Waters Run Deep Page 17

  But maybe.

  “Spencer’s safe,” Annie said, taking another sip of the lemonade Picou had made. Spencer played in the shade of a broad-limbed oak, kicking the new ball she’d bought him a few hours earlier. They had gone into Bayou Bridge to buy a present for his cousin Braden, but Annie had learned the hard way children accustomed to getting whatever they want often demanded whatever they wanted. Loudly. The ball had been a compromise—one she knew she shouldn’t have made. But when people turned, stared and tsked, it kicked a gal into survival mode.

  Spencer had gotten the stupid ball no matter what the damned parenting books had warned. The smug family psychologists who’d penned them hadn’t faced the power of Spencer Keene and his overly dramatic tantrums.

  Annie, who had once faced the snub-nosed end of a loaded pistol and not even broken a sweat, had been beaten down by a five-year-old.

  “Well, he’s safe for now, but what if that person had succeeded the other night? Look at Annie’s face. That could have been my birdie.” Tawny took another swig from her Bud Light and swiped her arm across her mouth.

  Both women turned toward Annie and her fading bruise. “I got this because I wanted some water. That person wasn’t trying to hurt Spencer. Just leave that note.”

  Tawny didn’t look convinced and Annie couldn’t blame her. The blood, ambulance and rotting chicken carcass seemed to foreshadow what could happen if the potential kidnapper wasn’t nabbed soon.

  Tawny adjusted her nearly nonexistent bikini top and said, “What kind of freak leaves dead birds and chicken bones all over the place?”

  “Mambos,” Picou said, entering the patio and setting a plate of fruit on the glass-topped table. “Voodoo priests and priestesses often use chicken blood in their prophecies.”

  “Seriously?” Jane asked, tying her bikini top behind her neck and pulling on a light cotton cover-up. “Sounds like some churches I’ve been to.”

  Picou launched into a lecture on ancient voodoo culture and its place in the modern world. Annie listened with one ear as she mulled over a few tidbits she’d heard over the course of the afternoon. It might not be much, but it had given credence to Jimmy’s idea Jane didn’t like Tawny as much as the actress thought she did.

  Nothing about Jane seemed significant to the case until she had started ribbing Tawny about Carter, a bar and a mixed-up drink order.

  Tawny had laughed about Carter ditching Jane at the bar to do the limbo with her on the dance floor, but Annie had sensed an edge to Jane’s words. Oh, she’d laughed, but not with her eyes. Annie knew how to connect dots and tried to put together a picture of what had happened.

  She guessed Jane had been snaked. Tawny had been unemployed and passed over for more roles than she cared to mention, but grabbed the brass ring when she’d seduced Carter away from where Jane had him pinned at the bar. Then Jane had watched from the bar, nursing her own drink, as the blonde bombshell regaled Carter with her Arkansas accent, baby-blue eyes and double Ds. Two months later, Tawny was in production for a sitcom on Fox and wearing a five-carat diamond. Jane had ended up in the shower selling feminine-hygiene wash in a commercial.

  Annie tapped a finger on the lip of the glass, wondering if man stealing was enough motivation to send threats and leave dead birds all over the place. She briefly touched the bruise covering her cheek and eye and winced. Then she thought about the movie with the boiled rabbit. Yeah, crazy people used whatever they could to exact revenge.

  She hated sitting by doing nothing. She felt useless and wanted to be in on the investigation, doing something more active than playing nanny. But Ace hadn’t been happy with the developments, especially the stolen gun, and had insisted she stay put.

  Spencer sprinted over to the patio. “Hey, guys, look at what I can do.”

  He backed up, held the ball in front of him and kicked it. The line drive went right toward Jane’s upturned nose.

  “Son of a bitch!” Jane screamed, cupping her hand over her nose as blood spurted between her fingers.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Tawny cried, grabbing a napkin from beneath her beer and thrusting it at her friend. “Here.”

  “Great,” Jane said, grabbing the napkin and holding it over her nose. Blood dripped over her fingers. Annie extracted several ice cubes from her glass, wrapped them in a napkin and handed it to the woman, who took it and replaced the blood-soaked one Tawny had given her.

