"Wait." She tried to slow him down. "I'm going to be working at a church?"
"Well, it used to be one. It's been shut down for the last ten years. It was built in the 1800s and is pretty decrepit. Our city government can't decide whether to tear it down or pour money into restoring it, and welcomed Senator Melton's offer to rent it for awhile. Is there a problem?"
"I don't care. If I'm on site, then maybe I could start this afternoon."
"That's not possible. We'll have to wait for Senator Melton." Tanzer beamed. "But I'll tell him how eager you are to start. He'll be very impressed with your initiative."
"I don't have any desire to impress Senator Melton." Eve tried to hold onto her patience. After all, the man was just doing his job. "And if you'll give me his number, I'll tell him myself."
"Certainly." Tanzer wrote a number on one of his cards and handed it to her. "But it may be difficult to get in touch with him. He's a very busy man. Now, let me point out a few of our local sights to you..."
Tanzer never ran out of either sights or conversation for the next hour. Eve was deeply grateful when he finally nodded at a white-columned house up ahead. "Here we are. I told you it was pleasant. Rather like Tara from Gone with the Wind. Very picturesque, and the bayou winding in front of it is quite lovely. It will be like being in Venice, and our weather isn't bad at all this time of year."
That's what Joe had said. Eve quickly blocked the thought. Stop thinking about Joe. Easy to say. Joe was such an integral part of her life that everything reminded her of him.
Tanzer helped her out of the car. "Most of the house is closed, but you have quite a charming apartment. Four bedrooms and a lovely marble bath. There's even a very well-stocked library. I've seen that there are several romance novels there for you." He knocked on the door. "Marie Letaux is the cook and housekeeper. She's Cajun, and has a real flair for the local cuisine. She comes highly recommended. We were very lucky to get her." The door was opened by a small, dark-haired woman in her late thirties. "Good afternoon, Marie. This is Ms. Eve Duncan. I've just been telling her what a marvelous housekeeper you are and how well you're going to take care of her."
Marie Letaux gave him a cool glance. "I'm Madame Letaux. And she takes care of herself. I take care of the house and cooking."
For the first time in two days Eve felt a smile tug at her lips as she saw Tanzer blink. "Absolutely right, Madame Letaux," she said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
The housekeeper looked at her appraisingly and then slowly nodded her head. "You may call me Marie."
"Thank you."
Tanzer forced a smile and turned to Eve. "I'll just carry your suitcase up to your room. Isn't this place as great as I told you?"
She glanced around the foyer. A gleaming oak floor led to a staircase that might have come straight from the house in the novel to which Tanzer had compared it. Fine wood everywhere and delicately painted murals on the walls. "It's very nice."
The bedroom was even nicer, with its fourteen-foot ceiling and huge four-poster bed. Eve threw her handbag on the satin-covered bed and went out on the wrought-iron balcony facing the bayou.
The view was lovely. The winding waters of the bayou snaked past the house, and cypress and willow trees formed a green veil over the banks. An arched footbridge crossed the murky waters leading to what appeared to be a mossy island. Near the bend of the bayou was a dark looming structure that she—
"Didn't I say it was picturesque?" Tanzer said, behind her. "Now, how about going out to dinner at a nice seafood restaurant I know, and then I'll take you for a tour of the city."
Lord, he was persistent. "I don't want to go anywhere. I'm tired and I just want to take a shower and rest. Thank you for the offer."
He nodded. "You see? You couldn't have worked anyway. It's just as well that Senator Melton was delayed in New York."
"I'm seldom too tired to work." Eve turned back to the bayou. "Is that the church?"
"Yes." Tanzer nodded at the ornate entrance of the huge crumbling structure a few hundred yards away. "See, it's only a short distance."
"It looks completely deserted."
"Perhaps it is. I wouldn't know."
"Is that where the skull is now?"
He shrugged. "I wasn't told. It's where you'll be working."
"Is there someone I should contact?"
"Senator Melton will know."
It was like trying to draw blood from a turnip, and Eve had had enough. She held out her hand. "I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for everything."
"Oh." Tanzer shook her hand. "You're sure you'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine. Thank you."
"Well, you only have to call my office if you change your mind. I'm at your disposal."
"I'll remember." She waited until he'd left the bedroom before crossing to the phone on the desk to dial the number on the card.
"I brought your towels." Marie stood in the doorway.
"Thank you. I'll be with you to help in a moment."
"Why? This is my job." She crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom.
Melton was not at the hotel, and Eve had to leave a voice mail. Great. Just great. She didn't need to spin her wheels this evening. She needed to work until she was so exhausted she could sleep tonight.
"Do you need help unpacking?" Marie had come back into the room.
"No, thanks. I didn't bring much." Eve smiled. "And I don't want to impose on you. That isn't your job."
"Unless I choose." Marie smiled back at her. "There's nothing shameful about being a servant. It's hard, honorable work. I just don't like being patronized by a trou du cul" She turned to leave. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes."
What was a trou du cul} She had an idea, but she'd have to see if she could find it in a French-English dictionary in that library Tanzer had mentioned.
