He flashed Andrew a smile and added, "I wouldn't take just anyone to this place. It's in a landmark -- in a historic building and furnished in antiques. But," he said, looking up and down at Drew, "since you're British, I figure I can trust you not to trash the place."
"I'll do my best, Jack."
"I knew you would," his friend told him. Then he went silent. Neither of the men spoke until they parked the car and entered into the building. Jack moved ahead of Andrew, put his hand out to stop him and said, "I'll go in. You stay out here."
"Jack..."
"Let me do this for you, Andy. Please."
"All right," Andrew responded, in a very low voice.
Jack knocked on the door, told the attendant who he was and why, and gained admission, leaving Andrew standing in a dark, dreary hallway that smelled of disinfectant and death.
Andrew's head spun. He felt that same over-whelming helplessness he had when he'd learned of James' death. They hadn't even been married a year.
He thought of all the bad things they'd gotten through -- all the people and the attempts that had been made to kill them. And they'd gotten through it.
Yet, here he was standing in a morgue corridor, waiting to find out if his wife was lying inside, dead.
After what seemed like hours, Jack slipped back through the doorway, closely followed by another man.
"Andy, this is Detective Thibodaux. Andrew Oliver."
The detective thrust out a beefy hand, and said, "Glad to meet you."
Nanny Roberts’ early training automatically kicked in, and Andrew responded, "A pleasure, I'm sure." Then he looked from one man to the other and waited.
"It's not her, Andy."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, unless Liz has some tattoos neither one of you ever talked about. And..." Jack drawled, with a smile, "I just don't see Liz as a tattoo kind of a gal."
"No," Andrew answered. "No, no tattoos," he repeated, and then let out an audible sigh.
"I told Jack, here, how I was pretty sure who this woman was. And I was right. She's a pro -- called herself Barbie Dahl, and worked the Quarter. He's shown me a picture of your wife, and they could be sisters."
He held the door open for the others, as he continued, "Barbie probably caught sight of your wife and noticed the resemblance, and decided her ID would come in handy the next time she got pulled in. Bet she thought she'd won the lottery when she found all those IDs. The poor little bitch! She's an old hand at purse snatching. I bet she just followed behind your girl, until she was carrying packages, or concentrating on something, cut the strap, and walked past her with the stolen purse in a large tote or shopping bag."
"But," Andrew asked, "do you have any idea where Beth is?"
"From where Mary Jane Johnson's car was towed, and Barbie's usual circuit, I'm thinking your girl is in the far end of the Quarter, closer to Esplanade. And, I already have some people asking around."
"Well, let's go!" Drew exclaimed.
"No! You go back to where you're staying, and I'll call you when I find out anything."
"Can't we go with you? Help you look for her?"
"Not a good idea. I'm friendly. But most New Orleans cops don't play so nice with strangers. They tend to not trust anyone they haven't known since 'forever'. I'll find out what you need, a lot faster, and with a lot less work. Go on, I have your numbers."
Jack wove his way through the city, turned from Canal Street onto Chartres Street, and continued several blocks. Andrew could see a barricade further down the street that marked the beginning of Jackson Square, which meant pedestrian traffic only, and was about to ask where they were going when Jack clicked a garage door opener, and pulled into the courtyard revealed by double wooden gates that swung opened before them. As soon as they'd pulled inside, the doors closed again, concealing them from the French Quarter.
Jack threw the car into park, climbed out, and gestured to Drew to follow. "Come on, I'll show you around."
Andrew spun around. They were in a lush patio, filled with flowering plants, and a bubbling fountain. He'd heard about these inner courtyards hidden behind walls, but this was the first one he'd actually seen.
Then, he thought about it and realized he'd never been to New Orleans before. He followed Jack inside and up a back stairway to the second floor, and through another door.
What greeted him was a wide, sweeping staircase gracefully curving up to the third floor. He could see a living room and dining room, both furnished in antiques, and at the end of the hallway dividing the two rooms, an open door revealed a modern kitchen.
