Erica Spindler - Killer Takes All

“I did?”

“Didn’t you?”

He smiled and closed the door behind him. “I suppose I did. Though I can’t remember why. What’s that?”

He motioned at the postcard, still in her hands. “An advertisement,” she said, holding it up.

He crossed to her. Took the card. She watched him as he studied it, looking for unease, surprise or the moment he made the connection.

It didn’t come. Had she ever told him the name of Pogo’s gallery?

“I’m not so crazy about nonobjective art. It just doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“The gallery’s name caught my attention. Not the art.” At his blank expression, she added, “Gallery 124. That’s where Pogo exhibited.”

“Small world.”

That small?

Was he a consummate actor? Or really in the dark?

“You’re on their mailing list. Did you buy something there?”

“Not that I remember.” He tossed the postcard on the desk. “Did you sleep well?”

“Pardon?”

He smiled, the curving of his lips boyish. And naughty. “It was your first night with us. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Fine.” She took a small step backward, suddenly uncomfortable. “Everything was fine.”

He caught her hands. “Don’t run away.”

“I’m not running. Just-”

He kissed her.

She made a sound of surprise and pushed him away. “Leo, don’t.”

“Sorry.” He looked almost comically disappointed. “And here I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Have you?”

“You couldn’t tell?”

“No.”

“I’d like to do it again.” His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. “But I won’t…if you object?”

She hesitated a moment too long and he kissed her again.

The office door opened. “Leo? Clark and I-”

At Kay’s voice, Stacy sprang away from Leo. Mortified. So embarrassed, in fact, she wished she could crawl under the man’s desk and hide.

“Sorry,” Kay said stiffly, “we didn’t know you were busy. We were looking for Alice.”

“I was with her not thirty minutes ago,” Stacy said, clearing her throat. “At Café Noir.”

Kay frowned, and Stacy added, “We ran into each other. She said Clark was sick this morning. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

The Nobles looked at him. Obviously that information had been news to them.

He laid a hand on his stomach. “I ate fish last night. I’m thinking it wasn’t fresh. You have to be so careful with seafood.”

“You might ask Mrs. Maitlin if she’s seen her,” Stacy offered.

“We will,” Kay said. “Thank you.”

The pair left the office, purposefully snapping the door shut behind them.

“She doesn’t care, you know,” he said softly. “We’re not married anymore.”

Stacy looked at Leo, cheeks hot. “She looked at me like I was an adulterer.”

Leo laughed. “She didn’t.”

“It was my own guilty conscience, then.”

“I told you, you have nothing to feel guilty about. I kissed you. Besides, I’m a free agent.”

She thought of the way Leo and Kay acted toward each other, the affectionate way they teased, the obvious respect.

Like a married couple. A couple very much in love.

“I’m interested in you, Stacy.”

She didn’t respond, and he gathered her hands in his. “I get the feeling you could be interested, too. Am I right?”

He attempted to draw her back into his arms; she resisted. “Can I ask you something, Leo?”

“Ask away.”

“What happened to you and Kay? It’s obvious you care for each other.”

He shrugged. “We’re too different…we grew apart. I don’t know, maybe we lost the spark that kept us working at it.”

“How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.” He laughed. “Kay hung in there longer than most would have.”

When they stopped laughing, so did Alice.

“Kay and I are like Wonderland. Order and chaos. The sane and insane. The insanity finally overwhelmed her.”

She had wanted the divorce. He had driven her crazy.

He still loved his wife, Stacy realized.

She slipped her hands from his. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“There’s no reason we can’t be together.”

“I think there is, Leo. I’m not ready. And I don’t think you are, either.”

When he opened his mouth as if to argue, she held up a hand, stopping him. “Please, Leo. Just leave it alone.”

“For the moment, okay. But I won’t promise to stay away forever.”

Stacy backed toward the door, grasped the handle, turned and walked through.

And ran smack into Troy.

He put a hand on her elbow to steady her. “Whoa. Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Hey, Troy.” Flustered, she took a step back. “Sorry, mind’s elsewhere.”

“No problemo. Catch you later.”

It wasn’t until much later that she wondered why Troy had been right outside Leo’s door. And if he had been eavesdropping.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Midnight

Stacy stood at her bedroom window. Moonlight illuminated the side garden and yard. The storm of two nights ago had left everything lush and green.

She couldn’t sleep. She had tossed and turned for the last hour, then had given up. It wasn’t the bed. Or the pillow.

It was a feeling of unease. Of not belonging. Here, in this house. In this city, the UNO graduate program.

In her own skin.

She frowned. How had she gotten herself to this place? She had come to New Orleans for a fresh start. To change her life for the better.

Now look at her. Embroiled in a murder investigation. A target in a killer’s twisted game. She had been attacked. Her home broken into, a cat’s bloody head left as a gift. A friend had been murdered; she had found the body. She was on the verge of flunking out of graduate school.

And her boss had made a pass at her.

Which was when she thought of Spencer. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d called to tell her about Pogo. At first she’d assumed him busy with the investigation. Now she wondered if he had shut her out.

She would have done the same. Back when she had been a cop.

What was keeping her here? She missed Jane. And little Apple Annie, growing and changing every day. Her life was unarguably more screwed up now than it had been in Dallas. She could resign from the graduate program, pack her stuff and head home.

Tuck tail and run? Leave Cassie’s death unsolved and Leo and his family unprotected?

The last affected her like a kick to the gut. She was not the Noble family protector. It wasn’t her job. It was the NOPD’s and Malone’s.

Damn it. Then why did she feel responsible for them? And for finding Cassie’s killer? Why did she always feel like she had to take care of the whole friggin’ world?

Because that day at the lake, she hadn’t taken care of Jane.

The memory of that day came rushing back, as clear as if it had been yesterday instead of almost twenty years ago. The sounds of Jane’s screams. Of her own. The frigid water as Stacy had launched herself in. The blood. Later the way her parents had looked at Stacy. Accusingly. Disappointed.

She had been seventeen, Jane fifteen. She should have taken better care of her. She should have been more responsible. It had been her fault it happened.

No, damn it. Stacy shook her head as if for emphasis, as if to convince herself. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been a kid that day at the lake. Jane didn’t blame her; why should she blame herself?

A movement in the garden below drew her gaze. A man, she realized. Heading toward the guest house.