скачать книгу бесплатно
“So you knew it was me?”
“Let’s just say I thought it might be. I wasn’t sure you still were Miss Latham.”
No. He wouldn’t be. Not when he had been so distraught over their breaking up that he’d managed to stay single a whole three months.
“Did you come here last night?”
“As soon as I read the report. You were out of it.”
“But you stayed for a while?”
“Yeah. I stayed, until one of the nurses threw me out.”
Lindsey met his gaze, for just an instant, and once again pain pierced her heart. She stared at the muted pattern in the wallpaper, determined not to let Graham invade her life again.
“Are you all right, Lindsey? You look so pale.”
No, she wasn’t all right. She wouldn’t be all right as long as Graham was around, but she would never let him know it.
“I’m fine. And you’re wasting a lot of time sitting here, when you should be out catching the murderer.”
“If there’s a murderer, I’ll catch him. Now, exactly what did you see through that window, Lindsey, besides a soldier and his girlfriend?” he questioned, Sergeant—Friday.
“They were dancing, close together. His hands were around her waist. Hers were wrapped about his neck.”
“And you were able to pick up all these details?”
“Yes, I was on one of the tall floats, above the crowd. The street was narrow, and the house sat close to the sidewalk. Besides, like I told you, the round room jutted out, putting them even closer. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch them.”
“Okay. You had a perfect view, and they were dancing. Then what?”
“It was beautiful. She looked so happy, so much in love. The soldier lowered his lips and kissed her. It seemed to go on forever. His lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her. But then he dropped one hand to his side and began to run his hand along the sheath there.”
Lindsey paused. The room seemed so cold. And the memories so vibrant. “It happened so fast. No one could have stopped it. He just yanked the dagger from out of the sheath and plunged it into her heart.” She fought to steady her voice. “One minute she was lost in his kiss. The next she was crumpling to the floor.”
“It’s Mardi Gras, Lindsey. You remember how it is. The people go crazy. What you saw was probably just an act, a performance for the enjoyment of the crowds outside their window.”
“No!” She wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t people listen? Why wouldn’t they believe her? She’d seen a woman murdered, and all anyone could do was question her story. “It wasn’t an act. The blood was everywhere, gushing, covering the bodice of her green velvet dress.”
“And what was the soldier doing while you watched the woman die?”
“I don’t know. I only remember her. When I noticed him again, he had started to walk away.”
“Started to walk away? What stopped him?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps me. He paused and stared out the window. I was too far away to see his eyes, of course, but his face was turned, as if he were looking straight at me. As if I were part of his deadly conspiracy.”
Her throat was dry now, like cotton. She reached for the glass of water on her table.
Graham beat her to it. He handed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing against her own. She jerked away, frightened by the feelings that accompanied something so meaningless as an incidental touch. She sipped the water slowly, struggling to keep her mind on the task, to keep feelings from the past at bay. She had to concentrate, to remember everything that might lead to the killer’s arrest.
“The float jerked forward then.” She shook her head again, to clear the haze from her thoughts. “I’m not too sure about what happened next. Just that I lost my balance, slid to the side and into Brigit. When I looked up again, there was nothing where the window had been. Nothing but blackness. That’s the last thing I remember.”
Graham stepped closer. “Rounded window on the Minerva route. Neutral ground and ancient oaks,” he muttered, as if to himself. “Uptown. Maybe St. Charles or Napoleon. We’ll check it out, see what we can find. We’ll probably need to get back to you on this, though, when you’re feeling stronger.”
Lindsey jerked to a sitting position, temporarily forgetting her state of undress. She couldn’t believe his lack of concern. She had seen a murder, and she was not going to just stand by while the murderer walked away.
“What do you mean, you’ll get back to me?” she demanded. “No wonder the crime rate’s rising so fast around here! I’m the only one who can recognize that house.” She swung her feet over the side of the bed. “And I’m going with you to look for it!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know what the doctor said. You need your rest.” He moved toward the door. “Besides, your description is adequate. I’m sure I can find the house even without your personal assistance.”
She pushed the call button and slid to the floor, careful to keep her back and the open hospital gown toward the wall.
The voice on the intercom wasted no time in responding. “What can we get for you, Miss Latham?”
“Clothes. And I need them now.”
“But the doctor said you needed rest, and your friend Brigit—”
“It doesn’t matter what the doctor or my friend Brigit said. I’m telling you that I’m walking out of here in the next five minutes with this police officer. It would look a whole lot better for everyone concerned if I did it with my clothes on.”
