Tell Me Something Good (36 page)

Noel sighed and sat back against the bench.
“We haven’t even gotten to the fire and the burglary.”

“You know what my grandmother thinks.”
Lyrissa looked across the wide green lawn.

“That we set it up. My folks feel the same
way about your family.”

“I defended you,” Lyrissa said with a faint
smile. “Thanks. I defended you until we were all shouting at each
other.” Noel leaned toward her and put an arm across the back of
the bench.

She nodded. “Did you ever once think—”

“No,” he broke in sharply. “Did you think I
might have been responsible?”

“No, but..Lyrissa plucked at the hem of her
cotton blouse.

“Yeah, my family. They didn’t do it,
Lyrissa.” Noel rubbed his jaw with one large hand. “The police said
they’re going to call you.”

“They haven’t yet. Of course, I’ll tell them
everything I know.”

Noel wound a tendril of her hair around his
forefinger. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said softly.

“I don’t want to lose you, either, but we’re
up against a lot here.”

“Then we have to be stronger than the
scandals, the rumors, the prejudices, and our relatives.” He pulled
her against his chest.

“Right,” Lyrissa murmured. A tall order
indeed, she mused.

Miss Georgina scowled at Noel over the top of
her reading glasses. “She’s got you fooled, Noel Phillip!”

Noel sat on the large sofa in his
grandmother’s sun room. He folded his arms in a defensive posture
and braced himself for another tirade. His parents sat on either
side of his grandmother like soldiers supporting the general. Julie
had joined them at his grandmother’s request. She stood to one side
with a cup of coffee in one hand.

“I understand why you’re so angry, but
Lyrissa isn’t a thief,” he replied in a calm tone. “I’m not going
to listen to your accusations again.”

His mother put down her coffee cup. “Be
reasonable, son. You can’t believe this sequence of events is a
coincidence.”

“It does seem a bit odd, Noel,” his father
put in. Richard lifted a shoulder. “The timing is suspicious.”

“To say the least,” his mother, Madeline St.
Denis, added sharply.

Julie strolled over and sat next to Noel.
“Her claim is pretty shaky. Maybe she realized her scam wouldn’t
work.” “Your objective conclusion?” Noel said coldly. They stared
at each other until Julie looked away. He turned to his father.
“Lyrissa isn’t stupid. Besides, their evidence isn’t shaky at
all.”

“You’re the one who isn’t objective,” Miss
Georgina said. Madeline looked at Miss Georgina. “Just how close
have they become?”

“Obviously much too close.” Miss Georgina
pursed her lips.

“Don’t even go there, people,” Noel growled.
“This is about our family and the business. I’ve always stood by
both.”

“And now? Lyrissa Rideau is the test, Noel.
You’ll have to choose.” Miss Georgina lifted her proud chin.

“No, I won’t.”

His grandmother shook her head. “This woman
is determined to destroy us. You can’t or won’t see through her.
For the first time, I don’t trust your judgment.”

“Carlton is talking to board members, Noel.
You’ve got to take some kind of decisive action to head him off,”
Richard put in.

“I think we can prove the painting belongs to
this family.” Julie spoke in a smooth tone. “We can use Jules
Joubert’s reputation to cast doubt on their claim. He probably sold
the painting for liquor, then tried to get it back.”

“Exactly the kind of strategy we need. Thank
you, dear. At least you’re thinking dearly. Noel, you should rely
on Julie more,” Miss Georgina said pointedly.

“Her loyalty is unquestionable,” Madeline
added as she stared at her son.

“This game of dueling accusations in the
media hasn’t helped, Grandmother. Julie, you shouldn’t have gotten
involved without consulting me.” Nod glared at her.

Julie’s expression remained composed. “Your
grand-mother asked for my advice and help. We can’t allow people
like Lyrissa Rideau to run over us.”

“I think you should be grateful, young man,”
Madeline said. “Julie is looking out for your best interests.”

Noel stood and buttoned his navy blue suit
jacket. “I still nm Tremé£ Corporation. No more interviews until I
consult with our lawyers.”

“The board won’t be happy, Noel. Don’t
forget, we choose who runs the company.” Miss Georgina’s eyes
flashed with anger.

“You want the company back? Fine with me. I
don’t need the headaches from a bunch of hardheaded, narrow-minded
dinosaurs who allowed it to get into a mess in the first damn
place!” Noel shouted. He spun around and strode from the room.

