Читать книгу Saving Grace - Patricia Rosemoor - Страница 9

Grace sounded appalled when she said, “This looks like I posed for an adult magazine!”

Her horror washed over Declan and he was hard pressed not to step forward and take her in his arms to bring her down. “I take it you didn’t pose for whatever is there.”

“Of course not. This was taken in the dressing room this morning when I was getting ready for the shoot. What if it gets out? It could ruin Mama’s chances at the judgeship. And Corbett could lose the upcoming election. There must have been a hidden camera. Who could have done this? Why does someone want to blackmail me?”

“Can I see?” Declan asked, holding out a hand.

She flipped the photograph to her breast. “No!”

“How am I supposed to help you if I don’t know what I’m dealing with?”

“Use your imagination.”

He doubted anything she’d done in front of a camera could be as racy as where his mind took him. “It’s probably not as bad as you think.”

“It’s worse.”

Declan fell silent. He couldn’t force her to show him the photograph. Her escalating emotions bombarded him—fear,

hurt, panic—and he stared at her hard enough to make her squirm visibly.

“All right.” She set everything down on the counter between them. “Go ahead. Look.”

The moment she gave him permission, Grace turned her back on him as if she didn’t want to see his reaction. Her tension was palpable and quickly spread to him.

Declan flipped the photograph over. She was right—it was a lot worse than he’d thought. And better. He couldn’t help his appreciation as his imagination put the woman in the photograph right into his bed.

Reading the note, he knew he needed to play it cool, to hide what he was really feeling. “Blackmail,” he murmured. “This is serious, Grace. Time to take this to the authorities.”

“Are you out of your mind? I go to the police and those photos become public knowledge. I can’t do that to Mama and Corbett—their careers will be destroyed.”

But he suspected a photo like this would probably give her career a boost. Even so, Declan figured she had to be upset at the violation of her own privacy.

“Come on, sit.” He led her into the living area and waited until she threw herself into a chair. “Perhaps the police could be persuaded to keep the case low-key.”

Grace forced a laugh. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. Maybe Raphael can help us catch the creep.”

“If this Raphael is on the up-and-up.” He paused a minute before asking, “How do you know he’s not the one who put the camera in your dressing room?”

“No, not Raphael. That doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t want to ruin the connection I have with the public.”

“Or he could think a little scandal will up sales.”

“No,” she said again, her chest tightening. “How will I get out of this? What do you propose I do now?” she asked Declan. “Other than going to the police.”

“You say Raphael and Max are the only ones with access to the photography studio on a regular basis?”

“Right. Raphael occupies the whole third floor for both Voodoo offices and his living quarters.”

Declan took the chair opposite her. “Offices. Do a lot of people work for him?”

“He has a personal assistant, a design assistant, a cutter and sewer to execute the early incarnations of his designs, a saleswoman and a receptionist.”

“Lots of possible suspects.”

“I guess. He has an office at another location. That’s where the marketing and financial people are located. He also owns two other buildings in the French Quarter and a few in the Commercial District. One of those didn’t fare too well when Hurricane Katrina hit. I understand there was a problem with the insurance. As far as I know, he still doesn’t have it ready for rental.”

“Not in all this time?” Declan mused. “Sounds like Raphael might have some money troubles.”

“Well, he’s put a lot into Voodoo, which is his real love,” Grace said. “He’s been working for other people for years and finally got his own business off the ground. You don’t really believe a man suddenly shooting to the top of his profession would involve himself in blackmail, do you?”

Thinking blackmail money might be just the thing to get that commercial building up and running—not to mention Voodoo, possibly the reason Raphael gave a trust-fund baby work—Declan said, “Hard to say what anyone would do where money is involved. I’ll be checking on his other properties, see what’s going on. Who else works in your building?”

“There are a couple other businesses, but I don’t know any of those people—I can’t imagine they even know I’m around.

As to Max,” Grace went on evenly, “she has a part-time photography assistant who sets up the set. She works when needed and that’s it. Usually Max has a full-time employee who does some of everything—reception, billing, secretarial—but she let Eva go and hasn’t talked about replacing her. I don’t think it was Eva’s work. I suspect Max couldn’t afford to keep her.”

Making the photographer another suspect, Declan thought. “I’m going to need a list of everyone who works in the building so I can run security checks on them.”

“Okay, I can put that together for you.”

