“He can’t do a thing like that. Publishing a sketch of mine that isn’t right, that I haven’t finished, would be unthinkable,” Arnaud protested. “I have a reputation, but more than that, I only show my best work—work I’m proud of. Those sketches last night were all wrong.”

“He’s dead, Arnaud,” Remy said as gently as he could through gritted teeth. “He won’t be publishing photographs anymore. I’m looking for the man or men who may have abducted him, took him out to the swamp and then murdered him.”

“At least he’s giving back to the planet and doing something constructive rather than hurting people like Bijou,” Arnaud said pragmatically. “He wasn’t a very good man, was he?”

Remy sighed. “I suppose not. But even men who aren’t worth much need someone to stand for them.”

“This isn’t working. Let’s try something else,” Arnaud said, ignoring, or not hearing Remy’s comment. “Will you allow me to put your head in the position I need you to be in?”

“I don’t have very much more time,” Remy said, glancing at his watch again.

“Just give me a couple more minutes,” Arnaud pleaded. “I know I can do this.” He jumped up, but it wasn’t jumping so much as gliding. He was very graceful, a man who under any circumstances, even when he was at his most frustrated, still seemed elegant.

He hurried around Remy and caught his chin, his touch almost gentle as he turned his head. The moment Arnaud put his fingers against Remy’s skin, Remy’s leopard raked and snarled, forcing Remy to breathe deep to keep control. He glanced down at the floor, at Arnaud’s beautifully polished immaculate dress shoes. Bits of grass and mud stuck, not to the shoes, but to one hem of his trousers. He registered the information and alarm spread. As he started to turn to face the threat, Remy felt a sting in his neck.

His leopard tried to protect him, leaping for the surface, a wave of fur moving under his skin, but the ketamine was fast acting on both of them.

* * *

BIJOU stood outside the Inn with Saria, admiring the full moon. “It sure is beautiful here, Saria. What a wonderful weddin’ gift Miss Pauline gave you. The location couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Especially for a leopard,” Saria agreed. “Miss Pauline was always in love with Amos Jeanmard. When his wife died, he married Miss Pauline, and she gave me the Inn.”

“I remember him. We used to have to hide from him when we were sneakin’ into the swamp at night.”