French Quarter (36 page)

Thirty-one

“Eat,” Wilson said. “You’re too pale, darlin’.”

Celina kept her eyes on the door, waiting for her parents to come back. They’d been called to the phone but if, as they’d promised, they were going to return, they should have come by now.

“I’m talkin’ to you, Celina,” Wilson said. “People are bound to look at us. Let’s not give them anythin’ to gossip about—not anythin’ I haven’t planned on.”

She gave him her full attention. “What exactly did you plan on?”

“I’m just pavin’ the way. Makes sense, doesn’t it? You are my rock in difficult times. You stand by me and become my aide, my hostess when my wife cheats on me at the time I need her most. The sooner people start to see how you’re standin’ by me, and how I’m turnin’ to you despite the fact that it’s your brother, the priest, who cuckolded me, well, you can see how that’s goin’ to play out. I’m a forgivin’ man with a big heart, and you’re a strong woman ready to face criticism of your beloved brother to try to make things right.

“It’s perfect, honey. You’re exactly what I’ve always needed. Beautiful, naturally sexy but demure, one hundred percent on my team. We’re goin’ to be invincible, Celina baby, and you’re never goin’ to regret seein’ things my way.”

Not a single word would reach her tongue, not a word that made any sense. The man was mad. Deluded, and crazed by his ego and ambition.

“Do you like the roses?”

She looked at them. “Red roses,” she said, feeling foolish.

“They’re for you. A sign of what I feel for you. And the gardenias.” He took one from the bowl, shook off the moisture, and put it into his buttonhole. “That night—you know the night I mean. That night your skin smelled like gardenias. Ever since I’ve kept gardenias around the house to remind me of you. Your skin is soft like this too.” He caressed the flower he wore on his lapel. “Soft and dewy. Velvet ready to open for the right man—for me.”

Nausea overwhelmed Celina. She made to get up, but his hand on hers kept her seated.

“Sally was never right for me. Too obvious. “Too oversexed. She could never be satisfied with one man, even a man every woman wanted. You’ll never have to doubt me, Celina. I’m going to be faithful to you. Of course, we’ll have to be discreet for a while, but soon enough—when I’ve finished with Sally—the people will be ready and willing to see me with you at my side permanently.”

“Please let me go.”

“She can’t have children,” he said. “Sally. She never got pregnant, and it wasn’t for lack of tryin’.” His smile lifted his upper lip and his eyelids lowered a fraction. This was his fiction and he’d come to believe it all absolutely.

“My parents will be back any moment. Ι don’t think we should continue this conversation.” She dared not risk making him lose his temper when she had no idea what he might do. “You have a lot of contacts. Have you heard anything new about Errol?”

“No. Put that out of your mind.” He laughed. “You know Bitsy and Neville aren’t comin’ back here, Celina. You’re too smart not to know. I gave your daddy a little spendin’ money, enough to keep the two of them busy for a few days anyway.”

She’d known Wilson had given her father money. “What was the money for?” she whispered.

He trapped her hand again, composed his face into a tragic mask, and said, “Why, for deliverin’ you, of course. Somethin’ biblical in that, don’t you think? Well, perhaps not. But your mama and daddy have earned their livin’ for years by providin’ what other people want and can’t get without them. They’re good at it. I wanted you today, and it wouldn’t have been nearly as easy if I hadn’t had dear Neville and Bitsy to bring you here.”

She felt wild. Her own mother and stepfather had taken money to get her here? The anger must be controlled or it would destroy her. If she weren’t so angry, she’d be sad. “Wilson, the first thing I want you to understand is that my brother is not having an affair with Sally. Sally asked him to help her because she’s troubled. He went to meet her at the Maison de Ville. I will back him up—I’ll back both of them up on that story if necessary. I will not allow you to drag my brother’s good name—his
pure
name—through the mud.”

Wilson compressed his lips.

“The second thing I want is for you to allow me to leave this restaurant. Quietly and with a minimum of fuss. I can’t afford scandal any more than you can. I’ll deal with my parents later.”

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere unless you go there with me.”

“Let me go.”

“I’m divorcin’ Sally. I want you to marry me.”

