Midnight on the Mississippi

by Mary Ellis

  The ring of his cell phone pulled his attention from the client roster and his personal remonstrations.

  “Hey, little brother, are you still speaking to me? Or shall I clean the dueling pistols for a dawn rendezvous on the levee?”

  Ethan. Always with a flare for the dramatic.

  “There’s been enough gunplay for a while,” said Hunter.

  There was a sharp intake of air, and then Ethan said, “I’m sorry. That was a tasteless thing to say. I’m actually calling because Cora and I are hosting a get-together tonight. We hope you and Ashley could join us. Cora has already talked to Ashley about some fund-raising matter, and she’s all for it. Why don’t you two swing by around seven thirty?”

  Hunter bristled like a cornered cat. Why had Ashley been asked first instead of Ethan checking with his brother to see if he had a previous business engagement? He still had clients to entertain, and that often meant dinner or cocktails, especially when many tail feathers had been ruffled by James. Then Hunter remembered his disloyal, spur-of-the-moment kiss and decided not to disappoint Ashley. She did love a party and was so good at them. Seldom did another partygoer look more beautiful, dress more chicly, or have a better time.

  “That sounds great, Ethan. Ashley and I will see you then.”

  “A sport coat will be fine. No tux or tails.” With his chore complete, Ethan hung up.

  Sport coat? Why couldn’t everyone just wear jeans like at other parties? Ethan always had to maintain society’s standards. Someone needed to tell his brother this was the twenty-first century.

  On his way to the Garden District, Hunter did a little soul-searching. It had been several days since he’d seen Ashley, yet he hadn’t spent much time missing her. The sooner he forgot about that misguided kiss, the better off he would be.

  Ashley was ready when Hunter picked her up at her father’s home. She looked spectacular in a silky dress in deep green with very high heels, an emerald choker, and matching earrings. The jewelry had been twenty-first birthday gifts from her parents shortly before her mother’s death. Since her passing, Ashley has spent so much time at her dad’s she might as well give up her apartment.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, running his hands over her bare shoulders. “Beautiful, rich, and spoiled.”

  “And I hope to grow even more so of all three, sweet prince.” Ashley batted her long eyelashes as she shook away his embrace. “Please don’t mess up my hair. I have it sprayed to look perfectly natural.”

  Hunter let the contradiction in terms pass on the drive to the Galen ancestral home. The Menards lived only a few blocks from Chestnut Street, home to Ethan and Cora, but Hunter kept the convertible top up so that not a single hair would get mussed during the short drive.

  Valets hired by Ethan opened their doors at the front gate. His car would be parked around back instead of down the block with the others. Hunter let his gaze travel up the four-story mansion. How he loved this house. West Indian in style with iron galleries, a third-floor ballroom, and elegant gardens with wisteria arbors, a secluded gazebo, and a goldfish pond. Although damaged during Katrina, repairs had restored the house to its time-honored beauty. Grandmère still lived in her first-floor suite when not traveling and continued to work among the flowers. Beautiful things bloomed almost year round, often competing in brilliance of color and fragrance.

  They took the flagstone walkway around the mansion to the backyard. Ashley seemed more vivacious than usual as she clutched his hand. When the path opened into the courtyard, they both stopped in their tracks.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured.

  The terrace had been transformed into a world usually seen only in fairy tales. Thousands of tiny lights were strung through the branches of two-hundred-year-old trees. A dozen tables set with silver, long-stemmed crystal, and bouquets of magnolia waited for the guests. In the center of each table candles burned in hurricane globes, while sprigs of ivy draped over the linens to the flagstones. Other tables had been set on the manicured lawn, a step below the terrace, while a platform dance floor and covered bandstand were ready for revelers.

  “A few people for a little get-together?” Hunter muttered under his breath.

  “Oh, don’t be a party pooper, darling,” Ashley cooed, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

  As though on cue, musicians rose to their feet and broke into a rendition of “I Will Always Love You.” Dozens of people poured from the house onto the terrace. Children emerged from every shrub and potted plant, and even a few guests jumped from behind trees.

