Her voice tightened slightly when she mentioned her mother, and Justin got the impression that things didn’t always run smoothly between the two women.
“I’ll come with you, if that’s all right.”
“If that’s what you choose to do.”
Her words were softly spoken yet had a sharp edge to them. He wasn’t going to be able to dismantle the wall between them so easily. At least she wasn’t trying to cut him out of her life completely.
Not that Justin would let her.
But for the moment, he would defer to her, give her some room to bounce back from their argument and the trauma she’d suffered that morning.
Surely she would.
When they arrived in the Garden District, Justin was taken aback by the obvious wealth of Lucy’s family. She was so down-to-earth, had such a strong work ethic, he never would have expected her to have grown up in one of the area’s finest mansions.
“Would you tell my mother I’m here?” Lucy asked the woman who answered the door.
“Yes, Miss.”
A servant, Justin thought. Of course servants went with the territory, but to him it seemed odd that Lucy would have to go through a servant to see her own mother. Maybe it seemed odd to her, too, the reason her voice had gone tight when she’d spoken of her mother earlier.
Feeling like a bull in a china shop, he followed Lucy into a large antique-filled parlor with a crystal chandelier and a fireplace big enough to roast a pig.
“This is some place.”
“Mama loves it.”
“But you don’t?”
“I love it for the history it represents—including that of our family—but I wouldn’t choose a place like this for myself. Not that I could ever afford to run it. Well, not unless I chose to open my trust fund.”
A trust fund. Of course. One she obviously wasn’t into spending. He could see that about Lucy. She was probably one of the most self-reliant women he’d ever known. She would want to make her own way, not depend on someone else’s success. And yet, she wasn’t running on full throttle.
Thinking of her so-far-unrecognized talent and the reasons why that was so, he said, “You never know what could happen if you started believing in yourself.”
That made her look at him directly. A shadow marred her soft gray eyes when she asked, “What makes you think I don’t believe in myself?”
“My first clue was that you don’t feature your own masks in your shop…my second was that you don’t trust other people enough to tell them the whole truth.”
Her so-called gift clearly was the source of her insecurity.
“Right,” she muttered, “and look what happens when I am honest.”
“If you were comfortable with your psychic dreams, you wouldn’t let the fact that others doubt them or try to belie them bother you so much.”
Justin wanted to say a whole lot more, but Lucy was wearing an expression only a tad warmer than the one that had been glued to her face all morning.
Then heels clicked across the marble vestibule floor, and Justin turned to see a sleek brunette who was probably in her early fifties but appeared a decade younger. Her dress was a deep blue number with a cut-out at one shoulder—dramatically simple as was her silver cuff bracelet studded with a single large sapphire a shade darker than her eyes.
Kat Ryan looked nothing like her daughter, and their styles were as different as could be. While he registered the fine appearance of the mother, Justin didn’t think she was a match for her more down-to-earth daughter.
Then, again, he knew he was prejudiced since he couldn’t imagine a woman lovelier than Lucy.
“Lucy, darlin’, you should have called to let me know you were coming.” Kat took Lucy’s hand and lightly touched a cheek to her daughter’s, then eyed him. “And who might this gentleman be?”
“Mama, this is Justin Guidry, a private investigator.”
She couldn’t even introduce him as a friend, making Justin realize how angry and disappointed in him Lucy remained.
“Oh, my, is there something I should be worrying about?”
“No, Mama, relax,” Lucy said. “Justin is working on this case and I said possibly you could help him.”
“My, this sounds important. Would you like something cool and refreshing to drink, Mr. Guidry?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, let’s sit then, shall we?”
Justin found himself perched on a spindly legged chair and hoping it was strong enough to hold him.
“Now how can I help you?” Kat Ryan asked.
He said, “We understand there’s a big political fund-raiser in New Orleans tonight and were wondering if you could tell us more about it.”
“The Daughters of Fine Lineage is sponsoring A Touch of Magic to help finance the coming election.”
“Mama is one of the ‘Daughters’ and is probably head of some committee or other.”
“Invitations.”
“Really,” Justin said, looking to use the opportunity to their best advantage. “Does that mean you can invite anyone you want?”
“Of course.”
“Then how about us?” Lucy asked, picking up on his idea. “Can you spare two tickets?”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “So that you can ruin the event with your investigation—”
“Mama, this is important to me. Please.”
Kat Ryan seemed startled, Justin thought, almost as if her daughter had never asked her for a favor before. Which perhaps she hadn’t. Lucy was probably a bit too independent for her own good.
“Perhaps you’d better tell me something about this case of yours,” Kat said.
“Can’t you do this one thing for me without negotiating?”
Her mother frowned. A moment passed before she agreeably said, “All right, Lucy, I’ll get you both in if that’s what you want.”
“Thank you. Tell us about the event.”
“Drinks and appetizers and entertainment will be followed by a formal dinner.”
