Scarlet Lady (18 page)

Moments later he was knocking on her door. “Katie! Katie!”

“Go away, Montana.” Her response came instantly, as if she hadn’t moved since he left.

“Open the door, Katie. We have a lead to Leon.”

The door opened. “A lead to Leon? How?”

“Through Cat. Come on.”

All Katie’s lethargy disappeared. Moments later, still wearing the black skirt and jacket and boots, she was buckled inside Montana’s car.

He expected questions. She didn’t ask any. Instead, she looked straight ahead, her dark hair whipping in the breeze like a fierce Cajun woman straight out of the bayou. He was beginning to understand that the real Mary Katherine Carithers was a woman of many faces.

“Can’t you go any faster?” she finally asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t have to be told twice.”

Even following Cat’s directions, René’s Place was so far off the beaten path that Montana almost missed it. There was no sign. Only the zydeco music blaring from the open windows of a building that looked as if it might slide off into the bayou at any moment told him he was there. He pulled into the graveled parking area and under the limbs of a water oak.

“René’s Place,” Katie said breathlessly. “Of course. I should have thought of him. He knows everyone along the bayou.”

“Katie, I know you’re anxious, but before we go inside, we’d better have a plan. From what Cat said, René might not like being questioned by an outsider.”

She didn’t answer for a moment, then straightened her shoulders and turned to Montana with a smile. “Do you like loud music and Cajun food?”

He didn’t quite know how to take her sudden change of mood. “Sure. So long as there’s plenty to drink.”

“I think René can provide that. Follow me. And don’t worry. I’m
not
an outsider.”

With a long-legged stride that made Montana’s pulse race, Katie led him inside. She went straight to the bar, climbed up on a stool, reached across, and hugged an enormous man with a droopy black mustache. “René. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,
ma chérie
. Where you been?”

“Working. Working too hard. This is Montana. We’re looking for something hot, something cold to wash it down with, and a little information.”

“Sure thing. Find yourself a seat.”

As if she were a regular patron, Katie headed toward an empty table in the corner, shedding the jacket and hanging it over one shoulder. Montana followed her, along with the gaze of every man in the house. He wished he’d given her time to change into something less distracting.

She picked a chair and flashed him another pulse-raising smile. “Don’t look so fierce,” she said. “We’re supposed to be here to have fun.”

“I didn’t hear you.” He raised his voice. “The music.”

She leaned forward. “I know. It’s loud. This place is
like your driving—high-energy. I said, don’t look so fierce. You’ll worry the natives.”

“Sorry,” he said, forcing himself to get into the mood. God knew, he’d had enough experience in playacting. But with Katie, it was becoming harder and harder. “It’s just that I never would have pictured you in a place like this.”

“People that know me would never have pictured me in your casino either. I’m an accountant. Accountants are serious people. You’re a gambler, you’re supposed to be the daring one.”

“And you think I don’t look daring?”

“Look around you, gambling man. Compared to René’s other customers, you look like a man who’s doing some serious waiting.”

Though he was wearing jeans and a blue cotton shirt, Montana thought about what she’d said and nodded. With all the bright colors around the room, he did look serious tonight. They’d reversed their roles. Or maybe they’d just let their secret sides surface.

He thought about the Katie who’d presented such a competent, unruffled front to the world, then, when she’d gotten scared, she’d jumped into the Mississippi and swum to shore. He remembered a woman who faced her desires head-on and asked him to make love to her. Judging a person by the public face he or she wore was always a mistake. He’d learned that playing poker. He studied the dark-haired woman across the table. She was laughing. Instead of composure, there was a hint of rebellion under the control, a hint that suggested secret passion, controlled but ever present.

She leaned forward, touching her lips lightly to his, then pulled back. “So, smile,
chéri
. You’re in Cajun country. Let the good times roll.”

The music stopped for a moment, then began again, the fiddle screaming, feet stomping, and an accordion joining the fracas. Katie nodded, then turned her attention to the postage-sized dance floor where two couples were dancing. Zydeco music, the music of the Cajuns, the dance of passion.

A shout and a sudden increase in the music made speech impossible for a moment. The waiter appeared with plates of steaming red beans and rice covered with chunks of sausage, crawfish, and pungent red sauce.

