Around the World with the Millionaire
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Nina Singh
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CHAPTER ONE
A PIECE WAS MISSING. A very valuable piece.
Zeke Manning pulled out the inventory list that had originally been prepared for him when the estate was first appraised years ago. Then he compared it once again to the items on the antique mahogany desk in front of him. Yep, something was very, very wrong.
Biting off a curse, he brushed a wayward strand of hair off his forehead. He was here as a personal favor. As the owner of his firm, he never really did fieldwork as an estate attorney anymore. This was supposed to be a quick and easy task coupled with a friendly visit to one of his grandmother’s oldest and dearest friends. But now it appeared he had a problem on his hands.
Hopefully, it was merely a simple misunderstanding. Maybe Esther knew exactly where the antique necklace was. She might even have it on her person and had merely neglected to tell him. Esther wasn’t remembering much of anything these days.
Well, there was only one way to find out. With a sigh of resignation, Zeke made his way out of the study and toward the parlor, where Esther Truneau, patriarch of the once prominent and highly regarded Truneau family of New Orleans, was taking her afternoon tea.
He arrived to find one of the housemaids pouring tea for her out of a delicate ceramic teapot into a porcelain cup. The aroma of fresh-brewed Earl Grey hovered in the air.
“Hello, Esther,” he said after clearing his throat to get her attention. He’d found out the hard way upon his arrival that she was rather easily startled.
She looked up from her cup upon hearing his voice. Zeke paused and waited for the confusion in her eyes to clear. When it finally did, a warm smile spread over her lips.
“Zeke, dear. I’d forgotten you were here.”
Zeke made sure to hide his concern. He’d suspected as much. He’d have to follow up with a medical professional to make sure she was getting the proper care and attention for what he suspected had begun a while ago. Returning her smile, he pulled out a newly upholstered chair across from where she was sitting on a love seat.
Without asking, the young lady waiting on her retrieved a cup from the bottom of the serving cart and poured for him. She set the tea on the coffee table by his side, then gave him a quick smile before leaving the room.
“Esther,” he began, his focus fully on the matron who had been one of his beloved grandmother’s dearest friends for decades. “I was hoping we might have a little chat.”
“Of course, dear. It’s so nice of you to visit. Are you in New Orleans on a business trip, then?”
This wasn’t good. She’d clearly forgotten the reason he was here. Suddenly, his trip to New Orleans had gone from performing a quick favor for his grandmother’s dearest friend to a wellness check that would require further follow-up. As far as he knew, Esther had no relatives in the States.
He leaned forward to make sure he had her full attention. “Esther, you asked me here, remember? After speaking with my grandmother.”
She blinked up at him in confusion. Which was answer enough, of course. Finally, she seemed to gather some clarity.
“Oh, yes. Norma mentioned you were coming. That was today, then, was it?”
Zeke summoned his patience and responded as gently as he could. “It’s today. That’s right. You asked if I would come over and inventory the house and other properties to get an updated valuation of the estate.”
Esther blinked again. “I did?”
Zeke nodded. “Yes. After speaking with Norma.”
“I know Norma!” She clapped her hands together then patted his knee. “You’re her grandson, aren’t you? She looked after you and your sister.”
Zeke couldn’t believe this was turning into an unwanted trip down memory lane. He simply nodded.
“She was so intimidated, you know,” Esther continued. “I remember her telling me how anxious she was about having to raise two preteens at her advanced age. We spoke on the phone about it almost daily.”
“She did quite well with us,” Zeke answered, not voicing the added thought that Grandmother had done much better than her daughter, who had abandoned Zeke and his sibling after destroying the family.
“Norma said you could help me get my affairs in order with the house.”
“That’s why I’m here, Esther,” Zeke said, as gently as he could manage.
“How kind of you. Carry on, then.”
Zeke cleared his throat. “Esther, we need to have a chat first.”
“A chat about what exactly, dear?”
