“Do you think that affected their marriage?”
“How could it not? She thought he was going to make her rich, but they were barely scraping by.”
“With her working a job she didn’t like.” For a moment, I almost felt sorry for my sister.
“I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised about what she did next, but I wasn’t raised to expect that kind of behavior from a married woman.”
It sounded as if Ethel was implying more than just a faltering marriage. “Do you think she was seeing somebody else?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I do know she suddenly quit complaining about her husband and started looking a whole lot happier. She showed up to work in new clothes—expensive outfits, too—and when I asked where she got the money, she laughed and said she’d gotten lucky at one of the casinos in Tunica.” Ethel raised her eyebrows significantly. “It seems to me that ‘getting lucky’ doesn’t always mean a slot machine jackpot.”
I wished I’d been shocked. “Do you think Brandy left her husband for this other man?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Did she ever mention his name? Or drop a hint about where she’d be living?”
“No,” Ethel said with obvious regret. “I was out sick the day she quit, so I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye.”
I was fairly sure Ethel was sorrier about missing a chance to ask questions than she was about an opportunity for a fond farewell. “Do you know which casino she went to?” If Brandy really had won big money, there’d be records.
“She didn’t say.”
I asked a few more questions, but Ethel didn’t have anything else I could use, so I thanked her for her time and gave her my cell phone number, in case she remembered anything else. I paid for her lunch while I was at it—she seemed to expect it, and I figured that was what a real detective would do.
Brandy and Buddy had an apartment on the edge of Memphis, close to the highway so Buddy could get to the blues clubs that were sprinkled all over the Delta. He’d said he’d be awake by one, but there was no answer when I knocked at his door. I decided I’d cross off some of the names he’d given me, people in the apartment building Brandy had been friends with.
Unfortunately, Brandy hadn’t been close to either the stay-at-home mother of twin toddlers or the part-time church secretary, and neither had any idea where she’d gone.
At least the twins’ mother had seen Brandy loading up her car and had spoken to her before she drove off, reassuring me that my sister had left on her own steam. I’d never known Buddy to be violent, so I hadn’t really thought he’d had anything to do with her disappearance, but even insurance investigators know that the obvious suspect is always the husband.
“Was Brandy by herself?” I asked.
“No, she had somebody helping her.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“Um, a man.”
“Did you know him?”
“No, and Brandy didn’t introduce us. He kept carrying things out to the car while I was talking to her.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, nice-looking, dark hair.” She grinned. “He had a great butt—I saw him bending over to fit stuff in the trunk.”
He sounded just like the type of man Brandy liked, assuming that he had money to spend on her. “Did you get the sense that the two of them were more than friends?”
She looked uncomfortable with the thought, but nodded. “Nothing blatant, but yeah, that’s what it looked like. She was smiling at him a lot, that way. You know what I mean.”
It had been a long time since I’d smiled at anybody that way myself, but I did know what she meant. “But she didn’t mention his name?”
“Not to me, but when he said they needed to get going, she said, ‘Okay, Duke.’“ One twin tugged at her leg, and the woman excused herself.
I went back to Buddy’s door and knocked harder. After a while, he opened the door, his eyes so bleary from lack of sleep that he looked like a mole. As he stumbled back into the dim apartment, I couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t have much of a butt at all.
“How’s your mama?” he asked.
“About the same,” I said, not wanting to get into the details of the numerous times she’d woken up during the night, moaning with pain. Her doctor wasn’t willing to give her decent meds—he kept saying he didn’t want her addicted, as if it mattered that a dying woman was a morphine addict. What was she going to do? Start knocking off convenience stores to supply her habit when she couldn’t even make it to the bathroom by herself?
“What about Brandy? Did you find her?”
“Not yet. She did quit her job—you were right about that—but she didn’t tell anybody where she was going.” I hesitated, then decided I wasn’t ready to accuse my sister of adultery until I was sure. “Are you okay with my looking around?”
“Sure. I’ve got to hit the shower.”
He stumbled off, and I started snooping. I wished I could say I felt bad about looking through their drawers, but if I hadn’t been nosy, I’d never have become an investigator in the first place. The problem was there wasn’t a whole lot to find, just clutter and junk, and nothing of Brandy’s—no letters or pictures, none of her bills, and the only item of her clothing was a pair of panties so worn out that they weren’t fit to wear. I threw those out.
After a while, Buddy scooted past with wet hair and a towel wrapped round his waist and shut himself up in the bedroom, so I took a look in the bathroom. More nothing, unless you wanted to count the mildew. As I was going out, I saw something hanging on the back of the door. It was a cheap, dark blue nylon fanny pack with a big-busted queen of hearts grinning on it—I recognized it from the Lucky Lady casino in Tunica. I unzipped it and found half a pack of cigarettes and a partially used book of matches, also from the Lucky Lady.
I carried it with me to the kitchen, where a now-dressed Buddy was watching a coffee cup spin around in the microwave. “Is this yours?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I guess Brandy left it.”
“Was she doing a lot of gambling?”
“You know we don’t have the money for her to do much. Didn’t, I mean. Maybe that’s why she left. Do you think that’s why, Grace?”
