by Metsy Hingle
“It’s a long story, sir,” Jack began, and gave him a brief rundown of all that had transpired, including the suspicions about Sister Grace’s death and his own fear for Kelly’s safety. What he didn’t tell him was that he suspected a member of one of the city’s most prominent families could be involved. He couldn’t do that to Margee or her parents—not until he’d had a face-to-face with Robert Jardine.
Big Mike removed the cigar from his mouth and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “That’s quite a story. I take it you and this psychic woman, Kelly what’s her name—”
“Santos,” Jack supplied.
“Right. You and this Ms. Santos involved in a personal way?”
“Yes, sir. But that hasn’t affected my abilities or my judgment as a cop,” Jack assured him.
“Maybe you think it hasn’t affected your judgment, Callaghan, but it’s kind of hard for it not to when you’re sleeping with the woman.”
“Sir, if I may?”
Big Mike sat back in his chair, making it squeak. “Go ahead, Jerevicious.”
“Sir, I’ve met the lady. And I’ll be the first to admit that I was skeptical. I mean, I don’t understand beans about this psychic stuff. But I’m telling you, the lady’s got something. She’s for real. So I’m with Jackson on this.”
Big Mike looked from Jack to Leon and back again. “All right. But I don’t want any more rules bent and you follow policy. You bring me evidence that I can take to the D.A.’s office and demand a warrant to open those files and I’ll give it to you. Until then, you follow procedure. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.
“Now go find me that shooter. And do it soon. I want the mayor’s office off my ass about the unsolved murders in this city. Now, get out of here. I got work to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Leon said.
“Yes, sir,” Jack echoed. “Thank you, sir.”
Big Mike made a grumbling noise that sounded like “yeah.” “Callaghan?”
Jack stopped at the door. “Yes, sir?”
“Your sister sent me and my wife an invitation for some private preview party she’s having at her store tomorrow night. The woman’s all excited about going to the thing.”
“Um, that’s nice, sir,” Jack said, but knew from the captain’s face his boss didn’t share his wife’s enthusiasm.
“How am I supposed to dress for the thing?”
“I’d recommend a coat and tie, sir.”
“Damn. I was afraid of that,” he muttered. “You and Jerevicious going to be there?”
“I’ll be there, sir,” Leon told him. “Tessa’s excited about being invited, too.”
When the captain looked at him, Jack grimaced. “I’ll be there, sir. A command performance ordered by my sister. If I don’t show, you’ll be adding another murder to the city’s tally—me.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you there.”
“Oh, isn’t this charming,” Mary Ellen Callaghan said as she entered Kelly’s apartment, determined to get a feel for just how serious things were between her son and the young woman with whom he’d been spending so much time. “You’ve done a lovely job fixing this up, Kelly.”
“Thank you,” Kelly murmured. “You really didn’t have to come all the way over here to pick up the photographs, Mrs. Callaghan. I would have been happy to bring them to you.”
Mary Ellen waved the idea aside. “Nonsense. I told you, I came by to see if Meredith needed any help before the party, so it was no trouble to come upstairs and get the photos for the guild’s auction next week.”
“May I offer you something to drink?”
“No thank you, dear. I really can’t stay long.” Just long enough to find out if her daughter was right—that Jackson might have actually found the woman he wanted to marry. She hadn’t expected that woman to be Kelly Santos. Not that she had anything against the girl. She didn’t. She was a pretty thing with her blond hair and serious brown eyes and so polite. A genuine lady. But her Jackson needed a woman with passion. And she’d thought that woman was Alicia. It was why she’d been so bitterly disappointed when his relationship with Alicia had ended. Because along with it ended her hopes of becoming a grandmother.
“I’ll get the photos for you,” Kelly told her, and disappeared into the other room.
While she was gone, Mary Ellen studied the tiny apartment, noted the homey touches—the fresh flowers on the table, the photographs on the walls, and her son’s favorite leather jacket hanging on a door hook as though it belonged there.