  “I’m sorry,” Spencer said, his face twisting into tearful grimace. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Well, you should be,” Jane hissed. “Look what you did to my nose.”

  She removed the tissue, revealing a throbbing, Rudolph-worthy nose. Tears unwillingly slid down her checks, mingling with the blood still trickling from her nostrils. Annie couldn’t stop the Brady Bunch episode where Marsha got hammered with the football from playing in her mind. Jane’s sorta looked like Marsha’s…except real.

  “He said he didn’t mean it,” Tawny said, reaching out and gathering her son into her arms. “It’s okay, birdie. You didn’t mean it.”

  “Of course it’s okay. Nothing wrong with him ruining my nose. I only have to shoot two scenes tomorrow,” Jane said, rising and shoving the chair in which she’d spent the past few hours across the patio. “Spencer can do no wrong. You coddle him and let him get away with everything. He’s a spoiled brat and you’re going to regret it someday!”

  Jane stalked toward the front of the house, passing Picou who’d gone inside to replenish the lemonade. The older woman spun and took in a sobbing Spencer, a bloody napkin and the ensuing squeal of tires. “What the—”

  “An accident,” Annie said.

  “She’s such a drama queen,” Tawny huffed, cradling her son and dropping kisses atop his sweaty head. “She pretends to like Spencer to get on my good side.”

  Something prickled on Annie’s neck. “She doesn’t like Spencer?”

  “She doesn’t like any kids. Thank goodness she can’t have any of her own. They’d be the saddest things ever.”

  “Can’t have any?” Annie leaned forward. “As in physically can’t have any?”

  “Is there another way to have them?” Tawny asked with a roll of her eyes. “Well, I guess people can adopt, but Jane had a hysterectomy when she was in her early twenties. Something about an abortion that went bad. Or maybe it was a tubal pregnancy. I’m not sure because it happened before I knew her. Guess she forgot to take her hormones today because she’s in full-on bitch mode.”

  Annie stood. Jane McEvoy had officially become a person of interest. “Did you tell the detectives investigating the case?”

  Tawny frowned. “Why? What does her not having periods have to do with what’s going on with Spencer?”

  Annie glanced at Picou. The older woman’s brow furrowed and she looked contemplative. She looked back at Tawny who looked as she always did. Clueless. “Well, maybe not, but who knows what drives people?”

  Spencer’s sobs subsided into a sniffle as Picou sank down into the cushioned chair Jane had abandoned. The older woman tapped her chin. “Was Jane in California when you received the threats?”

  “Yes,” Tawny and Annie said in unison.

  Picou nodded. “And the threats didn’t start here until Spencer got here. Whoever’s making those threats is here. In Louisiana. So anyone who was in California who is now in Louisiana is a suspect.”

  Tawny shook her head. “There’s no way the nutcase is Jane. I know Jane. She was my roommate for three years, not to mention my maid of honor and Spencer’s godmother. She’s high-maintenance and sometimes a pain in the ass, but she’s not capable of doing something so mean.”

  Annie wasn’t so sure. She held no idealized notion of friendship, maybe because she hadn’t had many true friends, but she’d seen cases where the most trusted turned out to be crooked and capable of atrocity. Perhaps Jane had nursed the anger against Tawny until it turned into something akin to hatred, something that had driven her to act criminally. “Still, you n
eed to mention this to Picou’s son. Or that FBI guy.”

  Picou nodded. “I sensed anxiety around that woman. Her aura is yellow. Something’s going on in her life that’s displeasing.”

  Tawny shrugged. “It doesn’t have to do with me or Spencer. It has to do with Mick. I don’t feel comfortable telling on her. Her medical history is none of anyone’s business. In fact, I shouldn’t have told you.”

  Tawny wasn’t going to throw a friend under the bus. Annie knew she could tell Nate, but Tawny needed to see withholding information held up investigations, including the one Annie did for Sterling Investigations. “Mrs. Keene, um, Tawny, I respect your loyalty. It’s an admirable trait in a friend, but Spencer is more important, don’t you think?”

