Target (28 page)

Predictably, Delia said, “Call me Delia,” in her best smoky voice and extended a long, smooth, perfectly manicured hand.

Angel shook hands with visible care.

Since he'd introduced the two himself the previous night, the charade amused Nick. He admired Sarah's blank face. Talented actors on every side. That wasn't such a comfortable idea.

“You must have been coming to see us today,” Delia said, thrusting her head forward and emphasizing each word. “Just the way you said you would at Ona's. I do like a man who keeps his word. I apologize for not being there to greet you.”

She was hiding Angel's tracks! Nick grinned. Delia didn't want her bodyguard to blow his cover in front of the cops.

The bodyguard gave Delia a million-watt smile and she took a breath deep enough to be heard. She let her appreciation of the big man, his curly, dark blond hair and much darker brows show, and actually touched a white scar along the right side of his jaw. “My,” she said, “that must have been painful.”

“Not really,” Angel said, still flashing his killer smile.

Nick noticed a rhythmic tapping and traced it to the toe of Sabine's left shoe. Her feelings showed. She didn't give a rat's ass about any of the small talk, she wanted her Ed back.

“What do you know about Ed Webb?” Nick asked Angel. “About where he is?”

“Ed drives a red pickup some of the time, doesn't he, Mrs. Webb?” Angel asked, ignoring Nick. “A Ford?”

Delia sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands went to her face.

“Yes,” Sabine said very softly. “Was there an accident? Did you see the truck?”

“Did you?” Delia asked.

“I saw the truck,” Angel told her. “Outside Buzzard's Wet Bar.”

“Last night?” Sabine crossed her arms tightly. “Why would it be there? Ed hardly ever drinks. He doesn't like taverns and places like that. It probably wasn't his truck.”

“It's his,” Angel said. “He was in Buzzard's early this morning, with a man Buzz didn't know. The two of them left, but Ed didn't drive away in his own vehicle. It's still there.”

N
ick's temper rose. He didn't want to be at the lab; it was too far away from Aurelie and the others, and having Angel splayed in a chair he'd moved where he could see through the window of Nick's office wasn't helping a thing.

Angel had been silent a long time when he said, “He's a night mover.”

It only took an instant for Nick to follow the other man's thought process. “Except for when he got to Ed,” he said. “That was late in the morning.”

“If our man was responsible for that.” Angel had a stillness about him. “Ed could have been telling the truth when he backed away from his original story.”

This wasn't a new idea to Nick. “Yeah, but this time he went missing in the night.”

“If he's gone missing.”

Nick thought about that comment. “Rather than what? Taking off on his own for some reason? He didn't take his truck, so he left on his own—we don't know how.”

“Could have been on foot. At first, anyway.”

“Could have been,” Nick agreed, pushing away from his desk and standing up. “Was there anything else on your mind?” If not, Nick needed to check in with Matt and he didn't want an audience.

“Yes. They're following up on ID found in the grave.”

“In California?” Angel had his attention now. “How do you know that?”

Angel shrugged.

“What's that going to accomplish? Colin made sure his ID was there with the others. Are they sure none of his bones are down there? In a different spot, or dragged off by something?”

“Yes,” Angel said. The sky was darkening again and he leaned to peer upward. “He wasn't there. There went our sun.”

“So he changed his identity. But we already figured that out. Damn. Matt and crew have got to get someone for Bailey's murder soon so I can put some time in looking for Colin. Whoever he's supposed to be now.”

“Matt won't want you to do that. Neither will the California cops—when they find out about you.”

Nick heard the first sharp pings of rain hitting the windows. “What would you do if someone murdered your mother?”

“I'd go after him. If I'd ever known my mother.”

“Sorry,” Nick said, although Angel's expression hadn't changed. “How did you get your information?”

“I asked for it.”

“I don't suppose it would do any good to ask who you talked to?” Nick said.

Angel shook his head, no. Once.

“There's something else I have to do,” Nick said. He didn't know why, but he trusted this man. “I want to know more about my mother, her history. And how Colin got his hands on her.” But he didn't trust Angel enough to talk about wanting to identify the father of Mary Chance's son.

