At Risk by REBECCA YORK Page B

Gunderson.”
    “Why?”
    “He and Villars were both interested in a piece of property in the French Quarter.”
    “For what?”
    “A boutique hotel. Gunderson got it, and Villars was angry.”
    “That would make Gunderson go after him?”
    “Villars had some nasty stuff to say—like that Gunderson was planning to set up a high-class whorehouse.”
    “Nice” Rafe murmured. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll check him out.”
    As soon as they were out of the restaurant, Eugenia said, “Sorry.”
    “About what?”
    “Barging in.”
    “He was being circumspect, but he could help us out later. It’s obvious he doesn’t like Cumberland.” He laughed. “Probably nobody likes Cumberland.”
    She switched topics and asked, “How are you feeling?”
    “Okay.”
    “You only ate half your pancakes.”
    “Pancakes are filling.”
    “Then why did you order them?”
    “I haven’t had any in a long time. Are you going to grill me on my eating habits?”
    “I’m concerned that you may have had a concussion last night, and you’re not feeling one hundred percent today.”
    “Maybe not a hundred percent, but close.”
    They had reached the car. After they got in, she said, “Maybe we’ll do better with Calista.”
    “I think she’s also going to be reluctant to share anything significant, but we have to try.”
    He punched in the address, then headed back to the French Quarter, where he found a parking space on Chartres Street. As they walked back to the shop, Eugenia was very conscious of his hand dangling only a few inches from hers.
    She’d told herself she’d put away her feelings for him long ago, but the moment she’d seen him, she’d known she was fooling herself. She still cared about him. The question was, how did he feel about her?
    They walked into Galaxy, which featured all sorts of occult paraphernalia decorated in reassuring tones of mauve and silver.
    Eugenia remembered her reaction to the shop when she’d first seen it a year ago. She’d thought Calista had cleverly allowed customers to gradually go from the familiar to something more far out. She wondered what Rafe would think about the place.
    oOo
    Rafe looked around the shop, taking in the decor and the subtle suggestions that there was nothing strange or threatening about Calista’s wares.
    “Interesting,” he commented. “I’d say she knows exactly what she’s doing.”
    “I think it makes the middle-class customers who might start with tarot and astrology feel more comfortable playing around with something more edgy,” Eugenia told him. “You don’t have to admit you’re shopping here for anything but tarot cards. It’s like Voodoo Night at my restaurant. They can say they’re coming for the great food—instead of the ceremony.”
    “So you admit you’re a good cook?”
    “I know I’m a good cook.”
    As they were talking, a curtain at the back of the shop parted, and a petite woman with very light café au lait skin, pretty features, and short-cut, dark, curly hair stepped out. It was Calista, looking very different from the woman they’d seen last night. She was very much a modern businesswoman in her dark suit and emerald green blouse.
    She stopped short when she saw Rafe. “You were there last night.”
    He nodded. “Eugenia hired my company to investigate the muggings.”
    “Uh huh. And now?”
    “We’ll see,” he answered.
    Eugenia jumped into the conversation. “Calista, I’m glad we caught you.”
    “I was just on my way out,” the voodoo priestess answered.
    Was that true, or had she made the sudden plans when she’d seen him and Eugenia?
    “We’ll only keep you a minute,” he answered. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
    “I had enough of that from the police last night,” she snapped, then seemed to make an effort to calm herself.
    Rafe nodded. “So did we. But it might be good if we touched bases.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’d say the cops are focused on you and Eugenia, and the