A Christmas Kiss

by Caroline Burnes

  "If that's true, that policeman is going to have to answer to Joey." Jolene folded the paper and dropped it on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. She stacked another log in place and signaled Cori to follow her into the kitchen. "How about some French toast? An old recipe of Joey's family."

  "Sure." Since she'd snapped out of her dreamlike state with the arrival of Joey, she was feeling better and even hungry. Since she'd come home to New Orleans she'd found herself eager to eat.

  Before, in Houston, she honestly couldn't remember what she ate from one meal to the next.

  Jolene waved her to the table as she heated the cast iron skillet. "Are you leaving New Orleans today?"

  "I don't know." Cori's answer was honest. "First I'm going to pay a visit on an old friend."

  Jolene dropped the battered bread into the sizzling skillet. "Who might that be?"

  "Danny Dupray."

  The bowl of batter slipped from Jolene's fingers. She caught it before it fell, but a splat of batter sloshed onto the burner of the stove.

  "It's okay," she reassured Cori as she wiped it up and placed the bowl down. "It slipped. How do you know Danny Dupray?"

  "He had a place beside my studio. The Twinkle, a sort of club." Cori couldn't help the distaste that touched her features. "He was always roughing up the girls who worked for him. That's how I met Kit. I called the cops one night when there was a real fight going on. I thought he was going to kill one of the girls." Cori picked up the napkin in front of her and smoothed it on the table. "Kit answered the call. He and Danny had a few words."

  "So what do you think Danny Dupray can do for you?"

  Cori ceased the motion of her hands. "Kit used to go to Danny. For tips and information. Danny always knew a lot of things going on in the city." She picked up the napkin and held it a moment. "I don't have anywhere else to go. The police have given up. I thought maybe Danny might have heard something.

  If I have enough money, maybe he'll tell me."

  "What makes you think Danny Dupray would tell you the truth if you gave him your life savings?"

  Cori looked up at the burst of emotion from Jolene. The redhead was standing at the stove, spatula in hand, face white with fury. "You're playing at a game that kills hard, well-trained men." Jolene shook the spatula. "Danny Dupray is no one to mess with."

  "What do you know about Danny?" Cori was shocked by the change in Jolene.

  "A lot more than I want to. I used to work for him. Until Joey came along and helped me escape."

  Jolene advanced on the table. "Stay away from Danny. I mean it, Cori. If he knew anything about what happened to your husband, he wouldn't tell you. And what he would do is turn around and sell the information about you to someone who might decide to put a bullet right between your eyes."

  Joey stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on?"

  "Cori was talking about visiting Danny Dupray, hoping he'd be charitable and sell her some information about her husband. I was disabusing her of Danny's charitable qualities."

  "How do you know Dupray?" Joey's voice was calm but his eyes were dark and unreadable as he stared into Cori's.

  "The Twinkle was right next door to my studio. It's how I met Kit."

  Joey took the spatula from Jolene's hand and flipped the French toast. "Danny Dupray is one person you're absolutely to stay away from, Cori. He's bad news in a town full of bad news."

  "Did you find anything? Any evidence of Kit?" Cori didn't want to argue with Joey or Jolene about her future plans.

  Joey shook his head. "Nothing clearly identifiable as a footprint. The grass is thick.'' He walked around Cori so she could not see the speculative look he shot her. "Someone could have been outside the window, but there was no effort to gain entry. In fact, there was no need to force his way in. The window was unlocked."

  "The window was locked." Cori held up her hand with the nail broken back to the quick. "I tried to open it. It was locked. And the door, too."

  "I locked the door," Jolene said. She set a plate of steaming French toast before Cori and turned to put more in the pan for Joey.

  "There was nothing outside." Joey hesitated. "But I did find this." He reached inside his jacket and brought out a small plastic bag. It glittered red, green and silver in the sunlight before he dropped it on the table. The chocolate kisses tumbled onto the wood and into the sudden silence of the room.

  Cori reached out and touched them as if they were jewels. "Where did you find them?"

