reading something on her computer screen as he walked over to the beige couch in front of the massive stone hearth. He observed the logs on the hearth , and was debating the benefits of starting a fire when he spotted a selection of books stacked at the edge of the coffee table in front of him. He began going through the pile of books, and was about halfway into the collection when he spotted the familiar green cover of Painting Jenny .
Dallas’s fists clenched as he looked down at Nicci Beauvoir’s tale of her time with the artist David Alexander. He placed the book to the side, and then his heart heaved when he saw the next book sitting in the stack. Unfinished Business by Nicci Beauvoir was her second novel about the search for David Alexander’s killer in post-Katrina New Orleans. Nicci had based the main character, August Daniels, on Dallas. He picked the book up in his hands and sat back on the couch, staring at the pale blue cover and thinking of the hours he had watched Nicci writing the novel. He thought of Nicci’s auburn hair against the pillow next to him, the smell of her pale skin, and the feel of her in his arms.
“Good book?” Gwen asked beside him, rousing him from his recollections.
Dallas turned to her, trying to sequester his thoughts safely away from her prying eyes. He looked back to the copy of Unfinished Business in his hands.
“I, ah, read it a while ago,” he replied as he set the book down on the coffee table.
Gwen came around the side of the couch and leaned over the coffee table, perusing the cover of the book. “Hard to think you would be interested in something like that. Figured you to be more of a crime and murder reader, not romantic suspense.”
Dallas sat back on the couch. “I knew the author,” he softly said.
Gwen gave him a brief going over with her eyes. “Nicci Beauvoir? I heard she was seeing an art dealer I knew and was somehow involved in his death.”
Dallas nodded. “She and Greg Caston had some kind of lover’s spat and she shot him. Then she turned the gun on herself.”
“From what I remember of Nicci, she was never the kind to kill herself. She was a very practical and intelligent young woman. I thought the whole murder-suicide scenario sounded just a bit contrived.”
Dallas stared at Gwen in astonishment. “You knew Nicci Beauvoir?”
“When I was married to Doug, I met Nicci a few times. Like I told you before, I know Lance and I had met his brother, Bill, when he and Nicci attended a few of the social functions in town.” She paused and studied Dallas. “And how did you know Nicci?”
He waved his hand to the books on the coffee table. “We met in New York when she was promoting her first book, Painting Jenny. ”
“I never pegged you for a romantic, Dallas.” She sat down next to him on the beige couch. “From the look on your face, I would say you and Nicci were pretty close.”
Dallas stood from the couch and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “There was nothing between Nicci and me. We met, I helped her out of a tight spot, and then she went on with her life.” He moved away from the couch and headed for the stairs.
“From the way I heard it, you two shacked up together in Connecticut after she shot that shrink, Michael Fagles.”
Dallas paused and turned back to her. “How did you know that?”
“New Orleans is a real small town, Dallas.”
“Like I said, there was nothing between us.”
“You know the problem with secrets, Dallas?”
Dallas cast his eyes to the floor, scowling. “No, but I guess you’re going to tell me.”
“Secrets have a price. You keep something bottled up inside of you long enough and eventually it takes its toll. I would say you’re a man who keeps a lot locked away inside of you.” She smiled as she got up from the couch. “And by the looks of it, I’d say you are paying a hell of a price.”
“And what price are you paying, Gwen? From what I hear, you have a hell of a lot
Dallas’s fists clenched as he looked down at Nicci Beauvoir’s tale of her time with the artist David Alexander. He placed the book to the side, and then his heart heaved when he saw the next book sitting in the stack. Unfinished Business by Nicci Beauvoir was her second novel about the search for David Alexander’s killer in post-Katrina New Orleans. Nicci had based the main character, August Daniels, on Dallas. He picked the book up in his hands and sat back on the couch, staring at the pale blue cover and thinking of the hours he had watched Nicci writing the novel. He thought of Nicci’s auburn hair against the pillow next to him, the smell of her pale skin, and the feel of her in his arms.
“Good book?” Gwen asked beside him, rousing him from his recollections.
Dallas turned to her, trying to sequester his thoughts safely away from her prying eyes. He looked back to the copy of Unfinished Business in his hands.
“I, ah, read it a while ago,” he replied as he set the book down on the coffee table.
Gwen came around the side of the couch and leaned over the coffee table, perusing the cover of the book. “Hard to think you would be interested in something like that. Figured you to be more of a crime and murder reader, not romantic suspense.”
Dallas sat back on the couch. “I knew the author,” he softly said.
Gwen gave him a brief going over with her eyes. “Nicci Beauvoir? I heard she was seeing an art dealer I knew and was somehow involved in his death.”
Dallas nodded. “She and Greg Caston had some kind of lover’s spat and she shot him. Then she turned the gun on herself.”
“From what I remember of Nicci, she was never the kind to kill herself. She was a very practical and intelligent young woman. I thought the whole murder-suicide scenario sounded just a bit contrived.”
Dallas stared at Gwen in astonishment. “You knew Nicci Beauvoir?”
“When I was married to Doug, I met Nicci a few times. Like I told you before, I know Lance and I had met his brother, Bill, when he and Nicci attended a few of the social functions in town.” She paused and studied Dallas. “And how did you know Nicci?”
He waved his hand to the books on the coffee table. “We met in New York when she was promoting her first book, Painting Jenny. ”
“I never pegged you for a romantic, Dallas.” She sat down next to him on the beige couch. “From the look on your face, I would say you and Nicci were pretty close.”
Dallas stood from the couch and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “There was nothing between Nicci and me. We met, I helped her out of a tight spot, and then she went on with her life.” He moved away from the couch and headed for the stairs.
“From the way I heard it, you two shacked up together in Connecticut after she shot that shrink, Michael Fagles.”
Dallas paused and turned back to her. “How did you know that?”
“New Orleans is a real small town, Dallas.”
“Like I said, there was nothing between us.”
“You know the problem with secrets, Dallas?”
Dallas cast his eyes to the floor, scowling. “No, but I guess you’re going to tell me.”
“Secrets have a price. You keep something bottled up inside of you long enough and eventually it takes its toll. I would say you’re a man who keeps a lot locked away inside of you.” She smiled as she got up from the couch. “And by the looks of it, I’d say you are paying a hell of a price.”
“And what price are you paying, Gwen? From what I hear, you have a hell of a lot
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