Her eyes felt filled with sand and as if the lids were too short to close.

“Not immediately, you understand, but as soon as seems prudent. I’ll be good for you, Celina. And you are goin’ to be so good for me. We already know that, don’t we?” His eyes flickered to her breasts, and back to her mouth. “We are very good. The best sex I ever had was with you.”

Rape.
The best sex he’d ever had was rape.

“I love you, Celina. I’ve loved you for years. When you were in those contests I hated it that other men looked at you, but that was your mother, not you. It was her fault, her ambition, and it’s over. You’re all mine now.”

“Wilson, I have to go.”

“Not now, Celina. We’ve got plans to make. And the beauty of it is that we’re makin’ them right here in front of the cream of New Orleans society. They’re pityin’ me, and thinkin’ what a kind woman you are. We’re goin’ to travel together. I want to do an old-fashioned whistle-stop tour through the state with you in the background. You’ll make sure everythin’ runs like silk. And at the end of the day you’re goin’ to be silk in my arms, honey, and silk between my legs.”

“Stop
it,” she hissed. “Stop it now, before you disgrace yourself in front of everyone.”

He laughed, but quickly covered his mouth. “You think I can’t control myself better than that? It’s been a very long time since I jacked off if I didn’t want to, baby.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Not until we know when you’re comin’ to me. Oh, Celina, we’re goin’ to have it all. Give it six months and we’ll get married. After the elections. But that doesn’t mean we’ve got to be on a diet in the meantime. Baby girl, I’ve relived that night again and again, and I can’t wait any longer to take you like that again.”

“You raped me.” She fell back in her chair, staring, her vision blurring.

His face came toward her across the table. He frowned. “Nο such thing. What happened was what you asked for. You wanted to be taken by force and I obliged. You loved it, Celina. You’re that kind of woman. Cool on the outside and running, hot cream on the inside. Oh, baby, I want to lap up that cream.”

“You disgust me.” She got up. “Don’t try to contact me again—ever.”

Wilson smiled up at her. “Sit down, sweetheart. Maybe I came on a bit strong, but you are like a drug in my blood, and I haven’t had a fix for a very long time.”

“Good-bye.”

“Good-bye?
Sit down.”
As if he’d forgotten his audience, he caught her forearm and jerked her down into the chair again. “You can’t afford to do anythin’ I don’t want you t’do. Do you understand? I made you mine that night. I bound you to me. Try to get away and I tell the world that little Miss Louisiana tried to advance herself by hitchin’ her wagon to a future senator, then tried to capitalize by comin’ on to him when his wife started playin’ around on him.”

She closed her eyes and stroked her stomach. This little one was no part of this man other than through the small accident of his sperm. She would never let her child know who her father was. No, she would make her baby all her own, and Wilson Lamar could say what he liked about her.

Slowly a pool of silence formed around her, and she grew calmer. Opening her eyes, she reached for some water and drank deeply, and met Wilson’s blue eyes, his hard and horrified blue eyes.

Celina set down her glass.

He settled an unyielding hand on her wrist. Very, very softly, his voice like thin steel, he said, “You’re pregnant.”

She felt the color drain from her face.

“My God. You little fool. You’re pregnant. You got pregnant by me and you didn’t do anything about it. What the hell are you trying to do—ruin me?”

Her mind scrambled. “Ruin you? Why would my pregnancy ruin you? It’s nothing to do with you.”

“It’s my baby, isn’t it? I always knew it was Sally’s fault we never had children. I always thought there were children who had my blood in their veins but I never knew about them. That’s my baby, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?”

“No.
No.”

“Don’t lie to me, you little slut.”

She gasped, and the tears that seemed part of her condition sprang into her eyes. “This is my baby, Wilson, not yours. Understand that? My baby.”

“Oh, surely. Your baby. How interesting that it must have been conceived around the time I took you. Oh, no, my dear, you’re going to do exactly as I tell you. I’ve made a lot of plans for us, and you’re not going to ruin them now. I’ve taken risks because of you. I have to have you, and no brat is going to spoil that until I’m ready to trot out the obligatory offspring. The time is wrong, all wrong.”

“Stop it, please. You’re frightening me.”