Richard caught up with him in the hallway.
“Son, I hope you know what you’re doing.” He walked beside Noel and
put a hand on his arm.

“I do,” Noel shot back.

“Uh, your grandmother is worried that you
just dropped your resignation in her lap,” Richard said. He yanked
on Noel’s arm. “Will you stop for a minute?”

Noel faced him. “I sure as hell don’t intend
to resign. They’ll have to fire me.”

“Good, but watch your back. Carlton we know
about, but there are others you should keep an eye on.” Richard
spoke in a low voice.

“Julie just made the short list. The stunt
she pulled with Grandmother proves she can’t be trusted.” Noel wore
a fierce expression. He would deal with her today.

“I was thinking of Lyrissa Rideau, Noel,”
Richard said somberly. “Your grandmother could be right about her.”
Noel walked away from him. “I’ll call you later, Dad.” He slammed
the door hard behind him as he left his grandmother’s house.

Lyrissa gripped the receiver and fought hard
to control her temper. “Mr. Polk, the brochure has to be perfect. I
don’t care about your other jobs. We’re paying you to get it
right.”

The part-time receptionist appeared at her
office door. “Your grandmother is on line three,” she whispered.
“She says it’s urgent.”

Before she could answer, the printer whined
in her ear about his schedules. “Mr. Polk, we can’t hope no one
notices twenty typos, one of them misspelling the name of our
gallery!” she barked at him. “Your staff screwed up. Now, fix it!
Mr. Taylor is talking lawsuit.”

She’d said the magic word. Mr. Polk babbled
on about how much he valued their business. Lyrissa softened her
tone now that he was cowed. They agreed on a delivery date for the
brochure. Lyrissa glanced up again to find that Tameka had gone
back to her desk. She heard her raised voice.

“Yes, ma’am, but she’s on an important call
and—yes, ma’am.” She turned to Lyrissa with a silent plea in her
wide eyes.

Lyrissa waved to her. She couldn’t stop now
that she’d finally made the mule-headed printer see reason.
Besides, she didn’t need another dose of Mama Grace’s daily drama.
Lyrissa endured her tirades each time a new article about Jules
Joubert appeared.

Two men in suits walked through the front
door while Tameka tried to soothe her grandmother. They scanned the
gallery for a few seconds, then separated. One studied paintings
that hung on the north wall of the lobby. The taller one walked
past the reception desk to Mr. Taylor’s office. His companion
followed him seconds later.

“Yes, Mr. Polk. I understand how hard it is
to find good workers,” Lyrissa replied.

She propped the receiver against her shoulder
as he continued to complain. Tameka hung up the phone and hustled
across the floor to her door. Mr. Taylor walked ahead of the two
men toward her office, but Tameka arrived first.

“Lyrissa, your grandmother is freaking out
about something. You’d better call her, girl.” The young woman
waved her arms

“Not now, Tameka. Excuse us.” Mr. Taylor
nodded his head toward the reception desk.

Tameka backed up. “Yes, sir.”

The two men walked into her office and Mr.
Taylor closed the door. “These detectives are here to see you,
Lyrissa.”

The short man spoke first. “I’m Detective
Campo, and this is Detective Murphy. We’re with the New Orleans
PD.”

“Ma’am, a stolen painting was found at your
place of residence on”—he broke off to consult a notepad in his
hand—“Erato Street.”

“What?” Lyrissa sprang from her chair, still
holding the receiver.

“You’re under arrest on suspicion of arson,
felony theft, and aggravated assault in the commission of a
felony,” Detective Murphy rattled off the charges.

“My God!” Mr. Taylor’s mouth hung open.

“No way!” Lyrissa shot back. “I’m not guilty
of any-thing.”

“Ma’am, we don’t determine guilt. That’s for
the courts to decide.” Detective Campo spoke in an even, calm
voice. “Let’s just get this straightened out.”

Detective Murphy closed in on her from the
left. “Yes, ma’am. Just handle your business and we can leave
quietly.

She hung up on Mr. Polk cutting him off in
mid-sentence. “This is a big mistake.”

“Of course it is, dear. I can’t believe
anyone would seriously think you’re an art thief.” Mr. Taylor
twisted his hands together. “Uh, did any reporters follow you here,
officer?”

“We don’t control the press, sir,” Detective
Campo said in a dry voice. “Ma’am, the owners have identified the
painting as being part of the St. Denis collection.”

