Out of Sight

by Stella Cameron

  “Just a wild guess.” She reached into a skirt pocket and pulled out something, which she pressed into Poppy’s hand. “This is nothing, just a little thing because I like you so much.”

  In her hand Poppy held a dark green velvet bag embroidered with even darker green beads. It hung on a silk cord. “It’s cute,” she said.

  Wazoo folded Poppy’s hand over the bag. “It’s also special. I think you know what I mean. Please, for my sake, keep it with you at all times. You can easily wear it under your clothes.

  Slipping the cord around her neck, Poppy put the soft bag with it’s slightly lumpy filling under her T-shirt. She wasn’t sure what she thought about fetishes, amulets, but things were strange all over so why not hedge her bets?

  “Thank you,” she said. “You made it, didn’t you?”

  “It would be worthless if I hadn’t.” She leaned to see around Poppy in the other direction. “And here comes more interesting company looking for you.”

  The interesting company was Ward this time. He strode into the club in that way he had of seeming to take up all the space around him. And he didn’t look as if he’d spent harrowing hours under police questioning.

  “There you are, honey,” he said, spotting Poppy and switching paths. “I finally decided I would come here and wait until you showed up. To be blunt, I kind of thought you’d be here anyway. Did your brothers tell you I’ve been trying to get you for hours?”

  “They did,” Poppy said, overwhelmed as she usually was by his larger-than-life presence. He seemed to pull a whirl of air with him and anyone in earshot stopped to watch.

  His cream silk shirt was open at the neck to show a V of tanned skin and his pants, light brown and also silk, hit the well-toned muscle in his thighs with every step.

  He slid in beside Poppy and tipped her face up to his. She didn’t react quite fast enough to evade the kiss he dropped on her lips. “You have no idea what those goons put me through,” he said, holding the sides of her head as if she were made of fine china.

  “Couldn’t have been that bad,” Wazoo said from the corner recesses of the booth. “You look pretty fresh and feisty to me.”

  Ward looked at her as if he hadn’t noticed she was there before.

  “This is my friend, Wazoo,” Poppy said. “And her friend’s dog.”

  “Yeah” was the most reaction that got. “Best news in the world, sweetheart. It’s all over. The monster who did that to poor Sonia showed up on the surveillance tapes from my place. But she didn’t die for nothing. No, sir, not for nothing. I’m going full steam ahead now, because I believe Sonia died so someone could use her to stop me doing what I set out to do. Well, it’s not going to work.”

  Wazoo sang, “How Come My Dog Doesn’t Bark When You Come Around?” Not quite under her breath.

  Poppy didn’t know where to look or who to talk to, but she did see the door to her office open and Nat emerge with Sykes and Liam.

  They came toward the booth but paused when Ethan appeared from the back, briefcase in hand. The four of them exchanged a few words before Ethan walked out of the club.

  “That must be another of your brothers,” Wazoo said. “My, oh, my, such delectable men there are in the French Quarter. There’s something irresistible about a really dark man.”

  If Ward wasn’t so self-confident he might notice the comment, but he knew he was good-looking, dark or not.

  “Having a good time, ladies?” Liam said. The moment he stood beside the table he took a beignet and a napkin and managed to eat the now-cold dough without dropping a speck of sugar.

  “We were,” Wazoo said with a glance in Ward’s direction.

  “Hey, Archer,” Ward said. “You still following me?”

  “No,” Nat said shortly. “Have you met Liam Fortune and Sykes Millet?”

  Ward gave the two men a sunny inspection. “Hey, Liam, it feels good to be back here. Where have I seen you, Sykes?”

  “A lot of people seem familiar,” Sykes said flatly. He obviously wasn’t happy to see Ward.

  Poppy caught his eye and recoiled from his deadpan expression.

  The deadpan disappeared fast and dramatically. “Mario,” he said, pointing at the dog Wazoo held. “My sister Willow’s dog. Where did you find him?”

  “He followed Nat in here, and Nat said for me to look after him. Now I understand the poor little boy’s confusion.” She hugged him close. “You got lost, but you’ll be just fine now. Relax and let all the tension out.”

