by Laura Leone
“I know Maurice LeCoz rather well.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess you two travel in the same circles,” Nick said glumly. Maurice LeCoz was a former client of Tremain and Lowery Investigations. Nick’s handling of the LeCoz case had brought the agency to the brink of ruin where it was now poised, awaiting the final push that would send it tumbling into defeat and oblivion.
Claude said, “Maurice LeCoz has bandied your name about, full of dire threats and slander.”
Nick stared at him. “So why are you here?”
“Well, as I say, I need the services of a private investigator. The matter is extremely delicate, and at least I know you. What’s more, in the light of your current situation, I felt you would be rather eager for the business.”
Nick looked at him suspiciously. “And you don’t feel it’s disloyal to your friend to hire me?”
“I didn’t say Maurice was my friend. As you put it, we merely travel in the same circles.” Claude leaned forward slightly, a look of sympathy on his face. “I don’t know the details, of course, but Maurice is a harsh man. I’m sure you had your reasons for helping that girl escape from him.”
Nick shifted uncomfortably, wondering why this conversation made his hackles rise. “I’m obliged to inform you,” he said at last, “that if my license is revoked during the course of investigating your case, I will have to abandon the investigation. I will, of course, refund your deposit.”
“Fair enough,” said Claude with a courteous smile.
Nick frowned. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what the trouble is?”
Claude sighed. “You remember my mother, perhaps, from the Montreaux affair?”
Nick nodded. “I met your mother once.” He remembered Mrs. Bouvier vaguely as the sweet and naïve wife of a tense corporate giant and the mother of two children: a willful teenage girl and a supercilious young man—Claude himself. Five years ago, Claude had been twenty-eight, the same age as Nick at the time. That was the only thing they had in common.
“My father died two years ago,” Claude said.
“I read about it in the papers.” Nick didn’t offer false sympathy. He also remembered that Claude and his father had detested each other.
“His death was a terrible blow to Mother, who was completely unprepared for the burden that has befallen her. Father generously left everything to her without preparing her for the responsibilities she would face alone.” Claude shook his head sadly. “So my delicate and—if I may be frank—naïve mother is now in charge of all the family holdings.”
“Go on,” said Nick, wondering what this was leading to.
“Shortly after Father’s death, Mother began seeing an astrologist to advise her.” Claude looked expectantly at Nick.
“Well?” Nick prompted.
“I believe she initially went there with lighthearted intentions.” Claude smiled deprecatingly. “However, she has since grown to rely heavily on this man, this stargazer. She sees him at least once a week, more often if she faces an important decision. She puts absolute trust in him and follows all his advice, no matter how inappropriate or ridiculous.”
“I can understand your concern,” Nick said, recognizing aware that Claude’s concern was not so much for his mother as for the family fortune. “But there’s nothing I can do about your mother’s new hobby.”
“If only it were that harmless,” Claude said. “I’m convinced this astrologer is the cleverest kind of con man, preying on wealthy, lonely women.”
“Has he acquired sums of money from your mother, apart from his regular fee?” Nick asked.
“He may have. I can’t get a straight answer out of her. But I think he’s got much bigger plans than that.”
“Such as?”
“I think he plans to get her to invest in his business. He and his daughter run an obscure shop in some tawdry part of the Vieux Carré. I think he may intend to convince Mother to start transferring our family’s money to his family, if you see what I mean. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“What is the worst of it?”
“I believe he’s courting her.”
“Courting?”
“Yes.” Claude stood up and paced in front of Nick’s desk. “I know very little about the man’s background, but I do know that he married a wealthy businesswoman. She died mysteriously three years ago. He promptly took all that money and moved down here to New Orleans, setting himself up quite comfortably.”
“You think he plans to marry your mother for her money?”
“Yes. And perhaps even... kill her for it,” Claude added heavily.
“Three years would be a long time for him to wait to remarry if he needed a woman to finance him,” Nick mused.
“He was left quite a tidy fortune. I think it’s only recently that he’d begun to need money desperately.”
“Why?”
“I’m not quite sure. He appears to have run through a great deal by himself. Now his daughter is expanding the business haphazardly, no doubt running up bills he can’t afford to pay.” Claude sat down again. “Do you see my dilemma?”
“Yes,” Nick said slowly. The story sounded logical. A son worried about his wealthy, widowed mother being cheated—even harmed—by a man of questionable ethics. So why did he have such an uneasy feeling about this?
“Then you’ll take the case?”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I want you to find concrete evidence that this man is a fraud, a user, an opportunist. I’ve tried to talk to my mother about him, but she won’t listen. If a professional investigator could present her with objective proof, perhaps I can stop her from doing anything foolish, before it’s too late.”
Nick stood up and turned his back to Claude. He stared out at the river as it rolled past Algiers. The ferry was pulling away, heading for the dock on the other bank.
He didn’t like Claude, and he knew Claude’s motives for protecting his mother were purely selfish. Yet it did sound as though the woman could be making a big mistake. Moreover, the agency needed the business. He couldn’t fathom why he was so reluctant to accept the case.
