Be My Baby (25 page)

“Edward Haynes,” Pfeffer’s voice intoned loudly, “you are under arrest for burglary in the first degree, with sexual motivation. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right…”

Beau swore viciously and kissed Juliet hard. Releasing her, he ordered, “Don’t leave,” and spun away.

He didn’t look back as he waded into the crowd toward the scene being played out near the dining room entrance.

Juliet stood numb and unmoving for several long moments. Finally, she took a deep breath and shook out her hands. Hearing the excited chatter around her, she approached the band leader and asked him to resume the music. She corralled the nearest waiter, who stood gawking with everyone else, and reminded him to keep the champagne circling.

Roxanne approached. “What can I do?”

“Keep our servers moving. Let’s try to recoup our losses as best we can.”

“They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity,” Roxanne offered.

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” Juliet touched her friend’s hand. “I saw Beau go into the Blue Room. I’d like to go see what’s happening and perhaps get an idea of how soon we can expect the police to be out of here.”

“You go ahead. I’ll circle the wagons here.”

“Thanks, Rox.”

She passed Edward, barricaded by policemen, and Celeste, who stood white-faced just outside of the phalanx of tuxedoed cops. Every camera and minicam in the place was trained on the tableau. Pfeffer postured for the media’s benefit, but before Juliet could detour over to him, Beau pushed his way past the crowd that blocked the door to the Blue Room. He carried a clear plastic parcel containing the pistol and panties they had discovered yesterday.

The media immediately turned their cameras on him, but he thwarted them by tucking the packet under his shirt. Ignoring Pfeffer, he edged through the line of cops to stop in front of Edward.

“Mr. Haynes, I’m going to take you to headquarters now.”

Edward looked at him for an instant and then gave a brief nod.

“I’ll leave the cuffs off until we get outside.” Gently grasping the older man’s elbow, he headed for the door.

Juliet watched them go, then turned to see Pfeffer holding forth with the press.

“Through hard detective work, we’ve arrived at this moment where once again the streets are a little bit safer,” he said pedantically. “We have rea
son to believe Edward Haynes is the perpetrator who has plagued the city in recent months with a series of—”

Juliet inserted herself between him and the cameras, burning to tell the media that the hard detective work was not Pfeffer’s doing. “You’re not welcome here, sir. I’d like you to leave.”

Dark color surged beneath Pfeffer’s skin. “We’re conductin’ a police investigation here, young lady.”

“Since all the evidence and your suspect have gone downtown, sir, there’s nothing left for you to investigate, is there? Please leave.”

“It’s mah understanding that this is an establishment open to the public.”

“Your understanding is correct. We do, however, reserve the right to deny service to anyone we wish. You have outstayed your welcome.” She turned to the media. “Turn off those cameras. I want you all out of here now.”

They had no recourse but to comply with her wishes, and she stood sentinel until the last one was out the door. Then, suppressing a sigh, she turned to do what she could to salvage her event.

L
uke found Josie Lee standing with her sisters. Anabel leaned into her from one side, Camilla’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders from the other, and Ned stood at her back. He stopped in front of her. “You okay, Jose?”

“Yeah.” She stepped into his arms. “That really was the Panty Snatcher, then?”

He wrapped her in his arms. “Yeah.”

“I thought so, but I wasn’t absolutely sure.” She shivered and his arms tightened around her.

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl. I had no idea that would go down tonight. Neither did Beau. It must have been some kinda tough to get caught unprepared like that, huh?”

“I always imagined that if I ever saw the guy, I’d want to rip his face from his skull with my bare hands. But he looked like a confused old man, Luke.”

“I know. It’s that ‘best laid plans’ thing, I guess.”

“Speaking of which, poor Juliet! Pfeffer sure
made a mess of her grand opening. Couldn’t the idiot have waited until tomorrow?”

“I’ll bet Beau’s livid,” Anabel chimed in. “Her bein’ his sweetie, and all.”

Luke wasn’t about to get into the convoluted relationship between Beau and Juliet. “He’s less than thrilled, all right.”

“And the way that acting captain talked to the press, you’d think he’d done all the detective work himself,” Camilla said indignantly. “I don’t
think
so.” Her husband rubbed his hand up and down her bare arm.

“Why
would
he handle it this way, Luke?” Anabel demanded. “It seemed pretty unnecessary.”

“Well, his position’s about to disappear at the end of the month. Beau guesses it’s political aspirations.”

“Oh, goody,” Josie Lee said glumly. “Just what New Orleans needs—another politician looking out for Number One.” Then she made a visible effort to shake off the bitter mood. “What d’y’all say we don’t let this ruin our evening?”

“Yeah,” Anabel agreed. “How often do we get an opportunity to get all dressed up like this, anyway?”

“Exactly. Let’s find Juliet and see if there’s anything we can do to help her salvage her party.”

The individual districts no longer possessed holding cells of their own, so Beau took Edward to police headquarters to conduct the interrogation and have the evidence processed. He closed the interview room door behind them and pulled out a
chair at the small table in the center. “Have a seat, Mr. Haynes.”

