Black Opal (7 page)

“Maybe.” The two of us stared at each other a long moment. Then, horror of horrors, Madeleine presented me with a cocktail dress to wear to dinner and a pair of uncomfortable shoes to go with it. Though she had a more stocky, muscular build than I, it fit perfectly. I wanted to cry.

After taking as long as I possibly could to dress, I found myself limping after her, feeling like a circus clown, dreading pre-dinner drinks in the library.

7

Madeleine stopped outside the library, her hand on the knob. “In case I don’t get a chance to tell you: one thing you ought to know about Mom’s cooking…it’s bad. She’s good at everything else, but she can’t cook to save her life. Try not to let it show on your face.”

Without waiting for my answer, she opened the door and motioned me to enter ahead of her. I slunk into the room, stiff with discomfort.

Not only did Madeleine’s borrowed dress itch, the short skirt flared out, threatening to show my panties. It plunged deep into my cleavage and revealed a tattoo I usually keep hidden, one which caused Madeleine’s eyes to widen when she saw it. I almost groaned when I saw Colton Starr standing in front of the bookshelves holding a drink.

“Hey, girl.” He sauntered over to me, confident in his soft gray linen suit. His green flecked tie set off his eyes. Despite the gloomy day, a riotous sunset streamed through the windows, playing on the blond highlights in his hair. He was magnificently hot. I, on the other hand, felt like a chihuahua in a ball gown.

I bet none of these people can figure out what Dean is doing with me.
I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Ricky stood from a corner chair. I hadn’t seen him in the shadows. He wore a jacket and slacks with an open necked shirt. “Love that dress. Looks a lot better on you than it does on the squirt.” He tipped his chin at Madeleine who crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

Sipping club soda with lime, I wandered around the library, reading the spines of the endless books. The Turgeaus observed no filing system that I could figure. Books on Louisiana history sat next to the kind of romance novels Memaw liked to read. I even saw a section of zombie books. I stopped in front of a glassed-in display featuring a picture of Shayne, the invisible guest of honor. The books all bore the same title,
Cajuns: The Disappearing Culture
. A closer look revealed a different volume number on each book. There were six volumes in all, each with Colton Starr’s name prominently listed below the title. Underneath his name, in very small print, was “with the help of the St. Namadie Parish High School’s History Club.”

These had to be the books Madeleine mentioned upstairs. Inside the display sat a framed newspaper article awarding Shayne a posthumous humanitarian award and an honorary degree in anthropology from Tulane University. A face appeared next to my reflection in the glass. Immediately recognizing Shayne’s messy cloud of dark hair and the streak of dirt on her cheek, I sucked in my breath and held very still.

Shayne turned to me, as though she wanted to whisper in my ear. Icy air burned the tender skin, and I heard a muffled noise. It could have been a word or a moan.
Please, please, please don’t let them start talking to me.
The idea sent ice through my veins.

“It was her pet project,” a voice behind me said. I jumped and let out a yelp. Colton Starr took my arm. “I’m sorry, hon. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.” I thought fast and made up an excuse. “I was so engrossed in this I wasn’t paying attention. Madeleine mentioned these.” I faced Colton and forced a smile, ignoring my thudding heart. “I’m staying in Shayne’s room.”

“Julienne told me she was renovating the room for guests. After today’s horrible events, I’m sure you’re curious about her.”

“And these books. Dean has mentioned them, too.”

“This is hard for him.” Colton nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “He and Shayne were close. Irish twins, you know?”

I didn’t. “Irish twins?”

“Sorry. I probably wouldn’t know the term had it not been applied to my sister and me.” He gave me that killer smile. “The term, which is very old, means siblings born within a year of each other. Dean and Shayne were eleven months apart, if memory serves. The timing of their birthdays put them in separate grades, but they were thick. Almost like real twins. He took her loss personally.”

Sounded like Dean. Our months together had taught me he took most everything personally.
Takes one to know one.

“So what about these books? I was told you worked on them with Shayne.”

“The project was Shayne’s idea. She was very interested in this community and its history. This area has been settled a very long time.” Colton went around to the back of the case, opened it, and took out one of the books. He handed it to me. “She envisioned a series of books that illuminated Cajun culture the way
Foxfire
books captured Appalachian culture.”

