That Old Devil Moon

by Anne Logan

  “Alex, you’re not making sense. All I’m doing is returning the gramophone which is lawfully his.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Carla told me you think someone is following you. I suspect that whoever is following you might be the same person who killed your brother and Caroline.”

  Maddie’s heart began to beat double time, and she leaned over and switched on the lamp. “Are you telling me that now you believe me, that now you think that my brother and Caroline were murdered?”

  “Yes, and I think they were murdered because someone is after the gramophone and the receipt. Right now, I’m not sure if that someone is Ross Shaw or Bernie Keller.”

  Chills danced along Maddie’s spine as she pushed herself up, leaned against the headboard and drew her knees up close. “But why? What’s so important about the gramophone? I mean, you’ve already taken it apart and found nothing.”

  “That’s what I still have to find out, but for now, promise me you won’t keep that appointment.”

  All Maddie could seem to focus on was the possibility that Ross Shaw killed her brother…or had him killed. “If what you say is true and Shaw could be responsible, then I have to know. This is what I moved here for, and what better way to find out than by confronting him?”

  “No—Maddie, you have no idea who or what you’re dealing with here. And right now, what I don’t need is another member of the Johnson family turning up dead. I don’t have the hard evidence I need yet, and if something happened to you, there would be no way I could prove anything, no way your brother’s name could ever be cleared. This has to be handled with kid gloves. This is what I get paid for, Maddie. This is the type of thing I do.”

  Maddie’s heart sank. Alex was concerned about her safety, but not because he loved her, only because he was a cop, doing his job, trying to solve a case. “Tell you what,” she snapped angrily, “I’ll try my best not to end up dead. I’d hate to be the cause of your having to do any extra paperwork,” she added sarcastically.

  Alex tried to control the urge to put his fist through the kitchen wall. Instead, he braced his arm against the wall above the phone, and placing his head on his forearm, he tried to think of some way he could reassure her that her safety meant more to him than some damn paperwork. Yes, he was a cop and yes, he had a job to do. But dammit, he was on vacation and the only reason he was working on this case—which wasn’t his to begin with—was because of his feelings for her. “What’s the use,” he muttered. After everything that had happened between them, she wasn’t likely to believe him now.

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  He straightened and glared at the phone. “I said, what’s the use?”

  “And just what does that mean?”

  “It means that if you’re bound and determined to go, then I intend to go with you.”

  “No—”

  “There’s no use arguing, Maddie. Whether you like it or not, I’m going with you to keep that appointment. And let’s not take the gramophone. If Shaw is the murderer, I figure the best way I can insure our safety is to have the gramophone as my ace in the hole.”

  Alex had expected her to protest, but when silence filtered back over the phone line, he continued. “I’ll pick you up at Crescent Antiques tomorrow at five-thirty. And by the way, you can fire that private detective you hired. You won’t be needing him.” He hung up the phone, hoping she would wait for him to pick her up He didn’t want to think what might happen if she went to Shaw’s by herself.

  ALEX SAT straight up in bed, his heart pounding A fine sheen of sweat covered his body. In his dream, Maddie and Carla had been kidnapped by Shaw and just as Alex had gotten to them, some bizarre music had begun—almost deafening him. Just a nightmare, he told himself. Just your subconscious working overtime

  The sound was slight, the barest click, but the moment he heard it, Alex held his breath, his ears trained toward the living room where the noise had come from.

  Probably Carla getting a drink of water, he decided, as he slid out of bed noiselessly and pulled on a pair of jogging pants. Still, there was no reason he shouldn’t check it out just to make sure and there was every reason he should.

  On his way out of the room, Alex paused long enough to ease his gun out of the holster hanging on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. Listening for any unusual sounds, he quietly checked to make sure the safety was on, then slipped down the hallway.

  As he approached the entrance to the living room, he recognized the sound of the front door being opened. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins.

  He eased the safety off the gun, then he felt along the wall for the light switch until he found it. Taking a deep breath, he prayed that Carla wouldn’t blunder in at just the wrong moment.

  With a flick of his finger, he hit the light switch. “Freeze,” he shouted as he swung around the corner to stand, legs spread apart and both hands on the gun held out at arm’s length. “I’ve got a—

  “Carla,” he whispered, immediately lowering the gun and switching the safety back on.

  The door was wide open, and she was fully dressed in a black blouse, a long black skirt and black boots. She was pale with fear, and her eyes were wide with terror. Her arms were wrapped around a huge tote bag that she was clutching to her chest.

  When the realization of what could have happened hit Alex, his knees went weak and he leaned against the door frame. “What the hell is this? What do you think you’re doing?”

  Carla didn’t answer but continued staring at him with a look that he couldn’t begin to interpret.

  “I asked you a question,” he said sharply. “And I’d like some kind of answer.”

  “Out,” she finally mumbled, then a bit more belligerently, “I was going out.”

  “And just where out would you be going at this time of night. It’s got to be past midnight, and there is a curfew, you know.”