“Your estate. Or to be more specific, some of the pieces that belong to the estate.”
“Pieces?”
How was he to put this without making her overly upset? Zeke couldn’t guess how it might have happened, but Esther had managed to lose an extremely valuable item. Or it had somehow been taken. Not the kind of news he relished delivering to a nice little old lady. “Yes, I’m afraid I’ve run into something of a snag. An item is missing, Esther. A very valuable item.”
Some clarity seemed to appear in the blue depths of her eyes. “Valuable, you say?”
“Very valuable.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of piece?”
“Jewelry. A necklace from sixteenth-century France. Your records say it had been passed through several generations of the Truneau family. I’m afraid there’s no sign of it in your possessions. While the paperwork says it should be right here in your house safe.”
Her eyes finally lost all signs of cloudiness and grew wide with shock. For the first time since Zeke had walked through Truneau Manor’s doors this morning, Esther appeared completely lucid.
“Oh, dear. That’s quite bad, isn’t it?”
Zeke took her hand gently and patted it reassuringly.
“I’m sure it was a simple misunderstanding. Probably merely a mistake,” he insisted in an attempt to quell her fears. He hadn’t meant to alarm her.
“I just need your help to determine exactly what might have happened to it.”
She blinked at him once more. “Of course.”
“Can you think of the last time you might have seen it?” As clichéd as the question seemed, Zeke figured it wasn’t a bad way to start an investigation.
Esther shrugged, her forehead scrunched in concentration. “All the valuable jewelry is always under constant lock and key. Only taken out to be polished, which I only allow my most trusted staff to do. People I’ve employed for decades.”
First off, he would need to look into all her staff members. He really didn’t want to get the authorities involved until he was a bit clearer as to what was going on here, exactly. And there were other avenues to explore still.
“I see. Is there a chance you might have lent it out?” he asked her. “Temporarily? To a gallery or museum perhaps?”
Esther immediately shook her head. “Oh, no. I don’t lend out valuables.”
Zeke racked his mind for another avenue to pursue when her next words stopped him. And they sent alarm bells ringing in his head.
Without any irony whatsoever, Esther added, “I have been known to give things away occasionally, however.”
Fifteen minutes later, Zeke had a name and was looking at a photo online of a dark-haired, brown-eyed woman with shoulder-length curly hair. She wore dramatically dark eyeliner and appeared to be in her mid-to-late twenties.
All in all, she looked like she might very well fit the type. A type he knew all too well. If Zeke’s suspicions were correct, he was looking at a photo of the kind of person who would take and take until there was no more left to give.
“I’m almost positive he’ll propose this weekend. What do you think, Vivi?”
Vivienne Ducarne flipped six cards in a semicircle on the velvet table cover between her and the client who came in every Thursday for a reading. Sally’s question this morning was the same as it had been all too often in the past.
“Well, let’s look at what the cards say, shall we?”
Sally McNeill had become a regular customer over the last several months, ever since meeting Lance. Or was it Luke? Vivi knew she should pay better attention, but the man’s name hardly seemed to matter. Sally usually referred to him as her stud muffin.
Sally had made her way into Lucien’s Magic Shop and Gift Store the morning after their first blind date to see where things might lead between them. So far, the two of them had been enjoying a whirlwind romance according to Sally’s rather TMI descriptions. The woman was more than ready for the relationship to move on to the next level. Vivi didn’t have the heart to tell her that she just didn’t see that happening in any of her readings so far.
Of course, she wasn’t about to tell Sally that. Not directly, anyway. It would crush the other woman’s excitement. Why dash her hopes?
Vivi pointed to a card in the center. “The Empress. That card could mean a few different things.”
The other woman released a long sigh. “Ooh, like what?”
“Well, in your case, I think it means a strengthening of bonds. Growth in your relationships in general.”
Sally clapped her hands in front of her chest. “That’s great. I knew it!”
