Sacrifice (9 page)

I pointed to the woman in the photograph. “Who’s the girl?” I asked.

“
Your rival for Mr. Caston’s affection. Her name is Jenny Ryan.”

I looked up at Simon and raised my eyebrows questioningly. “Jenny? You’re joking?”

He waved his hand in the air and sighed. “I told you Mr. Caston has an affinity for all things related to David’s Jenny. This one is a common party girl who has distracted the man for some time, obviously because of her resemblance to you. But I am sure once he meets the real Jenny that relationship will quickly end.”

I replaced the pictures inside of the folder. “And what is it I’m supposed to do?”

“
Become acquainted with Mr. Caston and learn how he gets his forgeries. I will need physical proof of his illegal activities; photos, receipts, addresses, and the names of all those who supply him with his forged paintings. Once you have enough to bring about a conviction, return everything to me and I will hand it over to my client.”

I leaned back in my chair. “And who is your client? A jealous rival of Mr. Caston’s?”

He bowed his head as if trying to hide a devilish grin. “Mr. Caston has many jealous rivals in the art and business world. Yours truly included.” He lowered his voice, sounding more cruel than angry. “The man and I have a rather sordid history which has a great deal to do with why I took this job. The client has a vested interest in making sure none of these forgeries make it to the open market.”

“
Because they would drive down the price of the legitimate paintings?”

He nodded as he lifted his beady eyes to me. “That and the client was a very good friend of the artist. David had a great many friends. All of whom want to see these forgeries quickly shut down at the source.”

I felt a wave of understanding surge through me. “And you knew I would not be able to resist getting involved because of David. I should have realized that there was more to this than just my being David’s Jenny.”

Simon La Roy’s dark, little eyes never wavered. “I knew you would be motivated to work with me out of your devotion to preserve David’s legacy. And, I must admit, you would be the one person Gregory Caston would never suspect of deception, making your introduction into his private circle an outright necessity.”

“
And am I expected to sleep with this man to get his secrets?” I asked, watching Simon’s face for the slightest hint of his plans.

Simon raised his gray eyebrows warily. “Sleeping with a man does not guarantee you will get his secrets, Nicci. Mr. Caston is a notorious playboy and women are merely disposable pleasures to him. To get close to him you will need to utilize a different kind of strategy.” He paused and smiled at me. “When I first started out in this business I was an actor on the Broadway stage. I watched men like Gregory Caston as they bedded one pretty girl after another without the slightest bit of remorse. I learned from such experiences that a woman needs more than just her looks to gain a man’s confidence. My best female specialists know how to use their brains, and their bodies, to get a man to reveal his secrets. You must do the same.”

I looked once more to the folder on my lap. “If I do this job for you Simon, would you be willing to do something for me? Sort of like an exchange of information. I get what you need and then you get me what I need.”

Simon smiled. “If you are successful in getting the information I require from Gregory Caston, then I will be happy to help you get whatever it is that you need.”

“
And that’s it? No contract. No paperwork. You hand me this…” I picked up the folder. “And we have a deal?”

“
I’m a very simple man, Nicci, and I never put anything down on paper.” Simon reached for his cane and stood easily from his chair. “Let us just call this little job a test for you. If you are successful with Mr. Caston, then we will need to make further arrangements if you are to continue working for me.”

I stood and placed the folder on the seat of my chair. “What kind of arrangements?”

He walked over to me. “Bank accounts in Zurich for starters. And a place for you to live away from New Orleans and Dallas.” He paused and looked over at me raising one eyebrow. “Where will you be staying while this job plays out?” he inquired.

“
I’m at my father’s with Dallas but—”

Simon waved his hand, silencing me. “I would suggest making other living arrangements. Dallas is a suspicious man and your comings and goings will be questioned. No need to have a jealous lover hanging around to muddle up the assignment.” He walked back to the desk in the corner of the room. “I can arrange for you to have a suite here at the Royal Orleans,” he offered over his shoulder.

I smiled as I thought of Val’s house in the French Quarter. “I have somewhere else I can stay in the French Quarter.”

Simon’s butler, Gerard, unexpectedly entered the room. The tall, bald man dressed in his tailored black suit stopped a few feet away from me and then nodded to Simon.

“
Everything has been arranged,” the man said in a deep voice. He turned from Simon and looked over at me. “Hello, Ms. Beauvoir,” he said with an insincere smile.

I dipped my head politely to the butler. “Gerard, it’s good to see you again.”

Simon picked up a slip of paper from his desk. “I will be staying on for a time in New Orleans to see how you do. Remember, Nicci, this is only a test. I have no expectations. If it gets to be too much and you want out, then simply walk away. I can bring in another of my specialists later to pick up where you left off.” He walked over to Gerard.

“
That is very generous of you. Do you always give everyone in your organization such an option?”

Simon frowned as he handed the piece of paper to Gerard. “No. You are a friend and I’m making this offer only once. If you join my little group of specialists, then I will have certain expectations.”

“
And if I do not meet those expectations?” I stared defiantly into his eyes.

“
You will never want to disappoint me, Nicci.”

I inspected Simon’s face, looking for some hint of emotion, but his countenance was as impenetrable as stone.

“
I guess that’s it then,” I said, stepping toward the entrance to Simon’s suite.

Simon reached out and held my arm, halting my hasty departure. “There is a black tie benefit in two days for Hurricane Katrina Relief at a gallery in the French Quarter. Gregory Caston will be there, so you and I will be attending. Make your arrangements by then. I will contact you tomorrow with further details.”

I nodded. “All right, Simon.”