  Poppy actually heard the dog sigh.

  “Sheesh, I’d better call Pascal,” Sykes said. “Ben and Willow shipped the dog home from Kauai yesterday for a vet’s visit. Pascal said they’d lost him and they were worried sick.”

  “He walked right up to me outside,” Nat said. “Good boy, aren’t you?” He reached across the table to scratch Mario between his ears.

  “Must have come here looking for Ben and Willow,” Liam said. “Must be a bloodhound in disguise.”

  “I was just telling Poppy my good news,” Ward said and sounded unusually strained.

  “That Sonia Gardner apparently wasn’t murdered by you, but by someone else?” Nat said.

  “Exactly. Not that anyone could seriously have thought I was capable of something like that. Wow, I’m going to celebrate. We’re going to celebrate, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

  Poppy could feel Sykes’s reaction without looking at him. He went stiff. When she did look at him his face was devoid of expression.

  “Too bad Sonia can’t be around for the celebration,” Nat said, dropping his face and looking up at Ward from beneath well-defined brows.

  “Poor, poor girl,” Wazoo said. “Do you have the killer in custody, Nat?”

  He frowned at her.

  “Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders. “I forgot I’m not supposed to ask questions like that.”

  “Who did you say this was?” Ward said, looking pointedly at Wazoo now.

  “My very good friend,” Nat said. “My best friend.”

  All eyes were on Wazoo who swallowed visibly. She held Mario close but only had eyes for Nat.

  This was not, Poppy decided, a one-way love.

  “I’m taking my girl to Bayona for lunch,” Ward said leaning over Poppy. He lowered his voice but not enough to stop everyone from hearing what he said. “I didn’t waste my time this morning. I got you a little something to say sorry for putting you through so much. Sweetheart, you know I would never deliberately worry you.”

  “Whoops,” Wazoo said and fanned herself with one hand. “Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? This isn’t your day after all, Mr. er…Poppy and Sykes are all tied up already. Spa for couples. Oh, my. Let me tell you that is some experience. Although, I guess, it’s what you make it. What is that place called?”

  “Hands On,” Liam supplied helpfully.

  Poppy wanted to laugh until Sykes said, “It wasn’t that easy to get a reservation but I suppose…” He let the rest trail off but he had already showed Poppy just how much he did not want her with Ward.

  “Don’t be silly,” Wazoo said. “Poppy’s been looking forward to it all morning.”

  “I’ll need you with me, Wazoo,” Nat said gruffly. “We’ll get Mario back to Royal Street for Sykes. I need a few words with Gray anyway. He may be there.”

  “Poppy?” Ward said.

  “I’m sorry to spoil your plans.” She smiled apologetically at him and when he didn’t move, Wazoo hastily left the booth to let Poppy slide out.

  “I guess that leaves you and me, Ward,” Liam said. He sat down beside the other man. “I went to one of your fundraisers last night. Maybe you can fill me in more on your plans—since you weren’t there. We can have an early lunch right here. I’ll have our chef come out and talk to us. He’s very accommodating. He does magical things with a pheasant. Not as magical as what gets whipped up at Hands On, I’m sure, but…” He shrugged eloquently.

  21

  Sykes expected one of t
hem to laugh.

  They stood on the sidewalk outside Fortunes. Wazoo’s hand was tucked under Nat’s arm and he held Mario. Poppy looked at the ground.

  “We’ll be off then,” Nat said.

  “Where’s your car?” Sykes asked, glancing around.

  “Bucky took it back,” Nat said. “See you later.”

  “Why are you looking for Gray?” Sykes said. He couldn’t contain his curiosity.

  “I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention it unless he does, but Gray may fill in for Bucky Fist. Bucky’s got to go off on compassionate leave. Illness in the family.”

  “Fill in for Bucky?” Sykes’s voice got louder with each word until he realized he was shouting and dropped his voice. “As your homicide partner? Does Marley know, for God’s sake?”