  “Surprise!”

  “Good grief!” and “Oh, goody!” were Hunter’s and Ashley’s respective responses.

  Ashley ran to embrace her father. Philip Menard had emerged from behind a live oak tree. He kissed her forehead with loving affection. Hunter was soon surrounded by his mother, Kenneth Douglas—her apparent beau—Cora, Ethan, and their son, Gabriel.

  “Surprise!” Chloe and Aaron, punctuality not their particular virtue, bounded up the path from the street. Chloe squeezed Hunter’s midsection tightly. “Tonight’s the big night, eh, brother? There will be no backing down now after this Galen family extravaganza.”

  Before he could ask what Chloe meant by that, Aaron grabbed him in a man-hug. Then Ethan reached his side, clutching three icy beers that he quickly distributed. “A toast to bachelorhood and your dwindling days of freedom!”

  As Ashley was joyously whisked away by her girlfriends, Hunter remembered Nicki’s words: They travel in packs like coyotes, never going anywhere alone. “Drink up, drink up!” Ethan demanded. “You’ll need it for strength and fortification.” Aaron and Ethan downed their beers in a postcollege chugging fashion, but Hunter took only a small sip. Something told him he would need his full faculties tonight.

  When a white-coated waiter appeared to relieve them of the bottles, Ethan dragged Hunter toward the band’s podium. With a sinking feeling, Hunter knew what was about to happen. To confirm his suspicions, Ashley’s pals circled behind her, maneuvering her toward the center of the terrace.

  The always-dapper Ethan took the microphone from the bandleader. “Friends, relatives, countrymen, New Orleanians, outlanders, tourists, ruffians…”

  “Get on with it, Galen!” Philip called from his position near the oak. “Or do I have to get my shotgun?”

  The eager crowd surged forward like onlookers at a car wreck. “Patience, Phil. These are Hunter’s waning moments as a free man,” said Ethan. “Let’s not hasten the pony cart to the gallows so quickly.” The men laughed and the women emitted catcalls, while Hunter felt his heart drop into his gut.

  “I have invited y’all to our home tonight to witness history in the making. My younger brother has a question for his lovely girlfriend, Miss Ashley Menard.”

  With the mention of her name, Ashley’s friends burst into shouts and applause as though she had won another pageant. Ashley’s pale porcelain skin glowed rosy pink.

  Ethan paused to allow the women time to settle down before continuing. “Hunter, brave both in battle and investment banking, needs a little courage. So we have aged bourbon, a keg of beer, friends old and new, and plenty of shotgun shells. What do you say we get the man up here?”

  The band struck up the chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

  Everyone clapped and beamed with unbridled enthusiasm.

  Everyone but Hunter, that is. If Philip had actually produced a shotgun, Hunter would have been tempted to use it on his brother. How did Ethan dare presume he needed help with proposing to Ashley? He’d purchased the ring and they had decided on a honeymoon destination. He was simply waiting for the right moment to make it official. Ashley hadn’t pressured him to set a date, yet his brother decided to meddle into something that was none of his business. As much as Ethan resented their father controlling the family with an iron hand, he’d turned into the man after his death.

  Hunter scanned the assembled guests. Ashley’s father had a full tumbler in han
d despite having chronic liver problems. Clotilde waved like a sightseer from a passing riverboat. Chloe wagged her hands behind her ears with juvenile idiocy. Cora smiled back with subtle pity. Nate lifted his beer stein in salute.

  Everyone was looking at him to say something.

  So he would tell them to eat heartily from the platters of food covering the tables under the trees, drink libations with abandon, dance and sing and have a great time. Everyone could stay until the wee hours, and then he would pay for taxis to get them home safely. But he would propose to his fiancée when he was ready. He and Ashley were old enough to set their own terms and not fall under pressure from either family.

  Then he met Ashley’s gaze. With her startling blue eyes glassy with tears, she glowed with expectation and anticipation. Not for one moment did she suspect the thoughts crossing his mind. How could he embarrass her in front of her friends and family?

