Steamy Southern Nights (8 page)

“I don’t want to know this,” Claude said, sounding totally frustrated.

“At least she didn’t try and sell them,” Lucy reminded him. She wrinkled her brow. “I would think so long as the original family never tries to sell the diamonds again, no one would ever know.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“I think it’s more important that we have to figure out how to put the Gimmel necklace back,” Lucy said again.

“It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Well, I think I’ll put supper on. I can’t stand to think of those awful people killing all those frogs when I could have helped prevent it.”

“She has a point,” Lucy said, when she was alone with Claude.

“Don’t you start.”

She looked at him, feeling suddenly shy and fluttery. “You’ve never stolen anything, have you?”

He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head slowly. “I’m the black sheep. How did you figure it out?”

“Isabelle said the necklace was stolen between two and four and I knew you’d been…um…busy during those hours.”

He grinned. “Very busy. And when can we—“

One kiss she allowed him, it seemed only fair after wrongly believing he was a jewel thief. Then she said, “It’s too dangerous for you to return that necklace alone. Luckily, I have a plan.”

Her expectations were not met when, instead of looking at her eagerly to hear her plan, he groaned and dropped his head in his hand.

Claude decided that the women in his life were going to be the death of him. Too bad he was so crazy about them both.

His mother, the international and supposedly retired jewel thief, had been as enamored of Lucy’s plan as he’d feared.

“I hope this works,” said Lucy, her voice sounding strained.

“If it doesn’t, we’ll all end up in jail,” Claude said, wishing he’d been able to convince the two sweet but misguided women in his life to stay home. “Maybe they’ll send us somewhere that has family cells.”

When they’d announced they were going alone if he didn’t feel like coming along – well, what could he do?

“We’ll be brilliant.” Beatrice sighed. “It’s so nice to work with partners again.”

“Last time, mama. You promised.”

“I know. But let’s go out in style.” She beamed at them, looking a good ten years younger with the glow of excitement mantling her cheeks. “You remember your part, Lucy.”

“Yes. I keep the horrible husband occupied.”

“Right. I’m going on the pretext of inviting that awful woman to join the garden committee. Everyone will think I’ve lost my mind when I announce I’m sponsoring her,” his mother said bitterly.

“And I will need to use the washroom,” Claude said, thinking as plans went it was about the lamest he’d ever heard. Not that he’d come up with anything better. The one good thing was that no one in their right mind would think he’d come to return a stolen item to the safe, so they at least had surprise on their sides.

The Gimmels were predictably happy to see his mother and fawned all over her. Her reputation as a society woman made her the object of a lot of fawning from people like the Gimmels. They seemed surprised to see him and Lucy in tow, but his mother made their unexpected appearance sound like a treat.

“I brought my son Claude along, and our Canadian cousin Lucy. They drove me, you see, and after I’d finished telling them how lovely your home is, they were anxious to have a peek.”

“Of course,” the razor-thin woman said, showing teeth that were awfully big for how little a workout they must get eating. “Edward,” she ordered the husband. “Fetch the drinks cart.”

Oh, good. They were going to pretend they were in a Noel Coward play. Drinks cart. Shit.

Still, better a mild drawing room farce than say, Tennessee Williams, who might be a local, but the fate of families in his plays was a little too dismal for Claude’s taste right now.

Soon they were all settled in an ostentatious living room, overstuffed with very expensive and very tasteless furniture. Priceless antiques were shoved next to ultra-modern pieces from the Milan furniture fair. The look was probably supposed to be eclectic, but to his eye was an unsightly mess. He almost wondered whether his mother was right and they should hock the jewels currently tucked in his pocket and give the proceeds to charity.

Lucy would never forgive him though, and Lucy’s opinion had become altogether too important.

So, he made small talk over a scotch, let his mother charm the pants off their hosts, and watched Lucy try and pretend she wasn’t a bag of nerves.

After he felt they’d all had long enough to get comfortable, he said, “Excuse me, can I use your washroom?”

“Yes, of course,” said Edward Gimmel. “Right through there.”

“Thanks.”

He slid through ornate double doors and headed in the direction of the washroom, then slipped upstairs, pulling cotton gloves on as he went. He figured he had at least seven or eight minutes before anyone wondered where he was. He ought to be done in four.

