Authors: Susan Andersen
The Blue Room was empty when they got there and Beau paused in the doorway, looking around. “Do I have your express permission to search here?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Let’s open up the locked stuff, then. There’s far too many people in and out of here for him to risk leaving anything incriminating in plain sight.”
She wanted to protest Edward’s innocence again, but she held her tongue and handed Beau the key ring. He’d taken her seriously when she refused to divulge Edward’s habits without an explanation, and even knowing she was furious with him, he had trusted her with sensitive information. It was more faith than she was accustomed to receiving, and he deserved equal respect.
One of the keys fit the set of cabinets on either side of the ornately carved built-in bookcases. Neither contained whatever it was Beau sought. He fit the remaining key into the drawer keyhole of a small antique desk, and Juliet held her breath when he pulled it open.
“Shit.”
She exhaled again. “It
isn’t
him.”
“It is, Juliet. I feel it in my gut.”
“Well, your gut is wrong.”
Beau merely grunted and started removing books. Soon there were stacks surrounding their feet, but there was nothing to see except empty shelves. Swearing in frustration, Beau smacked one of the carved decorations with the flat of his hand.
A panel in the back of the wall slid silently open.
They both just stared at the dim opening for a moment. Then a crack of incredulous, exultant laughter exploded out of Beau, and he planted a hard, fast kiss on Juliet’s dumbstruck mouth and flashed her a crooked, self-deprecatory smile. “You gotta admire crackerjack detective work, huh? See if that little lamp will stretch over here.”
It did, and Juliet peered over Beau’s shoulder into the space it illuminated. Her heart immediately sank to her heels.
For an old-fashioned-looking pistol lay within, nestled atop a sizable pile of women’s underwear.
C
eleste completed her toilette and leaned forward to regard herself in the mirror. She picked up the Butler pearls and fastened them around her neck, shutting out the muffled sounds of footsteps and voices in the hallway outside her and Edward’s apartment.
It was an hour before the Grand Opening Ball was scheduled to begin, and there had been much coming and going since four o’clock this afternoon as the rooms on their floor slowly filled. She’d heard Juliet mention that the hotel was booked at eighty percent capacity for the evening, and Celeste had seen the reservations book for herself. It read like a virtual Who’s Who of the very cream of Louisiana society. Even several of the Boston Club people planned to spend the night, and they had perfectly grand homes of their own right here in town.
She wasn’t certain what she thought about that. Taking a sip from the minuscule glass of sherry on
her dressing table, she sat back in her seat. While part of her was thrilled to have such luminaries in her home for the second time in such a short space of time, this was no longer her home. And yet.…
All things considered, she felt rather…euphoric.
Juliet was scheduled to leave soon. Celeste hadn’t heard an exact date mentioned, but the young woman’s job would be done once tonight’s event was over. Perhaps she’d even leave as soon as tomorrow, if there was a God in His heaven. More importantly, that rude young Yat of a policeman had barely been around recently—and Lily had told her it was the talk of the staff that when he
was
here evenings, he slept in his own room. It was beginning to look as if she’d worried herself sick for nothing.
She and Edward had until the end of the month before they were required to give up their apartment here. Maybe tomorrow she’d begin looking for a new abode. Something small, yet elegant, in the right neighborhood, naturally. This evening would be a perfect time to query the people who mattered about the best places to begin her search.
With the money the Crown Corporation had contracted to pay her and Edward for being displaced from their home and for their services in introducing Juliet to the right people, a lovely little nest egg had been accumulated. If she could just convince Edward to sell them his mask collection as well, or at least a portion of it, money would never again be an issue.
She took another sip of sherry and reached for
her pearl earbobs, clipping them on and giving her reflection a nod of approval. She would simply regard the upcoming change as an adventure. For truly, although it was wrenching to lose the Butler estate, life was a trade-off. They’d always had the address but never the money that went along with it. Now, not only could they afford the amenities that made life worth living, but the one thing that was absolutely crucial to their quality of life—their standing in New Orleans’ society—was firmly intact. It had actually risen. Life was certainly strange sometimes, the way it seemed to hand one a problem of gargantuan proportions, only to have the reality turn out quite differently.
All things considered, her reality looked bright.
Juliet set down her mascara, smoothed her hair one last time, and checked her lipstick. She slid her hands up the halter straps of her bronze evening gown to the narrow band that connected them at her nape, making sure the six strands of amber beads draped correctly between the band and their attachments at the gown’s low-cut V back. Picking up a hand mirror, she turned to check the results.
They fell in perfect alignment, and she knew she really ought to hurry. The ball would begin in less than an hour and there were still a dozen details that needed attending. Instead, she found herself doing something she’d done far too much of recently: gazing blindly into the distance and thinking of Beau.
