“I was.”
“I can’t—”
“You must.”
She sat back, shaking her head and biting her lip. Then she bowed her head slightly.
“Please,” he said.
Her head still lowered, she nodded. She looked up and noted, “You still have crawfish on your plate.”
“I’ll take care of that,” he told her. “You’re leaving lasagna,” he added.
“I’ll take care of that,” she said.
He smiled, and they finished their food.
He paid the tab, and they both assured Felice that the food had been beyond wonderful. And that they’d be back. He was afraid during the drive, and even as he waited for Casey to pack up a few things, that she would protest again.
But she didn’t. She was silent during the trip to the Marceau house, and he didn’t try to make idle conversation. At the mansion, he used the remote to open the gates and parked in the drive at the side of the house.
Stephanie was on the steps, chatting with Arnold Benson, one of the old friends Ryder had hired to watch the house. Little two-year-old Annette was in her arms. Stephanie was frowning, but the baby called out, “Hi!” and stretched out her arms.
“I’ll explain,” Ryder said briefly as he took Casey’s small case and walked to the door. He was ready to take Annette from Stephanie, certain that she was reaching for him.
She wasn’t.
Her outstretched arms were for Casey.
“Um, sorry. Hi. May I?” Casey asked Stephanie.
Stephanie didn’t answer. She let Annette go.
The child was truly adorable. Like her mother had been, she was blonde. Little ringlets of a sunshine color framed her face. Her eyes were powder blue. Annette was, however, a typical two-year-old, wanting what she wanted.
“She knows you. She likes you,” Stephanie said.
“Lena had her in the shop a few times. I set her up with a little tea set, and we played This Little Piggy Went to Market and a few other games,” Casey explained. She held the baby and smiled as Annette giggled, said something in her baby language, and then showed Casey her nose.
Arnold Benson cleared his throat. Ryder quickly apologized and introduced him.
“An old friend. Arnold Benson was with the field office here for years. Arnie, Casey, Casey, Arnie.”
Arnie smiled at Casey. Casey smiled back. Ryder figured she approved of his choice for a guard.
Arnie had shaved his head and looked as if he were retired from the World Wrestling Federation rather than the FBI.
“Nice to meet you,” Casey said.
“Pleasure. So, is this lovely lady what really brought you back to NOLA?” Arnie asked Ryder.
“Casey is a friend. And I’ve been honest with you, Arnie. You know what brought me back.”
“Yeah,” Arnie said softly, glancing at Stephanie. “I just came out to do a grounds check. I have a little nook in the library where I can see more than a satellite can. Ryder, you did one hell of a job getting cameras installed in this place. I almost feel like a cheat, taking your money. I spend most of the day just watching the screens, and this lovely lady over here”—he paused to indicate Stephanie—“keeps me fed way better than I tend to feed myself.”
“I’ve been in the nook and checked all the screens myself,” Ryder said. “It is a pretty good setup, if I do say so.”
“It’s fine for you to say so. And also fine that you keep paying me,” Arnie said lightly.
“Not a problem,” Ryder assured him. “Let’s get on in, shall we?”
“I’m just doing my walk-around,” Arnie said.
“Thanks,” Ryder told him.
“After that, you can find me in my nook.”
They went into the house.
Stephanie looked at Casey. “You have an overnight bag. Are you staying here?”
“With your permission, of course. Ryder suggested it made sense.”
Stephanie glanced at Ryder but then smiled at Casey. “You really did know my sister.”
“I did know her, yes. Not well. But she came to the shop several times. I wouldn’t have lied to you.”
“No one can lie to a two-year-old and get away with it,” Stephanie said lightly. “And, speaking of the two-year-old, it’s late. I’m going to get her to bed.” Stephanie hesitated and glanced at Casey. “If he brought you here...well, I know my cousin. He’s vetted you, and there’s a good reason you’re here, especially since I’m sure you have your own home.”
Casey nodded.
“Okay then, go on up the grand staircase. It’s a beautiful house, and I can’t tell you how much I hate it. The strangest thing is...neither Anthony nor Lena was into money or material things. And here I am. But whoever did this isn’t going to win.” She dropped her chin, eyes downcast. “I’m a coward, so I’d consider taking Annette and running, but I’m afraid we’d be hunted down. Annette and I must be here. Especially until...” Her voice trailed, and she turned to Ryder.
“Put the baby to bed,” he told her. “We’ll talk after.”
“I have her crib in my room,” Stephanie said. “Right next to my bed.”
“Then we’ll talk in the morning,” Ryder said.
Stephanie nodded and took Annette from Casey.
“Make yourself at home, Casey. Please. The kitchen is wide open. Gail Reeves lives on the property, but she has the old carriage house out back.” Stephanie paused. “I don’t even let Gail in anymore until she calls and tells me she’s ready to come over. Anyway, sorry, I’m talking away. And this kid needs to go down for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She turned and started for the stairs, but then turned back and looked at Casey.
“You’ve seen my sister, right? Her spirit or...ghost?”
“I—yes,” Casey said.
“And now I’ve seen her, too, Stephanie,” Ryder said. “We are going to solve Lena’s murder.”
Stephanie smiled. “I know you will. Just do so quickly, please. Okay? I’m going nuts here.”
This time, she continued up the stairs.
Ryder looked at Casey.
“Come on up. I’ll give you the Blue Room. Goes with your eyes.” He winked.
“Great. I’m all into matching,” Casey said dryly.
He carried her bag and led the way. The Blue Room was in the west wing, across from another guest room—the Gold Room in his case. All the rooms were named for colors except for the master suite—which had a plaque on it that said: Master Suite.
No one was in it now. Stephanie wouldn’t sleep where her sister had died.
But Stephanie was in the baby’s room, also in the west wing.
He liked being near those he was watching over.
Even with a trusted guard on duty.
Even with the elaborate system he’d installed.
“Blue Room,” he said, opening the door and leading Casey in. The carpet and drapes were navy blue, the bed covering a softer pale blue.
“It is—blue,” she said.
“I think it’s probably comfortable—”
“Oh, no. It’s lovely. I was just noting that it is well, blue.”