by Meryl Sawyer
“Then why did you have Troy Conway falsify the forensic accountant’s report?”
“What report? I didn’t have Troy do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His father was so genuinely shocked that Jake had no choice but to believe him. Suddenly, he felt as old and as tired as his father looked. This whole mess was a can of worms. It was impossible to tell what was going on.
CHAPTER 29
Alyssa sat with Aunt Thee in the courtyard of the town house. Her aunt was weak, but she’d insisted on having lunch outside where she could enjoy the spring air. Soon it would be too hot to eat outdoors.
“Gordon took me aside last night and talked to me,” Alyssa said, still unable to call him “father.”
“Really? What did he have to say for himself?”
“He claims he’s proud of me.”
“Well, he should be.” Aunt Thee took a small bite of the ham sandwich Alyssa had made. “You’re a wonderful person, not to mention being an international star on the jewelry scene.”
“Costume jewelry. A few people know me, true—”
“Give yourself credit. You’re a name in those circles. With Jake’s backing, you’ll become a household word.”
When Aunt Thee was on a roll, there was no arguing with her. She had absolute faith in Alyssa’s talent, and to her credit, she always had. From the moment Aunt Thee had whisked Alyssa away from New Orleans, and Alyssa had shown her the few pieces of jewelry she’d made for herself, Aunt Thee had encouraged her.
“Is that all dear Gordon had to say?”
“No. He wanted me to talk to Phoebe. He really wants us to be friends.”
Aunt Thee put down her sandwich. “Do you seriously believe that’s possible?”
“Maybe I’m being naïve, but I’d like to think so. We’re half-sisters. Why should we be enemies?”
Aunt Thee shook her head as if baffled by her niece’s stupidity. “Don’t trust her. Not for one minute. She convinced everyone you’d kidnapped her baby and threw it into the bayou. I’m in the hospital and another baby vanishes in much the same way—casting more blame on you. Phoebe’s responsible. She’s jealous of you. She’ll stop at nothing.”
“You may be right. I did talk to her last night after Gordon insisted. She seemed to have come to terms with our situation. She says she’s divorcing Clay and starting over. I think … I hope, she wants to put the past behind us.”
“That’ll be the day.”
Alyssa respected Aunt Thee’s business acumen, but her aunt had met Phoebe only a few times. She didn’t know her and had no idea how difficult life in the LeCroix house had been. Hattie emotionally abused everyone—especially Phoebe.
“I’m going to give Phoebe a chance.”
Aunt Thee’s expression said: You’ll regret it.
Alyssa changed the subject to one she knew would have her aunt’s approval. “Jake’s coming to dinner tonight. Actually, he’s bringing dinner from Emeril’s.”
Emeril Lagasse was New Orleans’ premier chef who had his own nationally syndicated television show. His restaurant, Emeril’s, was the toast of the city, but Alyssa knew this wouldn’t impress her aunt. Thee was more taken with Jake.
“I can hardly wait,” Aunt Thee told her. “Considering you didn’t come home last night, I suspect this is a serious relationship.”
She couldn’t lie to the one person who truly loved her. “I’m very interested in Jake. I can’t speak for him.”
“I can. I’m an excellent judge of character. Jake is going to be the father of your children. I’m going to be a grandmother before I go to my great reward.”
Alyssa felt the heat creeping up her neck. She couldn’t be blushing; she never blushed. Yet the way she’d made love to Jake last night made her want to blush.
She managed to say, “It’s a little early to be planning on grandchildren. We hardly know each other. This could turn out to be nothing.”
The buzzer to the front gate sounded and Alyssa stood up, saved from having to answer another personal question. She opened the gate and found two policemen standing there.
“Alyssa Rossi?”
“Yes,” she responded with a dizzying awareness something terrible was about to happen.
“You’re under arrest for murder.”
Jake had left his father’s home, shaken, yet determined. This was a mess worthy of a soap opera, but he thought he knew how to fix it. Well, maybe. It all depended on how much Max really cared about him.