I opened the book and flipped through, stopping at pictures of elderly people showing off crafts and tools their ancestors used.

“I helped her apply for grants, got her to sit in while I conducted the field research, and showed her how to sift through the interviews.”

An invisible force slammed the book from my hands. I jumped and fumbled the book, which rocketed to the floor near my feet. Embarrassment and irritation heated my body, and a bead of sweat ran down my side.
Why do ghosts have to be so forceful?
The last thing I wanted was Colton knowing my dirty little secret.

“After teaching for so many years, I realize teachers only get students like her once or twice over the course of a career.” Colton bent to pick up the book, using the movement to cover wiping away a tear. He straightened and tried to smile at me. “Myself, I would not be where I am now without having worked on this project. Her loss haunts me every day.”

I scrambled for a way to talk about this without making Colton break down. Of course this upset him. He taught Shayne, saw her every day. But she reacted when he mentioned interviews. I needed to find out more about those.

The door opened, cutting off my mad brainstorm of questions to ask about the interviews. Dean walked into the library. Before that moment, I never realized men could sparkle. But he did. From his clean shaven face to the tips of his shiny black shoes, he personified hot dude in a suit. I caught Colton’s amused gaze and realized my mouth hung open. I closed it with a pop.

“I came in to tell y’all dinner’s ready.” He crossed the room and kissed my cheek. “And, Peri, just so you know, my mother’s talent is not cooking. Try to keep your expression neutral as you eat.”

Colton chuckled. “Even so, Julienne’s dinners are grand affairs.”

“Madeleine told me, but thanks for the warning.” I took his arm—first time in my life I’d ever done that—and turned toward the door. As I took the first step, something heavy slid off my foot and clattered to the floor. I gasped, thinking one of the hideous rhinestones had fallen off Madeleine’s obviously pricey shoes, and looked down.

On the floor lay that necklace from upstairs.
Where the hell did that come from?
Dean, following my gaze, blanched and swooped down to pick it up. The iridescent veins of color now pulsed and writhed in the globe, reflecting off its base of delicate silver leaves. Again, I was struck by the piece’s unusual beauty. Dean seemed quite shaken. He stared at the pendant, then gave me a long, hard look.

Julienne appeared at the door. “Aren’t y’all hungry for some of my bouillabaisse?” Her eyes tracked to the necklace in Dean’s hand, and her mouth dropped open. “Heavens. Did I set this down in here?”

But she hadn’t. When Madeleine gave it to her earlier, she’d taken it into her bedroom.

“I think I may have stepped on it. It was on the floor.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit it had been on top of my foot and fell off when I took a step because there was no way in the world to explain how it got there.

Julienne stared at me for a long moment, her eyes widening. She recovered quickly and took the necklace from Dean. To me, she said, “That’s quite all right, dear. I thought about wearing it to the hospital and then changed my mind. I wondered where I left it when I took it off.” She tittered and motioned us to follow her out of the room.

I went willingly enough, but I couldn’t stop the questions and speculation from forming and stampeding through my mind.

Julienne was lying about planning to wear that necklace to the hospital
.
I knew because she lied about as well as I did. Might as well have had a neon sign over her head announcing the fact.

I glanced at Dean, trying to get a read on the situation, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. Colton, obviously just as confused as I was, craned to see the necklace Julienne held cupped in one hand, slightly away from her body.

###

As we passed the front door, the doorbell sounded. Julienne checked the peephole and opened the door.

Lisette, her eyes red from crying, held out a bottle of wine. “Hope I’m in time for dinner. I wanted to be with my second family tonight.”

Next to me, Dean stiffened, his hand sliding to the small of my back. We exchanged a glance.
Some days it rains shit.

A few minutes later, I sat at a mile-long dining table, my elbow brushing Dean’s. The chandelier bathed us in a golden glow from another century and cast long shadows in the room’s corners. The double candelabra in the table’s center pushed the velvet light into motion, dancing it over our faces and the tasteless food on our plates.