  “I wish I hadn’t said anything,” Nat said. “Maybe we’ll decide against it but I really need him and he’s the only one who can slip into Bucky’s shoes without needing any training. Plus, he knows the cases we’re dealing with.”

  “Marley’s pregnant,” Sykes said.

  “I think that’s sweet,” Wazoo said, looking distant. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “This will all be over long before the baby’s born,” Nat said, but he did have the grace to look uncomfortable. “You’ll be late for your appointment if you don’t go now.”

  Sykes squinted at him. It wasn’t raining anymore and the sun had awoken ferociously. “What appointment?”

  “Hands On,” Nat said weakly. “Isn’t that what you told me?” he asked Wazoo.

  With no warning, Mario wriggled and fell from Nat’s arms. The dog jumped at Sykes, who automatically caught him.

  “He wants to be with you,” Wazoo said, wrinkling her brow. “Look at him.”

  Mario settled comfortably.

  “Forgive me but I’m going to have to duck out fast on this party and get some work done,” Poppy said. She sounded angry, and looked angry. “The last thing I want is to have Ward rushing out here and finding us before I can get to my apartment.”

  “Why don’t you tell Mr. Smooth to get lost?” Wazoo said.

  Poppy smiled at her and tapped her chest, like a sign between the two of them. “He’ll lose interest.”

  “You don’t like him,” Nat said. “So why are you encouraging him?”

  “She’s not encouraging him,” Sykes said through his teeth. “In case you didn’t notice, he’s hooked.” And he didn’t blame the man even if he did instinctively wish he’d leave town for good.

  “I’ve got to go.” Hurrying, looking over her shoulder at the entrance to Fortunes, Poppy slipped up the alley beside the club and disappeared inside the door she and Sykes had used earlier.

  “Excuse me.” A tap on his shoulder interrupted Sykes’s plotting. He wanted to get to Poppy again and very soon.

  “Yes?” He glanced behind him and started. David, the teenager who said he was Pascal’s son, stood there, sunglasses still firmly in place, heavy black duster zipped from hem to neck despite the warmth.

  “I was out for a walk and I saw you here.”

  Sykes didn’t think so but he’d figure out the truth when they did not have an audience. “Hey, David. Be with you in a minute.”

  He turned to Nat and Wazoo again. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Pascal I’ll be there shortly. He’s not going to be pleased about Gray, either. This is a bad time to drag him into the middle of everything.” He remembered the boy. “This is David—” What else was he supposed to say?

  “David Millet,” David filled in for him. “Who are you?” He stared at Wazoo with open fascination.

  “Detective Nat Archer,” Nat said. “Homicide. This is—”

  “I’m Wazoo. I come from Toussaint but Nat’s my good friend.” She glanced at him, smiled and added, “My best friend. That’s why I’m in New Orleans.”

  With satisfaction showing, Nat pulled her away but Sykes didn’t miss the significant once-over he gave David. He would ask Pascal about the boy. Sykes was almost sorry he’d miss witnessing that.

  “Okay,” Sykes said when the other two had left. “Who told you where to look for me?”

  “No one.”

  Sykes stood quite still and concentrated. With his own guard up, he sent out receptors for any signals from David’s mind.

  “Pascal didn’t tell you I could be over here?”

  The boy’s mouth tightened. He leveled the big lenses of his cheap wraparound sunglasses at Sykes. “I said I was going for a walk. He told me to be careful.”

  The kid’s Adam’s apple bobbled and something in Sykes responded, softened. “Pascal is a very good man,” he said, not sure why he felt he had to say as much.

  David nodded, yes. “I’m an inconvenience. Bound to be.”

  “Are you hungry?” Sykes asked.

  This time he got the head shake, no, but he did not believe it. This boy could use a whole lot of eating.

  Sykes considered the best way to make sure the Fortune brothers were on the case with Poppy being upstairs at the club, alone.

  And he felt a distinct if faint series of attempts to join his wavelength. Small, almost imperceptible probes.

  Finding out where they came from was easy for him but he identified the locators with some trepidation.

  David. Just as he had expected. Millet or not, this was a paranormal and unless Sykes was very mistaken, there were considerable powers here.

