And would she still seek Magus's killer? He mulled it for a time, without coming to a conclusion. Even he hadn't been able to ferret out that mystery, though he had his suspicions. It had been such a stupid thing to do. Death was so messy and even the cleanest murder wasn't spotless. Secrets had a way of being found, usually by the wrong people. He wondered who had eliminated Vance, his wife and his attorney. As if the thought gave birth to the act, the phone rang. He waited for the caller ID. His brows arched in surprise. How interesting. He punched the speaker phone button.
“Hello, Bubba Joe.”
“Did you do it? You knew Vance, too. I know you did. I know you used him to do jobs for you. If you did, I'll kill you myself.” He slurred his words and end with a string of curses.
“It would help if I knew what we were talking about,” Bozo said, calmly, wondering what had set Bubba Joe off. He wasn't usually so forthright about who and what he was. Civilization was a thinner veneer on him than even Bozo had realized.
“Vonda Vance's murder. Did he give it to you? Because if you think you can blackmail me out of this race, well, you don't know who you're dealing with.”
Why am I sure he's not working off a script from his wife, Bozo wondered. He wasn't, of course, surprised. He'd always assigned Bubba Joe first suspect honors. But then Bubba Joe hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity and he'd wondered, maybe it was Darius. He was the type to take the long view. Clearly Bubba Joe had panicked back then and Suzanne had headed him off to deflect suspicion. But why would he care about Vonda's death, unless...
Well, Vance had never been a fool. He'd have known Vonda was his pressure point and acted to neutralize any threat to her. Interestingly enough, he had truly loved his almost-invisible wife. A pity she hadn't actually been invisible. She might be alive.
“I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about,” he said. “Have...it? What would that be?”
He could almost hear Bubba Joe thinking. If he was wrong and Bozo didn't know, then he wouldn't want to tell him. But what if Bozo was lying? The horns of a dilemma. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
“Don't mess with me, Bozo. You won't like what happens.”
Bozo didn't like drunken threats. Maybe it was time to turn the tables on Bubba Joe. Evidently there was another player in the game. Vance had worked alone, or so they always thought. He found himself remembering Dorothy's interview and the calm way she'd talked about a pardon for Vance. Dorothy had gained a lot from her father's demise. Could she really care about a man who had so neglected her that she went hungry at times?
What if she were Vance's silent partner? It would be pretty sweet for her if she could expose Bubba Joe, thus ending all speculation about who had hired Vance. She rakes in sympathy, still gets the money, and propels her candidate into the governor's mansion on a tide of sympathy. She seemed like such a nice girl, but was she really?
“What makes you think I'm the one messing with you?”
“Who else is there?”
It was too tempting. He shouldn't, but he would.
“What about Dorothy?”
“That ridiculous!”
“Is it?” Bozo asked, keeping his voice soft and reasonable. “Who stood the most to gain from Magus's death? Who still stands the most to gain if someone else is exposed for hiring Vance?”
There was a long silence, broken only by Bubba Joe's raspy breathing as he thought about this. He'd never been fast on the uptake.
Finally he muttered, “I already thought of her. Be sure I'll be talking to her, too. But if I find out you're screwing with me, Bozo—”
“I know, you'll deal with me. Go try to sober up, Bubba Joe.”
The phone slammed down in his ear and Bozo laughed. So, there was evidence that would implicate Bubba Joe out there somewhere? Who, after Vonda, would Vance give such evidence to? Bozo had known him, but not well. One didn't, with the type of person he was. Was it possible that Dorothy was his silent partner? If she was, then she was the best little actress he'd ever seen. Except for Magus, of course.
He looked at the paternity test again, the faked one. If Bubba Joe didn't take care of her, he'd have a little chat with the girl from Oz. He smiled. Life was suddenly interesting. And here, he'd been feeling so bored.
* * * *
As Suzanne Henry waited for Darius to appear, her thoughts rioted out of control. Bubba Joe had picked the wrong day to pull her chain. After he'd left, it hadn't taken long to realize that he'd given her the power to take him down. Why had she waited so long to do this? She'd spent so many years believing her future was tied up in his, that she was nothing without him. But he'd made it all so not worth it.
And the beauty of it was Darius would do it for her, so Bubba Joe would have no reason to suspect her at all. Maybe she could get Darius to drop his boring protege and sponsor her instead. There'd be more side benefits for him.
She stretched on the sheets, loving the feel of them against her bare skin, loving the anticipation of getting what she wanted. That was something Bubba couldn't understand, the anticipation of waiting. He was the ultimate instant gratification cretin.
And if Darius wouldn't play? She shrugged. Well, there was always Dorothy. If she could get to her before the timer ran out. That was the big unknown. How much time did she have to explore her options?