  Joey sat down across from her and leaned forward, anger making his dark eyes hard. "A better question is what kind of game are you playing, Cori?"

  Cori did not draw back from his anger. She picked up one of the chocolates. "Where were they?"

  The slight chill of them told her the answer. "They were in the refrigerator, weren't they?"

  "As if you didn't know." Joey stood up so suddenly his chair scraped against the brick floor with a harsh sound. "What are you trying to pull, Cori? Has DeCarlo suddenly made it worth your while to get out of testifying by acting crazy?"

  "Joey." Jolene tried to put a hand on him, but he shook it off.

  "This has gone too far. I've been chasing my tail here, and I've had enough of it." Joey pointed to the candy. "This is your evidence that a dead man is haunting you. And suddenly I find the candy stash in your own possession. It appears to me, Ms. St. John, that you're leaving the candy trail."

  Cori put the candy carefully on the table. "Yes, it would seem that way." She looked into Joey's eyes, forcing him to calm down enough to look at her. "But that isn't true. I didn't put that candy there."

  "Right." The word was ugly.

  Cori's smile was so out of place that for a moment Joey thought she had lost her mind. He watched as she picked up the candy again.

  "You brought me into the cottage. You dumped my handbag. There were three chocolates in it then, right?"

  "What's your point?" Joey was still furious.

  "My point is that there were three pieces of candy there. Nothing else in the bag. I had no luggage.

  My sweater has no pockets. Where did I carry this candy? I don't have a car to go buy any." She looked at Jolene. "Maybe you should check your house to see if I slipped in here during the night and stole chocolate kisses from you."

  Joey recognized the truth she spoke. There had been no way for her to get the chocolates into the cottage. "What in the hell is going on here?"

  "That's exactly what I intend to find out." Cori spoke softly, without anger. "It isn't fun to be part of someone's game." She looked up at him. "I don't know what's going on, Joey, but I swear to you that I'm not doing any of this."

  Jolene put the French toast in front of Joey, a plate stacked three slices high. "Just to set the record straight, I don't keep chocolate in the house. Too fond of it for my own good. Now, you two better eat.

  I've got to go to work, and I'm afraid you have other problems, Joey." She retrieved the newspaper and put it down in front of him.

  "Oh, no." Joey slapped the story with his hand. "How did they get this?" He didn't expect an answer, so he was startled when Cori spoke.

  "From that Officer Lewis, I'd bet."

  Joey scanned the story, then looked at Cori. She looked sensible. "I'm sorry," he said. "I have to be honest, though. I'm not certain what to believe where this candy is concerned."

  Cori thought she should be furious, but she wasn't. "It's okay. I don't know what I believe, either. All I do know is that candy didn't go in that cottage with me. Either it was there before I arrived, or someone put it there while I was out in the yard looking for Kit."

  "Did you go back to the cottage?" Joey asked.

  "No, I brought her here. She was... disoriented." Jolene sat down with her French toast and poured on some syrup. "I didn't check the lock on the cottage door, but I'm assuming Cori left it unlocked.

  Someone could have gone in while we were in here."

  "And opened the window," Cori insisted. "It was lock
ed."

  "Why, though?"

  Cori knew this answer. "There are three possibilities. Kit is alive, which no one believes but me.

  Number two, someone wants to make me believe Kit is alive. Or someone wants to make me believe I'm losing my mind."

  Joey nodded. "I'll vote for number two. The only thing I don't know is why. What possible good would it do to make you believe your husband is alive?"

  Jolene put down her fork. "Possibly to use as blackmail to prevent her from testifying at the retrial."

  The answer was so obvious that Joey slapped his forehead. "It could be, Jolene. It could be." He furrowed his brow. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

  "You forget, Joey, I spent fifteen years working around lowlifes like Danny Dupray. I watched the wheels spin in their heads all day and all night, figuring the odds, calculating how they could use someone for personal gain. This sounds exactly like something he would cook up—for a substantial amount of money."

  Joey turned to Cori. "You said Kit and Danny knew each other, that Danny was Kit's snitch?"

