The Unknown Woman (4 page)

Charlotte looked weary as she took in this information. Matt guessed she’d had a stressful night.

“All the women who practice voodoo call themselves queens,” she said. “It comes from Marie Laveau’s tomb. It says she was a voodoo queen, so every claimant calls herself one, too.”

Matt noted how her gaze took in the details of the
room, as if she were searching for clues to what had happened earlier. In addition to the broken vase, which he’d knocked on the floor, the room had a disheveled appearance.

Clothing hung out of the lower drawers of the armoire as if someone had rifled through them. The notepad and pen beside the phone were askew, as if hurriedly pushed aside.

He was positive he hadn’t disturbed the room in that manner. Had the young woman…Patti, he corrected, glancing at Kerry, who now looked sad and drawn. Had Patti gone through his things, maybe looking for money for another drug hit?

“Kerry had nothing to do with this,” he said. “Can’t she go to her room? The police can get a statement from her tomorrow if they need it.”

“She’d better stay,” Charlotte told him, giving Kerry a sympathetic glance.

The security chief appeared at the door at that instant. “The police,” he announced and led two men inside. He introduced them as detectives from homicide. “Crime scene investigators.”

Charlotte moved away from the bed. “I’m not sure there’s been a crime. It may be an overdose.”

“We’ll check it out,” the older of the two men said. “Who found the body?”

“I did,” Matt said. “She was in my room when I came in. The electricity was off and I undressed in the dark, then went to bed. That’s when I discovered her—Patti.”

Both officers gave him a sharp glance. “You know her?” the older one asked.

“No,” he said.

“I did,” Kerry told them. “I met her today. She was my waitress at lunch.” She told them where. The younger detective wrote the info down. “Then she was the docent at the voodoo museum this afternoon, only she called herself Queen Patrice. She took my picture with Jolie—the python,” she added at the blank expressions on the men’s faces.

Matt reassessed Kerry’s delicate frame. If she’d agreed to have her picture taken with a snake as large as a python, she must be stronger than she looked.

And braver.

He liked the way she’d come over to help him out when he’d discovered a strange woman in his bed.

That showed a level of confidence that he admired.

Independent women appealed to him. Kerry wasn’t at all like the women in his family. For years, he’d wondered why his mom didn’t leave his father, a ruthless, controlling man. Finally he’d realized she couldn’t, that she didn’t know how to live her life without someone like her husband to take charge.

Or maybe she was willing to put up with the cold temper and authoritative ways in order to live a comfortable life as the wife of a successful lawyer and community leader.

He sighed and wondered what had brought about
these ruminations. Glancing at Kerry, who waited patiently beside him for the police to finish, he had an odd impulse to take her hand and kiss it to thank her for coming over, for being cool and levelheaded when confronted with such a difficult situation.

She looked over at him and gave him a wan smile that spoke of weariness and empathy.

After the detectives had gotten a statement from everyone, paramedics arrived with a gurney and quietly took the body of Patti, alias Queen Patrice, from the room.

Once the police and paramedics were gone, Charlotte and Matt walked Kerry to her door and bid her good-night, then continued to the next suite.

Charlotte unlocked the door with a master key.

“I’ll have a bellboy pack for you and bring you a key to this suite.”

“Fine,” Matt said.

“Thank you so much for your patience.” Charlotte shook his hand. “I can’t tell you how much I regret what has happened.”

He shrugged. “It was a shock, but things happen that are beyond anyone’s control.”

“I hope you rest well,” she said. She departed, leaving a battery-powered lantern for him.

Next door, he heard a slight noise and wondered if his neighbor would be able to sleep.

Glancing at the elegant bed in his new quarters,
he gave a rueful sigh, then secured the interior bolt and chain.

One ghastly surprise per night was more than enough for Matt.

T
HE SUN WAS HIGH
and the temperature in the sixties by the time Kerry emerged from her room on Sunday morning. Dressed in white slacks and a long-sleeved, green silky blouse, she crossed the courtyard on the way to Chez Remy.