“Whatever you do,” Angel said, “don't tip your hand on those plans. They'll find a way to stop you, at least till they get what they want, or give up.”

“How the hell would they do that?” Every way he moved, he hit a wall. “The law doesn't manhandle peaceful citizens and I don't intend to do something they could arrest me for.”

Angel turned from the window and got up. They stood, eye to eye over the desk, and Nick saw the slightest change in Angel's expression. Sympathy? Or a warning?

“The
they
I'm talking about aren't cops.”

“I
'm gonna turn down the air-conditioning,” Eileen Moggeridge said. Poke Around felt cooler than usual. “It's pretty cruddy outside but it's still hot. Not that it should make a difference to us in here one way or the other.”

Aurelie said, “Hmm,” and dropped an embroidered tablecloth on top of Hoover. He rolled over in the cushy dog bed Eileen had bought for him to use at the shop and let all four feet flop in the air.

At lunchtime, Aurelie had gone home and brought her mail back to the shop with her. An envelope from her former employers in New Orleans interested her, but made her nervous, too. It reminded her that she couldn't ignore her career forever. So far she hadn't opened the envelope.

There were plenty of reasons for her to stay put in Pointe Judah in the near future. She tried not to think Nick's name, or drift off into seeing his face—or anything else about him.

“I haven't seen so much of Matt lately,” Eileen said. “Maybe he isn't interested anymore.”

Aurelie studied her friend's face.

After doggedly insisting her friendship with Matt was no big deal, Eileen's frequently wistful manner, her frowns when she spoke of him, proved what Aurelie had already believed: Eileen wanted Matt. If Aurelie could make just one guess about what was going on, she'd say Matt was too tied up with trying to control big crime in a small town to have time left over for a love life.

Eileen gave a long sigh.

“He's busy,” Aurelie said. “There's too much on his plate and he doesn't have enough staff.”

“That's true.” Eileen smiled at her and some of the tension in the shop released.

Three customers, two women and a man, made piles of intended purchases on the counter. They were strangers who said they were from Indiana. One blonde who said, “Call me Suzanne,” had cleaned out the shop's collection of colored glass frogs and was considering a toothpick holder shaped like a sarcophagus. None of the shoppers seemed interested in Eileen and Aurelie's conversation.

Aurelie sat at one of the tiny tables near the espresso station, opened the envelope from the Caring Company and swiftly read the contents. She looked up to find Eileen watching her. “From my old employers,” she said. “Just people doing a job that gets dirty sometimes. They want me to consider working for them again. When I go back to the law, I'm starting over in another field.”

“When will that be?” Eileen didn't try to hide an anxious look. She didn't want Aurelie to leave.

“Not yet,” Aurelie said, smiling. “D'you think you can put up with me for a while?”

Eileen turned on the very high heel of one shoe and said, “I'll do my best,” over her shoulder.

She could open an office in Pointe Judah, Aurelie thought. There were a couple of lawyers in town but they were entrenched with the old school, the Patrick Damalis types in the area, and a lot of folks didn't hesitate to say they needed someone “with their feet on the floor who could do business without wanting lunch thrown in.”

It probably wouldn't work for Aurelie. There were stormy family times ahead. She couldn't see how they'd be avoided, and she didn't want to think about the chance that some really special relationships might not come through in one piece.

Sarah opened the shop door and Aurelie felt as if she'd conjured them up—Sabine came in with Sarah and exuded misery.

“Have they found Ed?” Aurelie asked, then wished she hadn't.

It was Sarah who answered, “No,” in a flat voice. She was growing her hair a little longer and it flipped up in soft curls all over. Aurelie liked it. She liked Sarah's out-of-character chocolate-colored silk pants and tank top, too.

What had influenced the sudden, more feminine appearance, Aurelie had no idea.

Sure she did.

This was in anticipation of running into Nick.

Very soon she and Sarah needed to have a talk, about the present and future complications facing them. “You're looking sexy, Sarah,” Aurelie said. “That color is super on you.”

