French Silk (46 page)

"Ah, well, I'm relieved," he said. He gave a breathy little laugh. "It's no secret to you that I hold Yasmine in the highest regard."

"No, it's no secret to me." Claire's teasing smile was soon replaced with another frown. "Maybe I've given her too much leeway. I think it's time we had another woman-to-woman talk."

"Please let me know if there's anything I can do. Anything at all."

"I will."

"Claire, you're … you're not angry with me? That matter with Mr. Cassidy—"

"Forget it, Andre. Please. You were unscrupulously tricked. As I've been," she added quietly. "Don't fret about it."

She assured him that it would take more than Cassidy's exploitation to affect their long-standing friendship. They agreed to have dinner together very soon. Shortly after saying goodbye and hanging up, she reached for the telephone again.

* * *

Cassidy sidled up to the undercover cop who'd been assigned to tail Joshua Wilde. As one stranger to another, he asked for a light.

"Didn't know you smoked," the cop said in a low, confidential voice. From his pocket he withdrew a lighter and flipped it open. It shot forth a blaze like a miniature flamethrower.

"I quit a couple of years ago," Cassidy said, choking on the smoke he inhaled.

"You taking it up again?"

"I just asked you for a light, okay? What else could I casually walk up and ask you for? A blow-job?"

The slender black man grinned. His long hair was pulled into a sleek queue at the back of his head and held there with a tight rubber band. He winked and gave Cassidy's shoulder a light squeeze. "I'm expensive. Can you afford me?"

Cassidy threw off the caress. "Fuck you."

"Oooh, sounds delicious, sweet thing." Obviously the young cop, whom Cassidy knew was as straight as a plumb line, was enjoying himself at his expense.

The guy was tall, slender, and good-looking, so he often worked the French Quarter in this cover. A study of insolence and nonchalance, he leaned against a gaslight post located across the street from The Gumbo Shop on St. Peter Street. Through the microphone hidden beneath the lapel of his flashy sharkskin suit, he'd reported to a central monitor that he'd tailed Josh to the popular restaurant. Cassidy, too keyed up to remain either in his downtown office or his stuffy, lonely apartment, had decided to participate actively in the surveillance.

"How long's he been in there?"

The cop checked the counterfeit Rolex on his wrist. "Thirty-two minutes."

"Is he having dinner?"

"Seems so."

Cassidy's eyes squinted against the smoke curling from between his lips. He peered through the blue-gray haze, trying to penetrate the windows of the restaurant. "How long does it take for a party of one to eat dinner?"

In character, the cop gave Cassidy an appraisal like a male prostitute sizing up a prospective client. Assuming the lilting lingo of his cover, he said, "Hey man, your ass is way too tight. If we're gonna have any fun, you gotta relax."

Cassidy shot him a baleful look and was about to move away when Josh appeared in the enclosed alley that served as the restaurant's entrance. Cassidy quickly turned his back and pretended to be shopping the T-shirts hanging in the doorway of the souvenir store. Taking glimpses of Josh over his shoulder, Cassidy could see that his jaw was set, his entire aspect angry.

"Uh-oh," the cop whispered. "Our man's good and pissed."

His mind was on what was going on behind him, but once again Cassidy pretended interest in a T-shirt with a ribald message spelled out in glittering letters. A smiling Asian clerk moved forward to give him a sales pitch. "No, thanks. Just looking."

"Might have known," the cop muttered. "Only a squeeze can get a man that pissed."

"A woman?" Cassidy glanced at the restaurant across the street, then whipped his head back around. "Fuck!" he exclaimed with soft but potent emphasis.

"Excuse?" the smiling Asian said.

The cop laughed beneath his breath.

The woman who had emerged from the restaurant with Josh didn't take notice of her surroundings. She said something to him, then turned and started walking down the sidewalk. Josh seemed on the verge of following her, but reconsidered and only glared at her retreating back. His long, musician's fingers flexed into fists. Then, with the bearing of an affronted prophet, he stalked off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Cassidy tossed his cigarette into the gutter and bore down on the cop. "I thought you said he was alone."

"You're blowing my cover, man." He smiled and laid his hand on Cassidy's arm. Eyes smoldering, seductive grin in place, he cooed, "He was alone when he got here. He must've met her inside."

"You take him." Cassidy hitched his chin toward Josh, who had already reached the intersection with Royal Street.

"You going after the lady?"

"That's no lady," Cassidy said as he stepped off the curb and started across the street in pursuit. "That's Claire Laurent."

Chapter 23

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C
laire drew up short when she rounded the corner and saw Cassidy standing at the door of French Silk. It was the first time she'd seen him since the morning he'd stormed from her bedroom at Rosesharon. Seeing him so unexpectedly caused a catch in her breath. Her heart jumped. But she kept her expression impassive and tried to appear unruffled as she approached him. "Hello, Cassidy."

"Claire." He nodded. "Nice evening, isn't it?" He was perspiring and seemed to be suffering a shortness of breath more severe than her own.

"It's unseasonably warm. Autumn hasn't come to New Orleans yet."

He whisked off a bead of sweat that had made its way through his dense eyebrow and was trickling toward his eye. "Damn right. It's as hot and sticky as a cheap whore on Saturday night."

Claire's hackles rose. "I don't appreciate your crude analogy, Mr. Cassidy."

"Oh, we're back to Mr. Cassidy."

She wanted to slap the ingratiating grin off his face. Stiffly, she said, "I'm going in." Demonstrators were marching in front of the building. Their chorus of "Onward, Christian Soldiers" was slow and ponderous. Claire hoped they were growing tired and getting blisters on their feet.