Simon let go of my arm. “Just one more thing. Mr. Caston thinks himself something of an artist.” He glanced down at his cane. “He will inevitably want to paint you. But I must warn you, he prefers only one style of portraiture.”

I looked from Gerard to Simon. “Which is?”

Simon looked up at me and smiled, showing his sharp little white teeth. “He likes to paint nudes.”

***

I returned from meeting with Simon to find Dallas in my father’s study, working on the computer. He was seated behind my father’s massive oak desk, concentrating on the computer screen in front of him.

“
Dallas,” I called out from the door. “Care for some company?”

“
Back to Connecticut?” he said soberly.

Unsure of what to say to him, I simply stood and watched him from the doorway.

He shook his head and waved me inside. “Come in, Nicci.” His eyes followed me as I entered the study. “How did meeting go with the graphic designer?” he asked as he sat back in his chair.

I had concocted a story for Dallas about a last minute meeting, arranged by my publisher, with a local graphic designer to make some changes to the cover of Unfinished Business.

“
Everything went well. I think everyone at Hamper Publishing will be pleased with the new cover,” I reported as I approached the desk. “What are you doing?” I inquired.

He nodded to the computer screen. “E-mails from my uncle about the boatyard. He wanted me to go over some figures on new boat orders before we start production.”

I approached his side and took his hand in mine. And for a moment I felt we were as we had been…content. He let go of my hand and went back to his e-mails. I took a seat on the edge of the desk and watched as his slender fingers typed furiously away on the keyboard.

As I sat on the desk and observed the man who had shared my bed these past few months, I wondered what it was that had attracted me to Dallas. He was a handsome man with his strong jaw and deep blue eyes. He had a lean, muscular frame that he kept in shape by running daily and lifting weights. He was kind, considerate, and a wonderful lover. He had all the qualities that any other woman would have swooned over and spent the rest of her life admiring. I knew I cared for Dallas, but love? Perhaps love was never meant to be part of my design. Perhaps I was fated to have loved once and never to love again. What was wrong with me that I could not move past what I had discovered with David? And then I thought of David, the way he smiled, his laugh, the touch of his hand, all the things that had sent my biochemistry into the stratosphere. If there was ever one true example of divine intervention, then love must be it. Because nothing in the world defied explanation more than the one force that drives two people together. It goes beyond chemistry and psychology, because there is no practical science that can be applied to the impractical nature of love. We are motivated by it, driven mad during it, and long for its presence when we fall out of it. And as I watched Dallas pound the keys on my father’s desktop computer, I felt saddened by my lack of love for him. I should love him, every practical bone in my body told me so, but I didn’t. And never being able to quite love somebody enough is sadder than never having loved anybody at all.

“
You’re a good man, Dallas August,” I stated as I watched his profile. “Did I ever tell you that?”

Dallas stopped typing and turned to me. He sat back in my father’s old leather chair and probed me with his eyes.

“
The question is why are you telling me this now?” he finally asked.

“
Because I felt you needed to hear it.” I stood up from the desk and gingerly kissed his cheek. “I love you, Dallas,” I whispered to him.

“
But you’re not in love with me, are you, Nicci?” he questioned as I stood back from his chair.

I stood motionless, feeling my nerve beginning to falter. “I thought those words mattered to you,” I calmly replied.

“
They do. But it’s the delivery that leaves something to be desired.”

I choked back my anger. “I’m sorry if my delivery was not up to your expectations.” I took a step back from him. “I’ll just go and let my father know I’m home.”

I hoped to exit the room before he could find the words to cross-examine me.

“
For what it’s worth, I’m glad you finally said it,” he called out from behind me. “So when are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

I stopped at the entrance to my father’s study and reached out for the doorframe to steady myself. I had to make sure I gave not the slightest hint of my true inner turmoil to Dallas. I had to be like him. It was my turn to be the cool professional.

“
Why do you always have to interrogate me? Nothing is going on,” I insisted, facing him.

He was sitting in my father’s chair with his arms folded across his chest. “Old habits die hard. Besides, you’ve never been a very good liar, Nicci.”

I stared at him but said nothing. I wanted to see what, if anything, he knew.

“
Dora, your pushy little publishing assistant, called the house while you were out. She said she tried your cell phone but it was off.” He raised his dark eyebrows. “So where were you?” he persisted.

“
All right if you must know.”

He grinned at me. “Oh, I must.”

I raised my head and took in a deep breath. “I was meeting an old friend of yours at the Royal Orleans about a job,” I reported.

A moment of tense silence passed between us and then Dallas started shaking his head. “And how is Simon?” He stood from his chair.

I leaned wearily against the doorframe. “Looking for an art forger. He wants me to help him. Seems someone is putting fake David Alexander’s on the market and Simon wants me to shake down the dealer all the paintings are tied to.”

Dallas slowly walked up to me. “And who is that, may I ask?”

“
A man named Gregory Caston.”

Dallas gave me a slight look of surprise. “Caston and Simon hate each other. Did you know that?”

I nodded. “Simon mentioned something about it.”

Dallas stopped in front of me “Did Simon mention that Caston runs a rival organization similar to Simon’s? Simon has lost a lot of clients and specialists to his biggest competitor in the past. He has been itching to get rid of Caston for years.”

I looked nervously into his eyes. “He must have skipped that part.”

“
You can’t do this, Nicci. Caston is a dangerous man.” He paused but kept his eyes riveted to mine. “You’re in over your head,” he softly added.

I turned away from him. “I’ve already agreed to take the job, Dallas.”

“
So I’m supposed to just go back to Connecticut and leave you here to be used by Simon.” He placed his mouth against my ear and whispered, “Or perhaps you plan on using Simon to help you search for your ghost?”