“Stop staring at me,” Ophelia said pettishly. “You’re giving me the creeps.”

  And what was she giving him? Something between the creeps and a hard-on. “I’ll get Gretchen.” When he returned, Tony had brought a Coke for Ophelia and a beer.

  The ex-bruiser turned a chair away from the table and straddled it, hands on his knees. “Shoot.”

  Gideon looked at Ophelia. She hunched a shoulder. In clear, precise language, Gideon explained about the corpse and his reasons for questioning Ophelia and confiscating the truck.

  “Someone sure has it in for you, baby,” Tony said finally.

  Ophelia, who had sucked down an entire sixteen ounces of Coke during Gideon’s brief explanation, was wide, wild awake. “Couldn’t it be a coincidence?”

  “No,” said Tony and Gideon in unison.

  Ophelia pushed her empty glass away. “Why not? Someone desperately needed to get rid of the body, saw a truck parked in a secluded and otherwise-empty lot, and dumped it.”

  “If you were an ordinary person, maybe.”

  Gideon saw her stiffen. Damn. Smoothly, he added, “If nothing else was going on, maybe. But we already know someone has it in for you.”

  “The dead-cat thing.” Tony flapped a hand when Ophelia bristled. “Yeah, Vi told me about it. You should have told Leopard when it happened.”

  Ophelia crossed her arms and glowered.

  “Even if the guy saw the truck by accident,” Gideon continued, “he knew it was yours. There are magnetic signs on both sides.”

  “Why dump a body in your truck, though?” Tony asked. “It makes no sense. If he was pissed off ’cause you turned him down…” He shook his head. “Anyone who would beat some poor bastard to death like that would just as likely rape and then kill you.”

  “He could try,” said Ophelia darkly. “Maybe it was a woman.”

  Obligingly, Gideon asked, “Can you think of any woman whose guy has the hots for you?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “There have been plenty, as I’m sure you realized last night, but not so many lately. It was a lot worse when I worked at the club. I’ve been keeping to myself.” The look she gave Gideon said it was his fault she wasn’t still doing so.

  He took a swig of beer, but his eyes never left her face. “How about business competition?”

  “My business is too small to threaten anyone. Not only that, half the work I do is for Constantine. He wouldn’t hire someone who harassed me out of business. Which reminds me.” She opened her cell phone and dialed. “Constantine, can you loan me a truck for a few days? Gideon confiscated mine because someone dumped a body in it.”

  At the other end they heard Constantine’s voice and then his laughter.

  “I’m at Tony’s. Thanks.” Ophelia slapped the phone shut. “I have my own ride home.”

  “Good,” Gideon said. “That lets me off the hook.”

  Tony looked between them and chuckled. “Young love. What fun.” He twisted the ends of his mustache, and a moan came from the other side of the door. He opened the door, stuck out a hand to stop Sonya, spoke a few low, terrifying words, and slammed it shut again. “Women. Enough to drive you nuts.”

  Amen, thought Gideon. “Then there’s the child-abuse thing.”

  Ophelia paled. “I don’t know where Willy got that idea! I never touched those girls!”

  This really bothers her, realized Gideon. Like the bitch last night did. Like the blood and gore today didn’t.

  “Of course not.” Tony straddled the chair again and reached across to caress Ophelia’s cheek. “We all know that.”

  Ophelia threw him a grateful look and clipped her cell phone on her belt. “You talked to Willy last night, didn’t you?” she demanded of Gideon. “What did he tell you?”

  Gideon tried to look compassionate and reassuring. And deprecating. Fat chance. “Willy said the dirty photos of Joanna came back with other pictures you dropped at the shop for Lisa. He said you accidentally mixed up your stuff with theirs. The guy at the photo shop saw them, and now Willy’s being blackmailed, too.” Gideon spread his hands. “Willy’s an idiot, but when we add it all up, you’re right in the middle of this mess.”

  “I did not take those pictures!” Ophelia flamed.

  “Of course not,” Tony said again.

  Gideon said, “The question is, who did?”

  “Joanna must know,” Ophelia said.

