by G A Chase
* * *
Rest would have been nice, but being a bartender in the Quarter meant working late hours.
Myles flipped a bottle of vodka back onto the rack behind him. “Hey, Charlie, have you ever heard the names Malveaux or Laurette?”
His diving buddy and fellow bartender had a way with people. Myles never knew what tidbits of New Orleans history might be locked in his friend’s ambitious head. “Never heard of Malveaux. Do you have any context?”
“From what I’ve gathered the baron Malveaux was a banker around the early 1800s. And the name Laurette refers to an architect, but I don’t have a date on that one.”
Charlie spun the bottle of tequila as he thought. “Well, if the Malveaux family was around before the Civil War, that might be your answer. A lot of family lines ended when they sent their boys to battle. Laurette, though—that one I do recognize. For generations, they designed mansions in the Garden District. I didn’t think they were still around.”
So far, Charlie wasn’t awfully helpful, but anything beat having to talk to drunk tourists. “I was at what was left of the Laurette mansion today. The business must have closed up a long time ago. From the woman I talked to, I got the impression the family name might also be down to its last representative.”
“That’s a shame.” Charlie grabbed a couple of plastic drink dispensers and headed toward the shot girl, who was waving her empty rack at him.
A group of drunk college boys fell into the side entrance next to Myles’s end of the bar. One had the impudence to slam his Pat O’Brian glass on the bar. “Another hurricane!”
Some nights, it took all of Myles’s tact not to do something that would get him fired. Instead of correcting the obnoxious idiot as to which bar he was in, Myles mixed up a drink strong enough to land the guy in the party juice of Bourbon Street’s gutters.
Charlie nudged Myles’s arm as he returned the bottles of colorful alcoholic drinks. “What’s with the interest in New Orleans family lineages?”
“Just another flight of imagination.”
Charlie leaned in conspiratorially to be heard over the latest ’80s cover band on stage. “If you’re onto something interesting, count me in. That World War II discovery got me laid for months.”
“What about Vanessa?”
“Yep. That adventure got me in her panties too.”
“I meant, aren’t you two dating?” Myles had to yell to be heard over the mangled rendition of “Dance with Me.”
Charlie held up two bottles of Abita Amber. “This is New Orleans!”
Not surprisingly, everyone at the bar yelled in agreement.
5
Kendell changed into her oversized nightshirt and climbed under her billowy comforter. She wasn’t tired, but she often did some of her best thinking cuddled up under the covers prior to falling asleep. Cheesecake took her protective position at Kendell’s feet, facing the bedroom door.
The time with Myles had proven eventful. He’d given her a reason to get out of her apartment and into a new adventure. Not that finding guys to take her out had been a problem. Working at the coffee shop and playing at the Scratchy Dog afforded her plenty of interactions with people. But not having to fend off a man’s advances meant she’d had the luxury of focusing on others rather than constantly playing defense. Myles was one of those rare nice guys who might or might not be interested in a sexual relationship. If he was just trying to fuck her, he was on the wrong track. Agreeing to explore the paranormal with her, like kids playing make believe, wasn’t the quickest way into her panties. “Do you think he finds me attractive?”
From the way Cheesecake sighed and put her head down on her paws, Kendell knew the dog pitied and distrusted any guy who didn’t see the wonders of her mistress.
“His lack of interest in having sex with me isn’t a bad thing. We might even become friends, real friends, not like the other guys you’ve met.”
The dog turned her big brown eyes to Kendell and rolled onto her back. It was a clear sign she either wanted a belly rub or wished to get some sleep. After eleven years, Kendell had learned the difference, but reading Cheesecake was often a matter of looking for subtleties. She was a complex being. Anyone who didn’t get that wasn’t someone Kendell wished to know.
“You could try to be a little nicer to him. It’s not like he wanted to pick you up.” Kendell reached down to rub Cheesecake’s chest even though sleep was what she was after.
The dog rolled to her side to grasp Kendell’s hand in her paws.
“Okay, my good girl. I’ll let you get some rest.”
Getting to know Myles purely for the enjoyment and adventure was good enough for the moment. She didn’t need to be speculating on where he might want to take the relationship. She’d be on guard as always, and if she did slip, Cheesecake would be there to let her know. Kendell pulled the thick comforter up to her chin and gave her dog a gentle pat with her foot from under the covers before falling asleep.
It never took long for her to drift off on her luxurious bed. Her dream of living in New Orleans during the 1800s, however, was rudely interrupted by Cheesecake launching off the bed. The dog never was a deep sleeper, and the apartment on Decatur provided more than the occasional random street noise that would set her off to investigate.
But Cheesecake’s barks weren’t the usual announcement of a group of loud drunks below her apartment. Kendell bolted out of bed as she recognized the threatening howl that said someone was in their domain. As she rushed out of the small bedroom and into the moonlit living room, she saw her normally reserved dog fly into an all-out attack against what had originally looked like nothing more than a shadow. The inner wolf, once provoked, would never back down once she felt threatened. But this was the first time Kendell knew they really were in danger.
