by Sharon Wray
“Ex-husband. And how did you know my daddy put Rafe’s name on my deeds?”
Miss Beatrice took a chain from around her neck and handed it to Juliet. It held a brass key. “We’re the ones who recommended it.”
Rafe tightened his hold. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done, but smashing the Limoges teacups seemed like a place to start. “I don’t understand how my daddy knew Rafe would come home.”
“Because he had faith,” Miss Nell said. “Something you need a bit more of.”
Rafe squeezed Juliet’s shoulder as if knowing she was about to start throwing things. “Did you ever hear about a vial Anne supposedly owned?”
The sisters shared a look before Miss Beatrice said, “Call Sarah. I’ll text you her number.”
Juliet and Rafe shared an exasperated sigh.
When the maid appeared, Miss Nell said, “Escort Rafe and his bride to the guesthouse. Then bring in Mr. Delacroix when he arrives.”
Miss Beatrice touched Juliet’s arm. “You do know Mr. Delacroix is buying Prideaux House? Maybe you’d like to talk to him about the garden?”
“I’m already working on a bid for the redesign.”
“Good. We’ll add our recommendation.”
Rafe’s voice exploded. “What’s up with the women of this city selling their property?”
“There’s no need to raise your voice, Rafe Montfort,” Miss Nell said as the maid led them away. “Juliet, show your husband our garden. It’s so romantic.”
* * *
Rafe had put up with many things while working for the Prince—lies, beatings, torture—suffering for the good of the brotherhood. But he resented being manipulated.
“Can you believe my lily is poisonous?” Juliet whispered as they left. “Or that the sisters never told me about my daddy’s trunk?”
Rafe’s hand rested on her lower back. “I don’t know what to believe. And I think we need to be careful with who we trust. No matter how sweet they seem to be.”
For all their gentility, the sisters hadn’t become wealthy just through inheritance and marrying well. They were sharks. Prideaux House and the Habersham Mansion were the second- and third-largest homes in the historic district, after Calum’s.
“I agree.” Juliet glanced at him. “If the story of Anne’s poison is true, do you think that’s what’s in the vial you’re looking for?”
Sweat beaded his neck. “Anything’s possible.”
“Can you tell me why you have to find this vial? Or who wants it?”
“I don’t know why. And I can’t tell you who.”
She sighed. “I just have to trust you?”
He studied her lowered head as they left the patio and entered a brick-walled garden that filled a city block. “Yes.”
She nodded, and he ached to know her thoughts. He was asking a lot, and she had no reason to trust him. The fact that she was, even reluctantly, spoke to her strength and courage.
He followed her to a Pan fountain in the center of the garden with boxwood-lined paths running in spokes. Flowers and blooming trees stood in perfect symmetry. Scents of gardenia mingled with roses filled his lungs. He took her hand, and she didn’t pull away.
Inside the guesthouse, they found the trunk beneath a window. She knelt and inserted the key. Musty air escaped, and they laid the contents on the floor. They organized stacks of oversized folders and a white dress wrapped in linen and, on the bottom, found a duffel bag loaded with enough guns and ammo to arm the Georgia militia.
Rafe lifted the heavy duffel and moved it out of the way. Although Juliet didn’t seem interested in the arsenal Gerald had left her, they’d probably need it.
She sat on the floor, and he moved until their shoulders touched. The folders held architectural plans for Capel Manor. As Juliet studied the designs, he noticed an envelope marked with the name Juliet.
She opened it. “It’s a copy of a detailed map of the Cemetery of Lost Children and the surrounding land.”
Delicate leaves interspersed with swords, fish, and Juliet’s lilies had been drawn within the margins, reminding him of a medieval text. He pointed to the photocopied image of a ragged edge and a cut-off compass rose. “The original must’ve been old. Maybe seventeenth-century. And it was torn.”
“What are those numbers and letters written along the top?”
The ink was faint, but he could make out a partial alphanumeric sequence that had been cut off with the compass rose. “I have no idea.”
