Passion In The First Degree

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Passion In The First Degree Page 16

by Carla Cassidy


  He leaned back in his chair and raked a hand through his hair. “Shelby, I’m turning myself inside out to stop those murders in the swamp, but I’m grasping at phantoms. I’ve got nothing substantial to hold on to. If you know anything you think might help, for everyone’s sake please tell me.”

  Shelby weighed the pros and cons in her head, aware that in not telling Bob what she suspected, she could be guilty of obstructing justice. “Did you know Tyler was working on the swamp murders?” she asked.

  “What do you mean, working on them? Writing about them?”

  Shelby nodded. “He’s got file after file on the murders on his laptop computer and I think it might be those files that got him killed.” She consciously made the decision not to tell him about her fragmented memory, knowing at this point she remembered nothing that could be of any real help. “Billy and I believe the swamp serpent killed Tyler and Fayrene. The best way to absolve Billy is to find the swamp serpent.”

  Bob rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze worried as it lingered on her. “Shelby, you’re in over your head. How in the hell do you expect to find a murderer who has eluded the law for over a decade?”

  “I don’t know. But at least I can work up a viable defense for Billy based on reasonable doubt. The jury needs to know Tyler was working on that murder case, and the night he met Fayrene he told somebody he thought she might have information as to the identity of the swamp serpent. It’s a little too coincidental that they were both killed that night.”

  Bob leaned forward. “Where are you getting all this information? I don’t know half of what you seem to know and I’ve got three deputies working the case.”

  “I’ll make you a deal, Bob. I’ll give you all my notes, everything I have including copies of Tyler’s files, if you do the same. I want crime scene and autopsy reports. I’d like the names of all the officers who worked on the swamp serpent murder cases. I want everything you’ve got from the first murder to the last.”

  Again their conversation ceased as the waitress appeared with their orders. “I’ll have everything ready for you first thing in the morning,” Bob said when the waitress had once again departed. “Now, let’s talk about something more pleasant. Are you going to the Whalens’ party Saturday night?”

  “I got an invitation, but I don’t think I’m going to go. With Billy’s trial less than two weeks away, I really can’t afford to take off for an entire evening.”

  “You know what they say about all work and no play.” Bob reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Seriously, Shelby, it isn’t good to work all the time.”

  “Well, well. If it isn’t my counsel and Black Bayou’s finest.”

  A coil of heat unfurled in Shelby’s stomach at the familiar deep voice. She looked up to see Billy with Parker at his side. Billy’s gaze moved from her face to where her hand was covered with Bob’s.

  Shelby fought the impulse to snatch her hand away, hating the fact that Billy could make her feel guilty about anything. Still, she was relieved when Bob reared back in his chair, breaking their physical contact. “Billy…Parker,” Bob greeted them. He smiled at Parker. “I’ll bet you’re here for some of Martha’s famous chocolate pie.”

  “No, sir.” Parker looked up at his dad as if for reassurance. “I just want a hamburger.”

  “And that’s exactly what I’m going to get you,” Billy said to his son. He started to move away, then hesitated and smiled at Shelby, a secret, knowing smile. “You look tired, Shelby. Didn’t you get enough sleep last night?”

  Shelby felt her face flame as visions of their lovemaking danced in her head. The man was wicked, definitely wicked. “Actually, I didn’t get much sleep. I had horrible nightmares all night long.”

  Billy laughed, a low, deep rumble that only increased the heat inside Shelby. “I’d better feed this hungry boy,” he replied. Saying goodbye to them both, Billy and Parker disappeared into the back room of the restaurant.

  “Nobody can fault Billy’s parenting skills,” Bob observed. “Even his harshest critics can’t help but admit he’s a good father.”

  Shelby nodded and focused on her salad in an attempt to exorcise from her mind the memory of Billy’s kiss, the searing of his touch, the fire of his possession.

  “So, that’s how it is.” Bob’s voice was quiet, thoughtful.

  “What?” Shelby looked up from her plate.

  “Billy’s more than a client to you, isn’t he?”

  Shelby twirled the straw in her iced tea. “Well, sure, he’s an old friend.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Bob laughed and shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. The few times I’ve seen you and Billy together the air positively crackles between the two of you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Shelby replied, unable to meet his gaze with hers. “Billy is a friend and a client, nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

  Shelby didn’t reply, didn’t even want to contemplate what he was saying. Instead she picked at her salad, eating but not tasting, trying to forget what Bob had just said.

  “So, you really think Tyler’s and Fayrene’s murders are connected to the swamp serpent?” Bob asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had grown between them.

  She smiled, grateful for the change in subject matter. “Why not? It makes so much more sense than Billy being responsible.”

  “You know, Shelby, my arresting Billy was nothing personal. He was the most likely suspect and Abe was eager to tie up the case.” He popped a French fry into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “The people in the swamp look up to him, listen when he speaks. With the right kind of focus, Billy could really make a difference in this town.”

  “It’s a shame anyone has to make a difference in this town,” Shelby returned.

