Framed!

by Robin Caroll

  “Ava? It’s Jocelyn.”

  “Hey, girl.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. As well as can be expected.” Ava traced the engraved scrollwork on the edge of the desk with her fingernail.

  “If you want to talk, you know I’m here for you.”

  Ava smiled, knowing her friend actually meant what she offered. “I know. I’m holding my own.” She glanced at her appointment book. “About to dive into work. It’ll at least keep my mind occupied.”

  “That’s actually one of the reasons I was calling.”

  “Really?”

  “Sam and I are getting married, and we’d like you to plan the blessed event.”

  “Congratulations.” Ava glanced at her planner again. “When were you thinking of having the wedding?”

  “As soon as you can plan it, if you feel up to it.”

  As if she wouldn’t plan her close friend’s wedding? Then again, Sam had questioned Dylan. She tried to remember…Dylan being a suspect in Angelina’s murder had been Sheriff Reed’s idea. Wait a minute—Jocelyn said as soon as possible? “Um, is there any particular reason for the urgency?”

  Jocelyn laughed. “Just that we’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?”

  Ava chuckled as well. Joceyln’s excitement was contagious. “Of course. I’d be happy to plan your wedding.” When she’d have time, she hadn’t a clue. “When would you like to meet to set a date and go over preliminary details?”

  “Sam and I are both free tomorrow morning. How about the breakfast buffet at the hotel? I’m actually thinking that might work for the wedding reception.”

  Nodding, Ava grabbed a pen. “Let’s plan on, say, nine tomorrow morning?”

  “Perfect. Thanks, Ava.”

  The morning sun shone down on Loomis, despite the fogginess hovering over the bayou. Max slipped his sunglasses into the truck’s holder after parking at Pershing Land Developing. He gazed next door at their real estate office. At least Georgia Duffy’s car wasn’t in the lot. He’d dodged the bullet again. Ever since he’d broken up with her years ago, the woman seemed determined to worm her way back into his life. She’d even gone so far as to work at Pershing Real Estate. The fact that she lived in Pershing Plaza didn’t help matters, either.

  He headed into the building on Church Street, nodding at the receptionist on his way to his office.

  “Why, Max, aren’t you here bright and early?” Patsy Thomas, his secretary, sounded shocked.

  He smiled as he unlocked his office door. “Good morning to you, Patsy.” He winked and turned on his lights. Since he normally came in around ten, he understood her surprise at his darkening the door before nine. “I’m just getting work lined up for the troops as I’ll be out of the office most of today.”

  Helping Ava. Getting to be with her again. Working with her.

  Patsy followed him into his office, taking his jacket to hang on the brass hooks behind the door. “Playing hooky, are ya?”

  “Sort of.” And with the only person he wanted to play hooky with. “Will you bring me the February projections report?”

  “Certainly. I’ll bring it with your coffee.”

  Max grinned at the secretary who’d served him for more than five years. Patsy was about twenty years older than he and almost motherly, but not in the same manner as Max’s own mother. No, Patsy couldn’t compare with Lenore Pershing. Patsy was kind and gentle. Not a control freak. “Thanks.”

  Once alone, he booted up his computer and checked his e-mail. The flood of business had his agents booked solid for the rest of the week. Fear of what would happen to the Renault Corporation after Dylan’s death had everyone running for cover. Ava truly did need his help.

  Charla Renault, now there was a woman who could give his own mother a run for her money in the control-freak department. That they were arch rivals and had been for decades…well, it just fit. Everyone in Loomis had long ago picked which side of the feud they fell on, and were very careful not to stray too close to the middle…All because of a marriage that went bad and a public embarrassment generations ago. It made no sense to Max. Then again, there’d been a couple of business deals that went sour because of the family feud over the past couple of years. Still, that hadn’t been enough to send Ava away to boarding school…had it?

  Patsy tapped on his door and entered without a response. She set a steaming cup of coffee on the desk in front of him alongside a spreadsheet. “Anything else?”

