Roman’s gaze snapped to Kir’s, the same shock Kir felt like a living current beneath his skin reflected in his brother’s expression.

On the side of the street were two open parallel parking spots. Kir checked over his shoulder, then whipped his car into the slots and demanded, “What’s going on?”

“I know who tipped off the execs at the station. It’s a woman and she works at that address. She’s a costume designer and her name is Via Ricci, and I think she’s the same person who took a picture of us at André’s. The things is, Evette told me this morning that she and Emerson were going to see a costume designer about volunteer work for an upcoming fund-raiser. I think it’s the same woman and I think Evette was set up.”

“I’m calling her guards,” Roman said, taking out his phone.

Kir kept his focus on Cassie. “What do you mean you think it’s a setup?”

“Do you want details, or are you going to check on Evette and Emerson?” she bit back with an edge he’d never heard before.

He took the none too subtle jab, though, glanced over his shoulder and U-turned out of the parking space. “I’m driving. Roman’s calling her men. Now talk.”

Her sigh was one short on patience. “Short version—I’ve seen women while we’ve been out together I thought I recognized, but nothing ever triggered for me because they all looked different. Different hairstyles and hair colors. Different clothes. This morning, it all clicked—they’re all the same woman. She’s just wearing different disguises.”

“And you figured this out how?”

“Because once I pointed it out, Aunt Frieda recognized it, too, and it’s the same woman Lizbet interviewed for a special interest piece. I went to the station to see if Lizbet would share her source. I told her I thought her source was somehow tied to Alfonsi and had intentionally leaked my relationship to you as a means to shut me up and keep me from stumbling onto something I shouldn’t know.”

Pride blossomed behind his chest and the invisible fist gripping his lungs eased just a fraction. Rather than put the family at risk by sharing Kevin’s murder, she’d cleverly spun the truth to give her request more credence. “Did she give you her name?”

“No. But after I told her I’d give her the story if what I suspected panned out, she gave me enough clues to figure it out on my own. Her name is Via Ricci and she’s a costume designer. One who does a lot of stuff for Mardi Gras and masquerades.”

And the anonymous tip that had cost Cassie her job had come from the Midsummer Masquerade. The connection made sense.

Roman barked something low at whoever was on the other end of his call and frowned.

Not good.

“And the tie to Evette?”

“She came to the carriage house this morning and invited me to visit a costume designer with her. She said the lady called her a few weeks ago about volunteering her time for an upcoming charity event Evette is overseeing. If I’m a person who’s out to get revenge on Sergei, who are the top two people in this world you’d target?”