  Gideon sighed. “When I spoke to her yesterday, she didn’t want me to talk to her parents or try to get you to talk with them.”

  Ophelia glared. “When was this?”

  “When I went to pick up the plaster cast, Joanna and Connie were there. Mrs. Wyler had sent them to get it.”

  Ophelia muttered something sarcastic.

  “Joanna went on and on about her boobs and wanted to know when she would be old enough to have sex.”

  Ophelia shifted from annoyance to concern. “She’s scared to talk to her parents, so she dumps on anyone who’s nice to her. With the dirty pictures, I guess it was easier to let me take the blame.” She bit her lip. “Unless Willy’s into his own kids and is mad at me for telling her she’s too young? I don’t believe it! I’m not crazy about Willy, but he dotes on those girls.”

  “I don’t think it was Willy,” Gideon said.

  “Must have been a boyfriend took the pictures,” Tony said. “How old is this girl?”

  “Thirteen,” Ophelia replied.

  Tony spat.

  “I know.”

  “Too much doesn’t make sense,” Gideon said. “Why did whoever took the pictures drop them at a public photo shop? How could he not know they amounted to child pornography? Is he being blackmailed, too? How did the blackmailer know whose kids were in the pictures? Come to think of it, who took the nude pictures of my sister? Assuming he turned them in to be developed at the shop, how did the blackmailer recognize Art?”

  Nobody had an answer, so Gideon went on. “There are plenty of avenues to explore, but you’re in the spotlight, Ophelia, especially since you handed in that film this morning. He could have developed the film, contacted you immediately, and you could have freaked out and murdered him. In order to keep you off the suspect list, I need to know all about your day. What you did, who you were with, the whole bit.”

  “All right. After I pee.” She shot him an I-dare-you-to stop-me look and went inside the restaurant.

  Immediately, Tony loomed close. “Do you have any idea what will happen if you put Ophelia in jail?”

  “She’s not going to jail,” Gideon said.

  “I mean it, kid.” Tony got right up in his face. “Do you have any idea?”

  Under the table, Gretchen growled.

  “I’ll tell you, kid. Since there’s no lockup in Bayou Gavotte, she’ll go to the parish jail. She’s not your average girl. No matter how disciplined the guards usually are, I guarantee you that one at least, maybe more, will find her so irresistible they’ll get her alone somewhere and—”

  Gideon stood slowly and spoke through his teeth. “I said she’s not going to jail.” He eased back slightly and hushed his dog. “I’m doing my best to keep her safe. If you could convince her to cooperate with me, it would be a hell of a lot easier.”

  Tony relaxed a bit. “You’re the cop who let Constantine go. He says you’re okay.”

  “I didn’t let him go. I never arrested him. There was no evidence against him.”

  Tony waved a hand. “Ophelia’s bitching at you because she’s scared. She has to be sure she’s safe with you, and there’s only one way to—”

  An unearthly howl came from the kitchen. Tony plunged through the door, and Gideon followed across the kitchen and into the back hall. The woman in black lay sprawled in the doorway to the ladies’ room, bleeding sluggishly from a wound on her arm.

  From inside the restroom came the sound of Ophelia spitting. Her voice followed. “She attacked me. So I bit her.” She spat again, emerged, and threw a pile of paper towels at Sonya. “Staunch it, you stupid woman. Tony’s not interested in me.” She went back into the restroom.

  “Christ, Ophelia. What got into you?” Tony called.

  “Sorry. I’m a little overwrought.” More spitting. “She tastes disgusting.”

  “To you, maybe. Not to me.” Tony swept Sonya off the floor. “Your food’s ready,” he told Gideon. “Go eat.” He carried the weeping woman into an office at the rear of the store.

  Gideon returned outside, schooling his face to hide the progressively more bizarre thoughts he was having. Ophelia came back looking even more uneasy than when she left—which made two of them. The humor struck him, and he grinned at her and felt better.

  “Your sandwich is far more edible than Sonya. Dig in,” he said, slicing up his pizza. “Honey, this’ll be easier all around if you stop viewing me as a threat. I’m no danger to you, cross my heart.”