Sarah cracked a smile and said, “Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself.”

Sabine presented Aurelie with her profile and the set of her features was grim.

Bending over Aurelie, Sarah asked quietly, “Can you come out to my car? I'm worried about Sabine.”

Aurelie nodded. She got up. “I'm going to pop out for a few minutes, Eileen, okay?”

Eileen nodded.

Sabine all but ran from the shop, with Sarah and Aurelie hurrying behind. Before they could get into the car, Sabine faced Aurelie. “I don't believe a word of it,” she said. “And I don't like that Buck Dupiere. Real sure of himself, that one is. He doesn't smile when he gives you the bad news, but me, I can feel how he enjoys himself.”

“We're getting wet,” Sarah said, grimacing at wet spots on her silk outfit. “Please get in the car.”

Sabine immediately scrambled into the cramped backseat of the red Miata. Aurelie and Sarah got into the front and swiveled around to look at Sabine. “What's up?” Aurelie asked.

Sarah squeezed her hand, communicating for her to give Sabine time.

Tears ran freely from Sabine's dark eyes. Her burnished skin hid most of the bluish marks under her eyes, but not all. The woman didn't look at all like her usual sunny self.

“They're lying,” Sabine said. “They're trying to frighten me into giving something away and it won't work because I don't know anything.”

Aurelie waited. She smiled encouragement at Sabine.

“Buck called me not an hour after I got back to Place Lafource this morning.” She gulped. “He said Ed's got a record. For awful things. Armed robbery. Dealing drugs. So many things. Now Buck says he thinks Ed's got something to do with the assaults here and he deliberately pretended he'd been attacked at Place Lafource to cover for himself.” Her voice trailed away. “He said Ed changed his story because he didn't want the police looking around too close.”

“Oh, Sabine.” Aurelie couldn't bear what this was doing to a good friend. “Just because Ed went out of town, the police can't pin anything on him. I think Buck was fishing, that's all. He was testing you to see if you were hiding something about Ed.” Buck would have run a check before saying such things to Sabine, but Aurelie wanted to console her.

“If I knew anything, I wouldn't tell them,” Sabine said in a loud, choking voice. “If all those horrible things Buck said are true, I wish Ed had told me. I love him anyway. He's a good husband to me and he hasn't done anything wrong since we've been together. I'd know if he had. We don't have any family. I don't know what to do. That's why I went to Sarah.”

“You've always got us,” Sarah said at once. “Stay there. I'm taking you back to Delia. We're going to deal with this and it'll turn out okay.” She opened her door and indicated for Aurelie to join her in the parking lot.

Sarah made a run through the warm, steaming rain to stand beneath an awning on the new pastry shop next to Poke Around. When she got there, Aurelie waved at the shop owner, Felice, through the window.

“What are we going to do?” Sarah asked. “Should we go to the police station and ask Buck to tell us exactly what he knows?”

“It doesn't work like that,” Aurelie told her. “He'd say it's none of our business. He doesn't have to share information with us.”

Sarah screwed up her face. “That pisses me off, sis. Why would he accuse Ed of things like that?”

Aurelie turned to look out through rain pouring from the edge of the canvas awning. “He wouldn't if he didn't have proof. They've done a check on Ed and he's got a record. Pretty colorful record from the sound of it.”

“I don't believe it.”

“Believe it, Sarah. No cop is going to make up things like that, not if he wants to keep his job.”

“So there's been a felon living in Place Lafource, with Delia?”

“People do reform,” Aurelie remarked. “I'm not afraid for Delia or for Sabine.”

“I want Nick's opinion,” Sarah said. “We have to tell him.”

“Sure. But I do think I can make my own decisions. So can you. We don't need permission from Nick.”

Sarah got a faraway look in her bright blue eyes. “I just feel better when I know what he thinks. He thinks so clearly. I'll trust whatever he decides.”