“Good.” He pasted on a smile and poured more champagne into her still-full glass. “Pick that up and smile at me before you drink.”

She ignored him.

His fingers dug into her wrist. “Pick it up.”

“You can twist my hand off, Wilson.” She felt suddenly calm again. “Pregnant women aren’t supposed to drink and, as you’ve noted, I’m a pregnant woman. What risks have you taken because of me?”

“Forget that. You have to have an abortion.” He spoke so softly, she had to strain to hear, and what he’d just said rendered her speechless.
“I knew about a clinic.
Out of the state. Very discreet. No problem made about what month you’re in. I can’t risk going with you myself, but Ben will do it. I own him. He’ll do whatever I tell him to do.”

She opened her mouth in an attempt to get more air into her lungs.

“First thing in the morning you’ll go. The arrangements will be made just as soon as I get back to my office.”

“Well, I found you, Celina.”

Jack’s voice flowed over her like a sweet, cooling wind. She looked up into his face, into his clear green eyes, and saw him frown.

“As I live and breathe,” Wilson Lamar said. “Jack Charbonnet. This is a private party, Charbonnet, and you aren’t invited.”

“Jack,” she said faintly.

He pulled a chair close beside her and sat down. Ignoring Lamar, he studied her face. “Something’s wrong, Celina. What’s happenin’ here?”

“Either you leave, or I have you thrown out,” Wilson babbled. “I don’t know why they let your kind in here.”

“Possibly because they like to encourage gentlemen,” Jack said. “Celina?”

“I’m okay, but I’d like to leave now.” She looked at Wilson’s hand on her wrist.

Jack looked too and said, “Get your fingers off my fiancée, Lamar, or I’ll take them off and you may never use them again.”

“Celina and I are having a discussion and—” Wilson stopped talking but his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

“Not anymore,” Jack said. “We’re getting married on Friday, and we’re very busy makin’ our arrangements, so, if you’ll excuse us.”

“The hell I will,” Wilson ground out. “I suppose you’re going to tell me she’s carryin’ your baby. Or are you just so damned desperate to marry your way to respectability that you don’t care if she makes a fool of you with another man’s child.”

Jack’s fist drew back.

Celina threw her free arm across him, knocking a full glass to the floor. “Oh, my, would you look what I’ve done.” She leaped up. “I am just so clumsy sometimes. I’ll get someone to clean that up, Wilson. You just go right ahead and finish your meal. It’s been so nice to visit with you.”

Jack was also on his feet. He went to Wilson’s side and bent so that only the man and Celina could hear him. “You are going to pay for insultin’ this woman,” he said. “My future wife. Just think about that.”

“Oh, I will,” Wilson said, the flare in his eyes suggestive of madness. “I will think about it, and while I do, you think about how she egged me on. How she forced sex on me when I was drunk. You won’t be so quick to marry her then. And just in case you don’t know, that baby you’re goin’ to pretend is yours is mine, Jacko. It has to be, unless she found some other schmuck to play her rough sex games at just about the right time.”

Jack grabbed Wilson by the collar and yanked him to his feet.
“Υou?”
he said. “It was
you?”

“Don’t,” Celina begged. “Not here, please. Let him go, Jack.”

Wilson’s face had lost all color. He grappled with Jack’s hand at his neck.

Celina backed from the table and Jack didn’t try to stop her. His eyes lost all expression, and he shoved the other man away.

“I thought I could make you see things my way, Jacko,” Wilson said, dropping into his chair again and straightening his tie. Conversation had faded at nearby tables and he looked self-consciously around. He cleared his throat and said in low tones, “In case you haven’t already found it out, the
lady’s
an animal.”

Jack rallied and said coldly, “Watch your mouth, Lamar. Celina will become my wife on Friday.”

Wilson pushed to his feet and smiled in all directions. He passed Jack and Celina, offering them similar smiles. Scarcely moving his lips, he said, “I have other plans for the
lady.
She won’t be any other man’s wife if I have my way.”

Thirty-two

Jack and Celina looked through the grimy windows that separated Detective O’Leary’s office from a room filled with police officers—male and female—clerks, and a variety of civilians either looking for help, or trying to convince a member of the NOPD that a horrible mistake had been made.

