Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  A wet nose nuzzled Joe’s ear and he got a rough licking from Daisy’s large tongue. Cyrus crouched beside him. “Are they in there?”

  “Yes. Nelson’s got a gun and Ellie’s trapped on a catwalk. She must have managed to get away and run. Too bad she couldn’t get to the door.”

  “Should we let Daisy go?”

  Joe thought about it. “Not yet. Nelson could shoot her and be mad enough to shoot Ellie next. I’m goin’ in. Tell Spike and Guy to hold back unless I get into trouble.” If Nelson turned around, Joe would be like a huge cockroach on a white tablecloth—the perfect target.

  “Talk to Spike and Guy first,” Cyrus said. “I’ll get ‘em.”

  “No, please don’t do that. They’ll try to stop me.”

  “Because it’s too dangerous,” Cyrus said. “He’s got a gun. He’ll kill you.”

  “Better that than have him shoot Ellie. If his attention is on me, those two can take him down.”

  At the edge of the pool, not far from the ladder, Joe noticed a coil of rope. It rested around a concrete block. Speed was essential, and wanting to rush Nelson brought Joe close to panic.

  When Paul started yelling at Ellie, Joe couldn’t understand any of it at first. The sound bounced upward and echoed away into the arched ceiling.

  “I said I won’t hurt you,” Nelson shouted. This time Joe concentrated and made out the words. “Just come on down and we’ll work everything out.”

  Ellie didn’t move and Nelson gripped the rails on either side of the ladder. He climbed several steps.

  Joe didn’t know Spike had moved until he threw himself on the ground beside him. “We’re going to pick him off,” he said. “I want you and Cyrus back out of the way in case he has time to get a round off.”

  “I want you to listen while I tell you how this is goin’ to happen,” Joe said. “You and Guy be ready in case I fail but don’t shoot unless I do fail. All he has to do is squeeze the trigger with the gun pointing upward and Ellie could be history.”

  “No. I’ll be giving the orders.”

  Joe stared him down in the wash of light from inside the pool house. “This isn’t your jurisdiction, remember? So don’t try pullin’ rank. Once I get inside—I’ll stay down flat—I’m goin’ to slide into that water and swim to the other side.”

  “And you don’t think he’ll hear you, then see you?”

  “Not the way I’ll be doin’ it.”

  Nelson took another rung, and another. “If you don’t want to die up there, you’ll do as you’re told.”

  “And die down there?” Ellie said. “Why me? What have I done to you?”

  “You saw me in that crowd on Bourbon Street. You shouldn’t have, but you did. You looked right at my face.”

  “No!”

  He climbed another rung. “Yes. You’ve made yourself believe you didn’t, but I can’t risk having you quit suppressing it and start pointing at me.”

  “I didn’t see anyone. If I did, I couldn’t have lived with Charles Penn being convicted.”

  “He’s a criminal. He should be in jail, anyway.”

  Another rung. “All the evidence pointed to him—you should have left it alone. You’ve talked about the shape of a face, and impressions. I heard you sometimes think you see a face half blue, half gold.”

  Ellie craned her neck to check his progress and immediately slammed back against the wall with her hands flattened behind her. “Why don’t you just shoot me?” she said.

  Joe pounded a fist into the mud. “Because that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” he said. He spared a glance for Cyrus and Spike. “Did I tell you he was researching Internet sites about drowning? There was a list of them on his monitor the first time I went in there. And you saw the book, and his little revised version. He won’t shoot her unless he can’t get her into the pool.”

  “Dear Lord,” Cyrus muttered.

  “That was me. Mardis Gras, right?” Nelson said. “Painted face. Feathers.”

  “I didn’t recognize anyone. All I saw were the bottoms of Stephanie’s feet.”

  Nelson dropped back his head and laughed. “Of course, that was her name. Not that it matters. Neither of them mattered.”

  Movement made Joe look toward Guy. With his gun drawn, he balanced on his toes, ready to go.

  The waiting had to be over. Joe pushed himself inside the door and squirmed rapidly to the right. He stayed close to the wall until he reached several piles of cushions for the lounge chairs that were stacked at the far end of the pool. The cushions weren’t directly opposite the ladder, but close enough.