It was difficult to find a parking place in Faubourg Marigny where Troy Chevalier had rented a restored Creole cottage. The hip area was adjacent to the French Quarter and not far from Thee’s town house. As soon as Jake had spoken to Troy, he could go talk to Alyssa. He’d left a message earlier saying he’d spoken with Sanchez and was coming over to tell her about it. He needed to fit together a few more pieces of the puzzle before he attempted to explain this predicament.
Jake decided Troy had chosen this area because of its bohemian atmosphere and its French name. The man idolized all things French. With his wealthy family living in Paris, Jake was surprised Troy had stayed at TriTech for as long as he had.
What he hadn’t expected was Troy’s betrayal. It seemed totally out of character for someone so proud of his family, his education. Go figure. Jake was a piss-poor judge of people. Even though he and Troy had worked together closely for years, Jake realized he knew little about the man’s personal life.
If Max hadn’t persuaded Troy to alter the report, who had? Clay Duvall? Possibly. He had the most to lose, and he certainly hadn’t been happy to learn Duvall Imports’ accounting was being moved in-house.
He finally shoehorned his Porsche into a parking place near one of the nightclubs that drew people to the area after dark. He walked toward the river where Troy lived and spotted a Lucky Dog on the corner. Just seeing the giant hot dog-shaped cart made his stomach rumble. He stopped for a hot dog and ate it while he continued down the block to Troy’s cottage.
“Let’s hope he’s home,” Jake muttered to himself.
Jake rang the bell, and the door immediately swung open. Troy had the widest, most enthusiastic smile Jake had ever seen. His face crumbled as if someone had punched him in the gut when he saw Jake.
“I was expecting someone else,” Troy said.
“Go on. You can’t mean it.”
“Come in.” Troy gestured toward the inside of the cottage. “Is something wrong?”
“What would be wrong?” Jake walked inside and was not surprised to see the living room was furnished with French antiques.
“Last night you left the party early.” He motioned toward a love seat and a pair of chairs. “You’ve never come over, so I assume this is very important.”
Jake sat in one of the chairs and waited until Troy took a seat before speaking. He wanted to look him right in the eye when he questioned him. Troy sat on the love seat opposite Jake and smoothed back his receding blond hair. If he was nervous, it didn’t show.
Jake came right to the point. “I want to know why you falsified the Overton and Overton report.”
A shadow of alarm touched Troy’s face, and his dark eyes darted around the room as if looking for a way to escape. “You know.”
“Answer the damn question. Why? How much were you paid?”
“Paid? I wouldn’t take money.” Two deep lines of worry appeared between his brows. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life.”
Jake cursed himself for believing him. “Then why did you do it?”
“A … friend needed help. I planned to tell you about it soon.”
“Before or after you left for Paris?”
“Paris?” Troy responded as if Jake was speaking in tongues.
“You reserved two first-class tickets to Paris.”
“Oh … yes … well. I haven’t had a vacation in several years. I—”
“Cut the bullshit. Who persuaded you to doctor the report?”
Troy rose slowly and walked across the cottage to a set of windows looking out onto a small courtyard. “I did it to help Phoebe Duvall.”
Jake sucked in a quick breath of utter astonishment. He heard himself gasp, “Phoebe?”
Troy shuffled back to the love seat and plopped down, his eyes on Jake. “Yes. She’s been having terrible problems with Clay. She’s going to divorce him, but if the value of Duvall Imports falls, she won’t get the settlement she deserves. You see, she put all the money from her trust fund into Clay’s company.”
“Phoebe’s leaving Clay for you?”
“Yes. Obviously, you find it hard to believe.”
This sucked. Troy actually sounded insulted when Jake was the one who had the right to be royally pissed off. Jake cautioned himself not to lose his temper. “No. You’re worth ten of Clay Duvall. I just didn’t realize you knew Phoebe so well.”
