by Joanna Wayne
Nick grabbed the phone from her hands and broke the connection. He checked the number she’d just dialed—the phone in her cubbyhole office at the university.
Frowning, he slid the phone across the table. She caught it just before it fell into her lap.
“You can go with me,” he said, “but if I get there and sense any danger to you at all, we leave and you may have screwed up whatever chance I might have had at snaring Joy’s killer. Is that what you want?”
“I want the killer caught at least as badly as you do, Nick. But, for once in my life, I don’t want to be the staid and cautious Villaré. I want to go for the gusto. I want to help find the evidence to lock the prince behind bars and get back my house and my life.”
“I think I like you better staid—whatever the hell that means. I know I like you better safe.”
Chapter Eleven
There were two cars parked in Carrie’s driveway. All four doors and the trunk of a light blue compact car were standing open. The trunk was loaded with boxes and one of the older TVs that weighed a ton.
Jacinth peered inside the car as they passed. Every square inch of room except the driver’s seat was piled with clothes, boxes and cooking utensils.
“Looks like Carrie has been cleaning out closets,” Jacinth said.
“And giving it all away to whoever drives the blue compact.”
“Do you suppose that she and Prince Charming are running scared and making a run for it even before they get their hands on the sapphire?”
“Would be smart for him if he’s guilty and doesn’t want to rot in prison, but difficult for me to believe he’s taking Carrie with him. I figured that if this mystery man is Joy’s killer that he was only using Carrie to get to the sapphire.”
A shiver of apprehension slithered up Jacinth’s spine in spite of her earlier bravado. “Do you think the boyfriend is here?”
“We don’t even know for certain there is a boyfriend.”
Nick had a finger poised to ring the bell when the door opened and a plump woman wearing jeans a size too small started backing onto the narrow porch. Her arms were loaded down with pillows. Nick stepped out of her path.
“Good thing this is my last load,” the woman called to someone inside the house. “I’ll have to squash them down to half their size to get the back door closed.”
“Here, let me help you with those,” Jacinth offered.
The woman spun around and looked from Jacinth to Nick. “I didn’t see y’all out here. It’s a wonder I didn’t back right over you. Hope you’re not here for the giveaways. I think I cleared Carrie out.”
“We’re just here to see Carrie,” Nick said. “Does she have more company?”
“Not now. Bertha and Mattie just left. They dropped by to bring Carrie a going-away gift. Cafeteria’s not going to be the same without our Carrie cutting up the way she does.”
The woman mashed the top pillow down with her chin and used her toe to feel for the drop-off from the porch to the first step.
“Hand me two of those before you fall,” Jacinth said, this time with authority.
“Maybe I better.” The woman shared the load and called back to Carrie. “You’ve got more company, hon. You’re never going to get through packing.”
Jacinth looked through the open door and spied two large suitcases and a plaid carry-on bag stacked next to the sofa. And evidently there was at least one more piece of luggage still being filled.
Carrie was definitely leaving town and likely for good. Whether or not there was a man involved with the move was yet to be proved, though Jacinth was pretty much convinced that there was.
By the time Jacinth made it back to the porch, Carrie was at the door.
“What a surprise,” Carrie said. “Didn’t expect to see you two again before I left town.”
“I didn’t realize you were moving,” Nick said.
“I didn’t realize it myself until yesterday. My aunt in California fell and broke her hip and she needs me to help with her housecleaning business.”
The pillow lady stepped over and slid an arm around Carrie’s waist. “She’ll make twice as much money on the West Coast as she does here. Plus she’ll have free room and board at her aunt’s house.”
“Which is three times as big as this one,” Carrie said. “With a pool.” She did a sexy pirouette. “And Janie, here, and all my friends from school can come out for a visit.”
“I’m going to start saving for my plane ticket tomorrow,” Janie said. “And I better get out of here before I start crying.” She and Carrie fell into a bear hug. Janie left after that without looking back.
“I wish I could stand around and talk to you about your grandmother for hours,” Carrie said, “but I really do have to get back to my packing.”
“Do you mind if Jacinth uses your bathroom before we go?” Nick said. “She’s got this itty-bitty kidney and has to go every time I get in rush-hour traffic. Women.”
Itty-bitty kidney problem? You’d think a trained CIA agent could come up with something better than that. Besides, she had no idea what he expected her to do inside the house.
Look for a killer? Steal Carrie’s email password? Excellent idea. Too bad she had no idea how.
The first glitch in Carrie’s performance showed in a mild expression of irritation, but she didn’t refuse the request. “No problem. C’mon in, Jacinth. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”
“I’ll go back and wait in the car,” Nick said. “Don’t stay in there all day the way you usually do, Jacinth.”
She decoded that to mean she should take her time, so maybe he was the one who was supposed to snoop. Jacinth stayed in the bathroom long enough to read a complete article in the copy of People magazine that was sitting on the edge of the tub.
When she’d thanked Carrie, said her goodbyes and left the house, Nick was waiting in the car as he said, engine running.
Jacinth slid into the passenger seat. “What do we do now?”
