The Unknown Woman

by Laurie Paige

  KERRY STOPPED in front of the museum, reluctant to enter, as if bad news awaited her if she went inside.

  “Something wrong?” Matt asked in his discerning manner.

  “It was only two days ago that I first came here, Saturday afternoon at two o’clock as Patti suggested. It seems much longer.”

  “Because so much has happened since then,” he said, holding the door for her.

  They went inside. As before, burning incense sticks filled the air with spicy odors. Beneath that, the smell of mold permeated the old house, reminding her of decay and death. She hadn’t particularly noticed that on Saturday.

  Standing beside the table where she’d had tea with Patti, she waited for someone to appear.

  Footsteps on the stairs told her someone was coming from the upper floor. A man appeared. He had a beard and long hair. Both were streaked with gray, although he didn’t look over forty.

  “Hello,” he said with a friendly smile.

  Kerry was relieved to see that he was dressed in well-faded jeans and a T-shirt, although a tiny gold ring pierced the edge of one eyebrow.

  “Good morning,” Kerry and Matt answered together.

  Matt motioned for her to continue. “We’re here about Patti—Queen Patrice,” she added.

  The man looked thoughtful and sad. “I talked to the police yesterday. The detective told me what happened. Are you friends of hers?”

  “We met her recently,” Matt said. “We wanted to find out if you know where she’s from and if she has any family.”

  The man shook his head. “We told the cops all we knew, which wasn’t much. My wife and I will miss her. She was a very reliable employee. The tourists liked her, too.”

  “She took my picture with Jolie,” Kerry told him, “so I could impress my nephew.”

  The owner smiled. “Yes, she was great with the pythons.” He studied them a second. “She didn’t have any family that I know of.”

  “Oh,” Kerry said despondently.

  “You know, you might find out more about Patti at the warehouse where she was working on a Mardi Gras float. She said a friend of hers was in charge of getting part of the float done and that his father was the krewe king.”

  Kerry tried to relate this information to the few facts she recalled about Mardi Gras floats. The “krewe” was the sponsoring group for the float. There was always a king, usually an older, prominent citizen, and a queen or princess, often a young beautiful woman.

  That sounded sexist to her, but it wasn’t her concern at the moment. The detective had mentioned a boyfriend. That was the best lead they had so far. “Do you know where the warehouse is located?”

  “Yes. Here, I’ll show you on a map.” He took a pamphlet from the table and opened it.

  Kerry and Matt looked over his shoulder while he drew an X to indicate the museum and another to show them where the warehouse was located near the river but past the French Quarter. He handed them the map, which was the usual one given to visitors by shops and hotels.

  “Do you know the friend’s name?” Matt asked.

  “Sorry, I don’t. Patti was friendly with everyone, but she was reserved when it came to her personal data. However, she did tell us amusing stories about working on the float and the frustration of dealing with hundreds of volunteers.”

  “Thank you so much for your time,” Kerry said, knowing they’d gotten all the info the man had.

  Matt expressed his appreciation, too, and shook hands with the man. Outside, he and Kerry stopped under a shade tree and checked the map.

  “This way,” he said, pointing down the street. “It’s several blocks. Do you want to walk or grab a taxi?”

  “Would you mind walking? If I continue with the decadent desserts, I’m going to need the exercise.”

  “Okay. Let’s go down to the river and stroll along it. We may as well enjoy the scenery.”

  When he held out his arm, she found it very natural to rest her hand in the bend of his elbow as they headed for the riverfront.

  KERRY AND MATT found the street that led to the Warehouse District. The street name was Tchoupitoulas, but neither Matt nor Kerry knew how to pronounce it.

  “After checking out the warehouse,” Matt said, “we should go for a ride on a steamer, maybe have lunch aboard.”

  “Sounds fun. I want to tour some of the plantations, too.”

  “Okay, we’ve got a plan.”

