Eight
The next morning Brendan was dressed and watching the traffic passing by outside the bedroom windows when Sahara woke. The first thing she saw was his silhouette against the window, and she lay there quietly, wondering what it would be like to have a man like him to love.
Then he turned around and caught her staring.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said. “What’s the weather look like today?”
“It’s supposed to rain.”
She threw back the covers, and the moment she got up, he pulled the shades.
“I’m going to dress, and then we can go down to breakfast,” she said.
“Good. I’m hungry, but I’ll wait out in the hall,” he said. “Just stay away from the windows.”
“I will,” she said, and headed for the bathroom as he stepped outside.
She hurried, knowing he was waiting for her.
Lucy was already in the kitchen with Billie and carrying butter and syrup to the table as they walked into the room.
“Waffles! She’s making waffles,” Lucy crowed, as she set the condiments on the kitchen table and went back for silverware.
“Good morning, Mama,” Sahara said, as she walked up behind Billie and kissed her on the cheek.
Billie beamed. “Good morning, my darling. I made your favorite breakfast.”
“I see that,” Sahara said. “I don’t suppose there are strawberries on the premises.”
“I made strawberry compote with some frozen ones. You will like it.”
Sahara did a little twirl and then hugged her.
Brendan grinned. He was trying not to be enchanted by this woman, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Who danced with delight at strawberry compote?
“Go sit,” Billie said. “I have enough in the warming oven to start with.”
“What about you?”
“No. Not this morning. I am the waffle maker today. They aren’t good cold and you know it, so please begin. I want you to enjoy.”
Brendan was filling coffee cups when Sahara sat down at the table.
“Thank you! You’re as handy as a pocket on a shirt,” she said.
He grinned. “That’s what my grandpa used to tell me.”
She was intrigued that she and his grandfather shared something so random.
“Really?”
“Really,” he said.
Billie brought the warming tray stacked with hot, crispy waffles, then came back with a small bowl of strawberry compote and a ladle for dipping.
While Brendan and Lucy opted for butter and syrup, Sahara ladled hot strawberry compote onto hers. The first bite brought back a flood of memories from her childhood. This was always her birthday breakfast.
The silence that fell around the table was a testament to the good food, and when the last waffle came off the waffle iron, Billie put it on her plate and slipped into the chair beside her girl.
Sahara scooted the butter and syrup toward Billie and then got up and refilled coffee cups for everyone.
“I should have done that. I’m sorry,” Lucy said.
“Ridiculous! You’re not a waitress, and for what it’s worth, this is my home, which makes you my guest.”
Brendan’s phone rang as he was carrying his dirty dishes to the sink.
“Hello...Yes, she’s right here. Just a second.” He handed his phone to Sahara. “It’s Harold, for you.”
“Good morning, Harold. What’s up?”
“Just checking in,” he said. “I got you out of the contract with no problems. In fact, the investors were grateful for your consideration of the time schedule and the safety of the others and intend to mention you in the credits in some way.”
“That’s nice,” Sahara said. “Especially nice that they aren’t angry. It’s never good to aggravate investors.”
“Absolutely,” Harold said. “Also...just wanted you to know that the repairs have begun on the elevator to the penthouse and Adam said to tell you hello, and he misses your smile.”
Sahara smiled as she leaned against the counter.
“That’s so sweet of him.”
Brendan wondered who was sweet and what he’d done to put a smile on her face like that.
“Oh, Harold...one other thing. As soon as the elevator has been repaired, would you please get my cleaning service into the apartment and have them clean it thoroughly? Last time I saw it, there was a gray cloud of dust and smoke in every room.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Harold said. “Anything else? How are things going there? Any news on what happened to your mother?”
“No updates here. What about the police in LA? Do they have any leads on who was after me?”
“All I know is what Detective Shaw told me. They have security footage from The Magnolia of the so-called repairman who likely placed the bomb and have cleared the woman who let him sign in. They have footage of the same man at the airport dumping a body in a Dumpster, then carrying a package into the jet and coming out without it.”
“Do they know who it is?”
“No. It’s the same man, but the fingerprints they recovered aren’t in the system, so that doesn’t help.”
She relayed this information to Brendan, who reached out to take the phone from her. “Harold, it’s Brendan. Ask the police to send copies of the security footage to my email. Got a pen?”
“Yes, go ahead,” Harold said, and wrote it down. “I’ll call them as soon as we’re done. Ask Sahara if there’s anything else she needs me to do.”