She heard the key in the lock, then the door opened and Darius came in, letting it close behind him. He didn't speak. Just tossed the key on the desk and started to undress. His eyes were cold, but interested. It was so sexy, it was all she could do not to writhe on the bed when he loosened his tie. Each button of his shirt was meticulously undone and then the shirt was shrugged off and tossed aside. His chest was narrow, almost boyish and bare of any hair. That was a pity. She liked hair, but she liked his chilly interest more. His belt came out. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze studying her waiting body like a surgeon about to operate.
She was about to die of wanting him. Maybe she would. Didn't they call it the little death?
“What are you waiting for?” She trailed a finger down his chest and felt the skin contract with pleasure. She smiled then. For a moment, she'd wondered if he was too cold, but he wasn't indifferent. And he was ready, if he'd just get his pants off.
“We'll talk later, but first, I hope you don't mind. I invited someone to join us.”
“Join us?” She started to sit up, but he pushed her back down on the bed, sweeping his hand down her body with the indifferent precision of a master violinist. Somehow he managed to hit just the right places to shut off almost all thought.
“What are you doing, Darius?” she managed to gasp out.
“I got you a present, Suzanne.” His voice was cool, the perfect compliment to his hot touch.
The door between the rooms opened. Suzanne pushed up with her elbows. Through a haze of desire, Suzanne saw a young woman, probably the most beautiful young woman she'd ever seen. Everything about her was hot, from her fire red hair hanging over her naked body to her dangerously high heels—the only item of clothing she'd left on—but her eyes were icy cold. She was, in every way, the perfect woman.
Suzanne smiled as she sank back into the bed. “Why Darius, how sweet of you.”
Who'd have thought the icy-on-the-outside, hot-on-the-inside, Darius would be into threesomes? Live and learn.
There was a hint of evil to the smile he gave her, but there was too much exploding sensation to worry about anything else.
* * * *
Remy's friend went over them and their car. He found both a tracking device on the car and bugs planted in their clothes. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell them how they got there. It could have been a chamber maid, he supposed, but it left Remy feeling uneasy about the people around Dorothy. Maybe Titus wasn't paranoid after all.
His head was clear and Dorothy seemed much better, though she was still mad at herself for losing the book.
“If only I'd left it on the shelf.”
He tu
rned the car in the direction of Oz and asked, “You say you flipped through the pages and didn't see anything?”
“No, no paper or writing, but it was very quick and there wasn't a lot of light down there.”
“Try not to feel bad about it. We all got caught off guard.” Remy rubbed the back of his head. At least their assailant hadn't whacked Dorothy. He and Titus hadn't been so lucky.
* * * *
With a feeling of revulsion at himself and Suzanne, Darius pulled on his clothes. Suzanne's rapacious hunger had brought about the desired result. He'd achieved release, but satisfaction still eluded him. The fault lay in his mind, not in his body. He felt as if he'd been unfaithful to Emma. And even more so to himself.
He paid off Cassandra and nodded for her to leave, though he hated to see her go. She'd diverted Suzanne from giving him her full attention. She'd deliver the photographs to him later. For now, he needed to find out what Suzanne's agenda was. She lay on the bed, purring like a kitten, her hot hand still stroking his back.
“You're not getting dressed already, are you?”
He was quiet for a moment, as he struggled to control his body's response to her touch. Now he remembered why he hated losing control. It was so hard to get it back. Despite the desires of his mind, his body wanted release again. It cared only for sensation. He moved away from her, grabbing a chair and bringing it close to the bed.
“Now we talk, Suzanne.” His tone was level, cool. Thankfully, she liked cool and controlled.
She pouted, but pulled and pushed the pillows until she could sit up. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. The light from the open window fell unkindly across her, finding the places where age was taking its toll. If only he could leave.
She appeared to consider how to begin her pitch. What surprised him was that she shivered, as if remembering something bad, and appeared to shrink inside herself. He reached down and pulled the blankets up over her, glad for the excuse. She looked down, fingering a piece of fuzz on the blanket before looking at him.
“Bubba Joe almost killed me today.”
She said it calmly enough, but remembered fear darkened her eyes. If she was telling the truth, Darius felt a stab of compassion for her and, ironically enough, sympathy for Bubba Joe's desire to have her out of his life.
“Why would he do that?”
She looked at him now, eagerness helping to push back fear. “He's afraid. And when he's afraid, he gets mean.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
Her gaze shifted. She still wasn't sure she trusted him. How could he help her along? He took her hand and squeezed it. So simple, but so effective. She gave him a grateful smile.
“Bubba Joe told me you're the one who introduced Verrol Vance to him.” She couldn't look squarely at him, instead, studying him sideways and from under lashes thick with mascara.
Was she going to try to blackmail him? After what she'd just let him do? If she was, then she had some balls he hadn't found during their recent encounter.
“I introduced Bubba Joe to a lot of useful people.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and teased her fingers with his lips and tongue. The calculation in her eyes clouded with desire. She should have learned you can't mix business with pleasure, at least not from the underneath position. For that you had to stay on top.
“But Vance killed Magus Merlinn. And now his attorney and his wife are dead. Murdered.”
