DREW LET HIMSELF into the hotel room. Only it wasn’t at the Josephine; it was at the Marriott on the other side of the Quarter. The hotel hosting the convention he claimed to be attending.

His change in residence had nothing to do with his possibly being under suspicion for the murder of Frederique. No. He had work to do and that was virtually impossible at Josie’s. Aside from not having access to his room there after being escorted to collect his briefcase, the Josephine didn’t have the modern conveniences of this hotel. Namely Internet access and air-conditioning.

It also didn’t have Josie.

He placed his briefcase on top of the bed, took out his laptop, then set it up on the desk in the corner. He flicked on a light, then went to stand at the window. The Marriott was worlds away from Josie’s place in the Old French Quarter, even though it was within walking distance. From up here, the short buildings and houses that made up the Quarter didn’t look quaint or even real. Instead they appeared crowded together and in need of repair, roofs slanting, wrought-iron railings chipped and broken in spots. In the light of day, the area looked like an old painted lady whose time had long passed, her lipstick cracked and out of place on her wrinkled face.

He ran his hand over his own face.

The homicide detective who had interviewed him had made no secret of his suspicions that Drew was involved in the murder of Frederique. Since he’d been the only other guest in residence, it was natural, he supposed. But should the detective start scratching beyond the surface of Drew’s story, his entire cover would be blown.

Suddenly filling his mind was an image of Josie’s beautiful face smiling down at him as she straddled his hips, her honey-colored skin glistening, her limber body spent.

How would she look at him when she discovered who he really was and what he was there for?

Muttering a string of profanities, he stepped to the desk and pulled out the chair. Moments later, his computer was booted and he was doing research on the area immediately around Josie’s hotel. He picked up the phone to call his client.

“Christ, Morrison, we want her out. We don’t want the place so damaged we can’t do anything with it.”

“Are you implying I had something to do with last night’s events?” he asked, sitting back in the chair as if pushed against it.

“Let’s just say that we’re familiar with your reputation.”

Drew fell silent. Sure, he was known to be ruthless, but not to the extent his client was implying. Did they really think he was capable of murder in order to force a target into selling?

“I’m a closer, not a killer,” he said evenly.

“Then close this damn thing.”

The client hung up on him.

Drew snapped his cell phone shut then sat staring at it.

Is that how he was really viewed in the professional community? As a white-collar hit man of sorts? The one they called in when someone needed to get his hands dirty, and they wanted to make sure not a speck of mud could be found on their person?

He realized with a fist to the gut that that’s exactly how he was viewed. And a month ago-hell, only a few days ago-he would have taken the comment as a compliment. Isn’t that what he’d spent the past ten years of his life doing? Building himself up as the kind of man who got things done, no matter what it took?

He gained access to the Internet and began typing in search strings.

It was time to redefine himself. Not only in his own eyes. But also in the eyes of those he worked with.

12

MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT, long after the police had finally left and Philippe had helped her clean up the mess they had made Josie sat at the front desk, going over the events. The front doors were open, the shotgun under the desk within easy reach. The back door was double locked.

She’d insisted Philippe go home. She didn’t want to risk his having a relapse. She needed him here as much as possible in the coming days. She’d be able to hold her own for the night.

At least that’s what she’d thought when she’d assumed Drew would be returning. But she hadn’t heard a word from him all day. Not since he’d left after talking to Detective Chevalier.

“Stay away from that guy, Jos,” Philippe had told her before leaving. “If I didn’t know you’d kick me out, I’d insist on staying tonight just to keep you two apart.”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on,” she’d insisted. “You’ll see that he doesn’t.”

But now that the hours were stretching, and he hadn’t bothered contacting her, she was beginning to think Philippe and Anne-Marie might be right.

Of course, the alternative was that he was done with her. He’d had his fun and was ready to move on.

What did it say about her that she preferred to think of him as somehow involved in the shady goings-on around the Josephine?