  “Let’s start walking,” he said, hiking Mario under his arm. “There’s a little place I like on Chartres Street. It won’t take us too far from the shop. Do you mind if I make a call?”

  The glasses turned toward Sykes again. “Sure.”

  David was almost as tall as Sykes. Whatever else he might not have done today, he had given his scalp a fresh shave. His duster had large pockets that snapped and they bulged—with the things David held most dear, Sykes imagined. But he had felt he could leave his backpack at Pascal’s place.

  Sykes pulled out his phone and called Ethan. He told him Poppy was at home and Ethan’s reaction revealed that he understood the message.

  They walked down Dauphine Street to Chartres where Sykes stepped through the open doors to Arlo’s Diner and led the way to a booth near the windows.

  The good old smell of fried everything permeated the place and unintelligible shouts through a pass-through behind the counter sent two waitresses trotting back and forth with steaming plates.

  When they sat down facing each other with Mario stashed quickly under the table, Sykes said, “Aren’t you hot in your coat?” Just looking at it made Sykes over-heat.

  “No.”

  Okay.

  “I don’t know what to do, or I didn’t.” David swallowed audibly. “I think I do now.”

  Sykes waited, afraid to turn off this sudden flow of words.

  “Something’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s really bad. I never felt anything like it before but I’ve been a long way from anywhere most of my life. I’m used to things being real quiet.”

  That prodded Sykes into a response. “Let’s take all that, but one at a time. Start with where you come from.”

  David smiled a little. “I must have shocked all of you. It shocked me that I came here at all, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I turned eighteen. They couldn’t keep me there anymore.”

  Sykes gave him time, but David didn’t volunteer more information. “Will you tell me about they and there?”

  “My mom and stepdad. We moved around all the time—small towns. My stepdad’s a good mechanic but he doesn’t stay sober, and we had to move on each time things got bad.”

  “Will you let them know where you are?” Sykes figured that would tell him all he needed to know about family love.

  “I don’t reckon so, not as long as he’s around. I’ll keep tabs on my mom.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve got my ways.”
/>   “Was your stepfather mean to you?”

  “Hey, handsome.” Joannie who was seventy on a good day ran her fingers through Sykes’s hair and sighed. “Do you know how many girls would give it up to have those curls.”

  Sykes smiled into her bright blue and slightly watery eyes. “You flatterer, Joannie,” he said. “What’s good?”

  “Gumbo,” she said without taking a breath. She always said that. “Sweet corn bake. Lots of eggs and shrimp. It’s all good.”

  Arlo’s didn’t run on menus apart from the chalk-board on one wall where smartass comments were as plentiful as the food items written there.

  “You want coffee?” Sykes asked David.

  “Green tea,” David said, and Joannie’s mouth dropped open until he took a bag from one of his deep pockets and put it on the table. “Just bring me boiling water, please.”

  Joannie’s thin eyebrows rose high enough to show all the creases in her turquoise eye shadow. “Got it.”

  “I’ll have toast and a boiled egg,” the boy continued. “Any fresh fruit?”

  “I think we got some raisins.”

  Sykes put a fist over his mouth. “I’ll have coffee and make it two boiled eggs with toast for me. Hold the raisins.”

  Joannie left in a hurry to share the news of the strange orders with her cronies.

  David laughed softly. “He would have said raisins were fresh fruit,” he said, apparently referring to his stepfather. “Probably maraschino cherries and olives, too—not that he bothered with refinements.”

  It was impossible not to smile with him.

  “Have you graduated high school?” Sykes said.

  “Yeah. When I was fifteen.”

  “Fifteen? A brain, huh? What have you been doing since then?”

  “Working wherever I could to save money so I could get away. I don’t kid myself it’s going to be easy, but I want to go to college.”

  And what, Sykes wondered, should he believe or disbelieve from this stranger? Other than the signs of paranormal talents.

  “First I’m going to be needed around here, though. I can do stuff. You know what I mean?”

  Sykes was afraid he did know. “You tell me.”