Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series (9 page)

“
Holy crap! This is for
me?”

The adjoining kitchen was also painted
the same shade of yellow, with oak cabinets and beige-granite
countertops. Plopping her backpack on the breakfast bar, she began
inspecting the full-sized refrigerator, small stove, dishwasher,
and wide sink.

Melinda ran her hands along the stove.
“No more hot plates!” she almost squealed.

She began opening cabinet doors and
inspecting all the room she had for dishes, pots, and utensils.
There was even a wide pantry set behind a door in the corner of the
kitchen.

“
Look at the size of this
thing,” she said in a reverent tone, taking in the
pantry.

Bubbling with excitement, she went to
the wide row of picture windows, and was awestruck by the grand
view of the Mississippi River. Eager to see more, she ventured down
a short hallway just off to her right. The first door she came to
opened to a bathroom with his and her sinks, a shower stall, a
Jacuzzi bathtub set into the corner, a linen closet, and a private
room for the toilet.

Grinning from ear to ear, Melinda left
the bathroom and stepped across the hall to another door. She found
a spacious bedroom with a recessed ceiling, walk-in closet, and a
quaint sitting area off to the right, with two beige wingback
chairs in front of another wide picture window. In the center of
the room was a king-sized, black-iron canopy bed, with a headboard
reminiscent of the romantic balconies of many a French Quarter
home. Detailed with swirls and intricate floral designs, the bed
was a work of art. On either side were two dark mahogany
nightstands, with a matching mahogany dresser and chest of drawers
completing the room.

After exiting the bedroom, she noticed
a white metal door at the end of the short hallway. When Melinda
pulled the door open, she discovered a six-foot by eight-foot room
painted white. The floors, unlike the rest of the apartment, were
covered with white tile that was blemished with deep scratches and
black scuff marks.

While standing in the doorway, Melinda
felt drawn to the corner of the room. There was a presence. She
could feel someone calling to her, and then a vision came forward.
A woman—a shadow really—with blurred features and hair around her
shoulders was standing before her. The only detail Melinda could
make out was something shiny binding her wrists. She was crying,
and as the image faded, a white mist formed in the corner of the
room.

“
No, don’t show yourself to
me.” She threw her head back and groaned. “I don’t talk to the
dead, I just see the future.”

The mist hastily retreated and the
heavy feeling in the room vanished. Melinda sighed with relief. It
wasn’t the first time she had seen ghosts. Hell, she had lived in
the French Quarter of New Orleans and seen stranger stuff than many
paranormal writers could possibly imagine, but she had always tried
to tune out the dead. She knew a few mediums who had warned her to
never open the door to the afterlife. The dead were reputed to be
pushy, obnoxious, and relentless when they needed to be heard,
driving more than a few mediums out of their minds.

Retreating from the room, she shut the
metal door with a loud bang. Heading back down the hall, she
wondered if there would be footsteps waking her in the night or
doors opening and closing on their own.

I should be more
frightened of the man living next door to me than having a ghost in
my apartment.

Brushing off her concerns about unseen
visitors, Melinda entered the living room and took one more look
around.

“
I think I’ll tell the
movers to take all my stuff and put it in storage. My crap is going
to look so trashy next to these nice things.”

A knock at her open front door
startled Melinda. When she looked up, Phil was filling up her
doorway with his massive physique.

“
What do you think?” He
waved the clipboard in his hand around her living room.

“
I can’t believe this is
all for me,” she gushed.

Phil leaned against the doorframe.
“Mr. Cole will be pleased.” He gestured to an intercom system by
the entrance. “Let me show you how to use this.” Phil strutted over
to the intercom speaker with a row of colored buttons below it.
“You press the blue button to call me or the other security guard
on duty at the desk. The green button goes to Marv … in case you
need something fixed. If he doesn’t answer, there’s a voice mail
system that takes messages.” He pointed to a red button. “This is
for emergencies. It rolls over to 911. You’ll find another panel
just like this one in your bedroom. Mr. Cole likes his tenants to
feel safe.”

Melinda noticed another button on the
panel. “What about that one? The yellow one?”

Phil nonchalantly tossed his head to
the side. “It isn’t hooked up to anything. It’s just an extra
button. Came with the system.” He then nodded to the furniture in
the living room. “You got any idea of what you want to
keep?”

“
I’ll be keeping
everything,” she gleefully proclaimed. “I just need a few boxes
from the truck with my clothes, my keyboard, and some personal
items. The rest they can put into storage.”

Phil winced. “Keyboard? Are you a
musician?”

“
I’ve only played in some
of the local hotels, but I studied music in college and hope one
day to make a career in the music industry here.”

“
Just don’t play that
keyboard of yours too loud. Mr. Cole likes quiet.”

Melinda gazed about the apartment.
“Oh, I didn’t realize. Maybe I should—”

“
I’m sorry.” Phil uttered a
heartfelt sigh. “I didn’t mean to jump on you, but you may want to
remember who your neighbor is. When I moved in here, I used to play
my stereo kind of loud until Mr. Cole mentioned it one day in
passing. Now I use headphones, because I really like my
job.”

“
How long have you worked
for Mr. Cole?”

“
About a year. I used to be
Mr. Cole’s trainer, and then he asked me if I was interested in
taking over security for his building. His former head of security
relocated to Florida.”

Melinda noted the man’s enormous
biceps. “So I guess that was a promotion for you.”

Phil nodded and smiled. He had a warm
smile that didn’t seem to fit his menacing features. “I was
desperate to get away from the gym where I worked.” Phil took a
step into the living room. “It was this exclusive exercise club in
Place de St. Charles. You know the kind … all the women who went
there were looking for rich husbands.”