“If you don’t like it hot, you’re in big trouble,” Katie called out, filling her mouth with food.

“Oh lady, I like it hot. There’s nothing tame about my taste buds.”

Katie ate, laughed, and during moments of rare quiet, carried on a running conversation with the people at the other tables.

“Been a long time. Where’s your fiery friend Cat?” one of the diners asked.

“Left her behind tonight,” Katie answered saucily. “I’ve been manhunting.”

The diner’s companion cut her eyes to Montana and said, “Well, if this was the one you were hunting, looks like you found a good one.”

“No, this is my—”

“Her fiancé,” Montana growled.

“My partner,” she corrected. “Tonight I’m looking for a gentleman who drives a big gray car, a limousine.”

The man at the next table frowned and glanced across at his drinking buddy. “Why you want an old guy like that, sweet thing?”

“Oh, I don’t want him. I just want to ask him about the man I’m after.”

“And who’d that be?”

“I’ve been told,” Katie said, “that my brother, Carson, might be with the man in the limo.”

“Carson?” René questioned as he refilled their glasses, then dropped down in the chair next to Kate, whispering in her ear, “Your brother’s a loser, Katie. Give up on him.”

Katie leaned sideways, looped one arm around René’s neck, playing with his shaggy mustache with one finger. “Carson may be in trouble, René. I need to find Leon. Please? Do you know him?”

René nodded. “I may know him.”

Montana had been holding on to the arms of his chair to keep himself from shoving René away from Katie. “You
may
know him?”

René glared at Montana. “Dance with me,
chérie
, and I’ll recollect.”

René was big, but he was light on his feet. When he pulled Katie onto the floor, everybody else fell back, leaving the two of them to dance. It didn’t take Montana long to see that Sam had missed a good chance not hiring Katie as a showgirl. René’s hands pulled her close, twirling and turning her to the rhythm. She laughed and talked, flirting openly with the older man as they danced, driving Montana crazy with jealousy. By
the time the song ended, perspiration was rolling down Montana’s face and Katie was out of breath.

“Whoooeee! All them lessons. You still some dancer,” René said, his arm around her waist. “Why you stay away so long?”

“I don’t know, René. I didn’t think so at the time, but maybe Cat and Carson were my excuse to do a lot of things I didn’t dare do on my own. I’ve missed you too.”

When René left the floor, the musicians took a break, and for a few minutes the customers could hear themselves talk.

“About this Leon,” René said, leaning close to Katie. “He don’t like folks to know what he does. He don’t even use his real name. If he did, you’d know him.”

“I would?” Katie said. “Who is he?”

“Louis Gaspard.”

Katie almost choked. Everybody in Louisiana knew Louis Gaspard, at least they knew the first Louis Gaspard. He’d been a pirate. Most people didn’t know about the present-day Louis.

“Leon is Louis Gaspard? Is he still around?”

“Sure he is. He don’t leave. Just as peculiar as he was when your brother Carson ran with his boy.” René looked at Montana as if to explain. “Dario was his son. Dario was the one who got them all in trouble. He was the one Cat came here to see.”

Katie remembered Cat’s infatuation with the secretive Cajun. Dario was older and even wilder than Cat. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, hadn’t done, or wouldn’t try. For too many of Carson’s early years, he’d
run around with Dario, until Dario dropped out of sight.

“What happened to Dario?”

“Killed, in a fire. Drunk, drugged out of his mind. Almost burned down that old pirate’s stronghold. Folks say old Leon’s gone squirrelly, closing himself and that mute that drives for him up in that big old house like some kind of monk. They say strange things go on up there.”

Montana held his tongue for fear of stopping René’s flow of information.

Katie tilted her head, gazing at René with the kind of barely controlled excitement Montana wanted to spark in her. “It’s still there? I thought the house burned to the ground,” she said.

“He built it back, just like it was when the first Gaspard lived in it. Brought in outsiders to do the work so none of us would know where it was.”

“So you can’t tell us how to find it?” Montana asked.

“No. Never went there myself. Crossing swords with old Leon is something nobody in his right mind wants to do.”