  He took a sip of the black coffee. Strong, just the way he liked it. “Thanks, Pats. I really appreciate it.”

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” She perched on the arm of the leather chair facing his desk.

  “I’m just helping out a friend. She needs help managing her company on a temporary basis.” He took another sip, then stared at his secretary.

  “What friend?”

  He shrugged, but felt the heat creeping across his face. “Just a friend from school who needs a bit of advice.”

  Patsy stood and made a clucking sound with her tongue. “That friend wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Ava Renault, now would it?”

  Max grinned. “Does it make a difference?”

  His secretary chuckled, loud and hearty. “Not to me, but I bet it does to your momma. What’s Lenore say about this?”

  The smile slid off his face. “She’s none too happy.”

  “Bet that’s putting it mildly.”

  “Yeah.” He ran a finger around the lip of the cup. “But I just have to help Ava out.” He lifted his gaze to his secretary’s face.

  “I understand.” Patsy moved toward the door. “Have a good day, and I’ll hold down the fort here.”

  “Thanks, Pats.”

  Someday, sooner rather than later, he was going to have to sit his mother down and tell Lenore to back off from his life. Once he figured out what he really felt for Ava, he would.

  Confusion wreaked havoc in his heart. Ava definitely sent him mixed signals—ignoring him for years, even going so far as to cross the street to not have to pass him, refusing any eye contact with him, then working with him on the committee and allowing him to hold her at the funeral. Okay, so she’d been grief stricken. But now she’d called. Twice. Surely that meant something.

  Meant she needed help.

  No, Ava wasn’t a user. Not like her mother. Or like her brother had been.

  Max cringed. He hated to think ill of the dead, but truthfully, everyone in Loomis knew Dylan was a heartbreaker. He used women’s feelings for him when it suited him. And many times, it suited him. Although a couple of weeks ago, he seemed to have changed.

  He’d have to think of a way to tell Ava what he knew without setting off her alarms. He’d started to when she asked questions on the phone, but she’d dismissed him. Maybe he’d get a chance today when he worked with her. The idea of working with her lifted his spirits, he had to admit.

  Patsy rushed into his office and shut the door. “Max, the sheriff and a deputy are here to see you.”

  His heart sank as he struggled to stand. “See me? Whatever for?”

  “They said they had some questions for you. Both of them.”

  In a bigger city, two local lawmen showing up wouldn’t be a big deal. But here, in St. Tammany parish, if more than one in uniform came with questions, it had to be bad news. Very bad.

  Max swallowed against a dry mouth and nodded at his secretary. “Show them in, please, Pats.”

  FOUR

  Talk about an icy reception—the abominable snowman would shiver.

  Ava stared at the office manager blocking the doorway to Dylan’s office. The older woman managed to emit disdain from every pore of her self-righteous being. “I don’t know that the sheriff has completed his search of Mr. Renault’s office. No one’s been allowed in since…since Mr. Renault passed.”

  Passed? Dylan was murdered. “The sheriff’s finished in here, I assure you.” Ava took a step to move around the woman, but Mildred Fontenot
wouldn’t be deterred.

  She shifted in the doorway. “Mrs. Renault never allows anyone to enter her or Mr. Renault’s private offices.”

  Enough! That fine line holding together the last of Ava’s resolve snapped. She propped her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, but do you see the last name on the outside of this building? It’s Renault, my last name. This is my family’s business, and I’m going into my brother’s office to work. Period. Now, please, step aside.” She’d get that power of attorney pronto.

  Mildred hesitated.

  Ava continued to stare in the manner her mother had demanded she perfect years ago. The one that could be considered haughty. With a slight tilt of the head, a jutting out of the chin, it dared anyone to defy.

  The office manager stepped out of Ava’s way, but her expression screamed she didn’t like it one little bit.

  “Thank you.” Ava stepped across the threshold and shut the office door soundly. Score one for everyone who refuses to be intimidated.