God, what was she going to do about him? By rights, she ought to hop the first plane out of here
tomorrow morning and head back to Boston, where she understood all the rules. Yet she hadn’t even called for flight schedules.
She was deranged; there was just no getting around it. Beau had flat-out told her he dreamed of a free and easy lifestyle that didn’t include her, so why was she considering hanging around New Orleans like some lovesick fool? She had more pride than that—at least she always had in the past.
And yet…
She
was
in love, and he kept giving her so many mixed signals. If he was all through with her, why did he keep kissing her? How could she tuck tail and run if there was a chance for them? She rather
liked
operating without a full understanding of all the rules when it came to him—even if it was stressful at the moment.
Wondering what on earth Beau was up to in regards to Edward Haynes added another dimension to her edginess. Not knowing when the police might arrive with the search and arrest warrants he’d left to get yesterday was a lot like waiting for the other shoe to drop in an old Hitchcock movie—and something she could easily do without.
She hadn’t seen a glimpse of Beau since he’d had her point out a pair of pruning shears that Edward routinely used, and bagged it to take with him for a fingerprint check. The two messages she’d left him at work had gone unanswered, and if he’d returned here to sleep last night, it was long past the time she’d finally given up waiting and fallen
asleep. She didn’t even know whether he planned to appear at tonight’s ball.
Giving herself a mental shake, she straightened her spine. She could go on like this all night, and accomplish absolutely nothing. She had a Grand Opening to conduct—an event her entire career had been building toward. She’d best be smart and see to it.
She could worry about the state of her love life tomorrow.
The ball was well under way and Juliet’s “to do” list had finally been whittled down to almost nothing when a woman’s voice spoke her name.
“Juliet, hello. Do you remember me?”
Turning from imparting final instructions to Roxanne, Juliet saw Beau’s petite sister approaching with Josie Lee and Luke and another couple. “Anabel! Of course I remember you; how have you been? You haven’t had any more reptiles in your bedroom, I hope.” She smiled at the man and woman she didn’t know and said, “Hello, Luke, Josie Lee.” For just a moment, before she caught herself, she looked beyond the small group in search of Beau.
“You’ve never met my sister Camilla, have you?” Anabel said. “And this is her husband, Ned Fortenay.”
Camilla smiled and extended her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. And thank you for inviting us. It’s a wonderful affair.”
Warmth bloomed in Juliet’s stomach, and she gave Beau’s sister a smile that was entirely genu
ine—a rare occurrence for her this evening. “Oh, bless you for saying that. My assistant and I have been so crazed trying to keep up with the details, we haven’t had a moment to stop and assess how we’re actually doing. It’s nice to know it’s all hanging together.”
“It’s doing more than that,” Josie Lee assured her. She snagged a glass of champagne from a roving waiter and saluted Juliet. “It’s a fabulous party. The food is wonderful, the music is spectacular even by New Orleans’ standards, and it’s a blast to see so many gorgeous gowns in one place.”
“Yours is certainly lovely.” A smile tugged up the corner of Juliet’s mouth as she admired Josie Lee’s floor-length, tomato-red, form-fitting sheath and added with an honesty she’d been trained to suppress, “I wish
I
had the wherewithal to hold up a strapless gown.”
“Me, too,” Anabel agreed gloomily. “All the boobs in the family went to these two. Talk about unfair, huh? So, where is Beau?”
Juliet found herself the cynosure of three pairs of dark, curious eyes, and was grateful to Luke when he said, “Beau has an assignment tonight.”
“I thought Juliet was his assignment,” Camilla protested.
“Not tonight. Something else came up.”
“But, Luke, what if someone attempts to harm her again—” Josie Lee grimaced at her tactlessness. “Sorry, Juliet. Sometimes my mouth works faster than my brain.”
“No one’s gonna get to her, anyway. Look around you, Baby Girl. Your brother made sure the
place was crawlin’ with cops. You probably just didn’t recognize them right away because they’re wearing tuxes. And I’m here,” he added, striking a wryly macho pose. “Speaking of which”—he ran his hand down Josie Lee’s bare arm—“you mind if I ask our hostess to dance?”
“Of course not.”
Luke turned to Juliet. “Would you care to dance?”
“I’d like that very much,” she said and excused herself to Beau’s sisters. With relief, she allowed Luke to lead her to the dance floor.
Holding her a respectful few inches away, Luke gazed down at her as they danced. “You okay?”
She looked up at him. “Oh, God, you know, don’t you?”
“Not the details. Beau just said you weren’t talking to him.”
She nearly strangled on her bitter laugh. “Yes, silly me. I tend to get a bit testy when I’m dumped so a man can fulfill his fantasy of sleeping with every woman in New Orleans.”
