Rue Toulouse (11 page)

In a bedroom down the hall, Frances glowered at her husband. “How you can stand by and allow your mother to disinherit your daughter is beyond me. Since your father’s death, you’re supposed to be the head of this family. For once in your life, stand up to that woman.”

Jules rubbed his temples. “Frances, I’ll repeat this for the hundredth time. Markus and I haven’t any say over Ma Chérie. Besides, I don’t know why you’re so upset. Charlotte has never shown any interest in the business. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d tell you she couldn’t care less.”

Frances’ back stiffened. “I’ll have you know that just last week Charlotte asked me a number of questions regarding the running of Ma Chérie. In the past she hasn’t shown an interest because Miss Dauphine has always been healthy, but now she’s getting up in years and Charlotte realizes the time is nearing when she’s going to have to take over.”

Jules shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Are you telling me you won’t even consider talking to Miss Dauphine?”

He sighed. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. So will you please let it alone?”

Frances’ mouth hardened into a thin line. “No, Jules, I will not leave it alone. Ma Chérie is Charlotte’s inheritance, and I intend on making sure she gets it back.”

Across town, on the private deck of the casino boat The High Roller, Randal, Markus, and Charlotte were on their second round of drinks.

“Well, I guess we’re all royally fucked,” Randal said. “I can kiss this boat goodbye.”

Markus gulped his drink. “Yeah, what about my ass when Jules finds out about Doucette Shipping?”

Charlotte held her head in her hands. “I thought for sure this would soon be over.”

Randal narrowed his eyes. “Thanks to you, cousin, we’re all going down.”

Charlotte slammed down her glass. “Don’t even try to blame this on me.”

Randal lifted one brow. “It sure as hell isn’t all my fault.”

“Both of you stop it,” Markus said. “We all had a part in this, and now we have to figure out a way to get ourselves out.”

“If there’s anyone to blame, it’s Caterine,” Charlotte said. “God, I can’t stand the sight of her.”

Markus sighed. “Caterine isn’t to blame any more than Mother is. It’s only that Mother’s timing couldn’t be any worse.”

“Yes, well, I never much cared one way or another about Caterine, but right now I’d like to strangle her little neck,” Randal added.

Charlotte smiled. “That would take care of one problem, but we still have Grandmère.”

Both Randal and Charlotte turned to Markus.
 

“Don’t look at me. There isn’t a damn thing I can do now. Perhaps Ray can come up with something.”

Randal snorted. “Ray is so pissed he’s not about to lift a finger to help us. No, we’re on our own, and I, for one, am not about to sit around and watch everything go to hell.”

Two days later, after tossing and turning for most of the night, Caterine awoke late for work. Her car, which had never let her down, wouldn’t start, so she’d run to catch the streetcar, missing it by seconds. Finally making it to work, she was greeted by her two angry aunts.

“Caterine, you might own Ma Chérie, but as far as I know, your Aunt Hyacinth and I still work here, or am I mistaken?”

Great, this is all I need.
Caterine gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face. “Of course both of you still work here. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is we can’t get in,” Frances said. “When you decided for some unknown reason to have all of the locks removed and this key pad installed, you conveniently neglected to give us the code, so we’ve had to stand out here in the damp and cold waiting for you to let us in.”

Caterine silently counted to ten. She’d decided to deal with her family’s hostility by either ignoring them or killing them with kindness. She wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d hurt her once again.

“I’m sorry. You left before I did yesterday and I forgot to give you the code. Here, let me show you how it works.” Sounding as apologetic as she could stomach, she punched in the series of numbers. “See how much easier this is than having to fumble with keys.”

Hyacinth sniffed. “I never had a problem with the old locks.”

Caterine inwardly sighed. She stood back, letting her two aunts precede her through the door.

By six o’clock, Caterine’s head was pounding. She’d spent most of the day trying to trace missing bolts of silk that were supposed to have arrived from France the day before. She’d had to calm an irate client who insisted it was the seamstress’ fault, not hers, that the cashmere suit she’d ordered was now too tight. She’d gallantly ignored her aunts’ satisfied little smiles as each new problem arose.

Now blessedly alone in her office, she’d decided to work for another hour or so. She rubbed her temples, thinking aspirin and coffee were what she needed. A small kitchen alcove had been equipped with a coffee pot, refrigerator, and microwave. As she made her way down the hall, she noticed through the front windows the thick fog that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Terrific, this is all I need
. Thanks to her chaotic morning, she’d forgotten to call AAA and have her car towed to a garage. She’d planned on calling a cab when she was ready to leave. She continued to the alcove and the coffee pot. As she passed the short hall leading to the alley door, she paused.

