And what were the desired results? Lucy suspected they had to do more with her than with answers.
Vowing vengeance—why should she be the only one embarrassed?—Lucy took a good look at the tarot display, especially those under glass—the more valuable decks—but didn’t see any work by Lamar Landrieu.
Wiggling free of Justin, she made her way back to Odette and in a whisper loud enough for him to hear, said, “Can you add something to…” She indicated him. “…you know, make him more…potent?”
Odette’s eyebrows shot up, but she said, “Of course. Then I’ll split the potion in two and mark the vial with male and female symbols. Just don’t get them mixed up.”
Lucy smiled as she glanced back at Justin and savored his glower for a moment. Then she watched Odette cork the first vial and use a marker to draw a symbol that indicated this one was for her.
“You know, the last time I was in your shop, I saw a tarot deck that I really loved, but it seems to be gone.”
“Which one?” Odette asked, turning back to the cabinet and removing another vial.
“The bordello deck hand-painted by Lamar Landrieu.”
“Oh, I just sold that deck a few days ago.”
“Will you be getting another like it?”
Adding a dash of the extra ingredient to the remaining vial, Odette said, “I’m afraid it was one of a kind.”
“Darn. And I really wanted to buy it.” Lucy lowered her voice. “In case you didn’t guess, my boyfriend is kind of…well, you know…kinky.” Chalk up two for her. “That deck would have done it for him. Maybe if you contacted the person who bought the deck from you…?”
“I doubt that she would want to sell it.” Odette corked the second vial. “She reads tarot professionally and said this deck was exactly what she needed for a particular and important client.”
“Well, maybe she could at least read Justin’s tarot. Where can we find her?”
“Jackson Square.”
“Oh, great. We can go right over there. Wait a minute—what’s her name?”
Odette thought about it for a moment. “Sophie. I don’t remember her last name.”
“I’m sure we’ll find her. I mean, how many tarot-reading Sophies can there be at Jackson Square?”
Odette marked the second vial with the male symbol. “All done. That’ll be a hundred dollars.”
“A hundred…” Justin cleared his throat and pulled out his wallet, muttering, “No problem.”
Odette smiled serenely as she said, “Viagra would have been cheaper, but you wouldn’t have gotten the information you came for.”
8
“WE REALLY PUT ONE OVER ON HER,” Justin said caustically, as they left Taboo a few minutes later.
“Odette LaFantaray is a well-known voodoo priestess,” Lucy reminded him. “Who knows what kind of powers she has. She probably read your mind.”
“Or she’s simply good at reading people in general.” A requirement for those going into one of the mystic trades so prevalent in New Orleans, he thought.
“Or that.”
Justin dropped his sunglasses in place over the bridge of his nose. The afternoon was hot and humid and the sun shone at full force. Despite the discomfort of the weather, the streets and restaurants and shops were crowded with people seemingly happy to fry their brains in pursuit of pleasure. High tourist season brought large crowds to the French Quarter. Just about any season did, especially on the weekends. But summers were especially crowded.
Tourists apparently didn’t care that their bodies were dripping with sweat…as if they’d just engaged in a round of hot, sweaty sex.
That thought occurred to Justin when a couple in a doorway caught his attention. They were locked in a hot embrace, rubbing against each other, and the man’s hand had mysteriously disappeared behind the woman….
Still smarting at Lucy’s implication to Odette that he needed some kind of help to get it up—he was certainly having no trouble at the moment—Justin said, “By the way, remind me never to cross you.”
“You mean again,” she said.
Her grin and wiggled eyebrows set his heart racing and his erection throbbing. What was it about her that had him in such a spin? Maybe it was the pure part of her, the part that had made her try to save someone she hadn’t even known, that appealed to him most.
Good thing he had a modicum of self-control, Justin thought, or he just might pull Lucy into one of those doorways to see how far she would let him go in public.
“You just didn’t seem like a woman who focuses on revenge,” he said in mock complaint.
“Normally I’m not, but I decided to make an exception for you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” Lucy said airily. “Not to change the subject, but do you mind if we stop by Bal Masque so I can check in with Dana before going on to Jackson Square?”
“Fine by me.”
Justin wanted to know everything he could about Lucy Ryan, whether personal or business. Not that he thought working with her to find a murderer was going to come back to bite him. It wasn’t that, at all.
Rather, he was not only attracted to her, but he liked her and wanted to spend some quality time with her. True, mostly he wanted to explore the various positions such a thing as a love potion would instigate, but after the case was solved.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that focused on any woman.
As they reached the cross-street, Lucy said, “Our shop is right around the corner.”
And a moment later, Justin followed her inside Bal Masque. The shop was a single storefront wide, but it was two rooms deep, the front filled with product, the rear with long tables where customers were making their own masks.
“I’ll be just a minute,” Lucy said. “Look around. Make yourself at home.”
Justin watched Lucy saunter to the register where Dana was taking care of a customer. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The way she moved with such grace, swinging her hips so unselfconsciously, was enough to give him another hard-on.