He felt Celina. Without touching her, he felt her and the sensation bound him to her even more tightly. For hours he’d watched her—and tried not to let his feelings show. And he’d stuffed the sick rage down inside until it threatened to choke him.

Wilson Lamar was her baby’s father.

Yet again Jack’s stomach clenched, and the muscles in his back and thighs. If Celina hadn’t been there, he’d have dragged Lamar from the restaurant and beaten him to a bloody pulp. Thank God she’d been there. When he went for Lamar it wouldn’t be in front of an audience.

That slime had raped Celina.

The tension in Jack’s spine hurt. His head hurt more. Regardless of how her baby had been conceived, he had passed beyond the point of wondering if he could come to love it. He already did. She carried the child and no part of her could be other than lovable. That would be his salvation, that he loved Celina and she would become his, everything that she was would become his. She was both woman, and woman with an unborn child in her womb. He wanted the entire package for himself.

“Celina.”

“What?”

He hadn’t meant to speak her name aloud. “Nothing. I want you to get some rest as quickly as possible. This has been some day”

She smiled at him, a smile that lingered while she studied his eyes. Then she returned her attention to the room beyond the windows.

For her he could be, or do, anything. Tough, cool Jack Charbonnet had done the unimaginable; he’d lost himself to a woman and he loved being lost as much as he loved her. Almost.

Immediately after leaving the restaurant, while his head pulsed with fury and he struggled not to go after Lamar again, he had told Celina what he’d overheard between Ben Angel and Mrs. Reed. They’d driven to Baton Rouge then, to the area where they understood the Reeds lived, looking for answers about Errol, and on the way they’d talked about Wilson Lamar, and about the way the Paynes had been willing to take money to get Celina alone with him.

Jack studied her some more. A brave woman with the kind of inner strength that could make a man feel very humble. Tiredness made her ethereal, and so lovely to him. She’d been loyal to her parents, too loyal. But for their own ends they’d offered her up to a man they knew she hated and she was finally angry enough to want to keep her distance from them.

His own problem would continue to be an urge to kill Wilson Lamar.

“I had no idea it was like this,” Celina said. She sat in a wooden chair with one leg shorter than the others, and looked startled each time she moved and the chair lurched. “How can they have time to deal with anything properly?”

“They can deal properly with anything they care about.”

“We’re just going to ask about Errol, aren’t we, Jack?”

He crossed his arms. “Probably. If we mention Wilson Lamar, we’d better tread very lightly, if that’s what you mean. Here comes O’Leary. Let me take the lead, if that’s okay?”

She didn’t have time to answer him before O’Leary pushed open the door and smashed it shut behind him. He tossed his hat at a hook behind his desk. The hat missed and fell on the floor. O’Leary left it there.

Balding, gray-faced, and apparently exhausted, he turned dull eyes on Celina and Jack. “Yeah?”

“Celina Payne and Jack Charbonnet. Errol Petrie was—”

“I know who Errol Petrie was.” He threw a pack of Camels and a Bic on his desk. “And I know who you are. I asked what you want here.”

Jack rose. “I want action. And I want
answers,
O’Leary. Errol’s been dead long enough for you to at least be able to give us a full autopsy report.”

O’Leary shrugged. “Petrie drowned.”

“We know that.” Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. They were safer there than in O’Leary’s bored face. “How long was he dead before we found him?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that. Could compromise the case.”

“Compromise is a big word with you, isn’t it?” Celina said.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

“We have a right to know more,” Jack said. “The day he died you asked if I’d turned Errol over. Why?” He heard Celina’s indrawn breath but concentrated on watching O’Leary.

The man shrugged again. “No reason you can’t know. He went into the water face first. Never had a chance. Whoever did it to him was big enough to make sure he took in enough water not to be able to fight back fast enough. There were bruises on the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades, and his toenails had bled where he kicked the bottom of the tub.”

“Oh,” Celina said, and Jack turned to her. She screwed up her eyes. “Oh, Jack. Poor Errol.”

