Louisa followed the plaintive sound of a string quartet to the wide central corridor. Tuxedo-clad waitstaff circled, offering guests glasses of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Curators and other museum staff mingled with the guests, encouraging conversation and answering questions. Louisa spotted a few university professors and board members, some of whom overlapped. Interns and some borrowed university students manned the long tables that displayed auction items on either side of the space. Louisa saw Isa selling raffle tickets. Technically, the museum wasn’t attached to the school, but the relationship was incestuous.
A dozen guests lined up at the bar in the corner. Louisa’s eyes roamed and nearly bugged out of their sockets when she spotted a clean-shaven, devastatingly handsome Conor mixing drinks behind the bar.
Oh. My. God.
What was he doing here? A fresh haircut sharpened his angular features. His broad shoulders filled out a classic black tuxedo that looked more than a cut above the rest of the waitstaff’s attire. Louisa took a deep breath. No one appeared to be giving him undue attention, except for the admiring second glances from female guests. As Xavier had pointed out Wednesday evening, the image of Conor circulated by the media wasn’t an accurate representation.
He caught her staring and pointedly looked away.
Right. She could hardly talk to him here. Louisa smoothed her features and walked in the opposite direction.
She crossed the gleaming tile floor and went through a wide arch into the Celtic Warrior exhibit room. Three long glass cases sparkled in the center of the space. The middle display was filled with ancient and brittle-looking weapons: spears, swords, and knives. The remaining cases were still empty. On the three long walls behind the cases, murals of life-size warriors engaged in battle depicted their original use in vivid color. The murals and cases were sectioned off with velvet theater roping to protect them from possible spills at tonight’s gathering. Normally, the prohibition on food and drink was strictly enforced.
Patrons wandered in, drinks in hand, and Louisa answered their questions.
She leaned over a row of Iron Age swords. Above the rusted weapons, a new and shiny sword gleamed in the spotlight.
“Is that one of the replicas?” a familiar male voice asked.
Louisa turned. Xavier walked toward her.
“It’s stunning. And looks lethal.” The professor set his empty champagne glass on a nearby tray and stopped just a little too close to her. His slurred speech and pirate-eye told her he’d already had too much to drink.
“If it were sharp, it would be. The artisan tried to mimic the original process as closely as possible.” Louisa resisted the urge to check on Conor. Other than Damian and Louisa, Xavier was the only other person at the fund-raiser who’d met Conor in person. Would Xavier give him away? Thankfully, it appeared he was drinking champagne rather than mixed drinks. She doubted Xavier would want to admit any association with Conor, but she didn’t want to test that theory and hoped Xavier wouldn’t make a trip to the bar, not in this unstable, unpredictable condition.
“The police came to my office today,” Xavier said. “Did you know they found a body? They won’t speculate, of course, but I know they think it’s Zoe.”
“Yes. I know about the body.” Sadness coated Louisa’s throat.
He leaned closer to the display case. “Which one was the model for the stolen replica?”
“I didn’t put it out.” His callous question reminded her that someone at this event could be a killer. But who? The girl had been killed Wednesday evening. Where had Xavier gone after he’d stopped at the café to speak with her and Conor? Was Xavier on the list of suspects?
“Tactful as always.” Xavier’s tone dripped with uncharacteristic resentment. He signaled a circling server and plucked a full flute of champagne from the tray. “I heard about your accident.”
“It was unfortunate, but as you can see, I’m fine.”
“Your beautiful face.” He reached out and touched her chin.
So much for the expensive color-correcting concealer the saleswoman at the cosmetics counter had sold her.
“It looks worse than it is.” Louisa removed his hand with a deliberate motion. She took a slight step back, reclaiming her personal boundary.
Xavier’s eyes narrowed to piggish slits.
“Look, there’s Damian.” Louisa waved at the lawyer, who was chatting up an elegant white-haired woman draped with diamonds and gold.
“I really should say hello.” Louisa smiled. “Excuse me, Xavier.”
She escaped before the professor could utter another word.
“Louisa!” Damian greeted Louisa with a gentle peck on the cheek of the uninjured side of her face. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine, considering.”
“Yes, you could have been flattened.” Damian touched her forearm. He leaned close to her ear and whispered through gritted teeth. “What is you-know-who doing manning the bar?”
Louisa’s cover smile was tense enough to make her chin throb. “I have no idea.”
“We need to talk after the auction.” Damian flagged down a waiter and plucked a glass of champagne from a tray.
“Definitely.”
Damian looked over her shoulder. “Here comes your boss. Poker up.”
“Damian.” Dr. Cusack nodded politely at Damian before turning to Louisa. “I need to borrow Dr. Hancock.”
“Of course.” Louisa smiled at Damian. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“How are you?” Cusack asked as he steered her away.
“I’m fine.”
“Then there are several important guests I’d like you to meet.” Cusack leaned closer and lowered his voice. “But there will be no discussion of death, and if you want to keep this job, you’ll stop questioning people.”
Louisa stopped. “I won’t stop looking for Zoe.”
