by Joanna Wayne
“I was ready to go with you until you brought up the lazy gators. Now I’m afraid I have to nix the whole idea.”
“And here I was hoping I’d found a woman who’d clean my fish for me.”
“Dream on.”
Nick pulled two mugs from the shelf above the coffeepot and filled them both, handing one to her.
“I had a phone call from Detective Greene this morning,” she said.
“I wondered who was calling that early when I heard your phone ring.”
“I’m sorry it woke you.”
“It didn’t. I woke up about three and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Thinking about our success with pinpointing Carrie’s boyfriend as Joy’s killer?”
“Concerned that it came too easy and that the square pegs went too quickly into round holes.”
“I’m not following you.”
“It’s easy to connect the dots when you have the pattern already pictured in your mind. But you may not always get the true picture.”
“If you’re worried that we’re participating in lynching the wrong man, I can probably ease those concerns.” She dropped into a kitchen chair and shared the details of Detective Greene’s phone call.
“I guess that means you’re relieved of protective custody duty,” she said.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I thought you’d be eager to get back to your P.I. practice. You must have investigations you should oversee.”
“Nothing that can’t wait until Greene finds concrete evidence to link Raquet with Joy Adams’s murder. Stealing paintings and buying a ticket to Belize just doesn’t seal the deal for me.”
Nick’s expressed concerns added to the doubts Jacinth was already experiencing. She was glad he was staying, even though every day they were together would make it that much harder when he moved out.
“I’ll cook breakfast,” Nick said.
“I’ll start searching every nook and cranny in this sprawling mansion and see if I can find the entrance to a secret passageway or a silver-and-sapphire brooch worth three-quarters of a million dollars.”
“What will you do if you find it? Keep the brooch or sell it?”
“It would belong to Caitlyn and me, so I’d only get half a vote.”
“What would you do with your portion—if you sold it?”
“Get the plumbing fixed. And build another kitchen so that Caitlyn and Marcus could have completely separate living quarters and a lot more privacy when they return from their honeymoon.”
Sin pranced into the kitchen as if she’d been called to an audience of her adoring public.
“You now, Sin, if I ever found out that you’d swallowed that sapphire, I’d throw this can opener away and you’d be forced to eat the cheapest cat food on the market.”
Undaunted, Sin utilized her menacing, yellow-eyed stare to prove she wasn’t afraid of threats.
Jacinth sighed and opened the can. “In my next life, I’m coming back as a cat.”
Then she wouldn’t need anybody, not even a tomcat named Nick.
AFTER FIVE HOURS of crawling into narrow, low spaces, straining to reach high ones and helping Nick check inside massive light fixtures, Jacinth was approaching the state of utter and absolute mental devastation.
Busting her toe with a dropped screwdriver she was using to scrape across the top of a window ledge was the last straw. She was going to take a shower and go to work. At least at the university, she’d be doing something useful. She started up the stairs and stopped on the landing.
“You could help me out here, Victoria. Just give me a sign.” Victoria maintained the same stern, condescending stare she’d held for generations.
Jacinth dropped to the step, propped her elbows against her knees and rested her head in her hands. The truth hit her slowly. Her frustration wasn’t about the brooch or the money. It was about the bodies that might be buried in her walls.
She kept pushing the dreaded images to the back of her mind, but even when she didn’t acknowledge them, they were there, like black gaping holes waiting to pull her in.
Not one body, but at least three. The police might not have proof, but Jacinth knew they were there. The musky stench of death that permeated the family tomb lived inside these walls, occasionally reaching out to choke her.
Her home, her legacy, was a morgue.
And the killer was going to come for her.
Shudders attacked and Jacinth started to shake uncontrollably. At some level she knew it was only the stress overtaking her. She had to pull herself together.
Still, tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Jacinth, what’s wrong?”
She closed her eyes as Nick’s strong arms wrapped around her.
“He killed them in this house, Nick. They were young and alive. They had dreams and hopes. And a monster took that all from them for his own sick pleasure.”
The shudders and sobs started again. Nick cradled her in his arms and rocked her like a baby.
“It’s okay,” he crooned. “It’s okay.”
When she finally stopped crying, she looked up at Nick. His shirt was wet from her tears. “We should have gone fishing,” she whispered.
He smiled, and then his lips touched hers. The kiss was sweeter than before, loving and protective, yet still rife with passion.
He stood and tugged her to her feet. His fingers tangled in her hair and his hands splayed across her back. And then in a sweeping motion he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.
The doorbell rang just as they reached the door to her bedroom.
“I’m not expecting anyone,” she whispered. “Don’t answer and they’ll go away.”
“NOPD,” a foghorn blared.
“Something big is up,” Nick said, as he let her slide down his body until her feet kissed the Persian rug. “That’s not your friendly officer’s way of getting your attention.”
And then he bounded down the stairs, leaving her to deal with swollen eyes, a runny nose, the next trauma and a desire that even in the face of disaster just wouldn’t quit.