  He had two things to pray for—that Nelson didn’t see him too soon, and that neither Guy nor Spike did something risky. He knew he could trust Cyrus to make sure Daisy didn’t ruin everything.

  “Get away from me.” Ellie’s voice rang out and she stepped forward, clung to the top of the railings and stamped on one of Nelson’s hands as hard as she could.

  The man screamed and sent a shot into the ceiling. “Goddamn you, bitch. Come down, or you can start bleeding right where you are.”

  “If you really wanted to shoot me, you would.” Anger overcame fear in Ellie’s voice and Joe allowed himself a smile. Nelson wouldn’t like that. Her anger would make her more of a challenge and he liked his victims helpless. “You want to do what happens in the book, not spoil your record.”

  From his hiding place behind the cushions, Joe took quick looks at what went on, and he gauged his distance from the edge of the pool. Then he stripped down to his shorts. Glancing up again, he saw Ellie undoing the chain she always wore around her neck. He remembered the solid cross that hung on that chain.

  Nelson moved upward until the top of his head was almost level with the catwalk.

  Ellie’s sharp breaths filled the building. She whacked Nelson’s head with a heel, and when he cried out and looked up at her, Joe saw the glitter of her gold cross as she stabbed it into his face. Again and again she wielded the tiny weapon while Nelson howled and flailed. Finally he reached up with the pistol and struck at her ankles. Ellie cried out.

  Joe seized the noisy moment to throw himself forward, reach the edge of the pool and slip quickly and quietly into the water. He had to trust that Guy and Spike wouldn’t risk using their weapons while Ellie was so vulnerable.

  The boy who grew up swimming in creeks and rivers, and went on to swim for his university, knew what he was doing when he was in the water. A single breath and he dove smoothly down to within inches of the bottom of the pool. Pushing off the wall with his feet, he propelled himself toward the other side and made it to the surface beneath the rim without a gasp or setting the water slopping.

  Nelson made grabs at Ellie’s ankles. From his new vantage point Joe could see blood running into her tennis shoes, but he also noted lines of blood on Nelson’s neck and was certain the man’s face was a mess.

  The inevitable moment came; Ellie met Joe’s eyes and he held his breath, waited for her to call out to him.

  She didn’t. She looked away at once, just as Nelson slammed his gun down on the catwalk in an attempt to catch her foot. With no hesitation, and no loss of timing, Ellie stood on the weapon, on Nelson’s hand clutching the weapon, and crouched to keep her balance while he tried to yank the hand free.

  Joe pulled himself from the water. In one controlled motion he landed a couple of feet from the base of the ladder.

  Nelson cursed in a continuous stream. He needed his free hand to hold on to the ladder, and as long as Ellie could keep her feet where they were, he couldn’t do much.

  “Why did you choose Sonja Elliot’s books?” she asked, panting. “And why those Elliot books? There are others—earlier ones—in the series.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Why not tell me? You intend to kill me, anyway.”

  “You’re a smart mouth. I hate women with smart mouths,” he said.

  “Why not admit you hate all women?”

  “I love Jilly. And she’l
l be mine once all of this is over. I’ll never be suspected and people will forget the thing with Cerise. Sonja Elliot made a mistake. She took all the glory and most of the money. Sure, we went fifty-fifty on the advances, but everything else, she took. Movie rights, music tie-ins, all the sales on the fan crap they make a fortune on. And she wouldn’t acknowledge I was alive. I was forbidden to approach her.”

  “You’re a ghost,” Ellie said, her voice loaded with disbelief. “You write the Elliot books.”

  “I’ve written them for twelve years. At first she did the basic plotting, but she soon gave that up. I plot and I write and her name goes on the books. And her face is on the TV. This is all her fault. She did this.” He sounded as if he was crying.

  “The travel books—”

  “I wrote those, too. Still will. I’ll probably do the Elliot stuff again once the house gets over being scared by the copycat talk. But next time I’ll get my share of everything and it’ll be bigger than dear Sonja’s.”