“What kind of entertainment?” Lucy asked.
“Psychics, of course—the event is called A Touch of Magic,” she reminded them. “We’ll have tarot and palm readers and astrologers. That sort of thing.”
While her mother continued to talk, Lucy withdrew. He noticed she glanced several times toward the foyer which fronted a parlor on the opposite side.
“Is something bothering you, darlin’?” Kat suddenly asked her daughter.
Lucy seemed to come to. “I’m sorry. I was simply wondering if Daddy was home this morning.”
“He’s in his study.”
“I need to talk to him about something. Do either of you mind?”
“No, go ahead. I’m sure Mr. Guidry has more questions.”
Lucy was already on her feet. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Justin watched her head out of the room and make a sharp right on the other side of the stairs.
“Now I wonder what that’s all about.”
He noted the surprise in her mother’s voice. It seemed that Lucy had been dead-on in her evaluation of her family dynamics. She apparently wasn’t at all close to her parents, and her interest in her father surprised her mother as much as everything else that had gone on since they’d arrived.
Kat turned back to him, her expression concerned. “My daughter isn’t in some kind of trouble, is she?”
“She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Justin said evasively, cheered that at least the woman seemed to care about Lucy.
“Thank goodness. I worry about that girl.” Kat shook her head and asked, “Now, what else do you need to know, Mr. Guidry?”
Justin easily got her to talk in more detail about the fund-raiser—from the way the rooms of the old mansion would be set up to specifics about the companies providing catering and entertainment.
But all the while he was wondering what was going on between Lucy and her father.
SILVER-HAIRED, Jack Ryan had a reputation
for being a gentleman with a sugar tongue and a steel will that had made him the success he’d been his entire adult life. He’d taken his father’s business and had expanded it until Ryan Cartage International owned more warehouses in ports from New Orleans north along the Mississippi River than any other company.
Lucy had always wondered if his success was strictly due to a combination of hard work and luck…or if he’d inherited some aspect of his mother’s gift that he’d never revealed.
Whatever the source, his zealous attention to business had left Lucy and Jenn fatherless for a good part of their lives. He’d been there on holidays and birthdays, but not so much in between—no doubt the reason their mother Kat had become a social matron at too early an age. She’d had to find something to do with the time on her hands.
Yet Lucy had always trusted that her father would come through for her if push came to shove, and the proposal she’d just presented was his test.
“I don’t like this, Lucy, girl,” he said, his gray eyes so like her own filled with worry, “but if you’re set on it—”
“I am, Daddy.” She’d told him everything—well, nearly—and had asked for his cooperation. “I need your help so no one gets hurt.”
“What about the police?”
“We’ve given the detective in charge as much information as possible, but he’s not going to approve this kind of sting operation. He won’t do anything with so many influential people around. He needs proof and I intend to give it to him. I can’t live with this, Daddy.” She could die with it, but she continued to leave that part out. “I saw Sophie Delacorte killed in a dream for a reason—so that I could help catch her murderer.”
He thought for a moment, then nodded. “All right, then. I’ll do as you ask. I’ll talk to your mama and make the arrangements.”
“Don’t frighten her, please.”
“You can’t keep protecting her, Lucy. You and your sister have been dancing around the fact that you’re both different since you were children. Kat knows. She’s your mother and she feels your burden even if she tries to hide it.”
So they’d all spent a lifetime pretending. “Thank you for believing in me.”
She did believe in herself, no matter what Justin thought. That’s why she was taking matters into her own hands.
“I’ve always believed in you, Lucy, girl,” her father said, his voice rich with pride. “You’re like me. A self-starter. That’s why I wanted to bring you into the business, so that a Ryan would always be at the helm.”
“I have to make my own way, Daddy. I’m sure you understand that.”
She wouldn’t tell him that she hated the business that had stolen her father from her, and if he left the company to her in his will, she would sell her shares in Ryan Cartage Intercontinental and give every penny away. No way would she duplicate the life he’d built for himself to the detriment of her own family.
If she ever had her own family…
Now why couldn’t she see that in one of her dreams?
“Tonight,” her father said, “promise me you will be careful.”
“Daddy, didn’t you always say I was the sensible daughter?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the best one I have.”
“Then it’ll do for now.”
Her father enfolded her in his arms and the moment made her eyes sting. Why did it have to take a situation like this to bring out his affection for her? But when he released her, Lucy made sure she was smiling.
“Tonight, then,” she said, heading for the door.
Before exiting, she glanced back, but her father was already concentrating on the morning newspaper again.
He would come through for her.
He had to.
Justin and Mama were waiting for her in the foyer. Mama looked as if she wanted to know what had gone on in the study, but as usual, she didn’t ask.
“Ready?” Lucy asked Justin.
“Ready if you are. Your mother gave me the tickets.”
Lucy offered her cheek to Mama, expecting the usual light brush, but instead received a kiss and then a nervous brush of fingers over her cheek.