EMOTIONALLY RATTLED by his love-starved body and the increased guilt he was feeling about lying to Jacinth, Nick yanked open Jacinth’s front door. “I hope you clowns have a good reason for alerting the whole neighborhood of your presence.”
A cop he’d never met waved a piece of paper as if it were a flag he expected Nick to salute.
“We have a warrant to search the house and grounds of the property at this address belonging to Ms. Jacinth Villaré. The occupants are not forced to leave the property unless they fail to follow the direct commands of one of the officers conducting the search.”
“It’s about time you guys made it. I’ll inform Ms. Villaré that you’re here.”
And then he’d take a very cold shower and see if he could fit his own head back on straight.
Chapter Twelve
He watched the excitement from his usual spot beneath the gnarly oak tree. Normally, he only visited the vicinity of his private morgue in the darkness, but the flurry of activity today was too stimulating to miss.
And being here in the daylight would be all the better for catching a glimpse of Jacinth. She reminded him so very much of her father. She had Micah’s Creole fire in her blood. Had his eyes, so dark they looked like puddled ink. Had his hair, thick and dark as a moonless night.
That’s why taking her life would be his most thrilling kill to date. He would have her in his hands begging for mercy and pleading with him to let her live. And it would bring back that delicious rush of exhilaration he’d felt when he’d slit Micah’s throat.
The police were congratulating themselves over their coffee and doughnuts this morning, pleased that they’d found their killer.
But the joke would be on them.
He needed that sapphire in the worst way. It was rightfully his. He’d more than earned it. Luckily he didn’t have to wait until he’d found it to escape with Jacint
h to his walk of twisted fame. If he had to kill Nick Bruno, well, it was only something he should have done years ago.
The urges were on the verge of explosion, the way they had been last fall when he’d killed three women much too close together.
He couldn’t put gratification off much longer. Tonight might have to be the night.
Chapter Thirteen
Jacinth watched as the small army of police officers swarmed like hungry termites, dismantling the house piece by piece. The bathroom where the nightmare had started was the focus of destruction, but no area of the house was left untouched.
Ceiling tiles were removed from one room, selected floorboards from another. Rugs were rolled up and pushed aside. Furniture was rearranged like a kid with a new set of blocks. If there was method to their madness, it was not apparent to Jacinth.
Her cell phone rang and she had to search through rolls of protective plastic to find it.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Jace. It’s me, Caitlyn.”
“Good to hear from you.”
“Guess where Marcus and I are going tomorrow.”
“On a boat ride.”
“No. I’ll give you a hint.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“What’s wrong?” Caitlyn asked.
“Nothing. Why would you think something is wrong?”
“Your voice has that twang you get when you’re stressed.”
Super. Now she had a twang and an itty-bitty bladder. Her body was collapsing at a pace with the house.
“Of course I’m not stressed. Why would I be stressed?”
“Because you need a man in your life, someone wonderful and exciting—like my Marcus.”
“Can’t imagine where I’d find a wonderful, exciting, sexy man around here.”
“I didn’t say anything about sexy.”
“Then I’ll remove that from my checklist. Where are you and Marcus going tomorrow?”
“To St. Martin.”
Jacinth winced as two skinny cops lifted the huge portrait of Victoria from the wall and half dropped, half set it against the side wall. Victoria bobbled but didn’t fall.
“St. Martin?” Jacinth repeated, trying to get her mind back in the conversation. “Is that a church?”
“No. St. Martin, the island. It’s in the northeast Caribbean.”
“Oh, that St. Martin. Sounds fun.”
“We met this wonderful couple who own a very exclusive galley there and they’re flying us down. They’re interested in featuring a display of Marcus’s work.”
“You can’t just fly off with a couple you just met. They might—”
“Relax, Jace. You don’t have to watch over me. I’m all grown up. So is Marcus. We had the couple checked out. They and their galley are legit. But we’ll be gone a couple of extra days. I just wanted to let you know.”
“No problem. Stay gone as long as you want.” Because you definitely don’t want to hurry back for this.
“We’re breaking up,” Jacinth lied. It was impossible to communicate with Caitlyn in the midst of the chaos. “Love you and take care.”
“Love you, too.”
Jacinth put down the phone and studied the now crooked Victoria and her commanding appearance even leaning against the wall like a drunken queen. Victoria the brave overseer of the Villaré mansion.
The perfect person to guard the beloved brooch.
Not a half-bad concept. So obvious in fact that Jacinth should have thought of it from the first.
Anticipation rippled through her as she ran to find Nick. She didn’t trust herself to handle the heavy picture without help. She found him standing at the door to her bedroom, glaring at the two young cops searching under her bed as if he dared them to make a wrong move.
She coerced him into going with her and, in minutes, the two of them were carefully removing the protective backing from the portrait.
“Don’t put too much faith in this agenda,” Nick cautioned.
“Don’t worry. I’ve had my meltdown for the day, and one’s my limit.”
