Delta Blues

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Delta Blues Page 23

by Carolyn Haines


  “Damn.” Either she’d lied about the win, or it hadn’t been as big as she’d pretended. Or maybe she’d been at an entirely different casino. At least I’d gotten a good dinner out of it.

  Except Leland was saying, “What does that fanny pack look like? Is it like that one?” He pointed to a woman rolling past in an electric wheelchair wearing a black nylon fanny pack with the casino’s trademark on it.

  “Brandy’s is blue.”

  “Close enough. They come in all colors. We give them to people when they join the Player’s Club, and to join you have to fill out an application with your address and phone number.”

  “Brandy had that pack before she left Buddy—the application would have her old address.”

  “Maybe, but if she’s a loyal customer, she’d want to keep getting her comps and coupons in the mail, so she’d have changed her address in our records.”

  “It’s worth a try, if you don’t mind checking.”

  Leland went back to his office while I went back to the bar. Akers was long gone, which was probably just as well. If he really was in charge, Leland might not want him knowing he was digging up information on guests. I ordered beers for both of us and even considered picking up a six-pack to take home to Mama. She wasn’t supposed to drink with all her meds, but she sure did love a cold beer. What harm could it do anyway?

  I was still trying to decide when Leland slid into the other side of the booth. “Bingo!” Then he looked around in mock alarm. “Better not say that too loud—people will want to play that, too.”

  “What did you get?”

  “Brandy’s new address.” He handed me a printout of a Memphis address and phone number.

  “Leland, I could kiss you.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “The fact that your girlfriend would beat the crap out of me.”

  He grinned and took a big swallow out of his beer. “I guess you really get into this detective stuff.”

  “It’s okay, usually paperwork, really.” Seeing that he looked disappointed, I figured the least I could do was tell a few funny stories about the crazy claims people made to try to cheat insurance companies—from the woman who pretended she’d lost her hearing until the fire alarm went off behind her to the man who hired somebody to key his car so he could get it repainted for free. But we didn’t talk long. He had his girlfriend to see, and I was hoping to find Brandy right away.

  I pulled out my cell phone when I got outside, but there was no answer at Brandy’s new number and no answering machine. I got another disdainful valet to retrieve my car, and while I waited, made up my mind about what to do next. By rights, I should have gone home to check on Mama, but I knew she’d want me to find Brandy sooner rather than later. Besides, I didn’t mind being away from the house a little while longer.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with Mama, but I hated feeling so damned useless, not able to make her feel better. And though I’d rather have had my nails pulled out with pliers than tell her, it was the smell that really got to me. I didn’t know if it was something chemical from the endless progression of pills, the difficulty of getting Mama really clean with a sponge bath, or the cancer itself stinking up the air. Maybe it was all three. Whatever it was, I didn’t think I’d ever be totally free of it.

  So I decided to go to Brandy’s new address. If nothing else, I’d be able to leave her a note.

  According to the information Leland had given me, Brandy was still in Memphis, but when I got to her new apartment building, I could see she’d moved up a few steps. The building she’d lived in with Buddy had been built in the seventies to look modern, while this place had been built twenty years later and designed to look old. It was obviously much more expensive.

  When I rang the bell, I was buzzed in right away, as if Brandy were expecting me, but from the look on her face when I stepped out of the elevator, I could tell I wasn’t the one she was waiting for. She was dressed in a skirt that was too short for a woman her age, and a silky top that showed far too much cleavage.

  “Grace! What are you doing here?”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” I said, and I admit I sounded peevish.

  “I mean, I wasn’t sure you’d gotten my change of address card—I hadn’t heard from you.”

  Change of address card? Right. “Can I come in?”

  “Um, sure. For a little while.”

  Brandy’s apartment was filled with new furniture, all straight out of a box so that it matched and showed no character whatsoever.

  “Are you going out?” I said.

  “Sure am. I’ve got a date.” She held up a hand as if to forestall some comment from me. “You know Buddy and I are separated, right?”

  “I know you up and left him.”