  He gave her an easy smile that made her heart feel lighter and her blood warmer. Although they had to avoid areas of construction, which was still going on as a result of hurricane damage, they found an interesting mix of galleries and shops in the area.

  When at last they reached the address marked on the map by the museum owner, they discovered a huge warehouse. Its doors stood wide open, and inside, volunteers swarmed over the framework of an impressive flower-bedecked float.

  “I think it’s a garden,” Kerry said.

  “It is,” a young man told them, hurrying over with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other. He looked to be in his early twenties, tall and attractive with black hair and light blue-gray eyes. He didn’t even glance at them. “Whose team are you on?”

  “None,” Matt answered. “Uh, I’m Matt Anderson. We met yesterday at your home.”

  “Matt, of course.” The younger man switched the pencil to his other hand and shook hands with Matt, apologizing at once for not recognizing him.

  “Kerry, this is Jason Pichante. His father hosted the wine-tasting I attended yesterday afternoon. Jason, Kerry Johnston. Like me, Kerry’s a guest in your fair city.”

  “Welcome to the Big Easy,” Jason said.

  Kerry thought his manner somewhat preoccupied and distant even as he smiled graciously.

  “Sorry, Matt, Kerry,” Jason continued, “but only workers are allowed in. You’re not allowed in. However, you may watch from the door as long as you don’t go inside. Or you can help on the cottage garden,” he suggested.

  When Matt glanced at Kerry, she nodded. This was a chance she didn’t want to miss. Maybe they could find Patti’s friend and he could tell them how to locate her family or at least verify that she had been alone in the world.

  “Working on the float sounds like fun,” Matt said. He turned to Kerry. “This will be something to brag about to our friends and families when we watch the Mardi Gras parade on television.”

  “We’ll probably be snowed in and wish we were back here where the weather is beautiful,” Kerry added ruefully.

  “Let me get your names and addresses,” Jason told them. “You’ll have to sign releases in case of an accident.”

  After he got all the personal information required by insurance companies, he had them sign the city’s release forms and then introduced them to his assistant, a friendly young blonde named Ashley James.

  “Welcome to the crew,” she said enthusiastically.

  “Is that crew with a c or krewe with a k?” Kerry asked.

  Ashley grinned. “With a c. We’re just worker bees here. Jason is a member of the krewe putting the float together. His dad is the king, in fact.”

  “What shall we do?” Matt asked before Kerry could say anything about Patti’s boyfriend. He gave her a warning squeeze on the arm to be patient.

  Kerry listened carefully to the instructions. She and Matt were assigned the task of stringing support wires between rebar poles for the “flowers” that would bloom there. Every flower on the float, they learned, would be made from actual plant material.

  After working for two hours with six other people, a break was called. Sodas and iced tea were served along with Mardi Gras cakes and cookies.

  “Chew carefully,” Ashley said when Kerry chose one of the cakes. “Those are king cakes and have tokens in them.”

  “As a dental hygienist, that possibility worries me,” Kerry told her. She and Matt found a place to sit with their backs against the warehouse wall.

  “I’ll try not to break a tooth on a
trinket,” he promised with a grin.

  Kerry was glad she was sitting. His smile was enough to make her knees go weak, especially after they’d been working so closely all morning. Their shoulders, arms and hands had touched constantly as she held the wires in place while he twisted them around the supports with pliers.

  His scent had mingled with hers, giving her heady ideas about heated caresses in a cool, dim room.

  “Matt,” she said, directing her thoughts to the reason they were here, “do you think Jason Pichante could be the friend mentioned by the museum owner? If his father is the krewe king, then he must be, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure. Jason is from an old New Orleans family. He probably wouldn’t be involved with a waitress and voodoo queen—”

  He broke off abruptly.

  “What?” she demanded.

  Matt reminded Kerry about the tension he’d witnessed between father and son at the wine tasting. “After Jason slammed out of the room, his father said his son thought he was in love, but the person was unsuitable.”