  How could he possibly disappoint her?

  Hunter reached for her hand as she hurried up the steps to the platform. Once her fingers touched his, he dropped to one knee and uttered the words that everyone in the backyard was expecting.

  “Ashley, will you marry me?”

  It hadn’t been difficult. And from the look on her flushed face, he had his answer before she said, “I will, sweet Hunter.”

  Family and friends clapped and shouted. The band started playing “Everlasting Love” while waiters materialized with trays of flutes filled with champagne. Men surrounded Philip and pounded his back with congratulations as though he’d accomplished some great feat. Little girls whom Hunter didn’t recognize threw confetti into the air. All that was missing was a flock of white doves released into the night air.

  Good grief. If they went to this much trouble for the engagement party, I can’t wait to see what tricks lie in store for the wedding.

  Ashley looked radiantly happy as Clotilde enfolded her in a warm embrace. She also did not look surprised.

  Something told Hunter this hadn’t been quite the bombshell for her that it was for him. Hence the stunning new dress, the perfect hair, and the emeralds that usually stayed in the Menard safe. He felt a bit like a dolt. And he didn’t like the feeling one bit. Did men throughout the ages often feel as if their grand plans had been orchestrated by others well in advance?

  Soon he was enveloped by the crowd and pulled toward the buffet table. A toast to eternal happiness and then a dance with one of the newly announced bridesmaids. Funny how eight, specially selected women were all present at Ethan and Cora’s little get-together.

  Hunter ate some fried oysters and sweet potato pie, behaving like the good sport everyone knew him to be. He drank a shot of bourbon with his brother and Nate, while Ashley toasted her friends with champagne. Then he requested a glass of iced tea from a waiter. Getting drunk wasn’t his style and never had been. And he refused to make an exception just because he’d been maneuvered like a chess piece.

  He had just joined Daddy Menard at the dessert table when he spotted someone skinny and forlorn under the arch to the terrace. Nicki, wearing capris, T-shirt, and sneakers. And she looked as mad as a hornet. He scanned the crowd for Nate but didn’t see him. So Hunter excused himself from Mr. Menard and went to greet the late arrival to the party.

  “Good evening, Miss Price. Have you come to offer congratulations to me or your sympathies to Ashley?” He smiled at her in welcome and then noticed the cuts and scratches on her forehead and cheeks. Further inspection showed that they also crisscrossed her neck, arms, and legs. A nasty bruise marred her jawline, while at least a dozen welts from bites stood in stark contrast against her freckled skin. “What happened to you?” he demanded.

  “What happened to you yesterday?” Nicki snapped, huffing out her breath in exasperation. “Someone was trying to kill me in the swamp. Was that your idea of a joke, Hunter? Because it wasn’t very funny!” Her checks flamed with anger and indignation as her voice drew the stares of several curious partygoers.

  “What are you talking about? I tried calling you yesterday, but your phone was turned off. Who tried to kill you, and why were you in the swamp?” Hunter scratched his head at a loss as to what he should do. He wanted to console her but didn’t quite know how.

  Nicki gritted her teeth before responding. “First, the three men chasing me didn’t properly introduce themselves before firing a shotgun in my direction. Second, I went out to the swamp because you said to meet you there, to see some client named Michael Dennison.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she began to notice people creeping closer.

  “Mr. Dennison lives in Gretna, not in the swamp, Nicki. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, sit down. Let me get you something to drink and then we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  But before he had taken two steps toward the refreshment table, Ethan arrived with Nate on his heels. Both men began pelting Nicki with questions. Ethan demanded to know if someone on the premises was in some way responsible for her appearance. Nate, already frightened by his cousin’s physical condition, grew incensed as he pieced together the fragments of her tale.

  But the true fly in the ointment was Ashley. Hunter’s new fiancée slipped to the front of the fracas and peered down at Nicki. “Who might you be?” she asked. The wrinkle of her nose betrayed disdain for Nicki’s choice of outfits. “We’re in the middle of an engagement party. If you’re with the caterer’s cleaning crew, please wait at the back gate until you’re needed.” Though her words were rude, her tone could be described by some as sweet.