Before Sally could get too worked up, Vivi pointed to the card right of center. “The Seven of Pentacles. That’s something of a cautionary card.”
Sally’s eyebrows drew together. “Cautionary?”
“It usually refers to patience and perseverance. A message not to try and rush things, but approach matters with more of a long-term mindset.”
Sally seemed to deflate in her chair, her smile faltering. “Huh. Long-term?”
Vivi merely nodded.
“So what do you think, then, Vivi?” Sally repeated. She asked that question a lot, in fact.
Vivi tapped her chin. “I think you’re in store for some good tidings coming your way. A lot to look forward to.”
Just like that, the smile reappeared.
“The cards seem to be advising you to try and be a bit patient. For now,” Vivi reassured her.
Ten minutes later, after some more questions from Sally and a bit of random chitchat, her customer left. Sally seemed content with what fate had chosen to show her today through the tarot cards. A lot of folks looked down upon oracle cards, such as tarot or runes, even in a city as spiritual as New Orleans. But Vivi saw it as a craft, an art almost. Not only did Vivi interpret what the cards displayed in a manner that felt relevant to her clients, but she also knew she was just as talented at providing conversation or simple reassurance. Sometimes, her clients just needed someone to talk to.
Esther Truneau came to mind. Vivi had been giving the nice old lady personal readings for the last several months. Sometimes she wondered if Vivi was the only source of meaningful human contact the older woman had in her life. Her staff seemed to mostly ignore her when Vivi was there.
Vivi packed up the cards and started tidying the shop. It was a pretty slow day, with not too many shoppers strolling in, and Sally had been her only prebooked appointment.
The chimes above the door sounded as someone entered.
Vivi looked up with a smile to greet the customer—finally, some action. Slow days bored her to tears.
Her breath caught in her throat before she could offer a greeting. The man walking in was strikingly handsome. Which was saying a lot for someone who worked in a magic-and-gift shop in the heart of one of the world’s most famous cities. This area drew visitors from all over the world.
Tall with jet-black hair and chestnut eyes, he had a strong jawline and ruggedly sharp cheekbones. He wasn’t overly muscular, but was fit and toned.
He obviously wasn’t any kind of typical tourist. That much was abundantly clear. Dressed in a black collared shirt, which appeared to be silk, with pressed gray pants that had a perfect crease line, he seemed to fit the picture of an accomplished, successful businessman.
So what was someone like him doing in a quaint tourist trap of a shop in the middle of the morning? Had he gotten lost on his way to a high-powered acquisition meeting?
Vivi shook off the beginning of a giggle and cleared her throat. “May I help you find something, sir?”
His eyes narrowed on her and she suddenly had the strange urge to duck behind the nearest counter. A shiver of iciness ran along her spine. His gaze was clearly not a friendly one. And he certainly didn’t appear to like what he was looking at.
She wasn’t imagining it. She didn’t even need her so-called “seer” skills to be able to tell as much.
Working hard not to bristle at his hostility, she forced a smile on her lips. “Was there something in particular you were looking for?”
“Oh, I’d say so,” he answered with a cryptic clip in his tone.
What was that supposed to mean? “I beg your pardon?”
“Are you Vivienne Ducarne?” he asked without any hint of cordiality.
Vivi’s heart pounded in her chest. He had to be a cop, maybe a detective. But why would an officer of the law be dressed as impeccably as he was?
Ha! Like that was the most pressing question she had at the moment. A better one would be what would a cop want with her?
Her days of hiding from the law were well in her past. She’d left that part of her life behind years ago, when she’d finally cleaned up her act and wised up enough to dump the charming yet toxic ex-boyfriend who’d led her down so many objectionable paths. There was absolutely no reason she could think of as to why a law-enforcement officer might be seeking her out at this moment in time.