She went back onto the balcony and looked at the main entrance of the church. There might be someone there. Maybe she'd take a walk over there after dinner....
But that dinner was going to be ready in thirty minutes and she should take a quick shower. She'd have to hurry. If she was late, she wouldn't be surprised if Marie threw the meal into the bayou.
And what was a trou du cul?...
-------------------
"This is delicious." Eve ate the last bite of food on her plate. "What is it?"
"Spezzatino di Manzo coi Fagioli," Marie said.
"And that is?"
Marie grinned. "Beef stew."
"Is it a Cajun recipe?"
"No, Italian. I don't only specialize in Cajun food." She made a face. "I know Tanzer probably pigeonholed me in a neat little corner of his mind, but I'm not as predictable as he'd like."
"It's not like any beef stew I've ever eaten. What's in it?"
"Everything. But I can't tell you. It's my mother's recipe and it's a big secret. If I told you, then I'd have to kill you."
The woman's humor no longer surprised Eve. She had found Marie's conversation interesting and her knowledge well rounded. Marie was unusual, to say the least. "Heaven forbid. Your mother taught you to cook?"
"Partly. I went to the cuisine school in New Orleans after I left the university. I was going to be this magnificent, temperamental chef who would dazzle all the world with my delicious concoctions."
"Well, you dazzled me. You changed your mind?"
Marie shrugged. "Life changed it. I got pregnant and I had to make adjustments. You can't take chances when you have to care for a baby."
"You have a child?"
"A boy. Well, a man. Pierre's at Tulane University in New Orleans himself now. He's very smart and kind. He's going to be a wonderful physician, but it takes a lot of money." She looked at Eve. "You have children?"
"I have an adopted daughter, Jane. She's only twelve, but she's pretty wonderful, too."
"Then you understand how I feel about Pierre," Marie said soberly. "I would do anything for him. He's my whole world."
&nb
sp; "Yes, I do understand."
"Good." The housekeeper drew a deep breath. "More wine?"
Eve shook her head. "I need to keep a clear head. I thought I'd walk over to the church and see if I can find something to do."
"What work do you do?"
"I'm a forensic sculptor." That was seldom explanation enough. "I reconstruct faces from skulls."
"I saw something on the television about that." Marie made a face. "Very creepy."
"It all depends how you look at it. You get used to it." Eve got to her feet. "Thank you for a great meal, Marie."
"Who are you going to..." She searched for the word. "Reconstruct?"
"I try not to know. I might be influenced. Will I see you when I get back?"
Marie shook her head. "I'll wash up and go home."
"Where do you live?"
"I have my own house in the city. The key to the front door is on the table in the foyer. I'll lock the back door. I'll be back at seven in the morning to fix your breakfast."
"I'll see you then." But Eve hoped she'd be up and working by that time. "Good-bye, Marie."
Marie smiled and turned away.
Nice woman, Eve thought as she left the house. Thank God, she would have someone around that she liked and understood in this strange place. She was already feeling more at home here.
A few minutes later she was walking across the bridge spanning the bayou. This ancient church was a strange choice for a work site, she thought. Or maybe not. It was certainly private enough, and Melton had stressed confidentiality.
The brass knocker on the huge double doors made a resounding noise.
No answer.
She knocked again.
Silence, dammit.
Well, it had been a long shot anyway. She knocked one more time, waited for a few minutes, and then turned away and started back toward the bridge. It was clear she'd have to be patient and wait until tomorrow.
But Eve didn't want to be patient. She wanted to get to work. Why couldn't Melton have been here as he'd prom—
What was that?
She stopped, her gaze flying back to the main entrance of the church.
Had someone come to the door and called her?
The door was still shut.
Yet she would swear someone had called her. The impression had been so vivid...
Well, it hadn't happened. It was probably a case of so badly wanting that door to open.
It was still early, but she'd go to bed and try to sleep. When she woke, she'd grab some breakfast and try the church again.
She stopped before going back into the house to glance back at the church.
The door was still shut.
Deja vu.
She had a sudden memory of last week, when she'd had that sense of ... something ... up on Bonnie's hill.
Not Bonnie. It wasn't Bonnie. That had all been a lie.
But maybe that feeling she'd had on the hill had not been a lie. Maybe the bastard who'd later desecrated the grave had been there.
But this feeling was ... different. She would swear she'd heard someone call.
Nonsense. It was because her nerves were stretched taut and she was an emotional wreck. The only thing she'd heard calling her was the work she'd been hoping to do tonight. Everything would be better after a good night's sleep.
-------------------
Eve woke three hours later and barely managed to get her head over to the side of the bed before she threw up.
"Oh, God."
Sick. So sick.
She staggered down the hall toward the bathroom, but threw up twice before she reached it.
Her stomach wouldn't stop wrenching. Pain. Nausea.
She dropped to the floor beside the toilet.
She threw up again and again and again.
The stew...
Her ribs hurt. She couldn't breathe.
Food poisoning...
She was going to die.
Bonnie.
She threw up again.
Nobody was here. Empty house. No one to help her.
Get to the phone.