“Lipstick,” Mama explained.
Lucy wanted to tell her that it was all right, that she could leave the lipstick, but a lump in her throat got in her way.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she mumbled.
Impulsively kissing her mother’s cheek in return, Lucy was out the door before she could feel any awkwardness over the affectionate gesture. For once, she felt like she had the full backing of both her parents and was a little breathless.
She was even feeling softer toward Justin. He hadn’t abandoned her…yet.
They were in the car before he said, “So we have a start. We have the invitations to get us into the fund-raiser. Now all we need is to figure out how to determine which of our suspects is guilty.”
“I have an idea about how to do that,” Lucy admitted. “Let’s get over to Jackson Square and see if we can find Emile Poree.”
“Emile?”
“He may be able to get me a gig as a tarot reader at the party.”
“And you want to do this why?”
“To catch a murderer, of course.”
She didn’t want to elaborate further until they found Emile. Justin dropped her off at the edge of Jackson Square and went to find parking.
The psychic was already at work with a client, but he saw her standing to the side and indicated he wanted to speak to her. She easily bribed Emile away from an already active crowd with a café au lait and beignets at Café du Monde. The place was busy, despite the clouds threatening more rain. Justin arrived just as they did. Luckily, they could be seated right away.
Once they got settled and gave the waitress their orders, Emile asked, “So what is it I can do for you?” His gaze was penetrating. “I told you all I could about Sophie.”
Lucy nodded. “Now how would you like to help us catch her killer?”
“Say the word.”
“Yes, say several,” Justin said. “What kind of a scheme have you come up with?”
“The fund-raiser tonight—A Touch of Magic. I need to be hired as a tarot reader.” She gave Emile a pleading look. “Can you make it happen?”
“I know the woman who has the contract.”
Emile pulled out a cell phone and made a call. He spoke fast, weaving a good deal of patois into the conversation. From it, Lucy gathered he invoked Sophie’s murder to convince her. No doubt anyone tied to the psychic community would want to see that it was solved.
Emile finished his call and said, “Done.”
Their café au lait and beignets arrived in the midst of his giving her the details.
Justin asked, “How do you plan to pull this off? You do have a plan, right?”
“A pretty good one, I hope,” Lucy said. “If you remember, Odette told us that Sophie bought the bordello deck for an important client. I’m guessing our murderer is that very client. Maybe I can figure out a way to get him to talk while reading his cards.”
“If he indulges,” Emile said.
“He will, especially if he sees a bordello deck.”
“You actually think Mike will turn those cards over to us?” Justin asked, his voice rich with disbelief.
“No. But I have some talent, enough to whip up a facsimile that’ll pass.”
“How, when you don’t have the original cards?”
“Famous decks have been photographed,” Emile said.
Lucy added, “There’s more than one Web site with hundreds of images.”
“But what if we can’t find Lamar Landrieu’s work?”
“Then I’ll improvise. Sophie had the deck on her when she died, which leaves me to believe she used it to read the murderer’s tarot that night. What if I read Sophie’s death in the cards?”
Emile said, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“One I don’t like,” Justin added.
&nbs
p; “I’ve been playing a dangerous game from the first dream.” Lucy met Justin’s gaze, knowing that no matter how he felt about her gift, she could count on him to protect her. “But this time I’ll have you to back me up.”
16
AFTER PARTING from Emile, Lucy and Justin walked to a nearby voodoo shop where she picked up a tarot deck with a black background and simple design that could be painted over. Then they went straight to Bal Masque where Lucy quickly explained to Dana the basics of their project.
In the rear room, she cleared a table used to make their masks. At the computer, Justin found a picture of the famous bordello deck online and printed a copy she could use as a guide.
Handing her the print of a nearly nude woman hanging off an iron-lace balcony of a bordello, Justin said, “Too bad I don’t have an artistic bent.”
“You’re good for other things.”
“I am, am I? Care to elaborate?”
He was trying to act like there was nothing wrong between them. Truth be told, Lucy didn’t want there to be anything between them. Not that she could forget the excitement and depth of their lovemaking, but she had to put that out of her mind.
It was important that she get through the next twelve hours without putting them in more danger than necessary, so she decided for the moment it would be best to let go of her disappointment in Justin concerning her gift. She had to pretend that nothing was wrong, that he wouldn’t walk out of her life once this case was solved.
Lucy handed Justin a brush and tube of black acrylic. “Your strokes are flawless.”
“You want me to paint you?”
The way he said it—as in paint her body—triggered a response in her that Lucy tried to ignore.
“The cards!” she said. “Give the design a light go-over.” She turned on a ceiling fan to help dry the cards without moving them. She also had a quick-dry spray that would help. “I’ll follow you and do a figure in flesh, then you follow me with some swirls around the edges with gold. Then I’ll do another pass and fill in any missing details.”
She indicated what she meant in the printout.
In Dreams Page 16