“I mean it, Louisa. I’ll fire you if I have to. This matter is police business, and I wouldn’t want to see you hurt again,” he said in a discussion over tone. He steered her through the crowd, introducing her to VIPs.
An elderly woman rapped her cane on the tile next to the exhibit case. “Have you gotten those murders straightened out yet?”
Louisa bobbled.
“The police have the situation in hand.” Cusack’s smooth voice steadied her. “Have you met our newest assistant curator, Dr. Louisa Hancock?”
“What a lovely brooch.” Louisa bent her head to examine a cameo pinned to the woman’s jacket. “Is it an antique?”
For the next two hours, Louisa deflected gossip about the murders, talked about the new exhibit, and charmed museum patrons while the throbbing in her knees grew to a crescendo. The auction topped off the night’s agenda. The evening had been a success, in spite of the negative publicity hovering around the museum, or maybe because of it. Louisa overheard too many fascinated whispers speculating about the murders. She surveyed the thinning crowd. Her gaze settled on Xavier. He was Zoe’s mentor, and Riki had been one of his students. He’d shown her a different, unflattering side of his personality tonight. Where had he been during the murder?
Conor mixed drinks and watched Louisa work the crowd. A few hours into the event, the line at the bar dissipated.
Damian approached. “Club soda.” He glanced around. No one was close by.
Conor flipped a glass and scooped ice.
“How did you get in here?” Damian asked in a low tone.
“I blackmailed the caterer.” Conor twisted the cap off the soda bottle. “If you don’t want people to know you’re messing around on your wife, don’t take your mistress to bars.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Damian said. “But seriously, what made you think this was a good idea?”
Conor squeezed a lime wedge into the drink and placed it on a cocktail napkin. “Because Louisa was coming, and one of t
hese people could be a killer.”
“What will the cops think of you butting into the fund-raiser?”
“I don’t know. We could ask the one who followed me over here. He’s probably parked outside.”
Damian shot him a bad idea glare. “We need to talk after this. Louisa’s place.”
“You and Louisa are close?” Conor forced the words out of lips tight enough to crack.
Damian’s eyes sparked. “Oh my God. You’re jealous.” He covered his laughing mouth with his fist.
“Why is that so hilarious?” Conor grimaced.
Damian spun around and scanned the crowd. He raised a finger in the air, motioning to a tall, blond man. “Mark?” Damian turned back to Conor.
The blond extricated himself from a conversation with three well-jeweled elderly women and walked over. He gave Conor a critical once-over and raised an approving eyebrow at Damian. “You called?”
Damian gestured. “My partner, Mark, will have a Johnny Walker on the rocks.”
“And I’m not his law partner.” Mark smiled.
Cheered, Conor poured whiskey over ice. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Taking the drink, Mark gave Damian a nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go back to charming those very wealthy widows into making fat donations.”
“You didn’t know I was gay?” Damian asked after Mark returned to his conversation.
“I’ve never felt so clueless in my life.”
“You’ve been preoccupied.” Damian handed over his empty glass for a refill. “Does it bother you?”
Conor laughed. “Damian, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re gay.”
“I didn’t realize you thought there was something going on between me and Louisa. She’s just a friend. A good friend. So if you hurt her, I’ll let you rot in jail.”
“Noted.” Conor nodded.
Damian took his refill and wandered off. Guests drifted toward the lobby. The room emptied out. At a signal from the caterer, Conor started breaking down the bar. He was hoisting a case of glassware onto a rolling cart when he spotted Louisa out of the corner of his eye. She was heading down a corridor. Alone.
He put the box on the cart, glanced around, and set off after her. He caught up with her easily. Her pace was slow and deliberate, as if she was masking pain. “Where are you going?”
“I locked my purse in my office.” She turned and stopped him with a raised hand. “You can’t come back here.”
“Well I don’t want you to go back there by yourself.”
“It’s my office.” She propped a hand on her hip.
Conor crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s dark and empty.”
Impasse.
Louisa humphed. “Fine. I’ll get April to come with me. Go back to your job before someone sees you back here.”
An angry whisper from around the corner stopped them. “I’m warning you.”
Conor held a finger to his lips and pushed Louisa behind him. He peered around the corner. Halfway down the corridor, a door was ajar. He motioned for Louisa to look.
She stuck her head into the hall and pulled it back. “Copy room,” she whispered.
Conor motioned her to stay put. He crept to the open door and listened.
“I’m done with you.”
The slurred male voice sounded familiar. Conor pulled out his cell phone and turned it over. He used the silver back of the case as a mirror, angling it to see inside the doorway. Two figures faced each other in front of an industrial copier. Both presented profiles to Conor. Xavier English and Isa Dumont.
Xavier was swaying on his feet.
Isa stood a few feet away from him, her arms akimbo, her attitude petulant. “Is that a threat?”
“Yes,” Xavier spat. “We’re through.”
“How much do you want to keep your job?”
Xavier’s face darkened to impending-stroke red. “You’re a bitch.”
“Yes, but I’m the bitch in charge.” Isa sneered.