  The woman looked down at the boy resting his head on her stomach. The child wasn’t asleep, but he was soaking in his mother’s love. “Yeah. He’s the most important thing in my life.”

  And that was why he was being used against her.

  Picou cleared her throat. “So maybe it wouldn’t hurt to mention it to Nate. He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t let anything leak out about Jane that wasn’t necessary.”

  Tawny nodded. “Okay. I’ll say something to him when I see him. He said he’d come by and give us a briefing on what they’ve found so far. Carter insisted.”

  Picou nodded. “Sensible.”

  Tawny chuckled. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before.”

  Annie needed some time to meet with Nate herself. “I haven’t had a day off, Tawny, and I know—”

  “You can take tomorrow off. I’m taking Spence to the water park and Brick will come with me.” She feathered her son’s hair.

  “Do I have to wear my floaties?” Spencer asked, his voice muffled by the cushions. He lay flat on his mother in sweet contentment.

  “No, it’s not a pool. Just fun things to splash in.”

  Annie rose and stretched, waggling a hand toward Spencer. “Let’s go up and set your things out before we have supper. Miss Lucille’s back from visiting her family and Picou told me she made her famous gumbo for supper. I can’t wait to try it.” And hopefully have time to call Ace and let him know this new development. They needed better background on Jane and Annie needed to get inside the woman’s hotel room and search it. But how?

  Hmm. Maybe a shoulder to cry on…or rather rant on. Maybe she’d take some gumbo as a peace offering. The sooner the better. Like that very night.

  * * *

  NATE STARED AT THE preliminary lab report and frowned. Nothing.

  That’s all he’d gotten with this case. A big fat zero.

  “It’s time to get tough with these assholes,” Wynn said, plucking a well-chewed toothpick from his mouth and tossing it in the metal trash can.

  “We don’t know what assholes to get tough with. No leads.”

  “Bullshit. There’s something, somewhere, and we’ve been too dumb to find it. Or distracted.”

  Nate felt himself bristle. Yeah, he’d been distracted but no more so than any other case. Big gray eyes flitted into his mind. He loved the way her eyes looked dilated with pleasure.

  Wynn slapped a file on top of several others, jarring him from his musings. Maybe Wynn was right. Maybe Nate couldn’t handle the investigation properly because he was in lust with the nanny.

  “Maybe, but it’s hard to get excited over a decaying rotisserie chicken with no prints, no trace evidence, nothing. Annie didn’t see anything before she got knocked out except a blur. So did you pick up knowledge on how to identify a printless, clean-as-a-whistle blur when I wasn’t looking?”

  Wynn tented his fingers and studied him. “Are you banging this nanny?”

  Nate tossed the report on his recently cleaned-off desk. “That’s none of your business.”

  “She’s a suspect. A nice piece of ass, I’ll give you that, and kudos for actually pulling yourself away from those boxes in your house, but she could be in on this.”

  “So she gave herself a concussion to cover up her involvement?”

  His partner shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things.”

  Nate shook his head. “No, she’s not in on this.”

  Wynn played with the pencil cup on his desk. “Fine. Make sure you don’t let getting tail color your judgment.”

  “I’ve never allowed a woman to color my judgment. Annie’s not making these threats, and she’s not a piece of ass. She’s—” He stopped because he wasn’t sure what she was.

  Wynn glanced up. “Look. No problem. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than you and the nanny. We need to bust something loose, so I say we head over to that movie set and scare something up.”

  “With who?”

  “Let’s start with Mick. I’ve heard from too many people that the creep has the hots for Tawny. I say let’s bring him down here. Make him jumpy. He’s such an arrogant asshole, he’s bound to give us reason.”

  Nate shrugged. “Worth a try. But first, we need to go by the Quick Mart and check out the alibi for our perp in that robbery case. If it doesn’t check out, I’ll give Harvey the green light to charge him so we can put that case away. Then Keene asked for a briefing.”

  Wynn stood. “Since when did you start kissing people’s asses, Dufrene? You running for office next year?”