  Joe stood upright at the bottom of the ladder, looking directly up at Ellie. He wished he didn’t have to rely on her guessing what he wanted her to do.

  She ground her feet into Paul’s hand and he shouted.

  And Joe lunged up two rungs to grab one of Nelson’s feet. He jerked it off the ladder. Nelson screeched. He looked down, trying to push Joe with the loose foot. Joe raised the man’s leg and slammed it into the ladder rungs until Nelson sagged, barely hanging on.

  Joe opened his mouth to tell Ellie to get the gun when she held it up and cried, “I’ve got it.”

  “Give it to me and I’ll look after you,” Paul Nelson wailed. “I’ll make sure you never want for anything. No small-town lawyer can do what I can do for you. Give me the gun and I’ll finish him. We can stay in Toussaint if you like. Pulling it off will be easy. We’ll blame everything on him.”

  Keeping one hand on the ladder and rearing back, Joe tugged Nelson’s leg far away from the wall, then used it to swing to the floor. He barely got out of the way before Nelson fell.

  Daisy, galloping like a small black-and-tan pony with pointed teeth, leaped and landed on Nelson’s back. For one moment Joe thought the dog would take out Nelson’s throat, but Guy Gautreaux called out a command and Daisy slid to sit beside her victim. But she kept her teeth gripped into his collar.

  Cyrus joined the group, looking as if he was ready to punch Nelson out.

  “Come on,” Joe said to Ellie, and helped her when she turned and started for the floor. “I’m never going to wonder why I want you at my side.”

  Completely subdued, now the adrenaline had ebbed, she said, “Thank you.”

  “No, Guy,” Spike shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t do it.”

  Joe reached the cold white tile again and lifted Ellie the rest of the way. And Guy dragged Nelson to his feet.

  “Stop him,” Spike said, running toward them.

  Guy spun Nelson around and Joe saw his face. Small, deep, three-cornered wounds pocked his forehead and cheeks. Guy landed a fist on the man’s nose and followed up with a blistering punch to the gut. Nelson retched and Guy dragged him until his head hung over the pool.

  “You like the idea of drownin’?” Guy said. He had the end of the rope in one hand and yanked it with him as he went. “It can be arranged.”

  A kick to Paul’s kidneys finished him and he vomited, all the while flailing and calling for help.

  Spike produced handcuffs and secured Paul’s hands behind his neck. Guy yanked him to his feet and shoved him toward the door.

  “You’ll suffer for this,” Paul said, sniveling. “They don’t take police brutality lightly these days.”

  Three Iberia officers, their guns drawn, slid around the open doorway. They advanced on the group by the pool.

  Joe sent up thanks for Spike being in uniform, and for identifying himself. “This boy is yours for now,” he told the new officers. “NOPD will want him for previous crimes, but this one’s on your turf.”

  The three gathered around, smartly changed the handcuffs on Nelson and handed back Spike’s. “Thanks,” one man said—a sergeant. “We’ll need to ask questions. Now would be good, while it’s all fresh.”

  Spike turned to Ellie and gave her a critical once-over. “Look, guys. Miz Byron has been through a rough time. What say we get her some medical attention and let her take the night to rest up. I’ll come with you now and get as much done as possible.”

  Guy opened his mouth, but closed it again and didn’t look happy. The man needed his job back.

  The Iberia sergeant agreed to Spike’s proposal, after he’d told the rest of them not to leave the area and mentioned that the house would be under surveillance.

  Spike left with the other officers and Paul Nelson, who had yet to stop arguing his case.

  Ignoring Ellie’s protests and not giving a damn about what he wore—or didn’t—Joe picked up his fiancé and set out for the house with Cyrus and Guy flanking them.

  Light flashed in the sky and thunder followed quickly.

  “I’m thankful we didn’t get the hurricane,” Cyrus said. “This has been more than enough for me today.”

  Not fifty yards ahead of them, blinding streaks of lightning shot out of the heavens. At the same time, thunder boomed and the earth shook. “Stand still, everyone,” Joe snapped. He felt the vibration rumble through Ellie’s body and his own.

  A giant oak tree split down its center, parted and fell slowly to the ground in two smoldering, sparking sections.