Out of the corner of her eye, through the frosted glass, backlit by an alley streetlight, she thought she’d seen a dark silhouette. Slowly turning her head, seeing nothing, she sighed.
It’s only the fog playing tricks with the light.
With her head pounding harder by the minute, she decided she might as well go home.

Back in her office, she shut down her computer, neatly stacked the next day’s orders, and phoned for a cab. Informed they didn’t know how long it would take for one to get there, in exasperation she told them never mind and hung up.

I’ll just take the streetcar.
She gathered her oversized candy apple red bag, matching coat, and umbrella, locked her office door, set the alarm with the remote control, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The fog was a lot thicker than she’d thought. Caterine huddled deeper into her coat.
To end this perfect day, the streetcars probably aren’t running
. She’d only taken a few steps when someone grabbed her from behind.

“I have a gun,” he hissed. “If you make a sound or fight me, I’ll kill you.”

He began to pull her toward the curb. Her entire body trembling, Caterine could see the outline of a van. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Franticly she tried to think of a way to draw someone’s attention.

“Fuck,” the man cursed as distant footsteps could be heard approaching.

Caterine felt her attacker hesitate, the gun still pressed against her back.
This is your only chance,
she told herself.
Do something.
When she realized what she still held in her hand, she pressed the button, praying it would work. As the scream of Ma Chérie’s alarm filled the night, Caterine, the remote clenched in her fist, blindly swung it behind her, connecting satisfyingly with her assailant’s nose.

“Fucking bitch, I’ll still get you.” He shoved her hard toward the van. “We’re going for a ride.”

She cried out in pain as she landed hard on the sidewalk, scraping her hands and knees, the remote skidding into the gutter. Blurry eyed, she spotted her umbrella lying on the ground within reach.

Her attacker grabbed her long hair, jerking her head back. “Get up, bitch.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, fear giving her strength, Caterine grabbed the umbrella and with both hands thrust the point up and back.

As he shouted in pain, his grip on her hair loosened. She rose to her feet and ran, her small figure disappearing into the fog.

Remi, on his way home from a solitary dinner of crawfish étouffée at Oceania, heard the wail of an alarm. Curious, he followed the sound to its source. Stopping in front of the building, he realized it was the same business where he and Paul had installed a new alarm system. As he reached for his phone, two police cruisers pulled up.

“Hey, Remi, is that you?” asked one officer as he got out of the car.

“Hey, Vince. Yeah, it’s me.”

“What’s happened here? Why’s the alarm going off?”

“I don’t know. I just got here.” Remi explained he’d been on his way home and had heard the noise.

“This damn fog is a pain in the ass,” said Andre, the second officer. “Can’t see a foot in front of you.”

“I can at least silence the alarm,” Remi said.

“How’s that?” Vince asked.

“Because I installed it.” Within seconds Remi had the door open and the alarm off.

Vince let out a long whistle as Remi turned the lights on. “Pretty posh place. What kind of business is it?”

“Some kind of fancy ladies’ clothing store. The owner is a friend of Paul LaBeau. We installed the system a couple of days ago.”

Vince grinned. “Seems you two know what you’re doing. It works.”

“Hey, what do you expect from two former cops?”

“Yeah, well.”

“Everything’s secure, Vince,” Andre reported.

“We’ll still need to get the owner down here to see if anything’s missing, but I don’t see any sign of a break-in. Do you?” Vince asked.

Remi shook his head.

“Do you know how we can get in touch with the owner?”

“Here’s Paul’s number.” Remi handed Vince a business card. “He’ll know.”

“So, how you been? You like being off the force?”

Remi smiled. “It’s better than getting my ass shot at,
cher
.”

Vince laughed. “I hear you.”

“I’ll leave NOPD’s finest to take care of this. Later.”

As he was leaving, something on the sidewalk caught Remi’s eye. In the semidarkness, he bent to get a closer look and saw it was a red umbrella. His gut clenched as he noticed a familiar object lying only a foot or so away. He reached down and picked up a silver hair clip in the shape of a fleur-de-lis. His gut clenched tighter as his eyes fell upon two fresh streaks of blood on the sidewalk.

“Vince, get out here.”

Chapter Eleven

Her breath coming in shallow gasps, Caterine ran blindly through the thick fog. As she rounded a corner, she almost collided with a taxi sitting at the curb. With a sob of relief, she yanked open the back door and flung herself in.