Erica Spindler - Cause for Alarm

A smile touched his mouth. Eight months of waiting was over. Six months of following each lead that surfaced, of frustration when the lead fizzled. Of wondering, worrying and longing-all were over.

John entered the shop. A waitress with a blond beehive hairdo sailed past him, snapping her gum loudly as she did. "Hey, dawlin', sit anywhere. I'll be right wit' you."

Like he would ever sit in a place like this, let alone choose to eat in one.

Well after lunchtime, the restaurant was nearly empty.

John crossed to the cash register and smiled at the girl who sat there, looking bored out of her mind. "Hi, is the owner or manager in?"

The girl looked him up and down, then nodded. "Buster!" she called, "somebody's here to see you."

A moment later a man in a filthy apron emerged from the kitchen. "I'm Buster Boudreaux. What can I do for you?"

"I'm an attorney with Reed, Reed and White." John handed him a business card. "I represent the estate of the late Jonathan Starr and am looking for his daughter, Julianna. Does she work here?"

The man studied the card a moment, then looked up at John, his expression openly curious. He was wondering, John had no doubt, if this situation might yield anything for him.

John smiled. "Ms. Starr has inherited a great deal of money, Mr. Boudreaux, and we're trying to locate her. There's a hefty finder's fee for anyone who provides information that leads to her location."

With a look of disgust, Buster pocketed the card. "She did work here," he said. "Up until four or five months ago. She up and quit without so much as a moment's notice."

"Do you know where she went?" John asked, excited. He was so close, he could all but smell her now.

"Sorry. She didn't leave a forwarding address. Hold on, let me ask one of my girls if they know. Lorena," he called, looking past John, "come here a minute, would you?"

John turned to the waitress who had sauntered over, the bleached blonde who had greeted him when he walked in.

"This guy's lookin' for Julianna. Says she's inherited a whole bunch of money. You have any idea where she went?"

"I don't know and don't care." The woman curled her brightly painted lips with derision. "Little princess thought she was better than everybody else. And there she was, no better than a whore, pregnant and with no man at all."

Anger was swift and white-hot. John narrowed his eyes, holding on to it, though it burned brightly in the pit of his gut. He couldn't allow this piece of human refuse to talk about his Julianna this way. He wouldn't allow it.

"I could give you the address she used when she worked here."

"Thank you. That would be helpful."

The man went in back and returned a moment later with a business card. He'd written Julianna's address on the back. "You did say there'd be a finder's fee in it if I helped you locate her?"

"Absolutely." John plucked the card from the man's fingers, then shifted his gaze to the blonde. "I'll see to it that you get a little something, too, sweetheart. Trust me."

The hour grew late; the French Quarter street gradually emptied. John stood in the shadows across from the hole-in-the-wall bar, watching the lights go off inside, one-byone.

Finally, his patience was rewarded. Two figures emerged from the bar, a man and the blonde from the po'boy shop, the one with the big mouth. The two said their goodbyes then parted, heading in different directions.

John stepped out of the darkness and started after the woman. He kept his distance, his footfalls silent.

She looked back only once, when he was almost upon her. She started to run then, but it was too late. He caught her on the back of the head and she flew forward, sprawling face first on the damp, filthy street. Where she belonged, he thought, circling her, disgusted.

While she lay there, sobbing into the muck, begging for her life, he kicked her, placing the blow dead to her ribs. The impact lifted her slightly off the ground. He delivered another blow, this one slightly lower.

He hadn't killed her. She would only wish he had.

"Next time," he said softly, "I suggest you show a little respect for your betters."

Richard sat across the café table from Julianna. Her head was bent as she studied the menu, and he took the opportunity to enjoy gazing at her. Lately he had been noticing things about his young assistant, nice things. The dewy freshness of her skin, the melodic quality of her laugh, the way she looked up at him, admiration and awe shining from her eyes.

He shook his head, thinking of Kate and the things she had said about Julianna. Manipulative? Secretive? He had spent a good bit of time with her, and he had found her to be sweet, forthright and completely genuine.

Richard took a sip of his iced tea, fighting back a grin. No doubt Kate would hotly deny it, but he suspected the green-eyed monster had something to do with her opinions of his assistant. Who could blame her? Julianna was young, attractive, unencumbered.

It made sense. Although Kate loved Emma and being a mother, it had been an adjustment. The 2:00 a.m. feedings. The fussy spells. The lack of personal freedom. She wasn't even back to work yet, and he couldn't remember the last time she had been down to her glass studio.

"I think I'm going to have the grilled chicken Caesar," Julianna said, closing the menu and lifting her gaze. She found his upon her and blushed. "Is something wrong?"

He couldn't remember the last time he had made a woman blush. He smiled, unreasonably pleased. "Not a thing."

"Then why-" Her blush deepened. "You're staring, Richard."

He propped his fist on his chin. "Am I?"

"You know you are! You're-" She made a sound of exasperation. "Stare all you want, it doesn't bother me."

He laughed and set aside his menu. He and Julianna had gotten into the habit of having lunch together every day he was free. It had proved a good time for them to go over his campaign calendar and discuss his progress.

"Have you talked to Leo this week?" she asked after the waiter had taken their drink orders and walked away.

Leo Bennett was a political consultant Richard had hired to manage his run for office. At this point, still a year and a half out, Leo was serving strictly as a consultant and leaving the actual day-to-day business of "Ryan for D.A." to Richard and Julianna. When they were six months out and all hell was about to break loose, he would step in to take a more active role in the campaign.

"He's out of town. He sent me a list of nonprofit groups he thought we should contact to offer my services as a speaker." He took the list out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She scanned the list, then refolded it and slipped it into her appointment book. "I'll get started this afternoon."

The waiter arrived with their drinks, then took their lunch orders. When he walked away, Richard turned his attention back to Julianna. "How was your weekend?"

She shrugged and added two packets of sugar to her tea. "Okay."

"Just okay?" he teased. "No hot date?"

"Not a one. How about you?"

"Another quiet weekend home with the baby."

She made a sympathetic sound. "Kate still won't leave her with a sitter?"

A week back, he had confided to Julianna his frustration with Kate over her refusal to leave Emma. He had been surprised at himself, breaching their professional relationship with something so personal, but Julianna had been great about it, offering her support and understanding.

Since then, he had confided a dozen other things to her, hopes for the campaign, worries over his parents' health, frustrations with a judge, his paralegal's bumbling incompetence. He had grown to look forward to their talks. Unlike Kate, Julianna always seemed to have time for him. She always understood.