“Here they are,” Kelly said, exiting the other room. “It’s a series I did of the French countryside when I was in Europe this fall.”
Oh, but the girl was talented, Mary Ellen thought as she stared at the matted photos, noted the vivid color and detail of the French manor house, the people working in a vineyard, a family in prayer at the country chapel. So much emotion in those pictures, she mused. She wouldn’t have expected it from a girl who seemed so guarded. Perhaps it was this emotion and passion that her son had seen. Feeling enormously relieved, she smiled.
“I hope they’re all right.”
“They’re perfect, Kelly. Absolutely perfect. Why, I may just have to bid on them myself.”
Kelly blushed. “I’d be happy to make you a set—my gift,” she added quickly.
Mary Ellen patted her hand. “That’s very sweet of you, dear. But I think I’m going to enjoy outbidding Olivia Jardine for these and adding to the till for St. Ann’s.”
“I’m sure St. Ann’s will appreciate it,” Kelly offered.
“You and Jackson are coming, aren’t you?”
“I…um…we haven’t discussed it.”
“Well, I’m just going to insist he bring you. Oh, what a lovely picture,” she said as she spied the watercolor. “Don’t tell me you paint, too?”
“No. It was…Sister Grace left it to me.”
She didn’t miss the sad note in the girl’s voice, in her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. When I look at you, sometimes it’s hard to believe you were an orphan. I know I would have been very proud to have you as my daughter.” But with luck and prayer, she might soon be her daughter-in-law.
“That’s very kind of you,” Kelly said, and Mary Ellen could see that she’d flustered the girl.
“Oh my, look at the time. I’d better run and get these over to the hotel for the auction.” Unable to resist, she gave Kelly a hug. “I’ll see you later at Meredith’s party and I want you to promise me you’ll help me pick out something special for the holidays.”
Kelly didn’t have time to help Mary Ellen pick out anything special for the holidays or for anything else this evening. She was too busy racing around the boutique, snapping photos and dealing with the press. For some reason Meredith had gotten it in her head that no one but Kelly knew what pictures should be taken, what people should be photographed, what items from the shop should be touted for the local media in attendance.
And to be honest, she was enjoying herself, Kelly admitted as she did her best to move about the rooms discreetly and fire off candid shots of those in attendance. Even though she hadn’t lived in New Orleans for a decade, she knew tonight’s guests read like a Who’s Who of New Orleans society.
Busy taking photos, she didn’t realize that Alicia was beside her until the other woman said, “Hello, Kelly. Alicia Van Owen. We met at the Callaghans’ party.”
“Yes, I remember,” Kelly told her, unable to forget the gorgeous creature who had been Jack’s lover. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“My, aren’t you stunning. And that dress is breathtaking. Why, you look like a princess,” Alicia told her.
Kelly flushed. “Thank you. Your dress is gorgeous. Blue’s the perfect color for you.”
“That’s what my daddy used to say, too. He loved me in blue,” Alicia told her, a hint of melancholy in her voice. “So tell me, did you get that outfit in New York?”
“Actually it’s from Meredith’s shop.
She insisted I had to have it.”
“And I was absolutely right to do so,” Meredith said, coming over to join them. “Hello, Alicia. Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” the other woman told her.
“Well, I hope you brought your checkbook because I expect you to spend lots and lots of money. Ooh, there’s the mayor’s wife. Got to run,” Meredith said, and dashed across the room, leaving her alone with Alicia.
“Poor woman,” Alicia said. “I hope she brought her platinum card.”
Kelly laughed. “That’s for sure.” When she caught Alicia studying her, Kelly looked down at her dress and up again. “Is something wrong?”
“The camera,” she said, pointing to the instrument in Kelly’s hand.
“What about it?”
“You need to ditch the thing. It doesn’t work with your outfit.”
“It’s like a part of my arm,” Kelly advised her. “I’d be lost without it. Besides, I promised Meredith I’d take pictures.”