Attempting to join in the spirit of the Mardi Gras season, she wore two earrings with dangling stars in her left earlobe and one earring, a smiling moon, in the other. This was good
Ju-Ju
, according to the street vendor who’d sold them to her. Between those and the charm bracelet, she should be safe from the city’s otherworldly elements. And shocks such as the one last night, she thought.

“Kerry, good morning,” a deep voice said.

Matt Anderson sat at an outside table. A waiter placed an insulated pitcher of coffee near his cup. The power had come on sometime in the night, and the staff must have worked overtime, because the hotel felt surprisingly back to normal.

“Join me?” he invited.

Kerry nodded. Matt stood and held a chair for her.

“I’m having the cold breakfast buffet, but there are hot items like eggs, bacon and grits if you want the full service.”

“Cereal and fruit is my usual, so I’ll have the cold buffet, too,” she told the waiter. “And coffee, please.”

The man flipped her napkin open, laid it across her lap, then filled a coffee cup for her. He departed, only to return in less than a minute with pitchers of water and orange juice. He filled the stemmed goblets already in place on the natural grass mats, then left Matt and Kerry.

“Did you sleep at all?” Matt asked, his deep-set eyes as solemn as a surgeon’s.

Kerry was taken aback as she gazed into eyes the color of the blue-eyed Marys that grew on her grandparents’ farm back home. His hair was blond with darker undertones, like fields of ripe wheat, and had a stubborn wave that the short, stylish haircut couldn’t quite subdue.

When he’d held the chair for her, she’d realized he was quite tall, probably six feet.

Last night, with all that had been going on, she’d been much too upset to notice just how impressive he was in the looks department. As if to belie the thought, a distinct memory of a toned body in black briefs with long, muscular legs flashed across her mind. With an effort, she forced it aside.

“Yes, actually I did.” She managed a smile. “It surprised me that I woke so late, even with all that hap
pened. I’m always up by seven at home, even on the days I don’t have to get to work.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Matt asked.

“Dental hygiene. I work in a clinic with four dentists and one other hygienist.”

“Do you like your work?”

“Very much. I get to do the good stuff for our patients. No drilling. No root canals. No tightening up braces until the patient feels like screaming.”

He returned her grin as she described the tortures of dentistry. “You’ve made me recall why I hated going to the dentist as a kid—braces.”

“Yes, but now you have a perfect smile.”

“So the pain was worth it,” he concluded. He raised his juice glass in a toast to her. “So do you,” he said. “Here’s to the good neighbor who came to my rescue last night.”

His expression became serious and he gave a sigh that she thought he was unaware of. She suppressed the need to reach out and touch him in sympathy. Death wasn’t something either of them could shake off easily.

At that moment, a man and woman crossed the courtyard, each pulling luggage behind them. “We’ll sue,” the man muttered to his companion. “We’ll get back every penny we’ve spent on this vacation and then some. Bunch of thieves.”

Kerry felt very sorry for whoever was working the registration desk and had to handle the couple and their complaints. There was total silence in their wake,
then the other diners began talking again, but in lower tones.

She overheard a man say his room looked as if it had been ransacked. Nothing was missing, his wife reported, but she’d heard things were taken from other rooms.

Matt gave her a troubled glance, “Sounds as if a lot of bad stuff happened last night.”

Oblivious to human problems, a fat bee droned by, then circled Kerry’s head. She sat perfectly still, then smiled as it landed on a fresh lily in the delicate porcelain vase on the table. It snuggled in the trumpet for a minute, then emerged heavy with pollen.

She and Matt chuckled together as it flew off in a rather precarious manner, as if drunk with nectar.

Matt studied her in a way that made her feel warm and maybe a little uneasy. She envisioned those long legs, the black briefs…

Then she remembered why she’d been in his room and her thoughts sobered.

“Kerry,” he said. When she glanced up, he asked, “What made you sigh?”

