The Silver Lake Murder

by Gregg Matthews

  “OK,” Rose says, lifting her tray up putting it in the right spot.

  The food server splashes one scoop of mashed potatoes, one scoop of green beans, a scoop of ground beef, a piece of bread, and an apple into the separate indentations on the tray she is holding. Her stomach groans as she finds a seat at one of the long tables.

  The young woman she sits next to has long, blond, dreadlock style hair going down to the middle of her back. She is smaller than her. Her face and hands are dirty. She is wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. She has a bright, dirty smile. Her arms are covered with tattoos.

  “Hi, I’m Rose.”

  “Nola.”

  “This was a bad hurricane; a lot of people have lost their lives on this one. I heard the levees at the end of town broke,” Nola says with a Cajun southern accent.

  “Oh wow,” Rose says, not knowing what a levee is.

  “Yes, it was a big storm.”

  “Are you from New Orleans?” Rose says, hoping if she is from here, she will help her find Blake.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “Where are you from?” Nola asks.

  “Silver Lake it’s north of Boston, Massachusetts.”

  “Oh wow, that’s a long way away.”

  “Yes, it is. Me and Blake wanted to live somewhere where it is summertime all year long.”

  “I understand.”

  Looking at Nola’s arms, she knows right away Blake did the tattoo work on her. She hesitates to mention the detail but quickly realizes Nola may have seen Blake during or after the hurricane. She digs into her lunch while building up the courage to ask Nola a few more questions.

  “You look familiar to me, Rose. Have we met before?” Nola says.

  “Yes, I think so, Rivers Tattoo shop?” Rose says timidly.

  “Right, Rivers Tattoo shop, I saw you there,” Nola says without manners.

  She and Nola consume their lunch quickly, saving the apple for last. She and Nola bite into the apple simultaneously, making them both giggle at the crunching sounds.

  “My boyfriend Blake did your tattoo work, right?” Rose says chewing apple.

  “Right, he’s a great tattoo artist,” Nola says.

  “Oh, thank you for the compliment,” Rose says.

  “Where is he?” Nola says, looking around the room for him.

  “I don’t know we were separated by the hurricane; I have not seen him in months!” Rose says with her eyes filling with tears.

  “Oh, Rose,” Nola says.

  “Have you seen him since the hurricane?” Rose says through tears.

  “Yes, I think I have,” Nola says, deep in thought.

  “Where?” Rose shouts intensely.

  “I think I saw him in one of the lines for food a few months ago, but it was from a distance,” Nola says.

  Rose’s mind wanders, thinking about the last time she saw Blake. The last time she saw Blake alive, he was sitting at his drawing table in the tattoo shop on Bourbon Street, working on a large complex stencil for a customer’s new tattoo. There were several tattoo artists and customers in the process of giving and receiving new tattoos.

  She was on the computer behind the counter. The shop was in full swing, making money. There were some bad weather reports on the news feeds that kept getting worse. Not being from New Orleans, she did not take the news seriously. She never realized the strength of a hurricane in the south.

  When the storm hit the streets, all hell broke loose. The rain kept coming and over time, the city began to sink. As the storm raged on, the front windows to the shop broke and the shop was quickly flooded.

  She doesn’t remember all of what happened next. She remembers swimming and hanging on to the side of an old wooden boat. She was rescued by the National Guard and processed through many shelters to sleep and eat. Over time the storm faded and the rebuilding of the city began. That was the last time she saw Blake alive more than a few months ago.

  Nola saying, she saw Blake after the storm gives her hope Blake is alive.

  “Will you help me find him?” Rose asks.

  “Sure Rose, I will help you,” Nola says with a smile.

  CHAPTER 26

  Later in the day, Rose and Nola walk down Bourbon Street. Some of the bars and restaurants are open; most are in disrepair. The ones that are open have a makeshift kitchen in the front of them. The bar area is pouring drinks.

  The buildings she walks past have water lines up by the roof. She points to the water line and looks at Nola.

  “Yes, these buildings were underwater, Rose.”

  “Wow.”

  The noise of diesel engines cause Rose to jump. She feels the tug on her shoulder. Nola grabs her and moves her to the side of the street. As tow-trucks drive up and down Bourbon Street. The tow-trucks remove the disabled cars lining the streets. The tow-trucks have been running twenty-four hours a day since the hurricane subsided. There are abandoned and disabled cars all over the city. The tow trucks move the cars out to a vacant lot in the woods out of the way.

  Rose looks out over Bourbon Street; she looks at Nola and can tell she is about to say something.

  “Bourbon Street is thirteen blocks in the French Quarter, we need to stay in this area. If Blake is here, he might be doing the same thing—looking for you in this area,” Nola says with hope.

  “Okay, Nola.”

  “Rose, you walk south on Bourbon Street, on this side of the street.”

  “Okay, Nola.”

  “I will walk south on Bourbon Street on the other side of the street.”

  “Okay, Nola.”

  “Meet back here in one hour.”

  “Right.”