Dean and his siblings didn’t lie about Julienne’s cooking. Dean, who usually ate like a starving man, picked at his soup and finally set down his spoon. Lisette ignored her food and proceeded to fill the air with endless banter, mostly about her husband.

The couple owned a jet, five homes in America, and a condo in Paris. Colton and Julienne asked polite questions at the proper intervals. Dean rolled his eyes when our gazes met. I itched with the desire to ask about the embezzlement charges against Carter. To my credit, I did not.

“I’m not doing this.” Ricky’s spoon clanked to the table. Every eye in the room fastened on him. “I can’t just sit here and act like we didn’t find Shayne’s body this afternoon.”

“I, for one, hope they arrest Trey this time.” Lisette didn’t miss a beat.

“Same here.” Ricky nodded. Julienne started to speak, but Ricky cut her off. “Even if he didn’t do it, he knows more than he told last time. I guarantee it.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean said. “Talk like that is exactly what gets people to take matters into their own hands. Trey was fully investigated twenty years ago.”

“Did you ever get access to the case files?” Lisette’s flashing eyes met Dean’s across the table. Judging by the malice in her voice and the sudden stiffness in Dean’s face, she knew the answer to her question.

“I don’t need them.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Lisette. “Watching true crime documentaries on TV doesn’t make you a detective. Butt out.”

“Dean Zachary Turgeau!” Julienne slapped her hand down on the table. “You will not speak that way at the dinner table.”

Zachary?
Ricky and I exchanged a glance, and he covered his mouth.

“And, Richard Junior, we will not discuss your poor sister at dinnertime.”

I kept my eyes on my lap, not wanting Julienne to scold me.

“I’ve been wondering…” The sing-song innocence in Lisette’s voice alerted me even as her obsidian eyes settled on me. Something about her bearing transported me back to the torture of my school days. “Exactly what do you do for a living, Peri, that allows you to traipse off in the middle of the week to deliver your boyfriend’s wallet?”

Her tone pissed me off. I took a deep breath and counted to ten before answering.

“I have my own business,” I said in my confident businesswoman voice. “I did have to cancel some appointments, but I wanted to do this for Dean.”

Lisette’s lips curved into what a casual observer might have mistaken for a smile. She didn’t fool me. I’ve tangled with the best of ‘em, and she had nothing on my late cousin Rae. Still, I could tell Lisette had a hell of a zinger up her sleeve, and she intended to enjoy delivering it.

“Does this business give you the opportunity to use your psychic abilities?” She might as well have made air quotes when she said “business.” Julienne coughed and took a drink of water. Lisette preened.

I stiffened as the familiar feeling of panic swelled in my throat. I had no idea how Lisette found out about me over the course of an afternoon, but she had. I glanced over at Dean and found him looking as mortified as I felt. He patted my leg under the table, his hand lingering too long on my bare thigh. Dean’s mother wiped her mouth with a napkin and stared at me, her wide eyes boring into me.

“What exactly is it that you do, dear?” Though I expected surprise or maybe disgust, her words sounded nothing more than interested. Maybe a little too interested.

Lisette sat back in her chair, twirling her unused fork between her long elegant fingers, that small curve of her lips still in place.
Bitch.
I forced a smile onto my face and turned my attention to Dean’s mother.

“I have an odd jobs business. People hire me for day labor doing whatever they need done.” Playing clueless was the only way I knew to plug the dam. I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Somehow Lisette knew about me seeing ghosts, and she would ride that horse until it hollered for mercy.

Julienne’s brow wrinkled, and she tilted her head to one side. No doubt she wanted to ask what Lisette meant. I wanted to tell her she wouldn’t have to wait long. This sort of cluster fuck usually played out the same way.

“So none of the odd jobs include contacting the dead?” Lisette widened her eyes dramatically and waggled her fingers. “I mean, after all your success in solving your cousin’s murder—”

Dean dropped his fork with a loud clatter. His mother jumped.

“That’s enough,” Dean said. “Let’s change the subject.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and a livid vein throbbed in his neck.

“Yes, let’s do.” Madeleine shot Lisette the evil eye. “Is there any dessert?”