Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  “Sometimes we just need someone to listen to us. I know I do.” The least he could do, Cyrus thought, was to give the man a fresh start.

  “I was a damn fool,” Paul said. “Maybe the overload of attention flattered me. I know better now and I’m not sure I would have if I hadn’t shot my mouth off to you.”

  Cyrus chewed a mouthful of marzipan tart and felt cheered all over again at how the small things in life could bring so much pleasure. He looked Paul in the eye all the time.

  “I told you I’d sorted out the two-women thing,” Paul said in a low voice. “I should have done that a long time ago. Not today, but soon, I want to give this to Jilly.”

  He slipped a small velvet box from an inside pocket in his gray linen jacket and kept it hidden inside his hand until Cyrus offered his palm.

  Once he had the box he took it beneath the table and opened it carefully. “My, oh, my. This is very beautiful, Paul. Is it real?” He glanced up at the other man.

  Paul chuckled. “Not many people would ask that question. Yes, it’s real. I wouldn’t give her anything but the best. I’ve never been married, never had anyone to take care of but myself. And I’ve done well. I can afford it.”

  “I see.” What else was he supposed to say?

  “So you approve?”

  Cyrus returned the box and picked up his coffee mug. “What are you askin’ me?”

  “I’d like to go forward knowing you feel good about Jilly and me. She hasn’t had all the luck in the world, what with her father putting her out once her mother died.”

  “That’s true.” Cyrus knew the story of Jilly and Joe’s father marrying a quadroon, then turning his back on their girl when her mother died. Joe’s mother had been the first wife.

  “I want her to know how important she is,” Paul continued. “But I need to shake the feeling that I turned into a man I didn’t know anymore for a while. I made a mistake and now it’s over.”

  Cyrus nodded. “I believe you and I’m glad you and Jilly have found each other.”

  “Will you marry us?”

  Movin’ right along. “When you two are ready we should get together. She’ll want time to enjoy all the stuff that comes beforehand.”

  “Thank you, Cyrus,” Paul said. “You don’t know what this means to me. We’ll do things however Jilly decides.”

  They both drank coffee.

  “Here’s Joe now,” Ellie said. “He’s got Cerise with him.”

  Cyrus had decided Ellie and Joe were getting close, real close.

  Looking grim, Joe opened the shop door and let Cerise rush in ahead of him. Something had happened, something that upset both of them. Cerise went directly to stand close to Ellie.

  Joe said, “Could I get some coffee, please?”

  “What’s going on?” Ellie asked him, getting to her feet. “Joe?”

  Doll would broadcast whatever he said all over town, Joe thought. So what—if she didn’t, someone else would. “They’re sweeping areas spreading from the edge of town,” he said. “Came up with a sort of hiding place in a dense spot out by the old Minere place. Nobody’s lived there for years. Our man made a screen out of eucalyptus switches to pull over a hole through the roots of a big ol’ tree.”

  Even though Ellie didn’t respond, he could see her mind working. She couldn’t figure out what any of this had to do with her right now.

  “You think the person, whoever he is, is still hanging around and hiding out in some hole?”

  “Nope,” Joe said, matter-of-fact. “I think that place is one more example of a ruse. Another piece of window dressing. He had a picture of you pinned up.”

  Her hands went to her throat. “What picture?”

  “From the newspaper. It’s the same as we thought before. If he didn’t—”

  “Joe,” Cerise interrupted.

  He said, “I need to deal with this first. If the guy didn’t want to be associated with the killings and with you, he wouldn’t leave bad stage sets around.”

  Paul and Cyrus joined the group, as did Jilly. Joe didn’t miss the possessive way Paul held Jilly’s waist.

  “He had glass in his mouth,” Cerise blurted out, and she let loose sobs that shook her body.

  “Hush,” Joe said gently. “Try to hold on, Cerise. It’s going to work out.”

  A circle of shocked faces stared at him. Doll Hibbs took hold of Cerise’s hand and rubbed it. “Everyone’s got trouble,” she said, her light eyes filled with sympathy. “Things are goin’ wrong all over.”