“Forget about Meredith,” Alicia insisted. “She’ll have plenty of pictures. Why, I think she has more press here than they had for the president’s visit to the city last month. Why don’t you forget about snapping pictures for a while and let’s see what goodies Meredith has for sale?”
“Maybe later,” Kelly hedged, still not comfortable with the chummy relationship Alicia seemed to be offering. “The truth is, I’m enjoying myself. I hadn’t realized how much I missed working. In fact, why don’t you stand over there by the mirror and let me take some photos of you?”
“Tell you what, why don’t we get someone to take a shot of you and me together?”
Kelly started to balk at the suggestion, but Alicia had already grabbed a man and asked him to take the picture. Seeing no graceful way to refuse, Kelly set up the shot and showed the gentleman which buttons to push, then she stood with Alicia.
“Say cheese,” the guy said, and clicked off the shot. “Here you go,” he told Kelly, and while Kelly reset her camera, the man chatted up Alicia.
“Over here,” Meredith said as she pushed her way through the people with a newspaper photographer in tow. “This is the famous photographer from New York that I told you about, Kelly Santos.”
Meredith made short work of introducing the photographer to her and to Alicia. And Kelly kept a pleasant smile pasted on her face as the man told her how he, too, aspired to work for the fashion magazines in New York.
“Ms. Santos is wearing a design from Indulgences,” Meredith pointed out, directing the man’s attention back to the shop. “Maybe you can get a shot of her and me together. Oh, and would you take one with Kelly’s camera, too?”
“Sure thing, Miss Callaghan.”
While Meredith beamed at the camera, Kelly managed to smile. She much preferred being on the other end of the camera.
“Got it. How about I take a few more shots with all of you pretty ladies?” the photographer suggested.
“Sure,” Meredith said, and the three of them posed for a series of shots, which he took with both his camera and Kelly’s.
“Nice piece of equipment you’ve got there,” he told Kelly when he returned the camera to her.
“Thanks. I like it.”
“We’re using a lot of the digital stuff now. But if you ask me, it’s not half as good as the stuff you get with one of those babies. You develop your own stuff?” he asked.
Kelly spent the next several minutes engaged in a conversation with the cameraman about her darkroom, her preferences in filters and lenses. He was asking her a question about her lenses when Kelly realized that Jack had arrived. She hadn’t seen him come in and with the ever-increasing number of people, she didn’t have a clear view of the door—despite her added height in the heels. She’d surprised herself at how often she’d found herself looking toward that door, waiting for him to arrive. She’d told herself it was because she’d been on pins and needles while she’d waited to hear what he’d found out about her past, about who her father was, about what had really happened that night of the fire.
But it wasn’t the only reason she’d been waiting for him to arrive. She’d been waiting because she’d simply wanted to see him. Needed to see him, to be with him, she admitted.
Because she loved him.
Kelly sucked in a breath, stunned by the realization. Both stunned and frightened because she wasn’t at all sure a future with Jack Callaghan was possible. How could she be when she wasn’t sure who she was?
“Miss Santos? Are you all right?”
The cameraman’s voice finally penetrated. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Will you excuse me a moment?”
“Uh, sure thing. It was nice talking to you, ma’am.”
But Kelly didn’t bother responding. She was already searching for Jack. She needed to talk to him. Trying her best to maneuver the room in the too-high heels that forced her to take small steps instead of her normal stride, she bumped into the back of someone. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I needed the jolt,” the dark blonde in the Audrey Hepburn-inspired cocktail dress told her with a smile. “I was actually toying with spending two hundred dollars on that little purse that couldn’t hold more than a lipstick. I’m Margee Jardine. You’re Kelly, aren’t you? I thought I recognized you when I saw the camera.”
“Yes,” Kelly told her, impressed. “We met at the Callaghans’ party. You’re the attorney.”
“Now I’m the one who’s impressed.” Margee picked up the silvery bag. “So what do you think? Is it worth two hundred dollars?”