“What we don’t have,” O’Leary said, “is a suspect. Possible motives, but no suspects. The man had a past. He’d been a drunk who liked women too much. He still liked women when he died, not that it’s a crime. But he could have made some husband or boyfriend angry enough to kill him. Do you have any ideas you’d like to share on that?”

Jack hated that after the hours they’d just spent asking questions in Baton Rouge, Celina had to go through this too. She’d refused to go home without him, so there had been no choice but to let her come. “Errol lived a good life,” he told O’Leary. “He committed himself to serving terminally ill children. You’re right about his past. That isn’t a revelation. He’d kicked his problems, but you’re also right that there’s something we’re all missing. And I don’t think it’s an angry boyfriend or husband. We stopped by to mention a possible lead you might want to take a look at.”

“Oh, good,” O’Leary said, flopping into his chair and hauling his big, dusty shoes onto his battered desk. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back. “So why don’t you two experts set this amateur on the right track?”

“You’re a touchy man, O’Leary,” Jack said. “We’re as tired as you are, and maybe as jaded about now. But we lost a friend and no one seems to give a...no one seems to care a whole lot. Celina and I went to Baton Rouge to ask some questions this afternoon. Then we came straight back here to see you. Errol had been going there to some prayer meetings. For some time, only we didn’t know about it. Evidently it brought him some peace.”

“Different strokes,” the detective said without opening his eyes. “Learn to play a tambourine or somethin’, did he? Speak in tongues?”

“It’s a cheap shot to poke fun at what matters to other people,” Celina said, effectively silencing Jack and snapping O’Leary’s eyes open. She continued. “What you think about the way people choose to worship isn’t the issue here. Errol spending a lot of time in Baton Rouge is. Would you like to know what we found out today? Or should we leave and see what we can do with the information ourselves?”

Jack almost laughed. She should have been a diplomat.

“Spill it,” O’Leary said, uncrossing and recrossing his dirty black laceups. “And cut any detours if you don’t mind, ma’am. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long day for us too,” she said. “Errol Petrie started attending prayer meetings just out of Baton Rouge. That seems to have been about six months ago. The people who were the ministers are called Joan and Walt Reed. They showed up here in New Orleans shortly after Errol’s death. They said Errol had told them he’d make sure they never wanted for anything. Evidently Errol had even replaced their tent. According to them, they saved his spirit and that gave them the right to ask about his will.”

She paused and looked at Jack. O’Leary’s eyes were closed again.

“We asked around the area. The Reeds’ place is closed up—which isn’t surprising since they’re here in New Orleans like a couple of buzzards waiting to pick the bones.”

“What did you find out?” O’Leary asked.

Jack didn’t care if the man listened, or attempted to do anything with what they told him. He just didn’t want to be accused of concealing information. “Errol took a liking to Mrs. Reed’s son, Ben, by her former marriage to a man called Angel. Mr. Angel dropped out of the picture some years back and Mrs. Reed remarried. But what’s interesting to us is that Errol Petrie was kind to Ben—who is bright—and encouraged him to go back to school.”

“Admirable,” O’Leary muttered.

Celina raised a hand, signifying she wanted to carry on. “Errol lost his own son. That may have played a part in the way he wanted to help this young man. Anyway, Ben helped out at the prayer meetings. Collecting donations and so on. We don’t know if he ever went back to school, but he’s been seen here in New Orleans. Another man went to ask questions about Errol Petrie and what he was doing on all his visits to Baton Rouge. This man was looking for dirt, according to the people we spoke to. They didn’t know his name. But they said he liked Ben Angel, and one night there was an argument between Ben and his folks and Ben took off with this man.”

“Is this going anywhere?” O’Leary said, jerking his feet to the floor and leaning across his desk. His eyes were bloodshot. “If it’s going to take a while, I’d like to get some of the stuff that passes for coffee around here.” He tapped a smashed Camel from the pack and lit up. Smoke curled, making him close one eye.

“Ben Angel is here in New Orleans,” Jack said. “I saw him around lunchtime today outside a restaurant. I also saw Mrs. Reed talking to him. That was just before Celina and I took a run to Baton Rouge. Would you check something out for us, please?”

O’Leary spread his arms. “My time is your time. I’m a public servant, and you’re the public.” Stuck between his moving lips, the cigarette bobbed up and down when he talked.

