“Did Spike say if they’d found any evidence yet? Fingerprints they could use, clothing left somewhere…blood?” She coughed. “I thought about simple things, like the front door at the Majestic. She had to touch that to go in.”
“So far, nothing they can use. They’re searching, but I can’t be with them.”
“Why?” Of course she knew why.
“I’m the number one suspect,” Max said. “I doubt they’d think my heart was in it. Today, I expect to spend time with Spike and probably a whole bunch of people who’ve jumped into the case by now.” He raised his face to the ceiling. “Michele told me not to go into the hotel with her but I should have insisted.”
“But you saw her inside?” Annie said.
“Of course. She walked straight in and turned toward the stairs. Why didn’t I stay a bit longer—just to be sure?”
“It’s not your fault at all,” Annie told him. “Would it help if you and I were open about our friendship instead of tryin’ to hide it? The authorities would see there’s nothin’ to suspect you of. That you’re not a man women have to be afraid of.”
His shirt was free of his pants and he shoved his hands underneath to put his thumbs in the waist of his pants. The shirt wasn’t buttoned to the bottom and his flat, muscular belly made it hard for Annie to look away.
“I want to accept your offer. I want us to be together whenever we aren’t working. I would love to ask you to build toward a future with me but I can’t. I told you, two women I got close to, died.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Three years isn’t so long and plenty of people haven’t forgotten. They haven’t found anyone to pin those deaths on.”
“I’m sure they’re workin’ on it,” Annie said. She felt a growing desperation. “If you give up hope, you might as well be guilty.”
He raised his chin and looked down at her. “I think you care.”
She felt her own blush. “I do.”
Max confronted what he had to say. He couldn’t do any sugarcoating at all—not if he gave a damn about Annie. “Listen. I told you what’s happened to me and how I’ve had to run and look for a safe place twice already. Now I might have to move on again—not without fighting to stay—but if it gets impossible to carry on in the area. Someone hates me enough to want to ruin my life. And they don’t care if other people die to make sure it happens.”
She moved in close and slid her fingers beneath his shirt, ran her hands around his waist. He jumped and shook his head. “You know how to get a man’s attention.” The white silk she wore clung to her breasts and the tips poked at the sleek fabric, showing she was reacting to touching him. “How did you manage to keep that to yourself for ten years?”
“I didn’t meet anyone I wanted to be close to.” She averted her eyes.
He inclined his head and ducked to settle his lips on hers. He kept it light but she was sexy as hell, warm, with a clean, faintly rose scent he’d like to settle down with beneath her sheets. And this wasn’t what he’d come here for. Having sex with her again would blessedly numb his brain, but it wouldn’t take reality away. Anyway, she needed a little time to heal.
Annie rubbed his bare back. She leaned her hips into his and then her breasts. He felt every millimeter of her skin where it met his.
“I’m afraid to love you,” he said.
She stood still. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I’ve admitted how people have died for being my friends. That means I’m trapped. If I do what I want and keep on getting closer to you, I could be…you could become a target. Annie, whoever hates me might decide to kill you. I’d do my best to keep you safe, but I can’t take that kind of chance.”
The blood drained from her face. “So you want us to say goodbye? Forget it.” Not so long ago she’d been promising herself she’d stay away from Max, now she knew she couldn’t.
“Do what I tell you to do,” Max said. “For your own sake.”
“Do what you tell me? I don’t think so. I’ve faced danger before and I’m still here.”
“I’ll do what you said before,” Max said. “I’ll wait till you’ve left for work in the morning before I leave the building myself. Afterward, please let me make any moves. I’ll figure out something. Don’t come to me in public, Annie.”
“Are you sure people haven’t figured out we’re close already?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I know some suspect. Wazoo knows.”
“Wazoo has gifts most people laugh at. She just knew I cared about you. I didn’t tell her.”
“Would she keep quiet if you asked her?”
