Читать книгу Behind the Mask - Joanna Wayne - Страница 8

Lindsey stared out the window as she’d done for the past two hours, studying each house, each identifying detail, with the eye of a practiced researcher. She’d been so sure she would recognize the house and the window. But her memories were clouded by the sights and sounds of a Mardi Gras parade.

Everything looked different in the stark light of day. Houses that had appeared magical in the soft glow of artificial lighting now showed signs of cracked and fading paint. Cozy porches and balconies alive with eager spectators were now lonely and imposing. Except for the few stray beads that dangled haphazardly from barren tree limbs and whitewashed porch railings, there was no way to tell that the Krewe of Minerva had ever passed this way.

Maybe she wouldn’t know the house at all. They had passed several with turrets and rounded windows that swung open, but nothing about them had reached out to her. There was always something missing. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that something was. Only that it had been in the picture last night and wasn’t there today.

Graham pulled the unmarked police car to the curb and slowed to a dead stop. He reached for the parade guide and opened it again to the map of the route Minerva had followed last night.

“We’ve been down St. Charles twice, Lindsey. I say we break for lunch. We’re getting nowhere with this. Besides, that last police report confirmed the earlier one. No bodies of blondes found. No young women admitted to the hospital with dagger wounds. Not even a missing-persons report that fits your description.”

Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, she glared out the window. There was nothing to back up her claim, and now she couldn’t even locate the house. A truce of sorts had existed between Graham and her ever since they had left the hospital, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“So, do you want to stop for lunch, or can I drop you off somewhere?”

“Not yet, Graham,” she insisted. “Let’s try once more. And drive slowly. The neutral ground, the trees, even the houses, look right. But something’s different.”

He shook his head in annoyance and spun the car around, heading back up the street.

Lindsey resumed her searching. The house couldn’t have moved overnight. She tried to peer through the tree branches, imagining how things had looked from her perch above the crowd.

“Stop here! In front of the brown brick!”

Graham pulled off the street and parked at the beginning of the driveway. “We studied this house earlier. You said it couldn’t be, that it wasn’t quite right,” he reminded her, his irritation no longer masked.

She jumped from the car, letting the door slam behind her. Graham followed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She ignored him, walking under and past a towering tree, her eyes following the lines of the house, beyond the wraparound balcony on the second floor, to the third-level turret. Her breath caught. This was the image haunting her mind. The perfect couple in an imperfect frame.

“This is the house.”

“You’re sure?”

“Dead sure.” She shuddered at her choice of words. “It was the angle. That’s why I didn’t recognize it before. See? The top of the right shutter is broken off. It was hidden by the tree when we were riding in the car, but from here you can see it clearly, just like I saw it last night.”

“You never mentioned a shutter before.”

“No, I’d forgotten about it. Or maybe it had never registered, except in my mind’s eye.”

“Of course. How could I forget? That photographic memory of yours let you ace every test in high school, while I struggled for Cs.”

Lindsey walked ahead of him, scrutinizing every detail of the house. It stretched out in all directions, almost Gothic in appearance. Vines of ivy climbed the steep walls, and untrimmed branches hung low around the windows.

A sudden gust of wind stirred, chilling her to the bone. But it was more than the temperature that raised goose bumps on her flesh. It was the cold feeling of doom. She took a deep breath and started up the walk.

“Hold on, Lindsey. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t just knock on the door and ask them if they happened to notice any bodies lying around. I’m a detective. These people have rights.”

“Fine. You’re a cop. I’m not. So just get back in your car and you won’t have to worry about your little policeman rules.”

Lindsey took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Graham was a few feet behind her, glaring threateningly. But this was the house. She was sure of it. She walked to the door and pressed her finger firmly against the cold bronze button. By the time the melodic chimes finished their performance, Graham was right behind her.

“Looks like no one’s home,” he offered in the long silence that followed.

Lindsey eyed him suspiciously. “Your relief is obvious. So why did you come to the hospital to question me in the first place, if you had no intention of following up on my story?”

