Night Magic (18 page)

"He was young. He didn't
know anything about what he
wanted
. You encouraged every silly
notion that came into his head. Just as you've done with Quentin.
Every time he's done something, no matter how reprehensible, you
blame everyone else. I would have thought you would have learned
something over the years."

"Claude, please don't say that. I've done the
very best I could."

"Yes, a pity isn't it?" Claude put on another
recording. Turning the music up, he sat down and closed his
eyes.

With a strangled sob, Annadine stumbled from
the room. Slowly, she climbed to the stairs to her bedroom. A
separate bedroom on the other end of the long hall opposite her
husband's.

*****

LaShaun wandered around the large living room
pausing occasionally to admire a piece of furniture or art work.
Most of these things she had selected. Going to the window, she
gazed at the scenery below. From the fourth floor apartment, the
view of the French Quarter was quite lovely. The best in Spanish
architecture could be seen in the buildings with ornate iron work
gracing the balconies, enclosed courtyards concealing well-kept
gardens with water fountains. She tightened the sash on the
expensive satin robe she wore. Alive with lush tropical flowers in
vibrant yellow, blue, and purple, it was a gift. One more
indulgence she insisted on as proof that her control was complete.
She heard rustling in the bedroom, then the sound of running water.
Sighing, she went into the kitchen to pour two cups of coffee from
the pot.

"Morning." Quentin mumbled as he took the
offered mug from her.

"Sorry, baby. It's afternoon now, one o'clock
to be exact." She stretched out on the large sofa.

"Whew, some party." Quentin blinked painfully
in the bright coming through the large windows. The elegant drapes
had been pulled back.

"You could say that. If I hadn't gotten you
away from there somebody was going to kick your tail." LaShaun
smiled at him, her eyes seemed to say she might have enjoyed that.
Following his eyes, she looked down. The robe had parted to reveal
her naked body.

"I can take care of myself, thank you." He
put the cup down on the long low table in front of the sofa and sat
at her feet. Slowly he began to rub her thighs.

"Shouldn't you call home? I'm sure your
grandparents must be worried that you've been gone all night."

"They're used to it by now. The old man
doesn't care as long as I don't cause too much of a scandal to the
good old family name." He began to pluck at the knotted sash.

"I don't think it's a good idea to get him
too pissed off, Quentin." LaShaun slipped away from him nimbly. She
went into the kitchen to refill her cup. "He still holds the purse
strings, you know."

"No need to worry. Whatever else he may be,
grandfather has a strong sense of family. He may threaten to, but
since he has no other heirs to carry on the family name and fortune
he would never cut me out of the Trosclair estate."

"But he can always slow the money to a small
trickle."

"Grandmother wouldn't let that happen."
Quentin put his head in her lap as she sat down on the sofa
again.

"Get up." LaShaun barked.

"What's the problem?" Rising sharply,
Quentin's voice had the tone of a wounded little boy.

"How can you be such a dumbbell! Claude is
not going to let your grandmother rule him in anything. Everybody
in Beau Chene knows she has been worshipping at his feet from the
moment they met. Now you get this through that thick fog in your
head, all my- our plans depend on you not getting Claude suspicious
or too angry." Scowling, LaShaun sat across from him in one of the
large chairs that matched the sofa.

"By the time he realizes what's happening, I
will be in control of the company. Grandmother will see to it. With
her shares, and Singleton's help in getting shares from two other
old goats, the board will make me CEO. They'll have little
choice."

"If you don't tip your hand before that
happens. Tread carefully. Stop arguing with him or criticizing his
style of doing business. He might begin to wonder if you plan to do
something about it."

"Grandfather thinks I'm an empty headed moron
with nothing on my mind but liquor and women. This is one time his
low opinion of me will work to my advantage." Quentin gave a short,
bitter laugh.

"The smartest thing is not to take anything
for granted." LaShaun tapped a long fingernail against the side of
the coffee mug.