“I've seen the news.” What was she after? She had him puzzled. He licked the palm of her hand and observed her body's uncontrolled shudder. Was there any place he could touch her that she wouldn't respond to? She was ridiculously easy. It was hard not to compare her with Emma, who'd required him to court her assiduously through their one, long night together.
She pulled his hand to her cheek and eased close, so she could lean on his knees and look up into his face. For the first time, she seemed unaware of him sexually.
“Darius—” She paused for effect. “He did it.”
“It?” It what?
“It. The million dollar question. The one thing everyone wants to know? Who hired Vance?” She sat back with a look of triumph. “It was Bubba Joe. He told me he did it.”
“Really?” Even his poker face needed to respond. He allowed his eyebrows to rise as he exhaled. “Shouldn't you be telling the police?”
“He'd kill me. I'd never get to be free of him. And there's no proof. Yet.”
Yet? That was an intriguing way to put it. “I don't understand.”
“He's so stupid. He threatened Vance's wife. Can you believe it? So Vance set a trap for him. Her death has triggered it. Any day now, evidence will be released, connecting him to Vance. I told him I'd help him try to find it, but then, I thought, why should I help him?”
She touched her throat, calling his attention to the bruises there that he hadn't been interested enough to notice in the throes of passion.
“If this doesn't take him down, it'll be something else. And he's going to kill me. I could see it in his eyes. It's not just about being governor for him. It's about power. And no matter how much he gets, it will never be enough. He needs to be stopped.”
“I see.” His mind reeled from shock. He'd never thought he could get too much information. How intriguing that she'd come to him for help in dealing with her murderous husband. While murder was his last resort, it was always on his list of options when dealing with difficult people.
Was he about power, too? He didn't think so. He took no pleasure in killing, at least, none that he could recall from his early days, before he could afford to hire his killing done for him.
No, he wasn't about power. He liked the puzzle, the challenge of manipulating events. Life was so dreary otherwise. It amused him to play at politics. To see if he could foist his protege on the state, then control him. Everyone thought he didn't know how lame his choice was, but he did. That's what made the game so interesting.
Still, it was funny that he and Bubba Joe had both thought they were the only one who had hired Vance to kill Magus.
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* * *
TEN
* * * *
Dorothy strolled along the path to the cemetery, grateful to be alone for a few minutes. She hadn't been down to pay her respects at her parents’ graves since the day she walked behind Magus's coffin. She'd been in Louisiana off and on over the years, taking care of business, but so briefly, she hadn't had time to come to Oz. Or so she'd told herself. She wasn't entirely sure she was ready now. So many questions, even more since her return, still stood between her and her memories of her parents.
The path showed her neglect. In places the tall grasses pressed close or completely over the path, with the possibility of fire ant hills hiding down their depths. She was intensely aware of the silence. Even nature seemed to be slumbering in the hot, mid-day sun. The hot, rich smell brought back so many memories of that awful day she'd laid her father to rest. At the time shock has cushioned her, but when shock faded, she was left with vivid memories to live and relive over and over since then, in all their nuances, and through all the stages of grief.
To some extent, she was passing through them again, though faster. Presently, she was deep in angry. Where did this person get off, just whacking people when he felt like it? At first, she'd wondered if she should back off, but not now. This person had to be stopped. This wasn't just about her father anymore. This person might be seeking public office. This person might be looking beyond the state to the white house. This wasn't merely a personal issue anymore. He'd taken it public. It was now firmly in the “no man is an island” zone.
At least no one had died today. Well, no one she knew, or was connected to the case. The New Orleans murder rate was a separate issue and not within her purview, thank goodness.
She should call Leda and make sure she was all right, though if someone had been listening in on their conversations, they must know Leda knew less than nothing.
After a night
in Oz, danger seemed distant from them and connected, instead, to New Orleans. Thanks to Titus's security measures, Oz was darn near an ivory tower.
She and Remy had discussed the party idea and had decided to limit the guest list to suspects only. Even that small group, however, necessitated a massive preparation effort. Oz had been closed a long time and she wanted to make sure they felt the full power of Magus's legacy and her return to wield it. She'd worried their prey wouldn't come on such short notice, but Remy had said grimly, “They'll come. Either out of curiosity, or because they can't help themselves.”
She knew that he also wanted her to have this quiet time in Oz for her spirit to heal. In his own, third-estate way, he was a nice man. And they'd both agreed that a period of quiet would be more likely to up the tension level of their suspects, not lower it. Or maybe he'd just wanted her to believe that. In any case, he had to work today, but would be taking some of his vacation time starting tomorrow. They both felt that events were coming to a nice—or nasty—boil.
There was certainly a lot to do to get the house ready for public viewing. She'd had an excellent caretaker, but the house had stood empty a long time. She'd brought in her housekeeper from the Dallas, because Helene Tierry, who'd been the housekeeper, retired after Magus died. She lived in town, but seemed content with her retirement.
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