Edward sat, looking around with vague eyes at his surroundings. Beau removed the handcuffs and then circled the table. He pulled out a chair for himself and straddled the seat, crossing his arms over the top rail of its back.

“You want a cup of coffee or anything?”

Edward’s gaze returned to him. “No, thank you.”

“You wanna tell me why you’ve been breaking into women’s houses and making them strip at gunpoint?”

“I like looking at naked girls,” Edward replied, as if it were a perfectly reasonable explanation. “I like it a lot—and Celeste would never let me look at her. Girls are so pretty, don’t you think? I like their skin. And the way they smell.”

Sweet Mother Mary. “Did you ever stop to consider they might not like stripping for a stranger?”

Edward blinked. “Why? All of them either worked for or frequented burlesque clubs; I figured they liked being looked at. I never hurt anyone, Sergeant. I just wanted to study them somewhere a bit more private than a bar.” Then he smiled sweetly. “I would have enjoyed doing more than that, of course, but I knew it wouldn’t be proper.”

“If all you planned to do was study them in the nude, you should have just bought yourself a girlie magazine,” Beau said flatly.

Edward shook his head. “Celeste would never allow one of those brought into the house,” he said with wistful regret.

There was a tap on the wall, and Beau glanced at the two-way mirror, from behind which the assistant DA monitored the interview. He pushed a legal pad and a pen across the table. “I’ve gotta go out for a few minutes. While I’m gone, I’d like you to write down everything you can remember about all the girls you’ve ‘asked’ to undress for you. Give me details about how you let yourself into their homes and what happened once you were there.” He watched Edward for a moment as they elderly man picked up the pen and began to write on the yellow ruled paper. “I’ll be right back.”

He joined the assistant district attorney out in the hall. The man immediately demanded, “So, what do you think?”

“He never so much as asked for an attorney,” Beau admitted. “And he’s in there right now, writing out his confession. He could be feeling his way toward an insanity plea, I suppose, but I don’t think so. I sort of have to question his competency.”

The ADA sighed. “Yeah, that was my thought, too. I’ll schedule an appointment to have our psychiatrist take a look at him.” He shook his head. “Sure coulda used a whole lot less publicity surrounding this arrest, Dupree.”

“Tell me about it. Captain Taylor’s due back at the beginning of the month, and it can’t come a second too soon for me.” He blew out a breath. “I still need to question Haynes about some attempts that were made on his employer’s life.”

The lawyer glanced down at his paperwork. “I don’t see any charges to that effect here.”

“No—we don’t have a shred of proof at this point. But he seems to be in a forthcoming frame of mind, so I might as well see what shakes loose.” Unease nagged him over the differences between Haynes’s nonviolent encounters as the Panty Snatcher and the aggression that had been used against Juliet. But the antique guns linked the crimes. Anything else would be too damn coincidental for words. His instincts nevertheless urged him to move this along. “I’d better get back to it. I’ll book Haynes when I’m through and stick him in holding.”

“Sounds good.” The ADA snapped his folder closed. “I’ll see if I can set up an appointment with the shrink for first thing in the morning.”

“She oughtta be thrilled to be called in on a Sunday morning,” Beau said dryly, and the young man grinned.

“I know. That’s the highlight of my night.” He strolled away, whistling tunelessly.

Beau let himself back into the interview room. “How you doing, Mr. Haynes?”

Edward glanced up, then went back to his writing. “I’ll be done in a moment.”

“Take your time.”

They sat in a silence broken only by the scratch of Edward’s pen. A short while later, Edward set it down and straightened, opening and closing his hand upon the tabletop as if easing a writer’s cramp.

Beau reached across the table for the stack of handwritten pages. “You finished?”

Edward nodded.

“Sign your name to it.” As soon as Edward had complied, he pulled the stack to his side of the table and began to read. His jaw tightened once, when he read the appreciative comment Haynes had made about Josie Lee’s breasts, but he swallowed his instinctive challenge. A moment later, he set the paper aside. “Let’s talk about Juliet Astor Lowell for a moment.”

Edward flashed a sweet smile. “A lovely young woman.”

“Yes, she is. So why did you write her that threatening letter regarding the Garden Crown?”

Edward dropped his gaze. “Oh, dear, that was rather bad of us, wasn’t it? But Celeste was upset about being displaced from the Butler estates. And it really wasn’t a threat, you know.” He looked up again, meeting Beau’s eyes while he carefully straightened the sleeves of his tux. “It was simply a little dissertation to protest the loss of yet another piece of history to crass commercialism. And of course, it was before we’d actually met the dear girl.”

Us. We. Beau was beginning to get a very bad feeling.

“And I suppose you didn’t cut the brake line, either. Or take a shot at her at the garden party. Or saw through the banister in hopes that she’d fall while giving her welcome speech at the cocktail party.”

Edward’s posture grew erect, all offended dignity. “Certainly not.”

“Then who did, Mr. Haynes?”

“Roxanne, do you know where Celeste went? I’ve been so busy, I failed to even notice the poor woman had slipped away.”

