thought of—find a fortune for yourself. The Patin women don’t know a thing about it, y’know. I was supposed to tell them today. I can be a friend to you. I can make it easier to get what you want.”
“Throw it out, please.”
“We need to study the map in there. Honestly, I’ve wanted to do this, to take what they don’t know they’ve got coming. You may not find it on your own, but with me it’s a cinch. I’ll—”
“You’re making this more difficult. I’d be so grateful if you’d do as I ask. Then we’ll discuss your kind offer.”
Hopelessness weighted Louis’s limbs. The freak’s painful deference only increased the menace. Louis tossed the envelope on the ground and the man kicked it away. “Now,” he said, returning his whole attention to Louis. “Why don’t you tell me all about how you can make my job easier?”
“There’s treasure. It’s hidden at Rosebank.”
Slipping the knife from his right to his left hand, the man settled it against the other side of Louis’s neck, the right side. “I’m sorry, but it’s news I want and you don’t have any, do you?”
There hadn’t been a gun. The guy had faked it just to make doubly sure Louis didn’t try too hard to escape.
“It’s not easy to think straight like this,” Louis babbled. “But I do know things you couldn’t know. Give me a chance to look at the map with you. Get in the car and we’ll go over things. Charlotte and Vivian know me. They trust me.”
“Stupid of them but never mind. They’ll have me and they already trust me.”
“But—”
There wasn’t a lot of pain. The knife blade sliced deep into his neck, just the right side of his neck, and he flopped slowly sideways. Thunderous pulsing roared in his ears and he saw red, red everywhere. His blood pumped from the carotid artery in gushes. It hit the windshield and splattered over the lovely ivory leather interior of the car.
Red and black. Bleeding to death. Life draining out.
Louis opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.
He slid until his head rested on the briefcase.
“I’m only doing my job,” a distant voice said. “Brizio always does his job.”
Louis convulsed. His mouth filled with blood. No pain at all now, just soft, gray numbness gathering him in.
“Sleep tight. This is your dead end, sucker.”
Chapter 2
“Vivian Patin, I’m your mother. You have absolutely no right to speak to me in that manner.”
Charlotte paused to peer down the passageway leading from the big, antiquated kitchens to the hall and the receiving room where their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Susan Hurst, waited for tea. After taking no notice of Charlotte and Vivian since they moved in months earlier, she had appeared on the doorstep today, just appeared without warning and invited herself for tea. Imagine that. With a plate of cookies in hand, she’d showed up to be “neighborly.”
“Mama,” Vivian said in a low voice but without whispering. “I’m a little old to be treated like a child. Now tell me what you’ve been up to. No, no, don’t tell me you haven’t been up to anythin’ because I can tell. Guilt is painted all over your face.”
Her mother’s pretty, fair-skinned face and innocent, liquid brown eyes couldn’t hide a thing from Vivian. Charlotte Patin feared nothing and would dare anything. Her close-cropped gray hair and petite frame added to the impression that she was a dynamo. In fact, she rarely stood still and she hatched a plan a minute. And Vivian adored her. She also knew that her mother was putting a great face on her grief. She and Vivian’s father had lived a love affair. Mama was brave, but David Patin had only been dead a year and Charlotte’s odd, empty expressions, which came and went without warning, made lumps in Vivian’s throat.
“Mama, please,” Vivian said gently. “I know whatever you’ve done is with the best intentions. But—and I’m beggin’ now—put me out of my misery.”
Charlotte hushed her and leaned out of the kitchen door once more.
“Just tell me what you’re up to,” Vivian said. “I’m worried out of my mind about Louis Martin. Where can that man be? That should be all you care about, too, but you’re up to something else. You got off the phone real quick earlier.” Her mother in a stubborn mode was a hard woman to break down.
“I’d better call Louis’s offices in New Orleans and see if he ever left,” Charlotte said, knowing she was going to be on thin ice with Vivian. “I don’t hear any hammerin’ or bangin’ in this house, do you? No? That’s because workers have to be paid and we’re about out of money.” A mother had to do what a mother had to do and right now this mother had to safeguard the little surprise she had planned for the evening.
Vivian shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She decided they were better there than taking out her ire on some innocent dish—particularly since most of the dishes around here were actually worth something. “Don’t try to distract me with what I already know,” she said, raising her voice a little. “Tell me the straight truth.”
“She’ll hear you,” Charlotte whispered. “She’s only here because she’s a nosy gossip who finally decided to come and poke around. That woman will run straight from our house to chatter about us to her cronies. She behaves like the lady of the manor visiting the poor on her estates. I can only imagine what she’ll say about us.”
“If I shout at you, she’ll have a lot to say.”
“Oh, all right, I give up. You have no respect. I called that nice Spike Devol and invited him to dinner this evenin’. A handsome man like that all on his own. Such a waste.”
Vivian took a calming breath. “He has his daughter and his father,” she said while she turned to water just under her skin, all of her skin, at the mention of that man. “Anyway, I’m sure he didn’t accept. Why would he?”
For a smart woman who, until months ago, had managed an exclusive hotel in New Orleans, Vivian, Charlotte thought, could be plain stupid. “Well, he did accept and he’ll be here around seven. He may be a deputy sheriff and we know the pay’s not so good, but I hear he does well with that gas station and convenience store his daddy runs for him, and now he’s got his crawfish boilin’ operation.”
She watched for Vivian to react and when she didn’t, said, “He’s obviously not afraid to work and he’s had his hard times with his wife leaving him like that. For a body-builder. There isn’t a thing wrong with Spike’s body as far as I can see. Of course, I haven’t seen—” Vivian’s raised eyebrows brought Charlotte a little caution. “Well, anyway, he’s just about the best-looking single man in these parts, and quiet in that mysterious way some strong men are. I’m tellin’ you, Vivian—”
“Nothing.” Vivian hardly dared to speak at all. “You are telling me nothing and from now on you won’t make one more matchmaking attempt. Y’hear? I can’t imagine where you got all your personal information about him.”
“You like him, too. You