“Harold wants to know if there’s anything else you want him to do.”
She nodded, so he handed back the phone.
“Harold, there is one more thing. I want to sell the penthouse. There’s no way I could live there now.”
“I thought you might say that. Not to worry. I’ll get a Realtor on it as soon as everything has been cleaned and repaired. Do you know what you want for it?”
“Get it appraised, see what the Realtor thinks, and then I’ll make a decision.”
“Can do. Listen. I’m so sorry for all that’s happening. If there’s anything else I can do for you, just let me know.”
“Oh, my phone! It was in the hall outside my apartment. I’m going to assume when it and my purse are found, they’ll put them in the penthouse, so if you can find them and FedEx them to me, I would so appreciate that.”
“You could just buy a new phone, you know,” Harold said.
“That one has all my contacts. I don’t want to start over unless I have to.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Let’s hope that dust didn’t screw it up.”
“Don’t say that,” Sahara said.
“Stay safe. I’ll be in touch,” Harold said.
“Thanks,” she said, and disconnected, then gave Brendan the phone.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
He didn’t want to freak her out, but this was her life and she had to know everything he did.
“There’s one thing I haven’t heard mentioned, although I’m sure the police in both locations have already considered it.”
“What’s that?” Sahara asked.
“Based on the evidence, there’s either more than one perp, or he’s hiring out his hits.”
Sahara frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“Because Katarina was murdered before sunrise on the same day that your elevator fell. And...she was likely killed about the same time you got on the elevator. So that’s one body in New Orleans. Almost one in Los Angeles. At the same time.”
“Well, shit,” Sahara said, and sat down with a thump.
Brendan empathized. “Indeed,” he said.
Lucy was obviously horrified. The shock on her face said it all.
“This makes no sense, and, to my embarrassment, I have just discovered I have syrup on my blouse. I must have been wolfing that wonderful waffle down. I’m going to go change. I’ll be right back.”
“No hurry,” Sahara said. “We have all day to figure out what to do about Katarina’s memorial service.”
Lucy left the kitchen just as the phone rang.
“That’s the landline,” Billie said. “I’ll get it.”
She took the call on the phone in the kitchen. “Travis residence...Yes, it’s all right. See you soon.”
She disconnected. “And so it begins,” she said.
“What?” Sahara asked.
“Floral deliveries. The florist asked if it was too early to deliver, and that he had multiple arrangements.”
“I never even thought of flowers,” Sahara said. “Why will they be bringing all of them here?”
“Because Katarina’s body is in the morgue, so there’s no funeral home handling the body, and no viewing room to hold the flowers.”
“Oh. Then where should we put them?” Sahara asked.
“We’ll take off the cards, and then I guess just put the arrangements wherever there’s a place for them to be.”
“Okay,” Sahara said. “I’ll get a tea cart and put it in the foyer. We’ll move them that way,” she said.
“Show me where the carts are. I’ll move them for you,” Brendan said.
“Sahara knows where they are,” Billie said. “Get to it. They’ll be here before we know it. And I need to unlock the front gate so I can buzz them in and out.”
“Why don’t you just leave it open?” Sahara asked.
Billie and Brendan both looked at her as if she’d just lost her mind.
“Because the famous actress Sahara Travis is in this house, and there are any number of fans who would happily trot up to this door and ring the bell on the off chance you might answer it. Even the killer,” Brendan said.
Her expression blanked. “I can’t believe I forgot. Coming back here has clearly rattled me,” she said softly. “Follow me, Brendan. We’ll get this set up before I have to go hide.”
A few minutes later the tea carts were ready and a guest book had been placed on the hall table just as Sahara heard the buzzer signaling a car at the gates.
“Billie’s got this,” she said. “Time for me to disappear.”
“Where do you want to go?” Brendan asked.
She shrugged and walked away as Billie came down the hall toward the front door.
Billie saw the dejected expression on her daughter’s face, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Brendan followed her into the library. He was a little surprised when she headed for the wet bar, but then relaxed when he saw her go for a cold soda from the mini-fridge.
“There’s Coke, Pepsi and ginger ale. Want one?”
“Not right now, but thank you.”
She unscrewed the cap on her ginger ale, added some ice to a glass and poured in the soda, then wrinkled her nose as she took her first sip.