  Tired, and sore, Rose walks south down Bourbon Street carefully. The people look dangerous, and she knows they are out to take your money and anything of value. She has nothing and still doesn’t feel safe. Daylight time is the safest time to be out in the streets and she has a few more hours of daylight left. She can see the sun starting to set in the southern sky over the city. The people who hang around the street corners, are trying to get her attention. She keeps walking, keeping the distance to the shop in mind. She wants to stay close.

  Noticing another hour is up, she walks back to Rivers Tattoo shop at 704 Bourbon Street to meet Nola. She sees a dirty white sign with black letters spelling out Rivers Tattoo Shop. Looking at the shop, she sees it is an old wooden building that used to be a house but was converted into storefront years ago. There is a large window in the middle of the building. From the outside, you can see right into the middle of the shop. Before the hurricane, you could see several tattoo artists and several customers working together. The shop was a bright spot on a busy street.

  Now when she looks at the building, she can see the water line at the top. The building was submerged in water a few months back. The outside of the building has white paint and large patches missing and showing the wood. There are pieces of wood missing and some pieces of wood are hanging onto the front of the building. The large window in the front is broken. There is no glass left. Looters came in early after the hurricane and took anything of value. They finished knocking the window out to get in and out of the building faster.

  The front porch used to have furniture for customers to sit in. The furniture has been washed away from the storm. She sits on the front porch next to Nola, looking at the setting sun.

  “I’m exhausted,” Nola says.

  “Me too,” Rose says.

  “Right, it’s not safe on the streets, we better go hide for the night,” Nola says.

  Rose climbs in the front window of Rivers Tattoo shop and sits on one of the customer’s couches. She watches as Nola stacks some scrap wood next to the window. When there is enough wood, the scrap wood will be used to cover the large window. Nola sits on the couch next to her. Her stomach groans.

  “Nola, I’m starving,” Rose says.

  “I know where there is food,” Nola says.

 
“Where?”

  “Right down the street, I will be right back,” Nola says, climbing out the broken window of Rivers Tattoo shop.

  CHAPTER 27

  Blake is walking south on Bourbon Street. He watches the crowd of people walking up and down the streets. He is hoping not to attract any attention. He has too much to lose if what is in his backpack is discovered. He needs to get some shelter for the night.

  Blake walks past a used car lot with classic cars. The classic cars draw him into the car lot. The lot has Christmas lights strung around the small lot housing the ten cars for sale. Looking closer, the lights are lit by an old generator running on the side of a small shed, that has a sign reading, Office.

  The cars look clean and muscular. The engine of one of the cars is being revved by someone on the lot. The sound of the old engine causes goosebumps to appear on his arms. Blake thinks he will visit this car lot soon. Looking over, he sees an older gentleman tipping his hat and smiling. He has a wide space between his two front teeth. “Hey friend, we had these cars delivered the other day. They will be gone soon,” the older gentleman says with a Cajun southern accent.

  “They look good, I may be back soon,” Blake says, walking past the man.

  “Don’t take too long, friend.”

  “Right.”

  Continuing his walk towards 704 Bourbon Street, Rivers Tattoo shop. He sees a young woman with long, blond, dreadlock style hair going down to the middle of her back. She is small. Her face and hands are dirty. She is wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. She has a bright dirty smile. Her arms are covered with tattoos.

  “Hey, nice T-shirt,” the young woman says.

  “Thanks,” Blake says, walking past her.

  Staying focused on walking, his mind searches his memory, thinking he has met this young woman before. He stops walking and turns his head quickly, and can barely see the woman from behind because of the crowd of people.

  “Hey,” Blake shouts.

  Seeing the woman stop walking and turning her head, he waves for her to come back to him. He watches as she slowly walks up to him. He removes the bandana covering his face and the one covering his head. He pulls up the sun glasses he is wearing.

  “Do I know you?” Blake says.

  “Not sure,” Nola says.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Nola.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Blake Rivers.”

  “You did the tattoo work on my arms. I was at your shop with Rose.”

  “What?” Blake says, not believing what Nola said.

  “Yes, come on, I’ll take you there,” Nola says, grabbing one of Blake’s arms.

  Following Nola through the crowded streets, he walks quickly to keep up with her. His body is low on fuel. He has been surviving on protein bars for the last day or so. He can see Nola is walking excitedly, and he hopes she is not lying to him. Emotionally he is drained, the thought of finding Rose is overwhelming to him. Nola runs faster the closer she gets to Rivers Tattoo shop. He can hear Nola yelling the name Rose! Nola climbs in the broken window, and he follows her. Stepping into his tattoo shop for the first time in a month, he sees the couches and collapses into one of them. He doesn’t have the strength to shout Rose’s name. He lets Nola do the yelling.

  “Rose!” Blake tries to shout.

  Blake gives Nola a strange look like she was lying to him but doesn’t know why.

  “Were you lying to me?” Blake says angrily.

  “She was here a few minutes ago. We have been looking for you all day,” Nola says.

  Standing up, he walks around the shop. He can picture what Rose looked like and some of the last things he said to her. The shop was busy, the sun was shining and he was looking over at Rose. He struggled to stay focused on his work. The sunlight was hitting her face causing her to have a golden glow around her head. He remembers seeing her, like it was yesterday. So much has happened since then.

