The Forbidden

by Heather Graham

  Fin leaned in. “I have a question for you. Did you ever go to the Speakeasy with Cara and Gary, or Kenneth?”

  He was thoughtful a minute. “We hardly ever saw each other... I’m not sure. Maybe I went with Cara once when Gary was on a business trip. I’m not sure. Usually, I met up with Kenneth when he came to Baton Rouge on business. Usually. Maybe five times in the last five years.”

  “Thanks. Okay, anytime that you were at the Speakeasy, did you see anyone act strangely, did you come across anyone who watched women in a fashion that might have made someone uncomfortable?”

  “Like one of my cousins? You can’t think that—”

  “Anyone. Anyone at all.”

  Julian pondered for a moment. “I mean...people look at people all the time in bars. People go to bars to pick up people. That’s hard to answer.”

  He had answered, Fin thought.

  “I’m looking for help from any direction,” Fin told him. He stood. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening. And thank you. Thing is, Julian, whoever is doing this...well, we asked you in because you are a charmer.”

  Julian looked at him, frowning. “I’m a charmer? Okay, I may be better-looking that Kenneth or Gary, but that’s not much of a stretch!”

  “Whoever is luring the women out is someone they trust.”

  Julian laughed. “I’m a trustworthy charmer? Maybe I like that.” He looked at Fin earnestly. “I am trustworthy. I swear!”

  “Good. Okay, come on. We may still make dinner.”

  “Huh?”

  “Dinner—I told everyone I’d see what was going on. You’ve been great and I thank you for coming in. But let’s go—the movie cast and crew and Cara and Gary are still at the restaurant on Decatur. We can maybe get a main course while they eat dessert. They were just ordering beverages when I left. Let’s go.”

  “Just like that? That easy?”

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  “Well, okay. Good. Great!”

  Julian stood to join him. Ryder met them in the hallway. “Thanks so much for coming in, Mr. Bennett,” he told Julian. “We’re grateful for your help.”

  “I’m not sure I helped.”

  “Sometimes not seeing something is as useful as seeing something,” Ryder said vaguely. “Anyway, thanks.”

  “There’s a car to take us back?” Fin asked Ryder.

  “Right outside, waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Avalon wasn’t sure she was glad about Kevin being at her side. He had too much fun teasing her about her relationship, then applauding it.

  “Finally. A really decent guy.”

  “She’s been too big on no guy for a long time,” Lauren said.

  “Oh! I guess you’re dating the FBI guy now, huh?” Cara asked from down the table.

  “I’m not sure we’ve been on an actual date,” Avalon said.

  “She’s just sleeping with him right now,” Kevin quipped. “I’m not sure why we call it ‘sleeping,’ though. I have no idea of just how much sleeping those two get in!”

  They’d started by ordering drinks and then appetizers. Dinner could be one of those things that was expected to take hours in NOLA. Avalon found herself playing with the crawfish on her plate.

  At one point, Kevin whispered to her, “Don’t let them die in vain!”

  She made a face at him, but then he whispered softly again, “So help me, Avalon, you’ve been my friend through thick and thin. I’m not a tough FBI guy, but I’d die before I let anything happen to you.”

  “Ah, Kev! Love you, too,” she said. “I’m not scared, I’m just...”

  “Anxious?”

  Once again, she really wished that she knew who Fin had called. She was supposed to be the actress—when Fin had left, she hadn’t been able to tell if he had known that Julian Bennett would be taken in, or if he was just as surprised as the rest of them.

  The waitress had cleared away their dinner plates and was taking coffee and dessert orders when she looked up to see that Fin was returning...with Julian Bennett.

  Cara rose to hug her cousin, anxiously demanding to know what had happened, why the police had wanted to see him and did they think he could be guilty of anything in any way?

  Julian explained that they had just wanted to know anything that he knew about Houma and the Speakeasy.

  “Oh!” Cara said. “Maybe it’s that rock-band guy. What do you think?” she asked, looking around the table.

  “Paul McMasters?” Terry asked. “God, no, he’s a great guy. He has a wife. A family.”

  “Serial killers have had wives and families before,” Gary noted gravely.

  “McMasters wasn’t in Mississippi when Ellen Frampton was found,” Fin said. “We checked on that immediately.”

  “Well, Mississippi isn’t much of a drive in the scheme of things from Houma,” Gary said.

  “Right. Except that Paul McMasters was playing in Seattle for the dates in question,” Fin said. “I talked to Ryder—Detective Stapleton. They had my report from Houma, and they were just wondering if Julian might have seen something or someone acting suspiciously.”

  “Oh,” Cara breathed. “Thank goodness. Julian, did you ever see anyone behave suspiciously there?”

  “I told them all that I know. People try to pick up people in bars—how can you tell if that’s suspicious or not?” Julian asked. “I’m ravenous. Think they’d still get me dinner?”

  “Sure, we’ll order dessert,” Brad offered. “Bread pudding with vanilla sauce—yeah!”

  “Key lime pie,” Terry said.

  “We’re in New Orleans, not Florida. What’s the matter with you?” Leo demanded.