“Yes, Miss Latham. We’ll bring them at once.”
Graham’s eyes captured her, his dark eyes flashing threateningly. “Clothes or not, Lindsey, you are not going with me.”
“Listen, Graham. I’m not any more excited about spending time with you than you are with me, but we don’t have a choice. I can find that house. You can’t turn down my help. If you do, I’ll call your supervisor, the district attorney, the governor if I have to.”
“And if that doesn’t work, you can always call Daddy.”
Anger fueled Lindsey’s resolve. Daddy. Ten years, and the argument was still the same. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me, Graham. I’m the one who can recognize that house, and one way or another, I am going with you.”
“Suit yourself. I won’t spoil your chance of playing policewoman. But just remember,” he said, stepping out of the way as the nurse entered with her clothes. “Murderers don’t always listen to Daddy.”
Chapter Three
Lindsey stared out the window as she’d done for the past two hours, studying each house, each identifying detail, with the eye of a practiced researcher. She’d been so sure she would recognize the house and the window. But her memories were clouded by the sights and sounds of a Mardi Gras parade.
Everything looked different in the stark light of day. Houses that had appeared magical in the soft glow of artificial lighting now showed signs of cracked and fading paint. Cozy porches and balconies alive with eager spectators were now lonely and imposing. Except for the few stray beads that dangled haphazardly from barren tree limbs and whitewashed porch railings, there was no way to tell that the Krewe of Minerva had ever passed this way.
Maybe she wouldn’t know the house at all. They had passed several with turrets and rounded windows that swung open, but nothing about them had reached out to her. There was always something missing. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that something was. Only that it had been in the picture last night and wasn’t there today.
Graham pulled the unmarked police car to the curb and slowed to a dead stop. He reached for the parade guide and opened it again to the map of the route Minerva had followed last night.
“We’ve been down St. Charles twice, Lindsey. I say we break for lunch. We’re getting nowhere with this. Besides, that last police report confirmed the earlier one. No bodies of blondes found. No young women admitted to the hospital with dagger wounds. Not even a missing-persons report that fits your description.”
Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, she glared out the window. There was nothing to back up her claim, and now she couldn’t even locate the house. A truce of sorts had existed between Graham and her ever since they had left the hospital, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin.
“So, do you want to stop for lunch, or can I drop you off somewhere?”
“Not yet, Graham,” she insisted. “Let’s try once more. And drive slowly. The neutral ground, the trees, even the houses, look right. But something’s different.”
He shook his head in annoyance and spun the car around, heading back up the street.
Lindsey resumed her searching. The house couldn’t have moved overnight. She tried to peer through the tree branches, imagining how things had looked from her perch above the crowd.
“Stop here! In front of the brown brick!”
Graham pulled off the street and parked at the beginning of the driveway. “We studied this house earlier. You said it couldn’t be, that it wasn’t quite right,” he reminded her, his irritation no longer masked.
She jumped from the car, letting the door slam behind her. Graham followed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She ignored him, walking under and past a towering tree, her eyes following the lines of the house, beyond the wraparound balcony on the second floor, to the third-level turret. Her breath caught. This was the image haunting her mind. The perfect couple in an imperfect frame.
“This is the house.”
“You’re sure?”
“Dead sure.” She shuddered at her choice of words. “It was the angle. That’s why I didn’t recognize it before. See? The top of the right shutter is broken off. It was hidden by the tree when we were riding in the car, but from here you can see it clearly, just like I saw it last night.”
“You never mentioned a shutter before.”
“No, I’d forgotten about it. Or maybe it had never registered, except in my mind’s eye.”
“Of course. How could I forget? That photographic memory of yours let you ace every test in high school, while I struggled for Cs.”
Lindsey walked ahead of him, scrutinizing every detail of the house. It stretched out in all directions, almost Gothic in appearance. Vines of ivy climbed the steep walls, and untrimmed branches hung low around the windows.
A sudden gust of wind stirred, chilling her to the bone. But it was more than the temperature that raised goose bumps on her flesh. It was the cold feeling of doom. She took a deep breath and started up the walk.
“Hold on, Lindsey. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t just knock on the door and ask them if they happened to notice any bodies lying around. I’m a detective. These people have rights.”
“Fine. You’re a cop. I’m not. So just get back in your car and you won’t have to worry about your little policeman rules.”