Detective Murphy read from his notepad again.
“It’s called ‘Sunday Stroll on the Faubourg Trem6.’ ”

“According to Mr. Carlton St. Denis you
claimed the painting really belonged to your family. There is some
legal dispute, I believe.”

“Oh-oh.” Mr. Taylor put a hand over his
mouth.

“That doesn’t mean I stole it. We had a good
case. My attorney is confident we’ll get it back.” Lyrissa’s voice
strained with the effort to convince them. Mr. Taylor lifted his
hands in a helpless gesture when she looked at him for support.

“Yes, ma’am. Speaking of attorneys,”
Detective Murphy said. He read her rights in a rapid-fire delivery.
“You understand?”

“Yes,” she answered in a numb voice. A weight
settled on her chest.

“I don’t think we need handcuffs, do we,
ma’am?” Detective Campo raised an eyebrow at her. His expression
implied he’d use whatever means necessary to subdue her.

“Of course not! Think how that would look!”
Mr. Taylor blurted out.

He dashed to the front lobby and looked
outside with a frightened expression. Tameka’s eyes stretched wide
as she watched them escort Lyrissa to the door. Kevin emerged from
the back of the gallery.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” he asked.

“Lyrissa has been arrested,” Tameka said in a
stage whisper.

“Call my lawyer, Ebony Armstrong,” Lyrissa
yelled over her shoulder. “Now!”

Lyrissa heard her name through a thick fog.
The ominous voice grew louder and louder, coming closer with each
passing second. Her heart hammered until her chest hurt. She felt
trapped. Fear pressed her down until she couldn’t breathe.

“Lyrissa. Lyrissa, wake up, baby.”

She twisted around then sat up with a cry.
Slowly her bedroom came into focus. “No bars,” Lyrissa rasped from
her bone-dry throat.

“You’re home safe and sound, cherie. Nothing
is going to hurt you here.” Aunt Claire put her plump arms around
Lyrissa and rocked her.

Lyrissa hugged her aunt as the pounding in
her chest subsided. “What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock in the morning. I’ve got
breakfast waiting

for you.” Aunt Claire brushed a strand of
damp hair from her forehead.

“I’d better call Mr. Taylor.”

“Shelton already called. He says you can take
off all the time you need.”

“He means I’m fired,” Lyrissa muttered.

“Now, baby, he didn’t say you were fired. He
meant you needed time off.”

“The last thing he needs is a suspected art
thief working for him. I can’t blame him, either.” Lyrissa let go
of her aunt. She pressed the heels of her hands against her
eyes.

“He’ll stand by you, dear. We had a little
talk.” Aunt Claire’s sweet tone gave way to one of steel. “I
reminded him how we helped him years ago when he first opened that
gallery.”

“Thanks, sweetie, but I don’t want him to
lose his business because of me.” Lyrissa threw the twisted sheets
back and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Aunt Claire rubbed the small of her back.
“We’re going to fight. You can’t hide in your bedroom forever.
You’ve been in here for two days already.” She got up and put away
piles of clothes.

Ebony came to the bedroom door. “Hey, girl.
How are you doing?” She put her briefcase on the vanity.

“I was just telling her to get up,” Aunt
Claire said as she tossed clothes in the hamper.

“Sorry. Being booked as a felon and tossed in
a cage is a little unsettling.” Lyrissa waved her arms.

“Of course it was awful. But we got you out
double quick, babe.” Ebony unbuttoned her blazer and sat down.

Aunt Claire paused in the act of folding a
t-shirt “All the evidence is circumstantial. Someone is trying to
frame you, no pun intended. They can’t place you at the scene of
the crime.”

“You’ve been reading those legal thrillers
too much.” Lyrissa gave her a weary smile that faded.

“She’s right. I mean, the painting is stolen
and then pops up in your garage? Puh-leeze!” Ebony placed a hand on
one hip. “I’ll rip that kind of evidence apart. That’s the good
news.”

“Eb, there is no good news.” Lyrissa cradled
her head in both hands. “God! What a nightmare.”

“Honey, get dressed. I baked your favorite
apple cinnamon muffins, scrambled two eggs, and Ebony brought
Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.” Aunt Claire pulled her hands
down.

“Yeah, girl. Get out of this room.” Ebony
glanced around at the piles of clothes and magazines. “Looks like a
bunch of gerbils are nesting in here.”