This Wicked Game

  The man grabbed her arm as she turned to go. Xander’s body tensed. Claire had no doubt that if the man made one more move toward Estelle, Xander would be all over him.

  “You mete out . . . as if there will never be consequences. It’s time for you to be on the other side of the equation,” the man said, his face mere inches from Estelle’s. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking our previous . . . buys you any consideration now.”

  They stood like that, their eyes locked, for a few seconds before Estelle wrenched free, rubbing the place where his hand had gripped her arm.

  She turned around, marching straight toward Claire and Xander. They flattened themselves against the building. trying not to breathe as she made her way past them. When she was gone, Claire leaned forward, peering at the place where Estelle had stood with the man, wondering if he had left, too.

  But he was still there, staring in her direction.

  Xander tugged on her hand, pulling her back toward the arbor.

  Claire stumbled. “Xander . . . wait!”

  He looked down at her as he propelled them over the pathway. “We can talk in a minute. I don’t want you anywhere near that guy.”

  They exited the pathway onto a stretch of grass. The torches lit around the yard combined with the music to create a festive air. It was hard to believe just a couple of minutes before they’d been witness to what had seemed very much like a threat.

  And maybe even a reference to some kind of affair.

  “Champagne?”

  Xander looked at the man standing at his shoulder, then took one, tipping his head and downing the liquid in one gulp before setting the empty glass back on the tray.

  Claire touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  She had never seen him lose his cool. Not once in all the time she’d known him. The only time she’d even seen him upset was the few times they argued about whether or not to come clean with their relationship.

  He shook his head. “Who was that? And why was he talking to my mother that way?”

  Claire pulled him to the side. Several people at Allegra’s table glanced their way. “You know who it was. It was the man from Dauphine Street.”

  He shook his head, his jaw set in a hard line of denial. “We can’t be sure of that. It was dark. It could have been anybody.”

  “It was him,” she insisted. “He was wearing the same bracelet. He had the same face.”

  “There’s probably more than one bracelet like that in the city, Claire. And we only got a quick look at the side of his face when we were spying on that house yesterday.”

  She wanted to argue. To prove her point. But looking at Xander’s face, at the combination of anger and confusion in his eyes, she didn’t have the heart.

  She took Xander’s hand. “You’re probably right.”

  The rest of the night was tame compared to the beginning. They met up with Sasha and took advantage of the party by heaping their plates full of traditional New Orleans food, including delicious doughy beignets, almost invisible under heaps of powdered sugar. Later, she and Xander shared a few dances, and they ended up with a bigger group that included Allegra, Laura, and Charlie and William Valcour. Claire was surprised to find that she was actually having fun.

  Xander went through the motions, but she could see the strain on his face. Every now and then, she caught him looking at his mother. Claire wondered if it was her imagination that Estelle looked flustered and distracted.

  The crowd started disbursing around midnight. Claire managed a semiprivate good-bye with Xander in the shadow of the big magnolia tree at the side of the Toussaint house before she met up with her parents to leave. Then she was removing the headpiece from her hair and leaning back against the leather seat of the Lexus as her dad drove them home and her mother talked nonstop about everything that had happened at the ball and everyone who was there.

  “That was so lovely of Sophie to get you the headpiece, wasn’t it, Claire?” her mother said, twisting in the front seat to look at her.

  “Hmm-mmm.” Claire tried to smile, but the flush of contentment she’d felt only moments before was dimmed by the reminder that she’d hurt Xander.

  Again.

  That she was hurting him even now as she denied the gift was from him.

  The next morning, she dragged herself out of bed and took a quick shower, dressing in shorts and a tank top before heading downstairs for her shift in the store.

  They’d received a new shipment of supplies from the Caribbean, and Claire spent the morning cross-referencing the items in the boxes against the Kincaids’ purchase order forms and the packing slips from the wholesaler. Documentation from their suppliers was always sketchy, usually handwritten instead of printed on a computer, and it took Claire most of the morning to decipher the almost-illegible script.

  Once all the paperwork was in order, Claire began unpacking everything, transferring it into the glass jars, canisters, and tins the Kincaids used to store ingredients on their shelves. The time passed quickly, her thoughts flitting from Xander’s disappointment in her to the conversation they’d overheard between Estelle and the stranger behind the carriage house.

  If the man was involved in the requisition for panther blood, why was Estelle talking to him? And if the Guild had already identified him as the man behind the order, why had Estelle spoken to him in private instead of bringing him before the rest of the Guild leadership?

  She’d just unpacked the last item and was breaking down the shipping boxes for recycling when the private door opened. Xander stepped into the store, closing the door behind him. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked at her.

  “So,” he finally said. “Want to check out that house on Dauphine again?”

  NINE

  Xander was quiet as they drove across town. Claire didn’t press him. She could only imagine the possibilities running through his mind.

