Nine
The room was empty, but it wouldn’t be empty long. This was going beyond bodyguard duty, but she would need to be dressed before she came out of the bathroom. He gathered up underwear and a bra from her dresser, then headed for the closet, where he picked out a pair of slacks and a blouse, then took all of it into the bathroom. He hung the clothes on the rod on the back of the door and put the underwear on the counter.
The shower glass was fogged over now. All he could see were faint glimpses of an arm, the tender curve of her lower back and the slope of a shoulder. But she was upright and washing her hair, and that was a good sign.
He stepped back out and took a stance outside the bathroom door. He was still there when Lucy returned with the card from the flowers in a plastic bag.
“It doesn’t have a business name on it,” she said. “I should have noticed that. It’s my fault.”
Brendan shook his head. “I’m the one who carried the damn pot up the stairs and somehow missed a snake hiding in it. It’s more my fault than yours.”
He turned the bag over to read the message.
Our sympathies,
The class of 2002
“That’s the year she graduated high school,” Lucy said.
“That leaves a lot of suspects to wade through. The police are on the way. They’re going to ask you the same stuff I did. Tell them everything you remember. Even the tiniest of details.”
“Yes, yes, I will,” she said. “Where should I wait?”
“Front door. Billie’s still going to need help. They can come get you when they want to talk. As for accepting any more flowers into the house, that’s not going to happen. Tell the florists if more come, to take them back and hold them for delivery to a funeral home.”
“Yes, okay,” Lucy said, and hurried out.
He could still hear the water running.
He peeked back inside and saw her sitting on the bench, unmoving.
“Sahara.”
She jumped.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Then turn off the water and get dressed. Police are going to be here soon, and they’ll want to talk to you.”
“Yes, okay,” she said.
He waited until the water went off before he closed the door. After that he heard drawers opening and closing, a hair dryer, then a few quiet moments and guessed she was dressing.
She came out dressed, face devoid of makeup, hair down and barefoot.
“There’s glass all over the floor. Wait while I get your house shoes,” he said, and ran back to the closet, grabbing a pair of cloth slippers.
She stepped into them and then stepped back behind him, leaning against the bathroom door for stability.
“You can sit down on the bed,” he said.
She looked at the bed. Her voice started to shake.
“What if there’s another snake? What if it crawled out under the bed?”
“There wasn’t time,” Brendan said. “I set the flowers down, turned my back on you for less than ten seconds and then turned back around, and the one wasn’t all the way out of the water, even then.”
Her dark eyes widened, thinking about that moment when he’d told her not to move. She had obeyed without question because she trusted him, and if he said there wasn’t another, then she needed to trust that, too.
“You’re sure?”
He slid his hand beneath her hair and cupped the back of her neck.
“I’m sure.”
She took a deep breath, crawled up into the middle of the bed and crossed her legs.
“I was in shock. I’m sorry I stripped in front of you.”
“I’m not,” he said.
She blinked, then glanced up.
“A work of art is meant to be appreciated...in the most innocent of ways, of course,” he said.
A flush spread up her neck onto her cheeks.
“You are so full of shit, Brendan McQueen.”
“There is always that possibility,” he said, smirking.
And then the police walked in.
Detective Julian took one look at the mess.
“What in the name of—”
Brendan pointed to the headless black snake lying among the shattered spears of purple gladiola.
“Cottonmouth. Came out of the water the flowers were in. I shot it just before it reached her shoulder. The flowers were brought here in a gray van. No name on the vehicle. Here’s the card. Billie can show you security footage.” He handed the plastic bag to Detective Julian. “Lucy Benton’s fingerprints will be on it because she was the one pulling cards as the arrangements came into the house. I had her put the card in this bag. I doubt there will be other prints, but we could get lucky.”
“What makes you think this was intentional?” Detective Fisher asked. “Snakes are pretty common around here.”
“Obviously, so are killers,” Sahara snapped.
Fisher had the grace to look embarrassed.
“I just meant—”
Sahara swung her legs off the bed and stood up.
“He doesn’t need to talk to me. I’m going down to the kitchen with Billie.”
“Then that’s where I go, too,” Brendan said. “If you want a statement, you know where to find us,” he said, scooping Sahara up in his arms and carrying her over the broken glass before putting her down at the doorway and leaving the police to do as they pleased.
They walked without talking. The last thing she expected was her word to be doubted again. How had her world gone so wrong, so fast?
When the echo of the doorbell rang again, she stopped in a hallway, her hands doubled into fists, her eyes blurry with unshed tears.
“Damn it! Why is this happening? How many times can I cheat death and get away with it? I don’t want to die!”
He saw the tears and her hands doubled up into fists, and took her by the shoulders.