“It is if you like it,” Kelly offered, and glanced past Margee in search of Jack.
“Looking for anyone in particular?” she asked.
“Jack,” Kelly told her, then flushed.
Margee laughed. “It’s all right, Kelly. I know about the two of you. Jack came to see me, to ask me about my conversations with Sister Grace. I assumed he told you.”
“Only that the two of you talked,” Kelly said. “I mean, he said that the conversation was personal and that he wasn’t able to discuss it with me, that he gave his word.”
“Is there a quiet place where we can talk?”
“Meredith keeps an office out back. I don’t think the party has spilled into it yet. Come on.”
Jack searched every twist and turn and room of the shop. But he couldn’t find Kelly anywhere. He’d arrived late, had missed a great many of the early guests and had gotten waylaid by Big Mike and his wife, then Leon and Tessa. By the time he’d broken away, he’d lost sight of Kelly.
Spying his mother, Jack asked, “Have you seen Kelly?”
“Not for a while now. She was taking photos earlier and chatting with one of the reporters,” his mother said. “Oh, Jack, the girl is darling. I couldn’t be happier with your choice. And before you tell me to mind my own business, I want you to know that I expect you to ask the girl to join us for Thanksgiving—”
“Good idea, Mom. I’ll do that—just as soon as I can find her. Catch you later and don’t let Meredith talk you out of a discount for that pile of stuff you’ve got behind the counter.”
Jack completed another round of the shop, staked himself outside both fitting rooms and the ladies’ room to look for Kelly. There were fewer than a dozen people still in the shop and most of them were either at the register or the door, preparing to exit. His mother was behind the counter with the two sales clerks zipping credit cards through the machine like a pro.
He was just about to give up and go see if Kelly had returned upstairs to the apartment when he saw Meredith duck into the powder room, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Torn between finding Kelly and checking on his sister, Jack swore and headed for the powder room.
Meredith looked up from her seat at the dressing table and met his gaze in the mirror. It was obvious from her red-tipped nose and the mascara smudges under her eyes that she’d been crying. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said with
a sniffle, then began repairing the mascara streaks under her eyes. “Just all the excitement. I didn’t see you doing any shopping, big brother, and I want you to know that I expect you to spend an obscene amount of money before you leave here tonight,” she informed him as she began to dab some concealer under her eyes to make the red disappear.
A part of him wanted to take her at her word, leave and go find Kelly to make sure she was all right. But another part of him knew his sister too well. Something was wrong. Deciding to deal with his sister first, he said, “Cut the act, brat, and tell me what’s the matter.”
Her shoulders slumped and all the sass and sparkle seemed to flow right out of her. “If you must know, I’m upset with Alex.”
“Alex? What did he do?”
“He didn’t come tonight,” she said.
“Come on, Meredith. The man’s got a tough job. He works more hours than I do—and that’s saying plenty. When I saw him this morning he looked like hell and said he was coming down with a cold. Cut the guy some slack.”
Meredith’s eyes flashed in the mirror. She spun around and threw the tube of makeup at him.
Jack batted the tube away. “Hey! Are you nuts? What’d I do?”
“Don’t you dare defend Alex Kusak. He’s a lousy, heartless jerk. I hope his cold turns into pneumonia, that he’s confined to his bed for months and that his stomach muscles turn to flab.”
“What in the hell has gotten into you? Alex is practically family. Don’t tell me you’re still carrying that schoolgirl torch for the guy. I thought you’d gotten over that. I mean the guy’s practically like a brother to you.”
“Brother? Brother, my ass. He and I have been lovers for years.”
Jack froze. Suddenly like the tumblers on a safe, all the cylinders clicked. Alex and Meredith’s closeness, the way he always defended her, wanted to include her in their jaunts. The way Alex moped around every time Meredith took off. The way Meredith always asked for him whenever she’d call home. The son of a bitch. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Jack!” Meredith jumped up, ran after him and wrapped herself around his middle.