The mention of women aroused Melinda’s
interest. “Is that why Mr. Cole went there? For the
women?”

Phil shook his head. “Nah, he likes a
certain kind of woman.”

“
What kind of woman?” she
probed, anxious to know more.

Phil cast his eyes to the living room
floor, appearing tentative. “Ah, the kind who doesn’t …” He lowered
his clipboard. “There are rumors around the building that Mr. Cole
is into … a different lifestyle.” He dropped his voice. “You know,
the kind where he’s in control. What do they call that?”

“
Bossy?” Melinda
offered.

Phil chuckled. “Bossy, I like that.
Anyway, his kind of woman can’t be found at a fitness
club.”

His kind of woman? What
does that mean?

Melinda made a mental note to stay on
Phil’s good side, in case she ever needed information about
Nathan.

“
Sounds like you know Mr.
Cole pretty well.”

Phil shrugged. “I just see all the
comings and goings in this building. Who people are with is
something I have to know as part of my job. But Mr. Cole doesn’t
like people knowing too much about his relationships. He’s always
discreet. Always.” Phil glanced around her apartment. “Well, if
you’re keeping everything in here, you’d better come and tell the
movers what you need off the truck. Then they can take your stuff
to Mr. Cole’s storage facility north of the lake.”

“
Why does he have a storage
facility all the way over there?”

“
North of Lake
Pontchartrain doesn’t flood. Mr. Cole stores a lot of things out of
the city. It’s the only way to make sure everything isn’t destroyed
in case another Katrina comes along.”

To Melinda, it seemed like every
resident of New Orleans lived in the shadow of Katrina. There were
moments when she thought she couldn’t stand hearing another story
about the storm and its horrible aftermath. But then she would
unexpectedly find herself being moved, yet again, by another
version of those god-awful events. Since relocating to the Big
Easy, Melinda had learned recovery was not something that took a
few years to achieve, but it evolved over the course of a lifetime;
because sometimes it took a lifetime to forget about all the
pain.

Chapter 6

The fading evening light was streaming
through the picture windows as Melinda sat on her living room floor
and went through the pile of boxes gathered around her. She had
spent most of the morning going back and forth from the moving
truck and pulling out things she wanted to keep. It was well after
noon when the three moving men left The Shallows and headed for
Nathan’s storage facility.

As she unpacked a collection of framed
photographs of her brothers, Melinda felt an excited tickle. This
was a new sensation for her, experiencing such luxurious
accommodations. She giggled with delight as she pictured the coming
days and weeks working with Nathan Cole.

However, her celebration was
short-lived when her thoughts crept back to Jack. She wondered
where he was and what he was doing. Taking in the red fingers of
light stretching through her windows, Melinda surmised it was about
the time when they would have been packing up from a day at Jackson
Square. Jack would then walk her home, and sometimes they would
grab a bite to eat along the way.

A sudden knock at the front door
brushed away all of her warm memories. To Melinda’s happy surprise,
Nathan was standing in her doorway holding a bottle of La Grande
Dame Champagne in one hand and two crystal flutes in the other. In
jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt, his thick brown hair was
damp and he smelled of some exotic cologne. When his eyes traveled
over the curves of her ratty blue jeans and faded gray House of
Voodoo T-shirt, Melinda blushed.

“
Nathan, what are you doing
here?”

“
I thought we would
celebrate your moving in. Since you liked the champagne at The
Grill Room …” He held up the bottle and glasses.

She waved him inside. “That was very
kind. Thank you.”

“
I should be the one
thanking you, Melinda. You don’t know how happy I am that you’re
here.” He went to the kitchen as Melinda closed the front door. “So
what do you think of my building?” He placed the bottle and glasses
on the breakfast bar.

“
You mean your haunted
building?”

Nathan’s grin was intoxicating. “You
noticed.”

Her hands in the back pockets of her
jeans, she strolled across the living room to the bar. “Was this a
test?”

Nathan began opening drawers in the
kitchen. “It wasn’t a test. I was just curious if you would feel
them.”

“
So you wanted to see if I
was a medium, too?” She frowned at him as he searched through the
drawers. “What are you looking for?”

“
A towel to open the
champagne.”

“
I’ll get one from the
bathroom. I haven’t unpacked my kitchen stuff yet.” Melinda trotted
along the short hallway.

Before she stepped inside the
bathroom, she noticed the metal door to the storage room at the end
of the hall was slightly ajar. Ignoring her urge to go and close
it, she went into the bathroom and removed a hand towel from the
pile she had neatly stacked in the linen closet. As she exited the
bathroom, she looked once more to the storage room, only to find
the door was now closed.

“
I thought women always
unpacked the kitchen first when they moved into a new home,” Nathan
remarked when she returned to the kitchen.

She handed him the towel. “Where is
that written in stone?”

He directed his attention to the
champagne bottle. “It’s not, but whenever my ex-wife and I moved
into a new house, she would always unpack the kitchen
first.”

“
Did you and your ex-wife
move a lot?”

He wrapped the towel around
the cork. “In our six years together we lived in one condo and two
houses. When we divorced, she kept the house in Raleigh and I moved
down here.” A slight
pop
rang out as he pulled the cork free.

“
Do you stay in touch with
her?”

“
I have to. Yvette, my ex,
still owns half the assets in a few of my business ventures up in
North Carolina.” He carefully poured the champagne into the crystal
flutes on the bar. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“
What is that?”

He set the bottle on the bar. “Why did
I get divorced?”

“
I already know
why.”

Nathan arched a dark eyebrow. “You saw
that in a vision or felt it from me?”