Cheesecake had the hooded intruder by the sleeve of his dark leather coat and was wildly shaking her head like a dog possessed. The burglar held something in his hand, but he wasn’t using it as a weapon.
“Leave my dog alone, and get out of my apartment!” Even though Cheesecake was dominating the fight, Kendell couldn’t stand the idea of her dog in danger. She looked around for something to throw at the burglar. But before she could grab the nearby glass vase, the man let out a yell of pain and dropped whatever he had in his hand.
Even in the moonlight, Kendell could make out the blood that oozed from the bite mark on his wrist. Having freed the item in danger of being stolen, the dog let go of the man’s arm and lunged for the object. Kendell had only the briefest glimpse of the gleaming pipe tool as her dog took it into her mouth and swallowed it.
“Crazy dog, what do you think you’re doing?”
Apparently, the burglar must have had a similar thought as he snatched Cheesecake off the floor and bolted for the open window to the balcony.
This can’t be happening. It has to be a bad dream. “What are you doing? Put my dog down, asshole!” Kendell chased after them as Cheesecake wriggled, growled, and attempted to bite her abductor. In their eleven years together, she’d never heard her dog fight with such animal aggression. But size was still against her.
Kendell chased after the pair, screaming out Cheesecake’s name as they disappeared over the balcony railing and down the metal fire escape. In her panic she tripped over the window ledge and hit her head on the chaise lounge she used as her quiet reading place. By the time she got off the porch floor, the thief had made his escape with her dog.
* * *
Myles wasn’t the deepest of sleepers, but coming to always proved disorienting. When his cell phone woke him, he struggled to find the off button to what he assumed was the alarm. Instead of the phone going quiet so he could fall back asleep, however, Kendell’s panicked voice brought him to full-alert status. “Someone’s stolen Cheesecake! Oh God, Myles, get over here. I don’t know what to do. Please help me!”
He’d never gotten out of bed, dressed, and crossed a handful of blocks so fast in his life. The only though
t that kept running around in his mind was Why would anyone steal a pet? Some things were strictly off-limits. He could envision no reason for the abduction. Poor Kendell.
Her door flew open as he bounded up the stairs to her apartment. Her hands were shaking and tears streamed down her face as she gasped out the words, “They dognapped her. They stole my sweet girl.”
He took her into his arms, unsure of what else to do. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get her back.”
As she recounted her story, she had to take a sobbing breath between each word. His emotions made it hard to focus. The natural instinct to rush outside and start hunting for the dog struggled with the intellectual need to hear what had happened, and that, unfortunately, was frustrated by Kendell’s inability to quickly tell her story.
He looked out the window that had been jimmied open to the balcony. He didn’t want to let go of Kendell while she was still in shock, but finding the dog took priority.
She nodded toward the open window as he let her go. “He ran out that way.”
Like most of the streets in that area of the Quarter, life never stopped, even on a Wednesday in winter at one in the morning. Peering over the wrought-iron railing, Myles saw the usual array of gutter punks. “Hey, did any of you see a guy jump down from the fire escape with a dog?”
A skinny dude holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other pointed the triangle of cheese and pepperoni down Decatur. “That thing was a dog? I thought for sure it was some kind of demon. Sure didn’t sound like a dog. I’ve never heard anything like it. That dude holding it had some balls, I’ll tell ya.”
Myles wasn’t really interested in the drunk youth’s opinions. “Did he get in a car? Which way did they go? That asshole stole my friend’s pet.”
“Dude. That’s not cool. I’d have punched that guy if I’d known and wasn’t so afraid of that demon.”
A young woman with ratty-looking blond dreadlocks stepped in for her drunk companion. “He jumped in a truck loaded with portable generators and speakers. He was headed toward Jackson Square.”
“Those were some sweet woofers.” From the way the drunk gutter punk shook his head, Myles suspected that if the truck been left on Decatur much longer, it might have been missing a couple of items off the back.
He grabbed Kendell’s arm to stop her from pacing. “Go put some clothes on. I think I know where he was headed. We’re going after Cheesecake.”
Kendell’s eyes were larger than those of any woman he’d known as she looked hopefully at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until we get her back. I’m not leaving your side until we do.”
6
Kendell’s bright-yellow Vespa scooter had the advantage of being small enough to dodge the potholes that scarred every street in New Orleans. But speed and safety weren’t its strong points. Myles twisted the accelerator grip so hard he thought he must be stretching the cable. Not that the increased pressure made the damn thing move any faster. Snuggled up to his back, Kendell had at least stopped sobbing. He could feel her desperation as she gripped him around the waist. They were doing something, and that at least meant she wasn’t sitting around her apartment in a state of panic.
“Where are we going?”
He reached down to rub her arm as she hugged him tight. “Float World. The only reason someone would need a bunch of generators and speakers would be for a Mardi Gras parade. Cheesecake will be all right. Why on Earth would anyone want to steal your dog, anyway?”
“I don’t know. They were fighting over that damn pipe tool, but it’s not like that was worth anything. I’d have let him have it instead of losing my girl.”
