Page 58 of Steal My Heart
My name lands on the trumpeter.Ellis Harrell.
I glance back up at Maks, who looks like he wants to say something. “Out with it.”
“There are too many coincidences around this woman.”
“You don’t believe in coincidences,” I remind him.
“I don’t,” he agrees.
“Remi had a connection to Ellis, who had a connection to Sienna, who had a connection to Fabien,” I think out loud. “Have any of them visited Fabien in prison?” If he says Remi, well, I don’t want to eventhinkabout what I’ll do if he says Remi.
“No. Your brother’s had no social visits, except for you and Al.”
“Phone calls with any of them?” I press.
Maks shakes his head. “No.”
“Then for now, we treat it as a coincidence. What have you learned about Remi’s arrest?”
Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he slides over her arrest warrants.
We received information from our Confidential Informant that an organized pickpocket ring was working the French Quarter…
“Who ratted her out?” I ask.
“I don’t know who the C.I. was,” Maks says.
Continuing reading, I learn Remi was busted lifting a large sum of cash from an undercover officer as a part of a sting operation. Additional charges were picked up when she attempted to flee the scene.
My fingers drum on my desk before I announce, “No more digging before the party. I don’t want attention brought to Remi, and potentially, my connection to her.”
Maks nods. “Understood. And what of this ex-boyfriend of Remi’s? Both Ellis and the piano guy go missing before the party, it’ll look suspicious,” he warns me.
I hold up my hand, stopping him in his worried tracks. “Ellis will play the show.”
His final performance.
Chapter Eighteen
Remi
“Oww.” My alarm clock, also known as Nola, pounces on my head. “Come on! I was out late; let me sleep in,” I whine.
Shemeows.
“Nosy. You want to know what happened last night.” My eyes protest as I peel them open. “Oh.” The guest bedroom is filled to the brim with carnations. Hundreds upon hundreds of red carnations in beautiful crystal vases.
I grab the note on the tray with the espresso and pastry, nearly knocking off two framed photos.
I’ll let you keep your favorite photo of mine if I get to keep my favorite photo of yours.
~ Angelo
In one frame is Angelo’s cobblestone street photograph, and in another is a photograph of…my jaw drops. It’s a photo of mefrom last night on stage. A look of pure bliss on my face, I’m lost in the music.
“See, Nola. I told you this man was a big problem. Look how smooth he is, trying to make me forget about rule number three!”
She acts like she doesn’t understand, which frustrates me to no end. “You want me to get my heart broken? Because I’ll never be the kind of woman that gives Angelo Calvani an ‘air of legitimacy.’ Oh, but I know a guy who can help you hotwire a car. Or another who can fence just about any piece of stolen jewelry. Or how about the woman with the food truck who sells beignets and weed, which is actually a smart business model,” I muse. Shaking my head, I announce, “I’m off topic; my point is, those are my social connections!”