  No. He wanted to check on Annie, and running down the leads with Keene was an excuse to see her. God, he really was starting to act like a pathetic schoolboy. Annie didn’t need him to take care of her. She was more than capable of taking care of herself even if someone had knocked her black-and-blue and taken her gun… So maybe not. Maybe Annie needed him, if only a little bit.

  He hadn’t reported her gun stolen because he didn’t want to blow her cover. No need for a nanny to tote a gun. If she stayed undercover, she stayed safe. She’d been an accidental target the other night. An incidental for someone who hadn’t wanted to be discovered.

  He hoped the stolen gun didn’t come back to haunt him.

  Nate grabbed his own piece from the desk drawer and told Wynn explicitly how he could kiss his own derrierre. The words weren’t fit for polite society, but the bull pen had never offered anything remotely in the way of polite conversation.

  * * *

  ANNIE LADLED GUMBO into a plastic storage container and sealed it. She’d take Jane dinner while doing some active investigating. Spencer was in his jammies, happily making Play-Doh food with the gift that was supposed to be mailed to his cousin in Arkansas the next morning. But Annie didn’t care that poor Braden wouldn’t get his gift. Tawny and Carter were pretending to eat the food and looking much more agreeable to one another—and Annie was free for the evening.

  “You think that’s going to make her feel better about her nose?” Picou asked, when she pushed through the swinging door and caught Annie filching the gumbo.

  She shrugged. “It was the best stuff I’ve ever tasted. Gotta do something for her.”

  “Why are you being nice to her?”

  Annie turned around and set the container in a plastic bag along with several pieces of French bread and a slice of Lucille’s famous buttermilk pie. “Because she was nice to me. Invited me for drinks several nights ago, and I ended up getting a headache and bailing on her after only an hour. I feel bad, I guess.”

  “Kinship?” Picou asked, folding some napkins and grabbing a bottle of tea. She placed them in the bag beside the gumbo.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s a single gal. Doesn’t seem to have a family or many close friends, working for the Keene family.”

  Annie cocked her head. “Do I seem pathetic to you?”

  Picou’s words had slammed her. She knew her life wasn’t ideal. Did the older woman have to point that out?

  “Not at all. I merely see similarities. Not physically, of course, but your aura is often bright yellow as if you’re deeply stressed or insecure. Other times it’s brown as if you are guarding yourself.”

  Annie almost snorted. “Well, th
anks, but I’m not unhappy with my life.”

  The older woman arched a brow.

  “Okay, so I’m not exactly jumping up and down thrilled with it, but I’m trying to get there. Maybe that includes doing something nice for someone.” Or maybe it was snooping around so she could get this case solved and get her tail back to L.A. But even as she thought it, she knew she wasn’t sure about going back. Part of her wanted to stay here under the lacy Spanish moss brushing the green grass. Under the Louisiana stars with the infernal mosquitos and unbearable heat. With Nate. With Picou. With an unnamed future child with brown eyes and corkscrew curls.

  She was delusional. She shook her head and swallowed the craziness with a swig of water.

  Picou didn’t say anything. Instead she picked up a note pad. “I called Della today.”

  Annie looked up. “You did?”

  “Nate has been so preoccupied. He was supposed to call her again today, but didn’t have time. I know he’s busy and that this is about Spencer, but I just want to hold my little girl.”

  “What did you say? How did she take it?”

  “I pretended to be a salesperson.” The older woman smiled. “I had to at least hear her voice. She sounded so different. She has that bayou accent.”

  Annie watched as Picou scratched loops across the paper. She tied the handles of the plastic bag together and placed it in a larger handled paper bag. “She is from down there.”

  Picou looked up. “I think she knew it was me. She acted like she didn’t know, but there was something fearful in her voice. She’s scared of me.”

  Annie shook her head. “No, but her world has been turned upside down. You will have to give her time. That’s what Nate’s trying to do. Give her a little space.”

  “But I need to see her. Touch her.” Picou dropped the pen and stared out at the night. It was nearly eight o’clock. The sun had run away leaving a blanket of darkness behind.