“Breathe easy.”
He handed her a sheet of paper with flight information and the name Billy Raquet scribbled on it. The flight was for tomorrow morning to Belize.
“Carrie is not going to California and not going alone.”
She was still puzzled. “How did you get this?”
“Mostly luck. I found the e-tickets in the side pocket of the plaid bag while you were gone. I’ve already called Detective Greene with the information.”
“Is this enough proof to get Billy Raquet arrested?”
“This and the outstanding warrant for his arrest on burglary charges in Shreveport are enough to get him arrested. They’re not enough to keep him in jail or to prove he killed Joy Adams, but at least Greene can stop Raquet and Carrie from leaving the country.”
“How did you get that information so quickly?”
“Secret powers of a good P.I.—and the computer Greene was sitting in front of when we talked. Is there anything you’d like to do while we’re out?”
“No, I just want to go home and spend an evening with you worried about absolutely nothing at all. Unfortunately, I still have a class to teach.”
Jacinth had dismissed her night class early and Nick had met her at the door and walked her to his truck. Now they were back at her house and Jacinth seemed to be slowly unwinding from the events of the past few days.
The only light in the comfortable den was the soft glow from a cluster of scented candles on the coffee table. A CD of hauntingly romantic trumpet solos played softly in the background. Jacinth was snuggled next to him on the sofa, not talking, simply cuddling in his arms.
A man could live a lifetime and never have life feel this right. But this was only an illusion, one that would disappear as soon as Nick knew for certain that the danger to Jacinth was past. That could be a matter of hours.
It made the elation over Billy Raquet’s looming arrest bittersweet.
Jacinth scooted down so that she was lying on the sofa with her head r
esting in his lap. “I keep thinking about my mother and how she set out all alone with two little girls, Caitlyn only an infant, rather than stay in this house.”
His muscles tightened and feelings of guilt swelled in his chest. Not guilt for wanting to clear his father’s name but for the lies that lay between him and Jacinth. Still, he couldn’t back away from this conversation.
“Why do you think she left?”
“I always thought it was because she couldn’t face living here without my father. Now I’m not so sure. I know how I felt the other night when I wanted to storm out of here and never come back.”
“It was different for you. Your life was threatened.”
“Mother could have felt threatened, too. She may have thought the man who killed my father would come after her. She might have seen or heard something that put her in danger. And her dying would have left Caitlyn and me without either of our parents.”
“Did she meet someone new?”
“No. I don’t remember her even dating until I was in the sixth grade.”
“If she had dated when you first moved to Ohio, you wouldn’t remember it. You were only two.”
Jacinth pulled away from him and sat up straight. “You’re doing it again, Nick. Every time I mention my mother you make some negative comment. What do you have against mothers, or is it against women in general?”
“I didn’t mean to be negative.”
“Well, you were. My mother loved my father and she loved Caitlyn and me. She didn’t run off with another man and she didn’t latch onto the first one she met. She raised us all by herself with no help from anyone.”
“Then you should be proud of her.”
“I am. And now that I’m back in New Orleans, I plan to learn all I can about my father’s killer. I know he’s still in prison now, and if his name comes up for parole, I’ll fight it.”
“Maybe you should meet the man first.”
“Maybe I will. All of sudden, I’m really tired, so if you’ll excuse me, Nick, I’m going to bed.”
Nick watched her walk away. He ached to go after her, to take her in his arms and carry her to bed the way he had last night. Only this time he wanted to crawl in her bed with her and make love to her all night long. And then he’d wake up in the morning and start all over again.
That was a nice dream. But it was never going to be.
Nick’s mind shifted gears, plunging him back in the pages upon pages of transcripts from the trial that had found his father guilty of murder. He’d been over the file so often since leaving the CIA that he could quote huge segments from memory.
Regardless of what he’d told Jacinth and others, proving his father’s innocence had been Nick’s real impetus for leaving the CIA. He’d given up on finding a procedural flaw that would nullify the jury’s findings. What he needed was conclusive evidence that pointed to the real killer.
A person with opportunity and motive. A person who’d demonstrated erratic behavior patterns following the murder. Sophie Villaré fit the mold perfectly.
Luther Villaré had testified in court that he’d heard Sophie and Micah arguing the day of the murder. Even Marie had admitted that Sophie seemed distraught that night.
But she’d provided the alibi Sophie needed to keep from becoming a suspect. Marie had testified that Sophie had not left the Villaré house that she and Micah and their two young children shared with Marie.
Sophie had moved out of the house just hours after the ripped and chewed remnants of Micah’s clothes were discovered in the alligator-infested bayou where he’d gone fishing with his best friend, who just happened to be Nick’s father. She hadn’t even bothered to return for the memorial service.
Even Nick’s father had admitted that Sophie was constantly on Micah’s case to move away from his family and New Orleans. But he’d also stressed that he’d never seen two people more in love than Micah and Sophie. Elton refused to believe that Sophie could have had anything to do with the murder.