  "In some cases." Cori thought back. She'd hated Danny Dupray, but it was a convenient source for Kit. Sometimes when Cori was caught late at the studio, Kit would check in with Danny to see if he had any good leads. There were times Danny would sell him something good, something that resulted in a big arrest or gave Kit the missing link in a case.

  "Sometimes a snitch gathers a lot of information on the guy he's ratting to." Joey knew the dirty inside business of law enforcement would leave an honest citizen with a bad taste in his mouth. Like it or not, though, to get the truth sometimes an officer had to go through some pretty despicable people. "How often did Kit and Danny meet?"

  "Twice a week." Cori shrugged. "Kit never liked to tell me much about his work. He didn't want me... tainted by the people he had to associate with." She suddenly remembered something. "But it was odd that Danny sent us a wedding present."

  Joey felt the skin tighten near his hairline. It was indeed strange that a snitch would show enough finesse to send a wedding gift to a cop.

  "What did he send?" Jolene asked, her contempt evident.

  "A case of champagne. Good champagne, not cheap. An entire case. He had it delivered to...my..

  .home." Eyes widened with fear, she looked at Joey. "Kit must have given him my home address."

  "Maybe not." The more Joey heard, the less he liked Kit Wells and his method of doing police business. Surely he hadn't been foolish enough to do such a thing. "Maybe Danny just found out. I mean, the wedding was in the public square. You had a studio. You've lived there, you know the Quarter is like a neighborhood. People know a lot more of one another's business than you'd expect. Did you have a listed phone?"

  "Unlisted." Cori looked at Jolene. "Artists call at all times of the day and night. Before a show, they lose their awareness of time or anything except their own insecurities. Unlisted is the only way to live."

  Jolene got up and took her plate to the sink. "Danny could find an address. It wouldn't be hard at all.

  The question is why would he want to? Why not carry the gift next door to the studio? Why not give it to Kit when he was there? Why go to all that trouble and then have to pay extra to have it delivered?"

  "Those are all really good questions." Joey pushed his plate back, too. "Ones I think Danny should answer."

  Cori stood up. "I'm ready whenever you are."

  "You're absolutely not going to the Twinkle with me."

  Cori didn't back down an inch. For the first time in two years someone was asking questions that might lead to finding Kit. She had no intention of missing any part of it. "You can't leave me here alone.

  Whether you believe it or not, someone was in the side yard. Someone who was my husband or who wanted me to believe was my husband. Either way, someone knows I'm here. You can't leave me alone."

  "No, but I can take you to the precinct headquarters and have your butt locked up for your own protection."

  "They won't hold a person they think is crazy." Cori wanted to buckle under Joey's angry glare, but she'd buckled too many times in the past. "Besides, I'm out of the program. I quit, remember?"

  Jolene slipped out of the room to get dressed for work and left them to fight it out between themselves. Neither of them saw the grin on her face as she hurried down the hallway to her bathroom.

  "Witness or not, you aren't going to see that sleaze ball with me. Dupray is a very dangerous man."

  "I'm not staying here."

  For the first time Joey was aware of the flannel nightshirt she wore. It was red plaid and it came just past her thighs. Jolene had given her a pair of red knee socks to wear after she'd gone outside in her bare feet. He couldn't help the grin that touched his dusty features. "You're not dressed for the Twinkle. Or perhaps I should say you're overdressed."

  Cori felt a sweep of embarrassment. The nightshirt certainly wasn't provocative or even slightly sexy.

  It was just the fact that it was night wear and Joey was staring at her. "I'll change," she said stiffly. "The Twinkle won't be open until lunch. I used to work beside it," she reminded him.

  "You can ride with me, but you're going to wait someplace safe," Joey warned her.

  "Fine." Cori got up.

  "I put your bag in the cottage." Joey rose, too. "Let me make sure there's no one there." He wasn't sure what he believed about the candy, but he was not taking another single chance with Cori St. John.

  Things happened around her. Extraordinary things. Like double murders and disappearing husbands.

