A Christmas Kiss (15 page)

He put his chopsticks down on the edge of his plate. "You might have mentioned this earlier." He swallowed and waited. The events of the afternoon were too fresh in his mind. Now, along with the entire DeCarlo clan and their various factions, he could add Danny Dupray to the list of possible suspects.

There was every chance that Kit had been taken not by DeCarlo, but by Dupray. Kit could easily have found out something major about Danny and his illegal operations. Cori had no idea that she'd just stuck her foot into a nest of vipers. Like snakes, sometimes these men didn't need a good reason to strike.

"I had to do it, Joey. I knew you wouldn't let me. Danny knew Kit." She rolled her eyes. "Far better than I ever thought, as it turns out."

"What do you mean?" Joey picked up the small, bowl-shaped cup beside his plate and drank the light, hot tea.

"It's the candy." She expected to see impatience in his eyes, but he showed nothing. "I thought that was special between Kit and me." She thought she'd be more emotional, but since the shooting, her emotions had been totally calm. "It appears maybe it wasn't the secret I thought it was."

Interest tugged at Joey. "What do you mean?"

"Remember I said we communicated with the chocolates?" She saw him nod. "That's why I thought Kit was leaving the candy for me. It was our old secret talk. Danny had a dancer wearing a costume made of chocolate kisses. He said Kit gave him the idea." Cori looked down into her teacup. "I guess Kit could have told some other people if he told Danny." It hurt to admit that what she'd taken as something very special between her and Kit had not been all that special to him.

"How did Dupray make this point?" Joey put down his cup and listened intently. In an effort to protect Cori, he'd called Captain Blake and checked on all reports filed on the shooting. There was no clue as to who the sniper was who had killed Benny Hovensky. Not a single clue. That fact troubled Joey, who knew that only the most professional killers could leave a scene without a single shred of evidence.

"Danny had the girl come out and dance. To 'Silver Bells.' I don't think that song will ever have the same imagery." She sipped the tea. "I know you're angry with me, but I wanted to tell you the truth."

"Since you lived to vocalize it." Joey was beyond being frustrated. He had actually accepted the fact that Cori was going to do exactly the opposite of what she should.

Cori was attempting to follow Joey's train of thought. "So... you think the man I saw was someone hired to pretend to be Kit."

Joey nodded. "That's what I think."

"This is aimed at frightening me out of testifying."

"That's the way I see it," Joey said.

"And you think whoever is trying to frighten me hired that Benny person to kill me, and then killed him___"

"Right in front of you."

"To frighten me even more. But why not just kill me?"

"The fat lady hasn't sung yet, Cori. One witness is dead. Murdered. There's nothing to stop them from killing you, except it would be better if you
refused
to testify. That way DeCarlo's defense attorney could imply that maybe you weren't so certain, maybe
you
were having second thoughts. And a second murder would have all the high-powered politicos throwing money all over the place to 'resolve the threat of danger to our citizens who dare to tell the truth.' It would be better if you simply didn't testify, but don't think they won't kill you if that's what it comes down to."

"That's pretty cynical-sounding."

"I'm a cynical kind of guy." After the talk he'd had with his boss, following his visit to Blake's office, he had to be cynical and tough as old boot leather. Bascombe had threatened to "skin him alive" if anything happened to Cori. He'd also given him a deadline of six hours to get her out of the State of Louisiana. Joey considered that by crossing the river for lunch, he was headed toward Texas, even if his pace was a lot slower than he'd hoped. If Cori found out he was gradually easing her west, she'd no doubt put on the brakes, or worse, bolt and run.

"I don't think you're cynical at all." Cori made the pronouncement as she put down her cup. "If you were really cynical, you would have turned in the paperwork on me and let me out of the program. You would have decided that I was going to do what I was going to do, and that you could have no effect on the outcome."

"And that's pretty much the way things have turned out." Joey couldn't help the self-deprecating smile he gave her. It wasn't a funny situation, but he'd never been so hornswoggled by a witness as he had been by this average-sized female.

