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10
Tulane-Gravier, New Orleans, Louisiana
TUESDAY, JULY 26, 2:15 P.M.
Excuse me, sir.” Ashley stood in the doorway to Lamont’s office, her expression uncertain.
Because Joelle was sitting in one of his visitor chairs, having finally roused herself from her stupor and charged past Ashley’s desk and into his office to demand why he’d sprayed her perfume all over the bed in his study at home. His wife hadn’t bought his excuse of wanting the room to smell like her.
Apparently, she really had been suspecting that he was having an affair with Ashley. At least Ashley had gone home to shower. She now smelled like her own perfume, lighter and less cloying than Joelle’s.
Which Joelle knew because she’d sniffed Ashley on her way in. Because of course she had.
“What is it, Ashley?” he asked, grateful for the interruption.
“You’ve got a call on line one. I tried to let you know, but the intercom is turned off.”
He glanced at the intercom on his desk. Sure enough, it was turned off and Joelle’s expression had become smug. Bitch. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I must have knocked it by mistake. Did you get a name?”
“No, sir. The man wouldn’t give one, but he said it was urgent. Something about the cold case you’ve been working.”
He managed to control his frown. The only cold case he was currently working was his own. And as soon as Cornell Eckert killed Xavier Morrow, that case could close. Of course, there was still the question of why Paul Lott was driving from Houston to New Orleans, but the lawyer hadn’t returned his call yet.
Lott wouldn’t be protecting Xavier. Unless he’s double-crossed us.
“Tell him to give me a minute to conclude this meeting with my wife.”
Ashley closed the door and Joelle turned on him. “You are not dismissing me.”
He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, because the bitch was giving him a headache, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d gotten under his skin. “This is my place of business, Joelle. I’m happy to continue this conversation at home later, but now I have to do my job.” He rose, walked around his desk, and yanked her to her feet. “You have to go.”
She opened her mouth to argue, based on the set of her mouth, but he leaned in and whispered, “Don’t make me call a guard to escort you out. It demeans us both. And it’ll be on the front page of the society section before you’re out the door.”
That got her attention. Joelle hated the thought of being ridiculed by society. Funny, because those same people would have been hiring her to serve their guests at parties wearing a French maid costume before he’d married her.
She twisted out of his grip because he allowed it. “I’ll see you at home.” A sly smirk tilted her lips. “And I’ll show you the footage.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “The what?”
She just smiled wider. He used to like that smile. Now it reminded him of a viper. “Didn’t I tell you? I had security cameras installed in that little room off your study. I imagine my attorney will find it most illuminating.”
He gritted his teeth. “What do you want, Joelle?”
Her smile disappeared. “I want you to break up with that whore.”
Oh, you are so going to die. And I’m going to make it hurt. A lot.Divorce was way too good for her. That he had to wait until after he was elected to deal with her made him even angrier. “As you wish.”
She laughed. “See? Was that so hard? I want her fired, too.”
Bitch, bitch, bitch.“That may be harder to do.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Find a way, Monty.”
She knew he hated to be called that. He forced his clenched fist to loosen. “Yes, dear.”
With a flourish, she was out of the room, closing the door behind her. He took a moment to wonder what she was saying to Ashley. Then realized that there wasn’t anything he could do to help Ashley now. He’d find a nice place for her to work in one of the other offices and he’d hire himself a new secretary. A pretty one.
At least he wouldn’t have to kill this mistress to keep the secret from this wife.
