Celestial Bodies (3 page)

 
Nick looked at him suspiciously. “And you don’t feel it’s disloyal to your friend to hire me?”

“I didn’t say Maurice was my friend. As you put it, we merely travel in the same circles.” Claude leaned forward slightly, a look of sympathy on his face. “I don’t know the details, of course, but Maurice is a harsh man. I’m sure you had your reasons for helping that girl escape from him.”

Nick shifted uncomfortably, wondering why this conversation made his hackles rise. “I’m obliged to inform you,” he said at last, “that if my license is revoked during the course of investigating your case, I will have to abandon the investigation. I will, of course, refund your deposit.”

“Fair enough,” said Claude with a courteous smile.

Nick frowned. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what the trouble is?”

Claude sighed. “You remember my mother, perhaps, from the Montreaux affair?”

Nick nodded. “I met your mother once.” He remembered Mrs. Bouvier vaguely as the sweet and naïve wife of a tense corporate giant and the mother of two children: a willful teenage girl and a supercilious young man—Claude himself. Five years ago, Claude had been twenty-eight, the same age as Nick at the time. That was the only thing they had in common.

“My father died two years ago,” Claude said.

“I read about it in the papers.” Nick didn’t offer false sympathy. He also remembered that Claude and his father had detested each other.

“His death was a terrible blow to Mother, who was completely unprepared for the burden that has befallen her. Father generously left everything to her without preparing her for the responsibilities she would face alone.” Claude shook his head sadly. “So my delicate and—if I may be frank—naïve mother is now in charge of all the family holdings.”

“Go on,” said Nick, wondering what this was leading to.

“Shortly after Father’s death, Mother began seeing an astrologist to advise her.” Claude looked expectantly at Nick.

“Well?” Nick prompted.

“I believe she initially went there with lighthearted intentions.” Claude smiled deprecatingly. “However, she has since grown to rely heavily on this man, this stargazer. She sees him at least once a week, more often if she faces an important decision. She puts absolute trust in him and follows all his advice, no matter how inappropriate or ridiculous.”

“I can understand your concern,” Nick said, recognizing aware that Claude’s concern was not so much for his mother as for the family fortune. “But there’s nothing I can do about your mother’s new hobby.”

“If only it were that harmless,” Claude said. “I’m convinced this astrologer is the cleverest kind of con man, preying on wealthy, lonely women.”

“Has he acquired sums of money from your mother, apart from his regular fee?” Nick asked.

“He may have. I can’t get a straight answer out of her. But I think he’s got much bigger plans than that.”

“Such as?”

“I think he plans to get her to invest in his business. He and his daughter run an obscure shop in some tawdry part of the
Vieux Carré
. I think he may intend to convince Mother to start transferring our family’s money to
his
family, if you see what I mean. But that’s not the worst of it.”

“What
is
the worst of it?”

“I believe he’s courting her.”

“Courting?”

“Yes.” Claude stood up and paced in front of Nick’s desk. “I know very little about the man’s background, but I do know that he married a wealthy businesswoman. She died mysteriously three years ago. He promptly took all that money and moved down here to New Orleans, setting himself up quite comfortably.”

“You think he plans to marry your mother for her money?”

“Yes. And perhaps even... kill her for it,” Claude added heavily.

“Three years would be a long time for him to wait to remarry if he needed a woman to finance him,” Nick mused.

“He was left quite a tidy fortune. I think it’s only recently that he’d begun to need money desperately.”

“Why?”

“I’m not quite sure. He appears to have run through a great deal by himself. Now his daughter is expanding the business haphazardly, no doubt running up bills he can’t afford to pay.” Claude sat down again. “Do you see my dilemma?”

“Yes,” Nick said slowly. The story sounded logical. A son worried about his wealthy, widowed mother being cheated—even harmed—by a man of questionable ethics. So why did he have such an uneasy feeling about this?

“Then you’ll take the case?”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“I want you to find concrete evidence that this man is a fraud, a user, an opportunist. I’ve tried to talk to my mother about him, but she won’t listen. If a professional investigator could present her with objective proof, perhaps I can stop her from doing anything foolish, before it’s too late.”

Nick stood up and turned his back to Claude. He stared out at the river as it rolled past Algiers. The ferry was pulling away, heading for the dock on the other bank.

He didn’t like Claude, and he knew Claude’s motives for protecting his mother were purely selfish. Yet it did sound as though the woman could be making a big mistake. Moreover, the agency needed the business. He couldn’t fathom why he was so reluctant to accept the case.

“I’ll pay your standard fee, of course. What’s more,” said Claude, “if you investigate this man satisfactorily, I’ll use my influence to help you.”

“How?”

“It’s no secret that your situation is being reviewed by the state licensing board, and that Maurice LeCoz is suing you. I am a very influential man. My family has connections almost everywhere.”

