The Hoodoo Apprentice: Allure Part 13

"Sure, so long as she stays out of my way." I laugh.

Squeezing my hand, he pulls me toward the front porch steps. We climb them together, our legs in perfect tandem, then push open the double doors.

Once inside, I set all those mushy-gushy feelings aside and start scoping out for Claude. And, while I'm at it, for Taneea, too, if only to avoid whichever room she's in. She's not in the front parlor and the foyer is empty. The sounds of chatter and tinkling gla.s.s carry from the end of the hall. Everyone must be in the Great Room. Cooper and I follow the sound, our hands entwined, ready to get the last part of this day over with.

Beau's reclined in the crook of a sofa, doing his best imitation of a grieving husband for the a.s.sembled guests who have formed a circle around him. His face is paler than normal and smattered with blotchy red spots. And his eyes are puffy, no doubt from the tears that are streaming down his cheeks. Reaching his plump hands to his eyes, he dabs at the fluid with an already soggy handkerchief. Under the pressure of his heavy fingers, his face sags, his flesh almost drooping and then snaps back when he withdraws his hand. Then he throws his head back and emits a mournful sob, his chest trembling as he sucks in a few breaths of air. But something catches in his throat and he starts to cough. Clutching his side, he rolls forward, spewing phlegm into his handkerchief.

One of Missy's friends, a redhead in a green sundress and spindly heels, scampers to his aid. "Oh, Beau. I know this is hard on you." She s.n.a.t.c.hes a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table and thrusts them at him.

"Thanks, Darla. I just can't believe my angel is gone."

Darla wiggles around the table and plants herself next to him on the sofa. "There, there." She reaches her ringless hand to pat his enormous arm.

Jack sides up to Cooper and me. "What the heck took you so long?" he says through clenched teeth, his lips fixed in a sugary smile. "Do you realize how long you've left me alone with Taneea? And Beau? Between the two of them, I was about to lose my mind."

I lean toward him. "Sorry, but we had a couple things to work out."

"Everything okay?" he asks me and Cooper.

Cooper smiles and smacks his arm with one of those quasi-guy hugs. "Yeah, bro. Everything's great." He glances at his supposedly grieving father. "How long has my dad been like this?"

Jack rolls his eyes. "Since the guests arrived. Just after Taneea and I helped set up the buffet and drinks." He thumbs his fist toward the bar where my father stands ready to mix c.o.c.ktails. Taneea's talking to him, coiling a pink strand around her finger. She points to a few bottles on the bar behind him then giggles, no doubt asking if she can try some. Dad shakes his head. Based on the stone-cold expression on his face, he's figured out her game. She won't be getting any samples out of him. Awesome.

I scan the crowd, but aside from the Missy clones and their antique husbands, I only see Beau. "Where's Claude?" I ask Jack.

He shakes his head. "I haven't seen him. Why?"

"Because I thought I saw his car outside."

He shakes his head. "Doubt it. I bet one of these geezers has an old town car or something that looks similar."

Taneea saunters up to us with a pink drink in her hand. "So I know it's a funeral and all, but this party's lame." She takes a sip from the martini gla.s.s.

"What are you drinking?" I ask.

"A cosmo."

I snort. "With alcohol?" I'd bet my pinkie toe my father didn't pour her a drop.

She sighs. "The loser bartender doesn't have the right vodka or Cointreau, so he left them out." She draws another sip.

I nod. "Really? So then you're saying my dad mixed you a cranberry juice with lime?" I'm surprised I even remember what goes into that drink, but I've helped my father at enough of Beau's parties to have learned by osmosis.

She glares at me. "Yeah, I guess." Glancing at Dad, she smirks. "So your father's a gravesite helper and a bartender, too. How versatile."

Jack's head whirls around so fast, I'm afraid it'll snap. "And he's the caretaker, too. Got anything clever to say about that?"

She snorts. "I guess not." Her attention drifts to the buffet. "I'm hungry. Want something, Cooper?"

"No thanks. I don't have much of an appet.i.te," he says.

"Your loss." Her lips part in a wicked grin as she turns toward the buffet and takes a step, but her espadrille catches on the rug and she wobbles, flailing her arms to keep her balance. Her cranberry juice mocktail splashes the front of my new sundress, its bright pink instantly staining the pale blue cotton. She squeals as she teeters toward the Oriental rug, but Cooper lunges forward, scooping her up before she face plants, then sets her straight.

I gape at the huge, clingy, pink stain that covers my abdomen and trickles down the skirt.

"Oh my gos.h.!.+ Thanks, Cooper. Those muscles really do come in handy," she gushes.

"Look what you did!" I gesture to the juice that somehow managed to land only on me. There isn't even a drop on the carpet.

"Oh no!" Cooper races to the bar to grab some napkins. Jack follows.

Taneea clamps her hand across her mouth. "Wow. That sucks. At least it wasn't a good dress." She snickers.

"What did you say?"

