A Thin Dark Line

digit IQ. You never think, 'Oh, I bet that architect upstairs is a psychopath.' He's been here for years. I never- He hadn't…'

'We can't always see trouble coming,' Annie offered gently. 'If he'd given you no reason to suspect him-'

'Pam did, though. Not all along, but last summer, after she and Donnie split up. Renard started hanging around more, and it bothered her-the gifts he sent her, his manner around her. And when the harassment started, she didn't want to say anything at first, but she thought it was him.'

'Who did you think-?'

'Donnie,' she said without hesitation. 'The harassment started not long after she told him she wanted the divorce. I thought he was trying to scare her. It seemed like the kind of thing he would think of. Donnie's emotional development arrested at about sixteen. I even called him on it, read him the riot act.'

'How did he react?'

She rolled her eyes. 'He accused me of poisoning Pam against him. I told him I'd tried that years ago, and she went and married him anyway. Pam always looked at Donnie and saw his potential. She couldn't believe he wouldn't live up to it.'

'It must be very unpleasant for you now-trying to resolve the business issues.'

'It's a mess. The divorce would have cut Donnie cleanly away from the realty company. Pam would have worded her new will so her half of the business went to Josie in a trust. I would have had the option of buying it out with the partner insurance we were planning to buy. We'd never gotten around to that before-the partner insurance. We just never thought about it. I mean, we were both young and healthy.' She paused. 'Anyway, none of those changes happened before…'

Annie decided she liked this woman, liked her strength and her anger on her friend's behalf. She hadn't expected this kind of caring and conviction from a former debutante. She had expected hanky-wringing passive grief. My prejudice, she thought.

'Now what happens?' she asked.

'Now I have to deal with Donnie, who has the business acumen of a tick. He's being extra obnoxious because months before the marriage split up, Donnie's company was in a financial bind and Pam agreed to hide some land for him in the realty so the bank wouldn't take it.'

'Hide it?'

'Bichon Bayou Development 'sold' these properties to Bayou Realty on paper. In reality, we were just holding them out of harm's way.'

'And you still have them?'

Her smile was slightly feral. 'Yes. But now Donnie holds Pam's half of the business, so technically the properties are partly his. However, before he can do anything with them, he has to have my approval. We're currently at a standoff. He wants his property back and I want full ownership of the business. The latest wrinkle is that Donnie suddenly thinks Pam's half of this business is worth double what it is. He's trying to play hardball, threatening me with some nebulous other buyer from New Orleans.'

Annie's pen went still on the paper. ' New Orleans?'

New Orleans . Real estate. Duval Marcotte.

Lindsay shook her head at the ridiculousness of the idea. 'What would anyone in New Orleans want with Bayou Breaux?'

'You think he's bluffing?'

'He thinks he's bluffing. I think he's an idiot.'

'What would you do if he sold his half to this buyer?'

'I don't know. Pam and I started this business together. It's important to me for that reason, you know, as something we built and shared as friends. And it's a strong little business; we do well enough. I enjoy it. I will sell this building if I get the chance,' she admitted, turning to look out at the parking lot. 'There are too many bad memories now. And that bastard upstairs. I keep picturing Detective Fourcade beating him to death. I-'

She stopped. Annie sat very still. Out in the front room the door opened and the bell announcing potential clients tinkled pleasantly.

'Broussard,' Faulkner murmured with accusation. 'You're the one who stopped him. My God. I thought you said you wanted this resolved.'

'I do.'

She rose with the poise and grace of old Southern breeding. 'Then why didn't you just walk away?'

'Because that would have been murder.'

Lindsay Faulkner shook her head. 'No, that would have been justice. Now, you'll excuse me,' she said, moving to the door. 'You will leave these offices. I have nothing further to say to you.'

Annie let herself out the rear exit of the realty office and stood in the hall. To her right was the door to the parking area where Fourcade had attacked Renard. Before her rose the stairs to the second floor and the offices of Bowen amp; Briggs. Renard was up there.

She thought of going up the stairs. The cop in her wanted to study Marcus Renard, try to pick him apart, figure him out, see how he would fit into the range of stalkers she had studied in books. A deeper instinct held her in place. He had called her his heroine, had sent her roses. She didn't like it.

The decision was taken away from her when the door at the top of the stairs swung open and Renard stepped out. He looked grotesque, like a monster from one of the Grimms' grimmer fairy tales. The troll under the bridge. Moderate swelling distorted features dotted with bruises the hues of rotten fruit. For a second, he didn't see Annie, and she thought of stepping back into the Bayou Realty office. Then the second was lost.

'Annie!' he exclaimed as best he could with his jaw wired shut. 'This is an unexpected pleasure!'

'It's not a social call,' Annie said flatly.

'Following up on my attack?'

'No. I came to see Ms. Faulkner.'

He put a hand on the stair railing and leaned against it. Beneath the bruises he was pale. 'Lindsay is a hard, uncharitable woman.'

'Gee, and she says such nice things about you.'

'We used to be friends,' he claimed. 'In fact, we went out a time or two. Did she mention that?'

'No.' Lie or not, she wanted to hear more. The cop in her shoved the cautious woman aside. 'There's never been any mention of that anywhere.'

'I never brought it up,' he said. 'It seemed both irrelevant and indelicate.'

'How so?'

'It was years ago.'

'She's very vocal in accusing you of murder. I'd think you'd want to discredit her. Why haven't you said something?'

'I'm saying it now,' he said softly, his gaze beaming down on her. 'To you.'

It was an offer. He would give her things he wouldn't give anyone else. Because he thought she was his guardian angel.

'I was about to take my lunch break,' Renard said, easing his way down the steps. 'Would you join me?'

The offer struck her as so… ordinary. She believed this man to be a monster of the worst sort. The sight of Pam Bichon's body flashed in her mind. The brutality of the crime seemed bigger, stronger, more powerful than the man standing before her.

'I don't want to be seen with you,' she said bluntly. 'My life is difficult enough at the moment.'

'I'm not going out. I can't,' he admitted. 'My life is difficult, as well.'

The side door to the parking area opened, and a delivery boy stepped in with a white deli bag.

'Mr. Briggs?' He looked up at Renard, his eyes widening. 'Man, that musta been some car wreck you was in.'

Renard pulled out his wallet without comment.

'I'll share my gumbo,' he offered Annie as the delivery boy left.

'I'm not hungry,' Annie said, but she didn't turn away. Marcus Renard was at the heart of everything, the rock in the pond that had set wave after wave rippling through life in Bayou Breaux.

'I'm not a monster,' Renard said. 'I'd like the chance to convince you of that, Annie.'