Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (10 page)

“I don’t believe in any psychic crap. She uses trickery, doesn’t she, Lucier? No one can see into another person’s mind. She couldn’t read mine.”

“Why don’t you volunteer to be one of her sitters?” Lucier said.

“Yeah,” Michel said. “Go ahead.”

Rickett frowned at Michel, but the younger man was nibbling a drumstick and searching the crowd, paying no attention to his partner. “I guess watching a few minutes can’t hurt. Might as well get me whatever you’re eating. Looks good.”

The two men headed toward the buffet. Lucier caught Lightner’s snort.

“Bit of a bigot,” Lightner said.

“I suspect more people feel the same way about sexual orientation but have the good manners not to say anything. Me? I agree with Michel. None of my business.”

“Sure you don’t want to talk about your lead? I might be able to help.”

“With all due respect, Commander, I’d rather check it out thoroughly before I say anything. I could be totally off target.”

“Good luck, then. Think I’ll get me some food too.”

Still pissed from the confrontation with Rickett, Lucier went to the bar and ordered the drinks. If Rickett had anything to do with killing the multiracial gangbanger, Lucier bet he enjoyed every minute. The man clearly harbored some serious issues. Serious enough to kill a gay man?

D
iana
watched Lucier balance four drinks on the way back to the table. She relieved him of two. “You looked like you were ready to explode talking to that guy. Who was he and what was he saying?”

Lucier lowered his voice. “Name’s Dave Rickett, and he was saying bigoted things you wouldn’t want to hear.”

“About Keys?”

Lucier nodded.

“About being gay or being black?”

“Gay, but I think he was being tactful because he was talking to me. Oh, and he doesn’t believe in psychics.”

Diana raised her brows. “Thinks I’m a fraud, huh?”

“Yup. Wonder if he’s aware Keys worked for you. After all, it wasn’t a secret.”

“You think he’s involved in the murders?”

“Don’t know. Right now I’m more interested in what happened to Chenault and Alba, and I bet he’s involved.”

“You think they’re dead, don’t you?” she whispered. A big cheer went up in the crowd. She could barely hear her own voice.

“What?”

She repeated her question.

“Is that a psychic observation?”

“No. You know I can’t read you. You’re off my radar.” She noted his skeptical expression. “You are. Really.”

Emile’s voice over the audio system broke their reciprocal stare. “Now, as promised, we’re honored to introduce Diana Racine, the world-famous psychic. She’s kindly offered to read a couple of our patrons. Come on up here, Diana.”

Sotto voce
, she said, “Kindly, my foot.”

Applause and whistles rang out over the club.

“Here goes,” she said to Lucier.

“Be gentle with him.”

She winked. “Like that’s going to happen.”

On the way to the small stage, people begged her to call on them, but when Diana quieted the crowd, she said, “Since Emile snookered me up here, he should be my first read. What do y’all think?” A slight pink rose on Emile’s coffee-colored cheeks.

“No, no. Not me, Diana,” Emile said, backpedaling.

“Oh, come on. I won’t bite.” She waved him forward. “This was your idea, remember?”

The crowd went wild, and the regulars chanted, “Yeah, Emile. You first.”

Then the clapping began. A few people pushed Emile up onto the stage.

“You’re sneaky, Diana,” Emile whispered.

“No sneakier than you hoodwinking me into giving a few readings.”

“We’re a small club. Need all the help we can get. Pick someone else.” His sad puppy-dog eyes begged for release. “You’ve already seen too much of me,” he said in her ear.

“Not part of the reading,” she said. “Promise.”

“Enough secrets up there,” someone called out.

“Okay, okay,” Emile said. “I should’ve kept my big mouth shut, but I’m a good sport. Have at me, Miz Racine.”

“We need a table up here,” Diana said. “And a couple of chairs.”

A heavyset guy at a small table close to the stage lifted it up as if it were weightless, along with two chairs. He and his lady moved to the side of the room. Diana thanked him and said to Emile, “Have a seat, monsieur.”