She was too weak to walk. She crawled back down the hall to the bedroom. It was a million miles away and she had to stop to heave several times.
Her ribs...
The phone ... 911. No dial tone.
She tried the operator. "Help ... me. Please, help..."
The phone dropped from her hand. She was going to pass out.
Not here. She'd die here.
The balcony. Someone might see her. Maybe she could call...
She wasn't going to make it.
That was okay. She'd be with Bonnie. Why did she keep trying? It would be so easy to give up.
Joe.
She kept crawling. She was out on the balcony, her cheek pressed against the wrought-iron bars. The metal felt cold, clammy...
She couldn't see anyone near the bayou and the houses were too far away for anyone to hear her if she called. The church loomed huge and dark and silent.
"Help..." Her futile cry was barely audible even to her. Jesus, she couldn't stop retching. "Help ... me."
She was sliding down, her face was on the tiles. She could no longer see the bayou, only the tall, dark doors of the church. It filled her vision. Would that be the last thing she saw...
Darkness.
-------------------
"No. You mustn't sleep. Not yet."
She opened her eyes.
She was being carried down the stairs.
A man ... dark hair ... She couldn't see his face in the darkness of the hall, but his tone was desperate.
Desperate? Why? she wondered vaguely. She was the one who was dying.
"We'll be there soon. Hold on."
Be where?
She gagged again, but there was nothing to throw up.
Oh, God, her ribs hurt.
-------------------
"Are you there? I'm coming, Bonnie."
"Don't you dare. It's not your time." Bonnie was bending over her. "You fight, Mama."
"Too tired. Too sad."
"That doesn't matter. Things will get better."
"I want to be with you."
"You are with me. Always. Why won't you believe me?"
"I'm too tired... I have to ... give up."
"No, you don't. I won't let you. Do you hear me, Mama? I won't let you...."
-------------------
The house was dark, but he didn't turn on the light. He moved quickly through the foyer and then down the hall.
Quick. He had to be quick. He didn't know how much time he had.
The kitchen smelled of lemon and the clean scent of soap, and the white refrigerator gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the window.
Hurry.
He opened the refrigerator and took out the only covered bowl on the shelf. He popped the lid and checked the contents before closing the refrigerator door. Then he wiped the handle and moved toward the door.
It was done.
As he reached the street, his gaze was drawn to the doors of the church, as it always was when he was near it. He felt his stomach muscles clench as the tension and horror gripped him.
No, it was only partly done.
Hurry....
-------------------
White.
White everywhere. White walls, white sheets on her bed.
"Do you want some ice chips? They said you'd probably want some as soon as you woke up."
A deep voice with just a hint of a British accent.
Her gaze shifted to the dark-haired man sitting in the chair beside the bed. It took a moment for her mind to clear enough to recognize him. "Galen?"
Sean Galen nodded. "The water?"
She nodded. Her throat felt so sore and parched that one word had rasped it.
He put the glass to her lips. "You're hooked up to an IV to help the dehydration, but this should feel good."
The cold liquid slowly flowing down her throat did feel good
. Even though the actual act of swallowing was painfully difficult.
"What are you ... doing here?"
"That hurt, didn't it?" Galen leaned back in the chair. "I'll try to fill in the gaps. I have to ask a couple of questions. You nod or shake your head. Talk as little as possible. You're at the Assisi Hospital in Baton Rouge. Do you remember how you got here?"
She shook her head.
"You contracted the granddaddy of all food poisonings. You nearly died. You were brought in after midnight, and it's nearly four now. They had to work on you for a long time."
"Food poisoning?"
He nodded. "That's what they said. Did you eat in a restaurant last night?"
She shook her head. "At the house. Marie..."
"Who is Marie?"
"Marie Letaux. Housekeeper. She made me stew."
"Did anyone else eat any of it?"
She shook her head.
"That's good. What room did you eat in? Do you know if the rest of the stew is in the refrigerator at the apartment? We need to get rid of it."
"I ate in the kitchen." She tried to remember. She had a vague memory of Marie putting foil over the bowl, but she didn't recall her putting it in the refrigerator. "Probably."
"I'll check it out." He poured more water into her glass and held it to her lips. "Though it wouldn't surprise me if she left it on the counter, if she's this careless in her cooking."
"Don't blame ... Nice. Probably not her fault. Someone must have sold her some bad food in the market."
"Maybe."
"What are you doing here?" she asked again.
"Logan gave me a call and asked me to go and see what was shaking with you." He grinned. "What was shaking was your tummy. More like an earthquake. Right?"
She nodded. "Logan? How did he know where—" She knew the answer. "Joe."
Galen nodded. "Logan said Quinn asked him to make sure you were all right. He was uneasy about the setup here and said the two of you were on the outs. Since Logan and Quinn are still not on the best of terms, Logan thought it must be serious enough to give me a buzz."
What had Joe been thinking about? Eve had met Galen only once before, but Logan had told her about his extremely dubious background. He had been everything from a mercenary to a troubleshooter for various corporations. She shook her head. "Don't ... need you."
Body of Lies Page 4
