Saria’s eyes met his. “Mahieu’s all right?” She couldn’t hide the question in her voice, or the sudden fear streaking across her transparent face, nor did she ask why he wanted the photographs of dead bodies.

Charisse gulped, her eyes widening until they looked like two drenched pansies pressed into her face. “Of course he’s all right. Why wouldn’t he be all right?” He saw her intelligence then, the quick mind fitting pieces of a puzzle together. “What’s goin’ on? Tell me right now if it has somethin’ to do with Mahieu.”

The crybaby was gone. In her place was a thinking, sharp woman. She bruI did away the tears and looked him right in the eye. “Tell me.”

“What do you know about opium?” Drake asked, his voice quiet.

Saria had leapt to her feet, but she paused, turning back toward them. Charisse blinked. Frowned. Her gaze never left Drake’s. She leaned toward him. “Quite a lot, actually. I study plants, but what would that have to do with Mahieu?”

Her voice was quite steady. Almost a challenge. As if he dared accuse Mahieu of anything and she might leap forward and claw out his eyes.

“Where are the soaps made for your company?”

Charisse frowned. “In New Orleans. We have a factory right there.”

“Do you ever go there?”

“No. I have nothing to do with production. I work in my own laboratory developin’ scents. What does this have to do with Mahieu—or opium?”

“Do you, personally, grow your plants?”

“In the greenhouse only. I experiment with developin’ different hybrids for scents there.”

“And the gardens in the swamp?”

“We have workers for that.”

“Who? Specifically?”

Charisse frowned. “I don’t know. We have a foreman. I don’t talk to him myself. Armande or my mother handles that. I have enough to do in the laboratory. In any case, I never go out in the swamp. Sometimes I meet Saria at the picnic area and . . .” Her gaze darted to Saria. “And Evangeline meets me there.”

“But never men.”

“In the swamp?” Charisse’s horror was genuine. She looked down at her clothes and gave a delicate shudder. “Never.”

“What about when you allow your leopard out?”

She flushed a deep red. “She’s never come out. That’s why my mother said I was useless. Armande has a leopard, but mine has never emerged. I tried to tell my mother she was there inside of me, but my mother is embarrassed and humiliated that I can’t shift. She says I’m a disgrace.” Charisse gave a little sniff.