But she realized her mistaken assumption the more she studied him. Now that she took a good look at him, she knew one thing for certain. He was no cop. Every inch of him screamed that he was a professional man with privilege and clout. Just the pants he was wearing would probably cover a beat cop’s monthly salary.
So if his visit wasn’t about her past, what was it about?
He was staring back at her just as intently. That’s right—he’d asked her a question. Her name. He was still waiting for an answer.
“My friends call me Vivi. So you can call me Vivienne. Not that it’s any of your business.” She had a question or two of her own. “And who might you be?”
“The name is Zeke Manning. Esquire.”
An attorney. She should have known. She’d had to interact with more than enough criminal lawyers in her lifetime. But something told her criminal law wasn’t this man’s specialty.
“What can I do for you, exactly, Mr. Manning? I gather you’re not here for a tarot reading?”
“A what?” He gave his head a shake. “Never mind. You gather correctly. That’s not why I’m here.”
She tilted her head in his direction, the perfect picture of unaffected patience. But inside, she was a trembling mess. This stranger really had her rattled. The last time someone had looked at her so accusingly, so disdainfully, she’d been a scared teen at the full mercy of the court.
It also didn’t help matters that the man looked like something out of a cologne ad in a high-end magazine.
“Then please enlighten me.”
“For one, you can start by handing over that which doesn’t belong to you.”
Vivi summoned all her will and strength to try and get her rapid heartbeat under control. Who was this man? And who did he think he was talking to?
Well, if he thought he could intimidate her, he had another think coming. Vivi had survived and prevailed against far scarier people in her lifetime. Not to downplay his sheer presence, but she knew how to handle bullies.
And this man was clearly trying to bully her.
“I have no idea what you may be referring to, Mr. Manning.” That was the absolute truth. The days of being accused of any kind of crime were well in her rearview mirror. Or so she’d thought. “But I think I’d like you to leave.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I can come back with the proper authorities.”
What the...? Authorities? What was his game? She’d done nothing wrong! Not in the recent past, anyway. And she’d absolutely paid her dues for all that had come before.
Anger and frustration raged inside of her. Along with what she had to admit was a mild curiosity. What in heaven’s name was he referring to, exactly? She really shouldn’t care. The sooner she got him out of the store, the better she could breathe. He was starting to make her feel really unsettled.
“Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Come back if you feel you must. With whoever you wish to bring.” She managed to fill her voice with false bravado somehow, though the prospect of seeing this man again was making her shudder. She wanted to kick herself for feeling even the slightest bit intimidated. She’d handled far worse in her lifetime, including tense questioning in dimly lit rooms by trained officers. There was no reason for this man to make her feel quite so shaken up. It was hard not to feel those old insecurities and fears bubble up to the surface when confronted, but she forced them away.
“But right now, I’d like you gone.”
She would not be hassled here, of all places. Lucien’s Magic Shop was one of her safe spots. A second home. A haven. It had been so for years. She would not allow this man to desecrate the sacredness of this store.
Too late, a little voice whispered in her mind’s ear. The voice was right, of course. She could hardly deny that she was rattled.
Lucien chose that moment to step out from the inventory room, a grave look of concern marking his face. “Vivi? Is everything all right? Is this man bothering you?”
She must have raised her voice when she’d asked this Zeke to leave. Vivi sent a reassuring smile in Lucien’s direction. The last thing she wanted was for things to escalate and have her boss involved in some type of altercation.
Something told her Zeke Manning wouldn’t shirk away from a fight, physical or otherwise. Lucien wasn’t exactly in his prime, or the violent type.
“He was just leaving,” she said with clear force, shifting her gaze back to Zeke.
He appeared ready to argue, staring at Lucien intently. Then he gave his head a brisk shake.
Zeke Manning’s next words did nothing to alleviate her disquiet, however. “Fine. I’ll go for now. But trust me, this isn’t over.”
He might have overdone it.
