Familiar Obsession

“Trent, are you sure you didn’t recognize Duke?” She knew better, but she couldn’t leave it alone. She’d been honest with Trent from the very beginning. She’d told him about Duke and the past and how she was trapped in a hellish limbo of doubt about what had happened to the man she’d loved with all her heart.

“I didn’t recognize him,” Trent said with a gentle patience that made her feel even guiltier. “Remember, I never knew Duke. I didn’t move to New Orleans until after he disappeared.”

“But you’ve looked at the pictures.”

“Which can never give a person a real sense of another human being. You know that. You’re far better able to capture the essence of a person in your art. A camera captures the visual image. There’s so much more to identifying a person.”

Liza couldn’t argue with that even though it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

Trent reached across the table and captured her hands. “Liza, whoever that man was, he meant to harm you. He pursued you into an isolated area. When you asked him to leave you alone, he didn’t back off. He could see you were terrified. Hell, I was fifty yards behind him and I could see it. Yet he didn’t back away. I know you want to believe it was the man from your past. But my theory is that he was someone who meant to harm you.”

“And you made him stop,” Liza said. From Trent’s point of view, he’d done the proper thing to save her. She had to acknowledge that. But something else was bothering her. “How did you know I was in danger?”

Trent squeezed her hands, then dropped them as the waiter brought two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Sip a little wine. It’ll help settle your nerves.”

Liza took a small swallow, amazed that it went down. Her throat felt as if a huge lump blocked it, and her chest was constricted. “Tell me. How did you know where to look for me?”

“There’s something I want to tell you. I’ve debated about it, but now I think I have to.”

Liza didn’t think it was possible, but her level of dread increased. This was something she wasn’t going to like. She could see it in Trent’s eyes.

“I did a little poking around into the past. Since you’ve been so certain you’ve been seeing Duke Masonne hanging around, I decided to review his file.” He hesitated, gaze dropping to the glass of wine he was swirling. “Liza, did you know Duke was a suspect in a murder?”

Liza stared at Trent. It was almost as if he’d suddenly begun to speak a foreign language. “He was what?”

“A suspect in a murder.” Trent put down his wineglass and put both hands on the table. “This isn’t the place to tell you.” He waved a hand around at the busy restaurant.

“Finish it.” Waiting would be far worse than hearing what Trent was about to say.

“Are you sure?”

“Just tell me.” She sat perfectly erect in her chair, wineglass still in one hand.

“Before Masonne disappeared, a woman was murdered. Marcelle Ricco. Does the name mean anything to you?”

Liza shook her head while her mind searched frantically for some association with the name. “Who was she?”

“Depends on who you ask. Some say she was a New Orleans socialite, a woman who was famous for her Garden District dinner parties and entertainments. Others say she was the madam for a ring of very high-class prostitutes. Sort of a Mayflower Madam, if you get the connection.”

Liza got it, loud and clear. “And she was killed?”

“Her body was found the day Masonne disappeared. She was killed in her home.”

“And Duke is a suspect in her murder?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why would he kill this woman? I’ve never heard of her.”

Trent motioned for her to sip her wine and waited until she’d done so.

“This isn’t pleasant for me, please believe that.”

Liza wanted to scream. “Just finish it. Please,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm, controlled. If Trent suspected how close to the breaking point she actually was, he’d quit talking and insist on taking her home. As it was, the buzz of activity around the restaurant sounded like white noise. She was totally focused on the man who sat across from her.

“There was some evidence that Masonne used Marcelle Ricco’s services.”

“What?” The one word escaped from Liza’s lips in a rush of air.

“Not as a client himself, but as a…bonus for some of the men he did business with.”

“He sent his business associates to a madam?” Liza understood what Trent was saying, but it was so farfetched that she was having difficulty comprehending it.

“That would appear to be the case.”

“There were records, documents? How come no one told me?”

“There was no hard proof, but enough circumstantial evidence to lead the investigation in that direction.”

Liza took another sip of wine, knowing that Trent was watching her closely. She had to keep her composure. And she had to ask the right questions.

“What kind of evidence?”

“The Ricco murder and Masonne’s disappearance were two separate investigations. But the same people kept popping up in both. When the detectives began to question Masonne’s business associates, Marcelle’s name came up. More than once.”

“But even if that were true, why would Duke kill her?”

“This is ugly, but it seems Marcelle was also running a small side business. Blackmail.”

Liza digested that for a moment. “Even so, what could she blackmail Duke about? Even if he was using…sex as an incentive…” She faltered. It was so ugly. So dirty. And so untrue. The man she’d loved would never participate in that kind of business practice. That it was done by many other businesses she didn’t doubt. But not Duke. He wasn’t the kind of man who would trade in flesh for any reason. Her first impulse was to protest, but she realized instantly that to do so would cause Trent to stop talking.

“Masonne’s business was based largely on his reputation as a keen businessman, a person of integrity and discretion. A scandal such as Marcelle could create would cause a lot of problems for him.”

“No doubt,” Liza said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “But to think he’d kill her. That’s a stretch.”

Trent once again reached across the table for her hand. “I know this is hard for you to hear. But it’s time you faced the truth about the past, Liza. If you don’t, you’ll forever remain a prisoner of it. I suppose I’m being selfish, but I want you to step into the present. The future. A future with me in it. And I’m not so stupid as to believe that I can share you, not even with a ghost.”

