French Silk(116)

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," Josh mumbled. "That's why I didn't bring it up myself."

Hoping to prize more information out of the troubled young man, Cassidy lied and said, "I think you're feeding me a bunch of bullshit to throw me off track."

Josh cursed and made a gesture as though trying to capture the correct words to express his thoughts. "I had never seen this woman face to face, but I got the eerie feeling that I knew her. Or, more to the point, that she knew me. Hell, I don't know. Daddy had people coming and going all the time. Maybe I bumped into her once and only my subconscious remembers."

He stopped pacing and spun around to face Cassidy. "Something just occurred to me. Maybe Claire Laurent tried the same tactic with my father, and when he refused her bribe, she bumped him off. Had you thought of that?"

Without answering, Cassidy stood and headed for the door, where he turned back and said in a menacing tone, "Josh, if you're lying to me, I'm going to come back and do you severe bodily harm. Then I'm going to pull your lower lip over your head, all the way down your back, and stuff it into your *." He aimed an index finger at him. "I'm going to ask one more time—had you met Claire Laurent before tonight?"

Josh swallowed visibly. "No. On my mother's grave, I swear it."

Outside, Cassidy dropped his tough demeanor. It was too exhausting to maintain. He trudged to his car. Fatigue settled over him heavily. During the drive to his condo, his eyes itched and burned, irritated by every pair of headlights he encountered, but he knew that as soon as he lay down to sleep, they would open and remain that way until dawn, when the whole unproductive routine would begin again.

Wearily he let himself into his airless living room, cursorily sorted through his mail, then plodded into the bedroom. As he regarded his haggard reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink, he realized why he felt as depleted as a marathon runner following an uphill race. Claire had been cleared of one lie tonight, but in the process he had uncovered another possible motivation for her to kill Jackson Wilde.

* * *

Cassidy had left Claire very upset. Long after she had locked the door of French Silk behind him, she remained there, her head resting against the cool metal. She had wanted her meeting with Josh to be carried out in absolute secrecy. From now on, she must be doubly careful. She wouldn't again make the mistake of underestimating Mr. Cassidy's far-reaching arm. His resources outnumbered hers. He probably had plainclothesmen watching her around the clock.

That thought unnerved her for several reasons. First, her privacy was being violated. Second, regardless of the new slant to his investigation, she and everyone associated with French Silk were still suspects. Most upsetting was that a man she had been intimate with exercised tremendous authority over her.

His superiority defiled the tenderness and sweetness of their lovemaking, like a bed of flowers being trampled into the mud by someone uncaring and insensitive. The flowers were still flowers, but their beauty had been irreparably tarnished.

With that dismal thought, she pushed herself away from the door and walked toward the freight elevator. As she approached, she heard its clanking descent and saw Yasmine through the metal accordion doors as it ground to a stop on the first floor. "Hi," she said, trying to inject her voice with more spirit than she felt. Unfortunately, seeing Yasmine didn't cheer her. She was another source of worry. "Are you going out again tonight?"

"Yes, for a while."

"Want some company? I'd enjoy an evening out. I could call Harry to come sit with Mama."

Yasmine was already shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Claire, but I've made other plans."

Claire tried valiantly to keep her smile in place. "I'm glad to see you're putting yourself back in circulation. I was getting worried about you."

"You shouldn't have been. Everything's working out."

"Good. I knew it would. Do you need my car?"

"No, thanks. I'll take a cab."

At the risk of prying, Claire didn't ask where she was going or what her plans entailed. Yasmine's clothing gave her no clues. She was dressed in a semiconservative, plain silk dress. The melon color gave her complexion a special glow. Her hair had dried naturally, encircling her head in glossy, ebony curls. Large gold disks were clipped to her ears. The trade-mark bangles glittered on her slender wrists. She looked exceptionally beautiful and Claire told her so.

"Thank you. I wanted to look good tonight."

"Even on your worst days you look good." Acting on impulse, Claire embraced her.

Yasmine returned the tight hug. "Thanks for everything, Claire."

"No need to thank me. You've been going through a rough time."

"Rut you've stayed my friend when anyone else would have given up on me."

"Never. You can count on that." She squeezed her extra tight. "Take care tonight."

"You know me, sugar." As she broke the embrace, Yasmine winked and clucked her tongue. "Always on top of things."

Claire laughed. This was Yasmine at her sassy best. She wondered briefly if Alister Petrie had called her for a reconciliation. That would account for the special pains she had taken with her appearance tonight. "Shall I worry if you're late?"

"No, don't wait up. 'Bye-bye. I'll set the alarm on my way out."