“I like the fizz. It always tickles my nose,” she said, took a second sip and then carried the glass and the rest of the ginger ale to a chair.
“Talk to me, Brendan. Tell me about Wyoming. I met John. Tell me about your other brothers... Carson and Michael, right?”
“Well, I don’t remember the details when John was born, because there’s only three years’ difference in our ages, but I was five when Mom brought Carson home from the hospital. I was a little worried that he would grow up and mess with my stuff like John was beginning to do, and I was eight when she came home with Michael. That’s when I locked my bedroom door and wouldn’t come out.”
Sahara laughed.
Brendan moved toward the windows, checking to make sure there was no one on the grounds who didn’t belong, but Sahara was intrigued by his happy family. She wanted to know more.
“Are you the only one who was in the military?”
He nodded.
“Why did you go?” she asked.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said.
She sat there a minute watching his smile fade and suddenly jumped to her feet.
“It was a girl, wasn’t it? What did she do, break your heart?”
He shrugged, willing to spill his guts if it helped her pass some time.
“We had a fight. She slept with my best friend to get back at me. I realized my choice in girlfriends and best friends left a lot to be desired, so I decided they deserved each other and joined the army. Best thing I ever did.”
Sahara immediately regretted what she’d said.
“I’m sorry, Brendan. That was an appalling thing to happen to anyone, and I apologize for making a joke about it.”
Her hand was cold against his skin from holding the glass. Her eyes were shimmering in sympathy.
“Hey, no harm, no foul. That was years and years ago. Truth is, they both did me a favor or I might never have left Wyoming.”
“You ran away from home and so did I. How about that? Something we actually have in common,” she said, and flopped back down in her chair.
“Hard to believe,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he watched a van coming through the gates.
“What do you see?” she asked.
“A florist’s van.”
She toed the carpet beneath the chair while condensation ran from the glass onto the coaster.
“What’s the name on the side?”
“Beloit Blooms. Marcus Beloit, owner-designer.”
She jumped up.
“Marcus? I went to school with a Marcus Beloit. I want to go see if it’s him.”
“I doubt the owner will be doing delivery,” Brendan argued.
“I still want to see. We were friends. I just want to check.”
“Then lead the way,” he said.
Sahara lengthened her stride as she headed for the foyer, anxious to get there before the deliveries were finished.
Billie was putting one arrangement on a tea cart while the deliveryman went back for more.
“Who delivered these?” Sahara asked.
“Beloit Blooms.”
“Was it Marcus?”
Billie smiled. “Yes, do you remember him?”
“Yes, yes,” Sahara said, and when she saw a blond-haired man wearing white shorts and a pink print shirt coming back up the steps with a large potted fern, she started to go out to meet him.
“Wait inside,” Brendan cautioned.
“Oh, right,” Sahara said, and smiled and waved from the shadows of the foyer. “Marcus!”
A huge smile spread across his face.
“Sahara, darling! Let me put this down,” he said, as he handed the second arrangement to Billie.
He started to lean in and kiss her when Brendan thrust his arm between them and brought Marcus Beloit to a halt.
Marcus gave him the once-over. “Oooh, girl! Who do we have here? He is absolutely gorgeous.”
“He’s my bodyguard,” Sahara said. “It’s okay, Brendan. We went to school together. He’s a friend.”
Brendan dropped his arm but didn’t relinquish his stance. She could hug whoever the hell she wanted, but he wasn’t yielding space to make it easy.
Marcus gave Brendan a big smile.
“I didn’t mind a bit,” Marcus said, and winked at the bodyguard, who calmly ignored the gesture.
“We need to visit and catch up,” Sahara said. “Can you come to dinner tonight? Say around seven o’clock?”
“Why, I’d love to, honey, but let me first say, I am so sorry about your mother. It’s just terrible what happened to her, and I want you to know we’re all praying for you and for a resolution to this tragedy.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’d better get back to the shop. My deliveryman is out sick today, which is why I’m pulling double duty. So, I guess I’ll see you later.” Then he eyed Brendan again. “Will he be dining with us?”
Sahara laughed. “Yes, and so will Lucy, my personal assistant.”
“What fun!” He pointed up the hall behind them. “Is that your Lucy?”
Sahara turned around. “Yes, that’s Lucy Benton. Lucy, this is Marcus Beloit, an old friend from school. He’ll be joining us for dinner tonight.”
Lucy nodded politely. “Nice to meet you.”
