GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense) (8 page)

He pulled her shirt over her head and slipped her bra straps off her shoulders. He got up and took off his clothes, never removing his gaze from her. Diana loved his body, his tight muscles and strong arms that lifted her like she was nothing more than a puff of air. She loved his coffee-colored skin against her white, his gold-flecked hazel eyes, and the imperfect overlapping of one of his front teeth. She loved everything about him, especially now that he was taking off the rest of her clothes in the slow, methodical way he always undressed her, as if he delighted in revealing every naked inch of skin.

He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing each finger, nibbling on the tips, never taking his
gaze
off her.
The
tender
action
sparked every nerve ending, inciting her need of him in ways she couldn’t explain
.
A
playful smile crinkled the corners of his eyes
as
h
e
moved
into
a
slow
,
gentle kiss
while he
worked his fingers
into the mass of
curls
, caressing, massaging the base of her skull, causing shivers of delight. His lips moved to her cheek and into her ear, his tongue curious, his breath hot, then down her neck to her shoulder, part kiss, part gentle, erotic nipping.

“I never thought I’d be blessed with love again,” he said. “It’s totally different the second time. One takes the first time for granted. Mid-twenties, you fall in love, get married, and have kids. You don’t give it much thought. It’s all in the timing. Then when everything crashes, you realize how much you lost. The second time is sweeter because you know how fleeting life can be and how important it is to make every moment count.” He moved toward her and kissed her forehead. “I appreciate you more than words can say.”

Diana’s heart went into double rhythm. “Thank you. That’s about the nicest thing you could say, because it wasn’t said in the heat of passion.
Well maybe a little passion.
Sweet passion.
”

“I know we’re not ready to live together, but it’s nice to know
there’s
s
omeone waiting, especially after a week like this. I hope you feel the same way.”

“I do. I love being part of your life.
Even the cop part.
Makes me feel like I’m not completely retired.”

He took her into his arms. “I can’t wait much longer.”

“Then don’t,”
she said.

* * * * *

A
fter, they lay still for a long time. Diana enjoyed the warmth of his arms around her, the touch of his skin next to hers, the unmistakable scent of sex. “I know how difficult this week was.”

“The Seaver kidnapping is eating at my gut. The longer the baby’s missing, the less likely she’ll be found.”

H
e was right. The missing child ate at her too.
“Anything on Brother Osiris?”

“You mean Edward Slater? Grew up in Dallas, both parents were teachers, good student, went to
Brite
Divinity School at TCU, but he
dropped out before graduating.”

“Any reason why?”

“Nothing on the record except a later problem with drugs and alcohol.
Got picked up a few times.
Then around 1993, he
disappeared from
sight until seven years ago when he showed up here as the driving force behind Sunrise Mission.”

The missing block of time must be why Slater avoided her touch. What was he afraid she’d see? “What would make a divinity student drop out and turn into a drug-addicted drunk?”

Lucier’s
face scrunched as if in deep thought. “I couldn’t find anything else that suggested the hell he said he experienced. Whatever it was must have happened during that ten-year period.

“The only complaint against him is from the Highsmith woman, and she recanted when he produced the papers she signed.
Perfectly
legal.

“I wonder why she turned on him.”

“Maybe they had something going, and
after
he got the money he dumped her,” Lucier said.

Or maybe it was something else
. “Have you talked to her?”

“She teaches psychology at LSU. I’m seeing her
tomorrow
between classes at ten.”

The Devil’s Room

D
r. Jeanine Highsmith was not what Lucier expected. Tall, elegantly dressed, and attractive, she didn’t appear to be the type easily conned into parting with her hard-earned money by some smooth-talking swindler.

“Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Highsmith,” Lucier said.

She directed him to a chair in front of her desk. “What’s this about, Lieutenant? I thought everything concerning the Sunrise Mission was settled. I had no case; I withdrew my complaint.”

“We’re investigating the disappearance of the Seaver baby.
Maybe you read about it.
”

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s a person of interest
who’s spent time at the Mission
, trading a bed in exchange for doing odd jobs.”

A curious expression flashed across her face. “You don’t think Edward had anything to do with that, do you?”

“No, but you’re one of the volunteers who spent time there other than the few employees and the women seeking refuge. We’ve questioned all of them with little success. None of them paid
this man
any attention. I
’d
hoped you might
remember him, even
chatted with him
. Any information you could give us is more than we have now.
”

Highsmith examined the photo of Deems, and Lucier watched her expression.

“The only person I recall who even resembled this picture
didn’t have a
beard. This man looks
, I don’t know, scruffier
and darker.”

“He change
d
his appearance.”

“It could be him. I don’t know. I wouldn’t want you to depend on my identification.”

“Without invading your privacy, why
did
you bring suit against Edward Slater after willingly donating money?”

Highsmith leaned back in her chair, eyes on Lucier. She was obviously weighing whether to answer his question, and if so, deciding if she’d tell the truth.