Lindsey took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Graham was a few feet behind her, glaring threateningly. But this was the house. She was sure of it. She walked to the door and pressed her finger firmly against the cold bronze button. By the time the melodic chimes finished their performance, Graham was right behind her.
“Looks like no one’s home,” he offered in the long silence that followed.
Lindsey eyed him suspiciously. “Your relief is obvious. So why did you come to the hospital to question me in the first place, if you had no intention of following up on my story?”
Stepping back, he leaned his muscular frame against the brick column that bordered the steps. He smiled, the same devastating smile she remembered. But something was different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Oh, I intend to follow up, all right. And if there is a murderer, I’ll catch him. You can count on it. But when I get started, I’ll do it the right way.”
She turned back to the door and gave the bell a final attempt. All was quiet. But not still. The curtain at the front window inched sideways.
“And it looks like you’re about to get started,” she quipped.
Graham shot a penetrating look in her direction and stepped in front of her. “Lucky me.”
The door opened slowly, and a tall, thin woman peeked around the edge. She wasn’t old, no more than forty-five or so, but streaks of gray dulled her dark hair, and deep lines had already formed around her mouth and beneath her eyes. The furrows in her brow deepened when Graham presented his badge and an introduction.
“I hope we’re not disturbing you too much, ma’am. I just need to talk to you a minute.”
“What is it, Officer?”
“Just a couple of questions. Someone reported a disturbance in this area last night.”
“You can come in, for a minute. But I doubt if I can be much help. I work here five days a week, but I wasn’t here last night.” A New Orleans accent flavored the woman’s voice.
She motioned them into the massive foyer with a wave of her hand. “My name’s Ruby Oleander. Most people just call me Miss Ruby.”
Graham stepped back to let Lindsey enter in front of him. “And how about the owners of the house? Are they in?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“No. They’re out of the country. In Rome. They have been for three weeks,” she explained, ushering them into the formal living room.
Lindsey took a seat beside the window and listened as Graham proceeded with the questioning, his easy manner quickly putting the suspicious housekeeper at ease.
She had worked for the LeBlancs for twenty years, Miss Ruby explained. And no doubt the LeBlancs could afford to pay her well for her services, Lindsey noted as she studied the opulent surroundings. It was no wonder Miss Ruby took her job as caretaker of the estate so seriously.
The house was furnished in antiques. Authentic, unless she missed her guess. Lindsey’s gaze followed the lines of the marble fireplace down to the hardwood floors that were covered with well-worn but exquisite Persian rugs. It was like visiting a living museum, even down to the smells of age and lingering cigarette smoke.
The place screamed money. No, not screamed, bespoke—elegantly. Apparently old money. Uptown at its finest. The same type of homes many of her high school friends had lived in. But not the way she had lived. Her dad epitomized the flashiness of new wealth. He liked life on the cutting edge, everything new and thoroughly modern.
Lindsey shifted her weight and tried to get comfortable on a period chair designed for women who had nothing more stressful to do than needlepoint.
“This must have been a great place to watch the Minerva parade from,” Graham commented, his tone as relaxed and friendly as if he were chatting with an old friend. “I heard it was impressive for a new krewe. What did you think of it?”
He was pretty smooth. Lindsey would have to give him that. She would have just plunged in herself, demanding to know who was in the house last night. Of course, Miss Ruby would probably have shut up like a clam.
“I didn’t see the parade.”
Miss Ruby’s tone cooled considerably as she responded curtly to Graham’s question and then shut up like a clam. So much for smooth.
Graham flashed her his most dazzling smile. “I didn’t see it, either. Not much of a paradegoer myself. I heard it was nice, though.”
“There’s really nothing I can tell you about last night,” Miss Ruby offered, regaining her composure quickly and sliding back into her friendly-housekeeper role. “You’ll have to ask one of the other neighbors. This house was empty last night, locked up tight.”
Lindsey squirmed about in the chair, determined to keep her mouth shut, even if it killed her. Her agitation did not go unnoticed.
“Could I get you some coffee? Or perhaps a cup of tea, Miss—?”
“Yes, some coffee would be nice.” Lindsey nodded appreciatively at the woman, but decided against providing her name. Especially with Graham intensifying that “keep quiet” look he’d been shooting her way ever since they’d stepped inside the door.
“And you, Detective Dufour?”
“No, nothing for me.”