Of course that was why, that and realizing she hadn’t married the man she’d fooled herself into thinking Buddy was. But I couldn’t tell him that—he wasn’t a bad man, really. “I don’t know, Buddy. People change. They decide they want different things. It happens all the time.”
“I guess.”
The microwave went off, and he reached inside to get his coffee. “You want something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ve got to get going.”
“About your mama . You told her about Brandy leaving?”
“Last night.” I’d hated it, too, and afterward Mama had gone back and forth between worry for her perennially prodigal daughter and anger at her for not keeping in touch. She’d been so agitated that it had been no surprise that she’d had such a rough night.
Buddy said, “I was thinking I’d go visit her after I get something to eat, maybe take her some flowers. Do you think she’d like that, with me and Brandy having problems?”
“I’m sure she would, Buddy.”
“Maybe I’ll take my guitar and play her some music.”
“That’d be real nice. Just don’t sing the blues—I think she’s got enough troubles of her own.”
He nodded, and I let myself out.
The next step was to talk to some of Brandy’s girlfriends, and for that I went to the drive-through at McDonald’s to get a Diet Coke, then pulled into the back corner of the parking lot to make phone calls. Buddy had told me the night before that he’d spoken to a couple of them himself, and that they’d said they didn’t know where Brandy was, but it couldn’t hurt to talk to them again. They might have lied to him out of loyalty to Brandy, but with Mama’s illness as a spur, I thought they’d tell me the tr
uth. Unfortunately, the truth was that nobody had seen or talked to Brandy since she left Buddy, and nobody knew where she was.
Her two best friends were happily married with kids, and had tired of Brandy’s complaints a while back. Her single friends had gotten sick of footing the bill for her to party with them, and since she didn’t have the money to pay her own way, they’d drifted apart, too. There were some wives and girlfriends of other bluesmen that Brandy had met when accompanying Buddy to his shows, but none of them were close enough for her to confide in them. At least one actively disliked her.
The last one was the only one who’d say flat out that she thought Brandy was fooling around on Buddy—my sister had been dropping hints for a couple of months before she took off. Some of the others dodged the issue, or admitted it was possible when I asked them, but nobody knew who Brandy had been seeing.
Two hours later, I had nothing but an empty McDonald’s cup and a sore ear. I thought back over what I’d heard, and all I had left was the Lucky Lady casino. It wasn’t much of a lead, but I had a friend who worked there. I might have gotten what I needed over the phone, but I do better in person. That’s what I told myself, anyway. Had I been more honest, I’d have admitted that I just didn’t want to go home—early evening seemed to be Mama’s worst time, when she was restless and out of sorts. Maybe it was because she was tired or because that’s when her meds wore off, but I think it was because she wanted to be busy fixing a big dinner and she just wasn’t able. Any more than I was able to watch her like that. So I kept lying to myself for the hour or so it took me to drive to Tunica.
The Lucky Lady isn’t the biggest of the casinos that have taken over Tunica, but the parking lot is probably still bigger than some of the towns where Buddy went to perform. I let a valet handle the parking. He was good enough that he almost concealed his disdain when he had to climb into my ten-year-old Honda, so I gave him a tip that was almost generous.
The casino was filled with day-trippers and junket gamblers who fly in from all over the southeast to take advantage of midweek price breaks. I was years younger than most of them, but it was my lack of a fanny pack that really made me stand out. I hadn’t realized they were part of the gambler’s lifestyle, but it made sense. It was a lot more relaxing to blow a day feeding quarters into a slot machine when you didn’t have to worry about keeping up with a pocketbook.
The Mississippi Delta has a love-hate relationship with the casinos. We love the money they bring in, the jobs they provide, and even the cheap buffets; but hate the crazy traffic, drain on our infrastructure, and undesirable elements that seem to come along with gambling. The money wins, of course.
Quite a few of the people I’d grown up with had gone to work for the casinos, including my friend Leland. Though he did taxes on the side, including for Mama and me, his real job was in the accounting office of the Lucky Lady. I found a teller that didn’t have a line and asked if she’d let Leland know I was there. A few minutes later, he popped out to give me a hug.
“Please tell me you’re here for the buffet and not to gamble,” he said. “If I could show you the money people throw away every day, you’d never so much as put a quarter in a slot machine again. But the buffet is damned good.”
“I’m not here for either. I’m looking for somebody.”
“A case to do with the Lucky Lady?” he asked guardedly. He might not approve of gambling, but he did approve of keeping his job.
“I don’t think so. Not directly, anyway. Have you got a minute?”
He looked at his watch. “Not right now, but I’ll be off the clock in half an hour. Why don’t you go get a beer, and then let me introduce you to the buffet? My treat!”
“Something to eat might not be bad,” I admitted.
He sent me to the quieter of the casino’s two bars, the one that played music videos instead of sports. I found a table and ordered a beer. I was halfway through it when I saw a familiar-looking man sitting by himself, watching Beyonce dancing on a TV screen. After a minute, I remembered where I’d seen him. It was Buddy’s fan from the blues club.