  His emotions get the better of him, and his eyes fill up with water. Thinking his mind is playing tricks on him, he sees a tattered frail version of Rose walk into the room from the back of the shop. This is the first time he has seen her in months.

  “Blake!” Rose shouts in disbelief.

  “Rose!” Blake shouts in disbelief.

  He and Rose stand in the middle of the tattoo shop, embracing. Nola walks over and joins them. There are a hundred different things he wants to ask her, but he decides to stay silent for a little while longer and enjoy the embrace.

  “Thanks, Nola,” Blake whispers.

  He, Rose, and Nola walk over and sit on the couches. He still has the backpack on his back. Emotionally he is in a place where he has never been before. He had not given up. Though he didn’t think he would ever see her again.

  “I thought I lost you for good, Rose,” Blake says holding hands with Rose.

  “Where have you been, Blake?”

  “I looked everywhere for you in New Orleans, but the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was so confusing. I went back to Silver Lake to look for you.”

  “Silver Lake?” Rose says in disbelief.

  “Yes, Silver Lake, Rose.”

  “How was Silver Lake?”

  “It’s a messed-up place, Rose. We can talk about Silver Lake later,” Blake says leaning on the backpack.

  “Okay.”

  “I am so relieved you are okay, Rose.”

  “I am so relieved you are okay, Blake.”

  Sitting on the couch, he and Rose continue their embrace into the night. The night settles in, and the three of them find a safer location in the building to sleep. Police sirens and noise from the helicopter’s flying overhead are heard throughout the night. People screaming and yelling with car horns going off are the last sounds he hears before he passes out for the night.

  CHAPTER 28

  Blake wakes up with the backpack under his head. His muscles are tight and sore. The sunshine is pouring in a side window; he needs to hold one of his hands up to block the sunshine from his eyes. He puts his sunglasses on and makes some decisions.

  There is no way they can stay here at Rivers Tattoo shop safely. The city of New Orleans is not policed properly and will take a long time to get back to normal. From what he has seen since coming back; the city is riddled with crime and is years away from recovering. The streets and buildings have been flooded out and underwater, the water damage is like nothing he has ever seen or experienced. It’s time to cut his losses on this shop and move on to a new location. The new Rivers Tattoo shop will be out west, someplace where it is summertime all year long.

  Looking over, he sees Rose and Nola are still sleeping. He quickly exits the shop. He has something he needs to do as soon as possible.

  Walking up Bourbon Street, he adjusts the heavy backpack. He walks north a couple of blocks until he reaches the used car lot he walked past yesterday. Looking over the classic cars for sale. A few of them stand out: a muscle car from the early seventies’ gold with black interior, an older red car with black interior, another white with black interior sports car, and a dark green with a black interior car looking like a bullet stands out the most. Looking deeper into the green car, he sees the Hurst shifter, the piece of paper with the details of the car on the dashboard shows a three-hundred-fifty-one Cleveland engine, is under the hood. The wide gator back rear tires are brand new.

  The older gentleman tipping his hat and smiling, a wide space between his two front teeth.

  “Hey friend, what can I do for you?” the man says

  “Looking for a good car.”

  “Well, I like this one the best. I can get you a good deal on it,” the man says, pointing to the dark green car.

  Turning the engine over and revving it lets him know the car is functioning properly. Not having time for a test drive, he quickly makes a cash deal with the man. He takes the title of the car and in return gives the man the agreed amount of cash.

&n
bsp; Driving off the car lot with the backpack in the trunk, Blake pulls the car up to the front of the Rivers Tattoo shop. He gets out of the car and walks to the front of the shop. He climbs in the broken window. He looks over at the front of the shop and sees Rose and Nola sitting on the couches, taking in the morning sunlight.

  “Get your things Rose, we are leaving,” Blake says intently.

  “I don’t have anything.” She responds.

  “You are welcome to join us, Nola.”

  “Okay, Blake, I will.”

  He, Rose, and Nola step through the broken window of the shop into the dark green car. Blake opens the trunk to make sure the backpack is still there and closes the trunk tight. His cowboy boots click as he drags the heels on the pavement. His jeans are frayed and drag on the pavement a little. His clean white T-shirt is showing early signs of perspiration under the arms and the middle of his back. The sun is shining bright, the

  aviator sunglasses help. As if in slow motion he spins the ring of keys around on his index finger, while he is walking to the driver’s side door, he looks back down Bourbon Street for the last time, and sits in the driver’s seat.

  “Where are we going, Blake?” Rose says from the passenger seat.

  “California.”

  Turning the ignition key to the on position, the engine turns over and begins to roar. Twisting the knob on the radio to the right causes the volume of classic rock and roll music to pour out of the speakers. He presses the clutch in with his left foot. He maneuvers the shifter into first gear. Letting the clutch out. Pressing on the gas pedal causes the back tires to spin. The car leaves two straight lines of rubber on the road. The tachometer is redlining in sync with the engine. The engine is at maximum Revolutions Per Minute. He quickly works his way through the gears. He, Rose, and Nola are pinned back into their seats. The speed of the car quickly reaches sixty miles per hour. Bullet. Blake looks for a highway sign that reads, West - California.