She stood and smoothed out her skirt. “If there were documents about my lily and anything pertaining to Anne Capel, they’re gone.”
Rafe refolded the map, placed it in the envelope, and put it in his jacket pocket. “Maybe Sarah has them.”
Juliet rubbed her fist along her forehead. “There’s no information here. And there’s still so much we don’t know. Like why my daddy put your name on my deeds.”
Rafe stood and took her hands. They were freezing. “Or how Gerald knew I was coming home.”
“It was Gerald’s idea to extradite Rafe, and Senator Eugene Wilkins agreed to do the work,” Miss Nell said from the doorway.
Juliet drew away from him as Miss Nell entered, holding an accordion file. “Why would my daddy want Rafe free?”
Miss Nell cupped Juliet’s face with one hand. “My dear, you’ve had so much sadness in your life. Your momma dying when you were a baby. Your daddy being a man who knew he couldn’t be a good father. He was looking out for you.”
“By finding my ex-husband? By killing himself?”
“Gerald knew Rafe would protect you with his life.” Miss Nell looked at Rafe. “Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Although Rafe and Gerald had had a difficult relationship, they’d always had concern for Juliet’s safety in common. “That’s what you and Miss Beatrice were talking about when we arrived. You were arguing about whether to tell Juliet the truth.”
“The truth about what?” Juliet demanded.
Rafe touched her shoulder. “Gerald was murdered.”
Miss Nell pressed a birdlike hand against her chest. “We believe so, yes.”
Juliet sank onto the edge of the bed. “What?”
Miss Nell handed Rafe the file and sat next to her. “The last year of Gerald’s life, something frightened him terribly. He was terrified on your behalf and begged Eugene to bring Rafe home. Then Gerald asked us to help sort out the history of the Isle and the story about Anne Capel. After Eugene’s and Detective Legare’s deaths, we recommended that Gerald put Rafe’s names on the deeds to Capel land. Whatever was happening, it was happening on that land. And we thought adding Rafe’s name would give you another layer of protection.”
Juliet frowned, and Rafe took her hand.
“Gerald’s actions,” Rafe said, “no matter how old-fashioned, don’t account for his suicide.”
Miss Nell nodded. “Beatrice and I believe the same person killed Eugene, Detective Legare, and Gerald. We just don’t know why. Or what Gerald was so frightened of that he’d seek Rafe’s extradition and our help to study the history of Anne Capel.”
Rafe swallowed before opening the accordion file on the bed.
“What are they?” Juliet asked Miss Nell.
“Tess’s photographs. Since Pops and Gerald never got along, she gave them to us for safekeeping, not long before her death. Beatrice and I thought it was time to give them to you.”
Rafe laid out his momma’s photos, all of them exquisite, and chose one of Juliet in a white sundress sitting at the end of a dock in the back meadow. Through the hazy glaze of floating dandelion seeds and humidity, her bare feet splashed the water, her hair hung to her waist. He remembered this. It was her fifteenth birthday. Even though he’d always adored her, it was the moment he realized she was the only woman he’d ever love. He’d been nineteen, and it was
the day he started keeping count. He married her four years later.
Juliet sifted through others while he found a wedding photo. They were leaving the church, laughing. He clutched her free hand while her other held a bouquet of white gardenias, pink roses, and lavender.
“Miss Nell,” Juliet said softly, “what was Eugene looking for the day he died?”
“Your lily. He thought if he could find one and have it analyzed, maybe he could prove Anne’s innocence.”
“Anne died over three hundred years ago,” Rafe said. “Why does her story matter?”
“It mattered to Gerald, and he believed it would matter to Juliet. When he came to us for help—which was an extraordinary act in and of itself—we said yes.”
“You all were working on this together?” Juliet asked. “You, Miss Beatrice, Eugene, and my daddy?”
Miss Nell nodded. “When Eugene died, Calum joined our little group. And Sarah has been doing some research for us.”