“If the brooch isn’t here, that doesn’t mean you won’t find it,” Nick reminded her, when they were nearly done removing the backing. “Mr. Casey seemed certain the brooch was insured.”
“It’s not about urgency or the money,” she assured him.
“Then why are we going at this in the middle of an invasion when we’ll have the house to ourselves in a few hours?”
“It just seems the perfect hiding place and I have to keep doing something or go crazy.”
They removed the last of the backing and then lay the canvas flat, shoving poor Victoria’s face into the floor. Jacinth poked her fingertips into each corner not once but twice. She’d been so certain the brooch would be here.
“Nothing,” she murmured.
“Sorry, Jacinth.”
“I’m starting to hate this house and the brooch.”
“When all this is past, you’ll love them both.”
“If this passes.”
She tried to step out onto the veranda for a breath of fresh air and some privacy, but only made it to the door.
“Ms. Villaré.”
She turned to the young officer who’d addressed her.
“Detective Greene would like to talk to you in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t realize he was here.”
“Yes, ma’am. We called him. He just arrived a few minutes ago.”
If they’d called the lead detective, it must mean they’d found important evidence. Jacinth hurried to the kitchen. Greene was grim-faced as always, but this time there was a hardness in his face and neck she hadn’t noticed before.
“Have you found new evidence?”
He nodded. “We’ve found two full bodies and what we believe is the remainder of Joy Adams’s body.”
Jewel, Cecelia and Joy. They weren’t formally identified as yet, but Jacinth knew it was them.
All dead. All murdered. All entombed in the walls of her and Caitlyn’s new home.
Jacinth’s stomach lurched and she ran for the back door, reaching the yard just in time to lose her breakfast in the dirt.
NICK SEARCHED UNTIL HE SPOTTED Jacinth standing on the porch with her head cradled in her hands. He’d hoped she wouldn’t have to face this, but he was relieved the police had found the bodies.
Family members needed closure. Knowing was hard. Not knowing was even harder. He’d call Jewel’s father as soon as the victims’ IDs were official. He’d take it hard. Hell, Nick was taking it hard and he was supposed to be a tough, insensitive private detective.
Nick joined Jacinth and put his arm around her shoulder.
“You heard?” she asked.
“Yeah. Are you holding up okay?”
“I’m a bit numb. The concept of one young woman being murdered and left to rot in this house is gruesome. The confirmation that it’s three is almost inconceivable.”
“Have you thought about going back to work for the rest of the day? It would occupy your mind and might be better than hanging around here.”
“I can’t face work. I would like to get out of here for a while, though.”
“My truck’s on ready. Just point me in the right direction.”
“I’ll need to make a phone call first.”
“I’m ready anytime.”
EUGENIA KIBECTI GREETED Nick and Jacinth graciously and invited them into her home. She was tall and willowy, with auburn hair cut into a chin-length bob. Her ankle-length flowered skirt was topped by a tailored white cotton blouse.
Jacinth’s first impression upon crossing the threshold was that she’d stepped into a museum. Not only did the furnishings appear to be genuine antiques, but every accessory, light fixture, picture and even the arrangements of fresh flowers seemed authentic to the period.
“You’ve done an amazing job with the house,” Jacinth said.
“Thank you. We try. My husband Bill and I have spent years acquiring just t
he right pieces. We’re both American history buffs.”
“That shows.”
“The house was practically in ruins when we bought it—which is the only way we could have afforded it. That and the fact that Bill made the New York Times bestseller list for the first time that year.”
“William Kibecti, historical mystery writer,” Nick said. “Now I know why the name Kibecti sounded familiar.”
Eugenia smiled. “Have you read his books?”
“Several of them. I’m not a big reader of fiction, but your husband is one of my dad’s favorite writers, and he got me hooked. Dad never mentioned Kibecti lived in New Orleans, though.”
“Bill tries to keep a low profile in his private life.”
“I can see why,” Jacinth said, realizing it was the first time Nick had mentioned his father. “I really appreciate your letting us drop by this afternoon.”
“No problem. Reggie Jefferies said you and your sister inherited the Villaré mansion on Esplanade. That’s long been one of my favorites. It has such character.”
“Yes,” Jacinth agreed, “but we have a long way to go before it’s fully restored.”
“These old houses are always a work in progress. But your house is well worth the trouble for its historic significance alone. Victoria Villaré was quite the Confederate heroine.”
“Actually, in a roundabout way, she’s the reason I’m here. I’m trying to locate the secret passageway Victoria used to spy on Union officers, but I don’t really know what I’m looking for. Dr. Jefferies thought you might be able to help.”
“Did Reggie also tell you that Bill took him on a tour through Bill’s secret, narrow chamber once?”
“No, he didn’t mention that.”
“You should definitely ask him about it. I don’t think I’ve seen a man turn exactly that shade of green before.”
They all turned toward the doorway to spot the source of the deep male voice.
“My husband, Bill,” Eugenia said.