“I’ll pay your standard fee, of course. What’s more,” said Claude, “if you investigate this man satisfactorily, I’ll use my influence to help you.”
“How?”
“It’s no secret that your situation is being reviewed by the state licensing board, and that Maurice LeCoz is suing you. I am a very influential man. My family has connections almost everywhere.”
Nick thought of the sweat, hard work, and ambition he and his partner Peter had put into the agency. He thought of their elderly secretary, who had once told him no one else would hire a woman her age. He thought of Peter’s wife, now in her eighth month of pregnancy. And he thought of his own impulsive passions that had put everything in jeopardy.
“I’ll take your case, Mr. Bouvier.”
“Splendid.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
“Felix Stewart. His daughter’s name is Diana. They own the House of Ishtar. I’ve written down the address.” Claude produced a small piece of paper.
“You’ll need to fill out a few papers and make a deposit now. The balance will be due once I’ve completed my investigation and provided you with a complete report.”
“Understood.”
“My secretary will take care of the details,” Nick told his new client, opening the office door.
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
He and Nick omitted shaking hands. Nick closed the door and looked down at the slip of paper Claude Bouvier had given him.
“The House of Ishtar in the French Quarter,” he murmured to himself. If the agency weren’t in such deep water, he might have found this a very interesting case.
There was relatively little information about Felix Stewart and the House of Ishtar from the usual sources. As far as Nick could tell, Stewart and his daughter paid their bills, ran an honest business, and had never been sued or arr
ested. A two-day stakeout also provided little information, since neither of them left the House of Ishtar the entire time.
He would need to get inside the shop, he decided. How? He could pose as a customer, he supposed, and sign up for astrology readings or yoga classes. He finally decided to play it by ear and walked into the House of Ishtar’s little courtyard without a definite plan of action.
He grinned when he saw the sign: Help Wanted. Inquire Within.
It must be written in the stars, he thought wryly.
Chapter Two
THE KNIGHT OF SWORDS
Minor Arcana
Meaning: A young man of courage and skill, though headstrong; conflict; heroism.
Reversed: Extreme impulsiveness; false show of courage; bragging.
“Do you want lunch?” Diana asked, stepping into Felix’s study. He was staring into space, apparently contemplating mystic messages. “Felix!”
“Huh?” He turned to look at her. “Oh, Diana. I’m awfully hungry. Do you suppose it’s nearly lunchtime?”
She sighed. “What are you thinking about?”
He looked up at her. Without warning he reached for her hand and drew her nearer to the round table at which he sat. With a graceful, sweeping motion, he spread out the cards of the tarot deck facedown in an even line.
“Pick one,” he said.
Diana heard the soft tinkle of bells coming from the shop to which Felix’s consulting room was attached. “I can’t now, Felix. Someone’s just entered the shop.”
“Please, this will just take a moment,” Felix insisted.
Knowing he would only persist if she refused again, Diana selected a card, pulled it out, and flipped it over. It was the Knight of Swords.
“That’s it. He’s come,” said Felix.
“Who has?”
“The help you wanted. A young man of courage and skill.”
Diana stared at her father.
“Go on, Diana. He’s waiting for you in the shop. He’s the one.”
Diana turned to leave. She turned back. “I hate it when you do things like this,” she said in exasperation. “Even if the person out there is here to apply for the job, how am I supposed to interview someone sensibly, with you spouting off to me that our destiny has just arrived?”
“You don’t need to interview him sensibly,” said Felix reasonably. “He’s the one. I’ve just told you.”
“Urrrgh.” Diana lowered her head in defeat and left the room.
He was waiting for her by the cash register, his eyes roaming curiously around the shop. He was at least six feet tall, with wavy, black hair that gleamed like satin, and shockingly blue eyes that looked exotic in his dark visage.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Nick’s gaze rested on the woman with the honey-smooth voice. She walked toward him with a catlike grace, her green eyes studying him with evident curiosity. A glorious array of strawberry-blond curls tumbled around her shoulders. As she drew nearer, he could detect the faint fragrance of jasmine oil.
“I’d like to inquire about the job,” he said, nodding to the sign in the window.
Diana drew in a sharp breath. He wasn’t remotely like the earlier two applicants. One had been an intense young woman dressed in black, right down to her black lipstick and nail polish. The other was a thin, pale, nervous boy studying anthropology at the university.
This man appeared to be in his early thirties. Despite his casual clothes, he exuded an aura of confidence, control and physical power. He grinned at her surprised expression, and waves of natural sexuality spilled forth and poured over Diana.
“We... uh... expected a university student or something,” she said.
“I’m not a student anymore, but I’d still like to inquire,” he responded charmingly.
She blinked. He had bedroom eyes, piercing and intimate. “Of course. Why don’t we sit in the courtyard?”
Diana led him outside. She could feel his gaze burning into her back as he followed her, and it made her unusually self-conscious. There was something very different about this man. It wasn’t just his darkly exotic good looks, his predatory grace, or his leanly muscled length.
