In Search of Truth
Page 18
Zack patted the dog’s head. “The restaurant won’t mind? Or do they love having a pin-up celebrity as a guest?”
She hit him in the chest. She’d explained the whole Nicholas Trott and Mrs. Pickles have their own calendar situation, but he’d laughed so hard she wasn’t sure he’d even heard her. “The owner loves Nicholas Trott. Last year, when the owner was having trouble with mimes—”
“Mimes?” He covered his eyes with one hand. “You’re kidding.”
She took his arm and led him inside. “I was walking by with Nicholas Trott, and one of the mimes, a former student of mine, was trying to order dinner. I stopped to see if I could help, and he let Nicholas Trott order dinner for them all. They spent a fortune. Ever since, Nicholas Trott has been known as the top menu picker in Charleston. He’s even been written up in the restaurant magazines.”
“I don’t think I can stop laughing,” Zack said as they walked onto the second-floor porch.
She tugged his arm and whispered, “Please try. I don’t want anyone to notice me.”
Luckily, no one was paying attention, and she let out a grateful sigh. The reprieve from stares and whispers gave her a chance to peruse the crowd.
Zack wrapped an arm around her waist. “If I didn’t mention it earlier, you look lovely.”
“Thanks.” He had mentioned that a few times since they’d left her house, but she didn’t mind hearing it again.
After leaving Pink House, they’d gone home so she could change. While Zack walked the dog, she put the apotropaic marks into the gun safe. Then she’d changed into a navy silk dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline, sheer cap sleeves, and a flowy skirt in varying shades of darker blue and black chiffon. She hadn’t been sure what to wear, but Vivienne’s advice about dressing well was true.
Vivienne Beaumont was a woman of the world who’d navigated multiple husbands, built many businesses, and lived with an outlook that took no prisoners and suffered no fools. She also owned upscale, invitation-only salons for discriminating clients. Salon being a discreet code word for brothel.
Zack hadn’t changed his clothes, but she didn’t mind. Jeans worn out in all the right places topped with a dark green T-shirt suited him perfectly.
They stepped aside as a waiter appeared with a tray of cheese biscuits. Oak trees on either side of the building shaded the wide porch overlooking the enclosed patio and fountain below. Tiny lights encircled the balustrades while overhead fans provided a breeze. The bar had been placed at one end while Lawrence held court at the other.
Zack rubbed her lower back. “We should greet our host.”
Allison groaned.
They made their way toward Lawrence, who sat at a table with a beer. One by one, the people Lawrence had been talking to disappeared.
“Hello, Lawrence.” Allison didn’t hold out her hand. “And before you ask, I don’t have any more news about the fire. Although I did give the insurance agent your number.”
Lawrence scowled but then stood and straightened his jacket before shaking Zack’s hand. “We met yesterday. But I didn’t realize you’re Vivienne Beaumont’s godson. That also makes you the grandson of the governor of Louisiana, doesn’t it?”
“Former governor,” Zack said. “We’re going to greet my godmother now. We’ll see you later.”
Before Lawrence could speak again, Zack took Allison’s hand and pulled her toward the other end of the porch. More people filled the area, most of whom Allison knew. She hoped they could make their social rounds and leave before the meal was served.
When Zack said, “Nénaine,” Vivienne turned with a wide smile. Although Allison hadn’t seen Zack in seven years, she saw Vivienne whenever she was in town. As usual, she was the loveliest woman in the room.
In a gold dress and with her silver hair piled elegantly on top of her head, she shone like the sun and the moon. “Zachariah. Are jeans, T-shirts, and boots the only clothes you own? Couldn’t you have worn your dress blue uniform? Or are you saving that for the service?”
His arm muscles tightened beneath her fingers and his nostrils flared. Instead of correcting his godmother, he kissed her on the cheek. “I told you I had nothing to change into.”
She shook her head, kissed Allison’s cheek, and then tapped Zack’s arm. “Tell me, Zachariah. What’s this business of you leaving the army to live above a gym in Savannah? Why would you do such a thing? Is it as gross and filthy as it sounds?”