“We met during the negotiations to buy Duvall Imports.”
Is this great, or what? Troy had attended all the meetings and several dinners. Of course, he’d met Phoebe. She’d come on to every man. Why not Troy?
“Phoebe visited my parents when she was in Paris.”
Now Jake got it. Phoebe had fallen—not for Troy—but for his wealthy parents’ lifestyle.
“She’d like to live there, and I’d like to go home.” Troy spread his hands wide as if this explained everything. “As soon as Phoebe’s divorce is final, we’ll get married.”
It took a leap of faith to envision Troy and Phoebe and a lifetime of wedded bliss, but there you go. Life was proving to be a helluva lot stranger than he would ever have imagined.
“Congratulations.” He fought the urge to kick his sorry butt around the room. How could a man with so much talent fall for Phoebe? “Explain what you see in her.”
“She needs me.” Troy gazed at Jake, his expression earnest. “You see, women that beautiful are never … approachable. Phoebe’s different. Without help, she’s lost.”
Puh-leeze. Was Phoebe good, or what? She’d managed to convince two intelligent men—Troy and Max—to do her dirty work. Who knew how many others there had been?
She must be dynamite in bed—or something. She’d always struck Jake as being a little off. Why didn’t they see it?
Then he got it. Live and learn. Troy and Max were basically insecure men, and Phoebe played to their low self-esteem. She made them feel powerful and protective.
With Max it was more obvious. His craving for social acceptance had bothered Jake from the very first. He hadn’t understood why his father would care. Troy had been less noticeable. His wealthy family and superior education appeared to have given him all the self-confidence in the world, but beneath the thin veneer was an insecure man.
What had attracted Jake to Alyssa was her independent nature. From their first meeting, he’d noticed she had a power and depth to her that other women lacked. She hadn’t played the beautiful woman card on him—far from it. She’d all but told him to kiss off.
He’d always been drawn to confident, self-reliant women. Like his mother. Aw, hell. The psychobabble bullshit couldn’t be right, could it? Did everything start and end with your parents?
Troy interrupted his thoughts. “I knew there was a good chance you’d catch me. You’re a lot smarter than you think. You don’t need me. Phoebe does.”
“Don’t start.”
“I mean it. You’re just like Max. You have a natural gift for business.”
“And here I was just telling myself that I’m like my mother.”
“You’re going to find this hard to believe—”
Jake shook his head, saying, “No, I’m not. I’ve heard just about everything in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Phoebe’s life has been hell.”
“Could have fooled me.”
Troy jumped to his feet. “Know what your problem is? You’ve got a wiseass remark about everything. The more serious something is, the more likely you are to come up with some outrageous remark.”
“You’ve got a point,” Jake conceded.
Troy blinked a few times as if he couldn’t quite believe what Jake had said. He sat down again, adding, “Clay has made Phoebe miserable. He’s had a mistress for the last few years. You saw her last night. She was wearing feathers.”
“I noticed her.” He’d met the bombshell at Max’s party but couldn’t recall her name.
“Not only has Clay been seeing her, but Clay’s been having sex with her and some Bahamian psychic.”
Sounds like a party. Not that he went in for a ménage à trois, but many people must. They were featured on soft porn movies available in most hotel rooms. Okay, so he’d watched a few, but he’d never been tempted to try it himself.
“Phoebe’s afraid she’ll get some dreadful disease.”
“You can’t say enough for safe sex.”
The words had slipped out. Troy shot him a disgusted looked, then sagged back against the sofa. “What are you going to do to me?”
Jake resisted the urge to warn him that living with Phoebe would be punishment enough. Now was the time to press for the truth.
“Did Phoebe arrange to have the second baby taken?”
“Of course not,” snapped Troy. “Why would she?”
“Revenge.”
“No way. Phoebe is leaving all this behind. Alyssa doesn’t bother her anymore.”
Don’t bet on it.
“Are you going to file charges against me?” Troy asked.
