Prosecco Pink (33 page)

"Go on upstairs." She looked at Troy. "Both of you."

Troy exited the parlor first, and I followed with Delta at my back. As we climbed the stairs, I inched close to him and whispered, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't lose Evangeline."

"Silence!" Delta commanded, jabbing the gun between my shoulders.

Troy was worse off than I'd thought. If there was any chance of us making it out alive, it was going to have to come from me. The only thing I could think of was to try to push Delta down the stairs when I reached the second floor.

A door slammed below.

"Delta?" Officer Quincy called.

A fresh wave of fear coursed through my veins. There was no escape now. He'd shoot me if I so much as blinked.

"Up here, John," she replied in a lackadaisical tone. "Franki and I just finished with our girl talk."

I followed Troy onto the landing, fighting the urge to faint. There was no need to ask where we were going. I lowered my head and entered the pink room.

"Franki, sit on the bed," Delta said. "But for heaven's sake, be careful. Antique beds weren't made for people your size."

Too numb to react to her jab, I did as I was told.

Officer Quincy burst into the room. "We need to get this over with quick," he said, handing Delta a pair of latex gloves. "I've been monitoring the St. James Parish PD on my police radio, and our little friend here made a second 9-1-1 call."

Delta sneered. "It's not going to do her any good. I've got the belladonna ready. All I need is for you to hold her arms."

Officer Quincy shoved me backward onto the bed and pinned my torso with his arms and chest.

"Wait!" I shouted, stalling. "Why belladonna?"

She put her hand on her hip. "Because you're Italian like Ivanna. Of course, the
beautiful woman
meaning doesn't apply in your case, but no one will question it when they learn your heritage," she said, slipping on the gloves. "Plus, I want you to die a horrible death."

I was seriously considering bum-rushing her for that first comment, but the
horrible death
one took the wind out of my sails.

"Hurry, Delta," Officer Quincy said. "If they're not dead before the police get here, we'll have a hard time proving Troy acted alone."

"Give me a minute," she snapped, reaching into her Louis Vuitton. She pulled out a small bottle and unscrewed the cap. As she leaned in toward me with the poison, I squeezed my eyes shut and started thrashing.

"Hold her still, John!" Delta yelled.

"I'm trying," he rasped, his voice tense from the struggle. "But she's as strong as a horse."

"The size of one too," she observed.

After hearing their horse comments, I started bucking like a bronco.

"It's no use," he ground out. "I've gotta knock her out."

I kept my eyes closed, waiting for the blow. I heard a thwack, a dull thud, and another thwack. But I felt no pain. In fact, the only thing I felt was Officer Quincy's weight sliding off my body. Then I heard another dull thud.

I opened one eye and saw Chandra high-fiving a balding, beer-bellied man in an island shirt.

"Boston strong!" she cried as they each raised a copper pipe in triumph.

I shot up from the bed and saw Delta and Officer Quincy unconscious on the floor. Woozy from shock, I asked, "What are you doing here, Chandra? I told you not to come!"

"I said I'd trust you, but I didn't say I'd listen to you," she explained as she pulled down her zodiac-themed miniskirt.

I glanced at Troy standing motionless in the corner. "I'm glad you didn't."

"By the way," Chandra began, "this is my husband, Luigi Toccato."

"Call me 'Lou,'" he said, giving my hand—actually, my entire arm—a hearty shake.

"So nice to meet you," I breathed. "You two saved our lives. But how did you do it?"

"Ah, we drove out in my plumber's van," Lou said, kicking Delta's gun out of her reach with his toe shoes. "Then Chandra got one of her visions. She said you were in danger, so we grabbed a couple of pipes from my supplies and came in around back."

I stared at Chandra in awe, remembering how scared she was the last time she came to the plantation. "How did you get up the courage to do this?"

She gazed at her husband. "When Lou's by my side, I can do anything."

"Aw, you," he said, turning as red as a tomato. He leaned over and gave her a smooch.

"Besides," she added, her tone now as hard as the pipe in her hand, "I'm afraid of ghosts, not bitches."

Police sirens screamed up the drive.

