French Silk(37)

"Damn you! Did you bother him?"

"I didn't have to, but I will if you don't start talking."

Claire was seething, but he'd won the contest of wills. "It was a long time ago," she said curtly. "Before French Silk. He wanted to marry me."

"What happened?"

She started to tell him that it was none of his damn business, then thought better of it. Any hostility on her part would only make matters worse. Yasmine, who had more experience handling men, had doubted that Cassidy would take any crap from a woman. Claire thought she was probably right. Besides, this wasn't really dangerous territory. They could traverse it without mishap.

"David expected me to commit Mama to an institution," she said softly, lowering her eyes. "I wouldn't hear of it. He issued an ultimatum, so I returned his engagement ring."

"You didn't love him as much as you love your mother?"

"Obviously not."

"No serious affairs since then?"

"Don't you know?"

"Not yet. I can keep digging, or you can spare me the manpower and yourself the embarrassment and just tell me."

"Is my personal life pertinent to your investigation?"

"Maybe. Let's go with it and see where it leads." He sat on a barstool and folded his arms.

Demonstrating her dislike for the topic, she finally said, "I've had a couple of emotional entanglements, but nothing really serious since my breakup with David. Does that satisfy you?"

"For the time being." He turned away and for several moments dallied with the clippings scattered across the bar. "Where's your father, Ms. Laurent?"

Claire shifted her weight. "I told you before. He died shortly after I was born."

"You don't remember him?"

"No. I was too young."

"What'd he die of?"

"Heart attack. I believe."

Watching her, he eased off the barstool and advanced on her slowly, until he was standing inches from her and she had to tilt her head back in order to look into his incisive eyes.

"You're lying to me again. On your birth certificate there's a big fat question mark in the space for the father's name."

"You son of a bitch." She drew her hand back to slap him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her hand inches from his cheek. Tears of rage and frustration formed in her eyes. "You have no excuse for delving into my private life."

"A corpse with three bullet wounds gives me a damn good excuse."

Claire wrenched her wrist from his grip, then drew her crossed arms close to her body and hugged her elbows. "Well, since you're so smart, Mr. Cassidy, what else did you learn on your nasty little fact-finding mission?"

"The Laurents, your grandparents, were the crème de la crème of New Orleans society, an old family with lots of old money. The apple of their eye was their only child, Mary Catherine. She attended the finest parochial schools and was being groomed to assume her place in society.

"But following one of those cotillions she mentioned to me the other day, she was seduced by one of the rich young gentlemen in attendance. She became pregnant. When she acknowledged her condition and told her parents, she refused to name her partner. Unfortunately, he never came forward to claim responsibility for the child she was carrying. Her parents did what they believed was justified—they disowned and disinherited her. Only her aunt Laurel, her father's maiden sister, took her in.

"The scandal knocked society on its proper ass and took its toll on the family. Within two years Mary Catherine's parents were dead, shamed to death some said. Before he died, her father altered his will and left his considerable estate to the Church."

"Which also treated my mother like an outcast even while espousing mercy, grace, and forgiveness," Claire added.

"But they obviously allowed her illegitimate daughter to attend catechism school."

"No, Mr. Cassidy. I learned Christianity from Aunt Laurel. She was a dotty old maid. Most people considered her life pointless. But she loved my mother and me unconditionally. During Mama's spells, it was Aunt Laurel who reassured me during thunderstorms, nursed me when I was sick, and helped me through the trials and tribulations of childhood. She was the only person I ever knew who actually lived Christianity the way Jesus intended it to be. She didn't preach. She exemplified."

"But my account of your mother's history is accurate?"

"Very. Her cousin Charles was thorough to the nth degree."

"How do you know my information came from him?"

"Because he's the only one left from that branch of the Laurents."

"Do you have contact with him?"

She laughed bitterly. "No, Thank God. Never. He's as stiff-necked and pompous as the rest of them. From what Aunt Laurel told me about them, I'm not surprised that they banished my mother when she needed them most."

"She was just a kid."

"Seventeen." She cocked her head to one side. "You're slipping, Mr. Cassidy. You sound almost sympathetic."

"It was the early sixties, for Christ's sake."

"Actually the late fifties. Eisenhower was still president. America hadn't lost its innocence. Proper young ladies didn't have erogenous zones."