“As many times as it takes. I already told you I won’t let anything happen to you, and I meant it.”
She covered her face.
He put his arms around her.
“You have what it takes, lady. Don’t quit on yourself now.”
Sahara could have stayed in his arms for the rest of her life and never moved again, but he was right. Quitting was not a choice.
“Sorry. Momentary weakness.”
She turned him loose and walked away.
He was shocked at how empty his arms felt without her and lengthened his stride to catch up. They entered the kitchen in tandem.
Billie was at the sink, but the kitchen was overflowing with flowers...on the floor, on the counters, even on the floor of the adjoining utility room.
“The flowers are going to keep coming unless someone stops them,” she said.
Sahara paused. “We already told Lucy to refuse any more deliveries, but I can do better than that,” she said. “Do you still have a phone book around?”
“Of course I do. I don’t hold with all that computer business replacing what already works,” Billie said. “Last drawer on the left beneath the phone.”
Sahara found the phone book and took it and the portable phone to the kitchen table. She went straight to the Yellow Pages to search for local television stations and then called the first one. As soon as the call was answered, she identified herself and asked to speak to the station manager.
Once he answered, she began explaining about what had happened with the flower delivery and that it was linked to the attacks on her life.
“My dear Miss Travis, that is appalling, but exactly why are you calling?”
“Yes, sir, it was horrifying. The reason I’m calling is to ask if you would please help me notify the community that, due to the recent attacks on my life, the Travis family can no longer accept visitors or flowers at the home, and donations made to their favorite charity in Katarina Travis’s memory would be appreciated instead.”
“We can certainly do that and gladly. What would be even better, though, was if we had a film clip from you stating the urgency. It would come across so much better. Would you be willing to let us come there and film that?”
“Yes, send the crew. I’ll do the piece. You can air it first, and then if you’ll share it with the other local stations, that would be so helpful.”
“Certainly. We can do that.”
“Wonderful.”
She disconnected and then looked up. “Done. A film crew will be here within the hour.”
Billie was a little impressed by how easy she’d made that happen.
“How did you do that?”
Sahara shrugged. “This is when being a famous movie star pays off.”
Brendan tugged at a stray curl against her cheek.
“I don’t suppose you went to school with any of the film crew, too?”
She threw a pot holder at him.
* * *
The film crew was all but strip-searched before they were allowed to enter, then led into the library, where they set up to film the announcement. Sahara said what she needed to say, and the crew began wrapping up when Lucy left the room to get dressed for dinner.
However, Sahara was still in character as the bereaved daughter.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me get the word out during such a difficult time,” she said.
The journalist was all smiles, imagining the scoop this was going to be.
“Of course, Miss Travis. We’re happy to help, even in this small way. I can’t imagine the stress of what you’ve been going through, then your mother, and now this. I fear the world is becoming an ugly place.”
“Indeed,” Sahara said, and then walked all the way to the door with them before stepping aside to let Brendan see them out.
He shut the door, turned around and gave her a thumbs-up.
She shuddered. The smile she’d worn just seconds ago was gone.
“I need a drink.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brendan said, and followed her back into the library.
This time she skipped the mini-fridge with soft drinks and poured herself a whiskey, neat.
“Want one?” she asked.
“I don’t drink on the job,” he said.
She looked at him through tears and then laughed and poured herself another shot.
“Right. I keep forgetting I am the job,” she retorted, and downed the shot as fast as she had the first one. “That’s better. My dinner guest should be arriving soon. Where’s Lucy?”
“Getting dressed, remember?”
Sahara glanced in a mirror long enough to straighten the neckline of her little black dress, then eyed Brendan, who was standing behind her.
“You’re looking nice tonight. I like the blue shirt. It’s a good look against your tan.”
“Not a tan, and thank you.”
Her eyes widened as she slowly turned around to face him.
“You’re that color all over? Not even a spray tan?”
“Not even.”
“Italian? Spanish?”
“My grandmother is Lakota, from North Dakota.”
“Ah...that would explain it, and lucky you. I can’t tan. Just this freakishly white skin. The kids used to call me white bread.”
“Did it upset you?”
She shrugged. “I had so much crap going on at home that school was an escape. Even when it was a drag, it was better.”
“Do you have any good memories from this place?” he asked.
“Just Billie. Let’s go see if we can sneak a taste of something. I’m starving.”
He watched her wipe away tears as casually as she pushed the hair from her eyes. He couldn’t help but stare at the lithe perfection of her body beneath that bit of black fabric as she turned away. He’d already seen her without a stitch of clothing. So far, she had yet to wear anything that came close to the beauty of that sight.
