French Silk(111)

She pushed aside the thought. It was too painful to think about. She was hopelessly in love with Cassidy, the key word being hopelessly. They could have no future together. Even if they weren't on opposite sides of a criminal investigation, he embodied the system that she feared and resented. As much as she loved Cassidy the man, she didn't believe she could ever completely trust Cassidy the prosecutor.

For Claire it was a heartbreaking conflict. When she dwelled on it, she was paralyzed by despair, so she kept this secret love locked away in her heart and pretended it wasn't there.

She extended her cup. "Pour me some more tea, please, Mama. You make better tea than anyone." Claire directed their conversation to less disturbing topics. A half-hour later, Mary Catherine withdrew with the tray, leaving Claire alone again. She scanned the newspapers.

Joshua Wilde vehemently denied having had anything to do with his father's slaying. Ariel accused Cassidy of implicating them only to cover his own ineptitude. She suggested that, for personal reasons, he was sheltering the most viable suspect. She had coyly declined to say who that suspect was, even when specifically asked if she referred to Claire Laurent. Her avoidance only confirmed the insinuation.

Claire was naturally relieved that she was no longer Cassidy's leading suspect, but she couldn't afford to get smug. She was temporarily in the eye of the hurricane and must still weather the second, and perhaps more ferocious, half of the storm. If Joshua Wilde became nervous over Cassidy's allegations, there was no telling what he might do or say to take the heat off himself. Instead of one foe, she would then have two.

Dwelling on that, she jumped when the telephone at her elbow rang. She didn't answer until the third ring. "Hello?"

"Claire, is that you?"

"Andre? Bonsoir. It's good to hear from you. How are you?"

"Fine, fine, I'm fine. No, actually…" He paused. "I'm terribly worried about Yasmine."

Claire frowned with full understanding of his concern. Since the breakup with her lover, Yasmine had been acting strangely. There was nothing that Claire could put her finger on, but something was amiss. On the surface, Yasmine was the same. As they wound up their work at Rosesharon, she had joked with the crew, bitched with Leon, and approached each catalog photograph with her customary imagination and flair. But her enthusiasm and laughter rang false.

Once they were finished in Mississippi, Claire had expected Yasmine to accompany the others back to New York, where the remainder of the catalog shots would be done in a studio. Instead, Yasmine had returned to New Orleans with her. Once ensconced in French Silk, she had dropped the pretense and become sullen and silent.

Yasmine said nothing about completing the catalog. Claire was concerned from a business standpoint, but since their deadline with the printer was several weeks away, she was patiently biding her time. Yasmine stayed in her room all day, every day, then went out every night and didn't return until the wee hours. She never said where she was going or invited Claire to come along with her.

Claire guessed that she was spying on Congressman Petrie's house or making attempts to see him. She was tempted to caution Yasmine against such adolescent behavior, but Yasmine didn't invite conversation. In fact, she went out of her way to discourage it. The door to her room remained locked. She didn't join Claire and Mary Catherine for meals.

The old Yasmine surrounded herself with people, situating herself amid admirers and basking in their attention. Ordinarily, she hated being alone, so this reversal in behavior was disturbing. Claire had honored her friend's desire for solitude, as that was obviously the method Yasmine had chosen to heal her broken heart. But perhaps it was time to intervene.

Apparently Andre shared her concern. "Have you seen Yasmine recently?" she asked him.

"Not since last week when you were in Mississippi. She came to the hotel, stayed for about an hour, and left. Claire, you know I never divulge confidences, but knowing how close you are to Yasmine—"

"I don't dispute your loyalty, Andre. Nor your discretion. Both have served me on many occasions. Rest assured that I won't pump you for gossip."

"If I thought that, I wouldn't have called."

"Something prompted you to. I can hear the worry in your voice. I gather you spoke to Yasmine when you saw her?"

He told her about their conversation in the hotel corridor and how upset Yasmine had appeared when she left. "I've never seen her like that. She was quite distraught. Is she all right now?"

Claire, mindful of Yasmine's right to privacy, said, "Something very upsetting happened that night. She confided in me the following morning. I believe talking about it helped."

"Did she return to New York?"

"No, she stayed. Probably because it's quieter here. Less hectic. I think she's trying to sort things through before she goes home."

And Alister Petrie lives here, Claire thought, remembering seeing his picture on the front page of the morning newspaper. She didn't, however, mention the congressman to Andre. If he knew the identity of Yasmine's lover, he was being characteristically discreet. He wouldn't drop Petrie's name into the conversation. At the risk of placing Andre in a compromising position, neither would she.

"Do you think she's recovering from this … unpleasantness?" he asked.

That was a tough question. Although they were living under the same roof, Claire had had less contact with Yasmine than she did when Yasmine was in New York and calling her several nights a week for lengthy chats. Her reply was qualified: "She doesn't seem to be getting any worse."