“Good. If you add the building employees, that offers more variables to the situation. Lots of people who have access to the studio and therefore the dressing room.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“How about we start by finding the camera—assuming it’s still in place. If we’re lucky we can track it back to its source.”

Grace shuddered. “The studio isn’t open.”

“Even better.”

“You want to break in?”

“The security guard—will it be the one who was on duty earlier?”

“Eula? I’m not sure.”

“Well, hope she is. She seemed to like you.”

“She’s always been friendly to me.”

“Then chances are you can talk our way back into the place.”

On the way back to the studio, Declan couldn’t erase the photograph in his mind. He tried—really—but his libido was stronger than his will, at least in this case. He kept seeing Grace in undergarments that begged to be removed.

So when he opened the door of the taxi he’d hailed for her and she sort of ducked so as not to touch him as she slid inside, he was a bit relieved. But when he noticed that Grace was practically huddling against the opposite door leaving two feet of space between them, Declan tried not to take offense.

“So what’s this event we’re going to later?” he asked, thinking talking would relax her.

“It’s a bipartisan fund-raiser for the local schools. Mama was on the committee that put it together.”

“It doesn’t sound like your kind of scene.”

“It isn’t. But I support my family. And the kids. The schools still don’t have everything they need. If I can do something to make it happen, you bet I will.”

The fervor in her voice got to Declan. So Grace was more than a pretty face.

The taxi stopped at the studio. While Declan paid, Grace let herself out. She went inside and raced up the steps to the second floor. Sure enough, Eula was still at the security desk.

“Miss Grace, what you doin’ back here?” she asked. “Don’t tell me Ms. Babin is makin’ you work tonight.”

“Oh, no. I’m not working. I’m going to a party tonight. That’s the problem—I can’t find my invitation. I must have left it in the dressing room.”

“You need an invitation to get in?”

“It’s sort of an invitation-receipt for the school fund-raiser. My mother is on the committee and wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t show up.”

“Your mama’s a smart lady,” Eula said to her while eyeing Declan with suspicion. “I hear she’s gonna be a judge.”

“She’s hoping. At any rate, I was showing the invitation to my cousin and I guess I never put it back in my bag. Can you let me in, Eula?”

“Sure, no problem.” The security guard stepped out from behind her desk. “Follow me.” But when Declan started off, as well, Eula gave him another piercing look. “Where do you think you’re goin'?”

Seeing that Eula’s bristles were up, Declan winked at her. “I can’t let this woman out of my sight. I’m sure you know how that is.”

But Eula didn’t relax until Declan slipped an arm around Grace’s waist. Then it was Grace who became instantly uptight. He felt the tension the moment he touched her. Still, she forced a convincing smile.

“Declan’s helping me will make the search go faster, Eula,” she choked out.

“Okay, okay,” Eula muttered, leading the way to the Gotcha! entrance.

Declan took a quick look at Grace, who wiggled out from the protection of his arm. Tension was evident in her beautiful features.

Just from his touching her?

Stopping in front of the photography studio door, Eula sorted through keys on a heavy ring until she found the right one. Seconds later, the door stood open.

“Okay, there you go now.”

Grace gave the other woman a warm smile. “Thank you,

Eula.”

Declan let Grace take the lead inside, but he made sure to close the door behind them.

Declan reached past her and turned the doorknob. “Ladies first.”

When he pulled back, he brushed her in the process. She practically jumped away from him. For a second, her gaze went blank, as though she were somewhere else. Declan was hit by a sense of panic that didn’t make any sense. Then Grace quickly gathered herself and went inside the dressing room. She flicked on the light, then slowly turned, her gaze furtively darting around the room.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Slow down. Think about the angle from which the photograph was taken. The camera had to be in front of you. So which way were you facing?”

“The mirror.”

“The camera wasn’t straight on—”

“It was up a little,” she finished for him.

They both looked up, over the mirror.

Declan’s gaze settled on the mirror frame itself—about four inches wide with a shiny black finish. Tall enough to reach over, he ran his fingers along the edge of the mirror.

“Got it,” he muttered, “and it’s Wi-Fi.” He ran his fingers over the front of the frame, then tapped the spot where a small chunk of wood had been drilled out. “The lens such as it is lines up right here.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“The shiny black paint presents you with an optical illusion, but there is a peephole. If you look closely, you can see it.”

Grace moved closer so that she was almost touching him. “There it is. Wireless, huh? It’ll make it easier to pull out.”