She smirks. "Come on, it's not like it's from a collection. I bet you can get something like it down at the Picky. Though I've never been inside, so that's just a guess."

We did buy it at the cramped local department store that's filled with stuff left over from two years ago, which only makes her comment sting more.

Rage surges from my toenails, straight through my body, and up to my brain. "Right. Because you buy all your clothes from tacky-and-inappropriate-dot-com."

Cooper and Jack come back, each with a wad of napkins. Jack holds out his hand, hovering over my midsection. He looks as if he'd like to blot the liquid but isn't sure which parts might be safe to touch.

With a grunt, I grab the napkins and peel the soaked and clingy fabric off my stomach. Dabbing a few times, the thin paper absorbs a bit of the liquid but not enough to make a real dent. This isn't going to work. "I need to rinse this out for real before it sets. I'll be back."

Pus.h.i.+ng through the great room, I stomp down the hall, and head to Cooper's room. There, I can strip off the dress and borrow some of his clothes while I rinse it out with soap. As Taneea so kindly pointed out, this is an off-the-rack dress made of cotton so thin it should only take a few minutes to dry in the dryer.

Nearing the foyer, I hear a door creak and stop short as the hair rises on my arms. I'm sure the sound came from around the corner, in the hall that leads to the west wing. The only door nearby is the one to Beau's private study. Which no one's allowed to enter without him. It's so private, he keeps the key on a chain attached to his pocket. After eight summers in the Lowcountry, Jack and I have never been inside that room. Come to think of it, I doubt Cooper has either. And since Beau's still in the great room earning his Oscar, I know it can't be him.

Tiptoeing toward the corner, I peek my head out. Claude steps from the study and pulls the door shut behind him, then twists the k.n.o.b to make sure it's locked. He looks first to his right, then turns left. I jerk back, and listen to my heart pulse, praying I moved fast enough for him to miss me.

"Miss Emma Guthrie," Claude calls out.

Dang. Not quick enough.

He sings my name again. "I know you're there. Come out."

Gulping, I force myself to walk around the corner. He's standing in front of the study, his black suit perfectly creased, and wearing his blue-lensed sungla.s.ses even though he's inside. My legs tremble as Miss Delia's words echo in my head reminding me to be strong. Drawing a deep breath, I reach under my collar to rub the blue and pink beads on my collier, which are supposed to help me connect with my spirit guide. With her at my side, I'm not technically alone with Claude. A calm rushes over me, starting at my hair follicles, tumbling down to my toenails. Forcing my shoulders back, I quicken my pace. "That's Beau's study." I point to the door.

His lips slip open over his ultra-bright smile. "You're correct."

"His private s.p.a.ce. No one's allowed in there without him."

"I was just meeting with him."

"Really? Because I just left him in the great room. He's been in there awhile crying about Missy."

His gaze drops to my dress. "Pity, you've had some sort of accident."

As if that's going to deflect my attention from his trespa.s.s. Fat chance. Still, my hand clutches the moist spot on my midsection. "Yeah, your a.s.sistant tripped and spilled her drink."

He shakes his head as he clucks his tongue. "Clumsy girl. You really ought to stay out of her way. There's no telling what kind of trouble she could cause."

I nod. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Claude's brow arches above his lenses. "I wonder, Miss Emma, if you find it as interesting as I do that you are acquainted with the Beaumonts and Miss Whittaker?"

"I can't really say, since I don't know how interesting you think it is. This is a small island. Just about everyone knows everyone. And it doesn't explain why you were in Beau's study without him."

Claude rubs his chin with his long, spindly fingers. "It is a small island. Tell me, how does someone like you come to know someone like Miss Delia?"

What he's really asking is how a little white girl like me-or as the Gullah say, a buckruh-would come in contact with an old Gullah woman. But I'm not going to honor that kind of a stupid question with an answer. "I don't know. I've spent the last eight summers on St. Helena. Who can remember how they met everyone they know?"

"Oh, I suspect you could if you tried."

I shake my head. "Nope, nothing comes to mind."

He leans close, way past the boundary of my personal s.p.a.ce and whispers in my ear. "Let me offer you a bit of advice. You may want to steer clear of your dear old friend. My investigation of the museum robbery is far from over and I've developed some promising leads that all seem to end at her rickety doorstep. When I'm through, she may be looking at hard time." He chuckles. "Though of course, given her advanced age she isn't likely to have much of that left. I'd hate for you to get caught up in this nasty business."

I take a step back. "Do you seriously think a feeble, old lady in a wheelchair broke into the museum?" I work to sound extra snarky and indignant, but the tiny tremor in my voice reveals how scared I am of his power.

"Perhaps. And maybe she had some coconspirators. You never know who an investigation like this may implicate. It's one of the great joys of this job. The mystery." He nudges closer. "The hunt. The capture." His cologne hangs in the air, a nauseating mixture of patchouli, burned smoke, and a hint of something that reminds me of a Jolly Rancher candy.

