her a cab, then stood on the street corner watching as the car pulled away. He waved and she turned and waved out the back window, thankful for having someone to help her through this. Had she mentioned her late-day customer to Ted? She couldn’t remember. She’d have to tell him about Cullen sooner or later. Esther put that out of her mind, however.
Even though she was exhausted, she was eager to have a sit-down with Cullen Murphy and find out the real reason he’d disrupted her life.
Because things weren’t adding up. He’d come to the shop searching for the diamond, but he thought the diamond could possibly be buried in the swamp. He claimed he’d corresponded with her father, yet Esther had never before seen a letter come in from Cullen. Did he have a map? Had her father sent him clues? Or had her father kept things from her, maybe even a post office box?
Her father had never once mentioned he had someone else interested in this quest for the Levi-Lafitte Diamond. But then, Jefferson Carlisle hadn’t been a man of many words. He’d done his fatherly duties by teaching Esther right from wrong, reading to her from her favorite books when she was younger and spinning tales to entertain her when they were both lonely. Then he’d given her a solid art-and-history education at Tulane.
Her father had been quiet, studious and dependable. And lost in the world of antiques and rare jewels. Esther felt he would have told her of his discovery, since he did often talk about the possibility of finding the diamond. It had been a constant subject in the weeks before his death, to the point of making him ill. But he’d never once mentioned that he might have found the diamond.
What were you hiding, Father? she silently wondered. And more to the point now, what was Cullen Murphy hiding?
FOUR
Cullen watched Esther coming out the back door of the boarded-up shop, the squirrelly man who must be Ted with her. Together they worked to put a padlock on the broken door. Esther held a flashlight while Ted wrestled with the chain and lock. Cullen’s first instinct was to go and help, but he was here only to make sure Esther got safely to the Garden District.
He couldn’t leave her behind to the mercy of Charles Hogan’s dangerous men. Those men would be back. They’d been chasing Cullen for months, but he’d always managed to shake them off. Hogan fancied himself a serious collector, but the man wouldn’t know taste if it bit him in the ear. He wanted the chocolate diamond, though. That much Cullen knew. And if he knew Hogan, the man didn’t just want to show off the diamond in some glassed-in display.
Hogan ran with a nefarious crowd. If he wanted the diamond, it couldn’t be for good. Cullen had heard tales of gunrunning and illegal weapons, maybe even drug smuggling. And now he’d brought Hogan’s men right to Esther’s door. It was up to him to find that diamond before they did and to protect Esther, too. Not exactly what he’d had in mind when coming to New Orleans.
The best-laid plans…
After Esther and Skinny Ted locked everything up tight, Cullen followed them out onto the street next to the on-site studio. If she planned to walk, he’d be right behind her. If Skinny planned to tag along, Cullen would be right there behind him, too.
They talked back and forth in what looked like an argumentative way and then Ted hailed a taxi and opened the door for Esther. Ted watched until she was in the cab, then reluctantly turned and hurried in the other direction.
Cullen started running to catch up. The cab stopped at the corner of St. Peter and Royal up near the square. Cullen slapped the window next to Esther.
She glanced up in fear, followed by shock, followed by dread. He had that effect on women.
“Hi,” he said as he slid in beside her. “Long time, no see.”
She glanced at the confused cabbie. “He’s a friend. Go ahead.” Then she leaned close. “You were supposed to be at the other studio. Didn’t I give you directions?”
Cullen saw the fatigue in her eyes. She wasn’t used to dealing with the likes of him. Her innocence made him feel bad about all the secrecy and shooting. “You gave me wonderful directions,” he said, taking his hat off so he could scissor his fingers through his hair. “But I wasn’t about to leave you alone back there.”
“You’ve been—”
“Watching,” he said, the one word a whisper. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“How nice of you.” She pushed at runaway strands of silky russet-and-copper tresses. “Considering that I was all set to go home to a nice bubble bath and a good cup of Earl Grey before you dashed into my shop and brought thugs with you, I’d say keeping me safe is the last thing on your mind.”
Ouch. Cullen held a hand to his heart. “Wow, I felt that arrow. Your aim is perfect.”
She lowered her voice, her eyes flashing fire. “My aim is to make you see that you are a dangerous man. I should make you get out of this cab right now, but I want answers. I wasn’t honest with the police or my assistant because I want answers, so I get first dibs on questioning you. If that diamond is out there and someone unscrupulous—besides you, of course—is after it then I have to stop them. It belongs in a museum, not in the hands of greedy people.”
Her sharp, disapproving glance told him he ranked high in that category.
Now would probably not be the best time to tell her that, well, yes, he wanted the diamond all for himself. It was worth millions. Auctioned off to the highest bidder, that little bauble could bring Cullen a fortune. And that fortune could give him endless possibilities, careerwise.
But the lovely lass sitting beside him like a stiff doll wouldn’t see things that way. He was in more trouble than he’d realized. He found a lady with a conscience. This could get messy.
“What a mess,” she said, her words eerily echoing his thoughts. “I don’t have that diamond, but thanks to you, someone thinks I might. Do you think they’ll come back?”
Cullen nodded. “If they know I’m still here, yes. I’m after the diamond. They want to get to it before me. Or rather, use me to find it.”
She slanted him a golden-eyed look. “Did you know those men were chasing you before or after you darkened my door?”
He cleared his throat and glanced at the traffic moving along St. Charles Avenue. “I might have suspected it a bit, luv.”
“You knew,” she said. “You knew and you didn’t bother to warn me at all. What kind of man are you?”
He leaned in close, his whisper partly a warning and partly a suggestion. “The kind you should never let into your shop.”
* * *
She should probably not let him into her apartment, either. Or her life. But he’d started this and she needed his help to finish it. So she turned at the French doors of the two-bedroom studio inside the grounds of the wedding-cake-white mansion that belonged to her friend Lara Barrington Kincade. Long and narrow and two-storied with a quaint little balcony off the top floor, the apartment had once been a carriage house. The workshop off the kitchen and bedroom used to house horses and carriages, and later, fancy cars. Now it was full of light and roomy enough to hold Esther’s equipment and supplies.
Until now, Esther had loved this place. She’d always