Nick thought of the sweat, hard work, and ambition he and his partner Peter had put into the agency. He thought of their elderly secretary, who had once told him no one else would hire a woman her age. He thought of Peter’s wife, now in her eighth month of pregnancy. And he thought of his own impulsive passions that had put everything in jeopardy.

“I’ll take your case, Mr. Bouvier.”

“Splendid.”

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Felix Stewart. His daughter’s name is Diana. They own the House of Ishtar. I’ve written down the address.” Claude produced a small piece of paper.

“You’ll need to fill out a few papers and make a deposit now. The balance will be due once I’ve completed my investigation and provided you with a complete report.”

“Understood.”

“My secretary will take care of the details,” Nick told his new client, opening the office door.

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

He and Nick omitted shaking hands. Nick closed the door and looked down at the slip of paper Claude Bouvier had given him.

“The House of Ishtar in the French Quarter,” he murmured to himself. If the agency weren’t in such deep water, he might have found this a very interesting case.

There was relatively little information about Felix Stewart and the House of Ishtar from the usual sources. As far as Nick could tell, Stewart and his daughter paid their bills, ran an honest business, and had never been sued or arrested. A two-day stakeout also provided little information, since neither of them left the House of Ishtar the entire time.

He would need to get inside the shop, he decided. How? He could pose as a customer, he supposed, and sign up for astrology readings or yoga classes. He finally decided to play it by ear and walked into the House of Ishtar’s little courtyard without a definite plan of action.

He grinned when he saw the sign:
Help Wanted. Inquire Within.

It must be written in the stars, he thought wryly.

Chapter Two

THE KNIGHT OF SWORDS

Minor Arcana

Meaning:
A young man of courage and skill, though headstrong; conflict; heroism.

Reversed:
Extreme impulsiveness; false show of courage; bragging.

“Do you want lunch?” Diana asked, stepping into Felix’s study. He was staring into space, apparently contemplating mystic messages. “Felix!”

“Huh?” He turned to look at her. “Oh, Diana. I’m awfully hungry. Do you suppose it’s nearly lunchtime?”

She sighed. “What are you thinking about?”

He looked up at her. Without warning he reached for her hand and drew her nearer to the round table at which he sat. With a graceful, sweeping motion, he spread out the cards of the tarot deck facedown in an even line.

“Pick one,” he said.

Diana heard the soft tinkle of bells coming from the shop to which Felix’s consulting room was attached. “I can’t now, Felix. Someone’s just entered the shop.”

“Please, this will just take a moment,” Felix insisted.

Knowing he would only persist if she refused again, Diana selected a card, pulled it out, and flipped it over. It was the Knight of Swords.

“That’s it. He’s come,” said Felix.

“Who has?”

“The help you wanted. A young man of courage and skill.”

Diana stared at her father.

“Go on, Diana. He’s waiting for you in the shop. He’s the one.”

Diana turned to leave. She turned back. “I hate it when you do things like this,” she said in exasperation. “Even if the person out there
is
here to apply for the job, how am I supposed to interview someone sensibly, with you spouting off to me that our destiny has just arrived?”

“You don’t need to interview him sensibly,” said Felix reasonably. “He’s the one. I’ve just told you.”

“Urrrgh.” Diana lowered her head in defeat and left the room.

He was waiting for her by the cash register, his eyes roaming curiously around the shop. He was at least six feet tall, with wavy, black hair that gleamed like satin, and shockingly blue eyes that looked exotic in his dark visage.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Nick’s gaze rested on the woman with the honey-smooth voice. She walked toward him with a catlike grace, her green eyes studying him with evident curiosity. A glorious array of strawberry-blond curls tumbled around her shoulders. As she drew nearer, he could detect the faint fragrance of jasmine oil.

“I’d like to inquire about the job,” he said, nodding to the sign in the window.

Diana drew in a sharp breath. He wasn’t remotely like the earlier two applicants. One had been an intense young woman dressed in black, right down to her black lipstick and nail polish. The other was a thin, pale, nervous boy studying anthropology at the university.

This man appeared to be in his early thirties. Despite his casual clothes, he exuded an aura of confidence, control and physical power. He grinned at her surprised expression, and waves of natural sexuality spilled forth and poured over Diana.

“We... uh... expected a university student or something,” she said.

“I’m not a student anymore, but I’d still like to inquire,” he responded charmingly.

She blinked. He had bedroom eyes, piercing and intimate. “Of course. Why don’t we sit in the courtyard?”

Diana led him outside. She could feel his gaze burning into her back as he followed her, and it made her unusually self-conscious. There was something very different about this man. It wasn’t just his darkly exotic good looks, his predatory grace, or his leanly muscled length.