  “Shelby, we’re making progress. Ten years ago your family would have no contact at all with the people from the swamp. Now your mother reads to the kids and your brother ministers to some of them. I know the community center doesn’t seem like much, but it’s a start, a place where people from the swamp and from town can talk, mingle, learn to accept each other as equals.”

  “I know.” Shelby sighed in frustration. She thought of Sissy, so alone, unable to share her grief with other members of Tyler’s family because of Jonathon LaJune’s prejudice. “I just find it sad that so many people have died and so few seem to care.”

  Bob smiled ruefully. “Unfortunately that’s not a problem we suffer just here in Black Bayou.” He looked at his watch and frowned. “I’ve got to get back to the station. Want me to walk you out?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll stick around until this place empties out a little. I’ve been wanting to visit with Martha.”

  “When can I expect copies of Tyler’s computer files from you?” he asked as he stood.

  “I’ll bring them by the station first thing tomorrow morning.” Shelby grinned at him. “And at the same time I’ll pick up whatever reports you can get together for me.”

  When Bob had left Shelby settled back in her chair and sipped her iced tea, trying not to think of Parker and Billy in the next room. But her thoughts refused to be schooled away from them. What would happen to Billy’s son if the worst happened and Billy went to prison? She knew Billy had no relatives. Did Fayrene? Or would Angelique take Parker?

  She stood and grabbed her tea, deciding she’d rather join them than sit alone and think about them. They were seated at the small table where she and Billy had sat the couple of times they had met here at Martha’s.

  All the other tables in the room had people seated at them. It was the first time Shelby had seen the small private room used as overflow from the main dining area. “Mind if I join you?” she asked Billy.

  “What happened to your date?” Billy asked.

  “It wasn’t a date, and he had to get back to the station.”

  Bil
ly scooted out the chair next to him so she could sit down. “How’s the hamburger?” she asked Parker.

  He smiled, a curious blend of shyness and wariness. “It’s good.”

  “Parker, Shelby is a special friend of mine,” Billy said as if to alleviate some of the child’s distrust. “If you ever need anything and you can’t find Angehque or me, you can always go to Shelby.”

  “That’s right.” Shelby watched the play of emotions on the little boy’s face and realized the child must know about his father’s arrest and what might happen. Poor baby. His mother was gone, and Shelby fought the need to pull the little boy close, hold him tight against her heart. “Parker, sweetie, if you ever just need to talk you can always talk to me,” she said.

  Billy ruffled Parker’s dark hair with one hand. “But don’t worry, son. Shelby is going to do whatever she can to make sure I stay with you always.”

  “She’s going to keep you out of jail?” Parker asked softly.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Billy replied, his gaze hot as it lingered on Shelby.

  Again she was reminded of their lovemaking the night before, how complete she had felt in his arms. “I asked Bob for all the reports he had on the swamp serpent. He’ll have them for me first thing in the morning,” she said, needing to defuse the sexual tension between them and get back on a professional footing.

  “I’d like to go over them with you. I don’t know, maybe I’ll be able to see something you can’t, a pattern, a clue…something.” Billy leaned toward her. “Did you know that before Tyler went to The Edge, he ate dinner here that night? And he didn’t eat alone.”

  Shelby scooted forward on her chair. “Who’d he eat with? Fayrene?” she asked softly, hoping Parker was too involved in his meal to concern himself with adult conversation.

  Billy shook his head. “Your sister.”

  “Olivia?” Shelby looked at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s what Martha told me. She said they ate together and left together.”

  “Does Bob know about it?”

  “I imagine he does. He probably dismissed it as unimportant. After all, what could she possibly have to do with Tyler’s and Fayrene’s deaths?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t understand why Olivia hasn’t mentioned this to me.” Shelby frowned, ugly suppositions running through her head. Was it possible Tyler had said something to Olivia and Olivia had passed that information to somebody else…perhaps Big John?

  “Dad, can I have another soda?”

  The childish voice pulled Shelby from her thoughts. As Billy got up to get Parker another drink, she smiled at the little boy. “You enjoying your summer, Parker?” she asked.

  He nodded. “’Cept Angelique has me doing schoolwork all the time. Next year I’ll go to school in town.” He chewed a French fry, his gaze unwavering on Shelby. “You gonna make sure my daddy doesn’t go to jail?”

  “I’m going to try my best.”

  “You got any kids?” Parker asked.

  Shelby shook her head. “I don’t even have a husband.”

  Parker picked up another French fry. “My dad doesn’t have a wife. Maybe you guys could get married and I could be your kid.”

  Shelby’s heart twisted as she recognized the hunger in Parker’s words. It was the hunger of a child for a family. Shelby knew it well, knew that even within the confines of her own family she had suffered the same kind of hunger. “Parker, I’m just your daddy’s lawyer, but I’m sure someday he’ll find a wonderful woman to marry and you’ll all be a happy family.”

  “Here you are, Parker,” Billy said as he set a tall soda in front of his son.

  Shelby stood, suddenly needing to be away from Billy’s evocative presence and Parker’s sweet need. “I’d better get moving. There’s a lot of things I need to get done this afternoon.”