“I’ll ask anyway. You’d be surprised, she’s pretty careful who she trusts. She can say too much, but she’s not the kind to tell all kinds of people about a thing like that.”
“I’ve got to go back where you don’t want me to go.” He didn’t like what he’d decided he had to do. “You passed out in St. Martinville. I want to know what was happening to you. Did you see something that frightened you?” He remembered something. “Were you upset by Bobby? Was that what set you off?”
“No…I don’t know. It was nothing. I hadn’t—”
“Don’t try blaming what happened on lack of food again. I’m not buying it. You need a thorough examination, a full workup, and I’m asking you to get it done.”
She looked at him directly and sighed. “I don’t want to, but I’ll do it. I’ll make an appointment and talk to Reb.”
“And have her take a look at you to make sure there’s nothing to worry about with the bleeding.”
“I can’t do that.”
He raised his eyebrows at her.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” The man was a surgeon, why wouldn’t he be matter-of-fact. Annie felt sick with embarrassment.
“You couldn’t surprise Reb if you tried. She’s been both the only doctor in town and the medical examiner for years. Roche knew her before I did and he says she’s one of the best doctors he’s ever met.”
Annie nodded. “I really like her. I like her cousin, Lee, too.”
“I don’t know her,” Max said. “Runs the newspaper, right?”
“Uh-huh. She’s got a business partner but he isn’t here much. I think everyone in town is afraid they’ll see their name in the Trumpet. She has a gossip column and makes folks mad. She doesn’t name names, but you know who she’s writing about.” She grinned. “Roche likes her, too. Maybe he’s mentioned that.”
Max gave a wide smile. “Oh, no. My dear twin likes to keep his women to himself. And he’s a ladies’ man—in his own quiet way.”
“He’s good-lookin’,” Annie said, hiding a smile. She didn’t need to remind him that he and Roche were hard to tell apart. “I don’t blame Lee for being interested. She’s pretty cute, too.”
Seeing her relax lightened the black weight he felt most of the time.
“You’re very tired,” he said. “Me, too. I can’t say goodbye to you, but we are going to have to do things at my say-so. Let me make the decisions. If we have to meet in the night, or way out of town, we’ll do it. But if we have to wait until the heat’s off in town, that’s what we’ll do.”
He read her expression. She wanted to argue with him so badly. “Get some sleep,” she said. “You don’t have long before you’ll have to get up for work.” Annie went into her bedroom.
He hesitated a moment then knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”
A great deal of rustling came from inside the room. “Okay.”
Max went in to find her kneeling on the floor beside an open bottom dresser drawer. The contents overflowed onto the floor. A jumble of delicate underwear spread in a semi-circle around the chest. Bras, panties, one or two filmy negligees and tangled hosiery. Little packets of powder had been punctured and Max smelled a sweet scent like lily of the valley.
“Did som
eone get in here?” he said, kneeling to help her pick up.
“Oh, they did indeed and they are on my bed.”
He turned and saw her cat, eyes crossed, curled into a tight, spiky ball in the sheets. The cat looked at Max and showed a lot of pointy teeth.
“That cat did this?”
“That cat,” Annie said, “does things like this when she is really mad. Maybe even pissed. She’s ruined all my sachets and put snags in just about everything. You don’t need to help, Max.”
“Have you told her off?”
“I’ll do that,” Annie said. “Irene, you are a naughty cat. How dare you empty my drawer and throw my stuff around. Never do that again.” Her mouth twitched.
“So the cat is boss. I’ve got it.” He got up, pulled Annie with him and plunked her on the side of the bed. “What upset you in St. Martinville—when you came to find me. Were you seeing something I couldn’t see? You seemed like your mind had moved away.”
Annie braced herself for his disbelief. “I have nightmares—and visions. After I was attacked, I had them a lot. They’re back but they’re different now.”
“What happens in these visions?” Goose bumps shot out on Max’s skin.