“The gym is temporary, Nénaine. Until I figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Maddie and Susan crossed the threshold and came onto the porch. Susan, wearing a backpack decorated with a puppy’s face and her hair in a long braid, ran over to the bartender to ask for a Shirley Temple. Maddie gave Allison a hug. Then Maddie greeted Vivienne. Maddie—through her parents who were from old Charleston families—knew almost everyone in town.
“What are you and Susan doing here?” Allison asked.
“Vivienne commanded us,” Maddie said with a smile as a waiter handed her a club soda.
“Nonsense.” Vivienne offered a graceful wave. “It was a simple request. I knew Allison would want you here.”
“Thank you, Vivienne,” Allison said, trying to ignore Zack’s exasperated sigh.
“My, my.” Vivienne looked over the balcony. Susan had taken her drink downstairs to the courtyard below the porch. Now she sat at a table near the fountain, sipping her soda and reading a book. She’d moved Nicholas Trott’s leash so he could lie at her feet. “Susan is quite the young lady now.”
“She’s almost eight,” Maddie said as she sipped her club soda.
Vivienne allowed a small frown to crease her forehead. “Susan isn’t still working on that ghost report, is she? That seems very dull for a young girl.”
“According to Susan,” Maddie said, “ghosts and pirates were interesting people.”
“What about treasures, Vivienne?” Allison asked. “Have you ever heard of Henry Avery’s treasure?”
“Of course I’ve heard of it,” Vivienne said. “How else do you think Henry was allowed to live in Charleston under a false identity while Nicholas Trott—the attorney general, not the dog—hanged pirates up and down the East Coast?”
“Huh.” Zack frowned. “You think Henry paid off the local officials with his treasure?”
Even Vivienne’s shrug was elegant. “That’s what I’d do.”
Allison noticed a boy around Susan’s age throwing rocks at Nicholas Trott. Then she nudged Maddie.
Allison handed her drink to Zack and took Maddie’s arm. “We’ll be right back.”
* * *
Zack watched Allison and Maddie leave until Vivienne tapped him on the arm. He could smell the bergamot notes of her favorite perfume: Chanel No. 5. Even the slightest whiff sent him straight back to his childhood. Although he and Emilie had been loved, they’d been alone.
“Zachariah, how is Allison doing?”
“Her husband is dead, Nénaine. She’s grieving. You, more than most, should know how that feels.”
“I’ve no doubt she’ll recover. She’s a towering woman.”
“What does that mean?”
Vivienne pressed one hand against her chest. “Grief doesn’t ask, or wait, or cajole, or bargain. It hits hard and fast. Grief has a way of knocking you down, then demanding you rise taller than you were before. I’ve no doubt Allison will come out stronger for it. So much so that when the next round of grief appears—and it always does if one lives a full, rich life—she’ll handle it with even more grace and dignity.”
Zack stared into his glass. That was lovely.
“Zachariah, can I assume you’ll be properly dressed for Friday’s service?”
He was about to ask why she always fussed about his clothes when he decided not to argue with her. “
I’ll try.”
Vivienne stared at him for a long moment before peering over the railing to watch Allison and Maddie sit with Susan. “Does Allison know about Stuart’s affair with Isabel?”
“Yes.” Zack studied his godmother’s profile. “How do you know?”
“Last year Stuart and Isabel attended one of my salons here in Charleston.”
“You didn’t say anything to Allison?”
Vivienne raised a delicate eyebrow. “If I break confidences, my business is over.”
Because Vivienne’s business wasn’t actually about sex. It’d always been about the buying and selling of information.
Zack pulled out the photo and handed it to her. “Do you know the other man?”
Her lips thinned. “Isabel brought him as her guest.”
“I don’t understand.” Zack tried to keep the accusation out of his voice. “You select those who come to your salons, the women and the men. Yet you didn’t know him?”
She waved a hand as if swishing away the question. “He came with Isabel.”