  Celebration over her victory was short-lived. The smell in the office engulfed her, cocooning her in the scent of her brother. His cologne, the hint of his shampoo…her senses assaulted, Ava wobbled to the couch and collapsed. Even the constant hum from his empty fish tank accosted her memories. How many times had she made fun of him for having a huge aquarium with no fish? He just liked the calming sound. Or he had liked it.

  What she wouldn’t give to obtain some calmness right now.

  Ava exhaled slowly and got to her feet. She trembled as she made her way to the large mahogany desk. Dylan’s desk. She sank into the leather chair and let her gaze wander over the stacks of papers and folders. Ashamed to admit it, Ava didn’t know if this was Dylan’s working style or not. How long had it been since she’d even stopped by the offices? Why hadn’t she made it a point to meet her brother for lunch at least weekly? So many wasted opportunities. Maybe if she’d spent more time with him, she’d have a clue what his dying words meant.

  She shook her head and swallowed the tears threatening to erupt. Better stiffen her spine before Mildred stormed in and tried to kick her out. With a sigh, she flipped open the first file she came to and peered at the documents inside.

  It was all Greek to her. She didn’t even understand the spreadsheet of investments. This was going to be harder than she imagined. Thank goodness Max had volunteered to come and help her. Until then, she’d just do a little search of Dylan’s desk. Sure, the sheriff had looked around, but how hard was he really investigating? He was so close to retiring and didn’t have the experience for so many back-to-back murders. He’d been sure Dylan was involved in Angelina’s death. How would he know if he stumbled across something important? He wouldn’t. Not that she would, but she had to try. Maybe she’d notice something out of place or odd.

  She’d start with the right top drawer, where even in his office at home, Dylan kept his appointment book and personal items. He’d had carpal tunnel surgery on his left hand a couple of years ago, and ever since, he’d instinctively put everything on the right side.

  The drawer was empty. Nothing but a few rubber bands and paper clips scattered against the wood. Not even a pencil. Ava let her hand rest on the handle. Of course, law enforcement would’ve taken any and everything deemed possible evidence. At least they were working the case. Well, truth be told, probably the FBI investigators. Sheriff Reed was only going through the motions.

  After slamming the drawer shut, Ava checked the other drawers but found them as empty as the first. Frustrated, she turned her attention back to the files. She might not know what all the papers inside meant, but she could look over the names. She knew these people, knew some of their secrets. Maybe Dylan had been murdered because of a business deal gone bad, like Sheriff Reed had suggested. She still couldn’t fathom how the business could be connected to Leah and Earl Farley, and Angelina, but who knew? It was no more outlandish of a theory than Dylan murdering Angelina.

  As she stared at the files, it occurred to her that if there was motive for murder, it wouldn’t be sitting on the desk, out in the open.

  Think, Ava, think.

  Her fingers automatically reached for the medallion hanging from a gold chain around her neck, a habit she’d had for a decade. Touching the heart, her thoughts went to Max. With clarity she recalled the day she’d given him the matching necklace. The summer before her senior year in high school. They’d been sweethearts, until her mother had found out and blew a gasket. Charla had her first “episode” right after it became public that Max and Ava were an item. She put her foot down, despite Ava’s father’s appeals. No child of Charla’s would ever be involved with a child of Lenore Pershing. Ever. Two days later, Charla had the arrangements made…Ava would complete her senior year at a boarding school in New Orleans. The night before Ava left, she snuck out of the Renault Mansion—the first time ever—and met Max at the abandoned Renault Hall.

  Moon shining brightly, Ava waited under the cypress tree covered in Spanish moss. The musky scent of the bayou drifted on the warm August air. Max stepped from the shadows, his arms open to her.

  She moved into his embrace, reveling in the comfort and security he provided. Tears wet her cheeks as she lifted her face for his kiss. Their stolen moment passed much too quickly.

  “I’ll wait for you to come home.” His voice came out shaky, unsteady.

  “I love you.”

  “I’ll love you always.”

  Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a velvet box and handed it to him. His eyes glistened as he took two chains from the case. From each one dangled a medallion engraved with one of their names around a stemmed rose, full of thorns. He put the one with Ava’s name around his neck, swearing to cherish it until they could be together again. She did the same with his.

  “Even apart, we’ll always be together.” He lowered his head to hers again.

  The opening lines of “Louisiana Saturday Night” rang out from her cell phone, startling Ava back to the present. She jumped to her feet and rushed to the couch, grabbed her phone from her purse and flipped it open. “Hello.”

  “Ms. Renault?”

  Not many people called her Ms. Renault. “Yes?”

  “This is Patsy Thomas. Max’s secretary.”

  A vise caught around Ava’s heart. “Yes?” The word came out in a breath.

  “Max asked me to let you know he’ll be unable to come to your office this morning.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment slammed against her chest.

  “An unavoidable emergency came up that he has to handle, but he asks that you meet him at Vincetta’s Italian Restaurant at noon.”

  What to say? Having his secretary call her—what did that mean?

  “He said to tell you if he could’ve postponed this issue, he would have, but he’ll explain over lunch if you’ll let him.”

  She swallowed hard. He’d given her the benefit of the doubt about why she hadn’t come rushing back into his arms, and their relationship, when he’d returned to Loomis. He had even offered to help her with the business. Now the tables were turned.

  “Sure. I’ll meet him there at noon.”

  “I’ll make the reservations now.” His secretary’s voice sounded pleased.

  Had he conveyed to his secretary that meeting with Ava was important?

  Seriously?

  Max had to shake his head, mentally only, of course. The sheriff thought meeting with Dylan the week before the murder gave him, Max, motive?

  “I’ve told you, I met Dylan at the property only to give him my professional assessment of the land’s value.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have met with one of the real estate agents, not you? It’s no secret you guys weren’t friends. Why would he have sought you, of all people, out?” Sheriff Reed sat on the edge of Max’s desk, grating on Max’s nerves.

  “Maybe because he didn’t want anyone to know yet.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say. He
just asked me to keep our meeting quiet.”

  “Hmm.” Sheriff Reed pushed to his feet while Deputy Olson scribbled in a notebook. “Gotta admit, Max, it sounds fishy, don’t it?”

  Truth was, it did sound fishy. Max still wasn’t totally sure why Dylan had called him and asked to meet him at the abandoned Renault Hall. Max had been shocked to hear Dylan claim he wanted to get a rough estimate on the property itself—being so close to the swamp and all. If he built a house, would the value be increased or should he think of building elsewhere? Max had been skeptical, but Dylan had seemed sincere, truly interested, ready to break away from Charla’s controlling issues and build a place of his own.

  Now, telling everything to the sheriff, he had to admit it sounded lame.

  It would to Ava, too.

  Why had he ever agreed to meet Dylan? Why hadn’t he handed the meeting off to one of his agents, or better yet, recommended a good appraiser?

  Because he thought helping Dylan might earn him a spot in Ava’s good graces. After all, they’d been working on the committee together for a couple of weeks, finding a connection with one another again in some small way.

  But Dylan had asked Max not to mention his idea to anyone, not even if he was asked. Not even if Ava was the one asking. A hard request to honor, but Max had.

  Until now.

  “Seems kinda odd that Dylan would request you keep it a secret, yet list your name and the meeting place and time in his appointment book.”

  “I can’t explain that.” The sheriff was right—Dylan’s actions did seem contradictory to his words.

  “Uh-huh.” The sheriff nodded at Olson, who put away the notebook. “Guess I don’t need to tell ya not to leave Loomis. I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you.”

  Max nodded and stood. “Like I’d skip out of town?” He let out a dry laugh. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Right.” Sheriff Reed followed his deputy out of Max’s office, leaving Max to his own thoughts.

  How was he going to explain this to Ava? He’d have to do it before she heard it through the grapevine, which Loomis was incredibly famous for. Just when they’d gotten their relationship on an even keel, now this. Would she listen to his explanation? Understand?