“Let’s just say the action stemmed from the weakness in a woman’s vanity. I mistook Edward’s interest in me as more than that of a benefactor. It wasn’t. I’m embarrassed to say my pride was hurt, so I retaliated where it hurt him the most
―
in his pocketbook. I’m not proud of what I did, Lieutenant. I offered to pay his court costs, but he declined.”

Highsmith’s answer took Lucier by surprise. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m sure you’re not the only one to have been deceived.”

She shook her head slowly. “You don’t understand. Edward never deceived me. It was I who misinterpreted his feelings. Oh, there’s something mysterious about him to be sure, but he never made an improper advance or gave me reason to think we enjoyed anything more than friendship. He might be gay, but he seemed rather, how shall I say, more asexual.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not an unattractive woman, Lieutenant. That may sound immodest, but one knows into which category one falls. You, I’m guessing, couldn’t help know
ing
you’re a good-looking, sensual man. You carry that appeal in the same way you carry your badge
―w
ith confidence. I have no trouble attracting men. If I show interest, they usually respond. I found Edward captivating.
A handsome man with no ego except in regard to his intelligence.”

Focusing
on a sheaf of papers on her desk,
Highsmith
pick
ed
at the corners, but Lucier could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. She smiled, as if remembering something pleasant.

“We enjoyed long discussions about philosophy and religion, about mysticism and mythology. I have a doctorate in psychology, so that entered into our discussions as well. He’s very into that sort of thing. He’s an atheist, so we spent hours discussing our beliefs. But no matter how he tried, mine were too strong for me to be swayed.”

“Did he try to sway you?”

“Not overtly, but I always felt if I bent even a little, he would have considered it a conquest. The women who pass through the mission would do anything he asked. He was kind but not effusive. Believe me when I say I tried everything to tempt him into a more amorous relationship, but he never yielded. The more he resisted, the more I tried. It became something of an obsession for me. He never rejected me openly
―
he was too much of a gentleman for that
―
but he avoided my overtures as if I were infected with
the HIV virus
. You know the rest. Like I said, I’m not proud of
what I did
. He is the most intellectually stimulating man I’ve ever known and one of the most enigmatic.”

S
he was telling the truth
, Lucier concluded
. No woman lied about being rejected. “He mentioned he’d chosen the name Osiris because, like th
e
figure
in
mythology, he was cut into little pieces before
―
how did he put it
―
having the good fortune to be repaired. Do you know what he was referring to?”

“
A
traumatic experience darkened Edward’s past. Whatever
happened
,
he chose not to share it with me; and even if he had, I wouldn’t betray his confidence.” Jeanine Highsmith pushed the papers on her desk to one side, leaned toward Lucier. “It seems, Lieutenant, that you’re far more interested in Edward than in finding this kidnapping suspect.”

“Just coverin
g all my bases, Dr. Highsmith.”

When Lucier left the professor’s office, he wondered what it was about Edward Slater that gnawed at his gut. Highsmith saw it, even pointed it out. Was it Slater’s smooth above-it-all demeanor or the way he focused on Diana, drawing her in, inviting her to discuss subjects of mutual interest?
Subjects out of
Lucier’s
realm of experience.
Did
he
detect
a chemistry
between them? Is that why he was searching for clues to involve Slater, or Brother Osiris, or whatever the hell his name was? Clues that any good cop knew weren’t there.

He answered his cell on the way back to
his office
.

“
A patrol cop
just picked up
Deems
near Audubon Park,” Beecher said. “
The cop
followed for a while to
make
sure
he had the right guy
. Deems had shaved his beard and head but he wore the brown jacket. The cop didn’t want to make a mistake, but he didn’t want to let him get away either.
Said he was willing to make a wrongful arrest.”

“Good man. Where’s Deems now?” Lucier asked.

“Interrogation.
He’s not saying a word and hasn’t lawyered up. And
Ernie,
he’s very strange.”

“I’m parking now.” Lucier hurried inside and went straight to the interrogation room. He was stoked. If they could get Deems to confess, they might break up this
babynapping
ring. He
spied
through the one-way glass. Deems, face and head hairless, sat with his eyes closed and arms folded across his chest. He didn’t move when Lucier entered. The odor, though
faint, hit Lucier immediately.

Almonds.

Cyanide.

“Son of a bitch.”
He ran to the door. “I need an EMS team,” Lucier shouted.
“STAT!
Tell them we have a cyanide poisoning.” Touching Deems’
s
neck, he detected a slight pulse. He moved the body to the floor and started CPR. Putting his handkerchief over Deems’
s
mouth to protect him from the
poison
, he began mouth-to-mouth and alternated with
a series of chest compressions.

Within a few minutes the paramedics arrived
, one older, one
barely shaving
.
The older medic
quickly broke an ampule of
something
between two pads of gauze and placed it over Deems’
s
airway while the
younger
medic administered an intravenous solution. After thirty seconds, the first medic removed the gauze.