He slipped the photo into his back pocket. “Nénaine, do you know Remiel Marigny?”
Vivienne wiped her lips with a white cocktail napkin. Her red lipstick left a stain on the paper. “I’ve never met the man.”
“But you’ve heard of him.”
Vivienne offered a single nod.
Seriously. Dealing with Vivienne was like talking to a teenager. “What do you know?”
“Very little,” Vivienne said. “His family is from New Orleans. Although he has people in Savannah.”
“Did you know Isabel works for Remiel?”
“No.”
And for the first time in his life, Zack didn’t believe her. What—or who—was she protecting? Or frightened of?
“If you’ll excuse me, I want to pay my respects to Lawrence.” Vivienne left on a perfume-scented breeze.
Zack stared into the courtyard where Susan sat with Maddie and Allison. Nicholas Trott hopped on Susan’s lap, and a man stood off to the side watching the women.
“Dammit.” Zack hurried down the stairs to meet Alex.
* * *
Alex paused near the oak tree protecting the entrance to Husk’s courtyard and focused on the table near the fountain.
Susan sat between Maddie and Allison, and Nicholas Trott jumped off the little girl’s lap to sleep beneath the table. Alex had only come because this was where he was supposed to meet Isabel. Although the thought of dealing with Isabel again made him feel dirty, seeing Maddie filled his chest with a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.
Maddie wore a green halter dress and her hair down, curling over her bare shoulders. She’d pinned a sparkly brooch to the bottom of her V neckline, which brought attention to her full breasts.
He glanced at his black T-shirt, jeans, and black combat boots. He owned nothing. Had nothing. Was nothing. He’d once slept with women like Isabel and had tried to kill another man. He had no right to go over to Maddie, talk to her, or even look at her. And…he had his meeting with his brother to worry about.
Good thing he didn’t care about any of that.
He halted in front of the table, and all three women looked up at him.
Susan was the only one who offered him a smile. “Hi, Mr. Mitchell!”
Allison stood and offered him her chair. “You can sit here if you want. I need to find Zack.” Then she nodded toward Maddie. “Will you be staying for lunch?”
“No,” Maddie said. “I’ll offer my condolences and go home.”
Allison kissed Susan on the head and left.
Alex moved closer but didn’t sit. Since Maddie used a hand to cover her face from the glare, he moved until he stood between her and the sun.
It was so pathetic that the best he could offer her was shade.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Mitchell?”
“Passing by.”
“I’m so glad.” Susan slurped her drink through a straw. “Would you like a soda?”
Maddie took Susan’s glass and placed it on the table. “I’m sure Mr. Mitchell has better things to do than talk to us.”
“Actually,” Alex said, “I’d love a soda.”
“I’ll go ask!” Susan jumped up and ran toward the restaurant. As she passed the fountain, she turned back to him. “What kind?”
“Ginger ale, please.”
Maddie stood. “What are you really doing here?”
“Like I said—”
“I know you weren’t just passing by.” She nodded toward Zack, who was coming toward them, his stride a study in earnestness and intention. “And I know you weren’t one of Stuart’s college buddies. Stuart never mentioned you.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
She leaned in close enough for him to smell her light floral perfume. “Who are you?”
No one. He took a step back just as Zack arrived.
“Everything okay?” Zack’s gaze bounced between the two of them.
“Sure.” Alex ran a hand over his shorn head. “Got a minute?”
Zack looked up at the balcony, where Susan was talking to the bartender. “Yes.”
Maddie grabbed Susan’s book. “Excuse me. I need to talk to Lawrence before we leave.”
When she entered the restaurant, Zack hit him on the arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Come on.” Alex left the courtyard and slipped into the alley next to the restaurant. “Have you heard from Rafe? Any information about Emilie?”
“Rafe is still checking into it. But he has no new info.”
Alex leaned his shoulder against the wall and stared at the cobblestones below his feet. “There’s something else. Nate called me a few minutes ago.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Nate, probably through Rafe, learned about the Fianna having Emilie.”