  They didn’t speak until Cyrus said, very quietly, “I guess it’s not my place to decide when enough is enough.”

  Homer ran out to meet them, saw the state of Joe, and rushed back to return with an old denim duster. Cyrus took Ellie from him while he put on the coat and buttoned it, but immediately gave her back.

  “I can walk,” she said firmly.

  “Not until we’re sure that monster didn’t break any bones in your feet or ankles.”

  Into the house they went, and Homer led the way into the round sitting room with its suspended, striped-canvas ceiling coverings. It reminded Joe of a plush desert tent.

  “Ellie!” Charlotte and Vivian spoke together.

  Wazoo beamed and jigged up and down. “You done gettin’ yourself beat up now?”

  Madge said, “How blessed we are,” before slipping a hand through Cyrus’s arm and saying, “Are you all right?”

  He said, “Yes,” and smiled into Madge’s face as if she were the only person in the room.

  “Um, Ellie,” Charlotte Patin said. “There’s someone here to see you, but I thought we should make sure you’re up to surprises first.”

  Ellie looked blank. “I’m…well, I’m not fine but I’m okay. Who is it?”

  Homer left and returned with a grin so large Joe doubted anyone would believe it without seeing it.

  Jim Wade entered behind him and Ellie struggled to make Joe put her feet on the ground. He did but she leaned against him. Jim also grinned, but the tall, impressively built man who followed him appeared very serious.

  “This is the client I told you about,” Jim said. “The one who’s thinking of buying property around here.”

  “Leave this to me, Jim,” the man said. He fell silent and walked to stand in front of Ellie. With his head inclined, he smiled at her.

  Trembling visibly, she offered him her hand. He ignored it and hugged her instead. The hug lasted too long for Joe’s liking, but he suffered in silence, trusting Ellie to explain when she was ready.

  “You look great,” Ellie said, looking with admiration—or was that adoration—into the man’s face. “I watch you often. You’re very good at what you do. People love you.”

  “I wish you had contacted me. You were hard to find.”

  “Joe,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “This is my brother, Byron Frazer. Byron, this is my fiancé, Joe Gable.”

  They shook hands and Joe thought Byron no less impressive than he would
have expected a brother of Ellie’s to be.

  “Everythin’s lovely,” Wazoo said. “A weddin’. We need another one of them. And you must be so honored, Ellie. Not many people have TV personalities in their families. Dr. Byron Frazer, expert on the family.” She showed signs of swooning.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Byron said, but all of his attention was on Ellie. “Guess I got here in time to give you away.”

  Ellie blushed and Joe squeezed her arm.

  Wazoo sighed. “You’ll need a place to stay, Dr. Frazer. I think you’ll be comfortable here on the ground floor, don’t you, Miz Vivian? In the central wing, naturally.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Charlotte said. “But I prefer the third floor. Room 308 is lovely. It’ll be even more lovely when the storm shutters come down.”

  “You’re a psychologist,” Wazoo said, slipping a hand under Byron Frazer’s elbow. “I work with animals. D’you think humans and animals are messed up for the same reasons?”

  41

  Two months later:

  “The party’s o-o-over. The candles flicker and dim—”

  “Carmine!” Marc’s strong voice didn’t make its destination over the din at Pappy’s Dancehall. Joe, Spike, Homer, Ozaire Dupre and Wazoo rose up from their chairs together and yelled, “Turn it off, Carmine!”

  The bouncer, splendid in a brand-new silver-and-white Elvis costume, complete with luxurious black wig and the biggest belt buckle in the South, panicked. Rather than change the song on his prized jukebox, he pulled the plug out of the wall and sparks sizzled in the air.

  “You’re all mean,” Ellie said. “He was trying to be appropriate and got a bit muddled.” Smiling, she hurried off, her cream chiffon dress floating and billowing, to have a quiet talk with Carmine. She put an arm through his and led him away to get a glass of champagne.

  “That’s my girl,” Joe said, his chest expanding.

  “That’s your wife,” Cyrus corrected him, and the company laughed as if they had never heard a funnier comment. Whenever he could make people laugh, he was glad.