A chuckle rose from the crowd.

“Oh, boy,” Emile said. “Caught in my own trap.”

“You asked for it, lover,” Miss Kitty called out. “Now all your secrets will be out in the open.”

Emile, still in his double-breasted suit but now with a lavender tie, parked himself in the chair. “She’d kill me, you know,” he mumbled.

“I figured.” Diana kept her voice soft until she said, “Now just relax, Emile. This is painless.”

“For you, not for me.”

The crowd laughed, but when Diana took his hand in hers, a hush came over the room. His hand was dry and soft. Delicate fingers, almost feminine. She looked into his dark eyes, half hooded by sleepy lids. A stubbly grayish beard sprouted on his long, narrow chin. Then she closed her eyes. You couldn’t hear a word in the crowd.

An image flashed before her eyes. Not the dead Keys but the vibrant, talented man she knew as Donny Harwood. The emotions pouring from Emile left no doubt as to his state of grief. “This is a sad day for you, Emile. Keys was like a brother, a soul mate. You have a heavy heart. You’ll miss him.”

“Yes, I will. He made everyone around him happy. He made Miss Kitty happy, and when she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“Why did you fear for his life?”

All movement in the club stopped. People froze with food halfway to their mouths. The bar stilled. Emile yanked his hand from Diana’s. She opened her eyes.

“I didn’t,” he said. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“If I’m wrong, I’m sorry. It’s what I felt.”

“Well, you felt wrong. Keys trusted everyone. He met up with the wrong person, that’s all. Now my reading is over.”

The crowd remained quiet, listening as the scene before them played out. Diana turned to them. “Anyone who’s seen me perform understands I say what I see. I try not to be invasive, but sometimes it happens.”

“This time you saw wrong,” Emile said. “You were right that I’ll miss Keys. He was my friend and brother. But everything else? No. Now who else wants to come up here?”

The audience looked around. Now the crowd wasn’t so eager to volunteer. Then someone yelled out, “Go on, Rickett. Since you’re such a non-believer, prove it to yourself.”

Diana searched the crowd. The voice came from the guy next to Rickett.

“Shut up, Michel,” Rickett said.

“What’s the matter?” someone called out. “You think she’s on the level? That why you’re afraid?”

“I’m not afraid,” Rickett shouted.

“Then go on up there,” another voice said.

Diana put her hands up, palms out. “Now people, no one should be made to sit for a reading, especially if they think I’m a phony. He’s not the first non-believer, and he won’t be the last.” Now for the hook. “The man’s afraid of me. Lots of people are. They have things to hide.”

“I don’t,” Rickett said.

Perfect
.

“Then go on up there,” someone called out.

“Yeah. If she’s a phony, your secrets are safe, and you have nothing to fear,” another voice chimed in.

“Now, now,” Diana said. “The man doesn’t want to come up here. I never force anyone when they’re afraid of what I might see.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Rickett said. “Reverse psychology. Doesn’t work, psychic lady.” He turned to his partner and said, “Let’s get out of here.” Then he tossed his plastic plate on a nearby table and fought his way through the crowd to the door.

“Okay,” she said. “Who’s not afraid?”

Rickett stopped and looked back.

Gotcha
.

But she didn’t. He scoffed and left.
Damn
.

People clustered in front while Diana read a few more audience volunteers. Nothing earth-shattering; no great revelations, but enough to keep the audience riveted and her reputation alive. One person turned out to be a total blank. She told him. Disappointed, he said his life was so boring he had nothing worth seeing. Everyone laughed. She wrapped up her act and left the small stage to a chant for more and a healthy round of applause.

She hadn’t performed in front of a crowd in almost a year, except for the kids at the hospital. She silently acknowledged that it was fun to read people without the aid of Keys or Jason, straight and honest.

“Nice try with Rickett,” Beecher said when she returned to the table.