A customer got René’s attention, taking him back to the bar. “Well,” Katie said, as if she were talking to herself, “I guess we’ve identified our mysterious Leon.”

Montana wasn’t certain he believed René’s claim that he didn’t know where the house was. It was the same kind of brick wall he’d run into over and over, a conspiracy of silence.

“You really know Gaspard?” Montana asked, forcing
himself to concentrate on Leon instead of Katie’s flushed face and sparkling eyes.

“I know
of
him. At least I knew Dario. Ten years ago Cat was crazy about him. I’m not sure she ever got over him.” She stood up, suddenly serious. “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure,” Montana agreed, following her toward the door. At the bar he reached for his wallet and pulled out several bills. René simply took them with a nod.

“Take care of her, Montana. Some say Louis is crazy. People around him have disappeared.”

“Some good-bye,” Montana observed as they went back to the car. Just what Katie needed to hear. Even Montana felt uneasy.

Still, he knew that telling Katie he’d take it from here wouldn’t work. If he didn’t keep her with him, she’d go off on her own.

“So, any ideas on how we get to this Louis Gaspard?”

“I don’t know,” Katie said wearily. What she didn’t say was that Cat would know. She’d been to Dario’s.

“Tell me what you know about the Gaspards.”

“Two hundred years ago Gaspard robbed the original planters, including the Caritherses, of everything the Spanish didn’t take. Built himself a hideaway in a place so removed from the world that nobody could find it. Apparently, it still is.”

“Yep. Everybody’s heard about that Gaspard. It’s Leon I’m interested in.”

“They’ve always been thieves. Even Dario. While he and Carson were in college, he got arrested for dealing
drugs. Then he disappeared from Louisiana. I was glad to see him go, Carson didn’t need his kind of influence. And neither did Cat. Now Dario’s dead and Carson …”

“Is missing,” Montana said.

“Oh, Montana,” Katie’s voice broke. “Do you think he’s all right?”

This time Montana couldn’t hold back. He folded his arms around Katie and pulled her close. “Of course he is.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am. I’ll get you home. Once we find Leon, I’m sure he’ll be able to lead us to Carson.”

Katie didn’t argue. It felt too good to be held. She didn’t think either. The feel of Montana’s arms around her took her thoughts in a direction she didn’t want them to go. For now, she’d just accept this and his comfort.

When they reached the plantation, it seemed natural for Montana to give Katie a good-night kiss. She didn’t resist. She knew he wanted her, but he didn’t force the issue. Desire burned between them, and sooner or later they’d either smother it or set it free.

The next morning, Katie went into her office early. She needed to rearrange her schedule. Cat was late when she slid in the office side door and headed for her desk.

“And where have you been?” Katie asked.

“Nowhere. Just overslept.”

“Oh, then I didn’t wake you?”

Cat’s eyes widened. “Wake me?”

“I’ve been trying to call you. You didn’t answer. Then your car phone was busy.”

“Uh, yes. I was talking.”

Katie stood and paced back and forth for a long serious minute before she stopped and walked over to Cat’s desk. “Who were you talking to, Cat?”

“I … I …”

“It was Montana, wasn’t it? He called you.”

“How did you know?”

“I know how Montana’s mind works. Once he learned that you and Dario were lovers, it made sense for him to get to you. What I didn’t expect is for you to tell him how to get to Leon before you told me. You did, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. I’m not really sure where the house is.”

“But you have been there, haven’t you? Otherwise how would you know where it was?”

“Yes. It was the last time I saw Dario. We went to the hideaway. It was a mistake. He was out of control. I didn’t mind a little wine, but he got stoned. He scared me. I found my own way home.”

“How?”

“By pirogue.”

Katie reached over, took a map from her desk, and unfolded it. “Show me.”

“You can’t go by yourself, Katie. I’m not even sure I could get back there again,” Cat said. “I’ll only tell you if you go with Montana.”

Something in Cat’s manner told Katie that was the only way she’d get the information she wanted. “Of course,” she said.

“You promise?” Cat narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She wasn’t quite sure she ought to believe Katie.

“Why would I lie?” was Katie’s firm answer.

Cat hesitated. “I think I’d better come along.”