What the hell was he doing wasting his time as a cop? He could be making big bucks in Hollywood. With broad shoulders and those eyes that held a hint of mischief and promise when he smiled, which wasn’t often enough for my taste, he took my breath away. Right then, he was giving me his best, professional-cop, stern look and I realized I needed to get my shit together. But, damn, he pushed every button I had. I smiled and walked across the entry hall to meet him.
“Detective—it is Detective, right?” At his nod, I continued, “We can talk in the library.” I pointed to the door I’d just come out of. “My brother, Beau, will be joining us in a few minutes. My sister and her husband will be down in a minute too.”
He nodded and I turned to lead him into the room. I wondered if he was watching my ass. I gave it a little extra twist just in case.
****
Gage
I followed Rafe Delessard into a room with bookshelves lining three walls, trying hard not to notice his very fine ass as I walked behind him. The remaining wall had a large window to let in light and French doors leading out into what looked like it might be a courtyard or large patio. There were several seating areas in the room, and he gestured toward the window where there were two overstuffed leather chairs facing a matching sofa.
I took a seat on the sofa and he lounged in one of the chairs facing me. “Now, can I get you anything, Detective? Coffee—a Bloody Mary, perhaps?” He gave me a mischievous grin. I’d have to say it was almost flirtatious, but then, that may have been wishful thinking on my part.
I stared at him for a minute, gathering my thoughts, trying to remain professional, but he really was beautiful and those dark, brooding eyes of his were mesmerizing. Not to brag, but I’d known some beautiful men in my time, and even made love to a few of them, but there’d never been one to affect me like he did. I finally broke the spell and realized he was sitting patiently, waiting for me to answer. I cleared my throat and said, “Um, no coffee, thank you,” ignoring the Bloody Mary reference.
He smiled and raised a brow, knowing that I’d deliberately ignored his mention of the drink from the night before. “Well, then, what can I do for you?”
Frankly, I could think of at least a dozen things right off the top of my head, but I had to push aside those thoughts and his flirting—which I was absolutely convinced now that he was doing. I cleared my throat and gave him a serious look. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Delessard.”
I frowned and looked at the notebook where I had jotted down some facts. “Our records show that you didn’t call 911 until close to two. What was the hold-up?” It had been my experience that even a fifteen or twenty-minute delay could indicate some kind of suspicious activity—like coming up with a good story about what actually happened.
He frowned. “I could be wrong about the exact time. It didn’t feel like that long. Anyway, I went to tell my brother first.”
“And, where was he?”
“Upstairs in his room.”
I stared at him for a second. “You told your brother before calling the police?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I was kind of freaked out, and I knew he’d know what to do.”
“And the time delay? You think it may have been later when you found the body?”
“Uh...well, maybe I have my times wrong. I really don’t know what time it was—I just guessed.”
“Uh huh. You’re not a great guesser, are you?”
He shrugged and gave me an innocent smile. Believe me, there was nothing innocent about him. Those eyes and those lips were pure sex. I squirmed a bit in my chair.
I was about to try to get stern with him, when a large black cat strolled into the room in front of me. He stared up at me with an evil look for a few seconds and then hissed. I jumped and pushed backward into the sofa cushions. I couldn’t help myself—that was one scary, big cat. “What the hell?”
“Loki, behave yourself!” Rafe held out his hand toward the beast and said, “Come here, you bad boy.” The cat gave me one more mean glare before turning and ambling over to Rafe. “This is my cat, Loki, Detective. I named him after the Norse god who was known as a trickster, the god of mischief. I found him when he was a tiny, playful kitten and it seemed an appropriate name at the time, but he’s grown a bit since then.”
The cat was sitting at his feet staring a hole through me, and I was about to say something that I’m sure would have been unprofessional when, fortunately, another young man walked into the room and came directly over to us. I stood up to shake his hand. Rafe said, “Detective, this is my brother, Thibeau. Beau, this is a detective from the Gretna Police Department, Detective Arceneau.”
He shook my hand and it occurred to me that this family, witches or not, and I certainly had my doubts about that, had been blessed with good looks. Before I could interview the brothers though, there was a loud knock on the front door. I heard muffled voices and then my partner, Luc, appeared in the doorway of the library. I was glad to see him, especially since he’d arrived at the perfect time. I really preferred to question the Delessards separately, and now I could.
“Luc, you’re just in time. I’ve started the interviews. Come on in and let me introduce you.” I turned back toward the Delessard brothers. “Gentlemen, this is my partner, Sergeant Lucien Broussard. The victim was their grandfather, and they have a sister and brother-in-law who live here also, but they haven’t come downstairs yet.”
Luc shook hands with both of them and said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I spoke up then, looking over at Rafe, because I couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, damn it.
“Mr. Delessard, our usual procedure is to speak to each of you separately. Is there another room where I could interview your brother while my partner talks to you? Since I’ve already heard your story, I’d like you to tell him everything you told me about the sequence of events as you recall them.”