"What's your pleasure?" Jack asked.
Andrew looked over at his friend. "What?"
"Would you like a drink, or should I make coffee, or what?"
He looked at Jack, shrugged, and asked, "How long do you think it will be? Will he call soon?"
"I hope so. Look, since you don't have an answer -- about what you'd like to drink, why don't we go pick up a rental car for you? It's not far away, and then you'll have a car of your own."
"I guess so. Are you going somewhere?"
"Not necessarily. But, I might have to leave at any time -- I do have a job, remember? Besides, my friend was very specific. You can stay in the apartment, but only I can drive the car."
"I see. All right, we might as well. Just in case you actually do have to go back to work."
"Ah...speaking of work..."
"I'm sure Fitz has told you -- I haven't been going to work. I might never go back to work. I haven't even been able to stay in the house. I was camping out in the London flat, and ignoring all phone calls and visitors."
"You took my call."
"You should feel honored. You're about the only person I spoken to. Unless Beth's folks were to call. I was sure she'd go to them."
"She probably was. We've had a really bad spring here. The central states have been pounded with rain. So, between that and the normal spring thaw and run-off, there's been a lot of flooding. And, it's also tornado season. She could have decided to take the longer route along the East Coast, and then across the country to avoid all that 'iffy' weather."
"Then why did she stop here?"
"From the story I got, the Toyota had pretty much just died. I mean, we know how much she spent for train and airfare, and the bus tickets, and what she paid for the car.
"I'm thinking that both the car and her money tapped out at the same time, leaving her stranded here. So, she was forced to hunker down, regroup, and come up with an alternate plan."
"I just hope that policeman finds her. I'm not sure how much longer I can hang on."
"What's going on back at work?"
"Sir Roger and Sir Anthony are at each other's throats. They're barely speaking to one another -- except for the odd slur or insult. And Richard is beside himself with worry, as well as being furious with Sir Anthony. I told him he shouldn't do it..." Drew insisted.
"Why did he?" Jack asked.
"He says he had no choice. There's a leak, and the PM decided that Beth was to be officially accused."
"Wait," Jack said, stopping at a traffic light, and facing him. "Are you saying that they don't even suspect her?"
"Yes, their theory was that with all the pressure on her, whoever was passing information would get careless. But, it was decided that Beth was not to be filled in on that bit."
"Damn hell!"
"If we'd been on better terms, I would have just taken her away -- not even given Sir Anthony a chance to speak to her. But...well...I'm sure Fitz has told you how she was."
"How is she, physically?" Jack asked. "I mean, when I saw her, she was just lying there, unconscious." His friend looked at him and added, "I also saw you. And, to be honest, I was more concerned about you. You looked like death warmed over. She just looked asleep."
"Well, yes. But Sir Roger whipped me into shape. I had to take care of myself -- so I could take care of Beth. The thing is I don't feel like a rock. I hurt too. And, the longer
things drag on, the more serious misgivings I have about following my father-in-law's instructions."
Jack pulled into the parking lot of the car rental place and told Drew, "Fitz has arranged for a car. You go along and sign the papers, while I wait here. Then you can follow me back to the apartment."
"Okay."
"Maybe we'll hear from Officer Thibodaux by then."
"All right."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pontalba Apartments,
Downtown, Riverside
Jackson Square,
New Orleans, Louisiana, United States
Jack came out onto the wrought iron edged veranda where Drew was sitting, sheltered behind a thick curtain of vines, and handed him a mug of coffee.
Andrew took a tentative sip, choked, and handed it back. "Good Lord! Jack, that's the strongest, nastiest coffee I've ever had the misfortune to taste. If, it is, indeed, coffee and not river mud."
"Well, I used French Roast and added chicory. You know...'When in Rome...'"
"I've had coffee in Rome and it doesn't taste anything like that -- not even espresso."