  “I was going to meet some friends at Jay’s Coffeehouse. A bunch hangs out there on Monday nights, and I knew you wouldn’t let me go “

  It was the one-shoulder shrug that cued him that she was lying. “Well, you’re right. I’m not going to let you go, so you can just march back into your room and climb back into bed.”

  With a narrow-eyed glare filled with defiance and resentment, she slammed the front door and marched toward him.

  “And Carla…”

  She paused a few steps past him and stiffly turned to face him.

  “Consider yourself grounded until you decide to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

  From the hostile expression on her face before she whirled and stomped to her room, Alex figured he was in for a real battle. It could be days before his daughter gave in and told him the truth.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ALEX GLANCED at his watch as he approached his daughter’s closed bedroom door. Five-thirty. He only had half an hour to pick up Maddie and drive uptown where Shaw lived.

  As he’d predicted, Carla had given him the silent treatment all day. And except to come out for meals which she had barely touched, she’d been holed up in her room with the stereo blasting. He’d gone in twice to turn it down, and the third time, he’d unplugged it and removed it from the room.

  Feeling as if he were about to tiptoe through a mine field, Alex raised his fist to knock on her door. Just before he knocked, he paused. He didn’t want to leave his daughter alone, sulking and angry, but there was no way he could take her with him, and there was no way he could let Maddie go to Shaw’s house alone.

  He raised his fist and rapped lightly on the door. When there was no response, he knocked again, waited a moment, then twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door.

  Carla was sitting in the middle of her bed. Spread out around her were sheets of music.

  “I have to go out for a while,” he said. When after several moments she hadn’t looked at him or even ac
knowledged that he’d spoken to her, he concentrated on keeping his voice even. “I don’t expect to be long, and I don’t want you leaving this apartment,” he said evenly. “When I get back, we’re going to have a long, heart-to-heart talk.” He still got no response, and his patience was wearing thin. “Did you hear me, Carla?” She still wouldn’t look at him, but she deigned to give a slight nod of her head. Alex turned and left the room.

  CARLA WAITED five minutes after she heard the front door click shut. When she was certain that her father had left and wasn’t coming back, she hopped off the bed. From the closet, she dragged out her packed suitcase. After she had carefully gathered together her sheet music, she shoved the stack into a side pocket of the luggage.

  Wiping away the stray tears trailing down her cheeks, she took one last look around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, then picked up her guitar and slung it over her shoulder. Dragging the suitcase behind her, she stopped at the telephone to make a call.

  Her call was answered on the second ring. “I can’t stay here any longer. Pick me up in ten minutes at the usual place,” she said. Blinking back tears, she added, “And don’t be late. I want to be gone before my father comes back.”

  “WAS HE AT HOME this time?” Maddie asked as Josephine stepped from the back entrance into the main showroom.

  The older woman shook her head. “No, and I’m really worried. He’s never taken off before without letting me know where he was going.”

  The dark circles beneath Josephine’s eyes were a testament to the older woman’s concern for her son, and Maddie felt a tug of sympathy. Josephine hadn’t heard from or seen Terry since Friday when he’d called in sick, and each time she’d dropped by his apartment, no one had been there.

  “Do you think I should file a missing person’s report?”

  Maddie patted the woman on the shoulder. “Why don’t we ask Alex when he gets here?”

  Josephine nodded. “Guess I’d better get back to checking the inventory, but thanks for covering for me.”

  “Sure,” Maddie said.

  The older woman turned away, then paused and faced Maddie again. “With Mr. Keller away and Terry missing, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been around this week.”

  “Josephine…does Mr. Keller often take off like this?”

  Josephine shrugged. “Only in the last few months. But even when he is in town, he’s in and out of the store, so I never really see him too much. He’s deeply involved in Ross Shaw’s campaign for mayor, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Maddie answered absently, her mind forging ahead to another question she wanted to ask. “One more thing. Do you remember that key you gave me, the one my brother had asked you to keep for him?”

  Josephine nodded.

  “Why have you never asked me about it?”

  “Well, I have to admit, I’ve been curious, but since you didn’t mention it, and with you being the boss and all, I figured it was none of my business.”

  ” Would it mean anything to you if I told you the key was to a storage facility, and an old gramophone and discs were what Michael had stored there?”

  Josephine frowned. “No, not really, unless—” She broke off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

  “Unless what?” she prompted.

  “Well, I never said anything before—you know—to the police when they were around asking questions, but now that you mention it, I did overhear Bernie and your brother arguing a couple of days before Michael’s death, and as I recall it had something to do with a gramophone. It seems that Michael had sold one while Bernie was away, and he wasn’t too happy about the sale.” She bit her bottom lip. “It didn’t seem that important at the time. I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “No, I’m sure it wouldn’t have made a difference,” she assured the woman. Maddie wanted to question her further, but the bell over the door jangled.

  When she glanced over to see who had come in, her heart skipped a beat. Looking even more ruggedly handsome and appealing than she remembered, Alex stepped inside.

  He spotted her immediately, but other than just the slightest darkening of his eyes, there was nothing in his expression to indicate his mood.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Maddie turned to Josephine. “Did you want to ask him about Terry?”