“I feel as if I’m inside someone who’s losing consciousness. A man makes her…I don’t know, but she can’t move. He drags her along the ground and leans over her. Or me.” She looked at him, her eyes too wide open. “I don’t know if it’s me but I think it could be.”
“Lie down,” he told her. He lifted the sheets and tucked her legs inside. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. “What else? Is there anything else?”
“No.” Pictures burst into her mind, and a distant voice. She didn’t recall knowing about them before, but they were clear now. The voice whispered and there was a face. “The vision gets smaller and smaller until I only see a circle with someone’s face in it. It’s here now.”
“Do you know the face?”
“No, but he looks…Oh, Max, he looks like a surgeon. In the blue helmet thing on his head and a mask and he’s comin’ closer and closer to me.” She slipped lower in the bed. “I’m awake, aren’t I?”
Max’s stomach clenched. “Is it me?”
“No. I don’t know. He said a name, not mine. He’s saying…Isabel. And, Carol.” Max faded. Annie saw the mask, and the eyes, but they fuzzed together. She tried to speak but her voice wouldn’t work.
“You’re making it up!”
The image stopped, dissolved, and Annie saw Max again.
He had stood up and stepped away from the bed. “Why?” he said. “Who put you up to this?”
Annie rose to her elbows. “What’s the matter? You asked me what happened and I’ve told you. I haven’t told anyone else.”
“Who told you those names? Who did they say they were?” He took her by the shoulders. “Answer me.”
“No one told me. I heard them just now. I’m scared. Let me go, you’re hurtin’ me.” The fury in his eyes alarmed her. “Let me go, Max.”
Carefully, he put her down against her pillows but didn’t release her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Annie said. “Max, when I see the bodies, they’re burned, set fire to, then buried. I think they’re dead first but I’m not sure.”
The sound he made wasn’t human.
“Max!”
“Isabel was my high-school girlfriend, the one who died. Carol was the nurse who was murdered while we were dating. Both of their bodies were burned.”
Spinning away, hitting walls as he went, Max all but ran from the apartment.
His footsteps thundered on the stairs.
For seconds Annie couldn’t move, then she threw off the sheets and rushed to her small office. The window overlooked the garden.
The gate to the alley stood open. A low, gray car shot under a light mounted on the alley wall and roared away.
The names, the impression of a man in surgical scrubs were new. Annie pressed her temples. Max being a surgeon must have influenced what she saw. He couldn’t be blamed for questioning her behavior.
Shadows shifted outside. A tall figure stepped from the garden into a wedge of pale light at the gate. Annie got a single, brief profile of the man before he disappeared. A hood covered his head.
CHAPTER 13
All Tarted Up belonged to Jilly Gautreaux, Guy Gautreaux’s wife and Joe Gable’s sister. Jilly and Joe used to own the café and bakery together until Joe’s law practice got too busy.
Guy’s office was in the upstairs apartment Jilly had vacated when she first moved into the house they now shared. The shingle for his private investigation service hung to the right of the shop where an open door invited clients to come inside.
By midmorning, All Tarted Up usually quieted down before the lunch rush. Not this morning. On a humid day, with rain-washed red honeysuckle blossoms shouting among clump bamboo in planters outside the shop, Father Cyrus paused on the hot sidewalk and peered through steamed up windows into the crowded interior.
There were some empty chairs. He entered the bright pink door, walking sideways to avoid a queue that divided the shop into two sections all the way to the counter. An assortment of familiar faces, and strangers, left with bags and boxes of pastries, and Jilly’s big cardboard party containers of iced tea and coffee. He figured this crush of customers might be something to do with the searches going on for Michele Riley.
“Hey, Cyrus.” Joe Gable stood up at a table against the wall and waved Cyrus over.
“Thanks,” he mouthed, threading his way back and sitting down. He gave the girl who poured him coffee a grateful smile. “Marzipan tarts?” he asked without much hope that they wouldn’t be sold out by now.