Rafe stacked the photos. “Why do you think Gerald didn’t kill himself?”
“Gerald wasn’t a coward. Beatrice and I believe the three men were murdered looking for the secret behind Juliet’s lily. Calum believes it too.”
Rafe’s phone rang. It was Pete. “I have to take this.”
Juliet nodded. “I’ll pack up the photos. Can I get the trunk later?”
“Yes,” Miss Nell said. “Rafe, you can take the call in the garden. I want to show Juliet the dress Gerald saved for her. It was her momma’s wedding gown.”
Juliet wiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “I’d love to see it.”
Once outside, Rafe answered, “What’s up?”
“A new problem.”
After Pete finished, Rafe sat on a bench. The scent of roses he’d savored earlier now burned his nose. “Fuck.”
“The word of the day,” Pete said. “What do we do?”
“Let Calum know we’ll be there soon.”
“And Nate? He’s at the gym.”
“Tell Nate to stay put. I don’t want him near Garza.” Rafe shut his phone and went to get his father-in-law’s arsenal. That probably had become a definitely.
Chapter 20
Juliet went under the yellow police tape, with Rafe behind her, and entered Rage of Angels. Police cars, ambulances, and cops surrounded the club. A kid in a hoodie hovered.
She and Rafe stepped aside as men wearing coroner jumpsuits pushed a gurney.
It was true. Rafe’s hand pressed her lower back, and they went into the locker room. The warmth from his touch eased the tightness in her body. She appreciated the support as she took in the destruction. Bent lockers lay on their sides. Upside-down chairs leaned against broken mirrors. Glass crunched beneath shoes. Blood stained the floor.
Last night she hadn’t understood the force of Rafe’s anger, but today she was grateful. As confident as she was in her own strength to survive, Deke was physically stronger. If Rafe hadn’t appeared, Deke would’ve raped her.
She inhaled, exhaled, and met her next challenge of the day.
Detective Garza stood in a circle with Pete, Calum, and Samantha and said, “I’d like to speak to Jade. A witness said she’d been beaten last night by a suspect.”
Juliet swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and said, “I’m Jade.”
Calum came over and kissed her cheek. “Hello, beautiful.”
Samantha hugged Juliet. Garza’s face shifted from assessment to astonishment to anger. Not that Juliet blamed him. Last night she’d lied when he asked what’d happened. And now that he knew the truth, she could only wonder what he thought of her.
“Is it true?” Juliet asked Samantha. “Is Sally dead?”
Samantha pulled away, wiping her cheeks with her palms. “Yes.”
Garza cleared his throat. His friendliness from yesterday was gone. “Sally’s body was found behind the Dumpster in the alley. A stripper named Marylou ID’d the body.” Garza motioned to Calum. “The body was left near a tag of the Prioleau sigil.”
Calum took out his phone and started texting. “Could it have been a heroin death?”
“No,” Garza said. “Sally was murdered. Near your family’s crest.”
“One has nothing to do with the other. My mark is near every building I own. Although it looks like graffiti, I assure you it’s not.”
“With respect, Mr. Prioleau, you don’t seem surprised to find a body on your property.”
Calum nodded as if expecting the question. “Like many women, Savannah is lovely and gracious during the day, but when the sun goes down, her demons appear.”
“That’s dark.” Garza’s voice reeked of sarcasm.
Rafe picked up two chairs so Juliet and Samantha could sit.
“Do you have any idea who did this?” Juliet asked.
“Possibly.” Garza held up an evidence bag with a cell phone. “We found this. It belongs to Deke Hammond. Marylou said Deke is the manager.”
They all nodded.
Garza put the cell into his coat pocket. “When was the last time any of you saw Sally?”
“Before I went on break at eleven,” Juliet said.
“On a pole around ten forty-five,” Rafe said.
“Samantha and I saw her at midnight,” Pete said. “After her last shift ended.”
