Not at all. My friends know that I would never violate my employers’ trust by invading their property.”
There it was again, Lindsey noted. The same iciness that had edged her tone when she asked about the warrant. There were two sides to this woman. And one was coolly calculating.
“Sounds like the LeBlancs are pretty lucky to have you taking care of things for them. And I appreciate your taking time out to talk with us,” Graham answered.
Lindsey seethed silently. A murder had taken place in this very house, probably just above where they were sitting right now. And all Graham planned to do was waste time in meaningless conversation.
He left his post at the window and made his way back to the door. Reluctantly Lindsey followed his lead. She didn’t have a lot of choice. As much as she’d like to butt in, to pursue the questioning further, she’d seen enough movies to know that Graham was right. Improper search and questioning could blow a case right out of the courts. And she wanted the murderous soldier caught and punished, not freed on a technicality.
“Thank you for talking with us, Miss Ruby. If we have any further questions, we’ll get back to you. Or to the LeBlancs, when they return.”
“And thanks for the coffee,” Lindsey added, trying to manage some of the fake friendliness Graham seemed so good at.
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“You’ve helped more than you know,” Graham assured her pleasantly.
You will be a lot more help, Lindsey wanted to add, as soon as we return with the search warrant.
Graham stepped outside and all but pulled Lindsey out with him. His stride was long and purposeful, and she had to run to keep up with him.
“‘Unless you have something to hide,’” he muttered, opening the car door on the passenger side. “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you just ask her if she had a dead body upstairs? It would have been about as obvious!”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s no body upstairs. Not now. But there would have been if you and your fellow officers had investigated the crime hours ago, when I first tried to report it.”
“Don’t change the subject. You were out of line in there, Lindsey, and you damn well know it. I’m the police officer in charge. I’m the one who’s supposed to do the talking.”
Lindsey pulled herself into the car and slammed the door behind her. Could she help it if she was more efficient than the cops? “So while you’re doing the talking, how about explaining that ‘Officer Green’ routine?” she demanded as Graham opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.
“I’ll explain it, all right. It was a mistake, a big one. But it was the best excuse for having you tagging along with me I could think of on the spur of the moment. I had to do something to shut you up before you blurted out the whole story about why you were really there.”
“So what if I had? I have nothing to hide. I’m the witness, not the criminal.”
Graham reached for the black notebook stashed behind the visor. He scribbled furiously for a few minutes, then placed the notebook on the seat beside him as he started the car.
“Okay, Lindsey,” he offered, pulling the gear into reverse and backing out into the heavy traffic. “For the sake of argument, let’s say everything happened exactly the way you say.”
“Okay, for the sake of argument.”
“This is my case, and you’re my number one witness.”
“Your only witness.”
“All right. My only witness. So I say we make a bargain. I’m willing to buy your story, even though there’s no body, no motive and no suspect. We can’t even prove we’re at the right house.”
“You have my word.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m climbing out on a dead limb. But now you’ve got to trust me to handle the investigation. My way. Without your help, unless I ask for it.”
Lindsey stared straight ahead. Graham’s way or no way. Like it had always been. Why should she expect anything different? She’d trusted him once before. Ten years ago. He’d repaid her trust with betrayal. But matters of the heart were quite different from police work. Besides, she didn’t have any alternative now. She’d be catching a Sunday-night flight back to Nashville.
“Okay, Graham. We’ll do it your way.”
“Great.”
He eased up to a red light and slowed to a stop. He turned to face her, and Lindsey could all but feel his nearness. She looked away. There was nothing between them, and it had to stay that way. He hadn’t changed in any way that mattered.
“I don’t want to frighten you, Lins.”
Lins. The nickname rolled off his tongue like an endearment. Just the way it used to. Oh, God, was it always going to be like this? One minute, she had the past buried away where it belonged, the next, something as simple as a nickname turned her insides to a quivering mass. She directed her gaze straight ahead, at the bumper of the blue Buick in front of them.
“I’m sorry I got so rough with you back there.” His voice was smooth, but insistent. “But this is not a game we’re playing. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but until I am, I don’t want you to tell anyone else what you saw.”
The light turned green, but still he didn’t move.
“Promise me, Lins. No one else is to know that you’re the one who witnessed the crime. You’ve told too many people already.”
His hand squeezed hers, and behind them a horn honked impatiently.
“I promise,” she answered, “at least for now. But I’m willing to testify, Graham. I’m not afraid.”
He dropped her hand and eased his unmarked car across the intersection. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” he answered huskily. “But I am.”
* * *
THE FRENCH QUARTER on Sunday morning. Lindsey stopped for a minute, letting its magic wash over her. It was exactly as she remembered it, a wonderland of sights, sounds and tantalizing odors. She slowed her pace to a crawl as she neared the entrance to St. Louis Cathedral, marveling at the white structure that watched over Jackson Square like a kingly ruler.
It would have been only a short walk from her hotel to the Court of Two Sisters, where she was meeting the gang for brunch. Too short. That was why she’d taken the long way around, through the street musicians, mimes and sidewalk artists who breathed life into Jackson Square.
It was early for this part of the city, not quite eleven, but the tourists in town for the carnival were already out in droves.
“Paint your face, miss? Only five dollars. A special price for a pretty lady.”
Lindsey smiled at the thin young man who’d spoken, but declined his offer. A little lipstick and a touch of blush were plenty of paint for her. She