Zeke poured an inch of bourbon into a glass from his hotel room’s well-stocked bar rack and contemplated the day’s events. Perhaps he’d been a bit overzealous in confronting the young lady. He probably should have called a colleague more familiar with this sort of thing. It’s not as if he practiced criminal law. His specialty was in estate and trust planning, a completely different field.
Ms. Ducarne’s face kept reappearing in his mind’s eye. Her expression was as clear as if she stood in front of him at this very moment. If he didn’t know any better, he might say she’d looked scared.
Or maybe she was just a good actress and he was being influenced by a pretty face. A very pretty face. It had shocked him when he’d first walked into the shop just how attractive she was. The photos he’d found online had not done her justice. She had striking features—dark, almond-shaped eyes and curves in all the right places.
It had thrown him off, he had to admit.
Damn it.
He had no reason to feel guilty. Even if he had been a bit over-the-top. A highly valuable antique was missing. Just because Vivienne Ducarne was attractive didn’t mean something ugly hadn’t gone down involving her and Esther. Zeke owed it to his grandmother—and to Esther—to uncover the mystery.
He just might have if the shop owner hadn’t shown up at that moment. Zeke had never been afraid of a fight and had gotten into more than a few skirmishes in his lifetime. The man had certainly looked ready to defend his employee in any way necessary, despite having several years on him. Not that Zeke could blame him, given what the man must have been thinking if he’d overheard them. At that point, Zeke had figured the best thing to do was leave. He could have told the shop owner the truth about why he was there, but something made him hesitate. He hadn’t been quite ready to jeopardize Vivienne’s livelihood right then and there. Esther had given Vivienne the necklace, after all.
This isn’t over.
He’d actually uttered those very words as a parting warning before he left. How utterly dramatic. Like a scene out of a bad movie.
Still, he refused to feel remorseful. He’d learned the hard way, more than once, that when it came to a certain type of person—the type that had no qualms about taking advantage of others—it was always better to be safe rather than sorry.
Zeke had seen it firsthand, starting when he was only a child, how letting one’s guard down could not only destroy the life of those most gullible, but also everyone else within range.
To be trusting was to play the fool.
Zeke had no doubt in his mind that Ms. Ducarne was exactly the type who should make others wary. Sure, he could have handled things better today. But the facts were the facts. Vivienne Ducarne had somehow finagled her way into being gifted a near priceless piece of jewelry.
Well, there was one way to find out exactly what kind of person she was. It was high time he called in a professional.
Zeke pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his contact list. He only called Bill Wolfson under the most pressing of circumstances. And the current scenario certainly seemed to qualify.
The other man answered on the first ring. “Wasn’t expecting a call from you, Ezekiel. What’s on the horizon, then?”
Bill was one of the few people who insisted on using Zeke’s proper name. He’d long ago accepted it as just another of the man’s many quirks. Along with the catch phrase he often used: What’s on the horizon, then?
“I could use your help to get to the bottom of something.”
“Hmm. Kind of figured that or you wouldn’t be calling. Any specifics?”
Right. Bill was the type where if you didn’t get right to the point, he would be sure to call you on it.
“I have a name I’d like you to investigate. Along with her place of employment.”
Zeke heard the other man’s resigned sigh over the tiny speaker. “And I don’t suppose you’re willing to share anything more than that? Like why I’m looking into this person?”
“Not just yet. I’ll text you the info you need for now.”
Bill didn’t have any more questions. They’d worked together for a long time now. Knew each other fairly well.
Zeke clicked off the call and dropped his phone on the hotel-room bureau. There, he felt better already. Bill would be able to uncover some answers for him. Hopefully it wouldn’t even take that long. Zeke had enough going on between his responsibilities at the firm and his latest investments. Not to mention the French-winery acquisition that needed his focus before his trip to Provence. He didn’t need a headache like Vivienne Ducarne right now.