"But you didn't drop me. You didn't give up. You didn't resign yourself to the inevitable. Therefore

—" she reached across the table and picked up a fortune cookie from the tray "--you don't qualify as cynical."

Joey cracked his own cookie open and pulled out the white slip of paper. When he read it he smiled, his dark eyes burning with merriment. " 'You are in control,'" he read, laughing. "Is that one ever off!"

Cori unfurled her paper. " 'Do not sit quietly when the music plays.'" She looked at Joey, remembering for one brief instant his offer to teach her to dance, and the conflicting emotions that it generated in her.

"Now, that sounds like fate stepping in." Joey suddenly knew his next step. He knew exactly what he had to do, and how he was going to accomplish it. He picked up the check and reached for his billfold. "Are you ready?"

The look in his dark eyes warned Cori, but they also excited her. "Depends on where we're headed."

"New Iberia." He spoke the words casually, then let his generous mouth twist into a smile that could not quite hide his own excitement. "We're going to visit the family."

"I don't believe I can find Kit Wells in New Iberia."

"That may not be true." He waited for her to gather her purse. "Kit found you in Houston and again at Jolene's. Someone has been following you all over the city. There's a place near New Iberia. A place where we might be able to set a trap."

"Why not do it here, in New Orleans?" Cori had the distinct impression that Joey would do anything to get her out of the city, even pretend that he was setting up a trap.

He paid the check, pocketed his change and ushered her out into the evening. "I'll be honest with you, Cori. Our office is understaffed. We can only do a certain amount of protection, and you've made it very hard."

"I know that."

"Good, then you've also got a feel for Jake Lewis and some of the NOPD officers."

"Kit's so-called friends."

"They may be friends of Kit, but I don't think you should consider them your friends."

"I've come to that conclusion." Cori idled slowly by Joey's side through the parking lot and toward the Supra.

"I grew up in New Iberia. I have friends there. Real friends. If I wanted to set up a trap, I could count on them not to shoot me in the back."

She saw his point, but she also didn't want to leave the city. Kit was close. Joey didn't believe it was him, but she was still positive. "If you set a trap, who do you think you'll catch?"

"Maybe the people who are torturing you. Maybe the folks who killed Emmet Wyatt. Maybe someone who knows the truth about your husband's disappearance."

"Because you think it's all related."

"I do."

She paused when he opened the car door. "How can we be certain Kit wilt know where I've gone?"

"We'll go back to the French Quarter, and we'll leave a trail of bread crumbs. If Kit is out there, we'll leave him a clearly marked trail to follow."

The idea of another night filled with visitations by a man everyone thought was dead chilled Cori to the bone. But she had to find the truth. She had to. So she could have her life back, or whatever remained of it.

Joey saw her hesitation, and he covered her hand on the top of the door with his own. "We can do this, Cori. You want resolution, we can find that. But you have to be some place safe before I'm willing to risk helping you. It has to be a situation where I have control."

"Okay." She looked into his eyes and saw relief.

"You have to promise me you'll do whatever I say." He wanted the ground rules clear. If he was going to risk Cori and his friends, he had to make sure she would do exactly as be said.

"This time I promise." She held her hands out in front of her to show her fingers were uncrossed.

She looked so childlike, so vulnerable, that Joey couldn't resist. "Even learning to waltz," he said sternly.

Cori suddenly felt his arms around her, holding and guiding. It was only a fantasy, but she knew that she wanted that sensation, if only for one night. "You've got it."

Joey almost bent to kiss her, but he stopped himself. She was a woman near the edge. A woman someone wanted dead. His job was to protect her, to make sure she survived. Kissing her was out of line. Unprofessional. And damn tempting. Instead, he squeezed the hand beneath his on the door. "We can do this."

"Just remember what happened to Hansel and Gretel when they left a trail of bread crumbs," Cori said as she ducked inside the car and let him shut the door.

Joey parked the black car in deep shadow by the side of the Twinkle.

"You think Kit will contact Danny?" Cori asked, unsure now that Joey's plan was about to be set in motion.