Stepping back, he leaned his muscular frame against the brick column that bordered the steps. He smiled, the same devastating smile she remembered. But something was different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Oh, I intend to follow up, all right. And if there is a murderer, I’ll catch him. You can count on it. But when I get started, I’ll do it the right way.”

She turned back to the door and gave the bell a final attempt. All was quiet. But not still. The curtain at the front window inched sideways.

“And it looks like you’re about to get started,” she quipped.

Graham shot a penetrating look in her direction and stepped in front of her. “Lucky me.”

The door opened slowly, and a tall, thin woman peeked around the edge. She wasn’t old, no more than forty-five or so, but streaks of gray dulled her dark hair, and deep lines had already formed around her mouth and beneath her eyes. The furrows in her brow deepened when Graham presented his badge and an introduction.

“I hope we’re not disturbing you too much, ma’am. I just need to talk to you a minute.”

“What is it, Officer?”

“Just a couple of questions. Someone reported a disturbance in this area last night.”

“You can come in, for a minute. But I doubt if I can be much help. I work here five days a week, but I wasn’t here last night.” A New Orleans accent flavored the woman’s voice.

She motioned them into the massive foyer with a wave of her hand. “My name’s Ruby Oleander. Most people just call me Miss Ruby.”

Graham stepped back to let Lindsey enter in front of him. “And how about the owners of the house? Are they in?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“No. They’re out of the country. In Rome. They have been for three weeks,” she explained, ushering them into the formal living room.

Lindsey took a seat beside the window and listened as Graham proceeded with the questioning, his easy manner quickly putting the suspicious housekeeper at ease.

She had worked for the LeBlancs for twenty years, Miss Ruby explained. And no doubt the LeBlancs could afford to pay her well for her services, Lindsey noted as she studied the opulent surroundings. It was no wonder Miss Ruby took her job as caretaker of the estate so seriously.

The house was furnished in antiques. Authentic, unless she missed her guess. Lindsey’s gaze followed the lines of the marble fireplace down to the hardwood floors that were covered with well-worn but exquisite Persian rugs. It was like visiting a living museum, even down to the smells of age and lingering cigarette smoke.

The place screamed money. No, not screamed, bespoke—elegantly. Apparently old money. Uptown at its finest. The same type of homes many of her high school friends had lived in. But not the way she had lived. Her dad epitomized the flashiness of new wealth. He liked life on the cutting edge, everything new and thoroughly modern.

Lindsey shifted her weight and tried to get comfortable on a period chair designed for women who had nothing more stressful to do than needlepoint.

“This must have been a great place to watch the Minerva parade from,” Graham commented, his tone as relaxed and friendly as if he were chatting with an old friend. “I heard it was impressive for a new krewe. What did you think of it?”

He was pretty smooth. Lindsey would have to give him that. She would have just plunged in herself, demanding to know who was in the house last night. Of course, Miss Ruby would probably have shut up like a clam.

“I didn’t see the parade.”

Miss Ruby’s tone cooled considerably as she responded curtly to Graham’s question and then shut up like a clam. So much for smooth.

Graham flashed her his most dazzling smile. “I didn’t see it, either. Not much of a paradegoer myself. I heard it was nice, though.”

“There’s really nothing I can tell you about last night,” Miss Ruby offered, regaining her composure quickly and sliding back into her friendly-housekeeper role. “You’ll have to ask one of the other neighbors. This house was empty last night, locked up tight.”

Lindsey squirmed about in the chair, determined to keep her mouth shut, even if it killed her. Her agitation did not go unnoticed.

“Could I get you some coffee? Or perhaps a cup of tea, Miss—?”

“Yes, some coffee would be nice.” Lindsey nodded appreciatively at the woman, but decided against providing her name. Especially with Graham intensifying that “keep quiet” look he’d been shooting her way ever since they’d stepped inside the door.

“And you, Detective Dufour?”

“No, nothing for me.”