I idly wondered if the man knew my sister. Come to think of it, if he was a regular at Buddy’s shows, he almost certainly had met her and might have noticed if she’d been flirting with anybody in particular. It stood to reason that Brandy had met her new flame at one of the clubs—if she’d met him at her old job, Ethel would have known about it. I picked up what was left of my beer and went over to the man’s table.
“Not exactly the blues, is it?” I said to him.
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
“I saw you at Buddy Bartholomew’s show last night, and he told me that you really know the blues.”
“Ah, another blues fan!” he said happily, and pulled out a chair. “Please, won’t you join me?”
“Thank you,” I said, sitting down. “I’m Grace Monroe.”
“Phillip Akers. I don’t believe I’ve seen you at any of Buddy’s shows before.”
“Do you go to a lot of blues shows?”
“As many as I can,” he said. “I went to my first while I was living in Chicago and was immediately captivated. The blues speak to me in a way no other music ever has. Such power, such raw emotion.” He actually sighed. “I cannot tell you how many hours I’ve spent listening to musicians like Junior Wells and John Lee Hooker. I’m afraid I’m a living reminder that ‘fan’ is short for ‘fanatic.’“
“There are worse things to be addicted to.”
“I was so pleased to have an opportunity to move to the Delta and hear even more musicians. Particularly Buddy. I first saw him at an open mike night, and even then his talent was prodigious. I sensed that he had the potential to be great, and I’m pleased to see how far he’s come. I don’t feel he’s reached his peak yet, but I believe he shall.”
“He did sound pretty good last night,” I said, even though I hadn’t heard more than a few bars. “But to tell you the truth, I’m not a huge blues fan. Buddy is my brother-in-law.”
“I didn’t realize he had a brother.”
“He doesn’t. I’m his wife’s sister.”
“Really? Brandy’s sister?” He looked at me more closely, and I thought I knew what he was thinking. Brandy was pretty and petite, almost dainty. I am not.
“Do you know Brandy?” I asked.
“We’ve spoken a few times. I haven’t seen her recently.”
“She and Buddy have split up.”
“What a shame.”
“In fact, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“I’m trying to track Brandy down. Our mother is very ill.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. The thing is, Brandy hasn’t always gotten along with my mother and me, and we haven’t been in touch. We don’t even know where she’s living. I need to find her before—” My voice caught.
“I wish I could help you, but the last time I saw Brandy was at a show at least a month ago. I’ve never seen her outside the clubs.”
I was a touch embarrassed to bring up the next question, but it was for Mama. “I’ve been told that Brandy was seeing another man. I don’t suppose you ever noticed her with anyone, did you?”
He shook his head. “Surely she wouldn’t have taken up with another man right in front of her husband.”
Obviously he didn’t know Brandy all that well. Just then I saw Leland standing by the entrance, looking in my direction. “It looks like my dinner date is here, so I should go. Thank you for your time.”
“I wish I’d been able to assist you more.”
I left him at his table, and as soon as I got to Leland, he pulled me aside. “Since when do you know Phil Akers?”
“I just met him. Why?”
“Don’t you know who he is?”
“Should I?”
He lowered his voice. “Word is, he’s the real owner of this place. He had to put together a corporation to sign the pap
erwork because he’s not exactly the kind of man the powers that be want running a casino.”
“Why not?”
He lowered his voice even further. “I hear he’s connected.”
“Connected? As in …”
“As in connected.”
“In Tunica?”
“Where there’s gambling, there’s money, and where there’s money, there are people with connections.”
“I guess you’re right. I just never pictured Tony Soprano in Mississippi.”
A few minutes later, Leland and I were sitting in a corner of the Country Time Buffet, the most casual of the casino’s five restaurants. We both had plates of fried chicken, biscuits, green beans, and corn on the cob, with iced tea and blueberry cobbler on the side, though Buddy had filled his plate considerably higher than I had mine.
“Where do you put all that food?” I asked him. He was as skinny as a rail and had been ever since I’d known him.
“I work it off! You think it’s easy lugging buckets of quarters around?”
While we ate, we gossiped about mutual friends and our families, and Leland expressed sympathy for my mother’s condition. He knew all about it, of course—his mother went to our church. It wasn’t until we’d finished the last bites of cobbler that Leland said, “What can I do you for?”
“I’m trying to find Brandy,” I said. “She left Buddy about a month ago, and nobody’s heard from her since.”
“You think something’s happened to her?”
“There’s no telling. You know Brandy.”
He nodded. Everybody in our circle knew Brandy.
“I hear she started doing some shopping she shouldn’t have been able to afford, and she told a woman at her job that she’d gotten lucky at a casino. Since she had a Lucky Lady fanny pack, I thought she might have done her winning here. Don’t you keep records of big winners?”
“Absolutely—when the pot is fat enough, the IRS comes running for their cut right away. The thing is, I’m usually the one that helps winners with their paperwork, and I’d have remembered if Brandy had shown up.”
“Couldn’t it have happened when you weren’t on duty?”
“Maybe, but they always make a big deal and take pictures when a good-looking woman is involved, and I haven’t seen any pictures of Brandy on the bulletin board.”
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