Jack didn’t find O’Leary amusing. “You people were called to a fund-raising party held at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson Lamar. There’d been an attempted robbery and the suspect was apprehended by the pool. Would you look up that incident, please?”

For an instant Jack thought O’Leary would refuse, but he pushed to his feet and left the room. Ten minutes later he returned with a computer printout in his hand. “Is this it?” He pushed the paper at Jack, who scanned it quickly and handed it back.

“Well?” O’Leary asked.

“That would be it. Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s the lot. Lamar let the kid go. We don’t take kindly to being called out, only to be told there aren’t any charges and we wasted our time.”

Celina shifted to the edge of her seat. “No charges? They didn’t—’

“Uh-uh.” O’Leary opened a penknife and cleaned his fingernails with the tip of the blade. “Evidently the kid didn’t get a chance to take anything, so Lamar waited until we got him in the car and downtown, then came in and told us there weren’t any charges. The end. Not a thing we could do.”

In other words, Wilson had used the elaborate piece of drama Celina had described to justify his decision to employ Ben Angel, the aquarium man who never saw an aquarium before he saw the ones someone else had already put in for his new boss. The biggie was why? There were a lot of whys. Unless Wilson had a thing for boys, Jack couldn’t come up with a reason.

“We came to pass all this along in case it’s of any use,” Jack said. “The man who brought Ben back to New Orleans was Wilson Lamar. Ben is now his bodyguard and chauffeur. Nothing against that, but Wilson did go to Baton Rouge several weeks ago asking questions about Errol and what he was doing there.” He felt Celina shift and realized he’d just violated his own earlier statement, and all but accused Wilson of playing a part in some plot.

O’Leary tossed the printout on his desk. “Is that it?”

Celina and Jack looked at each other and stood up in unison. “That’s it,” Celina said. “Just checking in.”

“Well, we certainly do thank you. Don’t hesitate to come by with any other brilliant pieces of detective work. I’m always lookin’ for ways to sharpen my skills.” The man shook his head. “Maybe I’ll take the pair of you along on a bust. Budding pair of sleuths like you shouldn’t be wasted.”

Jack held his temper just. “There is something else you might do if you’ve got a spare hour. Errol had a man who worked for him for years. His name was Antoine. I don’t know his last name. But he’s gone. He left Royal Street some days after Errol was killed and never came back. That was several days ago now. 1 wouldn’t have said he was the kind of guy to abandon a sinking ship, which makes me wonder if he’s afraid of something.”

“Now
are we finished?” O’Leary said.

“Yes, sir,” Jack told him. He put an arm around Celina’s board-stiff shoulders and walked her out to the street without another word to a member of the force.

On the sidewalk she said, “What made you mention Antoine?”

“I’ve been thinking about him. I like the guy and I can’t figure out why he’s dropped from sight.”

Celina didn’t say anything and he looked at her curiously. She was serious, but then smiled suddenly and warmed him as only she seemed to warm him these days.

“Going to O’Leary was a waste of time,” he muttered.

Celina said, “No, it wasn’t. Now we know that whole thing with the boy who supposedly robbed guests at the Lamars’ was engineered to explain why Wilson hired Ben.”

“Only it doesn’t,” Jack told her, walking toward Les Chats. They needed to check in with Dwayne. “What it proves is that good ol’ Wilson felt he had to have some sort of cover for hiring the kid. But we still don’t know why he hired him.”

“You are just too sharp for yourself,” Celina said, smiling up at him. “And now we’re going to have to find out that little piece of information for ourselves.”

Dwayne hadn’t been at Les Chats. A worried Jean-Claude spoke of some man who came to talk to Dwayne and how Dwayne left immediately afterward, saying he was going to Royal Street to talk with Cyrus, whom he’d evidently come to trust. Jean-Claude had smiled at that and said, “I swear that boy is feelin’ guilty ‘bout somethin’. Nobody does guilt like a good Catholic boy. I guess your brother has become his confessor, Celina. Now, there’s a priest even I might be able to get excited about.” He smiled, but it was a deliberately lascivious smile, and they all laughed.