To take his mind off his dick, he checked out the masks mounted on the walls—from expensive Mardi Gras masks to very expensive pieces of art not meant to be worn. He saw little that reminded him of the masks in Lucy’s living room, however, and wondered if that meant they sold faster than she could produce them or that she was simply too modest to make a big deal over her own designs.
The bell over the door tinkled and he glanced back to see a young woman dressed in black enter. Obviously a Goth, she appeared to be ready for Mardi Gras even now. Her hair was a dark, blood-red against pale skin whitened with makeup. Her black-ringed eyes stood out, too, as did her dark red lips.
He wondered at her coming into a mask shop when she was already wearing one.
But it seemed that Lucy and Dana knew the young woman. The Goth and Lucy hugged each other. Justin couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Curious—was this an art school friend?—he made his way toward the front counter, passing tables and shelves filled with the more usual tourist fare—souvenirs in the form of inexpensive sequined and feathered masks, silk-screened Mardi Gras T-shirts and baskets of mask key chains and pencils. Something for every budget.
“Oh, Justin,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes at him in some kind of warning. “This is my sister Jennifer.”
“Call me Jenn,” the overly made-up woman said. “So Justin, it seems that you’ve been keeping my big sister busy the last few days.”
“I’ve done my best,” he said and tried to look past the makeup to find a resemblance between the sisters. Impossible. The Goth disguise was complete.
“What have you two been up to?” Jenn’s raccoon eyes targeted the bag in his hand.
Justin couldn’t help himself. He held up the package from Taboo. “Love potion,” was all he said before looking for Lucy’s reaction.
Her blushes were charming, but this one especially so. Her reaction made him wa
nt to take her somewhere private so they could try out Odette’s potion and see if it worked.
“Hmm, seems like there’s a lot you’ve been keeping to yourself lately, Lucy,” Jenn said, wide-eyed as she studied her sister.
“We’re new,” Justin volunteered. “Lucy doesn’t trust the relationship. Give her time and you won’t be able to stop her from talking.”
“That sounds more like our Lucy,” Dana said with a laugh.
“We need to get going,” the object of discussion said, marching toward the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort,” Dana assured her. “But you’d better be here on the weekend or I won’t be responsible for the carnage.”
Lucy simply waved a hand at her partner without turning to look at her.
And Justin followed her straight out the door. “Whoa, chère, wait up.”
“No, you keep up.”
“You’re not angry with me, are you?”
Justin worried that he might have gone too far teasing Lucy in front of her sister and best friend. She was focused on getting to Jackson Square and didn’t spare him so much as a glance. Her spine was straight, her shoulders stiff. Definitely angry. Not having a better idea of how to cool her down, he hoped engaging her in conversation might get her mind off her irritation with him.
“So, how did your sister get herself into the Goth-culture thing?”
Lucy sighed and slowed a bit. “Jenn is complicated. She majored in theater and believes in living her art.”
“She’s in some Goth play?”
“Lingerie. She’s modeling a line of Goth lingerie, kind of like a spokesperson for them. Not that she actually speaks much. At least not when she’s being photographed.”
“Unusual job.”
“Not for Jenn. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories. Once she played a pregnant woman in a play and felt the need to wear the pregnancy gear 24/7.”
“Must have been difficult taking a shower,” an amused Justin said.
“And then there was the time she modeled at a motorcycle convention. She lived in leather for months afterward.”
“Be thankful she didn’t buy a hog.”
“Who says? The downpayment was more than she made on the whole job. She wasn’t a good rider, though. Three falls and she sold the thing.”
Not knowing if Lucy would be insulted if he laughed, Justin kept his amusement under control, saying, “At least she learned something from the experience.”
“Really? That’s why she decided to try out for Cirque du Soleil and signed up for private gymnast lessons.”
Feeling like the straight man in a George Burns–Gracie Allen routine, Justin asked, “And how did that go?”
“Well, it ended with Jenn’s arm in a cast,” Lucy admitted. “And she can’t figure out why no man wants to see her more than a few times.”
Personally, Justin pitied the poor bastard who would get involved with such a kook. Not that he would ever put that thought in words to Lucy. Knowing her even for such a short time, he was certain that if someone else criticized her sister, that someone would have his ears boxed.
A titillating thought if that someone were Lucy. He imagined her coming at him, her expression serious…until he touched her, that was. He would do a lot of touching in a lot of special places. He would use that love potion on her. Then she would forget what it was she was angry about.
He fantasized for a moment, imagining her in his bed and him trailing a stream of scented oil from her breasts to her belly to the vee between her thighs. She would sigh and arch and open for him, and he would spread the liquid gold along the heart of her. She would writhe under his touch. The potion would make her burn for him and it would take him all night to satiate her….
Realizing Jackson Square was just ahead, Justin ignored the hard on he’d given himself as he switched into private investigator mode. No more joking around here. No more fantasies. Not if he wanted to get a handle on this case before his thirty-six hours were up.
“SO WHERE DO WE START?” Lucy asked, feeling strange vibes coming from Justin as they arrived at the heart of the city.
Jackson Square was a beautifully landscaped park once known as Plaze d’Armas, the site of public executions and military exercises. Today, it evoked romance, and was a source of big tourist dollars. She eyed Justin from beneath her lashes and wished romance could be uppermost on their minds, even if for a little while.