  “Like Patti,” Kerry concluded, angry on her behalf. “Do you think Jason even knows she died? It must have been in the papers by now. The guy at the museum didn’t mention anyone asking about her, other than the police.”

  “We could be wrong about the friend’s identity,” Matt reminded her. “We’ll have to ask someone. Ashley would probably know.”

  Kerry nodded. She took a bite of the cake, which was a cinnamon pastry with gold, green and purple icing. “Oh-oh,” she muttered. She carefully extracted a tiny object that had been in the cake. “It’s like a little doll—a baby,” she said.

  Ashley came over and sat on the floor in front of them with a glass of iced tea and a cookie. “That’s very good luck, you know. It represents the Christ Child. The Mardi Gras colors and trinkets represent the gifts of the Three Wise Men to the Baby Jesus.”

  “Twelfth Night is the Epiphany, the night they found the stable and presented their gifts,” Matt added. “I read that in the book from the museum.”

  Kerry thought this was a good lead-in and gave Matt a grateful glance. “Did you know the docent there?” she asked Ashley. “Queen Patrice?”

  “Patti? Of course.” Ashley looked puzzled. “She works on the float, too, but she didn’t come in this morning.”

  “Then you don’t know that she seems to have overdosed on something Saturday night?” Kerry asked.

  “Overdosed,” Ashley repeated. “Is she okay?”

  “No. She died.” Kerry noted the shock in the young woman’s eyes.

  “She was supposed to have worked yesterday afternoon, too,” Ashley murmured. “Jason was very upset when I asked about her. Oh, my God, does he know?”

  Kerry had a question of her own. “Was he Patti’s boyfriend?”

  Ashley stared at her without answering.

  “The owner at the museum said she had a friend whose father was the krewe king,” Kerry continued, “and that Patti worked on the float. That’s why we came—”

  “You can’t ask questions,” Ashley said suddenly.

  “Why?” Matt asked, his tone hard.

  Ashley glanced around as if expecting the secret police to pounce on them. “Jason is from a very old, very powerful family in New Orleans. They will protect their own if you try to implicate him in…in anything.”

  “Such as the death of a young woman he was seeing?” Matt suggested. “An inappropriate young woman?”

  Tears filled Ashley’s eyes. “Patti was a friend. She was from a family as old and prestigious as the Pichantes, only they lost most of their money long ago. When Patti was eight, her father lost everything they had left.”

  “Like what?” Matt asked.

  “A plantation—terribly run-down, from what Patti said. Her father committed suicide after that. Her mother had died in an auto accident the year before.”

  “Did Patti go to an orphanage or into foster care?” Kerry inquired.

  Ashley shook her head. “Her aunt had married money. She and her husband took Patti in. But it was a miserable life, I think,” Ashley confided in a very low voice. “They didn’t want her and made sure she knew it was only by their great kindness that she had a home.”

  “How did she meet Jason?”

  “University. Her relatives had sent her to Newcombe College. It’s part of Tulane. That’s where all the people of their social status go, so Patti had to go there, too.”

  “Did she get a degree?”

  “Yes, in fine arts.” Ashley grimaced. “Shh, here comes Jason.”

  “I want to talk to him,” Kerry stated.

  “Be careful.” Ashley rose and headed toward the refreshment table for a refill of iced tea.

  Jason joined Matt and Kerry. “Are you enjoying the work on the float?” he asked.

  “It’s different,” Matt said in an affable tone. His smile faded. “There’s something we need to know.”

  Jason cast him a wary glance.

  “We’re interested in Patti Ruoui. According to the owner at the museum where she worked, Patti had a friend whose father was the krewe king on a float she worked on. The police think she also had a boyfriend. That would be you, wouldn’t it?”

  The younger man paled, then twin peaks of color bloomed across his cheeks. “Patti was a friend,” he admitted guardedly. “We saw each other at times. She was a regular with the work crew on the float.”

  “So there was nothing serious between the two of you?” Matt persisted.