His mother had told him where to find the safe, so he wasted no time but headed directly for the master bedroom and an enormous walk-in closet that reeked of some cloying perfume. Did these people not have restraint in anything?

Closing the door and flicking on the pencil flashlight, he pushed aside a shoe rack and uncovered the safe.

Three minutes later, he had the safe open and was lifting some papers, ready to slide the necklace into place.

That was when he noticed the flaw in Lucy’s plan.

A barking, growling, teeth baring flaw.

Lucy was doing her best, but she knew – if she’d ever been curious – that she wasn’t cut out for crime. Her armpits felt damp, her palms downright slippery and the questions she posed to Edward Gimmel about the resort he’d invested in somewhere in the Bahamas couldn’t have been more brainless.

A couple more minutes, she thought, and they’d be out of here.

Then the barking started. The kind of barking that comes from a hysterical, hyper little dog.

“Princess?” Mrs. Gimmel shrieked. “We shut her upstairs when guests are coming. She can be annoying, but she’s a very good watch dog.”

“Where’s your son?” Mr. Gimmel asked, leaping to his feet.

“He’ll be back,” Beatrice said so serenely that Lucy had to give her credit. “Little dogs get excited about nothing don’t they? We used to have a cocker spaniel–.”

Gimmel wasn’t buying the diversion. With an ugly look he jumped to his feet and ran out. He went first to the guest bathroom, but of course it was empty, then he charged for the stairs where the shrill, endless barking reminded Lucy of a car alarm that won’t shut off.

Lucy had no idea what she was going to do, but she followed her host with the bad toupee. He went straight for the sound of the hysterical barking, which was coming from behind a closed door that had to be the bedroom where Claude was no doubt standing in front of an open safe.

Damn and damn. Bloody dog.

“Mr. Gimmel. I was so hoping you’d give me a tour of the house. This is wonderful,” she said in a loud voice. If Claude could get out of the window or something, they could still salvage this. Gimmel ignored her and threw open the bedroom door. Still acting as imbecilic as she knew how – and it was amazing how much imbecility had lain dormant all this time – she pushed her way in front of him into the room. “Oh, is this your bedroom? What a lovely room. Oh, and this is your sweet dog.”

An over-coiffed Pekingese was jumping up at a door that presumably led to the walk in closet and yapping its fool head off.

“Good dog.” She said. “Quiet.”

She turned to say something inane to her host and then froze. He held a blunt-nosed pistol in his hand and it was trained on the closet door.

“Come out of there,” he ordered.

“Honestly,” she tried to speak loudly enough to be heard inside the closet while simultaneously beating back the panic dancing in her chest. “Why are you holding a gun? It’s probably a mouse or something.”

“Get away from that door,” Gimmel yelled. He pulled out a slim cell phone and before her horrified gaze called 9-1-1 to report a robbery in progress.

“I’ve called the cops,” he yelled. “Come out where I can see you.”

“Good,” said Claude, calmly walking out of the door, holding a sheaf of papers. “I think the police would be very interested in seeing this.”

“You bastard,” said Gimmel.

“What is it?” Lucy asked.

“A list of bribes paid to certain officials he needs onside to get his development rammed through in an ecologically sensitive area. I always wondered how you’d got so far.”

“Too bad I shot you before the cops got here,” Gimmel said, slipping off the safety.

“No, you didn’t,” said Beatrice from behind them. She had some kind of semi-automatic weapon in her hands.

“This was in your desk drawer,” she said pleasantly. “I’m not the greatest shot, but at this range, I couldn’t miss.”

“Rose,” she said, when Mrs. Gimmel came gasping up behind her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to withdraw my support of your nomination to the garden committee. Thank you for an entertaining visit.”

“Beatrice, you were fantastic,” Lucy exclaimed later, when the three of them had enjoyed a late supper with an excellent bottle of wine Beatrice had dug out from her cellar.

“Thanks, honey. You were great too, for a novice. With a bit of practice–”

“Mama.”

Lucy turned to Claude, mostly to shut him up. “Isabelle looked pretty happy when you handed her that list.”

His mother’s pleasure dimmed a notch. “I still can’t believe you put the necklace back.”

“I think we did more good for your frogs by uncovering this ring of corruption than selling that necklace would have.”

Beatrice sighed. “I suppose. And it was very exciting.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to going out in style and the beginning of my retirement.”

“May it last,” said her son.

“I was mostly bored, but I think things are going to get a lot more interesting around here.”