Lindsey waited until Miss Ruby left the room, then moved over to the couch beside Graham. “The woman’s an expert liar,” she whispered. “That story about no one being here last night. Pure fabrication. And she told it with a straight face.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. There were people here. At least two, and one of them didn’t leave the house alive.”

“Try to stay calm, Lindsey. I’ll handle this. I don’t want you getting all upset.”

His eyes bored into hers, and for a second she could have sworn there was more there than just casual concern. She pulled away and moved back to her chair.

“Doctor’s orders,” he added. “Benson said he was holding me personally responsible for your well-being today. And I don’t need any more trouble.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Lindsey answered. “I can take care of myself, remember?” But she smothered any further protests. Miss Ruby’s feet were already padding back down the carpeted hallway.

The woman reentered the room slowly, bearing an impressive silver tray laden with two delicate china cups and saucers and a pot of steaming coffee.

“I brought sugar and cream, but I have artificial sweetener in the kitchen, if you prefer. You don’t look as if you need it, though,” the housekeeper offered, easing the tray onto the marble-topped table by Lindsey’s chair. She filled one cup and then looked Lindsey in the eye. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Green. Officer Green,” Graham supplied quickly.

Lindsey stirred the lump of sugar she had dropped into her coffee with renewed vigor, attempting to hide her surprise. As far as she could see, there was no possible reason to lie about her identity or to hide the fact that she’d witnessed a murder. She was perfectly willing to testify, to do whatever it took to bring the ruthless killer to justice.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Detective?” Miss Ruby asked, lifting the other cup and tipping it in his direction. “It’s fresh.”

“No, none for me, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Officer Green and I took a walk through the house. You know, check things out for you.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Detective.”

“Probably not, but like I told you earlier, there was a report by one of the parade watchers of some kind of unusual disturbance around here last night. Of course, it could be a mistake, but if someone did break in here... Well, you know, you just can’t be too careful these days.”

“They were mistaken,” Miss Ruby retorted indignantly. “If someone had been in the house last night, I would know it. You can be sure of that.”

For once, Lindsey believed her. The housekeeper didn’t miss much. It was a safe bet the woman knew that someone had been in the house. And she probably knew a lot more. Like who and why. But Graham wasn’t going to get it out of her. Not with that polite little questioning method he was using. It probably worked on some people, but Miss Ruby was far too astute for that.

“Nonetheless, we’d like to look around,” Lindsey insisted, ignoring Graham’s warning look. “What possible harm could it do? Unless, of course, you have something to hide.”

She regretted those last words as soon as they left her mouth, especially when she watched Miss Ruby’s guarded smile cool to a frigid frown.

“Do you have a search warrant?”

The words were issued as a challenge. Lindsey stiffened her back and silently returned the woman’s stare. She wasn’t sure what game Miss Ruby was playing, but she wasn’t about to be intimidated. Not by someone heartless enough to hide information about a murder. With a slow, deliberate movement, she placed her cup on the tray.

“No, no warrant,” Graham was assuring the housekeeper. “And there’s no reason for me to get one at this time. It was just my concern for your safety that prompted my request to check out the house.”

“I understand, and I appreciate it. But I don’t think Mr. LeBlanc would like for anyone, even a nice detective like yourself, to go wandering through his home. He values his privacy.”

“And exactly when did you say the LeBlancs would be returning from Rome?” Lindsey asked, not willing to give up without foraging out every detail she could.

“On Monday. At least Mrs. LeBlanc will. In time for the Mardi Gras hoopla. Hordes of people crowding into the streets, blocking the drives, trashing the yards. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to come back for that, but Mrs. LeBlanc loves it. Her costume ball is one of the highlights of the social calendar.”

Graham stood up and walked toward the window, his gaze traveling about the room as he moved, seeming to look at everything at once. “That balcony out there... It looks like the perfect place to catch a parade or two. Your friends and family must pester you all the time to bring them over during Mardi Gras. Especially when the LeBlancs are out of town.”