  They found a spot on the same street they’d parked on two days earlier.

  Xander turned to her. “So what, exactly, is the plan?”

  She’d been thinking about it ever since he agreed to go with her. “I think we should case the place, do our best to make sure the house is empty, and then try and get past the courtyard.” It wasn’t exactly foolproof, but it was the only thing Claire could think of.

  “Then what?” Xander asked.

  “We break in,” she said. “See what we can find.”

  Xander took a deep breath. “Maybe you should go home. Let me see what I can find out on my own.”

  Claire shook her head. “No way. I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

  “Claire, I don’t want you to get hurt because I need to find out what my mom was doing with that guy.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “This isn’t just about your mom. In case you forgot, these people came into our store, too, and Eugenia knew my name.”

  Xander considered, finally nodding in agreement. “Okay. But if I even smell trouble, we leave. No questions asked, okay?”

  Claire agreed. It’s not like she wanted to get caught breaking and entering.

  They got out of the car and headed down Dauphine, slowing when the camellia bush came into view. Resuming their positions from the first time they’d staked out the house, Claire peered through the bush, focusing in on the courtyard.

  “Let’s just wait,” Xander said. “See if anyone comes or goes before we take a chance with the courtyard.”

  Claire nodded. She took advantage of the time by taking in as much detail as she could about the layout of the courtyard and house, noting where the windows and doors were and where the landscaping might give them some cover.

  The entire courtyard was lined with large, overgrown bushes. If they stayed near the walls, no one would see them coming.

  That was the good news.

 
The bad news was that there weren’t very many ways in, at least from the front.

  Claire turned to Xander. “Let’s get closer, check it out.”

  “Wait.” He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “How do we know no one’s home?”

  “We don’t,” Claire conceded. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

  Xander hesitated before nodding. “Okay, but if someone’s there, we leave. And I don’t think we should go in through the front gate.”

  Claire scanned the courtyard. The ocher-colored house sat between two others, separated by a tall iron fence on one side and a slightly lower stucco wall on the other.

  “We could try to get over that wall.”

  He followed her gaze. “Can you do it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You mean because I’m a girl?”

  “No,” he said, with a sigh. “Because you’re short.”

  “Oh.” Now she felt stupid. “I don’t know, but I can try.”

  Xander was already heading for the other side of the stucco wall. The house on that side was small and poorly maintained, set back from the street and shrouded in the low-hanging branches of a giant oak tree.

  They eased into the neighbor’s yard, helped along by the leafy shrubs and bushes that grew along the side of the little house. Staying undercover while edging along the stucco wall, they continued toward the back of the property until a sound from inside the house brought them to a stop. They looked at one of the shack’s windows, where the flickering light of a TV, the source of the noise, cast shadows on the yellowing, lace curtains.

  Locking eyes, they stood silently for a few seconds before continuing to the back of the house.

  The backyard was even worse than the front, the grass dry and scraggly, dirt showing through in patches. A dog on the other side of the back fence barked ferociously.

  “Hurry,” Xander whispered. “That dog’s blowing our cover.”

  He bent to one knee, lacing his fingers together and cupping his hands.

  Claire slipped off her flip-flops and stuffed them into the waistband of her shorts. She placed her bare foot in Xander’s hands.

  “One . . . two . . . three,” he whispered.

  Her knee buckled a little as he lifted her into the air. She touched the wall with one hand, using it to steady herself on the way up. When she was almost level with the top, she grabbed for it with both hands. She hung there for a few seconds, the wall under her arms, before she was able to pull herself upright and turn to a sitting position.

  She looked down at Xander. “Want me to give you a hand?”

  He shook his head. “But stay there until I’m up and over. I don’t want you in the courtyard alone.”

  She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful by his overprotectiveness. But the dog was still barking, and somewhere in the yard behind them a screen door opened with a creak and then slammed shut as someone stepped outside, cursing at the dog. Claire scooted over so Xander would have enough room to heave himself up and over.

  He eyed the wall, seeming to gauge the distance between it and where he stood on the ground. Then he took two steps back and sprinted toward it, jumping at the last second and grabbing onto the wall with both hands. Some of the stucco broke loose, crumbling to the ground with a soft patter.

  Xander only hung there for a second, the muscles in his brown arms flexing under his white T-shirt as he pulled himself up, his stomach resting on the wall. He bent one knee, using it as leverage to get on top of the wall. Then he swung both legs over and dropped to the ground on the other side.

  Claire spun around, watching Xander scan the courtyard.

  “All clear,” he whispered, looking up at her. “Can you jump?”

  She nodded, and he stepped back to give her room. She landed with a soft thud on the gravel that lined each side of the courtyard.

  Xander gestured toward the back of the house. Claire followed, sticking as close to the stucco wall as the bushes would allow. There were a couple of small windows on the side of the house, but they were covered by draperies. Not ideal. If they cased the house through a curtained window and someone was on the other side, they wouldn’t know until it was too late.

