She got back up and walked over to the bookcase that held dozens of books about swamps. She picked out one that she knew had been one of her mother’s favorites and then settled back on the sofa to read.
It was one thing to read about plants in the swamp, but quite another to know where, exactly, in the swamp to find them. Among other things, she would miss her mother’s teachings on such things.
She read for about an hour and then closed the book and began to pace the floor, her thoughts once again a tangled mess inside her head.
Who had killed her mother? And why? Why had this happened? Who could have wanted her dead, and in such a violent way? So many questions and no answers.
And when was Daniel going to arrive here to tell her what he’d accomplished that day to get her those answers?
It was almost nine o’clock when a knock fell on her door. She opened it and sighed with relief at the sight of him. She’d begun to think he wasn’t going to show up at all, but he was here.
“Chief LeCroix,” she said.
“Miss Santori.” He nodded his head in a curt greeting.
“Please come in.” She opened the door wider to allow him entry. As he swept past her, she caught the scent of his cologne. It was a fresh, woodsy scent with a hint of a citrus note. She immediately found it very attractive.
She gestured him to sit on the gray sofa while she sat in the matching chair across from him. Even though it was the end of the day, he still looked crisp and fresh in his uniform. She didn’t offer him anything to drink. This wasn’t a social call…this was strictly business.
“So, fill me in,” she said as she leaned forward.
He raised a dark brow. “Nogood eveningorhow are you doing? No banalities at all?”
“I’m more of a get-to-the point kind of a gal,” she replied.
“I’ll keep that in mind in the future,” he replied. He leaned back, and for the first time she noticed the tired lines at the outer corners of his beautiful blue eyes.
Despite that, his masculine presence seemed to fill the entire room. His energy radiated from him and it appeared that he commanded the space around him.
“I want to know what you did today, but I also want to know what you’ve done for the past week,” she said. “Please,” she added softly.
“As you know, it took several days for us to process the scene here. While my officers were doing that, I interviewed you and both your sisters. You all gave me a couple of names to follow up with, and so the next person I spoke to was Nola Fontenot, who you all indicated was one of Mystique’s best friends.”
“And what did you learn from her?” Angelique asked.
“Not a lot. She was quite distraught when we spoke to her and had very little to offer us at that time. After that, we interviewed Corrine Fortier, who Nola told us was a frequent visitor of your mother’s. We also spoke to Helene Benoit, another client of your mother’s.”
“Do you really believe a woman killed her?” Angelique asked curiously. It was so hard to believe that a woman could have murdered her mother in such a heinous manner.
“At this point I don’t know what to believe. Nola gave us some names of other women she knew who had dealings with your mother, but that was all we got out of her during our initial interview.” He mentioned a few more women he’d spoken to over the past week. “Most of the people we talked to had solid alibis for the night of her murder.”
“What was the time of the murder?” Had it occurred only minutes before Angelique had gotten home? If she’d come home earlier, would she have been able to stop the murder from happening. She hadn’t heard from anyone what the exact time of her mother’s death had been.
“The coroner fixed her time of death at around ten o’clock,” he replied.
“If only we hadn’t gone out that night,” Angelique said as a new burst of grief tightly squeezed her heart. “If only I’d stayed home.”
“Don’t do that to yourself, Angelique.” His voice was deep and soft. “Don’t take on any blame for what happened. There’s only one person to blame in this, and that’s the killer. I swear we’re going to find that person, Angelique.”
“You promise?” Tears misted her vision, but she swallowed hard against them so they wouldn’t fall. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Daniel LeCroix.
“I promise,” he replied, a steely determination in his voice that comforted her. “This afternoon we spoke with Nola once again, and she had a couple more names for us.”
“Like who?” she asked.
“Charles Lathrop. She remembered your mother talking about him. Apparently, he came to her for a love spell.”
“Is it possible the spell didn’t work and so he was angry? Angry enough to kill her…to slash her throat?” she asked.