  “Don’t say anythin’ you shouldn’t,” Cyrus told Joe. “We can wait for word from Spike.”

  “It’s okay,” Joe said. “I was told to come and tell you as much as you need to know—as much as I know. Then it would be appreciated if everyone remained here until Spike gives the word. There’s too much goin’ on and extra bodies just get in the way.”

  Cerise cried louder and Vivian made her sit down.

  “Lucien from the Spa got hurt—probably late last night,” Joe said.

  His audience drew in breaths but didn’t press him to hurry.

  “Like Cerise said, he had glass in his mouth and stuck in the palms of his hands. He fought with someone but it doesn’t look as if there’s anything to get from footprints. Other areas look more promising.”

  “Lucien’s going to die,” Cerise said, choking her words out.

  “Not if we all get lucky,” Joe told her. He pulled a chair close to hers and sat down, leaned over her. “He needs your strength now. He needs that from all of us. The next few hours are critical.”

  “Joe,” Ellie said quietly. “What’s happened to him?”

  “He was taken to University Hospital in New Orleans,” Cerise said. “I want to go there but Spike says I mustn’t.”

  “He had crushed glass in his mouth,” Joe said. “That probably happened when he was attacked. He’s got a depressed skull fracture and he’s in a coma.”

  “They don’t expect him to live,” Cerise said, and rested her forehead on the table.

  “Ellie,” Joe said. He hated telling her this. “Forensics are still at it and everything’s taped off.”

  She frowned at him. “These things take time, I suppose.”

  “Lucien was found beside your guest house.”

  26

  “On the weather channel this morning they said the storms we got were from the edges of the hurricane,” Ellie said. “Looks like we’re in the clear this time.” The drive from Toussaint to New Orleans with Joe scowling at the road ahead hadn’t been any fun.

  He didn’t answer her now.

  “Loreauville’s ten feet under water. They’re using helicopters to get the citizens out. And I guess hail the size of footballs is killing people right and left.”

  Nothing. He hadn’t even noticed her ridiculous comments.

  She reclined in the seat as far as possible and shut her eyes. Since yesterday morning when Joe brought the bad news about Lucien to All Tarted Up, his mood had made a steady downward progress. Within an hour Ellie had been allowed back into her place. Between appointments Joe had rushed through the front door of Hungry Eyes to take a prowl upstairs, despite yellow tape across the alley and a pack of officers and science types in the backyard. The moment he could get away completely, he’d returned and hovered through the evening.

  Joe told her he intended to return to the couch for the night to put himself between Ellie and anyone breaking in, and her temper finally broke. You’re scaring me to death. She felt ashamed to think of getting angry with him but he had said he understood.

  Then she had fumed through telephone conversations between Joe and Spike, and Joe and Cyrus, and Joe and Guy. Joe had not volunteered any information and she had refused to sink low enough to ask.

  He did tell her he had business in New Orleans today and would be leaving early in the morning. No, he said, she would not be going with him. Someone would keep a close eye on her till he got back. No, someone wouldn’t, she’d counter
ed, because she intended to go to New Orleans, with or without him, and try to see Lucien.

  A long, tense night followed.

  “What?” he asked abruptly.

  It was Ellie’s turn to keep her lips sealed.

  “What?” he just about shouted. “You said somethin’ but I was watchin’ the road.”

  “A person usually does watch the road when driving. Some people are talented though, they can talk at the same time.”

  He sighed. “If you sit up you can just see Lake Pontchartrain to the left.”

  “I’ve seen it many times.”

  “Look, Ellie, I’m havin’ a bad day, okay?”

  “We all have them,” she told him, but she felt more unhappy by the second. “I guess I shouldn’t have pushed you to let me come with you today. I thought it would be a good opportunity to see if they’ll tell me anything about Lucien’s condition. Face-to-face, I mean.” She also wanted to know if Joe had something in mind other than a supposed visit to his accountant.