Given that there were now two murders that appeared linked together, both rooms 2D and 2B were blocked off, yellow crime-scene tape banning entrance. Not only couldn’t she enter them, she couldn’t scrub the room in which Frederique had been murdered, which bothered her to no end thinking that her blood still stained the mattress and the floor.

“You’re damn lucky I don’t just shut the whole operation down,” Detective Chevalier had told her. “The whole freakin’ hotel is a crime scene.”

The phone rang near her elbow. Josie jumped, not realizing how wired she was until that moment.

She snatched it up in the middle of the second ring, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Drew?”

She hadn’t realized that’s what she was going to say until the name was out of her mouth.

“Josie?”

A female voice.

She closed her eyes and forced a deep breath. Not just any female voice, but that of her cousin.

“Look, I heard what went down there today,” Sabine said. “Are you all right?”

It was difficult to believe in light of all that had gone on in the past year that she and Sabine had once been very close. Much more like sisters than cousins. She remembered times when they’d dressed up in white gloves and sat with their dolls, drinking tea in the courtyard, feeling a part of the adult world.

Josie looked at the dark and empty courtyard now, wishing for those times again.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” And she meant it.

“So, does that mean you’re finally ready to give this hotel sale a shot?”

Josie’s breath was stolen straight from her.

She slowly took the telephone away from her ear, her fist gripping it tightly, and hung up. She had no more words to say to Sabine. They’d been over this so many times Josie couldn’t count.

When Granme had died, leaving everything to Josie-which was the Josephine and all her many problems-Sabine and her mother had balked, laying claim to half of Josie’s inheritance. They’d tried to obtain legal counsel to sue her for half, only they couldn’t come up with an attorney willing to take the case because Sabine and her mother had a long history of staged accidents and welfare fraud.

Until five months ago. Josie had been visited by a corpulent attorney in a white linen suit and straw hat hired by Sabine and her mother to threaten her with a lawsuit.

Josie had tried to make right from the beginning. She, as well, had been surprised Granme had left her the hotel and everything in it, giving her daughters and other living grandchild, Sabine, only pictures and mementos. Of course, her own mother had yet to surface to claim her sentimental inheritance. It still sat in a pink box in the corner of Josie’s closet upstairs just in case she did show.

She’d been brainstorming ways to work everything out in a way that wouldn’t involve selling the Josephine when her cousin had started calling, threatening to take the entire hotel away from her. Between trying to hang on to the hotel and being on the defensive, she’d never really had a chance to come up with something that might work for all of them.

And at this point, she didn’t have it in her to care anymore. If Sabine was going to sue, she was going to sue. Only, Josie had never heard from that attorney again…

She stared at the phone. Could Sabine be behind the late-night phone calls she’d been receiving? How about the voodoo ritual she’d found in room 2D the other night? She wouldn’t put it past her cousin.

While Granme had always raised her to believe she had no one to take care of her but herself and that she should do so with integrity and pride, her cousin seemed to believe everyone owed her something. Government? Give me money, I deserve it. A woman with a nice car who made the mistake of going to the wrong supermarket? You backed into me, no matter that I made sure you would. Pay up.

Josie didn’t think her cousin had ever worked an honest day in her life. And when she’d offered Sabine a job at the hotel, her cousin had laughed at her, apparently above toiling away at a menial job, no matter the pay. Of course, she’d also said that if she took a job that was on the books, she’d lose her government checks. The same applied when Josie had offered to put Sabine’s name on the hotel’s deed. She’d lose her government benefits. Couldn’t Josie just sell the hotel and give her the money, real hush-hush like, so welfare wouldn’t find out about it?

She pushed up from the chair and walked toward the door. Outside on the street, the world continued to turn, people continued to live, and nothing stopped for anyone. She didn’t realize that she held the latest offer from the hotel chain that was aggressively pursuing her to sell the Josephine, until she was staring at it. She swallowed hard. She’d never once seriously considered the offer.

Until right at that moment.