  There was laughter. Dessert was ordered. Avalon watched as Fin ordered the fish of the day, and sat back, easy again, just watching what was going on.

  Eventually, it was time to head back. And while a few of the others were going to sit together in the courtyard, Cara and Gary and Julian begged out, saying they were heading back to their own place, and Avalon had no intention of sitting.

  She wanted to know what had happened.

  “I’m going up,” she said, glancing at Fin.

  He nodded.

  “Um, no one will disturb you two now,” Lauren assured them.

  “Thank you—I really do need some sleep.”

  “We talked about that whole ‘sleep’ thing, you know,” Kevin teased.

  “With friends like you...” she teased.

  “We’re the best!” Lauren said.

  And they were, she thought. She gave them a wave and turned to head up to her room.

  Fin grinned and waved to the group, then hurried after her.

  In her room, she closed and locked the door.

  Then she turned on Fin. “What the hell happened? Did you know that they were going to bring Julian in? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

  “I didn’t really have a chance. But it was better that you didn’t know. We could all be surprised and dismayed.”

  “Seriously?” she demanded. “And...do you think that Julian Bennett could be a killer?”

  “No, actually, I don’t.”

  “Did he say something to clear himself?”

  Fin seemed to hesitate. “Nothing definitive. It was more in what he didn’t say.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Avalon, trust me, it does. I was listening to a speech pattern.”

  “Speech pattern?” she said. “To—to go with the essay?”

  “Something like that.” He hesitated again. “They’re going to bring Kenneth in, and Boris—just in the same way. Boris isn’t going to be arrested.”

  “You don’t want to bring Kevin in, too?” she asked, wincing as she realized she sounded defensive.

  “Kevin was in New York w
hen Jane Doe was killed,” he said.

  She let out a soft sigh. “But I must have been in Houma then. Or...maybe not. The mansion was in the Houma area, but a lot of the video was filmed by the Chalmette Battlefield. I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re only talking about an hour and a half in driving distance, maybe an hour with no traffic and two hours with traffic.”

  “Right,” Fin said.

  He set his gun and holster on the little table by the bed, then started disrobing.

  Avalon sat at the foot of the bed.

  Naked, Fin came up behind her across the bed on his knees. Fingers on her shoulders, lips near her ear, he whispered, “Think they’re listening at the keyhole?”

  “What? No!” she exclaimed.

  She turned. He was looking at her thoughtfully. She searched his face. She didn’t mean to kill the moment, but she needed to know. “I just... Are you going to be called out tonight for something else? Should I be... I mean, is this real?”

  “God, yes,” he whispered.

  She twisted all the way around, meeting his kiss.

  Then she pulled away.

  “Fin?”

  “We have the night,” he promised. “Avalon, I’m all yours tonight.”

  He made good on his promise.

  His fingers moved gently down her cheek and she slid into his arms as they both fell back on the bed.

  She felt the brush of his lips against her flesh as he slid the halter dress up and over her head, and then as he continued to disrobe her.

  She felt the heat begin to rise in her, the sweetness of touching and tasting, and dissolving into him. Forgetting the world in moments of fiery ecstasy.

  And then simply lying beside him.

  In his arms, she slept, and it was sweet sleep, deep and dreamless.

  Fifteen

  Saturday

  Morning found everyone downstairs in the kitchen, digging through the groceries they’d gotten.

  “Cereal! The good stuff, the kid stuff, loaded with sugar,” Brad said happily, holding up a box with cute little creatures on it.

  “We have frozen waffles,” Lauren said. “Did anyone remember to buy syrup?”

  “Oh, yeah, I would never buy frozen waffles and forget the syrup,” Terry assured her.

  “Hi, diddly dee, an actor’s egg for me!” Leo said.

  Boris had one of the cabinets open. “Yes—grits! But, hey, dammit, can anyone here make some decent grits?” Boris wondered.

  “Right—maybe you can whip up some great grits yourself,” Lauren said, laughing.

  “I say we take a walk to Café du Monde,” Kevin suggested.

  Then came the knock at the door. Boris looked at Fin, who shook his head.

  “We won’t know until we answer it,” Terry said wisely.

  Avalon came hurrying down the stairs. Fin felt her eyes on him. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her that Ryder was coming by.

  She’d been sleeping so peacefully when he’d awakened. He had sat up on an elbow, just watching her for a while.

  Wishing he wasn’t quite so...in love?

  You didn’t fall in love in a week, he told himself.

  But it was something. He was happy to be there, just watching her. The fall of her lashes against her cheek, the way she slept with her lips just slightly parted, and ever so slightly curving, as if she even slept with a sweet smile. He’d lain awake most of the night, torn between watching her and going over, and over, every aspect of the case.

  He had finally risen, showered and dressed.

  And so, he had left her sleeping when he had slipped out and joined the others downstairs. As he and Boris headed to the door, Fin assured the director that he could prepare cheese grits that were damned good.

  They opened the door for Ryder.

  “Folks, I’m always sorry to bother you,” Ryder said, looking past Fin and Boris to the others, who had lined up behind them. “We’re just trying so hard to piece some information together.”