Thibeau stood up and said, “Of course. Follow me, Detective.” He turned toward Rafe. “We’ll go to the front room.”
I followed Thibeau to a room just off the entrance hall. He slid open the pocket doors and led me into a large room, which must have been what my grandmother would have called the parlor. It was a very formal-looking room with floor to ceiling windows and would have probably once been used to entertain visitors. There was a baby grand piano at one end and that was all I could see of the furniture because the rest of it was covered in spooky white sheets. I assumed the family didn’t have a lot of visitors and never used this room themselves.
Thibeau pulled the sheets off two chairs that were facing a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. He gestured toward one of the chairs. “Have a seat, Detective.”
As soon as I sat down, I noticed a large portrait of a beautiful woman hanging over the fireplace mantle. She was wearing a long white dress and her dark hair was loose and blowing in the wind. I couldn’t help staring at it and thinking that if this portrait was a true picture of her, she had been a real beauty.
Thibeau observed my interest in the painting and smiled. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? She was my great-grandmother, Celeste Delessard, for whom this house was built. She lived to a ripe old age, I believe, and was known to be a ‘spirited beauty,’ as they used to say in those days.”
He’d taken a seat in the other chair while he was talking about the portrait. I looked over at him and said, “Well, she really is beautiful.” I didn’t mention that his brother, Rafe, bore a striking resemblance to her. Their facial features were similar, but it was the eyes, more than anything. She had the same dark, mysterious eyes that he did. I forced myself to get my mind off Rafe’s damn eyes.
“I have your brother’s account of the events, but I’d like to hear them from your perspective.”
He told me practically the same story as Rafe. I didn’t really buy into all that stuff about magic and witches, but I noted all of it so that maybe I could find something about them on the computer when I got bac
k to the station.
I stood then and so did he. I shook his hand and said, “That’s all for now, Mr. Delessard. Again, I’m sorry about your grandfather. I need to see if my partner is finished interviewing your brother and we’ll get out of your way.” I stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute. We’ll need to speak to your sister too.”
Luc walked in behind me about that time. “No need. I just spoke with her husband and he said that they didn’t hear a thing until Thibeau woke them up. She tried to talk to me, but she was too upset.”
Thibeau gave us a sad look. “Yes, my sister was very close to Abel. I think she took a sedative to calm her nerves.”
“I see. Does she have bad nerves then?”
“She’s a little high strung. She’s young, and this has been upsetting,” Thibeau said, a little defensively, I thought.
I nodded. “Since Luc spoke with her husband, we’ll give her until tomorrow, but we’ll need to speak to her soon.” Thibeau nodded, looking troubled, and Luc and I left after he gave us one more name, that of Nic Gaudet, a guy from New York whom he said had “bad blood” with the victim.
I was anxious to talk with Luc about his impressions of the family, but since we were in separate cars, it would have to wait. When we got to our vehicles, I turned to him. “I’ll see you back at the station. I’m anxious to compare notes.”
Before he got in his car, he looked up at the old mansion. “There’s something really strange about that house.”
Chapter Three
Gage
I got back to the station a few minutes before Luc and was sitting at my desk when he came in. I looked up at him with a grin. “Where have you been?”
He plopped down in his chair facing me and made a snarling sound. “You know damn well where I’ve been. I was right behind you when I got stopped by that fucking red light.”
I leaned back in my chair. “What did you find unusual at the house?”
He raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a few seconds. “Really? Was there anything there that wasn’t? When I got there and looked up at the place, I felt like I was about to walk into one of those haunted houses that open up at Halloween.”
“Yeah, it’s creepy as fuck. I’ll give you that.”
“My memere said that a family of witches lived there, and that they were rich at one time. Then, somebody put a curse on the whole family, and they lost all their money. All they had left was that house.”
“Your grandmother must have been talking to mine because she told me practically the same story when I asked her about the house. Anyway, I don’t believe any of that crap about witches and magic. Besides, did either of the Delessard brothers look like what you think a witch would look like?”
“No. They’re good-looking, all right. The older one, Thibeau, had a kind of tragic vibe going on, though, didn’t he? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s gorgeous, but I can’t think of another way to describe it. It wasn’t about his grandfather either, but something deeper, older. Frankly, he didn’t seem all that broken up about the old man’s death. Neither one of them did.”
“I got that impression, too. It seemed strange since the old man took them in and raised them after their parents were killed.”
“Yeah, it’s odd. Of course, he could have been strict or abusive or just plain cold to them. That could have caused them to have a distant relationship with him.” He smiled. “I didn’t get the same sad vibe from the other one, though. Raphael, wasn’t it? He was all fire and sparkle. What a hottie. I wouldn’t mind spending some quality time with either one of them if they weren’t a part of this case, if you know what I mean.”
I felt myself getting pissed off at the way Luc was talking. Not so much about the other brother, but about Rafe and the look on his face that was pure lust. “Yeah, I know what you mean, but they are a part of this case, so you need to back off.”