"Angel, relax. The old man doesn't know
anything about us. Didn't I fix so that your grandmother's land was
paid for at top dollar? I'm going to take care of you. Those stocks
you bought have tripled in value like I said they would. Batton
Chemical may be buying another company soon. Come back over here.
Come on." Quentin patted the sofa cushion next to him.

"Yes, lover. You've certainly come through
for me. Just keep your eye on Claude. He's not stupid." She sank
down next to him leaning with her back against his chest.

"He may not be, but he can't be everywhere at
once. This opposition to the plant has been keeping him distracted,
lucky for us."

"That's another thing. Savannah and her
father are really making a lot of noise." LaShaun spoke in a low
growl, like an angry alley cat.

"Yes, they're a nuisance with their
self-righteous speeches." Quentin said with a voice dripping with
disdain. He began to languidly stroke the curve of her jaw line.
"But from your reaction at the mere mention of Savannah, your
dislike must go deeper than just their environmental activism."
Quentin nuzzled her ear lobe.

"Savannah and her father think they’re better
than me. Since we were kids she's pranced around like she thinks
she's Miss It," LaShaun hissed.

"Well, they can make all the noise they want.
That plant is not going to be shut down. Not with the connections
we have." Quentin's fingers moved across the fabric covering one of
her breast.

"I'm going to show her. When I'm through
she's going to leave town so fast, she'll be moving at the speed of
light." LaShaun spoke with relish, her eyes gleaming at the thought
of vengeance.

"My, my, she has really gotten to you. What
is the feud between the Rousselle and St. Julien clans?" His hand
became still as he paused to study her.

"Never mind about that, you concentrate on
making sure Claude doesn't think too hard about how you spend your
days at the office. Like I said, he's no fool," She warned.

"He can be gotten around. That bastard Honorè
sure has the wool pulled over his eyes. Grandfather is eating out
of his hand for some damn reason." A slight frown creased his
forehead. He shifted his attention back to her and resumed
caressing the soft mound of flesh. "But they'll both be in for a
big surprise."

"Paul is no fool either. He doesn't miss
much," LaShaun said. She darted a sly side glance at him.

"Paul, eh? How do you know him?" Quentin
gripped her arm.

"I met him when he first came to town. He
stopped at the museum. Quite charming, very handsome." LaShaun
smiled as she felt his hand close even tighter.

"Is that all? Tell me." Quentin breathed
heavily, speaking low with his lips at her ear.

"What do you want to know, lover? Should I
describe it in detail? Is that would you want?" She wriggled closer
allowing his hands to go farther under the hem of the robe.

"He's one of the others, isn't he? The ones
you won't tell me about."

"Of course, one of the dozens under my
spell." She threw back her head laughing.

"You know, if I thought for one minute that
were true I'd break your lovely brown neck. Now say it." His voice
was hoarse with lust as he urged her to once again play the
game.

"I have another lover..." LaShaun slipped the
robe from her shoulders. Bending her face low, she kneaded the
flesh on his thighs. As her hands moved in circles higher, she
whispered a description of what she and her other lover did in bed.
"Is that what you want me to do?" Her tongue left a wet trail on
his skin.

"Oh, yes." With a groan Quentin lay back on
the cushion. With his eyes is eyes closed, he gave himself up to
her.

*****

In the weeks leading up to the trial,
wherever Savannah happened to be LaShaun frequently appeared,
though always at a distance. At the local grocery store, suddenly
LaShaun would be at the end of the aisle smiling at her. Stopping
at the dry cleaners, Savannah would look up to find LaShaun
standing at the end of the block waving as though they were best
chums. Leaving the law library at the university in Baton Rouge
late one night, Savannah had the uneasy feeling that she was being
watched. Seeing no one she chided herself for being paranoid. As
she was backing out of her parking space, a shadowy figure appeared
in her rear view mirror. She slammed on her brakes and jumped out
of the car only to find that she was alone on the parking lot. Low
but distinctive mocking laughter faded as if carried away by the
wind.