  Before he could get out of the kitchen the telephone rang. He could hear Jolene's shower running so he picked up the receiver.

  "Chez Jolene," he said.

  "I'm looking for Joey Tio," a male voice said.

  "You've got him." Joey was instantly alert. No one should know where he was. No one.

  "This is Farris Quinn from the Times-Picayune. I understand you can tell me how to get in touch with Brently Gleason."

  "Who?" Joey was taken aback.

  "One of the eyewitnesses in the Ben DeCarlo double homicide trial. If you haven't seen the paper this morning, we had a shot of her in the French Quarter. She's in town and we want to know why."

  "This isn't a good story." The very idea was deadly.

  "Look, Mr. Tio, we've got one eyewitness back in New Orleans murdered. Then Ms. Gleason is spotted in some fracas in the French Quarter. We've talked to several witnesses, and what we're getting is a very, very interesting story. Something about her dead husband."

  "Ms. Gleason is a protected witness. Any stories about her could jeopardize her life." Joey tried to think of some threat he could use, but none came to mind.

  "It would seem she violated her agreement by returning to New Orleans, unless there's some secret meetings going on with the district attorney. We know the D.A., Travis Shanahan, is determined to see DeCarlo remain behind bars, no matter what it takes. Are there some strategy sessions going on here that involve the original witnesses? Or should I say, what's left of them?"

  "What did you say your name was?" Joey stalled. The reporter had caught him flat-footed.

  "Farris Quinn."

  "How did you get this number, Mr. Quinn?" He saw Cori start. She recognized the name from the morning paper.

  "We don't reveal our sources. Is there something going on with the prosecution of DeCarlo? Some new angle?"

  "I have no comment. But I have to know where you got this number."

  "Good investigative reporting, Mr. Tio, and Ms. Gleason hasn't exactly been subtle. That was quite a stir she caused yesterday. I understand no charges were filed."

  Joey knew he was walking through a mine field. The worst possible thing for Cori would be additional press. But Farris Quinn bad a legal right to print whatever he could dig up. Consequences weren't the province of a free press.

  "Quinn, the witness's life may be in jeopardy." He put it out there. The silence told him that he'd str
uck his target.

  "That has to do with your job, Tio. My job is to print the news."

  Joey liked the defensiveness he clearly heard. Farris Quinn was a man who took his job—and its consequences—seriously. "You know the DeCarlo trial comes up in a few weeks. This witness is vital.

  There are compelling reasons for her to be in New Orleans, which I can't reveal. But I do promise you, as soon as I can, I'll let you know the details."

  "I don't know that that's good enough."

  "It's all I can promise."

  "I've been told by other reporters that you're good for your word."

  "I do the best I can." Joey felt that maybe, just maybe, he'd made it through the mine field without getting blown up. Of course, the boundaries of such a thing were never clear. There could always be one hidden bomb___

  "Will you answer one question?"

  "If I can."

  "Is the witness here because she thinks her husband is still alive? You know there was never any evidence found that Kit Wells was murdered. Has something new broken in that investigation?"

  Joey took a deep breath. "Off the record I can tell you there is absolutely no new information in the murder investigation of Kit Wells. Nothing at all. But it would greatly damage the witness if that issue was raised in print."

  Farris sensed the hint of a story. "But if there is some new development, you'll call me with the facts, right?"

  "You have my word," Joey said. He pulled a pen from his pocket and asked for the reporter's home number.

  "Don't disappoint me, Tio," Farris said by way of goodbye.

  Joey replaced the receiver and turned to Cori. "There's a leak as big as a fire hydrant in the NOPD.

  If you want to live, you'll stop calling there, and you'll stay as far away from Blake as you can." The barely controlled anger in his voice crackled. "Whatever harebrained scheme you've cooked up for finding Kit, you can forget it. If you want to continue to breathe."

  Chapter Six

  By the time Cori had showered and dressed, Joey's hot temper had cooled. His anger was at the loose-lipped police officers who were either giving information to the press, or worse yet, selling it. But Cori had caught the brunt of it because her life was at risk—a fact she simply refused to accept.