Chandra took that as her cue to slip her and Lou's pipes into her super Chanel bag. "Now if you three will excuse me," she began, fluffing her big bouffant bob, "I have a psychic matter to attend to."

*  *  *

Lou and I watched from the back porch as the police led Delta and Officer Quincy in handcuffs to the parking lot.

"Take your hands off me, you ingrate!" Delta shouted at the twenty-something male officer trying to help her into the back of the squad car. "I'm the widow of the late Chief of Police, Jackson Dupré."

"We know who you are, ma'am," the officer replied in a tired voice.

"Then you will treat me with respect, or you'll answer to my attorney," she snarled. "Do you understand me?"

Lou yawned and scratched his belly. "Why doesn't he just shove her into the car already?"

"My thoughts exactly," I replied.

The back door opened and Chandra stepped onto the porch. "Where's Troy?"

"They took him to the station," I replied. "He'll undergo a psychiatric evaluation and get the treatment he needs."

Chandra frowned at the sight of Delta and crossed her arms.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Aren't you happy to see the diabolical one get her due?"

 "It's not that." She sighed. "That spirit's turning the doorknob again."

"Maybe she wants to come outside to see Delta being taken to jail," I joked. "You know having her around the plantation had to be a living hell for those ghosts."

"That's the problem," Chandra said. "The spirit's standing in front of French doors, but she's not in the house."

My smile faded. "How do you know?"

"Because there's a vase on the floor to the left of her. But when I stood in the corner between the French doors and the pink room a few minutes ago, I realized that there was no vase there."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't think I've ever seen a vase by the French doors. But maybe one used to be there."

Chandra shook her head, jingling her jewelry. "This isn't a vision from the past. The spirit's turning the handle in the present."

"Then maybe she's not at Oleander Place," I suggested.

"Or, maybe she is," Chandra countered, "but she's turning the handle of a different French door."

As soon as she'd spoken the words, I knew where that door was. "The little mill!" I exclaimed. "Miles told me that the windows and French doors were replaced, and the originals are stored there."

"What are we waiting for?" Chandra yelled.

The three of us ran across the grounds. I arrived at the mill first, for obvious reasons.

It didn't take long to find the French doors. They were propped up against a wall in the back corner—beside a large blue vase.

I grasped the knob of the door on the right. It was exactly like the one I'd repaired the day Chandra and I got trapped inside the parlor. "We need to remove the handle."

"I (huff) got (puff) this," Lou said, pulling a pipe wrench from the pocket of his cargo shorts. He bent down in front of the handle.

I fixed my gaze on the back of his head to avoid seeing his… Well, he's a plumber.

Lou stuck out his tongue, gave a couple of tugs with the wrench, and the handle fell into his hand. Battling his belly, he rose to his feet. "Here (huff) you (puff) go."

Like Lou, I was breathless—but with excitement. I shook the base of the handle over my palm, and out tumbled the Lacour diamond.

Chandra gasped and clasped her face. "All this time the spirit was trying to show us where the diamond was!"

"Exactly." I stared with wonder at the coral-pink gem.

She put a hand on my arm. "That means the spirit was probably Evangeline, not Ivanna."

I bit my lip. "I have a feeling it was both of them."

"Well, it sure is a beaut," Lou said, pulling up his sagging shorts. "What're you gonna do with it?"

"Oh, I can't keep it," I said. "It belongs to the plantation."

Chandra's lips formed a tiny pout. "But Delta's going to prison. Surely you don't plan to give it to her?"

"I'm giving it to the police," I announced in a steadfast tone. Although, let's be honest, I really wanted to keep it for myself. "We'd better head out."

When we arrived at the parking lot, I approached the policeman who'd loaded Delta into the back of his patrol car. "Officer, we found something in the little mill that's pertinent to the case. It's the legendary Lacour diamond."

Delta's head turned so sharply I thought it was going to spin all the way around like Linda Blair's in
The Exorcist
. "That diamond is mine!" she shouted at the closed window. "Do you hear me, Franki Amato? Mine!"

The officer shined his flashlight on the stone. "That's some diamond."

