French Silk(65)

"I often do. Ask Yasmine. She chides me about it all the time."

"Yasmine would cover any lie you chose to tell."

"It's not a lie. It's the truth."

"Why'd you pick that particular night to take a walk?"

"I was upset."

"Murder is upsetting."

Pivoting on her heel, she stalked toward the door of French Silk. "I don't have to take that from you."

"The hell you don't." His arm shot out and caught her sleeve, bringing her back around. "I'm royally pissed off at you, Ms. Laurent. I should have you downtown right now being fingerprinted and fitted for jail issue. You won't look so hot in puke-green broadcloth, Claire. And the undies don't come from the French Silk catalog either."

A tremor of fear rippled through her. Her greatest fear was of being incarcerated. It wasn't claustrophobia that panicked her, but the loss of freedom. She wouldn't be able to tolerate the constant supervision, the inability to make choices, and the deprivation of privacy and independence.

Cassidy's face was taut with anger. One lock of dark hair had fallen over his brow. His eyes shone with a demanding and piercing glint. For the first time, Claire was actually afraid of him. He might lose patience with her and make good his threat. She needed to talk, and talk fast, because she couldn't spend one night, one minute, in jail.

"I came home from the crusade and—"

"What time?"

Nervously she ran her fingers through her hair. "I swear to you, I don't know the exact time. Shortly after ten, I think."

"I can live with that. The service concluded at nine-twenty. By the time you fought Superdome traffic, that would put you here around ten."

"Harry had stayed with Mama. When I got in, I dismissed her, although later I wished I hadn't. I was restless, couldn't sleep. I tried to work, but all I could think about was Jackson Wilde."

"Why?"

"I'd seen him on TV, but that was nothing compared to seeing him in person. He was a dynamic speaker. He exuded such power, exercised such control over the minds of his audience. Even though I disagreed with everything he preached, I was impressed by the charisma with which he preached it. The people sitting around me were enthralled. Until that night I hadn't fully grasped the strength of his influence. I became afraid that he might actually be able to destroy French Silk. When I went down to the podium and looked him in the eyes, I felt like David looking into the face of Goliath."

She looked up at Cassidy with appeal. "You'd have to understand what this business means to me to know how I felt that night. I can only describe it as panic. Everything I'd worked so hard for was being threatened by an overwhelming force. I had visions of all that I'd struggled to build being knocked down."

Cassidy said softly, "I can understand that, Claire, better than you know." Then once again his eyes focused sharply on her. "Did you feel so threatened that you sneaked into his hotel suite and shot him?"

She looked away. "I told you, I went for a walk."

"You'll have to do better than that."

"It's true! I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I felt smothered. Couldn't think. Jackson Wilde's words kept ringing in my ears. I had to get out." Suddenly her gaze swung back to him. "I'll take you."

"Where?"

"We'll retrace the route I took that night. I'll show you exactly where I went. I'll try to keep the same pace so you'll see how I missed Andre's call."

Frowning, he pondered it a moment. "Okay. Where to?" His hand was riding beneath her elbow as she stepped off the curb and crossed the street. Most of the buildings on that side of Conti Street were vacant and dark. Recessed doorways were deeply shadowed and sinister-looking. Windows and doors were covered with wire mesh.

"Aren't you afraid to walk alone around here at night, Claire?"

"Not at all." She looked up at him. "Are you?"

"Damn right," he muttered, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. She laughed and steered him past a dip in the ancient sidewalk. "I see you know the topography pretty well."

"Very well. I grew up playing on these sidewalks." Pointing out a candy factory with pink awnings, she said, "They make delicious pralines. Sometimes they'd give us kids the ones that got broken and they couldn't sell. We take a right at the next corner."

They walked in silence, past the gray stone building that at one time had been the Louisiana State Supreme Court. They turned right onto Royal Street and she paused outside an antiques shop. "I stopped here that night to browse in this window. There was a marcasite and emerald brooch…"

"Marca what?"

"There it is. Third row down, second from the left. See?"

"Hmm. Pretty."

"I thought so. I meant to come back and take a closer look but never got around to it." She lingered for a few moments more, gazing at the array of beaded reticules, oxidized silver services, and estate jewelry, before continuing.

Across the street, two policemen emerged from the Vieux Carré district headquarters of the NOPD. They nodded politely. One spoke to Claire in Cajun-accented French. His partner said, "Evenin', Ms. Laurent." The first did a double take on Cassidy, but if the patrolman recognized him, he didn't call him by name.