The girl, a nice kid called Sidney who lived in a trailer park south of town, gave Cyrus what resembled a quick curtsey and said softly, “Miz Jilly, she always has us keep some back in case you come in, Father.” She smiled and her soft dark eyes lit up. “Mr. Gable, more coffee?”
“You bet.” Joe slid his mug close and waited while it was filled. “Here we go again, huh?” he said when the girl had left. The noise in the place made quiet conversation safe. “For a little town, we do attract the screwballs. What are you thinking so far—about this missin’ woman? They haven’t found anything on her yet and they’ve been searchin’ around the clock for three days.”
“Marc Girard and I went out yesterday. There were fifty of us and we hit every inch along the Teche for miles. Didn’t find anythin’ but what you’d expect.” Toussaint had seen more than its share of serious trouble but Cyrus always felt there was a whole lot more good than bad in the bayou town. “Michele Riley wouldn’t be the first person who decided to drop out and start over somewhere else. Could be somethin’ to do with her upcomin’ marriage. Folks can get scared of commitment.”
“You think Spike believes somethin’ like that?” Joe asked.
“Spike’s playin’ it close to the vest. He’s involvin’ the police and if she doesn’t show up by the end of the day, we’ll be seein’ the FBI. Spike hates that but he doesn’t mess around—even if there are one or two who think the FBI should have been in on day one. Spike leans on Guy when he needs to. He respects his opinion.”
Pushing a spoon back and forth on the tabletop Joe said, “Spike’s no fool. He’s got access to some real useful talent there so he uses it. Ellie told me NOPD still calls and says Guy’s got an open invitation to go back.”
Cyrus cleared his throat. “I heard Spike’s deputized him.”
Joe glanced at his sister behind the counter, laughing at her customers, loving the business. “Jilly won’t think much of that,” he said. “If she could get her husband to take down his P.I. shingle, she would. She keeps talkin’ about him doin’ somethin’ with white-collar crime.”
Cyrus chuckled. “Madge said Jilly told her about that. I guess it didn’t last long after he said he’d look into the FBI. He’s doin’ a service with the job he’s made for himself here. He
’s a deterrent to a certain kind of people, and a help to others.”
“You put that up right now,” Jilly said loudly, grinning and tapping the back of a customer’s hand. The man gave a theatrical howl and didn’t relinquish his beignet, despite the powdered sugar that puffed onto his overall bib. “What d’you think you’re doin’, Zeb? Eatin’ the merchandise before you get it paid for? Sheesh, no manners.”
Zeb Delacour ran the big ice plant just out of town and he blushed easily.
“I’m only joshin’ you,” Jilly said. “Finish that and have another one. You work hard.”
“Isn’t she somethin’?” Joe said.
“Sure is. Temper like a mother gator on eggs, but the best heart in the world. It’s nice to see a brother and sister as close as you two are. How’s Ellie? We don’t see that wife of yours often enough.”
“She’s great,” Joe said, and closed his mouth. He touched Cyrus’s arm and looked toward the door.
“You want me to turn around and stare at somethin’?” Cyrus said. “Not cool, as my young friend Wally would say.” Wally was Gator and Doll Hibbs’s only chick and Cyrus’s shadow when the boy could get away. Cyrus had mentored Wally since he was a skinny kid and they remained friends now that Wally had become a gangly teenager.
“Yeah,” Joe said. “Turn the back of your chair to the wall. You’ll look real cool. And these three won’t notice you anyway. Hoo-mama, those Savage brothers got plenty on their minds and it’s makin’ ’em unfit for public appearances.”
Cyrus whipped his chair around, back to the wall, crossed one leg over the other and laced his fingers over his middle. “Cool enough?” he said, sotto voce.
He and Joe fell silent, watching Kelly, Max and Roche Savage stand inside the door and look around for an empty table. Max resembled an unexploded bomb and Kelly looked at him as if he were ready to light the fuse.
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