  “Well I had good reasons.”

  I could have argued with her, but the fact was, I didn’t give a crap. “Brandy, your relationship with Buddy or whoever it is you’re seeing is no concern of mine. I’m here about Mama.”

  She slid down on the shiny, faux leather sofa. “What about Mama?”

  I sat next to her. “She’s bad off. It’s cancer. You need to come home right away.”

  “You don’t mean tonight?”

  “I mean right this minute. She’s dying, Brandy. I don’t know how much longer she’s got.”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “He’s giving her another month. Maybe less.”

  “Damned doctors! If we had money, he wouldn’t give up on her.”

  “You really think I’d let him give up on Mama? There’s nothing anybody can do. She didn’t want to admit she was sick, and by the time she finally got checked out, it was too late for chemo or radiation to do her any good. We’ve been trying to get a hold of you, but I just found out yesterday that you and Buddy had split up and it took me all day to find you.” I was trying to keep the anger out of my voice, but I don’t imagine I did too well.

  “How was I supposed to know?”

  “Well, you might have—” I stopped myself. There was no point. “Let’s just head on over to the house. Mama can’t wait to see you.”

  Brandy didn’t get up. “Does she look bad?”

  The fact was, Mama’s illness had been so overwhelming that I was already forgetting what she’d looked like when she was healthy. “She looks pretty rough.”

  “I hate to see her when she’s so sick. I don’t want to remember her that way.”

  I wanted to tell her that I’d have given a lot not to have those memories myself, but I clamped down on my temper. “It’s not about you, Brandy. Mama wants to say goodbye.”

  Brandy started crying, and I tried to comfort her, but I’ve never been a nurturing person and had to settle for looking around until I found a box of tissues to hand her. Eventually she quieted down enough to talk.

  “I can’t deal with this tonight, Grace. I’ve got plans, and—I’ll be over there first thing in the morning. No, even better—I’ll make a batch of my egg salad and bring it for lunch. Mama loves my egg salad.”

  “I don’t know if she can even keep it down.”

  “I’m sure she can—it’ll make her feel so much better. You just wait and see.”

  “Then come on over tonight. You visit with Mama, and I’ll go to the store and get what you need for the egg salad. You can make it over there just as easy as here.”

  Brandy looked at the clock. “No, not tonight. I’ll come tomorrow. I swear.”

  “I’m sure your date will understand if you have to cancel.”

  “It’s not that,” she insisted. “I just need some time to process it all.”

  I didn’t want to leave without her, but short of picking her up and carrying her, there wasn’t anything else I could do. In fairness to my sister, it would have been a shock for me to show up unexpectedly, even without such bad news. Brandy wasn’t always the fastest on her feet, so maybe it was best to give her a night to come to terms with Mama’s condition. “Tomorrow
morning? You promise? I don’t want to get Mama’s hopes up if you’re not coming.”

  “Tomorrow at lunch. I swear.”

  “All right, Brandy. I’m counting on you to show up.”

  “I said I’d be there,” she snapped.

  “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at lunchtime.”

  “By one at the latest,” she said, and walked me to the door. We hugged briefly, and I got back into the elevator.

  As I stepped into the building’s lobby, a tall man in tight jeans was ringing a doorbell. I wasn’t sure, but I thought it was Brandy’s. He got buzzed in before I could get a good look at him, but as he walked to the elevator, I noticed that he had a nice butt. I wondered if he was Brandy’s mysterious boyfriend Duke. I also wondered where I’d seen him before—he looked familiar.

  Mama was asleep when I got home. Buddy had been true to his word and come by to play for her earlier, and Mrs. Pembroke, the church lady on duty, said Mama had dozed off during “How Great Thou Art.” After checking with Mrs. Pembroke about which meds were due when, I walked her out to her car and locked up for the night. I settled down in the old recliner in Mama’s room where I’d been sleeping in case she needed me overnight, happy to have dodged explanations about Brandy until the next day.