Garza picked up his notebook and pen from the dressing table. “What do you know about Deke Hammond?”
Pete shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black combat pants. His lip piercings glinted. “Deke is the club’s manager who also runs two side businesses. One with women. The other with drugs. But Sally wasn’t a prostitute, and she didn’t use.”
Garza wrote while he talked. “You don’t think this is Deke’s work?”
“No,” Pete said. “Deke is an asshole, but Sally was making him money. His money stream is something he didn’t screw with.”
“Yet last night,” Garza shifted his focus to Juliet, “he attacked you.”
Juliet raised her chin. “I refused Deke so he tried to rape me. Rafe stopped him.”
Now Garza looked at Rafe. “How, exactly, did you stop him?”
“I hit him.”
Juliet glanced at Rafe’s hands, but they were in his jacket pockets.
“Did Deke need medical attention?” Garza asked Rafe.
“No.”
“What time did Deke leave?”
“Between eleven forty-five p.m. and one a.m.,” Pete said.
“You’re not sure?”
“It was a crazy night,” Pete said. “I left Deke in my office to keep him away from the women who wanted to pound him. When I returned, Deke had disappeared.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
“Didn’t have time.”
“Uh-huh.” Garza kept writing. “Do each of you have people who can vouch for your whereabouts the entire night?”
“Sure,” Pete said. “Bartenders. Dancers. Patrons. I closed the bar at two a.m. Samantha and I were the last ones to leave.”
Samantha squeezed Juliet’s hand and nodded.
“I need to speak to Deke,” Garza said. “Any idea where he is?”
“No.” Pete paused. “But I have his address.”
Calum looked up from his phone. “The club is closed.”
“Great,” Pete muttered.
Samantha laid her head on Juliet’s shoulder. Juliet could smell her friend’s honey-infused shampoo and feel her erratic breathing. She knew how much Samantha needed this job, and Juliet prayed she could save her own business and give her friend a raise.
Garza pointed to the cameras in the hallway. “The security tapes?”
“There aren’t any,” Pete said. “The cameras inside the club are live-feed only. The dancers don’t want their moves on the internet.”
“Not working.”
“Not surprised,” Garza muttered.
Calum cleared his throat. “Do you have a time of death?”
“After midnight.” Garza tapped his pen on his notebook. “No one saw Deke leave?”
The four shook their heads in unison.
“That’s enough questions, Detective,” Calum said.
Garza scoffed. “According to Marylou, Rafe beat up Deke so badly his face looked like he’d been crushed by a dump truck.”
Juliet bit her lip, hating the fact that she hoped the description was true.
“If you find him,” Rafe said, “you can see for yourself.”
“I will.” Garza’s gaze drifted to Juliet. “Could Deke be your store’s vandal?”
“No,” Juliet said. “I haven’t worked here in nine months and only did so last night to help pay back my loan. The loan I told you about. Could Sally’s death be connected to the death on the Isle?”
“Possibly,” Garza said.
“Dammit,” Rafe said harshly. “Stop throwing around veiled accusations and tell us your theory.”
Garza moved into Rafe’s personal space. “I believe someone killed Sally to send a message to you.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow.
“And,” Garza continued, “I want to know every move you made last night until now.”
“Rafe was with me all night,” Juliet said. “He slept…nearby. Just in case.”
“The entire night?” Garza kept his voice level, but harsh undertones leaked out.
“Yep,” Rafe said.
She wasn’t sure if it was Rafe’s careless attitude or the confidence rolling off his muscled frame like paint fumes, but Garza’s face had turned red and sweat striped his neck.
“Detective?” Calum spoke casually, as if they were at tea instead of an interrogation. “Do you have evidence supporting your supposition?”
“I do. After studying Sally’s body and the body of the man killed yesterday, as well as speaking with my military contact, I believe Sally was murdered by a man with a tattoo of a sword piercing a heart, the mark of the Fianna.” Garza stared at Rafe. “And the only Fianna warrior I know of is you.”