“Why don’t we split up and start asking if anyone knows a tarot reader named Sophie,” Justin suggested. “Probably best not to say why we’re asking.”
“Okay. Here goes.”
Lucy surveyed the entrepreneurs lined up across from the cathedral…the collection of shops and restaurants below the Pontalba Apartments…Cafédu Monde.
The sights and sounds and smells of this area were distinctly New Orleans. Color and jazz and spice, she thought. The flagstone walkway was home to artists and tap dancers and mimes and jugglers in addition to those who claimed to be mystics. Around one corner, jazz musicians performed, and around the other, a whole lineup of horse and mule-drawn carriages awaited the tourist trade.
If only she and Justin could be sharing all this, holding hands and strolling through the crown like lovers….
Images from her dreams crowded Lucy’s mind and it took all her effort to concentrate.
She approached a woman who’d set up a card table amidst the artists’ easels. A sign indicated this was Madame Rouge, and indeed the well-endowed woman was wearing a vibrant red dress and head covering that set off her dark skin.
“Sit, child.”
How in the world did she deal cards with those two inch nails? Lucy thought as she slid into the chair, saying, “I’m looking for a tarot reader named Sophie.”
“What you think I am, huh?” Madame Rouge asked indignantly. “The best tarot reader not only in Jackson Square, but in all New Orleans.” The woman flicked her nails at Lucy. “Shoo! I have time only for paying customers.”
Lucy rose and started to leave, then hesitated. “Look, I can pay you whatever you charge for the information.”
The indignant tarot reader shook her head and turned her attention to two teenaged girls who were obviously interested in having her read their cards.
Well, that didn’t exactly go as expected.
Lucy looked around for Justin and saw him across from the Cabildo talking to a musician carrying a sax. The musician was shaking his head. It didn’t look like Justin was having any luck, either.
Again she wished they could be together. She had a hard time keeping her eyes off him and on the performers who roamed up and down the street. Maybe one of them had known Sophie. She waited until a juggler dressed as a pirate caught all his pins, then she approached him, saying, “Excuse me, but I’m looking for someone—”
His swarthy face broke into a leer. “I’m all yours, chère, as soon as I’m done here for the day.” He took a bow as tourists dropped money into his pirate hat.
“You don’t understand. I’m looking for a woman—”
“A ménage à trois?” A snaky smile curled his lips. “Oh, la, I wish I could help you there.”
“Look, I’m not interested in sex. I’m…”
But before Lucy could tell him she was looking for Sophie, his dark eyebrows shot up and he gave her a look of pity and clucked to himself. Then he turned his back on her and went on with his routine for a new group of tourists.
Chagrined, Lucy backed off. Great. Two strikes out of two.
She scanned her choices—mostly artists whose work was displayed attached to the black iron fencing that circled the park. None of them admitted to knowing a Sophie who read Tarot at Jackson Square.
Thoroughly frustrated, Lucy looked again for Justin, but now he seemed to have disappeared. Perhaps he was having more luck than she.
Lucy certainly hoped so. She felt a responsibility—a burden, even—to find the murderer.
Why else would she have
had the dream?
The hair on the back of Lucy’s neck suddenly stood at attention. Though no one was directly behind her, she felt as if someone were breathing on her.
She turned to see a light-skinned black man wearing a Saints T-shirt, his hair in short dreadlocks, staring at her from his table several yards away. His sign identified him as Emile Poree, Guide to the Future. Raising one hand, he waved for her to come over to him.
Lucy’s senses all twitched. Chances were this guy would come on to her just as the juggler had. And yet…she found her feet moving without being conscious of making that decision.
“Mr. Poree, I’m not a tourist,” she told him right off.
“But you need a spiritual guide. Sit.”
“Spiritual guide? Not exactly,” she said carefully.
But something compelled Lucy to sit anyway and when she placed her hands on the table, he covered her right hand with his left. The gesture wasn’t intimate and yet an indescribable energy went through her at his touch. Startled, she felt her pulse surge. What the heck was going on here?
Gazing into her eyes, he said, “You’ve lost something and need to find it.”
“Not exactly. I’m looking for someone.” The way he studied her made her nerves jangle. “Her name is Sophie. She’s a tarot reader who works this area.”
His gaze intensified. “I believe you mean Sophie Delacorte.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He turned her hand, brushed her palm with his fingertips and studied it for a moment. “You’re not a policewoman.”
“No, I’m not. Call me an interested party.”
Emile’s gaze met hers and slowly he nodded. “I sense that. But why?”
“You tell me.”
“Something you saw disturbed you. Something powerful.” He cocked his head and then nodded. “You have the sight.”
“Again, not exactly.”
“However you describe your gift doesn’t matter. What matters is what you do with it.”
He was guessing. He had to be. But how? Why would he go there?
Then she remembered the energy she’d felt at his touch. A familiar energy. When they’d been young, she’d gotten that kind of energy off Jenn. And Jenn too had often known about something before it happened to her.
In Dreams Page 8