“Patti,” she murmured. “It’s so odd to think that a person I was talking to yesterday is…gone. She was so nice, so full of life. Although I think she was putting me on a bit with her voodoo routine and taking my picture with the python.” She paused and considered. “But it was odd that she knew things about me, things I know I didn’t tell her.”

“Such as?”

“Well, she knew I had one nephew and two nieces. She suggested gifts for them. And this charm bracelet for me.”

When she laid her arm on the table so he could see, he placed his large, warm hand over hers and studied each charm. “Bones, a
gris-gris
bag, a cross—” he began to recite.

“She said it had been blessed with holy water and would protect me from vampires and werewolves,” Kerry told him. “I didn’t realize the city had werewolves as well as vampires and ghosts.”

“I think the vampires came from some popular novels. I’m not sure about the werewolves. Voodoo, as a religion, pays homage to various spirits, such as the Earth, the Forest, Wisdom, Healing, those kinds of things. It originated in the Benin region of Africa hundreds of years ago, according to the book I bought.”

“Then it was transported here with the slave trade?”

“Right.” He pointed to the camera tucked into a pocket of her purse. “You said Patti took your picture with a python. Did she use your camera?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a digital? Do you have pictures of your family on it?”

“Why, yes. From Christmas.” She retrieved the camera and clicked back from the three photos of her and Queen Jolie. “Here’s one of my sister, her husband and their kids.” She held the camera out for him to see.

“You and your sister favor each other,” he said.

“Yes. That’s probably how she figured out the one nephew and two nieces. That info almost made me believe she really could read palms.” Kerry remembered the voodoo ceremony that night. “That reminds me, Patti gave me a ticket to a ceremony to be performed tonight by an ‘old voodoo queen.’ At least that’s what she said.” Kerry found the ticket in her purse and read the information to Matt. “I wonder if I should go.”

Matt frowned.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The woman at the voodoo museum I visited gave me one, too. When I got the book for my mother.”

“Was she dressed in a purple blouse with a matching scarf and a skirt of purple, gold and green? She had really long false eyelashes and bands of purple and gold shadow on her eyelids.”

“I don’t remember the colors, but those eyelashes were incredible. I couldn’t figure out how she held her eyes open.”

A chill ran along every nerve in Kerry’s body as Queen Patrice’s words reverberated through her.

…follow the shining path that begins tonight, Twelfth Night, all the way to the summer solstice or else you’ll forever change the course of your history and all who touch your life on this day.

“Are you going?” she asked Matt.

He shrugged. “I have a tasting this afternoon.”

Kerry wondered what that meant.

“Sorry,” he said as if reading her mind. “I write ar
ticles on all phases of the wine industry from growing the grapes to serving the finished product. I’m covering New Orleans for a feature article on wine clubs and famous cellars in the area.”

“Sounds interesting,” she said sincerely. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get into the field?”

“A friend who was dating the managing editor of
Wines of the World
magazine suggested me for a big spread they wanted to do on New York wines. Since my family has interests in a vineyard and winery there, it was a natural fit. Besides working at the vineyard in the summer, I helped my mother put on a charity auction featuring premium wines each year.”

“I see.”

“Once the article came out, I received an award from a New York wine growers’ association for my work. After that, I was a ‘known’ expert and a lot of assignments came my way. I liked the independence of being a freelance writer, so I quit my newspaper job and focused on writing about wines. Lucky for me, the timing worked out. Wines are just becoming hot.”

“To take a chance like that would require more courage than I have.” Kerry confessed.

“I don’t know about that,” Matt teased her. “It takes a lot of courage to have your picture taken with a python and come to the aid of a stranger during a blackout.” He smiled at her. “Shall we help ourselves to the buffet?”

They were mostly silent as they ate. Kerry noticed a
family heading for the registration desk with their bags and wondered if a lot of the guests were checking out. The blackout had been disturbing, even without the death.

She glanced at Matt and realized she was drawn to him, not only because of their shared experience, but in other ways, too.