"And it's my property!" she yelled. "Give it to me this instant!"

"I can't do that, ma'am," he said, turning to the window. "This diamond is evidence."

Seeing Delta's reaction, a thought occurred to me. "Officer, do you mind if we take a few pictures with the diamond, since we found it, and all?"

"Make it quick," he replied, depositing the gem into my palm.

Delta shot daggers at me with her eyes. "Get your filthy hands off my heirloom!"

Chandra and I snapped several selfies with the diamond as Delta raged.

That'll teach her for making cracks about my size
, I thought as I returned the diamond to the officer with a huge grin on my face.

By the time he drove away, Delta's fury had given way to tears, and she was wailing and blubbering about her "precious pink baby."

"What a wuss," Chandra said.

"Yeah," Lou agreed. "Southern steel, my
culo
."

I smiled at his use of the uncouth Italian term for derriere. "Once again, Lou, you took the words right out of my mouth."

*  *  *

When I entered my office the next morning, there were beignets and a soy latte on my desk. I turned to find Veronica in the doorway. "What's this?"

"A small thank you for your amazing work on the case."

"Are you sure you're not mad that I continued working the investigation?"

"I can't tell you what to do with your day off, but I am upset that you put yourself in danger." She crossed her arms. "Promise me that you'll give me a heads-up the next time you plan to confront a ruthless killer."

"I promise," I said, taking a seat behind my desk. "But honestly, I thought I was covered after calling the police. And besides, you've been so busy lately that I thought you wanted me to handle the case on my own."

"I have been busy," she said as she eased into the armchair. "And the truth is that after I helped you get the investigation underway, I did take a step back."

"I noticed," I said, reaching for a beignet. "I just don't understand why."

She sighed. "Because PIs don't work with partners like the police do. And even though I'd love for us to collaborate on cases, the budget doesn't allow for that yet. So, I needed for you to gain confidence in your ability to work a case on your own." She smiled. "And after bringing down Delta Dupré, you should be able to handle anyone."

I swallowed a big bite of beignet. "I see what you're saying," I began, dusting powdered sugar from my hands, "and I have to admit that in some ways it was pretty great to call the shots. But you're overlooking the fact that I did have a partner on this case."

"Who? David?"

I took a sip of latte. "Chandra."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Now, I'll admit that she and her husband saved your life, and for that I'll be forever grateful, but—"

"No
buts
about it," I interrupted. "Like you, I have my doubts about her psychic abilities, but no one can deny that her vision of the spirit and the doorknob led to the discovery of the Lacour diamond. And while we're on the subject, I have some sparkly selfies to show you."

Veronica clapped her hands as I handed her my phone. She was swiping through the photos when my Sir Mix-a-Lot ringtone sounded. She looked up. "It's Ivanna's father."

I grabbed the phone and pressed answer. "Hi, Liam."

"I'm calling to congratulate you on your stupendous work on the case," he said. "You should be proud to know that it's a lead story in the Italian news."

"You're in Italy?"

Veronica looked as surprised as I was.

"I had Ivanna buried beside her mother," he said, the pain evident in his tone.

"I'm glad." I wanted to ask him about the belladonna, but I didn't feel right about doing it after he'd mentioned the burial.

"I also wanted you to know that the police called me this morning." He paused. "They've released Adam."

Liam had just presented me with the opening I needed. "Did they ask if you'd planted the belladonna in his lab?"

There was silence on the line. "As far as they're concerned, the case is closed," he said in a cautious tone. "And as for Adam, the arrest gave him the opportunity to sober up and think about his actions, past and future. So, all things considered, there was no harm done."

I was silent as I wrestled with my conscience. Liam had committed a crime, but what good would it do to turn him in? Adam was already free, but Liam might go to jail—that is, if he came back to the United States. And if he was imprisoned, he could never work for Doctors Without Borders again.

There was a muffled voice over a loudspeaker.

Liam cleared his throat. "That's my boarding call."

I wasn't surprised he was at the airport. "Are you going back to Syria?"

"Afghanistan."

The call came over the loudspeaker again.