Behind the Mask

“So you knew it was me?”

“Let’s just say I thought it might be. I wasn’t sure you still were Miss Latham.”

No. He wouldn’t be. Not when he had been so distraught over their breaking up that he’d managed to stay single a whole three months.

“Did you come here last night?”

“As soon as I read the report. You were out of it.”

“But you stayed for a while?”

“Yeah. I stayed, until one of the nurses threw me out.”

Lindsey met his gaze, for just an instant, and once again pain pierced her heart. She stared at the muted pattern in the wallpaper, determined not to let Graham invade her life again.

“Are you all right, Lindsey? You look so pale.”

No, she wasn’t all right. She wouldn’t be all right as long as Graham was around, but she would never let him know it.

“I’m fine. And you’re wasting a lot of time sitting here, when you should be out catching the murderer.”

“If there’s a murderer, I’ll catch him. Now, exactly what did you see through that window, Lindsey, besides a soldier and his girlfriend?” he questioned, Sergeant—Friday.

“They were dancing, close together. His hands were around her waist. Hers were wrapped about his neck.”

“And you were able to pick up all these details?”

“Yes, I was on one of the tall floats, above the crowd. The street was narrow, and the house sat close to the sidewalk. Besides, like I told you, the round room jutted out, putting them even closer. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch them.”

“Okay. You had a perfect view, and they were dancing. Then what?”

“It was beautiful. She looked so happy, so much in love. The soldier lowered his lips and kissed her. It seemed to go on forever. His lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her. But then he dropped one hand to his side and began to run his hand along the sheath there.”

Lindsey paused. The room seemed so cold. And the memories so vibrant. “It happened so fast. No one could have stopped it. He just yanked the dagger from out of the sheath and plunged it into her heart.” She fought to steady her voice. “One minute she was lost in his kiss. The next she was crumpling to the floor.”

“It’s Mardi Gras, Lindsey. You remember how it is. The people go crazy. What you saw was probably just an act, a performance for the enjoyment of the crowds outside their window.”

“No!” She wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t people listen? Why wouldn’t they believe her? She’d seen a woman murdered, and all anyone could do was question her story. “It wasn’t an act. The blood was everywhere, gushing, covering the bodice of her green velvet dress.”

“And what was the soldier doing while you watched the woman die?”

“I don’t know. I only remember her. When I noticed him again, he had started to walk away.”

“Started to walk away? What stopped him?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps me. He paused and stared out the window. I was too far away to see his eyes, of course, but his face was turned, as if he were looking straight at me. As if I were part of his deadly conspiracy.”

Her throat was dry now, like cotton. She reached for the glass of water on her table.

Graham beat her to it. He handed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing against her own. She jerked away, frightened by the feelings that accompanied something so meaningless as an incidental touch. She sipped the water slowly, struggling to keep her mind on the task, to keep feelings from the past at bay. She had to concentrate, to remember everything that might lead to the killer’s arrest.

“The float jerked forward then.” She shook her head again, to clear the haze from her thoughts. “I’m not too sure about what happened next. Just that I lost my balance, slid to the side and into Brigit. When I looked up again, there was nothing where the window had been. Nothing but blackness. That’s the last thing I remember.”

Graham stepped closer. “Rounded window on the Minerva route. Neutral ground and ancient oaks,” he muttered, as if to himself. “Uptown. Maybe St. Charles or Napoleon. We’ll check it out, see what we can find. We’ll probably need to get back to you on this, though, when you’re feeling stronger.”

Lindsey jerked to a sitting position, temporarily forgetting her state of undress. She couldn’t believe his lack of concern. She had seen a murder, and she was not going to just stand by while the murderer walked away.

“What do you mean, you’ll get back to me?” she demanded. “No wonder the crime rate’s rising so fast around here! I’m the only one who can recognize that house.” She swung her feet over the side of the bed. “And I’m going with you to look for it!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know what the doctor said. You need your rest.” He moved toward the door. “Besides, your description is adequate. I’m sure I can find the house even without your personal assistance.”

She pushed the call button and slid to the floor, careful to keep her back and the open hospital gown toward the wall.

The voice on the intercom wasted no time in responding. “What can we get for you, Miss Latham?”

“Clothes. And I need them now.”

“But the doctor said you needed rest, and your friend Brigit—”

“It doesn’t matter what the doctor or my friend Brigit said. I’m telling you that I’m walking out of here in the next five minutes with this police officer. It would look a whole lot better for everyone concerned if I did it with my clothes on.”

“Yes, Miss Latham. We’ll bring them at once.”

Graham’s eyes captured her, his dark eyes flashing threateningly. “Clothes or not, Lindsey, you are not going with me.”

“Listen, Graham. I’m not any more excited about spending time with you than you are with me, but we don’t have a choice. I can find that house. You can’t turn down my help. If you do, I’ll call your supervisor, the district attorney, the governor if I have to.”

“And if that doesn’t work, you can always call Daddy.”

Anger fueled Lindsey’s resolve. Daddy. Ten years, and the argument was still the same. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me, Graham. I’m the one who can recognize that house, and one way or another, I am going with you.”

“Suit yourself. I won’t spoil your chance of playing policewoman. But just remember,” he said, stepping out of the way as the nurse entered with her clothes. “Murderers don’t always listen to Daddy.”

Chapter Three

Lindsey stared out the window as she’d done for the past two hours, studying each house, each identifying detail, with the eye of a practiced researcher. She’d been so sure she would recognize the house and the window. But her memories were clouded by the sights and sounds of a Mardi Gras parade.

Everything looked different in the stark light of day. Houses that had appeared magical in the soft glow of artificial lighting now showed signs of cracked and fading paint. Cozy porches and balconies alive with eager spectators were now lonely and imposing. Except for the few stray beads that dangled haphazardly from barren tree limbs and whitewashed porch railings, there was no way to tell that the Krewe of Minerva had ever passed this way.

Maybe she wouldn’t know the house at all. They had passed several with turrets and rounded windows that swung open, but nothing about them had reached out to her. There was always something missing. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that something was. Only that it had been in the picture last night and wasn’t there today.

Graham pulled the unmarked police car to the curb and slowed to a dead stop. He reached for the parade guide and opened it again to the map of the route Minerva had followed last night.

“We’ve been down St. Charles twice, Lindsey. I say we break for lunch. We’re getting nowhere with this. Besides, that last police report confirmed the earlier one. No bodies of blondes found. No young women admitted to the hospital with dagger wounds. Not even a missing-persons report that fits your description.”

Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, she glared out the window. There was nothing to back up her claim, and now she couldn’t even locate the house. A truce of sorts had existed between Graham and her ever since they had left the hospital, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“So, do you want to stop for lunch, or can I drop you off somewhere?”