French Silk(113)

"Claire." He nodded. "Nice evening, isn't it?" He was perspiring and seemed to be suffering a shortness of breath more severe than her own.

"It's unseasonably warm. Autumn hasn't come to New Orleans yet."

He whisked off a bead of sweat that had made its way through his dense eyebrow and was trickling toward his eye. "Damn right. It's as hot and sticky as a cheap whore on Saturday night."

Claire's hackles rose. "I don't appreciate your crude analogy, Mr. Cassidy."

"Oh, we're back to Mr. Cassidy."

She wanted to slap the ingratiating grin off his face. Stiffly, she said, "I'm going in." Demonstrators were marching in front of the building. Their chorus of "Onward, Christian Soldiers" was slow and ponderous. Claire hoped they were growing tired and getting blisters on their feet.

Unnoticed, she slipped in through the side door. Before she could close it, Cassidy followed her inside. "What do you want?" she asked inhospitably. "I think we've exhausted the subject of the weather."

"I was in the neighborhood," he replied casually. "Thought I'd stop and say hi."

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, she noted. He hadn't yet caught his breath. Beneath his suit jacket, the front of his shirt was damp. "I appreciate the friendly gesture," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse—"

"Want to go for a bite of supper somewhere?"

"No, thank you. I ate earlier with Mama."

"Oh, you ate in tonight?"

"That's right."

"Then you were just out for an evening stroll?"

"I was busy at my desk all day. I needed to stretch my legs."

"Go any place in particular?"

"No. Just walked." She sidestepped him and tried to open the door for him. "I'm sorry, Cassidy, but I'd better get upstairs and check on Mama. I had to leave her al—"

Cassidy grabbed her shoulders and backed her up against the door. "You left her alone so you could keep your date with Joshua Wilde at the Gumbo Shop."

She had begun to smell a trap, but she was still astonished when the jaws of it sprang closed around her. She cast about for a logical explanation, but none came to her, so she responded with a counterattack.

"You were following me? Were the stories in the newspapers only decoys to throw me off guard?"

"You weren't under surveillance. We were tailing Josh. Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be his date."

"If you knew where I was and with whom, why the charade, Cassidy?"

"I took another route and sprinted back here. I wanted to see if you would level with me. As usual, you lied."

"Because I knew you wouldn't understand."

"You knew I wouldn't swallow any more of your lies." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "But give it a whirl, Claire. Try me. When did you first become acquainted with Joshua Wilde?"

"Tonight."

"You expect me to believe that bullshit?"

"I swear! I made several calls this afternoon until I located where he was staying. I asked him to meet me. He agreed to."

"Why?"

"Probably because he was curious to meet the scandalous owner of French Silk."

Cassidy shook his head. "I meant why did you want to meet with him? What could the two of you possibly have to talk about?"

"I offered him money."

"Money?" he repeated, taken aback.

"Yes. In exchange for his influence over Ariel. I asked him to try to persuade her to stop making allegations about me and my mother, to stop the picket lines, in general to call a truce to this whole mess. I told him I want to live my life and operate my business in peace, no matter what it costs me."

"You tried bribing him? Is that what you're telling me?"

"You're standing too close," Claire murmured. "I can't breathe."

Cassidy's eyes, which had been probing hers, blinked into awareness. He looked down, saw the white ridges of his knuckles where his fingers were still clenching her shoulders, saw that his body had hers tightly sandwiched between it and the door behind her, and backed away, lowering his hands to his sides.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're not off the hook yet. Keep talking."

"That's essentially it. I know that Jackson, and probably Ariel and Josh, too, took payola from other publications in exchange for immunity."

"How do you know that?"

"It only makes sense, doesn't it? Publications that should have been on that list—Jackson Wilde's hit list, as you called it—were noticeably absent. What about Lickety Split and Hot Pants? Why was a lingerie catalog a target for Jackson Wilde's pulpit and not those porno magazines? It has to be because they were making certain that Wilde would leave them alone." She looked at Cassidy with dawning insight. "You've probably thought of this yourself."

"I've got people checking on it, yeah. What did Josh have to say?"

"He didn't admit that his father took bribes, but he didn't deny it either."

"Why have you waited until now to think up this alternative solution? You could have paid off Jackson a year ago and spared yourself all this hardship. Did you ever approach him about it?"