“Absolutely! See you at seven o’clock if not before. There may be other orders for delivery here, and if so, I’ll be back,” Marcus said, then he hurried down the steps and leaped into the van before driving away.
Sahara grinned at Brendan. “You sure caught his eye.”
He was completely unperturbed. “Yeah, it happens a lot. It’s the muscles.”
She laughed as they closed the door and turned to Billie, who was at the tea carts, pulling cards from the flowers and making note of who they were from and what they’d sent.
“So, one more for dinner tonight?”
Sahara grinned. “Yes, please.”
“Do you have a preference for what is served?”
“Something yummy.”
“Then I say pecan-crusted sea bass, cheese grits, braised artichoke hearts and, for dessert, Ponchatoula strawberry shortcake with Chantilly cream,” Billie said.
When Brendan’s stomach growled out loud, everyone laughed.
“I second McQueen’s vote,” Sahara said, “but I also think it might be time to stir up a little lunch. Lucy can man the door and pull the cards from deliveries until it’s ready, and Brendan and I will find somewhere to put all these flowers.”
Billie showed Lucy how she was tracking the deliveries, then headed for the kitchen while Sahara got a tea cart loaded with flowers and started to push it up the hall.
“Let me check them first,” Brendan said.
“Really? Flowers? For what?” Sahara asked.
“All kinds of things,” he said, and methodically went through everything that had already been delivered. As soon as they’d been declared “clean,” she pushed the cart toward the table in the middle of the foyer, set the largest arrangement on it, while Brendan picked up two large ferns and set them on marble pedestals on either side of the doorway into the formal dining room.
He saw movement through the windows. Three men were moving around the garden, pulling up the crime scene tape.
“Hey, do you know who those people are?” he asked.
Sahara set a flower arrangement on the sideboard inside the room in case Billie wanted to use it for dinner tonight.
“Probably the grounds crew. Billie was going to call them, remember?”
Brendan hadn’t moved. “Where’s Billie?”
“I’m right here,” Billie said, as she entered the room.
“Who are the people outside?” Brendan asked.
“Oh, that’s Sutton and his work crew. They do the landscaping here.”
Sahara looked closer. “Miss Barbara’s son, Sutton?” Sahara asked.
“Yes. He owns Davidson Landscaping. Leopold gave him money to get started about seven or eight years ago.”
“Who’s Sutton?” Brendan asked.
“Miss Barbara worked here with Billie for a time,” Sahara explained. “Sutton is her son. We used to play together as kids.”
“First the florist, now the gardener. This is turning into reunion week,” Brendan said.
“Well, they still live here. I’m the one who came home,” she snapped.
Brendan pulled her away from the window.
“I’m not trying to keep you from seeing old friends, but I can’t make this any clearer. The killers couldn’t get to you in Hollywood, so they lured you to a place that will make you easier to get to. You’re vulnerable here. Like it or not, you’re a sitting duck. We don’t know who’s behind these attacks, and we don’t know why, which gives them a very big edge. Understand?”
He was so close to her face she could see her own reflection in his eyes and the muscle jerking at the corner of his mouth.
She shrugged out of his grasp. “I told you Marcus was a friend, and I’m telling you so was Sutton when we were children. If you don’t like the answers I give you, then stop asking questions,” she snapped.
Billie frowned. “Stop it, both of you. Settle this peacefully now or go somewhere else to argue. I do not want this room filled with negative energy when we’re going to be dining in here tonight.”
Brendan stepped back.
Sahara threw up her arms and stomped out of the room, but he followed close behind.
Billie’s eyes narrowed as she watched them walking away, then she began getting out the good china and silver to set the table, muttering to herself as she worked.
“All that fussing. That’s nothing but sexual tension. They need to get all that over with before they really lose it on each other. That’s what I think. Yes, I do.”
Sahara didn’t know why she was mad. She knew he was right. She’d been careless again. He was doing the job Harold was paying him to do. And then the moment she thought that, it hit her. That was what was bugging her. He wasn’t with her because he liked her, even though it sometimes felt like he did. She was just another job to him. He didn’t care, so why should she?
She stopped in the middle of the hall and turned around so fast Brendan nearly stumbled over her.
“Truce?” she asked, and held out her hand.
That was the last damn thing he had expected.
“Truce,” he said.
“We have to shake on it,” she said.
His fingers curled around her hand, engulfing it. She tightened her grip and pumped his hand once and then turned him loose.