Speaking of pressing responsibilities... Zeke picked up his cell phone again to check his latest emails and review updates on his pending projects. A message from his grandmother stood out among the others. She’d used several smiley-face emojis as her subject line. He clicked on the body of the message.
Hope you’re enjoying New Orleans. Thanks again for handling Esther’s affairs personally. She’s a true friend who has always been there whenever I needed her throughout the decades.
Zeke bit out a curse and sighed.
He supposed he could do some investigating on his own in the meantime while Bill did his own thing. Looked like he’d have to pay another visit to Lucien’s on Bourbon Street. The sooner, the better.
The magic store was closed when Zeke made his way back there three hours later. A strange feeling of disappointment swelled in his chest—a feeling he didn’t want to examine too closely. He was merely disappointed about having wasted his time coming here on a futile errand. He should have called first.
Zeke resisted the urge to swear out loud as his agitation grew. It had nothing to do with missing an opportunity to see her again. That would be downright silly. He’d only laid eyes on the woman for the span of a few short minutes. And their encounter could be described as contentious at best. Still, an image of Vivienne’s almond-shaped eyes and sparkling smile appeared in his mind’s eye, though her smile had faded when he’d confronted her.
No. This impulsive trip had nothing to do with her. He was here for one reason only. For Esther. To make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of.
Surprising, really. The shop seemed to be the only thing shut down as far as the eye could see. Around him the street bustled with both noisy tourists and what appeared to be locals. Jazzy music blared from every direction. A makeshift percussion band performed on the corner, using everything from large plastic buckets to aluminum cans. Neon lights lit up the night in every direction.
Bourbon Street seemed to have an energy Zeke would be hard-pressed to compare to anywhere else he’d been in his extensive travels. Sure, he’d visited New Orleans several times in the past. But he was usually at one business meeting after another before retiring to his hotel room in a quieter part of the French Quarter, only to do it all again the next day before he had to return to Manhattan.
Well, his fact-finding would have to wait another day, at least. Would she even be here if he came back tomorrow? He had no way of knowing if she worked every day. What sort of hours did tarot-card readers keep, anyway? To think, there were people out there who actually paid to have someone interpret what a bunch of cards meant as it pertained to their future. Just another grifter, as far as Zeke was concerned. It was a big clue into this Vivienne Ducarne’s character that she made her living off gullible people.
How did Vivienne even happen to meet Esther and grow close enough to the old woman that she was being given valuable jewelry as a gift?
Zeke shook his head in consternation. Perhaps the better question was, why was he so curious about her in the first place? He couldn’t deny that something about her had called to him. Even during their brief, rather volatile conversation, everything from her manner to her attire had piqued an interest that he felt rather confused about. His grandmother’s affection toward Esther aside, if he was smart, he would wish the elder lady the best, wrap up the appraisal of the estate as best he could and simply wait for Bill’s answers about the beguiling Ms. Ducarne while more qualified professionals dealt with the mystery of the missing necklace.
Whoa. Where had that come from? He was thinking of her as beguiling now?
That did it. He had to get out of this city. Maybe it was the bewitching atmosphere. New Orleans was known to have a certain mystical energy. That’s what the locals always said, anyway. He’d never given it much credence or thought, for that matter, that the city’s main attractions involved hexes and paranormal influences.
Or maybe it was simply the strong Louisiana bourbon he’d indulged in back in his hotel room. Zeke didn’t know. But he couldn’t even recall a previous time he’d ever described a woman as “beguiling.” It simply wouldn’t do.
He was going to drop this matter. Let the expert investigator deal with it. But as he was turning away from the store window, a colorful flyer caught his eye. A classic-looking tourist steamship floating on the majestic Mississippi River. The poster was an advertisement for a party cruise that featured dinner, an open bar and a live band.
But the image that really drew his attention was a black-and-white thumbnail-size photo at the bottom corner of the paper.
Ms. Vivienne Ducarne was apparently a part of the river-cruise entertainment being offered this evening.