Luke stopped dead on the dance floor. “He
told
you that?”
People around them gawked in a subtle, well-bred sort of way, and Luke picked up the rhythm again. He shook his head, looking utterly bemused. “I can’t believe he told you that. He’s never talked about that to anyone but me.”
“Well, aren’t I the lucky little buckaroo.”
“I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I’m making everything worse.”
“No, I’m sorry. You were discreet in front of
Beau’s family and you’re being wonderfully sweet. I’m the one behaving abominably.”
“No,” Luke disagreed grimly. “That would be the idiot Dupree.”
She smiled. “You’re a nice man, Luke Gardener. Josie Lee’s extremely lucky.”
Suddenly there was a subtle sense of agitation around them—less a sound than a rustle of movement. Juliet glanced around to see what had caused it, and froze when she saw Beau bearing down on them.
His eyes were bloodshot, and with his shadowed jaw, grim expression, and old, worn jeans and a collarless denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, he looked dark, angry, and out of place. The first words out of his mouth did nothing to dispel the notion.
“What the hell are you doing dancing with Juliet Rose, Gardner? I thought you were supposed to be moon-faced in love with my sister.”
Although Beau was under the gun and racing a clock, something about seeing Juliet smiling up at his best friend ripped open an unknown streak of jealousy. But he forced himself to shake it off. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant to say at all. I’m actually glad you’re here, Luke—some serious shit is about to hit the fan.”
He reached out to stroke a fingertip down the smooth-skinned curve of Juliet’s shoulder. She looked so great in her sexy little gown, and he regretted he couldn’t take the time to appreciate it. He regretted a lot of things. “I’m sorry, dawlin’. I wouldn’t see your big night ruined for anything,
but the Pissant got wind of my investigation and he’s determined to turn it into a freakin’ sideshow.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Dupree?” Luke herded them from the dance floor into a quiet corner.
“I’m saying I’m maybe ten minutes ahead of him, Luke. Pfeffer’s taken the results of my investigation and plans to use them to very publicly search the Blue Room and arrest Edward Haynes. Here. Tonight. The sonofabitch is gonna wreck Rosebud’s big night just to get his face on the eleven o’clock news.” He scrubbed his hands across his face, then let them fall to his sides. “I walked in on him a while ago calling up the local stations. I disconnected him from Channel Eight, but you can be damn sure he called them back the minute I left—then probably went on to talk to Four and Six as well.”
“He’s going to arrest Edward here, tonight?” Juliet’s face was rapidly losing color. “At my Grand Opening?”
“Yes.”
“
Why?
”
“Because he’s a pompous bureaucrat with political aspirations.”
“But…I thought he was so enamored of my father.”
“That was yesterday, angel face. Today Daddy isn’t a registered voter in the parish of Orleans.” The look on her face was killing him. “I’m sorry—I’d planned to do this last night more privately, but by the time we matched up Haynes’s prints to
some taken from the crime scenes, I couldn’t track down a judge to sign the warrants. Look, do you know where Edward is? I have the warrants now and if I move real fast, I might be able to do this before Pfeffer gets here.”
“But what will that do to your career, Beau?”
“Not a damn thing.” Or so he hoped. Either way, he owed her—he’d been messing up her life right and left since the moment she’d hit town. “Let’s just find Haynes.”
They weren’t quick enough.
Beau had no sooner spotted Edward standing with Celeste over by the dining room entrance and alerted Luke and Juliet than the main door banged open and a group led by Peter Pfeffer swarmed through the entrance in a confusion of bright lights and loud voices. Pfeffer paused on the threshold to look around, got a bead on Edward Haynes, and made a beeline straight for him.
“Son of a bitch.” Beau stopped dead and turned to Juliet. And was hit with a sudden revelation that made his stomach burn and his hands go cold.
Oh, man. He loved her. After doing everything possible to flush it all down the tubes, he loved her.
Despite her pale, expressionless composure, he knew she felt sick underneath—and knew he’d do anything, give anything, to make things right for her. Why had it taken him so long to realize that his carefree bachelor days were far more fun in retrospect than in reality? Now, he’d probably blown the one chance he’d had for something really special.
He wrapped his hands around the back of Ju
liet’s neck and gently tilted her chin up with his thumbs. “I’ve gotta go administer whatever damage control I can. I’m really sorry about this shit exploding all over your big night, Juliet Rose.”
She didn’t say anything; merely blinked those big gray eyes once as she stared up at him.
He felt a sudden sense of urgency. “Listen, dawlin’, don’t go leavin’ town, okay? Promise me you won’t go back to Boston before I can talk to you.”