  “No. Nothing.” He rose. “It’s time to get back to work. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Were you with her Saturday night?” Matt inquired.

  “Why do you ask?” His eyes seemed to turn black as he stared at Matt, almost daring him to say more.

  “Apparently she took an overdose that night and was left for dead in a hotel room.” Matt paused. “Mine.”

  “Mon Dieu,” Jason muttered. “She isn’t…dead?”

  Kerry caught the hesitation on the last word. Jason hadn’t answered Matt’s question, she noted, her suspicions aroused. If he had been with Patti Saturday, had he left her, thinking she had merely passed out?

  “Yes,” Matt stated flatly, “she died. The medical examiner is doing an autopsy today, I understand.”

  “I see. I know someone in his office. I’ll call and find out if they know how she…what caused the death.”

  He left them without a backward glance as he went to Ashley and gave her some orders about her crew.

  She nodded several times. After Jason left her, she tossed a warning glance their way, then went back to work with the other volunteers.

  “Let’s go,” Matt said. “I think we’ve found out all we’re going to here.”

  “I agree.”

  With a wave to Ashley, they headed out the door and into the sunshine. “It’s after eleven,” Matt said. “Let’s see about that ride on a steamboat.”

  “Sounds great.”

  They caught a bus back to the river park and found a place to buy tickets on one of the stately river steamers. When Kerry offered to pay for her share for the ride and plantation tour, Matt eyed the bills she held, then her, but he didn’t insist on playing the cosmopolitan spender from the big city, which she would have found insulting.

  Another point in his favor.

  The list of his virtues was growing quite long. He was more than charming; he was thoughtful in ways she hadn’t noticed in the male population back in her hometown.

  However, she seemed to notice a lot more about this man than she did any other. They also had an intuitive understanding of each other that was surprising and wonderful and maybe a little frightening.

  Was she under some kind of spell? She silently laughed at herself as her imagination went wild.

  Follow the shining path…

  She inhaled slowly, carefully as her pulse went into overdrive. Was Matt her co-traveler on this great adventure, her guide to a magical interlude of romance
and excitement on the strangest vacation of her life?

  Mentally crossing her fingers, she hoped so. She truly hoped so.

  A FEW MINUTES AFTER noon, Kerry and Matt were on a steamboat huffing its way upriver. Another boat passed them, its calliope blasting loud enough to “wake the dead,” Kerry said, leaning over to shout in Matt’s ear in order to be heard.

  “Or perhaps the undead,” he shouted back.

  His lips were so close to her cheek it would have taken very little effort for him to steal a kiss, but he refrained. She wished he hadn’t, or that she had enough nerve to steal one herself.

  The thought filled her head with so many other possibilities as he lingered near her for another second. She sighed when he settled back in his seat.

  Their food arrived. She tried to figure out how to eat the huge sandwich, which was the local version of a po’ boy.

  “Muffletta sandwich?” Kerry said, gazing at the plate in awe. “This is more than four people can handle.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Matt teased. “I’m starved after all that work on the float. I thought we were only going to spend a half hour there.” He lowered his eyebrows at her.

  “Well,” she said loftily, “we had to gain Ashley’s trust so she would talk to us.” She picked up the knife and fork, approaching the giant sandwich by cutting it into bites.

  “Jason was lying,” Matt said. “He and Patti were much more than friends.”

  “I agree. Did you see how pale he went, then those red spots appeared on his cheeks as he tried to be casual about her?”

  Matt nodded.

  “I don’t see how he could learn of her death and just walk away like that, as if it meant nothing to him.”

  “Perhaps it didn’t,” Matt said, softly now that the other boat had passed them and the music was a pleasant melody wafting on the breeze.

  Kerry swallowed hard, and her eyes burned as she blinked rapidly. “He couldn’t be that callous.” She gazed at Matt. “Could he?”

  Matt lifted one hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know.”

  CHAPTER SIX