  “You’re getting reports from Bob in the morning?” Shelby nodded and Billy continued. “Then why don’t you meet me at the shanty as soon as you have them and we’ll start going over them together.” Although his words said one thing, his gaze implied another. His words said they would work on the reports, his dark, heated eyes spoke of a morning spent beneath navy sheets and a ceiling fan whispering against bare flesh.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, then turned and left the small dining room. And tomorrow they would discuss how foolish it had been for her to allow their relationship to be anything other than lawyer and client.

  She was grateful to see that most of the lunch rush crowd had left and Martha sat at the end of the counter, enjoying a cup of coffee and a piece of her own home-baked pie. Shelby slid onto the stool next to her. “Hey, Martha, got a few minutes?”

  “Sure, honey. What do you need?”

  “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

  Martha grinned. “As long as you don’t want to ask me my age or my weight.”

  “Marguerite Boujoulais worked for you before she was killed, right?”

  Martha’s smile immediately fell and sadness filled her dark eyes. “Ah, yes, Marguerite worked here for almost a year before she died. She was one of my best waitresses, sassy and full of life and so beautiful.” Martha took a sip of her coffee and shook her head. “So sad when somebody so full of life has that stolen from her.”

  “Did you ever see her with my father?” Shelby asked, unsure how this fit into the murders, but curious nevertheless. She realized now that her home, just like the town, had been filled with secrets.

  “Why do you ask?” Martha didn’t quite meet her gaze.

  “Because I think my father had an affair with Marguerite.”

  “What if he did? Ancient history. Marguerite has been dead for years. What difference does it make if your daddy had a thing with her or not?”

  Shelby frowned, realizing Martha was right. What difference did it make if her father had a fling or not? How on earth could that tie in to the swamp serpent murders? “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I’ll see you later.” Wearily she arose from the stool and left the restaurant.

  Stepping out into the afternoon heat, she wondered what she was doing, why it suddenly seemed so important that she glean all the secrets her family possessed. Was she trying to find clues to a murderer, or was she trying to piece together a portrait of a family she could understand?

  Her father might have had an affair, and Olivia had had dinner with Tyler on the night he was murdered. What did it mean? Pieces…that’s all she had, and she didn’t even know if they fit at all into the puzzle of Fayrene’s and Tyler’s or the swamp murders.

  She got into her car and waited for the air-conditioning to cool the interior. As she waited, she once again thought of Billy and how easily his gaze had stirred her. It had been a mistake to sleep with him again. By repeating the lovemaking she had hoped to dispel his power over her, diminish the memory that had haunted her for years. But in making love to Billy again she hadn’t dispelled anything. She’d only given herself more haunting.

  As she drove home she decided it couldn’t happen again. She couldn’t allow Billy to seduce her into wanting him again. Professionally, sleeping with him had been a mistake. Personally, it had been even worse because she knew now she was in danger of falling in love with Billy. And that was something she’d sworn she would never, ever do.

  Pulling in to the driveway, she saw Michael pulling out. He waved as he passed, and she returned the gesture. He’d probably stopped by for lunch and was on his way back to his rectory. She wished she’d arrived earlier and gotten a chance to visit with him. She never tired of Michael’s company.

  When Shelby entered the house, she immediately saw Olivia sitting in the living room, a magazine opened on her lap. “Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to,” Shelby said as she sat down next to her sister.

  “What’s up?” Olivia closed the magazine and looked at Shelby curiously.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had dinner with Tyler on the n
ight he was killed?” Shelby asked, trying to keep any accusation from her voice.

  Olivia shrugged. “Oh, that. Because there was nothing to tell. Tyler and I ran into each other at Martha’s. We decided to sit together because we were both alone. We ate, then we left. I came home and I don’t know where he went.”

  “While you were eating, did he mention where he was going or what his plans were after dinner?”

  “No, we mostly just gossiped.” Olivia smiled and smoothed an eyebrow with a finger. “Being on the social scene for the paper, Tyler always had the best gossip.”

  “Did you discuss the swamp serpent murders?”

  “We might have touched on it, but I don’t remember anything specific.” Olivia shivered slightly. “Why is all this so important? It makes me ill to think that a few hours after I dined with him, he was stabbed to death.” Olivia sighed impatiently. “Surely you aren’t still hung up on this idea that somehow the swamp murders and Tyler’s are related?”

  “The only thing I’m hung up on is finding out the truth.”

  Olivia leaned forward and smiled. “Are you sleeping with him yet?” She laughed. “Oh, I can tell by the look on your face that you are. Oh, that Billy, he’s a slick one. Who else would seduce his lawyer and muddle the issue of his own guilt by tying in an old set of murders? He must be good to have you believing in his innocence. But tell me this, Shelby, would you believe him innocent if you weren’t sleeping with him?”

  Olivia’s laughter followed Shelby up the stairs to her room. Once inside, Shelby sank down at the desk, her thoughts whirling in confusion.

  Was she a fool to believe in Billy’s innocence? Did Fayrene’s and Tyler’s murders have nothing to do with the swamp serpent? Were Billy’s hungry gazes, searing kisses and seductive manner solely an effort to keep her on his side no matter what the evidence might show?

 

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