“He’s employed, yes,” Casey said and laughed.
Lauren grinned. “And he has a damned good body.”
“He seems to be in shape.”
“Great face. Those eyes of his...”
Casey knew where this was going but smiled at her friend. “He is nice-looking.”
“And he likes you.”
“He’s protecting me,” she made clear.
“No, he likes you. You can see it in his eyes.”
Casey thought about the short time they’d spent together. Their chemistry and conversation. The way he was not only with her but with his cousin and little Annette. He was kind, with a protective streak a mile wide. She knew it was fast, but she trusted what her feelings were telling her. “And I like him.”
“Hmmm…” Lauren mused. “He’s probably honorable and ethical and all that.”
“I imagine he has some good qualities.” Casey chuckled.
“Men like that don’t come around every day, Casey,” Lauren said, a seriousness replacing the levity of their conversation. “And you never just go out, which means the last time you were with someone was when you were seeing Sam Tourneau. He was nice enough, employed, good-looking...”
“And he only loved football.” Casey remembered the sting of that breakup. “I like football. But I also enjoy music and my friends and...books and art and things besides sports. But we’re still friends.”
“Right. And he was a decent guy. But you don’t go out a lot. I think this guy is cool, and you should get something going.”
“He lives in Virginia or somewhere in that area,” Casey reminded Lauren.
“Okay. So maybe he goes away in a bit. Seize the moment, my friend. I know what you should do if you worry about where things might go.” Lauren’s eyes widened. “Go mad for a few days. Don’t let it get awkward. He’s an agent. A guy on the move. So, premeditated sex.”
“What?” Casey almost choked on her laughter.
“Just agree to sex, sex, and nothing but sex.” Lauren giggled.
“I think you’re mixing up your courtyard dramas.” Casey rolled her eyes.
“I’m just talking about being upfront and honest. You like him. He likes you. Birds do it, bees do it... Have a thing while he’s here.”
“Oh, Lauren.”
Casey hadn’t realized Jared was standing nearby until she heard him laugh. “I like it! That may be my line. If Lauren would just be a good wing woman, I may try it on the hot girl playing the washboard at Pete’s one of these days. Premeditated sex.”
Casey groaned and was grateful when the shop door opened. A few members from a local retirees’ club came in. They chatted, and then one turned to Jared and asked, “Where’s our song?”
“Your song? Oh, you want your song,” Jared said. He looked at Casey and Lauren. “Ready, ladies? This is one of our finest harmonies.”
Casey winced inwardly. Their favorite song was from Blue Oyster Cult. Don’t Fear the Reaper.
They did do excellent harmony with it.
But Casey didn’t get a chance to answer. Jared had already gotten his guitar and started strumming. She and Lauren were behind the counter. Lauren flung an arm around Casey’s shoulders and smiled, and they began the song.
Casey hoped Lena Marceau would not pick this time to come by.
Luckily, she didn’t see the ghost. Ryder, however, returned at the end of the tune, and while he had a strange expression on his face, he clapped along with the retirees. The group chatted and talked, and a couple of their members bought a few pieces.
The store emptied, and Ryder looked at them, moving his gaze from one to the other.
“Hm, do you people have a lunch or dinner break? Or whatever meal it is one has in the afternoon?”
“Oh, yeah, we cover for one another,” Lauren said. “Why don’t you and Casey go on out and get something? I had a big breakfast.”
“I didn’t,” Jared said and then gulped as Lauren nudged him in the ribcage.
“But I’m not hungry yet,” he added quickly. “You two go. And get back. Then, we’ll go.”
“Okay with you?” Ryder asked Casey.
“Sure.”
“She has something to ask you. Or suggest,” Lauren said.
Casey cast Lauren a scathing glare. Lauren smiled.
They started out of the store, and Ryder asked, “What would you like? We’re in the French Quarter. Most places are wonderful.”
“I’m not... I don’t care. I’m not that hungry. I’m actually a little on edge.” She looked at him searchingly. “Have you seen Lena?”
He shook his head. “Not today. I believe she’ll find us by tonight. We know she’s been to the house. She sees Annette that way.”
“Of course,” Casey murmured.
“So, what did you want to ask or suggest?” He looked at her with concern.
She shook her head. “That was just Lauren being silly.”
“She’s talented. There are wonderful artists working all over this city. It’s a magnet for creative types, I think. But Lauren’s work has something special in it. Heart. She has a true feel for everything unique and wonderful about this city.”
“Did you spend a lot of time here?”
“I did. Growing up. I was born in Gretna. Anyway, food. I am hungry.”
“Okay. Wherever. What about your call? The one you left the store to take.”
“Ah, that.” He smiled tightly. “That was my ticket into serious delving. The medical examiner from Mississippi called.” He winced. “I was there for the exhumation, and I have to say, I think I’m going to be cremated from the get-go. William Marley was embalmed, and the work was good. So, he decayed in the heat, but...there were remains. Enough for the M.E. to discover there had been a massive dose of cocaine in his system. He was well-known and had never been a drug user in life. At this point, the M.E. couldn’t find the delivery system, but he’s convinced the heart attack was brought on by the cocaine.”
“So, he was murdered.”
“Yes, and Jackson is going through the proper channels to see that the investigation into Lena’s death is reopened with the FBI. With me heading up the investigation.”
“I’m happy for you. But where do you go from here?”
“I have a friend locally who was one of the detectives on the original case. I’m going to bring him back in. And after Stephanie’s meeting tomorrow, I’m going to go after the board of directors one by one. Nobody else benefits from these deaths. I wish it was as easy as Lauren’s suggestion that we just arrest them all, or that Lena could just appear in front of a judge and demand they all stand trial. But we need evidence.”
“How did he get into the house—whoever the man in all the black clothing was?” Casey asked.
“Whoever got in knew the security code for the gate and the front door. Either that, or Gail Reeves let him in. But she was at her book club meeting. Several people vouched for that. Muriel’s.”
“Pardon?”
“For lunch. Muriel’s, Jackson Square. I’ve always loved it.”
“Fine with me.”