"All right. I get it. No more coffee with chicory." He took a gulp, clearly savoring it, before he added, "Then you'll need to remember to specify pure coffee when you're in restaurants here. Otherwise, this is the witch's brew you're going to get."
"I wish we'd hear from Thibodaux. Don't you think he should have discovered something by now?"
"I'm sure he'll call..." Jack's words were interrupted by the ring of his cell phone. "Hello."
Andrew leaned forward, anxiously waiting for news.
"Yeah, I got it. And thanks. I owe you a good dinner -- you choose the place. Okay. Bye."
"Well," Drew asked, jumping to his feet as he said it.
"We've got an address. A woman resembling his girl has been seen on the far end of the Quarter. She's been working at one of the hotels as a chambermaid. But," Jack said, frowning, "she had last weekend off, and didn't show up for work two days ago.
"He's called the rooming house she'd given as her address. And they say that they haven't seen her since Friday evening. But, the room's paid for through the end of this week, so no one's really very interested in her comings and goings."
"Well, come on, then. Let's go over there," Andrew insisted, as he headed for the stairs.
*****
Andrew cringed. The outside of the boarding house was horrible. He didn't understand how it was still managing to stand, since it clearly listed to one side. The idea of Beth staying there sickened him.
Jack had parked near a fire exit. Then, they'd picked the lock, and slipped inside. They had no intention of announcing they were there, or who they were looking for. Especially, since they knew someone else had been searching for her. Besides, they certainly weren't planning on taking her out through the front door.
They climbed the back stairs as quietly as possible, considering how they creaked from their weight. There was one step, Andrew actually feared was going to give out before he could move off of it. And, as he stepped gingerly up to the next, he signaled for Jack to skip over it.
They found the door they were looking for without encountering any of the other boarders.
They stood outside and listened. Nothing. They knocked softly on the door. Nothing. They knocked a little louder -- but not enough to raise questions from the other tenants. Still nothing.
Jack took out his lock picks, selected one and worked on the lock, until, with -- what seemed like an extremely loud -- click, the lock gave way. Jack noiselessly turned the doorknob, and opened the door a little, very slowly.
The stench that greeted them was like a slap in the face. Urine, feces, and vomit melded together to form a pong that hung in the air like a cloud.
After taking a deep breath, Jack pushed the door completely open. A body was sprawled out practically filling the floor of the tiny, dingy room. And, when Andrew went to go inside, Jack did his best to hold him back.
"No, Andy. I'll go in. But...Andy...I think...I'm afraid we're too late."
However Andrew pushed past him, bent down over the body and called out, "No. She's alive, Jack. There's perspiration on her forehead. Corpses don't sweat.
"She's been ill -- very ill -- and unable to get up for a while, but," he said, as he felt her brow, "she's cool now. I don't think she has a temperature." He lifted her up, inwardly groaning at how frail she felt in his arms, set her on the bed, and then swaddled her in the thin, threadbare cotton blanket.
"Come on. We need to get her to the flat."
Jack didn't argue. He led them down the creaking stairs, through the fire door, and into the back of the car.
In reality, it took only a few minutes to make their way back to the apartment. But, probably, because of the maze of one way streets they were forced to negotiate, it seemed like an eternity to Drew. Finally they were safe behind the wooden gates that separated the courtyard from the busy street.
Jack unlocked the door and held it open for Andrew to enter. Drew carried Beth up first one flight of stairs and then the other. Then, he stopped at the top and called down, "Before you go for the doctor, could you please bring me a plastic cup or bowl or something I can use to ladle water over her? And a glass of chipped ice and a pair of scissors? Please."
"Right away," Jack answered.
A few moments later, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and when Andrew responded, the door tentatively swung open. Drew turned around, and gestured for him to come in.
Elizabeth was lying in the now filling old-fashioned, claw and ball foot tub, still swaddled in the blanket.
"What are you doing?" Jack asked.
