Behind the Mask. Joanna Wayne

back, he leaned his muscular frame against the brick column that bordered the steps. He smiled, the same devastating smile she remembered. But something was different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

      “Oh, I intend to follow up, all right. And if there is a murderer, I’ll catch him. You can count on it. But when I get started, I’ll do it the right way.”

      She turned back to the door and gave the bell a final attempt. All was quiet. But not still. The curtain at the front window inched sideways.

      “And it looks like you’re about to get started,” she quipped.

      Graham shot a penetrating look in her direction and stepped in front of her. “Lucky me.”

      The door opened slowly, and a tall, thin woman peeked around the edge. She wasn’t old, no more than forty-five or so, but streaks of gray dulled her dark hair, and deep lines had already formed around her mouth and beneath her eyes. The furrows in her brow deepened when Graham presented his badge and an introduction.

      “I hope we’re not disturbing you too much, ma’am. I just need to talk to you a minute.”

      “What is it, Officer?”

      “Just a couple of questions. Someone reported a disturbance in this area last night.”

      “You can come in, for a minute. But I doubt if I can be much help. I work here five days a week, but I wasn’t here last night.” A New Orleans accent flavored the woman’s voice.

      She motioned them into the massive foyer with a wave of her hand. “My name’s Ruby Oleander. Most people just call me Miss Ruby.”

      Graham stepped back to let Lindsey enter in front of him. “And how about the owners of the house? Are they in?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

      “No. They’re out of the country. In Rome. They have been for three weeks,” she explained, ushering them into the formal living room.

      Lindsey took a seat beside the window and listened as Graham proceeded with the questioning, his easy manner quickly putting the suspicious housekeeper at ease.

      She had worked for the LeBlancs for twenty years, Miss Ruby explained. And no doubt the LeBlancs could afford to pay her well for her services, Lindsey noted as she studied the opulent surroundings. It was no wonder Miss Ruby took her job as caretaker of the estate so seriously.

      The house was furnished in antiques. Authentic, unless she missed her guess. Lindsey’s gaze followed the lines of the marble fireplace down to the hardwood floors that were covered with well-worn but exquisite Persian rugs. It was like visiting a living museum, even down to the smells of age and lingering cigarette smoke.

      The place screamed money. No, not screamed, bespoke—elegantly. Apparently old money. Uptown at its finest. The same type of homes many of her high school friends had lived in. But not the way she had lived. Her dad epitomized the flashiness of new wealth. He liked life on the cutting edge, everything new and thoroughly modern.

      Lindsey shifted her weight and tried to get comfortable on a period chair designed for women who had nothing more stressful to do than needlepoint.

      “This must have been a great place to watch the Minerva parade from,” Graham commented, his tone as relaxed and friendly as if he were chatting with an old friend. “I heard it was impressive for a new krewe. What did you think of it?”

      He was pretty smooth. Lindsey would have to give him that. She would have just plunged in herself, demanding to know who was in the house last night. Of course, Miss Ruby would probably have shut up like a clam.

      “I didn’t see the parade.”

      Miss Ruby’s tone cooled considerably as she responded curtly to Graham’s question and then shut up like a clam. So much for smooth.

      Graham flashed her his most dazzling smile. “I didn’t see it, either. Not much of a paradegoer myself. I heard it was nice, though.”

      “There’s really nothing I can tell you about last night,” Miss Ruby offered, regaining her composure quickly and sliding back into her friendly-housekeeper role. “You’ll have to ask one of the other neighbors. This house was empty last night, locked up tight.”

      Lindsey squirmed about in the chair, determined to keep her mouth shut, even if it killed her. Her agitation did not go unnoticed.

      “Could I get you some coffee? Or perhaps a cup of tea, Miss—?”

      “Yes, some coffee would be nice.” Lindsey nodded appreciatively at the woman, but decided against providing her name. Especially with Graham intensifying that “keep quiet” look he’d been shooting her way ever since they’d stepped inside the door.

      “And you, Detective Dufour?”

      “No, nothing for me.”

      Lindsey waited until Miss Ruby left the room, then moved over to the couch beside Graham. “The woman’s an expert liar,” she whispered. “That story about no one being here last night. Pure fabrication. And she told it with a straight face.”

      “Maybe.”

      “Not maybe. There were people here. At least two, and one of them didn’t leave the house alive.”

      “Try to stay calm, Lindsey. I’ll handle this. I don’t want you getting all upset.”

      His eyes bored into hers, and for a second she could have sworn there was more there than just casual concern. She pulled away and moved back to her chair.

      “Doctor’s orders,” he added. “Benson said he was holding me personally responsible for your well-being today. And I don’t need any more trouble.”

      “You don’t need to worry about me,” Lindsey answered. “I can take care of myself, remember?” But she smothered any further protests. Miss Ruby’s feet were already padding back down the carpeted hallway.

      The woman reentered the room slowly, bearing an impressive silver tray laden with two delicate china cups and saucers and a pot of steaming coffee.

      “I brought sugar and cream, but I have artificial sweetener in the kitchen, if you prefer. You don’t look as if you need it, though,” the housekeeper offered, easing the tray onto the marble-topped table by Lindsey’s chair. She filled one cup and then looked Lindsey in the eye. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name.”

      “Green. Officer Green,” Graham supplied quickly.

      Lindsey stirred the lump of sugar she had dropped into her coffee with renewed vigor, attempting to hide her surprise. As far as she could see, there was no possible reason to lie about her identity or to hide the fact that she’d witnessed a murder. She was perfectly willing to testify, to do whatever it took to bring the ruthless killer to justice.

      “Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Detective?” Miss Ruby asked, lifting the other cup and tipping it in his direction. “It’s fresh.”

      “No, none for me, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Officer Green and I took a walk through the house. You know, check things out for you.”

      “I’m sure that’s not necessary, Detective.”

      “Probably not, but like I told you earlier, there was a report by one of the parade watchers of some kind of unusual disturbance around here last night. Of course, it could be a mistake, but if someone did break in here... Well, you know, you just can’t be too careful these days.”

      “They were mistaken,” Miss Ruby retorted indignantly. “If someone had been in the house last night, I would know it. You can be sure of that.”

      For once, Lindsey believed her. The housekeeper didn’t miss much. It was a safe bet the woman knew that someone had been in the house. And she probably knew a lot more. Like who and why. But Graham wasn’t going to get it out of her. Not with that polite little questioning method he was using. It probably worked