Eyebrows raised skeptically, Roxanne made a rude noise. “Poor woman, my—”

“I know she hasn’t treated you particularly well.” Juliet reached out to touch her assistant’s arm. “But she’s so proud of her position in New Orleans’ society, and Edward’s arrest must have been a teriffic blow.”

“And it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving—” Roxanne cut herself off and grimaced ruefully. “Sorry. The person I can’t help feeling sorry for, though, is Edward. Whatever he’s done, I bet the dragon lady drove him to it.”

Juliet swallowed a smile. One could always count on Roxanne for unrelenting honesty. Celeste
was
difficult. But no one deserved the kind of public humiliation she’d been subjected to tonight. And from the older woman’s point of view, the timing probably couldn’t have been more horrific. “I’ll check her rooms.”

She looked around at the party. Wine flowed, people danced, and the decibel level was a steady hum as folks laughed and gossiped. “I guess we worried prematurely about the guests leaving in droves, huh?” She shook her head. “I feel for the poor new general manager—for sheer scandal and sensationalism, our last two events are going to be difficult to top.”

Her eyes met Roxanne’s, and they both burst into slightly hysterical laughter. Juliet tried to rein her amusement in, for surely it wasn’t appropriate, but
the corners of her lips kept curling up despite her staunchest efforts. “God, I love this town,” she confessed. “It’s a world unto itself.”

“So, maybe we ought to stay.”

Juliet stilled, every atom of her being quivering to attention in agreement. “Start our own business and give Father a run for his money, you mean?”

“Yeah, why not? Not that I’ve got a helluva lot to contribute.”

“I beg to differ. You’ve got loads to contribute.”

“Juliet—”

“Perhaps not financially, Roxanne. But you’ve got one of the most organized minds I’ve ever encountered. Things don’t slip through the cracks with you in charge. And I have contacts and a trust fund that’s never been touched.” The entire concept sparked her imagination. “I’m going to give this some real thought. That is…” She shot her friend an uncertain glance. “You
are
serious?”

A tiny smile curved Roxanne’s mouth. “Oh, yeah. I am if you are.”

“Oh, God, I truly think I am.” She laughed, because the whole idea felt so right. “We’ll have to talk about it in more depth later. Right now, I’d better check on Celeste and make sure she’s all right.”

She couldn’t get the idea out of her mind as she made her way through the revelers to the open stairway. Sometime during her stay in New Orleans, she had evolved into someone she actually liked. Although much of what Grandmother had drummed into her head had merit, many of the rules she’d been taught were designed strictly for
appearance’s sake, and she was finally learning to do what most of her peers had undoubtedly figured out during their adolescence—to take the best of her upbringing and disregard the rest.

And if Beau didn’t like her decision to stay when he heard about it? Well, as much as she loved him, she didn’t need a man to be complete. This town was big enough for the two of them. And if he didn’t think so, he could always move.

Ruined. Celeste stared into the mirror over her dressing table. She was ruined. There would be no recouping their position in society after this. That horrid man who’d talked to the media had made Edward’s little hobby sound
deviant
, for pity’s sake, and she could hear the sound of doors closing in her face all over town.

Well, she’d make them sorry. She knocked back her thimbleful of sherry and pulled open a drawer in her dressing table, reaching in to extract the pistol. Loading the ammunition into the front of the cylinder, she used the attached rammer to push the bullet to the back. Then she placed a percussion cap on one of the cylinder nipples. Each of the six bullets called for its own cap, but she only needed one for what she had in mind. Cocking the hammer, she raised the barrel to her temple.

Then she lowered it to the marble tabletop and poured herself another drop of wine from the bottle at her elbow. Opening another drawer, she pulled out a stack of stationery and a pen.

To Whom It May Concern
, she wrote.

It was that bitch Juliet’s fault that she had come
to such a pass. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d taken over her home; she’d brought her rude policeman into their lives, too. After scribbling a note to that effect, however, Celeste balled it up and tossed it to the floor. Whiners never garnered any sympathy, and she was determined that everyone who mattered would feel compunction at her passing.

She drank her sherry and poured another shot. What she needed was something with punch that would make her most persistent enemy weep with regret. Picking up her pen again, she wrote,
I find I can no longer go on in the face of Edward’s disgrace
…

That was better, but it still lacked emotional pathos. She needed something that would grab the reader’s attention right off the bat, something…Oh! She knew.

Dear cruel world
, she wrote at the top of the page. After adding several more phrases that brought tears to
her
eyes, she finally signed her name, folded the paper in half, and picked up the pocket revolver again. She was raising it into position when there was a tap at the door.

Now what?
Heaving a sigh, she set the gun down. “Who is it?”

“It’s Juliet, Celeste. May I come in?”

Just like that, Celeste’s plan changed. Swiveling to face the door, she slid the revolver onto the seat of her vanity bench and spread her starched taffeta skirt over it. She aligned her ankles just so and folded her hands in her lap. “By all means,” she said grimly to the closed portal. “Please do.”

Juliet eased the door open and poked her head in. “I’m so sorry about Edward,” she said and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Picking her way through the family antiques that ate up every free inch of space, she approached Celeste, who sat like a dowager queen at her dressing table.