“Done,” she said. “My apology. I’m not normally a bitch. It’s coming back to this place that’s making me crazy. Forgive me?”
He sighed. “I work for you. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I take my job seriously. I have never lost a client, and I would sincerely appreciate any help you can give me to ensure you don’t become the first. Understand?”
“Understood.”
The doorbell rang.
“More flowers.”
“Do you want to go see them?” he asked.
“No. I think I should avoid silhouetting myself in any more doorways.”
She was serious, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
Crap, McQueen. Where did that come from? She’s off-limits, and you know it.
“I need to make some phone calls. Want to go back to our room?”
“After you,” he said, and then heard Lucy shouting.
“Sahara! Wait!”
Lucy came toward her carrying a giant arrangement of flowers in a large ceramic pot.
“It won’t fit on the tea carts. Where would you like me to put this one?”
Sahara eyed the colorful arrangement.
“It can go in my room,” she said, then looked at McQueen. “If he says so.”
Brendan took it out of her hands.
“I’ll carry it,” he said, and followed her up the stairs while Lucy went back to man the deliveries.
“Where do you want it?” Brendan asked, as they reached the bedroom.
“Oh, on the table behind the little love seat.”
He set it down, gave it a cursory inspection and then moved to the windows. Just traffic on the street. But when he turned around to see what Sahara was doing, he immediately reached for his gun.
“Sahara, don’t move!”
She saw the gun in his hand and froze, terrified.
He fired.
The bullet went past her ear, through the ceramic pot and into the wall behind them.
Water exploded everywhere, soaking her hair and clothes. Flowers were in her lap and on her shoulders when he yanked her to her feet and into his arms. The moment he had her against his chest, he fired once more.
Sahara threw her arms around his waist.
Lucy came running into the room with Billie not far behind her.
“What the hell happened?” Lucy cried.
Billie saw it first and made the sign of the cross and then met McQueen’s gaze.
“She is okay? It did not bite her?”
“No, it didn’t bite her,” Brendan said.
Sahara pushed out of his arms and turned around.
“What are you talking about?”
Billie pointed at what was left of the snake on the back of the sofa.
“Cottonmouth. Where in God’s name did it come from?” she cried.
“Out of those flowers,” Brendan said.
Sahara grabbed his wrist as her knees started to buckle.
“I’ve got you,” he said, and put an arm around her waist to steady her. “Lucy! Who delivered those flowers?”
Lucy was already a crying mess. “I don’t know! The doorbell rang. The flowers were on the threshold and the van was already driving away. It was a gray van. Maybe it’ll be on the security footage?”
“Good call. It should be,” Brendan said. “Bring me the card that came with these. Wait! No. Get a plastic bag first and carefully slide it inside. No more fingerprints than necessary.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be right back,” Lucy said, and rushed out of the room.
Billie was pulling flower petals from Sahara’s hair.
“Brendan, she needs a warm shower and dry clothes.”
“Don’t move anything in here,” he said. “The cops are going to need to see it.”
Billie glanced at Sahara again.
“Do you need me?” she asked Brendan.
“No, ma’am. I’ll help her.”
“Then I’m going down to check the flowers still on the tea carts again. We don’t need any more surprises.”
“The police are coming?” Sahara asked, as her mother hurried away.
“Yes. You just survived another attempt on your life, and they need to know about it.”
“Need to know about it,” she echoed.
He put his hand in the middle of her back. She was clearly in shock.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded but wouldn’t turn loose of him as he walked her into the bathroom. He was already calling the New Orleans PD when she sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and started taking off her shoes.
The call went through and began to ring.
“New Orleans PD. How may I direct your call?”
“Homicide.”
“One moment, please.”
“Homicide, Detective Wells.”
“This is Brendan McQueen. There’s been another attempt on Sahara Travis’s life at her family home. Notify Detective Julian or Detective Fisher. They’re investigating her mother’s recent murder.”
When he turned around, Sahara was standing in her underwear, shaking from head to toe.
“Will a warm shower hurt your foot?” he asked.
She shook her head, so he turned on the shower and adjusted the water. When he turned around again, she was naked, and the look on her face was so broken he was almost afraid to touch her.
“Easy does it,” he said, and held her hand as she stepped into the shower. “There’s shampoo on the bench,” he said. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I’ll be outside. Call if you need me,” he said, and walked out.