  “I thought you were lead investigator on this thing,” Lauren said to Fin.

  “We’re a joint force,” Fin said.

  “We’re just hoping that Mr. Koslov and Mr. Jenson won’t mind coming in with us—they may know something that they don’t even realize is helpful about Houma,” Ryder told the group.

  “I’ll go anywhere and do anything,” Boris said.

  “And I’m happy to do anything if it means finding Cindy’s killer,” Terry vowed.

  “I should have called you, Fin, and asked you about this, but sometimes, showing up in person is the best way to do things. We do work together, but sometimes...”

  “It’s all right, Ryder,” Fin said. “I had figured we’d all keep talking here, see if something didn’t occur to someone, or maybe take a trip back to see McMasters again and hope that something might pop between all of them.”

  “Pardon me, Fin, but I was thinking that our rooms are quiet and give people a chance to think—easier than in a group, where we tend to get distracted. I mean, you’re the head of this investigation according to the powers that be, but this is my city, and that island fell to me, no matter who was drawing the jurisdiction lines.”

  “Yeah, look at the state lines. Sometimes you have to wonder who was drawing them,” Leo said. “Like, seriously, Alabama wants the Florida panhandle in the worst way.”

  Boris sighed, looking at Fin. “I didn’t do it, I swear it,” he said wearily. “I know that I was the one staying on the island, and, yes, I’ve been to the Speakeasy, and yes, I’ve been in every state in the southeast. But I swear, I didn’t do any of this.”

  Terry stared at Fin. “You can’t really think that.”

  “Terry,” Fin said, “I don’t think that you’re guilty and I don’t think that Boris is guilty. Ryder is telling the truth. We’re hoping that because you were in on that shoot, you might have seen something at the Speakeasy, or anywhere in the vicinity, or heard anyone who seemed strange. We’re desperate for help.”

  Terry nodded slowly.

  Fin looked at Ryder. “I have an idea. It’s Saturday morning, no days of rest, but let’s do the best we can here. We’ll go ahead and get breakfast going, and we’ll sit and talk. It won’t be distracting; Lauren and Avalon were there, too, after all.”

  “Not at the Speakeasy, just at the shoot,” Lauren said. “I love Pauly’s Pariah. And the guys were great to work with. But I was also bone-tired.” She glanced over at Avalon. “We were sharing rooms on that shoot—both in the Houma area, and out by the Chalmette Battlefield.”

  Fin started to say that was fine, that anything anyone thought of might help, but to his surprise, Avalon took charge of the situation.

  “We’ll have breakfast and we’ll all sit out in the courtyard. For as long as you like, Detective Stapleton. We were Cindy’s friends. And, yes, what’s happening with the cousin? Is the medical examiner going to release the body?”

  “Cindy’s cousin’s name is Myrna West and she’ll be taking Cindy home next week,” Ryder told them. “The funeral is going to be in Atlanta. Cindy will go into her family plot there. When arrangements are made, she’ll let you all know.”

  There was silence for a minute. Avalon turned to head back to the kitchen. Fin followed her.

  “Avalon—”

  “Make your grits—I heard you claim you’re good. I’m going to throw together some omelets. Is that the plan for today? Just sit here and talk it all to death again?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. I’m waiting.”

  “For?”

  “I need to hear from Tom Drayton, or the police force out by Biloxi, and Captain Tremont in Houma.”

  “Because?”

  “I’m looking for an old hunter’s shack.”

  Boris came into the kitchen, followed by Lauren, and Fin fell sil
ent.

  “Cereal, too—I have an urge for crunchy stuff,” Lauren said. “Leo did want eggs... I’ll bring stuff out to the courtyard table, get it set. Fin—you’re a chef, too?”

  “Yep. I prepare just about three meals really well,” Fin told her.

  Lauren grinned and went into the cupboards for a supply of paper plates.

  “Boris, want to grab some forks, knives, spoons and paper towels?”

  “Will do,” Boris said.

  Fin found cheese, grits, salt and pepper.

  Avalon worked with eggs and whatever else she could find to dice in the refrigerator.

  She didn’t speak to him.

  Kevin conveniently came into the kitchen right when Fin felt the vibration of his phone. He handed Kevin the large wooden spoon he was working with and asked him to take over.

  He walked out to the entry area to take the call.

  It was Captain Tremont.

  “Special Agent Stirling,” Tremont said. “We’ve found your shack. We’re not going to touch anything until you get out here. How soon can you make it?”

  “You’ve been in?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And?”

  “It’s a bloodbath.”

  * * *

  Fin was leaving. He wasn’t staying for breakfast; he was just leaving. And he wasn’t taking her.

  Ryder was at the house; she could only presume that he felt they were all safe with Detective Ryder Stapleton.

  Fin went upstairs, and she tore after him.

  “Fin?” she asked anxiously.

  He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him.

  “Avalon, you helped me a lot with this—you were the one who went into Nolan Christy’s trunk. There was a picture in there that made me wonder if Nolan Christy had been busy off the island, as well. One of the pictures was of a rotting wooden shack. He was in the picture, and a woman was in the picture and... Captain Tremont and his people have found the shack.”