  “They won’t. For Lucien’s own safety there’s no information coming out of the hospital and he’s under heavy guard. They definitely won’t let you in to see him. Be grateful he’s still alive.”

  The tears in her eyes annoyed her. “Maybe a familiar face would help him.”

  “If he could see a face, it might. Right now he isn’t seeing anything. He’s in a coma, Ellie.”

  “We were right there when Lucien was hurt and we didn’t know a thing was going on.” She rolled her face away and looked at the blue-gray shadows darkening moss-covered trees. “When I asked to come today you should have told me no. Come straight out with it. This is what happens when people aren’t honest with each other.”

  “I did tell you not to come and I’m not up for a lecture.”

  No, he only wanted to be mean and put her down. “How long will your business take you?”

  “You asked that once already and I said it’s going to take as long as it takes.”

  Instead of coming up with a retort, she sat quietly and took some slow breaths. They passed through the outskirts of New Orleans and headed into the city.

  Joe put his hand in front of her, palm up, and said, “Truce?”

  “Truce,” Ellie agreed, and smacked her right hand down on his.

  “You didn’t forget your cell phone?” Joe asked.

  “Got it.”

  “I’m going to get out on the corner of Canal and St. Charles. All you have to do is go—”

  “One block and turn right on Common to get to Tulane,” Ellie finished for him. “The hospital’s on the right. I’ll keep my phone on and you’ll call when you’re ready.”

  “You’ve got it.” He smiled at her.

  As long as she was a good girl and followed orders he would smile at her.

  In full swing, the city traffic clotted at every intersection. Horns blew and fists waved from vehicle windows. Pedestrians played their daily game of chicken whenever they crossed a road. More rain began to fall and folks in sleeveless cottons whipped up umbrellas, which would disappear quickly enough if the wind really picked up.

  Joe stopped at his appointed spot, gave Ellie a quick kiss and got out. Too busy watching for an opportunity to run across Canal, he didn’t see how quickly she threw herself behind the wheel and turned right on St. Charles Avenue.

  She had decided on her next move and every second counted.

  Right again on Common and she searched both sides of the street for somewhere to park the Jeep. A car pulled away from the curb in front of her and she took its space, thanking the parking karma she had been blessed with.

  At least she knew Joe had crossed Canal Street going in the opposite direction. Everything depended on how far he’d gone.

  Breathing hard even before she left the Jeep, Ellie broke into a run and dodged people on the sidewalk all the way to the last place she’d seen Joe.

  Ellie looked in all directions for a glimpse of his short-sleeved blue shirt.

  Her brain raced but she felt her adrenaline ebb. She had lost him. She made her way across Canal Street, continuing to glance back and forth and to hop from time to time in case she might catch sight of him over the crowd. On the other side of the road she paused. So much for her parking karma, it hadn’t helped her much today.

  On the opposite side of Canal, St. Charles became Royal Street. Ellie didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to look into a shop window and realize she was seeing Xavier Tilton’s jewelry shop, where Billie Knight had died.

  At the end of the block, about to join a stream of pedestrians crossing Iberville, Ellie saw a tall, dark-haired man in a blue shirt and she ran. She couldn’t get close enough for him to take a casual look behind him and see her, but neither would it do to be too far back or he could disappear again too easily.

  Joe walked on. He carried a lightweight navy-blue windbreaker slung over one shoulder.

  Ellie stayed close to the shops and kept about a block between herself and Joe.

  Without warning, he stopped on the next corner, where Bienville intersected Royal, and performed a slalom maneuver between vehicles to get to the other side. That was dangerous and if she could ever find a way, she’d tell him so.

  Shop windows filled with paintings, lace, coin collections, antiques and fabulous estate jewelry went by in a blur, although she did notice an antique doll shop for the first time. Ellie stopped halfway down the next block where the reek of old beer did something to the sinuses that might not be helpful. No need to hurry anymore.