“You took advantage of me.”
“I took advantage of you?” She pointed at his chest. Fury radiated from her eyes, her anger hot enough to scorch the reams of paper stacked on shelves behind them. “How can you even say that with a straight face? From my perspective, this is karma. You got yourself into this mess. Try to exercise a little self-control in the future. In the meantime, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
Xavier’s eyes bugged with rage. Isa brushed past him toward the door.
Conor hustled back to Louisa. He held up an in a minute finger and pulled her into the shadowed alcove that led to the restrooms. Isa blew past. A few minutes later, Xavier followed, his steps rushed and uneven. After he passed, at Louisa’s insistence, Conor waited in the alcove while she hurried back to her office for her purse. She returned a minute later, her purse and a file tucked under one arm.
“Come back to my house when you’re finished here,” she said.
“How are you getting home?”
“Damian and his partner are waiting for me in the lobby.”
“OK.”
They returned to the foyer separately. Louisa headed for the lobby while Conor helped the caterer load the truck parked in the alley before walking down to Rittenhouse Square. Louisa must have been waylaid along the way, because he arrived at her apartment right behind the threesome.
In the kitchen, Louisa gave Damian and Mark each a quick hug. “Thanks for the escort home.”
“Anytime.”
Conor took off his jacket and draped it over the back of an island stool. “Is it normal for Xavier to get that drunk?” Conor steered her across the floor.
“No.” Louisa shook her head. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen him act like anything less than a gentleman.”
“Same here,” Damian said. “Not that we’re besties or anything, but I’ve run into him at other functions. His behavior is usually professional.”
Conor snorted. “Alcohol turns some people into asses.” Of course, sometimes booze simply lowered a man’s ability to hide his true nature.
“It was appalling the way people were discussing the murders.” Louisa’s mouth tightened with disgust. “It was almost as if they found gossiping about the case exciting.”
“People suck, honey.” Mark rubbed her arm.
“You know what’s really aggravating and pathetic?” Damian’s eyes shifted to angry. “I reported a teen missing the same day as Zoe Finch disappeared. She was one of the kids in my after-school program. She didn’t get a clip on the news. No one cares what happened to her.”
The sudden burst of temper surprised Conor. “Louisa mentioned that you represent disadvantaged kids.”
Mark wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulder. “He’s trying to open a supervised after-school program for high schoolers in the neighborhood where he grew up. Some of these kids don’t have a safe place to wait until their parents get home.”
“That’s great. Where did you grow up?” Conor asked.
“West Philly.” Damian rattled off a crossroad.
Conor whistled. “Rough area.”
“No kidding.” Damian snorted. “Try being a geeky, undersized teen in that neighborhood fifteen years ago. Every day, walking home from school was like running a gauntlet. Sometimes I’m surprised I made it out alive.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” Mark smiled.
“Time for us to go home.” Damian gave Louisa a peck on the cheek. “You get off those feet and get some rest.”
“Thanks again.” Louisa showed them out and then turned to Conor. “I’m going to change. Once I sit down, I might not get up again.” She limped down the hall.
The dog didn’t follow her mistress back to the bedroom. Conor looked down at the pit bull. Big brown eyes stared up at him expectantly.<
br />
“I’ll walk Kirra.” He took her downstairs for a quick turn around the park. Returning, he checked the fridge. Nothing had appeared while they were gone.
“Did you eat anything tonight?” Conor filled two plastic bags with ice.
“No.”
“Do you want another grilled cheese, or should I make a takeout run?”
“Grilled cheese would be great,” she called from the bedroom. He heard drawers opening and closing, then the soft sound of a zipper. She hadn’t closed the door. Another small sign of trust?
Trying not to picture Louisa undressing, Conor got busy making sandwiches. By the time he was done, the kitchen smelled like browned butter. She reappeared in plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Her hair was down again, tumbling over her shoulders in a blond wave. Conor brought the food into the living room. He moved the coffee table over and pulled an ottoman up to the sofa. Louisa raised her feet and sighed as he settled the two ice packs on her knees.
“Eat before you fall asleep.”
“What could be going on between Xavier and Isa?” She bit into her sandwich and groaned. “God, I could eat this for every meal.”
Her groan made him think about . . . “Could it be sex?”
Louisa wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I guess it’s possible. He wouldn’t be the first professor to sleep with a student.”
Conor finished his food and pushed his plate back. “If they’re sleeping together, what’s the conflict? Is she blackmailing him?”
“She’s doing something.” She shrugged. “But if she’s sleeping with Xavier and blackmailing him, what is she doing with Heath?”
“Good question.” Conor took the empty plates to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. Isa shared an apartment with Zoe. The police had searched their place. But what would a search of Heath’s apartment yield? Inquiring minds wanted to know.
“Could you bring me that file on the counter?” Louisa asked.
He brought the file and the reading glasses she’d left on the counter back to the couch. She put the glasses on and pulled off hot librarian without the suit. Louisa settled back on the cushions, relaxed. She flipped through papers.
Midnight Betrayal Page 18