There was more to him than good looks, she realized. He seemed thoughtful, with a candidness that she liked. He’d taken a chance and gone out on his own, making a success of his career. That had taken confidence and courage, and lots of hard work.

Over fresh cups of coffee and warm beignets from the buffet, they spoke of Patti again.

“I wonder who she really was,” Kerry said. “The friendly waitress, the voodoo queen, the punk or ghost or whatever she was supposed to be last night.”

“After finally going to bed I couldn’t sleep,” Matt said grimly. “Every time I closed my eyes I saw that white face and the black eyes. She looked ghastly, in my opinion.”

“She was really quite lovely, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Really,” she added at his skeptical frown. “She looked like a movie star.”

“I called the detective this morning,” Matt told her.

“One of the two who came last night? I didn’t think of that. I was curious about her and wondered if they’d discovered the cause of death. What did he say? Did they contact her family?”

Matt shook his head. “She wrote that she had no next-of-kin on the employment forms she filled out for the restaurant.”

“Oh. What about the museum?”

“The detective didn’t mention it.”

Kerry blinked the sting of tears from her eyes. “She was so nice to me. She seemed to know I was alone and lonely.” Her voice sounded shaky, but she hurried on, “Anyway, she sort of took me under her wing and advised me on what to do in the city. I guess she recognized a small-town gal when she saw one.” Kerry managed a brief laugh at the description.

“A Florence Nightingale,” Matt corrected softly. “That’s what I thought of last night when you came to my door, lantern in hand. I was grateful for your offer of help. I didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation at the moment. I thought the woman had passed out.”

“It’s difficult to get over the shock of a death like that,” she murmured, “even when it’s someone you don’t really know. But if she has no family, what will happen to her?”

“The detective said the medical examiner would have to perform an autopsy to discover the cause of death. My guess is she overdosed on something. She may have gotten hold of a bad mix. Then…I don’t know…I suppose they have public cemeteries for cases like this.”

“That’s so sad, not to have anyone who cares if you live or die.”

His hand touched hers again. “Don’t cry,” he said in a tone that flowed around her like a gentle breeze and nearly made her lose it.

She managed to keep the tears at bay. “It’s just that I had this cousin who…” Kerry had to stop and swallow. She sucked in a harsh breath. “She committed suicide.”

He looked concerned. “When did this happen?”

“Three years ago. The terrible thing was that I’d seen her that morning and asked if things were okay. She said they were, and I believed her. Then she rowed out to the middle of the lake and jumped in. She was a good swimmer but she drowned anyway. The water was icy cold and her clothing weighed her down.”

“My God,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never understood it. We were best friends. How could a person go off without a word to anyone and do that?” She stared at him in entreaty, as if he could explain it so she would understand and the aching hurt would go away.

“I don’t know.” He hesitated, then added, “I think your situation was worse than what happened to my sister. At least my family knew how she died and that it wasn’t her intention.”

“Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry for making you remember something terrible in your life.”

“It’s been sixteen years,” he said. “I was twenty-one, a senior in college. She was in Africa with a charity group. A rare virus broke out in the area where
they were working, but before the doctors could identify and control it, fifty villagers and five volunteers were dead.”

Kerry felt his pain in spite of the calm way he reported the facts and the time that had passed since the tragedy.

“There was a civil war going on. It took weeks to find out that she died, and months to retrieve her body. That was hard on my mother. When we finally had the burial in our family graveyard, it gave us closure.”

“But it still hurt,” Kerry said softly.

“Yes, it still hurt.”

They fell silent, staring into each other’s eyes, and Kerry realized that they were holding hands, their fingers tightly clasped as if each saw the other as a lifeline in a world of sadness and grief.

“Fresh coffee?” a familiar voice inquired.

The tension of the moment broke, and she withdrew her hand from Matt’s.

“Henri,” Kerry said, glad for the diversion. She was slightly unnerved by the deep connection she’d felt with Matt. “Do you work day and night?”