“No. Not at all. My friends know that I would never violate my employers’ trust by invading their property.”

There it was again, Lindsey noted. The same iciness that had edged her tone when she asked about the warrant. There were two sides to this woman. And one was coolly calculating.

“Sounds like the LeBlancs are pretty lucky to have you taking care of things for them. And I appreciate your taking time out to talk with us,” Graham answered.

Lindsey seethed silently. A murder had taken place in this very house, probably just above where they were sitting right now. And all Graham planned to do was waste time in meaningless conversation.

He left his post at the window and made his way back to the door. Reluctantly Lindsey followed his lead. She didn’t have a lot of choice. As much as she’d like to butt in, to pursue the questioning further, she’d seen enough movies to know that Graham was right. Improper search and questioning could blow a case right out of the courts. And she wanted the murderous soldier caught and punished, not freed on a technicality.

“Thank you for talking with us, Miss Ruby. If we have any further questions, we’ll get back to you. Or to the LeBlancs, when they return.”

“And thanks for the coffee,” Lindsey added, trying to manage some of the fake friendliness Graham seemed so good at.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“You’ve helped more than you know,” Graham assured her pleasantly.

You will be a lot more help, Lindsey wanted to add, as soon as we return with the search warrant.

Graham stepped outside and all but pulled Lindsey out with him. His stride was long and purposeful, and she had to run to keep up with him.

“‘Unless you have something to hide,’” he muttered, opening the car door on the passenger side. “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you just ask her if she had a dead body upstairs? It would have been about as obvious!”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s no body upstairs. Not now. But there would have been if you and your fellow officers had investigated the crime hours ago, when I first tried to report it.”

“Don’t change the subject. You were out of line in there, Lindsey, and you damn well know it. I’m the police officer in charge. I’m the one who’s supposed to do the talking.”

Lindsey pulled herself into the car and slammed the door behind her. Could she help it if she was more efficient than the cops? “So while you’re doing the talking, how about explaining that ‘Officer Green’ routine?” she demanded as Graham opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.

“I’ll explain it, all right. It was a mistake, a big one. But it was the best excuse for having you tagging along with me I could think of on the spur of the moment. I had to do something to shut you up before you blurted out the whole story about why you were really there.”

“So what if I had? I have nothing to hide. I’m the witness, not the criminal.”

Graham reached for the black notebook stashed behind the visor. He scribbled furiously for a few minutes, then placed the notebook on the seat beside him as he started the car.

“Okay, Lindsey,” he offered, pulling the gear into reverse and backing out into the heavy traffic. “For the sake of argument, let’s say everything happened exactly the way you say.”

“Okay, for the sake of argument.”

“This is my case, and you’re my number one witness.”

“Your only witness.”

“All right. My only witness. So I say we make a bargain. I’m willing to buy your story, even though there’s no body, no motive and no suspect. We can’t even prove we’re at the right house.”

“You have my word.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m climbing out on a dead limb. But now you’ve got to trust me to handle the investigation. My way. Without your help, unless I ask for it.”

Lindsey stared straight ahead. Graham’s way or no way. Like it had always been. Why should she expect anything different? She’d trusted him once before. Ten years ago. He’d repaid her trust with betrayal. But matters of the heart were quite different from police work. Besides, she didn’t have any alternative now. She’d be catching a Sunday-night flight back to Nashville.

“Okay, Graham. We’ll do it your way.”

“Great.”

He eased up to a red light and slowed to a stop. He turned to face her, and Lindsey could all but feel his nearness. She looked away. There was nothing between them, and it had to stay that way. He hadn’t changed in any way that mattered.

“I don’t want to frighten you, Lins.”

Lins. The nickname rolled off his tongue like an endearment. Just the way it used to. Oh, God, was it always going to be like this? One minute, she had the past buried away where it belonged, the next, something as simple as a nickname turned her insides to a quivering mass. She directed her gaze straight ahead, at the bumper of the blue Buick in front of them.

