«Amen.» Burke hauled a cowhide briefcase the size of a calf onto his lap and popped it open. «Now, can we get on with the paperwork? I have everything drawn up here in the terms we agreed on. All I need is a couple of signatures and we can call it a done deal.»
He extracted a thick sheaf of papers, flipped to the final page, and handed the document across the desk to be signed.
«I'm surprised your sister hasn't come in to witness the transaction,» Lamar said with just the barest edge of sarcasm in his voice as he watched his hostess take up a pen. «Her moment of triumph, so to speak.»
His remark won him a cutting glare, but no comment from the woman behind the desk.
«I'm afraid Shelby is indisposed this morning. She's resting,» Mason said. «One of her migraines. Poor dear, she suffers terribly.»
«Well, I'm sure she deserves it,» Lamar said absently. He regarded the shocked expressions directed at him with bland innocence. «The extra rest,» he clarified. «I'm sure she deserves it.»
From the breast pocket of his suit he extracted a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles that looked as old as he did. He perched them on his nose and squinted down at the document that was thrust before him. The tension level in the room climbed faster than the temperature on a hot July day as one moment stretched into the next and Lamar showed no sign of picking up a pen. His gaze fixed on the signature; he hummed a bit.
«I'll need to see your signature on the power of attorney.» He glanced up and smiled benignly. «A mere formality, of course.»
«Of course. I have it right here.» She slid the paper across the desk and sat back, forearms on the blotter, the fingers of her left hand twisting her topaz ring around and around.
Lamar examined both signatures with painstaking care, humming. «Yes, they appear to match.»
«Of course they match,» Shelby snapped.
«Lamar is only looking out for his client's best interests,» Mason said placidly.
Canfield nodded. «That's right, Serena.»
«Shel-«She clamped her teeth together abruptly and spoke through them. «Shall we get on with it, Mr. Canfield? Mr. Burke is a busy man. I'm sure he'd like to be on his way.»
«That's right,» Burke growled. «Sign it, I'll present the check and get the hell out of here. I've had enough of Lou'siana to last me.»
The venerable old southerner frowned at the Texan. «I can assure you, sir, the feeling is mutual, but I would be entirely remiss in my duties if I did not read the entire document before signing.»
Burke s face flushed a shade that clashed horribly with his bloodshot eyes. Shelby made a little squeal of frustration. Mason cleared his throat carefully and made a steeple with his fingers.
«If you feel it's necessary, Lamar,» he said.
Lamar looked at them all with exaggerated bewilderment. «Well, I'm not entirely certain. Perhaps I should consult with the real Serena.»
The faces of the three went simultaneously white as the door to the study swung open and Serena and Lucky stepped into the room. Shelby's eyes riveted on her sister and she gave a gasp of surprise.
«Serena! But you're supposed to be-«
«Dead?» Serena supplied, barely able to speak the word above a whisper. She couldn't bring herself to look at her twin; but fixed her gaze on Burke as if she might be able to compel him to confess just by looking at him. Her heart was pounding with desperate urgency. It had to be Burke. It had to be.
«No,» Shelby said. «Gone. Out of the way.»
«Is that what Mr. Burke told you? That he'd hired someone to get me out of the way?»
«I don't know what you're talking about,» Burke said belligerently, uncomfortably shifting his bulk in the leather wing chair. «I didn't hire anybody to do anything. Whatever went on was all their idea.» He motioned to Shelby and Mason with a thrust of his cigar.
«I'm sure I don't know anything about anybody getting killed!» Shelby said indignantly, the fingers of her left hand fussing with the pearls at her throat. Color rose to mottle her face with polka dots.
Serena swung toward her sister, a sick foreboding churning in the pit of her stomach. Oh, God, please don't let it be… Shelby's glance hit her squarely for one brief, naked second, then darted off.
«I-I don't know anything about that,» she insisted breathlessly.
«Don't you, Shelby?»
Serena could feel Lucky's presence behind her. She could feel his heat and his anger. He stepped past her and moved with restrained power toward the desk.
«You don't know anything about how Gene Willis and Pou Perret were gonna take your sister, your own flesh and blood, your twin, out into the swamp and rape her and kill her and dump her body where no one would ever find it?» he said, fury strumming through his words. He planted his hands on the desk and leaned across it aggressively. When he spoke again it was in a voice like smoke shot through with strands of steel. «You don't know anything about that, Shelby? Perhaps I can refresh your memory for you.»
Shelby's complexion had gone ashen beneath her makeup. The blush that had been applied with delicate skill across her cheekbones stood out like slashes of red paint. Her eyes were wide with fear. She pressed herself back into her grandfather's chair in an attempt to escape the intensity of the man before her.
«I-I don't know what you're talking about,» she said, her voice trembling. «You're crazy. Everyone says so.»
«Mais yeah, chere, I'm crazy,» Lucky whispered, leaning closer. «There's no tellin' what I might do for revenge.»
Tears sprang into Shelby's eyes.
«Lucky, stop it,» Serena ordered. She was afraid of what Lucky's prodding would uncover. God help her, she was afraid he was right. She wanted with all her heart for him to be wrong. The idea that her own sister wanted her dead cut like a knife in the deepest part of her soul. She didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to have to face it, not after everything else she had been forced to face in the past week. She didn't think she would be able to stand it.
Lucky turned on her, his face tight with fury. «Stop it?» he shouted. «Mon Dieu! She tried to have you murdered!»
«No!» Shelby screamed, slamming her fists down on the desk. «They were supposed to get her out of the way, that's all! Tell them, Mason,» she said, swiveling her chair toward her husband. «You said we'd get her out of the way. You never said anything about murder! Tell them!»
Time seemed to stand still for a second as all eyes turned to Mason Talbot. He stood beside his wife, looking resigned. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his rumpled chinos and rocked back on his heels as he looked down at Shelby.
«Now, peach,» he said in a weary tone. «As usual, you haven't thought ahead. What did you think would happen once Serena returned? Why, she would have ruined everything, of course. We couldn't have her coming back.»
Shelby looked stunned. «But she's my sister!»
«You hate her,» Mason pointed out.
Shelby frowned. «Well, yes, but she's my sister. I wouldn't kill her! Mason, how could you think such a thing?» She admonished him as if he were a naughty child.
«You wanted me in the legislature,» he said, his voice growing tighter. «You wanted to live in Baton Rouge. We don't have the money for those things, Shelby, not with your spending habits and a new house and an old one that hasn't been sold. But you never think about anything as vulgar as money, do you? All you're interested in is getting what you want and damn the cost.
«What the hell was I supposed to do?» he shouted, the calm facade cracking finally under the strain. He stared down at her with a tortured expression. «What was I supposed to do, Shelby? I had it all laid out in front of me, there for the taking, the opportunity to give us everything we wanted in one shot. And you were standing right behind me, pushing and pushing. What was I supposed to do?»