  “All right,” Ophelia replied, not in the least reassured, judging by her demeanor, but she went to work on a sandwich filled with bloody lamb and beef and answered his questions between feeding Gretchen and herself. Alibi-wise, she did pretty well: she’d spent an hour gossiping with old Mrs. Cotter while she planted azaleas in Andrea Dukas’s garden, then lunched at the Impractical Cat after planting lantana on the patio there. In the afternoon she’d done a couple of estimates and finished at the Dukas place, where she’d spoken briefly with Mrs. Cotter about spring planting. Then on to the nursery, where the saleswoman and an admirer named Bob would vouch for her. She’d even waved to a fisherman across the river before returning to her vehicle.

  On his third piece of pizza, Gideon said, “What do you want me to get from the truck?”

  “The clipboard with my notes on it. I can’t do the estimate without my notes. My work boots would come in handy. And my pocketbook. I have no wallet, no checkbook, no driver’s license…” She eyed him defiantly. “Don’t you dare say I can’t drive because of that.”

  “Of course not,” Gideon said.

  Constantine appeared outside the fence surrounding the patio, with Artemisia clinging to his hand. Gideon cursed under his breath, and the rocker flicked open the gate and pulled her inside. “Art didn’t want to come say hi to her disapproving big brother, but you’ve got other things on your mind, don’t you, sport?”

  “Sure have, Dufray.” Gideon rose. “Murder tends to take center stage.” He smiled at his sister—a damn good smile, considering whom she was with.

  Art’s mouth twitched nervously. “Ophelia, are you okay? Constantine told me about the body in your truck.”

  Ophelia shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

  Gideon said, “Art, baby, were you at school all day today?”

  “Of course.”

  “No quick trips out at lunch or in your planning period?”

  “No, I even stayed late for a staff meeting. Why?”

  “Thank God,” Gideon said, sitting down again. “I’ll tell you why, but you have to promise to keep it under wraps. Can you do that?”

  Art flushed and planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not six years old anymore, Gideon. I can keep a secret.” Her eyes found Ophelia’s. “Can’t I?”

  “Definitely,” Ophelia said. “I think the body in the truck was someone who worked at the photo shop. It might be the blackmailer.”

  Art squeaked, “I’m a murder suspect?” She gasped. “Is Ophelia a suspect?”

  “No, baby, no, of course not,” Gideon said. “Neither of you are, but it’s a relief you both have alibis.” He forced another smile. “Have a good time tonight. I’ll take care of things.”

  His reward was immediate: Art flung her arms around him. “Oh, Gideon, I love you! Thank you!” When he hugged her back, she whispered in his ear, “It’s not what it looks like, I promise.” He tightened his arm and kissed her hair, unaccountably grateful for the affection and reassurance, and watched her hurry to hug Ophelia as well. If only, he thought. If only Ophelia would let me offer her comfort, too.

  “Gideon will find the murderer,” Art said, and Ophelia nodded wearily.

  I will take care of you, sweetheart, Gideon told her in his mind, so of course she didn’t hear him.

  Constantine tossed Ophelia a set of keys. “I parked my big new truck out front. You’ll look macho and prosperous. Anything else you need, let me know.”

  “Thank you,” Ophelia said.

  “There’s a rifle on the rack. Best I could do on such short notice.”

  “Thank you,” Ophelia said again. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Love you, babe. Come on, Art, we’ve got some serious clubbing to do.” Constantine blew Ophelia a kiss and then they were gone.

  Ophelia gritted her teeth at Gideon. “Don’t you dare harass me about the rifle.”

  “Ophelia, for God’s sake—” Gideon stood. “I give up. Listen to me. I’m glad Constantine loaned you a truck. I wasn’t looking forward to driving you home. I’m thankful I don’t have to.”

  Tony walked in. “What gives?”

  “She has a good alibi, so no worries,” Gideon said. “I’m out of here. I have work to do.”

  “Hold on,” Tony said. “I have something for you.” He bolted back into the kitchen, and Ophelia and Gideon were left not looking at each other—or at least Ophelia wasn’t. Gideon, no matter how angry and unwanted he felt, couldn’t help it.