Nonetheless, Nick was convinced that Sophie had either been directly involved in the murder or at least knew what had happened that night. It was the only explanation for her strange behavior in running so fast and separating herself so completely from the Villarés.
Nick was determined to find the truth. He’d do that for his father. But right now, all he could think of was keeping Jacinth safe.
And how much he wished he could hold her in his arms tonight.
JACINTH WOKE to the piercing ring of her phone. She rubbed her eyes until she could open them enough to see the clock by her bed. Six o’clock. No one ever called that early with good news.
Still half asleep, she fumbled around until her fingers closed around the phone.
“Hello.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Who is this?”
“Detective Greene. I hated to call so early but I wanted to be sure I caught you before you left for school.”
“This is my late morning. No classes until ten o’clock. If this is bad news, take two aspirin and call me after nine.”
“What if it’s good news?”
“Then you can call after seven. Just kidding. Please tell me you’ve arrested Billy Raquet and that he’s confessed to everything. I need to know that he’ll spend the rest of his life in jail and never have the opportunity to kill again.”
“He’s been arrested—at the airport. We couldn’t locate him until he showed up for his flight that we knew about thanks to Nick’s and your investigative work.”
“Thank you.”
“Raquet hasn’t confessed to anything, but Carrie is doing some serious blabbing, mostly about Raquet’s crimes. She admits to going to the Villaré house with him several times while it was empty but says all they stole was some worthless jewelry that the pawnshop wouldn’t even deal with them on.
“She suspects that Raquet stole some of your grandmother’s paintings on his own, but insists that she had nothing to do with that. She doesn’t admit to knowing anything about Joy Adams’s murder.”
“What’s her motive for squealing on her boyfriend?”
“When she got to the airport this morning, she learned that he’d canceled her ticket.”
“So he was leaving the country without her. Nick thought that’s what he’d do. Did Carrie explain how they got into the house without breaking a lock?”
“Apparently picking locks is one of Raquet’s specialties. He’s also a whiz at disarming alarm systems and cutting plate-glass windows. He’s been in and out of jail for theft since he was seventeen.”
“That’s a big jump from theft to luring women into a vacant house to kill and decapitate them.”
“The sad truth is, people cross those thin lines every day. That’s why my job never slows down.”
When Jacinth concluded her conversation, she called the university. She needed that personal emergency leave Dr. Jefferies had mentioned. Not an extended one, just for a couple of days. She needed closure so that she could move on.
And while she was at it, she’d call Jefferies and ask him how to get in touch with Dr. Eugenia Kibecti. A secret passageway might be the perfect place to hide a valuable brooch. Even if the passageway had been sealed at one time, that didn’t guarantee that Marie hadn’t had it reopened.
Jacinth was determined to find that brooch, most likely without Nick’s help, since he seemed determined to push her away. She hated the thought of losing him before they ever had a chance to see what they could be together.
He was the first man she’d ever met she thought she could fall in love with. In fact, she probably already had, though falling so hard and fast went against every rule of prudence she’d ever established for herself.
JACINTH’S EFFORTS AT FALLING back asleep failed, so she pulled on her most comfortable pair of old jeans and topped them with an emerald-green sweater. She didn’t bother with a bra. At this point she figured she could walk around the house stark naked without having Nick jump her bones.
She knew she turned him on. She wasn’t blind. She could see the bulge in his jeans, even at times when she least expected it. Evenings when her hair was wet from the shower and early in the morning when she’d come down for coffee without even brushing her teeth.
He might drool. He didn’t succumb. And whatever his reasons were for pulling away from the passion that had burned in those first few kisses, he wasn’t sharing it with her. He’d rather push her away with irritating comments about her mother, anything to keep from getting close.
The smell of coffee drifted up from the kitchen. Nick was up and stirring. She should go down and tell him about the detective’s call. Their killer was behind bars. The danger was over. Nick was free to go back to his own apartment, back to his own life.
“You don’t look ready to be chauffeured to class this morning.”
“I’m taking a few days’ leave.”
“That’s a great idea. What shall we do? Go for a walk? Take a drive? Go fishing?”
“That’s an idea. I’ve never been fishing.”
“Then I’ll have you down to my bayou hideaway one day. You can sit on the front porch and watch silver-finned fish jump six feet out of the water. Or you can drop a line and cork, open a beer and just sit back and enjoy the quiet until you see that cork start bobbing.”
He pantomimed the actions as he talked, his muscles flexing as he pulled his imaginary catch into his imaginary boat. She loved listening to him talk. He had that Big Easy way about him that made her feel she was in a world apart from university life.
Not that she wanted to exchange her world for his. It was the dynamics of the two that intrigued her. Or else it was just being with Nick that made her feel so alive.
She joined the game with him, dropping her line into the water and then pulling it in, jumping out of the way of the imaginary fish as it flopped about in her pretend pirogue. “Now what do I do with this slimy creature?”
“Clean it, woman, and I’ll fry it up with some hush puppies and potatoes and we’ll have us a feast. Then we’ll just sit back, watch the moon come up and keep an eye on a couple of lazy gators floating down the bayou.”