Danger, she thought suddenly. That was it. Despite his flirtatious smile and a certain boyish charm, there was a poised alertness about him, as if he were accustomed to danger.
Or as if he’d brought it with him.
She paused beside a small table set under the big oak tree that shaded much of the courtyard, and she offered him a seat. He slipped into his chair smoothly, without waiting for her to sit down first—he obviously wasn’t a southern gentleman. His gaze dropped from her face and slid over her body, subtly and quickly. He gave nothing away, but Diana felt something quicken inside herself.
Definitely dangerous, she concluded. She sat down, folded her hands, and fixed him with a businesslike stare.
“Felix and I—-Felix is my father—have decided that we need a reliable employee with flexible hours now that our business is growing so fast. Felix casts horoscopes and reads astrological charts and tarot cards. I do everything else, and that’s where our new employee will come in. I teach yoga, book Felix’s clients, run the shop, and serve drinks out here.”
“That’s obviously too much work for one person,” he said, his eyes moving over her gleaming hair and creamy skin. Were those freckles? he wondered. If he scooted his chair a little closer, he’d know for sure. “I’m glad I stopped by today.”
She stared at him for a moment before she said, “The job would entail helping me when I’m here, and running things while I’m out or busy teaching my yoga classes.”
“That sounds fine.” His blue eyes glinted at her from beneath his sooty lashes. Diana had always wanted lashes like that.
She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid the salary is very small. Just pocket money, really. But we’re including room and board. There’s a bedroom with a small bathroom on the second floor of the building, right next to my yoga studio. That’s why we thought this job would be ideal for a college kid.”
“It sounds ideal for me,” he said cheerfully.
“May I ask, Mr...”
“Tremain,” he supplied. “But call me Nick.”
“Nick. Why are you interested in this job?”
“The subject fascinates me.”
“What subject?”
“Astrology. The stars. Destiny.” He gazed at her meaningfully and had trouble suppressing a grin when she glared in return.
“Oh.” This man sounded convincing, but Diana didn’t believe him for a second. He was too glib. “But don’t you think—”
They both turned as the shop door opened and Felix entered the courtyard. “Here you are. We’ve been expecting you,” he said to Nick.
Diana shot Nick a sharp glance. He looked stunned for a moment, then covered it. “Really?”
“Yes.” Felix complacently held up the Knight of Swords card.
Diana saw the perplexed look on Nick’s face.
“A young man of courage and skill,” Felix said.
“Oh. Yes. Of course. How silly of me to have forgotten,” said Nick brightly. “But then, I have such a limited, unfocused, layman’s knowledge of the tarot.”
Diana looked him over. He was rugged and handsome, seemingly intelligent and capable. “You’re interested in the tarot?” she asked with open skepticism.
“Absolutely. I was called here today, I can feel it. This is my chance to change my life, to abandon the meaningless struggle for wealth, and to study the mysteries of the universe under a true master!”
Diana thought he had gone too far and was annoyed to see Felix beam with pleasure.
“Exactly how much do you know about the tarot, Mr. Tremain?” she asked testily.
She could tell she had caught him off guard. His eyes shifted briefly to her, meeting the open challenge in her expression for just a moment. Then he looked at Felix with wide-eyed admiration and said, “I would never presume to answer qu
estions about the deeper mysteries of the cosmos in front of a renowned, uh, person like Felix Stewart.”
Diana rolled her eyes, then she looked at Felix. The pleased expression on her father’s face told her she would get no help from that quarter.
“What’s your name, young man?” Felix asked.
“Nick Tremain.”
“No time like the present to begin reeducating yourself, Nick.”
“Felix—” Diana began.
“The tarot cards have been much maligned,” Felix said earnestly to Nick as he sat down at the little tea table. “They were introduced into Europe by Gypsies in the Middle Ages and have suffered ever since from abuse by insincere practitioners of every sort.”
Nick Tremain leaned forward and listened as if this were the most fascinating subject in the world.
“You may already know,” Felix continued, “that the tarot deck consists of seventy-eight cards, divided into the major and minor arcanas.”
“Did you know that, Mr. Tremain?” Diana asked archly.
“Call me Nick,” he said.
“The minor arcana consists of fifty-six cards, divided into four suits: Wands, Cups, Swords and Pentacles. The major arcana consists of twenty-two trumps, each of which represents the larger, archetypal forces at work in human existence.”
“Felix, I’m trying to interview this man for his suitability as a—”
“But I thought you were an astrologer.”
Diana was certain that Nick had interrupted her just to keep Felix talking.
“I am,” Felix said serenely. “I cast astrological horoscopes and make up charts recording the movements of the celestial bodies—the stars, the planets, the sun, and the moon. Through my scientific reading of the heavenly bodies and my spiritual reading of the tarot as it relates to the zodiac, I help make my clients aware of the forces at work in their lives.”
Nick slapped the table with one hand. “I knew I had come to the right place!” His tone was so full of drippy sincerity that Diana wanted to give him a shove.
“Nick, let me show you your room,” Felix said.
“Wait a minute!” Diana exclaimed. “I haven’t hired him!”