"I'm softening the crud. Her clothes are literally plastered to her body from the sick. I'm going to have to loosen things up, and then cut her clothes off in strips. If I just pull at it, it will probably tear away some of her skin. That's how dehydrated she is. But, I'll have her cleaned up and ready for the doctor by the time you get back. I think she's all right other than being severely dehydrated.
"As I said, she doesn't feel hot, as if she has a fever. Whatever she had has passed. But, she wasn't able to get up for water, let alone food. Twelve hours or so with an IV and she'll be fine."
"You sure you don't need help?" Jack asked. "Although, I'm not sure what I could do that wouldn't embarrass Beth later on."
"Thank you, but I can deal with this. But," Andrew added, "as long as you said something, don't let her know how we found her. I mean, she doesn't need to know you saw her like that."
"Of course. I'll get going. I've got a certain guy in mind. Went to school with him. And, I've used him before. I know he understands the concept of discreet. I won't be long."
"Thank you," Drew answered, before he went back on concentrating on Beth.
Once Jack was gone, Andrew pulled a newspaper from the chair just inside the bedroom door, and spread it out on the floor. And, after he checked to make sure Beth was still sitting up against the back of the tub, he went into the linen closet, returning with a pile of towels, a washcloth, and another lightweight, cotton blanket.
Then he brought the scissors, glass, and the large plastic drink cup to the tub and started the tedious task of loosening clothing from Beth's skin, and cutting it away.
Eventually, the last of the awful polyester uniform fell away, and Andrew lifted Beth from the foul water, and wrapped her up in the clean blanket to keep her warm as he scrubbed out the dirty tub, and refilled it with clean, warm water.
He'd just gotten her unwrapped and back into the tub, when her eyelids fluttered open, and in a low, hoarse voice, whispered, "Andrew..."
"Yes, Bethy. I'm here. I'll have you cleaned up and in bed in just a few minutes."
"Water..."
"Here, Sweetheart," Andrew answered, as he pressed a sliver of ice between her lips. She sucked the shard into her mouth, and then greedily searched for more.
"I know you're very thirsty, but I can't give y
ou water. It might make you ill -- which would just make you more dehydrated. A doctor's on his way."
"But..."
"And, I'm sure once you're getting saline solution and glucose intravenously, you'll feel much better. In fact, I bet you'll be surprised at how quickly you feel better.
"Now," he said, as he spread his hand over her breast bone, while he gently pressed her forward with the other, "could you lean forward so I can get your hair wet. I'll wash it, and then we'll have you lean forward again, so I can rinse it."
He scooped up the clean water and poured it over her head, doing his best to keep it away from her face, especially her mouth. Then he quickly washed her hair, and rinsed it.
He could tell by the way she fell against the back of the tub that she had slipped into unconsciousness again. And he thanked a merciful God for that.
He hadn't been at all concerned about washing her arms, body, and legs, but he was certain that the doctor was going to want to catheterize her, to monitor her urine output, and make sure her kidneys were functioning properly.
Which meant it was imperative for her to be scrupulously clean in her more intimate areas -- and he didn't want her to wake up thinking she was being molested.
By the time Drew heard Jack call up to him, she was lying in bed, wearing an overly large tee-shirt he'd slit up the back, so it was like a hospital gown. He'd allowed her another ice chip or two, before she'd lapsed back into unconsciousness.
He was pleased to see the smile on Jack's face, as he walked in, closely followed by the doctor. But, only seconds later, his friend shoed them out of the room, insisting he and his patient needed privacy.
"There's some equipment in the car. Why don't you go grab it?" Jack suggested, "And I'll make some coffee." When Andrew scowled at him, he added, "Just normal coffee. I promise."
Andrew carried the box of medical equipment to the bedroom door, but, before he could knock, the doctor opened it, took the box from his hands, and instructed him to wait again, before he shut the door.
Duty With Honor Book Five: An Unexpected Pause Page 15