Joey reached across the car seat and took her hand. "I'm going to be honest with you, Cori. I think Kit Wells is dead. But I do believe someone is imitating him and trying to frighten you out of testifying. Or trying to make you doubt yourself."

"And you think Danny knows who this person is?'' It did not matter that Joey didn't believe Kit was alive. He believed
something
had happened. That was the important thing. He had finally conceded that she could not have smuggled the chocolates into Chez Jolene in her jeans or shoes. Someone else had put them there. Someone who
looked
like Kit Wells.

"Danny is my best bet." He'd given the report of the alleged abduction and murder of Kit a lot of thought. If Kit had been killed, as the report stated, then someone had to have tipped the hit man off as to where Kit would be. And everyone would have assumed he would be at his wedding reception. So the person who had set Kit up had been at the wedding. He had called in when Kit left, and the tipster had to know where Kit was going. There was no other way it could work. Jake Lewis and a lot of NOPD officers were on the scene, and they would very likely have known Kit's destination.

"Why Danny?"

"He's the easiest to manipulate. The most believable source. He's been a pimp for the police, selling information for several years now. People like Danny have no loyalties. They sell to the top dollar, so this information would be valuable to him. If I showed up at police headquarters and filed my travel plans with them, it would look very suspicious. With Danny, I can drop a few hints, and he'll know exactly what I'm saying. Once he puts it together, then he either gives it, or sells it, to his buyer."

"And who do you think that might be?"

"Ben DeCarlo." It was the most obvious answer. "He doesn't want you at the retrial. One witness is dead. If you won't testify, then he's only got three to work on."

"Whatever happened to the waitress?" Cori remembered her. She'd been pretty, in a hard kind of way. The shock of the murder had really upset her.

"She's safe, and a lot more cooperative than you are, I might point out," Joey said. He was ready to go inside, but he didn't want to rush Cori. In a short amount of time he'd come to know her pretty well. It was the set of her shoulders, the angle of her head, that told him of her fear. Danny Dupray had revealed some hurtful things to her. Was it more pain she feared? More revelations of a past that didn't exist as she remembered it? Or was she afraid Danny would hurt her?

"What about the other witnesses? Are they safe?"

"They're fine, Cori."

"They'll come back to testify?"

"They've indicated they would." What choice did they have? He didn't ask that question out loud.

They were under the thumb of the federal government. Their lives had been taken, and they were hooked to a federal leash, just as Cori was.

"What would happen if none of us testified?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "I don't honestly know. The evidence against DeCarlo was so strong because we had five eyewitnesses to the crime. Five people, from all walks of life, saw a hideous crime committed, and they all gave up their lives so that justice could be done. That was powerful. The jury couldn't ignore it—that you witnesses believed enough to give up everything. That you braved the long reach of the mob to tell the truth."

"But it was the evidence that convicted him, right? The bullets..."

"It was the eyewitnesses who cinched the case." He did not want to downplay her role. They needed her testimony, and the testimony of all the other witnesses, if Ben DeCarlo was going to stay behind bars.

"Why did Emmet Wyatt come back to New Orleans?" This question nagged at her.

"I'd like the answer to that, too. He never notified us that he was coming here. We thought he was in Atlanta. In fact, one of the other marshals had taken a call from him the day before. It was routine, he wanted some travel documents for a vacation to France. He was chatty, informal, happy-sounding. He never mentioned that he'd booked a flight to New Orleans two weeks earlier."

"Why do you
think
he was in New Orleans?"

Joey looked at the back door of the club, which had opened. Two girls in scanty costumes came out. Both lit up cigarettes and puffed. "I guess they have to come out here to get some peace and quiet,"

he said.

"Tell me what you think about Wyatt." Cori wasn't willing to drop the subject, though she knew Joey would prefer to let it go.

"I think he'd been contacted in some way. I think he was at the docks to make some type of connection with someone."

"He didn't have a dead fiancee or wife who might be luring him back, did he?" Cori tried to make her tone light, but she heard her voice quiver.