“Fuck.” Zack ran one hand over his head. “Was Nate pissed?”
“Oh yeah. Nate told me to tell you that if you don’t call him within the hour, he’s going to tell Kells.”
Chapter 21
Allison was determined to say her goodbyes. The restaurant upstairs was full. With the talking, laughing, and music, the event reeked of a wedding instead of a funeral.
Although Zack’s idea of coming to get more information had been a good one, there was no one here she wanted to talk to. No one here, that she knew of, who’d been close to Stuart.
She elbowed her way onto the porch until she found Lawrence talking to…Isabel. They had their heads together, laughing. Allison didn’t flinch when someone stepped on her toes. Her throat closed up, and her sinuses felt hot and tender. A man jostled her, and she stumbled against the railing. Both Lawrence and Isabel looked over.
Isabel touched the brooch pinned to her dress and smirked.
Allison made it into the dining room but had to wait for waiters carrying trays to pass. The air in the room had reached an unbearable temp because the humidity coming in through the open balcony doors had burned up the AC. Between the heat, the crowds of people she didn’t know, and the scent of sandalwood, she felt light-headed.
She needed fresh air and…Zack.
Someone jerked her arm, and she turned to find Isabel holding her elbow.
“We need to talk,” Isabel said. “I know Stuart took the appendix out of the witch’s examination. That means he hid it and I think you know where.”
Allison pulled herself free. “I know who you work for. And that means despite the fact you were sleeping with Stuart, you knew Remiel was going to torture and kill him.”
Isabel backed up a step. To her credit, her face paled. “I didn’t—”
“Remiel wanted Stuart dead, and you allowed it.”
“Lower your voice.” Isabel took Allison’s arm again and yanked her behind a
fern. “There’s something you need to know about your lover. Zack isn’t the man you believe him to be.”
Again, Allison freed herself. But now she was stuck between the plant, Isabel, and the wall. “I don’t—”
“If you know about Remiel, then you also know about the Seventh Special Forces group’s mission in Afghanistan. The one where two A teams were ambushed.”
Allison nodded to make this conversation end more quickly.
“The A teams were sent to a POW camp—”
“Run by Remiel.”
“And two commanders were singled out.”
“So?”
“So, one wasn’t leading his own team. He was leading Zack’s team. Zack chose not to lead his men that night. Zack chose to deal with a personal issue. A female issue. When he returned, his best friends—his team—had been captured. They remained in that POW camp for two years. Zack is nothing but a coward.”
Allison gritted her teeth. “That’s absurd. Zack is the bravest man I know.”
Isabel smiled and played with her brooch. “Why don’t you ask him? Maybe that’s why, seven years ago, the Prince asked Zack to change careers.”
“I’m done listening to your lies.” Allison forced her way through a group of men and found the stairs amid the low whispers of “That’s the widow,” “It’s so tragic,” “Did you know Stuart was having an affair with Isabel?”
Allison made it halfway down the stairs when she bumped into Zack coming up.
“Hey.” He took her arms and steadied her. “What’s wrong?”
“Leave. Now.”
Zack’s face hardened and Allison noticed Isabel on the top step, watching them. “Come on.”
He took her hand and led her into the courtyard. They retrieved Nicholas Trott from under the table where Susan had been sitting.
Zack’s phone buzzed, and he dug it out of his pocket. “It’s my buddy Nate.”
She took Nicholas Trott’s leash and nodded toward the restaurant next door. “I’ll wait in the Poogan’s Porch garden. It’s quieter.”
He touched her cheek gently. “I’ll be there soon.”
She tried to ignore the heat that shot through her every time he touched her and left Husk’s patio. Poogan’s Porch Restaurant had a front garden instead of a courtyard, and after talking to the hostess who’d been in her Intro to Folklore class last spring, she sat on a porch bench. Shaded by trees surrounding the building, she relaxed, appreciating the cooler air. A fan above her head kept the bugs away. The hostess brought out a water bowl for Nicholas Trott and a glass for her.