“Well, hello there,” a deep voice called out, intruding on my thoughts.
I careened my head around to look down the short alleyway that lead to the street entrance. There, standing in front of the old iron gate, was Greg Caston.
My throat tightened. “Greg?” I stood from the chair. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to call.” I approached the dark alley.
“I wanted to see you again.” He held up a white bag in his hands. “I figured you might be hungry so I brought beignets from Café Du Monde.”
I walked down the short alley and opened the heavy gate. “I’m flattered Greg, but I’m really not comfortable with you just dropping by whenever you like,” I explained as I glanced around the street, feeling suddenly vulnerable without Dallas close by.
He put his hand on the gate, pushed it open, and took a step inside.
I was taken aback by his brazenness, and was about to reprimand him, when I suddenly remembered David’s plans and of everything that he had riding on Caston.
I moved away from the gate. “Won’t you come in,” I said as I waved him inside.
Greg smiled as he came up to me. “I’m so glad I caught you at home.”
He was dressed in a tailored black suit that flattered his trim figure. But in the light of day Greg Caston appeared older than I had observed at the party. His face was worn, wrinkled, and sallow. It was more like the face of someone who had worked hard for his living, and not the artistically sophisticated playboy he pretended to be. Like Dorian Gray and his revealing portrait, Greg Caston’s seedy endeavors were etched in the lines and hollows of his face.
I raised my head and stepped back from him. “Thank you for the beignets.” I took the white bag from his hand. “I was just having a cup of coffee in the courtyard before going back to work on my book,” I said, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt.
His eyes lit up. “Ah, the next Nicci Beauvoir novel. I hear there’s another set to hit the bookstores very soon.”
I nodded. “It’s called Unfinished Business and it comes out next month. But my publisher is anxious to get his hands on the rough draft of my next novel before I begin the book tour. In the publishing world you have to always be planning ahead to your next book.”
Greg laughed. “Harold Hamper always was a demanding SOB.”
“I take it you know Harold,” I remarked as I started back toward the courtyard.
“We shared an interest in the same woman once. She was a model for a well-known agency in New York. Harold wanted her, but I got her,” Greg recounted behind me.
I stopped and turned to him, feeling a little repulsed at how casually he had described his conquest of the woman. “And what did the model get?” I asked, smiling insipidly.
“My undying gratitude,” he answered. “And a house in East Hampton.”
I shrugged. “Then perhaps it wasn’t a total waste of time for the model.”
He smiled, appearing more intrigued than amused. “You’re very feisty, Nicci.”
I walked over to the table and put the bag of beignets down. I picked up my mug of coffee and refrained from meeting Greg’s inquisitive stare. “Animals caught in traps are feisty. I prefer to think of myself as candid,” I stated as I took a seat at the table.
He pulled out the chair across from me. “Well, I find it very refreshing.”
I held my coffee mug to my lips. “I’m so glad.”
Greg motioned to the bag of beignets. “Aren’t you going to try one?”
I shook my head. “Perhaps later.”
“They’re the best when right out of the fryer.” He leaned in closer to me. “But everything is better when served hot. People included.” He grinned and let his eyes momentarily hover over my bust line.
I gave him my best condescending gaze and then took another sip from my coffee mug.
He sat back in his chair, frowning with frustration. “I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better this morning and be able to talk away from the prying eyes of half the art crowd in the city.”
“And are the prying eyes of half the city always on you?”
He leaned in closer to the table. “Sometimes. But considering my business, I’m used to it.”
“The art business?” I inquired, raising my eyebrows.
He folded his arms across his chest as he stared at me with his dark eyes. “Being around Dallas August must have given you some insight into what it is I do.”
“And how would you know of my involvement with him?”
“I have heard that right after you killed that psychiatrist, you and August withdrew to Connecticut and were living together. He was building boats and you were writing books. Imagine my surprise to find only you and Simon at the benefit last night.”
“Dallas August and I parted company a few days ago.”
“May I ask why?”
“I don’t like boats.”
“So I shouldn’t worry about the former prized possession of Simon La Roy putting a knife in my back.”
I fought to keep the look of cool indifference on my face. “I can assure you, Dallas August is no longer my concern.” I took another sip of my coffee while trying to avoid the man’s eyes. I placed the mug on the wrought iron table before me and squared my shoulders. “If you wanted to talk, Greg, you should have called and we could have set up a more convenient time for such a meeting. You cannot just drop by and expect me to tell you all of my secrets.”
His eyes immediately lit up with curiosity. “I would love to hear all about your secrets, Nicci.”
I stood from my chair, feeling my tolerance growing thin with the persistent Mr. Caston. “What time will you be collecting me tomorrow tonight?” I inquired, fighting to keep my voice free of my mounting impatience.
He stood and nodded his head. “I’ll pick you up at seven thirty. The event is scheduled to begin at eight.” He paused as he stepped away from the table. “Tomorrow I have something very special to show you. Something I know you will appreciate.”