  But if Nicki’s expression were any indication, Ashley’s question just created an enemy for life.

  TWENTY

  When she awoke the next morning, Nicki never had felt worse in her life. Painful cuts, inflamed scratches, and itchy bug bites added discomfort to her sore feet and strained muscles. Her stomach felt queasy, and a headache pounded between her eyes. She shuddered to think about what nasty things lived in the stagnant black water that had entered her bloodstream at every break in the skin.

  But her physical ailments paled in comparison to her emotional state. What a fool she had been. One kiss on a crowded dance floor had her imagining life with Hunter. How pathetic was that? No doubt it had been a sympathy kiss for the socially deprived out-of-towner. She knew he had a girlfriend, so why had his formal engagement party caused so much heartache?

  Maybe because Ashley was a combination of every mean girl she’d ever met.

  Hunter deserved better. But how could she convince a man that a rich, long-legged, perfect-skinned woman who dressed like a fashion model was totally wrong for him? Perhaps Nicki’s Keds, denim capris, and T-shirt had been a bad wardrobe choice for crashing a boss’s engagement party, but when Nate’s message on her voice mail indicated where he would be, off she went to the Garden District. In the aftermath of her horrible ordeal, she never gave a thought that she would walk into a mansion owned by Hunter’s grandmother. She could handle a snobby tea party, maybe even a cocktail soirée with those silly little sandwiches, but now she regretted blundering into Hunter’s private affairs.

  Nicki nibbled on dry toast before swallowing a mouthful of coffee and then her pride. She needed to call Hunter before she lost her nerve. But then her phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Nic. Just checking to make sure you’re okay.” Nate’s voice was tender.

  “Other than making a queen-sized fool of myself in front of our paying client, I’m fine.” She slumped into a chair.

  “I’m more concerned with your physical condition. Want me to take you to the clinic to have those scratches checked out?”

  “Dying alone of African sleeping sickness or typhoid fever in my friend’s trailer is the least of my worries. That may spare me my eventual destiny of mortal humiliation.”

  “You’ve survived embarrassment before. Besides you won’t die alone—your favorite cousin will be there until the brutal end.”

  The mental image made her smile. “Good to know. I was
comparing my circle of pals to Hunter and Ashley’s and came up a hundred or two short.”

  “Even without me and Christine, you’re not alone and never have been. You’ve felt confused and overwhelmed since coming to town. That’s normal for a country girl in the big city, but people with faith as deep as yours don’t need lots of friends or even a loving family. They already have exactly what they need to live a contented life.”

  Nicki reflected before replying. “Wow, just when I all but give up on you, you spout wisdom like a sage.”

  “Anything else you want to know?” Nate chuckled.

  “Yeah. How should I apologize to Hunter?”

  “Short and sweet and don’t grovel, not after what you’ve gone through.”

  “Thanks, cousin.” She said goodbye and ended the call with Nate. Before she lost her nerve, she found Hunter’s number in her contacts list and selected it.

  Perhaps his voice mail would pick up and she could dodge a bullet. But no such luck. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hunter, I owe you an apology—for crashing your engagement party and for accusing you of trying to murder me in the bayou. When Mrs. Prescott called, I was suspicious. But then I put my first instinct out of mind and went out there anyway. A good private investigator should always go with her gut feeling.” Inhaling a breath, she waited to be fired.

  “On the first count, you didn’t crash,” he said in a soft drawl. “The engagement party was a surprise courtesy of my family. Had I known about it beforehand, I would have invited you personally. On the second count, no apology is necessary. Spending the night in the swamp after being chased by thugs with shotguns would make anyone upset. And I don’t agree that those men were out terrorizing simply for a good time. That’s why we’re driving back there today and we’ll retrace your steps. Someone tried to kill you, Nicki. Someone may think you’re close to finding James’s killer. Come to the Quarter as fast as you can. I’m eager to get out there.”