  “Maybe we should exchange cell numbers,” he said after a while. “Since I can’t come to your place. I’ll call and arrange to drop your belongings somewhere.”

  “All right,” Ophelia said, surprising him. She accepted the pen he offered, carefully wrote her number on a napkin, and pushed it across the table. She took the business card he held out, tried to stuff it in her pocket, and pulled out a slingshot. “This is how I got the nutria.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Gretchen fetched it from the water and broke its neck.” She put the slingshot away.

  “She’s impressive, too,” Gideon said—then gave in again. “You can keep her for a while longer, until we’ve sorted all this out.”

  “All right,” Ophelia said once more, clearly dying to get away from him. But surprising him again, she added, “You were great with Art. Constantine won’t hurt her. He just pretends to be a jerk.”

  “I know.” Ask her, you dummy, Gideon told himself, but he couldn’t, not until he’d thought it through himself. If it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks, if he’d really seen fangs in Ophelia’s mouth…

  He had a lot of thinking to do.

  Silence returned, and at last Tony came bustling in holding a small pizza box and a menu. He eyed Ophelia, cast a glance at Gideon, sighed, and packaged up the remains of Gideon’s dinner. “Here.”

  Gideon took the box and turned to go.

  “Take this menu, too. We deliver.”

  “I never order takeout,” Gideon said.

  “Seriously, you need this,” Tony said. But as he held out the menu, he grabbed Gideon’s reluctant hand and, with a knife that came out of nowhere, slashed Gideon’s thumb. Blood appeared, alive and brilliant red, rolling over Gideon’s wrist and down his arm.

  Gideon flung the pizza box at Tony’s face and sprang away. “What the fuck was that for?”

  “Tony, you traitor!” Ophelia cried. At the same time she leaped for Gideon, grabbed his thumb, and sucked it into her mouth, jamming his arm between the warm, lush curves of her breasts, backing him up to the wall. He sank against it, the sensation of her tongue against his bloody thumb making him so weak he could hardly stand. Her mouth swirled around and over his thumb and down his wrist, lapped up the blood on his arm, then returned to the wound, painting out the pain and offering pure pleasure instead.

  Tony picked up the pizza box and put it on the table, then retreated laughing to the kitchen. He shut the door softly behind him, and the light on the patio went out.

  Ophelia let go of Gideon’s thumb and sagged against him, all soft, pliant curves and hot breath on his chest. She shivered and let out a tiny moan. Her fingers burned across his skin, seethed up his neck and into his hair, and he shuddered in turn as she raised her head and latched her mouth to his. He groaned, yielding to the hunger and intoxication of her lips and tongue, returning the heat with an ardor as needy and demanding. He ran a hand down her spine, licking at her lips, fencing with her tongue, aflame to explore and discover and possess.

  She broke the kiss and made as if to withdraw. No! His heart hammering, his loins insistent, Gideon held her hard against him, breast and belly and thighs—No, don’t go!—and bathed his senses in her glory. Stay with me forever.

  Ophelia pulled away. “Come on, Gretchen.” She opened the gate to the dark alley beside the restaurant and turned back to Gideon, left breathless and bereft against the cool brick wall. “You won’t need a bandage,” she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “So now he knows you’re a vamp.” Violet grinned.

  “He’d have to be an idiot not to.” Ophelia slumped deeper into the billowy beige couch and messed with the remote.

  “How did he taste?”

  “Magnificent.” Ophelia gave up on the TV and all but disappeared into the cushions.

  Violet primped before a mirror with a bloodred stainedglass frame. “Go get him, then.”

  Ophelia almost tossed the remote across the room. “I don’t want a love slave! Why didn’t you warn me about that Marissa woman? That’s why you gave me that look at supper, right?”

  “I didn’t know she was going to show up, angel,” Violet said. “But Darby had been asking questions about Johnny, and I wondered if I should tell you. Not that it matters, after all. Setting aside the annoyance—”

  Ophelia blinked. Annoyance? Blind panic was what she’d felt.

  “—you impressed the hell out of Gideon.”

  This time, Ophelia did throw the remote. It bounced off a cushion and slid under a chair.