They were about a block or so away after having ambled somewhat aimlessly.
Casey had always loved Muriel’s, too. The place was rumored to have several resident ghosts, mostly past owners of the property. There had been a building at the location soon after the city was founded, La Nouvelle Orleans. The great mansion that had stood on the spot had been horribly damaged in the great fire that swept the city in 1788, though it had been rebuilt. The property was still prime real estate—caddy-corner from Jackson Square.
“You know they have séance rooms,” Ryder said dryly.
“And they really have seances.” She smiled.
They were only interested in eating today, and a friendly hostess quickly gave them a table.
They were served iced tea while their entrees were prepared. As they waited, Ryder leaned close and said, “I really am sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing. I understand.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“I was wrong about you.”
“I guess I was wrong about you also. Too bad you don’t live here. At some point, I could have taken you to see some amazing bands. Jared is friends with just about every musician in the city.”
“Maybe I’ll stick around long enough for you to take me out.”
She grinned. “Are you picking up our late lunch or early dinner?” she asked.
“I am.”
“Okay, then. I’ll take you out.”
“Sounds good. We’ll be almost like a couple.”
He was still close, and she could see a light in his eyes, both teasing and serious. “I was really wrong. I like you and admire you,” he said softly.
“Um—thank you.”
He leaned back, smiling. “You could tell me how much you like and admire me, too.”
She laughed softly. “I do like and admire you, even knowing what an ass you can be. But that’s okay. I understand.” She took a sip of her tea.
“So,” Casey murmured awkwardly, “what’s your life like when you’re not chasing down devious killers?”
“The Krewe is an amazing unit. According to the papers that define us, we go in when there are unusual aspects to a case. Adam and Jackson have drawn together an incredible group that has gotten larger over the years. We have our own separate headquarters, an array of forensic investigators, and some of the best computer forensic people to be found.”
“Your life is work?”
He shrugged. “A lot of us are friends. We know and understand each other. We go to ballgames. Adam owns a non-profit theater. Several spouses and significant others actually work there. We see lots of wonderful shows. We go to concerts, movies...and we have a Friday night poker game for whoever shows up.”
“Nice. I thought you were going to say you worked all the time.”
“I do work a lot. But you work all the time, too.”
“Work is fun. Lauren is an amazing artist, and I help with her projects. And we have a great time with Jared. He has some original work, and Lauren and I are going to help out when he records.”
“Are those two together?”
“No. They’re just best friends. We all are. We decided in college that we’d never screw it all up by dating each other.”
“So none of you is married or about to be married?” He leaned in closer.
“Are you?” she volleyed back.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“What?”
It was his turn to back off. Then he shrugged. “I came close. But...yeah. Work. I should say it was never going to work. She’s a good woman. We’re still casual friends. But she was...”
“Clingy?” Casey suggested as he looked for a word.
“Yeah. I’m a decent guy. If I were going to do something, I’d just say it. But she was suspicious every time I got a call in the night, and I don’t believe in a life without trust.”
“I’m with you there. I never came close to marriage. I guess I tend to back off quickly, and Lauren complains I don’t give things a chance. But there needs to be some common ground when you’re looking at long-term.” She winced slightly. “Well, anyway...the food is great, as always. I should get back.”
“I’m going to go in with you and then head back out to the street.”
“Okay. You really think someone is watching the shop?”
“I really do. You already told me you had seen both Barton Quincy and Larry Swenson in A Beautiful Mind.”
“But that was before Lena came to me that night.”
“I’m guessing they knew Lena had been there before.”
“But just because she was there—”
“You don’t claim to be a medium. But you do read tea leaves and the tarot. If they knew she had been to your shop, they might have been trying to find out if she’d come to you with her accusation that someone helped Anthony off that building. And if so, even though it’s a bit of a stretch...maybe they were trying to make sure she didn’t give you information from the beyond.”
“Wait. You think our killer believes in the occult? Even I didn’t believe that a ghost delivering a message was possible until Lena appeared.”
“Either the killer believes or doesn’t want to take any chances with loose ends.” He smiled at her. “But don’t worry, I promise you…until I know you’re safe, I’ll be close to you at all times.”
Casey smiled weakly. She wasn’t sure how close she wanted him to be. The more they were together, the more she felt the strength of simple attraction.
No...
Not simple. He had proven to be decent, ethical, and even courteous. There was no denying his appearance, the shoulders, the slim hips. His long legs, great face...
She couldn’t shake Lauren’s words.
Premeditated sex!
But she couldn’t see herself just suggesting that to him since neither of them had anything else going on. How about some recreational sex?
“Ah, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “We’d better get going.”
He paid the tab, and they left, walking side by side the few blocks back to the shop.
Their arms occasionally brushed as they walked. He caught her hand to steer her to his side when a kid on a bicycle almost ran them off the sidewalk. It was good to feel his hand surrounding hers.
And to wonder just how good it would feel elsewhere...
Chapter 7
Ryder left Casey to wander, moving across the street and then up the other way.
The concept that someone was watching her at the shop might be crazy, but if Barton Quincy and Larry Swenson had been in her shop, it gave credence to the idea that someone was suspicious of her.
Finding out who among his list of suspects might believe in the occult would be an interesting aspect to the case.
He had wandered down two blocks, pretending to look in shop windows, when he saw a woman entering Casey’s store—Gail Reeves, the Marceau’s housekeeper.
He didn’t think Casey had met the woman when she was at the house. She’d seen Stephanie that day, and only Stephanie. Gail had been out, or so he thought, and he had been with Annette.
He strode back, wondering if he should go in. He might as well. Gail knew Casey had come to the house. Stephanie had gone on about being accosted by the city’s mystics, so Gail knew about Casey.