“Mama, I am now proposing to take Lucy next door to my house and I don’t plan to bring her back before breakfast. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

“Not a one.”

“Ah, no.”

Lucy missed her plane home. It took almost no persuasion for the mother and son tag team to talk her into extending her stay. She still had two months before school started again and she’d found a lot of research opportunities she might otherwise have overlooked. She’d booked a swamp tour and been horrified to find that the alligators she’d been so scared of followed the tour boat because the driver threw marshmallows overboard. The sharp-toothed creatures acted like puppies when the kibbles come out, sliding with prehistoric stealth into the murky water, jaws snapping – for marshmallows.

She’d toured old homes, eaten in amazing restaurants, drunk coffee and eaten beignets in the Café du Monde, and she met and interviewed dozens of new found relatives.

She found herself falling in love with Louisiana – and with this most interesting branch of her family.

Today she’d left the university early and headed straight for the French Quarter. When her steps led her to her favorite antique shop on Royal, she went inside.

After a friendly greeting, Lana, the sales clerk out front waved her to the back where Claude had a small office.

She walked through the shop, past the pale blue velvet sofa where she’d first started to fall for her distant cousin, to the open door. There he was, dark head bent over. A jewelry box lay open on his desk and she saw that he was cleaning a ring.

Her body tingled as it always did when she saw him. She wanted a minute to watch him when he wasn’t aware of her, but it was impossible. He glanced up even though she hadn’t made a sound. He could feel her, she knew. She wondered if it would always be this way between them and suspected it would.

The smile that lit his eyes was as intimate as the things they’d done to each other last night. Under his knowing gaze, her bones melted to syrup.

“Come on in,” he said.

“Thanks. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d take you to lunch, but it looks like you’re busy.”

“Never too busy for you. You look pleased with yourself.”

“I am. We’re celebrating. I got the assistant professor job.”

“Congratulations.” He rose to kiss her, and she threw herself into his arms. After she was so well congratulated she could barely draw breath, he said, “Does this permanent teaching job mean you’re giving up a life of crime?”

She shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I’ve never been so scared in all my life as when that man pulled a gun and I knew you were in the closet.”

They were still holding each other, so no one could see him when he ran his fingertip over her nipple, so it perked to life. “Probably you should stick to teaching.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that whole jewel heist thing,” she said.

“Now’s good for me.”

She hiked a hip onto his desk and he settled back into his chair. She stroked the edge of the open jewelry box, feeling the old, frayed velvet. “When I found you with that necklace in your hand, you let me believe you were a thief. I felt so angry and betrayed.”

“I know. And I couldn’t tell you it was my mom who was the thief, not me.”

“What if I’d turned you in to the police?” She shivered at the thought which had been torturing her.

“You didn’t.”

She hated even thinking about those awful minutes. “I almost did though. I almost told a NOPD detective that I’d seen you with the necklace. Once I’d told her that, you know I’d have shown her where the safe was.”

“I’ll never forget that moment, either. That’s when I knew.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Knew what?”

“That only one thing was stopping you. It had to be love.”

“Are you saying I love you?”

“I’d rather you said it.” He reached out and touched her hand. “A man likes to know his love is returned.”

She gazed at him and saw his heart in his eyes. The gorgeous, sexy man who made her dizzy with love, loved her back.

“Oh, I do,” she said, feeling her heart pound. “I do love you.”

He dropped his head and went back to polishing the ring, but she saw the glow of happiness on his face.

“What a beautiful ring,” she said, leaning closer. “How can you bear to sell something so lovely?”

“This ring’s not for sale. It belonged to my great—I don’t know how many times great grandmother – I’d need a researcher like you to figure out the generations. It’s the ring her husband gave her before they left France for the new world.”

“Things probably didn’t turn out the way they thought.”

“Things in life rarely do. But they went on to have a dozen kids, most of whom lived, and, eventually, a pretty good life here in New Orleans. My grandmother left it to me when she died. She told me to save it for my wife.”

He held the ring up, letting the light catch it so it glowed deep red. “I thought I’d clean it up. You never know when you’re going to need a ring like this.”

She smiled at him. “No. You never do.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. I see it’s a ruby.”

“So it is.” He placed the newly cleaned ring into the box and then tucked it into his pocket. He took her hand and grinned down at her. “Let’s go have lunch.”