  They kept going, stopping at the end of the house to make sure nobody was in the backyard. When they were sure it was empty, they eased around the corner.

  The back had more opportunities for entry. There was a bank of French doors plus a balcony on the second floor that ran the length of the house.

  Xander looked back at Claire. “What now?”

  “I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “Try the doors?”

  “They’re glass. What if someone’s in the room?”

  “We could try the other side,” she suggested.

  “Okay, but stay behind me and be ready to run if someone’s home.”

  Claire followed him around the corner, and they were immediately engulfed in shade, giant trees blocking out the heat and sun. Panic clutched at her chest as they made their way along the narrow walk between the house and the fence. The possibilities were slim for escaping such a tight spot in a hurry.

  Xander continued to the first window. It was open. Not by much, just an inch at the bottom, but it was better than nothing.

  Claire nodded when he pointed to it.

  He stood on tiptoe, peering inside. Then he slid the window upward. A rush of hot air escaped the room.

  He turned to her. “If there’s trouble, you go. You can get help if you want, but you have to promise to go.”

  She nodded. There was no way she’d leave him behind, but he wouldn’t keep going if she didn’t agree.

  He hoisted himself up onto the windowsill, swinging his legs in so gracefully he could have been a gymnast. His head appeared in the window frame a few seconds later.

  “So far so good. Want me to check it out first?”

  She shook her head. “No way.”

  He sighed. “Okay. Need help?”

  “No.” She was already reaching for the sill. After the stucco wall, the window was no problem. She pulled herself up and slid into the room as if she were exiting the deep end of a pool without a ladder.

  Then she was inside, looking around and taking stock of her surroundings.

  TEN

  They were in a mudroom. The air was heavy and hot, the sound of water rushing in the washer and clothes tumbling in the dryer coming from the corner of the room. No wonder the window had been left open a crack. It was hotter than Hades, as Claire’s mother would say.

  Xander crept to the door, leaning out just enough to see the rooms beyond. Claire stayed near his back, trying to restrain her own desire to look while she waited for the all clear.

  He turned around, his eyes meeting hers. “Stay close.”

  She followed him into a long hallway, the wooden floors partially covered by a long exotic-looking runner. It was quiet, with no sign that anyone was home. To the back of the house, Claire could make out a round table and what was probably a kitchen and dining area that opened onto the patio at the back of the house.

  “Be right back,” Xander whispered, heading for the room at the back of the house. He returned a moment later. “All clear in there, too.”

  They followed the hall toward the front of the house. There was a powder room on the left and a staircase leading to the second floor on the right. They continued past both to a small, high-ceilinged room that stood to one side of the entry. It had probably been a parlor at some point, but now it looked like a living room. A sofa stood in the middle of the room and was flanked by two chairs. A wooden coffee table punctuated the center of the sitting area.

  Something about the room felt off to Claire. It took her a minute to figure it out. The house felt dead. It was like a hotel room, pleasant and clean but with no sign of life. Even the decor was bland and impers
onal. She seriously doubted they would find anything incriminating.

  She caught Xander’s eye and headed toward the stairs.

  The made their way slowly up the staircase. Claire was used to living in an old house, and she tested each tread before taking a step, wanting to make sure it wouldn’t creak. They couldn’t know the house was empty until they’d checked all the rooms, and her heart beat a mile a minute, her body prepared to run as they ascended to a generous landing.

  There were five rooms on the second floor, two of them with closed doors. Claire was willing to bet they were empty. The air was too still, the atmosphere devoid of life. She stepped toward the open doors first, peeking inside each before she lost her nerve.

  No one was there, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she took in the two standard-issue bedrooms, each of them holding a bed, bureau, desk, and chair.

  The third open door was a bathroom. She left it alone. No one hid anything important in the bathroom.

  She looked at Xander, raising her eyebrows in silent question and pointing to one of the closed doors.

  He nodded, and she stepped toward the first room.

  She eased the door open carefully, wincing when it creaked. Despite her belief that no one was in the house, she was relieved when an empty room was revealed.

  This was where Eugenia slept, Claire was sure of it. The ghost of a heavy, classical perfume hung in the air; a set of elegant luggage stood against the wall. An iron banister was visible through a pair of French doors. Claire guessed it was the balcony at the back of the house.

  Just to be safe, she turned and pushed open the door to the final room. Empty.

  “No one’s home,” she said to Xander, tipping her head to the room that had been behind the first closed door. “I’m going to check out this one. Want to take the first two?”

  He nodded. “We’ll do the last one together since it fronts the street. That way, one of us can keep watch.”

  He disappeared through one of the doorways and Claire stepped into Eugenia’s room, her eyes coming to rest on a desk near the glass doors.