  Drawing back into the doorway of a shop with wire mesh between the eye and the estate jewels inside, she had a good perspective on the building opposite. The police station there stood like a big, granite mausoleum, its steps rising straight up from the sidewalk. Joe climbed those steps and stood to one side of a doorway, scanning up and down the street and obviously waiting for someone.

  Unlikely place to meet your accountant.

  Ellie slipped inside the shop and began what she hoped would be mistaken for a careful examination of a large piece of Dresden tableware near the windows. Crystal prisms dripped beneath multiple candleholders. Presumably the prisms would twinkle when the candles were alight.

  Keeping watch on Joe proved simple. In the hushed atmosphere of the shop customers were expected to take their time over an item.

  A life without Joe Gable wouldn’t be a life. Even from across a street and with glass between them, Ellie felt him. Looking at him made her happy, excited her…terrorized her. When you lost someone you loved it hurt so much.

  She did love him.

  “A beautiful piece, madam,” a man said beside her. “One of a pair. Should you like me to show you other examples?”

  Ellie realized she’d been holding her breath. “No, no thank you. I’d like to take my time with this one first.”

  “Of course.” The dealer backed quietly away.

  Standing on the front of his step now, Joe balanced on the very edge and bounced slightly.

  He checked his watch several times.

  Ellie looked so closely at the Dresden that her nose bumped a prism and set it swinging. She heard a throat clear behind her but pretended she didn’t.

  Joe jogged down a couple of steps and gave a short wave. Spike Devol, also casually dressed, strode briskly to meet Joe and they went inside the police station at once.

  Curiosity ate at her. If their visit wasn’t as much her business as theirs she’d be very surprised.

  Now what did she do—other than get out of this shop?

  On the sidewalk again she wandered on a short distance, weighing her chances of getting caught. Good thing she did move on because at the next corner she saw a second entrance to the station from the side street—Conti. Too bad her favorite antique shop was in Royal Street’s six-hundred block rather that right where she needed it. Any excuse to ogle M.S. Rau’s fabulous collections was welcome.

  She’d come back on a happier day—she hoped.

 
A coffee shop looked like a more convenient answer to her prayers and she settled herself at a counter inside the window, where she could keep an eye on both entrances to the old building across the way. She called Dr. Weston to check on Daisy, who, he said, might be well enough to go home tomorrow. Next she dialed the number for the hospital and began bucking all the people who didn’t want her asking questions about Lucien.

  “That didn’t take long,” Spike said when they went back out to the street. Rain fell. “Pretty tight-lipped in there, not that I expected anythin’ else.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “Too bad we didn’t catch Guy before he left the place.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Thinkin’ he might be plannin’ to come here was only a hunch. He might not have been pleased to see us.”

  “Our hunch was right,” Joe pointed out. “And in case you don’t remember, we’re agreed it didn’t make sense for him to disappear yesterday—right when forensics arrived.”

  Spike pulled on a black waterproof jacket and turned up the collar. “Shouldn’t be hard to find him.”

  Joe nodded. “Not unless he isn’t where the sweet-tempered detective said he is.”

  Spike laughed. “All part of detective training,” he said. “Cut the World Down to Size, l0l. We might as well walk. Decatur isn’t far and I could use the exercise.”

  “Isn’t the bar on Peters?” Joe said.

  “Decatur, Peters, they’re steps apart.”

  “This is a helluva place but I’m glad I don’t live here,” Joe said.

  Spike slapped his back. “Cheer up. We’re gonna have to drink. Can’t hang out in a bar and not drink. Could be we’ll have to sit there and toss ‘em back.”

  “Sure.” Joe shook his head. “I’ve got a thing for throwing my guts up at lunchtime—particularly when I’ll have to drive home.”

  “You’ve got a designated driver. I’m sure she won’t mind if you pass out in the back.”

  Joe didn’t want to imagine that picture.

  They walked on through increasingly heavy rain. In the windows of a corner store metallic beads—blue, gold, purple—glinted between masks, voodoo dolls and white plastic skulls with flashing red eye sockets. From some angles the merchandise all but disappeared behind the dust-laden glass.