“Right,” Aurelie said. She didn't dare say what she really thought. And if she was worried about Sarah's feelings for Nick before, now she felt frantic—and guilty. “Take Sabine home. She needs comfort and Delia will make sure she gets it.”

“You think it's okay to have her at Lafource with Delia?” It was obvious that concern for Delia was the only reason for Sarah's concern.

“I do think it's okay,” Aurelie told her. “Get her home. I'll see if I can find Nick so we can talk to him.” She almost said that he would know what to do but stopped herself and almost laughed.

“You're right. He'll know what to do.” Sarah shot away to the car, got in and drove off with Sabine.

Aurelie smiled to herself. She stood on the sidewalk, rubbing at her forehead. Too bad she couldn't rub herself a fresh supply of energy. The knot she'd started carrying around in her stomach drained her.

She returned to Poke Around, just in time to pass the same group of shoppers who had been there when she left.

“You don't look so good,” Eileen said when she saw Aurelie. “How about some coffee?”

“In other words I look as crappy as I feel. Coffee's a good idea.” She went to the bright red espresso machine and picked up a mug. “You want something?”

“No, thanks. Aurelie, what's going on?”

Muscles in Aurelie's shoulders were so tight, they hurt. She couldn't give Eileen a straight answer. “There aren't any breaks in the case.”

“I understand,” Eileen said. “Make your coffee. I'm hoping we get a busload or two through today. Business is good but it can always be better. Do you think I should call Matt? Just to let him know he's on my mind?”

Aurelie smiled while she poured steamed milk on top of the coffee in her mug. “That's what I would do, but some people tell me I should think longer before I follow my instincts. Hoover! What's in your mouth? Come here.
Now
.”

“I'm going to do it,” Eileen said. “Seems like everyone's mad at him. I'm going to invite him to dinner.”

“Do it. Great idea. Oh, no.” She knelt beside Hoover and lifted his head. A piece of biscotti stuck out of his mouth and he sucked and drooled over it. “Darn it, boy, you're naughty. Where did that come from?”

The dog worked his lips, drawing in the big cookie, and Aurelie saw where he'd found it. A large box of assorted biscotti had been put down on its side. Hoover had taken advantage of a loosened piece of tape and burrowed inside.

“You're a rotten dog,” Aurelie said. “Give me that.” She attempted to wrestle the slimy biscuit out of his mouth, and lost the contest.

“Don't you be mean to him,” Eileen said, laughing. “That must have fallen out of the box and he was trying to help by cleaning up. Here, darlin'. Have a fresh one.” She peeled the crackling paper away and set a fresh biscotti in the dog's bed.

“Oh, look,” Aurelie said, baring her teeth in disgust. “Half-chewed jelly beans in his bed.” She began scooping the sticky mess from beneath Hoover and pulled out pieces stuck to his fur. At the same time she removed the new treat Eileen had given him. “You're going to get sick, silly boy.”

The sound of screeching tires grabbed Aurelie's attention and she looked out to see two police cars hit loose surface grit in front of the condos where Nick lived. Nick was just climbing out of the Audi and slammed the door with enough force for the noise to travel as far as Aurelie.

“Looks like more upset,” Eileen said. “They're all so mad all the time.”

“It's frustration,” Aurelie said, but she was tired of posturing males throwing testosterone around. “I'm going over there.”

“No, you're not.” Eileen hurried to Aurelie's side. “You think the police wouldn't send you on your way? You'd feel like a fool. And how about Nick? He doesn't want his little sister muscling in to protect him against the big bad policemen.”

Along the sidewalk outside came Joan Reeves and the photographer, Vic. Joan was put together like a model ready for the runway—all in shades of brown and cream. Vic was his usual casual self, not that he needed sexy clothes to make him a standout.

Smarting from Eileen's dart to the heart about acting like Nick's protective little sister, Aurelie didn't feel like facing this duo, but in they came. Joan's makeup was expertly applied and it showed just how beautiful she could look.

“Hi, Joan,” Eileen said. She sent a sheepish glance in Aurelie's direction. “You lookin' for that special gift, folks. You surely do look great, Joan. Going to a party?”