* * *
They watched the six o’clock news, saw Sahara’s piece being aired, then talked about the flowers all over the kitchen and decided there was nothing to do but set them out in the garden and let them die a natural death.
* * *
Bubba heard the news anchor talking about a failed attack on Sahara Travis’s life on the six o’clock news. To add insult to injury, there was a clip of her announcing an end to accepting flower deliveries. He roared in frustration and threw a full glass of sweet iced tea against the wall.
“Son of a bitch, this is getting ridiculous! Does she have a straight line to God Almighty keeping her alive? To hell with subtlety. What the fuck did I do with that hunting rifle?” Then he pivoted sharply, slapping the sides of his legs with his fists. “Well, shit. I think I pawned it. It’s just as well. I’m a terrible shot.”
He eyed the tea soaking into the area rug and headed for the utility room to get a mop. He was still cleaning when he thought of Harley Fish. Harley hunted gators for a living and claimed he would kill anything or anyone if the money was right.
Maybe it was time to give him a call...
* * *
Marcus arrived promptly at 7:00 p.m. and was buzzed into the property. When he rang the doorbell, Billie let him in.
“Good evening, Marcus,” Billie said, eyeing the pristine cut of his gray slacks and crisp cotton, butter-colored shirt.
“Good evening, Miss Billie,” he replied, and handed her a bottle of white wine. “It’s a California label, but one I discovered a year or so ago. I’ve become a fan. Hope you enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Billie said. “The others are in the formal dining room. Follow me.”
Marcus rubbed his hands together in anticipation of fine food and a good evening as he followed the elder woman down the hall. He’d been here a time or two delivering flowers for one of Katarina’s famous parties. He’d seen the grand ballroom at the opposite end of the mansion, but never the family living quarters. Even though the mansion was from the early 1800s, after all this time, the elegance of it was still a bit overwhelming.
He heard voices and then the lilt of Sahara’s laughter and smoothed a hand over his hair just before entering. It was a damn shame the bodyguard wasn’t his type. It would have made the night that much more interesting.
Billie stopped at the doorway to the library.
“Sahara, your guest has arrived and came bearing a gift.” She held up the bottle of white wine. “It will go well with the pecan-encrusted bass.”
“Wonderful,” Sahara said, as she walked toward Marcus with outstretched hands. “I’m so glad you could join us. Lucy has a perfect little aperitif that you have to try.”
He gave her a brief kiss on each cheek.
“Ooh, fun drinks,” he said, and followed her to the bar, took an appetizer off the tray and then picked up his drink. He took a sip. “Mmm, what is this?” he asked.
“Sahara calls it Hollywood After Dark,” Lucy said. “She taught me how to make it.”
Marcus laughed and then popped the appetizer in his mouth, enjoying the earthiness of the mushroom and the sweet meat of the Cajun-flavored crabmeat baked inside it.
“The drink is delicious and so was that tasty little bite. Crab-stuffed mushrooms are one of my favorites.”
He’d purposefully been waiting to make eye contact with Brendan because he liked to savor his pleasures, and looking at that man was definitely a pleasure. After another sip of the drink, he glanced toward the window.
“Ah, Mr. McQueen. Good evening.”
“Good evening, sir,” Brendan said.
Marcus shook a finger. “No, no, no, not sir. Just call me Marcus, please.”
Brendan nodded once and then glanced at Sahara. She was enjoying Marcus’s flirting with him far too much.
“Another appetizer, Marcus?” Lucy asked, as she carried the tray around the room.
“Please. They’re wonderful. One of Billie’s concoctions, I presume?”
“Who else?” Sahara said, and took the tray out of Lucy’s hands and carried it to Brendan.
“Windows!” he said.
“Then get away from them. I’m bringing you food.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and took an appetizer from the tray and put it in his mouth.
“Seriously? Just one?” Sahara asked.
He took two more, one for each hand.
“That’s better,” she said, and set the tray back on the bar.
When she turned around, Lucy was refilling Marcus’s drink and laughing at something he said.
Sahara watched, thinking it was good to see Lucy enjoying herself. She didn’t smile nearly enough.
“So, what do you think?” she asked.
Brendan swallowed, his eyes narrowing as he tried not to notice the length of her legs and the lack of skirt on that dress.
“About what?” he asked.
“The stuffed mushrooms,” she said.
“Oh. Good.”
She poked him lightly on the arm.
“That’s it? That’s all? Good? He who has constant words of admonition for me has suddenly run dry?”
“I don’t get nearly as excited about food as I do other things,” he said.
She started to comment, and then the look in his eyes made her shiver. At any other time she would have been ready to challenge him, but today had been harrowing, and somehow the energy had changed between them.
“You need a stiff drink,” she muttered.