“We don’t want to do that. If all else fails, we might be able to trap whoever did this with his own camera.”

“In the meantime, there’s an unwanted set of eyes in the dressing room.”

“So don’t dress in front of the mirror.” What he was really thinking was that she shouldn’t play out her fantasies except in the privacy of her own home, but he didn’t think she would appreciate the advice. She’d already learned the hard way. “Just in case, let me check the room over. And the powder room.”

“All right,” Grace conceded, aiming a resentful glare at the hiding place as she sank into a chair.

Declan felt her eyes on him as he searched every nook and cranny. And her emotions. They were in a whirl. Anger mixed with hurt. He realized she couldn’t conceive of anyone betraying her like this. He wanted to put his arms around her and tell her that he would catch the creep and stop the blackmail and everything would be all right. Only he wasn’t sure it would be that easy. And, from her attitude toward him, she apparently didn’t want him to touch her.

He could only speculate on the reason—her emotions told him what she was feeling, but they didn’t explain why.

“The room seems to be clear other than the camera we found,” Declan said. “How much time do you think we have before Eula comes looking for us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a bit. She’s pretty relaxed. Usually.”

“Then let’s take advantage of every moment and check out Max’s office.”

Leading the way out the door, she asked, “What do you expect to find there?”

“A Wi-Fi camera can send a signal to a compatible printer or computer.”

“I’m not what you would call a techie.”

“Don’t worry, our firm can high tech along with the best of them. My cousin Ian makes sure we keep up with the latest gadgets.”

“You think Max is the one, don’t you?”

“The people here are the most logical suspects. Cameras are Max’s thing, after all, and this is her business.”

“Seems too easy to me,” she said. “She’d know that I would figure it out and press charges.”

“But if she’s getting big bucks from someone for doing this, she could think it’s worth the risk. You have to know that whoever did this is probably counting on the fact that you love your family too much to see their careers destroyed.”

A quick tour of Max’s office did show that both her printer and her desktop computer had a wireless card. But if there was a file with the explicit photos of Grace stored on the system,

Declan couldn’t identify it. He enjoyed checking out the shots he did find—Grace posing for Voodoo ads. She didn’t need to be exposing herself to have him where it hurt. His imagination set in motion once more, he found it difficult to concentrate, so he shut down the computer and continued on a physical search of the office.

When they reached for the same file drawer, their hands touched. Declan froze. He didn’t know how much temptation he could take. Grace got that weird expression again. Then she blinked and came back and Declan was more tempted than ever to kiss her….

“Hey, Miss Grace, where are you?”

They scrambled away from each other as Eula strode into the office. Luckily the computer was down and no drawers were open so the whole thing looked pretty innocent.

“What you doin’ in here?”

“The invitation,” she said breathlessly, pulling something from her trouser pocket and waving it at the guard. “Look, I just found it.”

“Good for you. Bergeron wants to get in here and clean and I told him to wait a minute so he didn’t disturb you.”

“Tell him the place is his,” Grace said. “And thank you so much. Now I won’t have to make my excuses to Mama.”

“She might put you in jail, eh?” Eula said with a laugh as they all left Max Babin’s office.

“Mama might consider it a crime if I didn’t make it to the fund-raiser, but she might have a hard time putting me behind bars simply for being a no-show.”

“You never know who she might decide to prosecute,” Eula said.

When they stepped out of the studio, Declan saw a man in khakis leaning on a cleaning cart. He didn’t look as anxious to get started as the security guard suggested.

“Hey, Bergeron, we’re out of your way,” Grace called cheerfully.

Giving her a sour look, Bergeron merely grunted in return and shoved his cart through the door.

Sensing a wave of something dark, something he couldn’t quite define, Declan murmured, “Friendly, huh?”

“He’s new. He started working here about a month ago. He’s always like that with everyone.” Grace practically flew down the stairs.

Declan had to work to keep up with her.

“Good thinking,” he said. “Bringing the invitation with you.”

“What invitation? This is a dry-cleaning receipt I forgot to take out of my pocket.”

Declan would laugh, but nothing about this situation was funny. Flagging down a taxi to take them back to Grace’s place, Declan knew that, despite her sophisticated looks, Grace Broussard was an innocent swimming with sharks.

He didn’t need to see outward signs to know what a person was made of. His empathic ability let him read her easily—her warmheartedness, her inner fragility, her uncertainty when it came to herself. Grace was a woman who didn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to her.

Declan was determined that nothing would.