He gave me an odd look. “I’m not going to do anything to compromise the case, but hopefully we’ll solve it soon and then, who knows? Me and the hottie might just hook up.”
I felt like my head was about to explode. Luc was my partner and my best friend, but I’d never wanted to hit somebody as much as I wanted to hit him at that moment. I took a minute, shuffled through some papers on my desk and tried to calm my temper. I barely knew Rafe Delessard and my knee-jerk reaction to Luc’s remarks was a little over the top, to say the least. I took a deep breath and looked over at my partner, who was studying me with a weird expression on his face. Before he could say anything, I jumped right in with a question. “So, do you figure either one of the brothers for the murder?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t get a feel for either one of them for it. Of course, stranger things have happened, but my gut says no about the two of them.”
“Same here. It had to be somebody in that house, though.”
“Okay. Well, do you want to write up the report or do you want me to do it?”
God, I hated writing reports, but I thought it was my turn. “I’ll do it.”
“Okay. While you’re doing that, I’ll see if I can find an address for this Nic Gaudet that Thibeau mentioned to me and call the precinct he lives in so they can go check him out.”
A couple of days later, New York detectives called and advised Luc that Nic Gaudet had been in New York at the time of the murder so that ruled him out. We were back to square one and our original theory—that our perp had to be someone in that house. Luc and I spent the rest of the day looking into the backgrounds of everybody there the night the homicide occurred, and by the time I got home, I was exhausted. Nothing had jumped out at either of us so far, and it was like hitting my head against a brick wall.
After about fifteen minutes, I decided that maybe I needed something to take my mind off the case for a while, so I concluded a drink at the Golden Lantern might be a good idea to help me relax. I was able to convince myself that it had nothing to do with hoping to see Rafe. He worked there, so he might not even be back from compassionate leave for his grandfather, if they gave that kind of thing at the bar.
When I got there and saw that he wasn’t working, I refused to believe that the let-down feeling I had was disappointment.
I sat down, ordered a drink and looked around. There were a couple of guys who looked like they might be fun—one of them even took the seat next to me and tried to strike up a conversation. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties and really hot, but I couldn’t seem to get in the mood to flirt with him, or even have a conversation for that matter. Pretty soon, he got up and moved on to somebody else.
I finished my drink and decided to walk back home instead of ordering another one. I sure as hell didn’t need a repeat of that hangover I’d had the other day and I’d be tempted to have several more, if I stayed. Normally, I don’t drink much, but I was frustrated with how few leads we had on this case. We’d passed the forty-eight-hour mark with nothing solid and the general consensus was that if you didn’t solve the case in that forty-eight-hour timeframe, it got harder to solve with each passing day.
It was only a couple of blocks to my apartment, but the walk seemed to be relieving some of my tension. Just as I was approaching the building and feeling much more relaxed than I had been an hour ago, I heard a voice calling me.
“Detective Arceneau, what are you doing here? Were you following me?”
****
Rafe
I decided to go to the voodoo shop where I sometimes went for some supplies to replace the wards around the house. I needed to get some black salt, which I liked to use as a protective tool. I could sprinkle it around the perimeter of the property and inside the house to keep unpleasant people or things away. Whatever protection wards Abel had put in had either stopped working or weren’t effective enough.
I’d gotten everything I needed and was just coming out of the shop when I saw the handsome Detective Arcineau. My heart started racing like some lovesick teenager’s, but I couldn’t help it. Damn the man was hot. I looke
d him up and down and then spoke to him. “Well, Detective, fancy meeting you here. Were you following me? Maybe to buy some potions—like a love potion, maybe? Pour moi? You don’t really need one.” I gave him a flirtatious grin.
“Um, no,” he said. He looked nervous. “I don’t believe in all that stuff. I live here.”
“Here?” I looked around. “Where?” I was bewildered by his statement, because I didn’t see anything but shops and other businesses. I could sense that he didn’t want to chat, but he at least stopped to answer me.
“I have an apartment over this shop. I inherited the building from my grandmother and remodeled the existing apartment on the second floor. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He was about to walk away, but I wasn’t ready to let him go, so I placed my hand on his arm and stared into his eyes for a second. Then, quietly I said, “You’d like to take me upstairs to see your apartment, though, wouldn’t you? I’m sure you’d like to spend some more time with me.” I was compelling him, of course. Maybe not a nice thing to do, but I really just wanted to spend more time with him.
He blinked a few times, looked dazed and said, “Why don’t you come up and let me show you the place? I’d like to spend more time with you.”
I pulled my hand away, ending the spell, and almost laughed out loud at the shocked expression on his face. It was obvious that he never intended to say any such thing and couldn’t believe that he had. He looked totally confused. God, he was so cute.
I put my arm through his and looked up at him, batting my eyes flirtatiously. “Why, Detective, I thought you’d never ask.” I followed him into the shop I’d just left, and he led me toward the back of the store to a doorway that was nearly hidden. It opened into a small area with stairs leading up to the second floor—and his apartment, I assumed.
Haunted (Witches of the Big Easy Book 3) Page 3