Realizing I can turn the tables on him, I cross my arms and stand my ground. "You only have this job because of Beau. What do you think he'd say if he knew you were in his study? I'm betting he'd wonder how you got in, seeing as he's got the key literally chained to his body at all times."

Claude's reptilian smile slips for just a second. "How do you know my visit isn't part of my job? Perhaps my investigation has led me to look at the most unusual of suspects. Perhaps even the victims themselves."

"Huh? How's that supposed to work?"

"Can you imagine the real culprit might hire me to redirect the investigation and throw suspicion off themselves? Mr. Beaumont is one of the chief donors to the King Center, which stands to earn a substantial insurance settlement as a result of the robbery. As for his private concerns about a burglary here at High Point Bluff, well, the payout for a stolen ruby of that caliber would be substantial."

I snort. "You'd really turn on your boss like that? Beau got you this job. Without him, you wouldn't even be here."

"Oh, I suspect I would have found a way to St. Helena eventually. Mr. Beaumont may have brought me to this island, but my only allegiance is to righting wrong. A heinous crime was committed on this island, and I'll stop at nothing to make the culprit pay."

Whoa, and I'm the emo one? Okay, so we stole a couple of artifacts-one of which had been stolen from its rightful owner-what we did wasn't totally right, but it wasn't exactly what I'd call heinous, either.

"Trust me, Beau Beaumont didn't rob the museum or steal his own family's ruby necklace."

"No, but perhaps your father, Jed did. He is Beau's sole employee, is he not? Ever loyal. Perhaps to a fault."

My heart seizes. In a matter of moments, he's gone from threatening to prosecute Miss Delia to dragging Beau and my father into this. I remember how he nudged Sheriff Walker into thinking Missy's death was from natural causes. I'm not sure how he accomplished that little trick, but there's nothing stopping him from unleas.h.i.+ng his power to mess with my dad. And since the sheriff seems inclined to do whatever Claude wants, my dad will be in the slammer faster than he can spell turpentine.

"That's impossible. My father would never do anything like that. Ever."

He shrugs. "I only go where the evidence leads me. Now, you can either tell Beau you saw me in his study and risk where I might take my investigation, or we can forget this entire conversation ever took place and I can get back to my job."

I don't have a choice, do I? If I say anything about Claude being in the study, there's no telling what accusations he'll lodge against Beau and my dad. I almost couldn't care less about what happens to Beau, though he shouldn't be arrested for something he didn't do. It's my dad I worry about. He's just the caretaker who's got nothing to do with Beau's shady dealings or what Cooper, Jack, and I did this summer.

My shoulders droop as I step aside. "I guess we're done here."

"Nice necklace, by the way. I haven't seen anything like that since I was in Louisiana." He brushes past me and slithers down the hall toward the great room.

I grind my teeth. He may have won this round, but there's no way he'll win the next. I've got hoodoo magic and the element of surprise on my side. And I fully intend to use them.

But first, I've got to warn Miss Delia.

Chapter Fifteen.

Except I can't do anything until I take care of my soaked and still-clinging dress. I charge up the stairs to Cooper's room, tear it off, and blot the remaining cranberry juice on my skin with a towel he left tossed on his bed. Then I throw open his dresser and root for some clothes that might fit me. The best I can find is a pair of running shorts with an elastic waistband and a too-big T-s.h.i.+rt that hangs off my shoulders like a sack.

There's no time to rinse this chintzy sundress. Instead, I ball it up and tuck it under my arm, then race back to the great room. Taneea is nestled in the corner of the sofa next to Cooper, and Jack's perched on the arm, tracking her every move. Claude and Beau are deep in conversation on the opposite sofa. Though Claude's still wearing those G.o.d-awful blue sungla.s.ses, I feel the weight of his stare as I cross the room to where Cooper and Jack are.

I sit on the coffee table and lean close, keeping my voice low to prevent Claude from overhearing. "Hey, guys, listen. There's something we've got to do."

Taneea snorts. "Nice outfit."

I glare at her.

"Hey, those are mine," Cooper says.

I furrow my brow. "And?" Since when is it a problem that I borrow some of his clothes? He always lets me wear his s.h.i.+rt as a cover-up at the beach.

"Am I going to get them back? That's one of my favorite s.h.i.+rts."

Is he for real? "Uh, yeah, as soon as I wash it. But right now I need to go. Like now."

He gestures toward the door. "Okay. So go."

"But I need you to take me."

His face falls flat and his eyes-now the soft gray hue of a p.u.s.s.y-willow catkin-look hollow. "I'm exhausted. Can't we go tomorrow?"

Taneea strokes his arm. "Of course you are. You've been through a lot."

He turns to her and smiles. "Thanks. It's been harder than I thought."

Jack scoffs. "Really, dude?"

Cooper turns to him, his face drawn. "Yeah. It would be nice if you showed a little sympathy."