After two weeks of this, Savannah began to
dread having to step outside. Her sleep was troubled nightly by
strange dreams, vivid and menacing. She jumped at any sudden sound.
Though she tried to blame it on working long hours, Tante Marie
still wasn't convinced.

"Cher, you got a look that's more than tired.
Somethin' else wrong with you."

"Honest, Tante Marie. I'm just bushed from
putting in too many hours at the library after being at the shop
all day. But I'm about finished with my research, then I'll be
okay."

"Uh-huh." Tante Marie obviously wasn't
convinced, but said nothing more.

The winter days were short so that by five
o'clock it was completely dark. This only fueled Savannah's growing
uneasiness about running errands after leaving the shop. Between
keeping up with her father's business and working on learning
everything she could about state environmental regulations, she
rarely got home before seven o'clock. One evening she was locking
up the shop when she saw a familiar figure standing two stores
away. Anger overcame fear. Savannah headed straight for her, the
sound of her steps an angry staccato on the pavement.

"What's the deal, LaShaun? What is this
appearing, then disappearing act?" Savannah stood within three feet
of her.

"Why I don't know what you're talking about."
LaShaun's expression was impassive.

"You seem to have a problem with me or
something."

"You have the problem, not me. I'm just out
running errands and minding my own business." LaShaun turned back
to the trendy clothes artfully displayed in the women's
boutique.

"There is something, some bad feeling that
has been between us since we were kids. I've never understood why.
What have I ever done to you?" Savannah took a step closer. "Tell
me."

LaShaun's body still faced the shop window,
only her head turned slowly in Savannah's direction. In the light
from the window, Savannah could see her lips part slightly, a soft
hissing came from them. All other sound seemed to become muted.
Eyes glittering with hatred, LaShaun smiled as she spoke.

"Sins of the father. My mother died before
her time because promises your papa made weren't kept. He used her
then tossed her away like she was yesterdays' garbage. You will not
take from me."

Savannah backed away slowly, her breath
coming in short gasps, her chest tight. The hissing increased,
swelling around her. She turned quickly to find herself in front of
the flower shop two blocks in the opposite direction of her car.
Grateful for the bright cheerful lights that winked from the
festive display for Valentine's Day, she leaned against the front
door and fought to slow her breathing. After a time, she looked
back down the street. LaShaun was gone.

"Excuse me, ma'am." A man and little boy had
cautiously pulled opened the door to come outside. "You alright?"
They both peered at her with concern.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just running around trying
to get too much done at once, I guess." Savannah smiled weakly.

"You want us walk you to your car? Tony, pick
up the lady's bag she dropped."

"Thank you, no." Savannah began to feel
better under their kindly attentions. Tony's plump brown face
turned up to her tugged at her heart. "I'm fine now, really. Thank
you, Tony." She tucked the small bags into a larger one.

After Savannah once again reassured them her
car was close by, they left. Eager to leave, she threw the packages
onto the back seat and got in behind the wheel. As she reached to
adjust the rear view mirror, she screamed. A tiny doll swung slowly
from a string inches from her face. Arms tied behind its back, a
black veil covered the head.

Chapter 8

Her eyes felt as if fine grains of sand had
been rubbed across them. Savannah blinked into the mirror of the
ladies room for the third time. Taking a deep breath, she
straightened the crisp white blouse she wore beneath the charcoal
gray jacket of her suit.

"I told you, you look great. Why do you keep
staring at your eyes like that?" Charice pulled her away from the
mirror.

"Just checking to make sure my eyes aren't
bloodshot. How you look in court is as important as how you
perform, believe me." Savannah tried to turn back to see her
reflection again.

"Listen to me, you look okay--"

"Okay? A minute ago you said great. Be honest
with me."

"Savannah, you are tripping. Steady yourself,
girlfriend."

"I'm all right, just jumpy because it's been
a while since I was in a court. Most of my corporate work involved
contracts, not trials."

"Now you be honest. I've seen you face down
alligators without breaking a sweat. What's up with you?" Charice
stood between her and the door, a sign that they were not leaving
until she had an answer that sounded like the truth.