  Josephine’s gaze slid to Alex then back to Maddie. “He’s checking his watch,” she whispered, “and I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

  Maddie squeezed the woman’s hand. “Tell you what. On the way to our appointment, I’ll ask him for you.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up with gratitude. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “Maddie, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

  She glanced at Alex and held up her hand. “I’m coming. Just let me get my purse.”

  ROSS SHAW LIVED just off of St. Charles Avenue, and with most of the afternoon traffic already cleared out, the drive from the French Quarter took only minutes. During the drive, Maddie felt the tension between her and Alex hanging in the air like a shroud.

  But what had she expected? An apology? Inane chitchat? After all, she reminded herself, Alex was here with her for one reason and one reason only. He was a cop out to solve a case, and she would do well to keep things in perspective instead of wishing for the impossible.

  Although Shaw’s home, a small Greek revival, was not as grandiose as the huge old houses along St. Charles Avenue, Maddie was still impressed as she approached the columned portico.

  When Alex knocked on the door, Ross Shaw himself answered. He looked much thinner and shorter in person than the image that his press photos portrayed, Maddie thought. And face-to-face, he didn’t quite project the cool, confident air that she had expected in someone of his position. In fact, just the opposite, she decided, noting how he couldn’t seem to stand still, and the way he had trouble looking her straight in the eye.

  She held out her hand. “Mr. Shaw, I’m Madeline Johnson.” His handshake was brief and limp, his skin clammy, but his gaze was focused on Alex.

  Alex extended his hand. “And I’m Alex Batiste, a friend of Ms. Johnson’s.”

  With one last uncertain look at Alex, he motioned toward the foyer. “Please, come in—both of you.” He turned and stepped inside, and Maddie and Alex followed. “We’ll go to the den to talk.”

  Two of the four walls in Shaw’s den were lined with built-in bookshelves overflowing with books. There was an antique oak desk to one side of the room, and on an oriental rug that Maddie felt sure was worth a fortune, was a small sofa that faced two overstuffed chairs, all positioned cozily in front of a large marble fireplace.

  Maddie sat on the sofa and Alex settled next to her, while Shaw chose one of the chairs.

  Several uneasy seconds passed before Maddie decided to speak. “Mr. Shaw,” she said directly, “since you didn’t ask what the merchandise was that I called you about, I assume you already knew.”

  Shaw nodded. “The gramophone and discs.” His tone was flat, and he kept shifting his eyes from Maddie to Alex.

  Alex leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “We found the receipt that was made out to you and dated two days before Michael Johnson was murdered. Do you have any idea why he would have hidden the gramophone and discs away in a security facility instead of turning them over to you?”

  Shaw’s eyes widened. “Michael murdered? But I thought the police had determined he’d committed suicide…” His voice trailed away.

  “Mr. Shaw, I am a friend of Maddie’s, but I’m also a detective with the N.O.P.D.”

  Shaw jumped up from the chair and glared at Maddie. “You didn’t say anything about involving the police when you called. If I had known—”

  Alex was instantly on his feet. He held up his hands placatingly. “Now, just calm down. Maddie didn’t involve me. I involved myself. For instance, I’ve been doing a little background check on you and one of your staunch supp
orters, Bernie Keller. You and Keller go back a long way. Old fraternity brothers, I understand.”

  Shaw’s face turned a ghastly white, the shade that usually preceded nausea. Then, right before her eyes, he clutched his chest and seemed to crumple, collapsing in his chair. For a moment, Maddie wondered if the man was having a heart attack.

  “I should have known,” he whispered in a voice so low that Maddie had to strain to hear him. “Should have known we’d never get away with it.”

  Maddie’s heart began to pound, and fury, like red streaks of lightning danced behind her eyelids. “Get away with what?” she shrieked, vaulting off the sofa.

  “Maddie—” Alex grabbed her by the arm, but she was beyond hearing, beyond reasoning as she strained against his punishing grip.

  “Get away with murdering my brother and his fiancée?” she shouted angrily.

  Shaw’s eyes were wild with astonishment, and he jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “You think that I—” He shook his head violently. “No!” he cried. “You misunderstood. I would never have hurt Michael. He was my friend. He was trying to help me. If anyone killed him, it was that bastard Keller.”

  “Whoa now, both of you calm down.” Alex’s voice was firm with an authority that brooked no argument. “Sit down, Maddie.” He turned to face Shaw. “Would you care to explain here or down at the station?”

  “Here,” Shaw whispered. “Please.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “I need a drink first.”

  Shaw started to get up, but Alex pointed a finger at him. “Stay there. I’ll get it. Where and what kind?”

  Shaw motioned toward a small cabinet near the desk. “In there, and all I ever keep is bourbon.”

  Once Alex had found the bourbon and poured the drink, he quickly handed it to Shaw.

  “Thanks,” Shaw said and immediately downed half of it in one swallow.

  Alex returned to the sofa and they waited.

  Taking a deep breath, Shaw sat forward. Maddie noted that some of the color had returned to his face, and he seemed a bit calmer.