“I’m sorry I got so rough with you back there.” His voice was smooth, but insistent. “But this is not a game we’re playing. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but until I am, I don’t want you to tell anyone else what you saw.”

The light turned green, but still he didn’t move.

“Promise me, Lins. No one else is to know that you’re the one who witnessed the crime. You’ve told too many people already.”

His hand squeezed hers, and behind them a horn honked impatiently.

“I promise,” she answered, “at least for now. But I’m willing to testify, Graham. I’m not afraid.”

He dropped her hand and eased his unmarked car across the intersection. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” he answered huskily. “But I am.”

* * *

THE FRENCH QUARTER on Sunday morning. Lindsey stopped for a minute, letting its magic wash over her. It was exactly as she remembered it, a wonderland of sights, sounds and tantalizing odors. She slowed her pace to a crawl as she neared the entrance to St. Louis Cathedral, marveling at the white structure that watched over Jackson Square like a kingly ruler.

It would have been only a short walk from her hotel to the Court of Two Sisters, where she was meeting the gang for brunch. Too short. That was why she’d taken the long way around, through the street musicians, mimes and sidewalk artists who breathed life into Jackson Square.

It was early for this part of the city, not quite eleven, but the tourists in town for the carnival were already out in droves.

“Paint your face, miss? Only five dollars. A special price for a pretty lady.”

Lindsey smiled at the thin young man who’d spoken, but declined his offer. A little lipstick and a touch of blush were plenty of paint for her. She crossed over the narrow street to peek in the window of La Madeleine.

She couldn’t resist a glimpse of the fresh-baked breads and pastries that filled the shelves at the bakery. The door opened, and a group of laughing tourists walked out, holding the door open long enough for Lindsey to catch the aroma of strong French coffee.

New Orleans, the Crescent City, the town where anything goes. Friday night, she’d had a taste of everything bad about the city. Today, she was experiencing the excitement of everything good. She stopped for a minute and watched a laughing clown bend and twist a couple of balloons into a floppy-eared puppy and hand it to a wide-eyed tyke. Smiling, she hurried on to meet her friends. God, she’d missed this city.

She’d loved New Orleans from the day they moved into town, just a week before her fifteenth birthday. She’d hoped against hope that for once her dad would resist the urge to open a new branch of his mining and drilling company in some foreign country. Prayed that for once he would stay in one location long enough for her to make real friends.

And she’d gotten her wish. They’d stayed four years. Long enough for her to graduate from Dominican High. Long enough for her to meet, and fall head over heels for, the handsome and popular Graham Dufour.

Graham was a big part of the reason she’d loved the city. And he was the real reason she’d stayed away for so long. She might not admit it to anyone else, but she could at least be honest with herself. Coming back to New Orleans always meant the possibility of running into Graham. And now that she had, she knew she’d been wise in staying away.

Lindsey stepped around a crack in the sidewalk and then walked through the open door into the busy restaurant. Strains of a lively jazz tune floated down the brick hallway as she squeezed past groups of patrons waiting for a table. Stretching her neck to see over the balloons that decorated the patio, she spotted Danielle and Brigit at a table near the fountain.

“About time you made it. We’re already on our second mimosa,” Brigit said.

“Good. You two have all the champagne you want, but I’m taking my orange juice straight. After Friday night, I don’t mind if I never have champagne again.”

“Party pooper,” Brigit said mockingly, scooting over to another chair and motioning Lindsey into the chair between them. “You need to sit by Danielle. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s letting that rat of a husband move back in.”

Lindsey took the chair between the two, but not because she was in any shape to do marriage counseling. She’d already had more than enough emotional upheaval for one weekend. Fortunately Grace Ann and the rest of the entourage rounded the corner, and a new series of hugs and excited chatter began.

Finally they managed to halt the gossip long enough to help themselves to plates of steaming seafood omelets, oversize portions of grits and grillades and mouth-watering eggs Benedict.