“Worth a shot. I didn’t think he’d bite.”

“You were wonderful,” Adele Beecher said. “Now I can tell my bridge club I saw Diana Racine perform.”

“If you want, you can come with me to the children’s wing of the hospital when I go. That’s really fun. Heartbreaking sometimes, but the joy on the faces of those children is worth it.”

“I’d love to go with you. Let me know when you’re going.”

Diana said she would.

Lucier leaned closer. “For a minute, I thought you had him.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m afraid I was too transparent. He had my number from the get-go. The crowd helped supply pressure, but he wasn’t about to open himself up to whatever he’s hiding.”

“He has good reason. Michel too. ’Course, I have no proof. What was that with Emile? Was he really afraid for Moran’s life?”

“Yes, but that’s all I got. He’s not talking to me, did you notice?”

“He’ll get over it. Come on, let’s walk the Alley.”

“Good idea.”

“Diana and I are going to check out the rest of the shops,” Lucier said to the Beechers. “Want to come?”

“No, we’re going to finish here and go home. Enjoy a little down time. Have fun.”

“We should thank Emile and Miss Kitty,” Lucier said. Before they got to the door, Emile caught up with them from behind. “You got me good, Diana.”

“What? I didn’t get you at all.”

“Why did you fear for Moran’s life,” Lucier asked. “What are you holding back?”

“Nothing, Lieutenant. I swear.”

Lucier moved closer. “What did Moran tell you? If it’s Chenault you’re afraid of ―”

“It’s not.” Emile searched Diana’s face. “You promised.”

“A man’s dead, Emile,” she said. “A man we both cared about. I want his killer caught, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Emile glanced over at Miss Kitty. She smiled back. “Keys never said anything to me. It was more a feeling I got than anything he said. I didn’t like the cop who came in here and watched him play. He gave me the creeps. Slick-ass white guy.”

“What did he say about him?”

“Nothing. Keys kept his private life private. I knew there was someone, I just didn’t peg him for the cop because he came in here with that stripper, I forget her name. Then I saw him pick up Keys after work a few times. You think I’m in danger?”

“No, but be careful.”

“Oh, great. I’m in no danger, but be careful. Mixed signals, Lieutenant.”

“Best I can do.”

Lucier grabbed Diana’s arm and led her toward the door. Miss Kitty waited, acting as gatekeeper, controlling the crowd.

“Well, these two are leaving, which means two more can come in.” She let Lucier out and turned her attention to Diana. “Thanks for the show. Next time don’t pick on Emile. He almost messed his boxers thinking you might out him and Keys.”

Diana acted confused.
So she knew all along.
“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act dumb, honey. I’m aware of every move Emile makes. He doesn’t know I know, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it. Understand?”

Miss Kitty was far more astute than Diana had given her credit for. “You must love him very much.”

The tall, statuesque beauty turned to smile at Emile. “He’s a little prick sometimes, but I do.”

“Hey, are you coming?” Lucier said, poking his head back inside.

“Hold your horses, handsome,” Miss Kitty said. “Cherish your man, Diana. Good ones are hard to find. Or is it hard ones are good to find? I can never remember.”

Diana laughed. “Both. Thanks for the party. Keys would have loved it.” Meeting Lucier outside, she said, “Miss Kitty is a piece of work.”

“You got that right.”

They wandered down the alley, stopping in the other shops, sampling the homemade candies and yummy treats, when a camera flashed in her face.

Jake Griffin, her worst nightmare, reeking of tobacco and still sporting the Hollywood stubble he must have thought cool but only made him look silly.

“If it isn’t my favorite psychic,” Griffin said. “Don’t tell me you’re working on murder cases again. Keys Moran’s?”

She started to say something, but Lucier spoke first.

“Move along, Jake. You know Ms. Racine sometimes consults on our cases.”

“Yeah, but is she consulting on Moran’s murder,” he paused and stared at them with a cocky grin, “or the disappearance of two NOPD detectives?”