“Well then, I look forward to our evening together. But in the meantime, Greg, I must get back to my book.” I motioned to the gate.
He smiled sheepishly. “Yes, of course. Forgive me.” He began to make his way across the courtyard. “I think you and I may have a great deal in common, Nicci,” he remarked over his shoulder.
I tried not to laugh as I walked behind him. “Really? And what would we have in common?”
He stopped and turned to me. “We’re both fighters. We’ve been struggling for respect all of lives. You’ve been fighting to be seen as something other than another beautiful face. And I’ve been fighting for people to see me as more than just another rich man’s son. To see me for what I truly am.”
“And what are you, Greg?”
A devilish grin spread across his lips, highlighting the darkness of his eyes. “I think I’ll let you discover that on your own, Nicci.” He leaned over to me and whispered, “Think of how much fun that will be for both of us.”
I leaned back from him and kept my disgust for the man hidden behind my cool demeanor. “Thank you for the beignets. Until tomorrow,” I said as I waved once more to the gate.
“Yes, until then.” He turned and headed toward the street.
I watched as the despicable man quickly walked down the alley. Once at the gate, he turned back to me and smiled. I waited until he pulled the gate closed behind him before I let all of the tension inside of me escape through my pursed lips. I took in breath after breath as I tried to relax my body. But just as I was beginning to feel comfortable in my skin again, the gate screeched open. I looked up to see Dallas marching into the courtyard.
“What in the hell was Caston doing here?” he called out. “I came up and saw you two sitting together. I had to wait outside until he left.”
I waved at the white bag on the table behind me. “He showed up with a bag of beignets. Claimed he wanted to talk and get to know me better.”
&n
bsp; Dallas walked up to me. “And what did you tell him?”
“That I had to get back to work on my book and if he wanted to get to know me he should have called and scheduled an appointment.”
“I bet he didn’t like hearing that.”
I turned away from him, “No, he didn’t. But I think I made it clear that he couldn’t just drop by whenever he felt like it.”
“Good.” Dallas grunted and moved toward the rear entrance of the house.
“How did it go with David?” I nervously asked.
He stopped and I watched as his back stiffened before me. “How do you think it went, Nicci?” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “It was difficult as hell for both of us,” he mumbled.
He turned to me and I saw the tension of the meeting written all over his face. I could only imagine how it must have been for two old friends, both in love with the same woman, to have to face each other again.
“At least tell me no punches were thrown,” I joked, trying to lighten his mood.
“No, it was good to see him. Very good to see him.” He smiled a little and his face relaxed. “We talked about what had happened to him. He explained his injuries to me and how much he has gone through to get where he is.”
My lower lip trembled. David had confided in Dallas things I felt he should have shared with me. The momentary feeling of rejection jarred me.
“He wouldn’t tell me about any of that. He said he didn’t want me to pity him.” I paused as I placed my hand on his arm. “Please, tell me what he said. I have to know.”
Dallas gave me a concerned glance and then he sighed. “All right, Nicci.” he began as he eyed the garden walls. “The bullet entered his left upper cheek and existed through his lower jaw. Luckily, it completely missed his brain. The nerve damage from the gunshot wound left him with little feeling in his left cheek and the doctors told him that will probably never come back. They had to reconstruct his cheekbone and jaw with pieces of his rib. He said that took eight surgeries to complete because they had to do it in stages. He spent almost three months with a tracheostomy and six months with his jaw wired shut. He told me he had lost a great deal of weight, which he has started regaining. But the tooth implants in his mouth are pretty new and he still has some trouble chewing. Short of some scars, and the hearing loss in his left ear, he has come through it pretty well.”
I was heartbroken by the depths of David’s suffering. The sickening sense of loss I had known when I first learned of his death three years ago returned to me. I felt as if I had been transported back in time to the moment when a police officer stood outside of my front door and calmly informed me of the shooting.
“We also discussed what we need to do about Simon,” Dallas stated, tearing me away from my memories.
I shook myself out of my stupor. “And what did you decide?”
Dallas turned away from me. “That we may be able to use your relationship with Caston to help convince him to eliminate Simon.”
“And David agreed to that?” I asked astounded that I was to be a part of their plans.
“He didn’t have to agree, Nicci. It was his idea.” When he turned back to me his eyes were as cold as ice. “With Simon dead, the organization is going to need someone to keep operations going. So David and I are going to become partners. I will run the organization until things can be squared away.”
I stared at him, feeling more than just a little dismayed by his disclosure. “What do you mean you’re going to run the organization? You’re not going to go back to your family’s boatyard? What about your Uncle Elliot? He was counting on you to take over the business.”
“He’ll understand. It won’t be forever. Once David and I can get Simon’s affairs settled, I can return to the boatyard.”
“But how long will it take to settle Simon’s affairs? Are we going to have to relocate to New York?”
Dallas took in the garden walls, avoiding my questioning gaze. “You won’t be going to New York with me, Nicci. It will be too dangerous. Until things are squared away, you will need stay in New Orleans where it’s safe.”
