tall, broad-shouldered and lithe, he moved with languid grace Vivian decided was a cover for someone capable of speed and even deadly action if necessary.
Spike held her hand under the table. He spread her fingers on his thigh, surprising her, then turning her legs to water when her small finger encountered the bulge in his pants. He wasn’t taking his eyes off her.
She smiled at him.
Spike watched her mouth and unconsciously curled his tongue over his upper lip.
If there was a way, they would be in each other’s arms tonight. She contracted in pleasurable ways and in pleasurable places. The thoughts of darkness and skin on skin came too often now. She actually felt him inside her and sat upright with a start.
They hadn’t made love, but still she imagined the smooth, moist stroke of his flesh within hers.
“Amelia wanted to be here,” Celina said, startling Vivian. “She asked me to give you her regards. Her words, not mine. Comes of thinking she’s an adult. She’s eight and madly in love with her uncle Cyrus. I think she’s convinced he’s here and we’re keeping him from her.”
“Everyone loves Cyrus.” Vivian smiled at the other woman. “Spike has a daughter, Wendy, she’s five and sweet, but very grown up, too.”
She felt Spike staring at her and glanced at him. His expression revealed nothing but made her uncomfortable.
“We can usually appease Amelia by saying she has to stay to help Tilly, that’s our housekeeper, with her little brother but it almost didn’t work tonight.”
Spike liked meeting Cyrus’s sister and Jack Charbon-net, who had the kind of worldliness about him that raised flags. They didn’t have to be bad flags. Whatever the man’s story might be, he’d lived, and seen more than most, Spike would bet money on that. He also figured they were circling, avoiding the real reason for this meeting.
A commotion rustled up from the lower decks. A man’s voice gradually grew louder, and so did his laughter, until a full head of blond curls appeared. Compact, beautifully dressed in evening clothes, the wh
ole package arrived—a man who exuded life and expected all eyes to turn in his direction. They did.
“This is Dwayne LeChat,” Jack said quietly. And more loudly, “He and his partner own a successful…club. It’s on Bourbon. Dwayne? Quit grandstanding and get over here. We’ve got folks for you to meet.”
A pianist broke into a chorus of “Careless Love,” and Dwayne flung back his head to laugh before bowing to the musician and going to put a bill in a brandy snifter. “He’s playin’ our song,” he said, laughing over his shoulder at the rest of them. “Everyone in town knows Jean-Claude plays this for me.”
He rushed over and kissed Celina soundly. She kissed and hugged him back before he took Jack in a bear hug.
“Vivian Patin and Spike Devol,” Jack said, indicating his guests. “Good friends of Cyrus’s from Toussaint.”
“Cyrus?” Dwayne frowned a little and his intelligent brown eyes showed something other than the jovial clown he hid behind. “That sweet man. How is he? It’s been too long since he came to see all of us and we worry. He’s too good, you know, too vulnerable in a nasty world.”
“He may be,” Spike said, surprising himself. “He’s a hard act to follow.”
Dwayne shook his hand firmly and reached for Vivian’s, which he took to his mouth for a brief kiss. He raised his brows.
“Vivian and her mother own Rosebank, a beautiful old home just over the line in Iberia—spitting distance from St. Martin,” Spike said. “I’m the Deputy Sheriff in Toussaint—here as Vivian’s friend,” he added quickly.
Dwayne sat down. “And you’ve got trouble.”
Vivian’s lips parted but she didn’t speak.
“We’ve got trouble,” Spike agreed. “And you folks probably can’t do a thing to help us but Cyrus thought you might have an idea about a couple of people who could be involved.”
“Might, could,” Jack said, not rudely but speculatively. He checked around and beckoned to a heavyset man, also in evening dress. What Jack said to the bouncer or bodyguard or whatever wasn’t audible but the man stationed himself at the top of the stairs. “The Martin brothers,” Jack said.
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