Liza had to force herself not to get up and flee. Her gut reaction was to run, to put as much distance between herself and Trent as she could. Her reaction wasn’t fair, though. She wasn’t running away from the man; she was trying to escape a view of the past that she found completely unacceptable.

How many hours had she spent in Duke Masonne’s arms? She knew the most intimate facts about him. She knew how he reacted to her lightest touch, the feel of her lips on his skin. And he’d learned the secrets of her body. And each encounter had been special, a union of body and spirit that could never have been possible with a man who viewed a woman as something that could be bought and sold.

Images from the past spun in her head. Duke leaning over her in bed. Duke smiling at her as she woke up in the morning. Duke with a cup of fresh coffee and a kiss.

“I have to go home,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I knew this wasn’t a good idea.” Trent stood immediately, tossing money on the table for the wine. “My car isn’t far from here. I’ll get it.”

“No, I’d like to walk,” Liza insisted. “Would you just walk me home?”

For an answer, he took her arm and supported her as they stepped out into the darkened New Orleans street.

“I am sorry, Liza. But you had to—”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t make up the past,” Liza said. She tightened her grip on his arm for just a moment. “This has shaken me, but I had to hear it. I only wish someone had told me five years ago. Why didn’t they?”

Trent turned her toward St. Ann Street. “Masonne disappeared and there wasn’t enough conclusive evidence to pin the murder on him.”

“Marcelle’s murder was never solved?”

“Never.”

“And her family? They still don’t have an answer?” The thought of that was horrible. She knew what it was like to suffer in limbo.

“No one was ever arrested. And because Masonne wasn’t officially a suspect, the department made certain not to trade in speculation or gossip. It wouldn’t have been right.”

“How did you find out about this?”

“I met one of the detectives in the gym last month. When you began seeing Masonne behind every bush and lamppost, I asked a few questions.”

Liza kept walking. It was the only thing she could do.

“I know right now you don’t believe any of this. That’s a normal reaction. But think about it. Masonne’s body was never found. There was no indication of foul play in his disappearance. Nothing disturbed at his business, no hint of a threat of any kind against him. The logical conclusion is that he disappeared because he wanted to, Liza.”

“But—”

“Let me finish. I don’t think any of this negates the way he felt about you. I’ve come to know you fairly well. If you say the two of you were deeply in love, I believe that. One thing I’ve learned in police work is that people aren’t black or white, good or evil. Masonne could have loved you with all his heart and still been involved with Marcelle. Smart people are always the most complex, and one thing we both agree on is that Duke Masonne was one highly intelligent man.”

Liza knew it was futile to argue. Trent was a man trained to draw conclusions from facts. That was one of the things about him that attracted her. He looked at real evidence and followed it in a straight line. He lived in a world of solid fact, unlike her own, which was founded on emotion, intuition and a strong belief in what she felt to be true.

Right now what she felt was at total odds with the facts Trent had laid out before her. The best policy, though, was to remain silent. If there was a grain of truth in Trent’s allegations, she would think it through and decide for herself.

Trent stopped at the front door of LaTique Gallery and waited for her to unlock it. Liza knew he expected to follow her inside. Part of her wanted to have him with her, to hold the loneliness at bay. Even as she accepted her feelings, she was ashamed. Trent wasn’t her father or older brother or fond friend she could use to keep the bogeyman away. He had fallen in love with her. He’d told her so. And if she couldn’t reciprocate those feelings, it was time for her to stop leaning on him.

“I think I need some time to think about all of this,” she said, gently placing a hand on his chest as they stood outside the gallery.

Trent shook his head and half turned away. “I knew you’d blame me. It’s human nature to shoot the messenger.”

“Wait,” she said quickly. “I don’t blame you. I only wish I’d known about this five years ago. I have to be honest with you, Trent. I owe you that much. I find it hard to believe that Duke was involved in any way with Marcelle Ricco.” She saw he was about to speak and she put her fingertips on his mouth. “I don’t want to believe it. But I know the police must have good reason to suspect him. All I’m saying is that if Duke were here right now, he could explain everything. In the end, he’d prove himself innocent.”

Trent shook his head. “I only hope one day that you’ll have that much faith and confidence in me.”

His words were painful to Liza. She hadn’t intended to hurt him, and yet she had. Perhaps she had nothing left to give to any man. Duke had taken all of her love, her heart. Maybe it would be best if she simply allowed Trent to move on to find someone capable of returning his love.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I know how hard this must be for you. Maybe you should give up on me, Trent. Maybe I am crazy or stuck in the past or…something.”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling a little. “But I’ll take my chances. I’ve got enough of an ego to believe I can win you over to my side.”

“Don’t let me hurt you any more.” Her emotions were mixed, her relief that he wasn’t quitting bittersweet. “Good night,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss Trent’s lips before she slipped inside the gallery and locked the door.

She watched as Trent walked back the way they’d come to retrieve his car. His back was straight, his powerful shoulders squared. He was a handsome man, and a good one. Why couldn’t she love him?

She turned away from the window, realizing that Trent had never answered her question about how he knew she was on the levee and in trouble. If he’d been checking up on Duke Masonne’s past, then it was highly probable that he’d also gone hunting for her. It was probably just lucky circumstance that he’d seen her in the French Market and then had followed her when she’d begun to run away from Duke.

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