Unnoticed, she slipped in through the side door. Before she could close it, Cassidy followed her inside. "What do you want?" she asked inhospitably. "I think we've exhausted the subject of the weather."

"I was in the neighborhood," he replied casually. "Thought I'd stop and say hi."

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, she noted. He hadn't yet caught his breath. Beneath his suit jacket, the front of his shirt was damp. "I appreciate the friendly gesture," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse—"

"Want to go for a bite of supper somewhere?"

"No, thank you. I ate earlier with Mama."

"Oh, you ate in tonight?"

"That's right."

"Then you were just out for an evening stroll?"

"I was busy at my desk all day. I needed to stretch my legs."

"Go any place in particular?"

"No. Just walked." She sidestepped him and tried to open the door for him. "I'm sorry, Cassidy, but I'd better get upstairs and check on Mama. I had to leave her al—"

Cassidy grabbed her shoulders and backed her up against the door. "You left her alone so you could keep your date with Joshua Wilde at the Gumbo Shop."

She had begun to smell a trap, but she was still astonished when the jaws of it sprang closed around her. She cast about for a logical explanation, but none came to her, so she responded with a counterattack.

"You were following me? Were the stories in the newspapers only decoys to throw me off guard?"

"You weren't under surveillance. We were tailing Josh. Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be his date."

"If you knew where I was and with whom, why the charade, Cassidy?"

"I took another route and sprinted back here. I wanted to see if you would level with me. As usual, you lied."

"Because I knew you wouldn't understand."

"You knew I wouldn't swallow any more of your lies." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "But give it a whirl, Claire. Try me. When did you first become acquainted with Joshua Wilde?"

"Tonight."

"You expect me to believe that bullshit?"

"I swear! I made several calls this afternoon until I located where he was staying. I asked him to meet me. He agreed to."

"Why?"

"Probably because he was curious to meet the scandalous owner of French Silk."

Cassidy shook his head. "I meant why did you want to meet with him? What could the two of you possibly have to talk about?"

"I offered him money."

"Money?" he repeated, taken aback.

"Yes. In exchange for his influence over Ariel. I asked him to try to persuade her to stop making allegations about me and my mother, to stop the picket lines, in general to call a truce to this whole mess. I told him I want to live my life and operate my business in peace, no matter what it costs me."

"You tried bribing him? Is that what you're telling me?"

"You're standing too close," Claire murmured. "I can't breathe."

Cassidy's eyes, which had been probing hers, blinked into awareness. He looked down, saw the white ridges of his knuckles where his fingers were still clenching her shoulders, saw that his body had hers tightly sandwiched between it and the door behind her, and backed away, lowering his hands to his sides.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're not off the hook yet. Keep talking."

"That's essentially it. I know that Jackson, and probably Ariel and Josh, too, took payola from other publications in exchange for immunity."

"How do you know that?"

"It only makes sense, doesn't it? Publications that should have been on that list—Jackson Wilde's hit list, as you called it—were noticeably absent. What about
Lickety Split
and
Hot Pants?
Why was a lingerie catalog a target for Jackson Wilde's pulpit and not those porno magazines? It has to be because they were making certain that Wilde would leave them alone." She looked at Cassidy with dawning insight. "You've probably thought of this yourself."

"I've got people checking on it, yeah. What did Josh have to say?"

"He didn't admit that his father took bribes, but he didn't deny it either."

"Why have you waited until now to think up this alternative solution? You could have paid off Jackson a year ago and spared yourself all this hardship. Did you ever approach him about it?"

"No. Only in the form of the offering you already know about."

"Then why now, Claire?"

"I'm sick of it, that's why," she exclaimed. "Wouldn't you be? The signs the protesters carry make me out to be a twentieth-century Jezebel. My mother reads them and becomes upset. The people who carry them harass my employees when they report for work. They impede my business by creating traffic jams that make it difficult for us to receive deliveries or ship out goods. One trucking company has already threatened to increase their charges because their drivers have complained about it so much."

She threw back her head as though imploring heaven for relief. "For months before Jackson Wilde was killed, he was a thorn in my side. And now, weeks after his death, he still is. I want the specter of him out of my life. I want to be rid of him once and for all."

She realized at once that her words had been ill chosen. She looked quickly at Cassidy, who was watching her closely. "And killing him didn't quite do it."

"That's not what I said."

"Have I been barking up the wrong tree, Claire? Was it you and Josh who were in cahoots and not him and his stepmother?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I met Joshua Wilde for the first time tonight."

"You're lying, Claire."

"I'm not!"

Cassidy snorted a laugh. He moved away a few steps, turned his head, and studied a stack of shipping crates before swinging his gaze back to her. "Give me a little credit. I know you significantly better now than I did a few weeks ago."

All the excitement and passion that had seized them during the thunderstorm at Rosesharon enveloped them now. Claire was the first to draw her stare away from his. "I'm not lying. I met with Joshua Wilde tonight and offered him a check in exchange for peace and quiet."

"Maybe. But what aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing."

"Claire!"

"Nothing!"

Cassidy swore beneath his breath. "Okay, I'll play along. How'd Josh react?"

"He was incensed."

"Turned you down?" he asked incredulously.

"Flat. He said he isn't an extortionist." She gave Cassidy a level look, lifting her chin a notch. "I believe him."

"Then you're in the minority, because I'm not buying any of this crap. You offered Josh a bribe and he turned it down. Is that what I'm supposed to believe?"