“How do you people stay so thin?” Lindsey asked, finishing the last boiled shrimp on her plate.

“Who’s thin?” Emily asked, patting her stomach, which now had stretched to support the new life growing inside it.

“Chasing kids will keep you from getting fat,” Grace Ann added, pulling out pictures of her latest.

“Oh, how adorable!” Brigit exclaimed, oohing and aahing over the photographs.

“So, when are you taking the plunge?” Angela asked Brigit teasingly. “If you’d settle down with one man, you could have one of those adorable babies of your own.”

“As soon as I meet the right man.”

“What about that hunk you were with at the Minerva Ball?” Emily asked. “The man looked like a keeper to me.”

“He’s nice, but the bells didn’t ring. Besides, he can’t afford me.”

“Money isn’t everything, Brigit. But hang in there for the bells. Love may not make the world go around, but it sure makes the bedroom a lot more fun.”

“Tell me about it, Grace Ann. You and Michael looked like brand-new lovers at the ball the other night,” Angela said. “It was hard to believe you’re the parents of two toddlers.”

“I have news, too,” Beth announced, breaking into the banter. “But not in the kids or lovers department. I’m going back to the university next year. I’ve decided to work on my Ph.D.”

A round of exuberant cheers and hugs followed her announcement. Lindsey sat back and listened, letting the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. Ten years without a reunion with her friends had been much too long. Everyone had so much to share.

She smiled as Danielle set a bowl of bread pudding drenched in rum sauce and a cup of café au lait in front of her.

“Eat up. The lady over there said it was delicious.”

Lindsey looked in the direction Danielle had pointed. The woman was petite and young, and long blond curls framed her heart-shaped face. A shudder climbed Lindsey’s spine as memories of Friday night attacked her senses. She spooned a mouthful of the rich dessert, but the delectable sweetness couldn’t lift her spirits. Not now.

A minute ago she had been one of the relaxed and carefree crowd enjoying Sunday-morning brunch. But seeing the blonde, so alive and happy, had plunged her back into reality. And the reality for Lindsey was that another woman, one much like the friends around her table, had been murdered two nights ago.

The scene had never been far from her mind, even though Brigit and the others were carefully avoiding any mention of her passing out during the parade. And they hadn’t brought up the subject of Graham Dufour. Bless them for that.

She sat quietly, watching the others. The Dominican Daredevils. They were just a group of girls who’d gone to high school together. But something had happened between them. They’d formed a special bond that nothing could separate. Not heartbreak and not good fortune. Nothing but...

The noonday sun shone down on the open patio, causing most of the diners to shed their sweaters and light jackets. Lindsey pulled hers tighter. A strange chill coursed through her veins. They were all together today. Good friends, young, energetic. The best years of their lives should still lie ahead of them.

So why was this ominous feeling weighing her down? She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even understand it herself, but somehow she knew the truth, felt it in some secret place inside her soul. They would never all be together this way again.

* * *

THE MAN INHALED SLOWLY, taking a shred of solace from the half-smoked cigarette. This was no way to live, a one-room apartment with nothing in it that belonged to him except a few changes of clothing.

He should be flying to some exotic port by now. And he would have been if things had gone as planned. But they hadn’t.

He took a last puff on the cigarette and then ground it into the ashtray. With trembling hands, he picked up a half-empty bottle of pills and shook several into his hand. Deliberately, he placed them between his dry lips, chasing them down with a swig of whiskey.

But he knew the headache wouldn’t go away, not until the whiskey did its job. Until it let him pass out and block the memories from his mind.

He hadn’t wanted to kill. He’d loved Roxy. But she’d double-crossed him, left him no choice. Still, there wouldn’t have been any problems if he’d only noticed that she had pushed back the heavy drapes and opened the window, leaving nothing but the sheer curtains to hide them from view.

Damn. The pounding in his head was growing stronger. He picked up the glass and gulped down the rest of the whiskey before letting out a string of curses. He was feeling the liquor now. It wouldn’t be long until he got some blessed relief.