  The phone rang at three in the morning, and in my sleep-fogged state, my first instinct was to go to Mama, thinking she was calling for me, but she wasn’t even stirring. I grabbed the cordless phone and took it out into the hall to talk without disturbing her.

  Maybe fifteen minutes later, I was back and I automatically checked Mama again before sitting in my chair. This time I didn’t sleep. I don’t think I so much as closed my eyes. Instead I spent the next few hours wondering how I was going to tell Mama that Brandy was dead.

  I was tempted to make up a lie, but Mama would have seen right through that, so I had to tell her the truth. Brandy had died in a head-on collision with an eighteen-wheeler. When I asked about Brandy’s boyfriend, the police told me she’d been alone in the car.

  I expected Mama to take it hard, but all she said was that God must have taken Brandy so there’d be somebody to meet her in heaven. She died almost exactly twenty-four hours later.

  As much as it hurt for them to go so close together, I realized a few days later it was a blessing it had happened that way. That was when the police called again, this time to let me know the lab results had come back, proving that Brandy was high on cocaine when she died.

  Buddy came to their joint funeral and played “How Great Thou Art” again. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever heard.

  About a week after I buried my mother and my sister, I found some things in Brandy’s apartment I thought Buddy might want: pictures of the two of them and a couple of cassette tapes of him playing music. I could have mailed it all, but with Mama gone and the church ladies moved on to other needy families, the empty house was getting to me. Even listening to the blues would be better than trying to turn the TV up loud enough to drown out the silence. So I called around until I found out where Buddy was playing and drove over.

  Though this place was considerably bigger than the last bar I’d met Buddy at, it was even more crowded. I was glad for Buddy’s success, but I couldn’t help thinking that if Brandy had hung on just a little longer, maybe she could have quit her job to bask in his reflected glory. Instead she’d died alone, and her precious boyfriend hadn’t even cared about her enough to show up at the funeral.

  As I tried to make my way backstage, I saw Buddy’s fan, Akers, sitting front and center again, with the same companion as before. After what Leland had told me about him, I guessed that the younger man was his bodyguard.

  I’d just gotten to Akers’ table when the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights went on. That meant I’d have to stay until the first set was over if I wanted to talk to Buddy. I looked around for an empty table, but the place was packed solid, and I started toward the edge of the room as Buddy stepped onto the stage, resigned to leaning against the wall for the next hour.

  Then Akers waved me over to his table, which had the only empty chairs in view. I could barely hear him over the applause for Buddy, saying, “Please, join us.”

  I smiled and nodded gratefully. I didn’t know if he was connected or not, but it couldn’t hurt to share his table. He introduced the man with him, but honestly I couldn’t hear his name or even see him clearly in the dim light, and I didn’t think he’d heard my name either.

  A minute later, Buddy started playing, and none of us paid any attention to one another anyway.

  I suppose the reason I’d never cared for the blues was because it all sounded like whining to me, and Mama had never let me get away with whining. But Mama was gone, and Brandy was gone, and this time, it felt as if Buddy was playing for me and me alone. I don’t think I so much as moved during his whole set, other than to clap as hard as I could after each song.

  Buddy started by picking out “The Sky is Crying” on his electric guitar, then went straight into “Where Did You Sleep Last Night.” It didn’t take a psychologist to realize why he’d chosen those two. I didn’t recognize the next few songs, which were more up tempo. Then he switched to an acoustic guitar for “Trouble Soon Be Over,” and the nearly wordless musical moan of “Dark Was the Night.” Sweat poured down his face, despite the towel he used to wipe himself, and he hunched protectively over whichever guitar he was playing. He finished up with “Lonesome Valley,” and though I don’t cry in public, I came damned close as Buddy sang about a mother and a sister following their solitary paths toward death.

  The few times I glanced away from Buddy, I saw that Akers was as hypnotized as I was. His eyes were shining, either with pure pleasure or unshed tears, or maybe both.

  When Buddy finished the set, Akers stood to applaud, and Buddy grinned as if he’d won the lottery. Then he saw me, and looked pleased that I’d come. He mouthed, “Give me ten minutes,” before going backstage.