I stared at his profile as I tried to decipher the truth behind the lies he was telling me. “How can expect me to just put our life together on hold? I don’t understand any of this, Dallas. I thought you were happy building boats in Connecticut.”
He turned and his eyes met mine. “Nicci, I was happy for a time. But you and I both know I’m not a boat builder. Balancing ledgers and kissing ass to a bunch of rich people, who don’t know one end of a boat from the other, was never my thing.”
I threw my hands in the air. “So you weren’t happy building boats. That’s no excuse to return to the kind of life you had with Simon. There are other options, Dallas.”
He shook his head. “Not for me. I had forgotten how alive an assignment used to make me feel until I shadowed you at the party last night.” He paused and gave a heavy sigh. “I need this, Nicci. I need to feel useful again,” he whispered.
He had missed former life. And I had noticed. I had always blamed his short temper and moody outbursts on our moving in together and trying to find our rhythm as a couple. But as I thought back on our brief time in Connecticut, the distant looks and sleepless nights he had often exhibited could only be attributed to one thing. Like a caged animal longing for the freedom of the open wild, Dallas was losing his battle to put his past behind him. The months he had spent away from his former profession had only frustrated and not pacified him. All the years he had devoted to the FBI, and working for Simon La Roy as an elite purveyor of secrets, had made him someone who could never be fulfilled by an ordinary life. The realization brought a strange sense of comfort to me. In a way it was a relief to know my head had finally begun to comprehend something my heart had felt all along.
As I pondered the intrigue to come, I felt my body sink as if it were suddenly burdened with an unbearable weight. “What happens if this plan to eliminate Simon doesn’t work, Dallas? What will we do then?”
“You already know the answer to that question, Nicci. I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you. If the three of us need to disappear quickly, you’d better be ready.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the silver key I had given him earlier. “This belongs to you,” he said as he handed me the key. “If you have to go to David’s, at least tell me first. I know I can’t keep you from seeing him, but you’re going to have to be very careful about being followed. We need to protect his whereabouts for as long as possible.” He turned and walked inside of the house.
I stood holding the silver key in my hand, feeling more confused than ever. My happiness paled against my growing apprehension for our ability to survive this game of cat and mouse. Suddenly, I thought of my family. The idea of Simon hurting my father or my uncle for revenge against me made my already quivering resolve crumble. I could not let my family suffer for my choices. They had been through enough. I needed reassurance that all measures would be taken to spare my father and uncle from any more heartache. I closed my fist around the key and headed toward the house.
Chapter Twelve
“So what’s this all about, kid?” Uncle Lance asked as we sat down to brunch in the main dining room of the Court of Two Sisters Restaurant the following morning.
I gazed around the nearly empty dining room. Rows of tables were compactly arranged on the shiny black and white tiled floor. At the entrance, a group of busboys chatted with each other as they waited for the hungry diners to arrive. I looked back at my uncle. He was dressed in a casual double-breasted gray suit and black tie. His brown hair was sleeked back and he smelled of some exotic cologne. As I stared across the white linen tablecloth into my uncle’s green eyes, I struggled to find just the right words to explain why I had requested the emergency meeting.
“I need to know,” I began. “Well, I don’t need to know but…could you do something for me?”
Uncle Lance raised his dark eyebrows at me. “Is something
wrong?”
“Not wrong.” I reached over to the table and nervously played with my fork. “You remember last Christmas when I brought Dallas home.” I glanced up at my uncle.
He nodded warily.
“And after you and Dad learned why he had returned home with me, I told you about David’s former boss, Simon La Roy. Well, Simon contacted me a few days ago. He’s in town and—”
“Does this have anything to do with why you were seen with Greg Caston at that Katrina benefit last night?” Uncle Lance interrupted.
My mouth fell open. “How did you know about that?”
He laughed. “Nicci, have you forgotten what a small town this is? I got three phone calls about you, Caston, and La Roy at that shindig the other night.” Uncle Lance gave a low whistle. “Please tell me you’re not involved with that horse thief Caston,” he implored.
“No, I was introduced to him by Simon La Roy. It seems there are some forged paintings of David’s floating around the art market and Simon thinks Caston may be involved.”
“I can see why La Roy called you. Caston’s had an obsession with you ever since David’s paintings hit the main stream. He wanted me to introduce you to him two years back.”
I folded my arms over my chest and glared at my uncle. “You know him?”
Uncle Lance nodded. “Yeah, we play cards together. He cheats. A lot.”
I shook my head. “Uncle Lance, next time I try to pull off any kind of covert operation in this town remind me to check with you first.”
Uncle Lance chuckled. “Kid, this is N’awlins. Everybody knows everybody down here. And if you hang out with shady characters, like I’m prone to do, then this city gets a whole lot smaller.” His eyes narrowed on mine. “Was Dallas with you at that benefit last night?” he inquired.
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