“No. You’ve worked harder than I’ve had any right to expect. Brief Spencer on your projects, then let’s go our separate ways.”
Jake rose to go, but a knock on the front door stopped him.
Troy jumped up. “It’s Phoebe.”
Can you believe it? This was his lucky day. He waited for Troy to answer the door, prepared to escape and leave the lovebirds alone. Two men were on the porch, not Phoebe. One of them flipped open his wallet to show them a New Orleans police badge.
“Mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?”
“No, of course not. Come in.” Troy looked at Jake with stony brown eyes.
“I don’t know anything about this,” Jake whispered.
The detectives asked him to identify himself. When he did, they merely nodded, apparently recognizing his name.
“When was the last time you saw Phoebe Duvall?”
In a heartbeat the remaining color leached from Troy’s already pale face. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid Mrs. Duvall is dead.”
“Dead? How?” Troy swayed toward Jake, and Jake put his hand on his shoulder.
“She was murdered.”
Troy staggered to the couch and dropped down. “No! No! That’s impossible. She’s coming here in a few minutes.”
The detectives looked at each other. Jake motioned for them to sit down. They all found seats while Troy stared, unseeing, at the ceiling fan.
“What happened?” Jake asked.
“This morning the Carreres’ maid discovered Mrs. Duvall’s body in the downstairs study. We haven’t established an exact time of death, but it appears she was killed during the Vampire Ball last night.”
“We’re trying to find out who saw her and when,” added the second detective.
The bottom dropped out of Jake’s stomach. Alyssa had been in the study with Phoebe last night. Not that he thought Alyssa had killed her, but considering their past troubles, Alyssa would be high on the list of suspects.
“Why wasn’t the body discovered earlier?” Jake asked.
“The family went to bed upstairs after the party. It wasn’t until the maid began cleaning up this morning that she discovered the study was locked from the inside. She thought one of the guests must have locked it and gone out the French doors to the garden. She came around to unlock the door and discovered the body.”
Jake remembered trying the door when he was searching for Alyssa, and it had been locked. He decided
to keep this to himself for the time being.
“The last time I saw Phoebe was before dinner was served.” Troy’s voice was husky as if he were holding back tears. “She was on her way downstairs to talk to Clay. He wouldn’t accept the fact she wanted a divorce. When she didn’t return, I assumed she was upset and went back to her parents’ house.”
“They thought she’d gone to her own home. That’s why she wasn’t missed.” The detective made a note on is pad. “Why didn’t you contact her there?”
“I tried her cell phone, but didn’t get an answer. I assumed the battery had died. Her parents don’t know about our relationship, so I didn’t want to chance calling the house. Since we’d already made arrangements to spend today here, I didn’t do anything else.”
“Did you see Mrs. Duvall after dinner last night?” one of the detectives asked Jake.
“No. I just saw her briefly when I first arrived.” He saw no reason to tell them about Alyssa’s talk with Phoebe until he’d had time to warn her.
“Would either of you have any idea where we could find Clay Duvall?”
“I do.” Troy perked up. “He probably spent the night at Maree Winston’s apartment.”
CHAPTER 30
“Thank God,” Aunt Thee said the instant Jake walked into the town house. “I’ve been trying to find you.”
Jake didn’t have to ask why. From the moment the police had told them Phoebe had been murdered, he’d known Alyssa would be a prime suspect. “I left my pager at home. I just heard about Phoebe.”
“They’ve arrested Alyssa.” Aunt Thee’s lined face conveyed frantic desperation. She was on the chaise in the living room propped up by pillows.
Shawn was at her side, appearing very anxious. Small wonder. The elegant home looked more like a frat house after a trashing by a rival fraternity.
“It happened just a little over two hours ago,” the nurse said. “The police had a search warrant. They turned the house inside out.”
“They took Alyssa’s laptop with all her designs on it,” her aunt said.
“I overheard one of the detectives saying they’d found the gun,” Shawn told him.