Myles continued rubbing her arm as he swung the scooter toward the row of warehouses that lined the wharf along the Mississippi River. He’d have given up the object too. The question kept nagging him of why someone would want it so badly as to break the law. However, it wasn’t like the cops were going to do much about an abducted dog or a stolen pipe tool, at least not at one in the morning.
Kendell pulled tighter against his stomach. “You really think he was headed to the warehouses?”
“If he wanted to wait until Cheesecake pooped out the pipe tool, that area would be isolated enough that no one would hear the barking.”
It wouldn’t help her state of mind to tell her what he really thought. If the thief just wanted the pipe tool, killing the dog—much as Myles hated to admit it—would have been the simplest of solutions. The fact that he hadn’t harmed Cheesecake when she bit him gave Myles hope. The person either had a conscience or needed the dog alive. Either way, Myles would have time to rescue the dog, and ultimately, that was the most important thing.
He parked the scooter next to a pickup truck that had been backed up to a loading dock. He felt the commercial vehicle’s exhaust pipe. It was still hot. The gaudily painted warehouse had a creepy-carnival haunted-house feel to it during the day. At night, the dark buildings made his skin crawl.
Kendell grabbed his arm. “I know you said not to tell you until we find Cheesecake, but thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me.”
“In spite of what my family thinks, I didn’t go into archeology to be the next Indiana Jones. But I suppose if the opportunity for adventure and the need to save a damsel in distress presents itself, I’d be a fool not to take the challenge. Even if the damsel happens to be a dog.”
“You don’t think they’d hurt her, do you?” He could tell from her quivering voice it wasn’t a prospect she wanted to consider, but walking into a potentially dangerous situation forced the question.
“Whoever did this hasn’t hurt her yet, so I think she’ll be okay. Just the same, the sooner we find her and get the hell out of here, the better.”
They crept around the corner to the gaping entrance. As they entered the darkened warehouse, large, sculpted clown heads faced them from either side. “And I thought this place was creepy enough from outside.” Poor Cheesecake. Hold on, girl. We’re coming.
A trail of fresh blood directed them down the center of the cement floor between the towering floats.
“You don’t think that’s Cheesecake’s blood, do you?” Kendell’s quivering voice indicated her failure to calm her sense of panic.
“My money would be on Cheesecake being the aggressor. There was blood on your balcony too. I don’t think that guy knew what he was getting into when he took her. We’ll keep to the shadows.” He only hoped he sounded believable. Having Kendell in a state of distress wasn’t going to help keep them undetected.
The thought of Cheesecake getting another bite of the thief gave him only a passing sense of smug satisfaction. Hopefully, he was right, and they were keeping her alive for some reason he couldn’t figure out. I wish we’d never laid eyes on that damn pipe tool.
As they moved deeper into the cavernous warehouse, the light from the door cast their shadows like giant, skinny, ghostly specters. “We need to get closer to the floats so they don’t see us.” But walking under the figureheads and over the tow bars used by the tractors was slow going.
She held tight to his hand as if she were afraid she’d lose him. “How are we going to see anything in here?”
The penlight he pulled from his pocket didn’t inspire confidence. It did, however, illuminate a jester’s head six feet tall. She gripped his hand hard. At least she didn’t scream at the colorful apparition.
He crouched between two floats that smelled of fresh paint. “Let your eyes adjust for a moment. If they’re in here, there will be a light on somewhere. They’ll probably be in one of the back offices.”
One of the side benefits to working nights was that given enough time, his eyesight could adjust to almost any lighting conditions. It wasn’t the sight of the creepy clowns and jesters that caught his attention but the sound of a wolf snarling that echoed around the cavernous building.
Standing close behind him, Kendell grabbed his hand. “I’ve never heard Cheeseca
ke growl like that before.”
Though her assessment made the most logical sense, he had trouble envisioning the elderly overweight lapdog reverting to her ancestral roots. “That does not sound like your dog—more like some wild animal.”
Her short hair teased his cheek as she shook her head. “You might be surprised. Lhasa apsos are only one layer of domestication from the Tibetan mountain wolf. That’s one of the things I love about her. She hasn’t had all that natural instinct bred out of her.”
Two beams of light hit the sculpted glittery faces that adorned the floats on either side of the central passage. Cheesecake-the-wolf let out another warning snarl from halfway down the warehouse, attracting whoever was wielding the flashlights.
Myles grabbed Kendell’s wrist. “Let’s hide in the float. We can see what’s going on better, and we’ll have the advantage of being above whoever might be coming. Just stay quiet. Sounds carry in here.”
They snuck around to the back of the long trailer decorated to look as if the court jesters had taken over the castle. The wood steps creaked as they made their ascent, but Cheesecake’s growls would have commanded the attention of anyone on the prowl.
The voices of two men carried clearly to the second-floor stage of the float.
“Damn dog. Why did you let it escape? We’ll be looking for dog shit for days if we don’t find it soon.”
“You’re not the one who got bit, so stop complaining. That thing may look like a fat, lazy animal, but it’s got the heart of a killer. When I get my hands on that beast—”
“You’re not going to do anything. Remember the contract. No living thing is to suffer harm while in possession of the pipe tool.”