“I rarely indulge...in alcohol,” he added.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you messing with me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, stop it before you start something I won’t let go,” she snapped.
“See to your guest, Miss Travis. I’m just the help, remember?”
She reeled as if he’d just punched her, and turned away before he saw her tears, leaving him alone by the windows.
Brendan sighed. That had hurt him more than it did her. He was trying damn hard not to fall for “the job,” but it was getting harder to ignore his feelings every day.
* * *
For Sahara, it was the longest fifteen minutes ever before Billie came to the doorway.
“Dinner is served.”
Sahara set her empty glass on the bar. “It smells wonderful. Shall we go, my friends?”
Brendan offered his arm.
They led the way into the formal dining room, where Brendan seated her at the head of the table, then took the seat at her right.
Marcus took the seat at her left.
Lucy the seat next to him, and the meal began.
Billie surprised them with a soup course, serving small bowls of French onion soup, accompanied by crusty chunks of rustic bread bites to sop up the savory brown soup beneath the thick stringy cheese.
“This is amazing,” Sahara said.
“Wonderful,” Marcus echoed.
Billie beamed and began preparing to serve the next course.
“Fish,” Lucy said when she saw her plate. “I went fishing once. I cried when Mama put the worm on the hook, because I was afraid we’d killed it. I vowed to never fish again.”
Sahara laughed. “But it hasn’t ruined your taste for eating it, because we’ve had it too many times together to make me believe that,” she said.
“True,” Lucy said.
Marcus shuddered. “I’m a carnivore—I eat meat and love it, but I want no part of harvest or butchering.”
Sahara was debating with herself about drawing Brendan into the conversation or leaving him there in brood mode, but she couldn’t resist hearing another one of his tales.
“Brendan, what about you? I’m guessing you have thrown a few hooks in the water in your lifetime.”
“Yes, ma’am. That I have,” he said.
“Brendan is the oldest of four boys,” Sahara added.
“There are more like you? Be still my heart,” Marcus said, and pretended to fan himself.
Brendan shook his head. “I’m thinking you’ve used that line a time or two before.”
Marcus smirked. “Possibly!”
As soon as Billie served the entrée, they opened the white wine Marcus brought and poured it as they began to eat. But while everyone else was eating and talking, Brendan was focused on a noise he kept hearing outside the windows. It almost sounded like someone was pecking on the glass, but since he was unfamiliar with the exterior of the house, he guessed it could just be some bushes tapping at the window.
When Billie came in to clear the table before bringing dessert, Brendan quietly excused himself, heading straight to the windows and carefully lifting one side of the curtains to peer out into the night.
The motion detector lights that Will had installed with the security system were on, but there was no one in sight. He frowned and sat back down.
Sahara had stopped talking and was watching every move he made. When he sat down, she exhaled slowly. If he was calm, then she could be, as well.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “No one there.”
Nervous that something serious might be going on, Marcus stopped talking midsentence and focused on Sahara.
“What’s happening? Is everything okay?”
She nodded and tried to smile. “Just a little jumpy after today,” she admitted.
Marcus stared around the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means. Something happened today? What did I miss?”
“You must be the only person left in New Orleans who doesn’t know,” Lucy said. “One of the flower arrangements delivered to the house had a poisonous snake in it! It was on a table behind the love seat in Sahara’s bedroom, and it was about to crawl onto her shoulder when Brendan saw and shot it.”
Marcus gasped. “Sweet baby Jesus, please tell me that did not come from my shop!”
“No, it was dropped off by an unmarked van after you’d left,” Brendan said. “But it was probably from someone you know. The card said it was from your class. The class of 2002.”
“There were hundreds of us,” Sahara said. “Take your pick.”
Marcus looked properly horrified. “I am beside myself. I just cannot fathom someone doing this to you. Why? I don’t understand. Why is this happening?”
“Nobody knows. The police are investigating, but I have no personal faith in any of them, not in LA, and not here in New Orleans.”
Marcus reached for her hand. “My dear, I am sincerely sorry this is happening to you.”
“Thank you, Marcus. And thank you for coming to dinner. It feels good to reconnect with old friends.”
“Maybe you won’t be such a stranger now,” he said.
“Maybe,” she said, and was grateful when Billie entered with a tray of desserts and changed the conversation.
“Lord, but that looks amazing, Miss Billie,” Marcus said.
Billie looked pleased as she continued to distribute the strawberry shortcakes with Chantilly cream.
Even Lucy voiced her appreciation. “Oh my God, this is the best strawberry shortcake I’ve ever had. I officially like sweet biscuits as shortcake better than actual cake,” she said, and sprinkled a tiny bit more sugar over her dessert before she took another bite.