  The house lights came back up, and the crowd surged toward the bar. Akers must have given prior instructions, because his bodyguard immediately got up to join the line waiting for service.

  “That was incredible,” Akers said. “I was certain Buddy had it in him, and tonight’s performance proves it.”

  I remembered how Buddy had described the blues to me. “I guess he’s mourning Brandy the best way he can.”

  “Oh, yes. His wife’s accident. Your sister. Forgive me. Please accept my condolences for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  The bodyguard returned with a pitcher of beer and mugs, and poured a round for us. Akers was lost in his thoughts, humming one of the songs Buddy had sung. Just to make conversation, I asked the younger man, “Are you a blues fan, too?”

  He shook his head. “Me, I like something to dance to. All that whining gets on my nerves.”

  Though I’d thought the same thing myself, I felt contrary enough to defend Buddy’s music. “It’s not whining. The blues are nothing but a good man feeling bad.”

  “Yeah? I’d rather make a bad woman feel good.” He grinned, and I guess it was supposed to be roguish, but to me it looked like nothing so much as an alligator’s leer.

  I blinked and suddenly realized why the man I’d seen at Brandy’s place had looked familiar. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.

  “Kendricks,” he said. “Duke Kendricks.”

  I’m fairly sure I thanked Akers for the seat and the beer before standing up and making my way backstage, but the next thing I really remember was telling Buddy why Brandy had left him.

  Buddy held his guitar as he listened to me, and he pressed his fingers so tightly against the metal strings that he drew blood, but he didn’t say a word until I was finished. All he said then was, “I’ll be right back.”

  He was gone for a couple of minutes, and I realized after the fact that he must have known there was a gun in the club’s office. At the time, all I noticed when he got back was that he’d d
raped a towel over one hand. Without speaking, we went into the club and walked to Akers’ table, with Buddy ignoring the people slapping his back in congratulation.

  Akers beamed at him. “My boy, my boy. You’ve surpassed yourself. You must be parched.” He saw the beer pitcher was empty and said, “Duke, get Buddy something to drink.”

  “Yes, sir,” Duke said and pushed his way back toward the bar.

  Buddy and I sat down, and Akers said, “I feel privileged to have been here tonight, and I like to think that my advice and support has helped you, at least in a small way.”

  “Oh, you’ve been a big help. You always said I needed a little seasoning and the rest would come. So you made sure I got what I needed.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The blues are a good man feeling bad, right? I don’t know that I’m a good man, but I’m hurting, Mr. Akers. Brandy left me, and now she’s dead, and I’m playing better than I’ve ever played in my life. That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  I’d expected Akers to deny it, but he said, “She wasn’t worthy of you, Buddy. You always had it in you to be great, and she was holding you back. Now that I’ve cleared the way for you, the world can hear your music, just as I have.”

  “You want to hear music?” Buddy said. “Listen to this.”

  That’s when I saw the gun in his hand.

  PRESENT

  “You know the rest.”

  “Wait a minute,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “If Kendricks was having an affair with Bartholomew’s wife, why didn’t Bartholomew go after Kendricks?”

  “Kendricks only slept with Brandy because Akers told him to.” I could see Johnson still didn’t get it. “Akers wanted to discover a new blues legend and decided Buddy needed to feel the blues so he could play them better. So he got Kendricks to seduce Brandy.” Knowing my sister, it probably hadn’t been difficult. “He must have taken her out to the casino and shown her a big time. Probably supplied the nose candy, too.

  “Only Buddy didn’t even notice his wife was screwing around on him, so Kendricks got Brandy to leave him. I don’t know if they meant for Brandy to die, but it’s a hell of a coincidence that she picked the night I spoke to Akers to drive while high. I know Kendricks was at her place that night, and she was planning to go out with him. How did she end up driving around alone if he didn’t set it up?” I shrugged. “Whatever they intended, Brandy died, and all Akers cared about was Buddy’s music.”

 

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