“I’ll take another bottle of water if it’s at the beer booth. Don’t wait in two lines,” I said back to him in his ear. This put us in very close proximity to each other’s lips and his found mine, giving me a lingering see-you-in-a-few-minutes lip lock.
Jiff walked off in search of a short beer line and an even shorter bathroom line when my skin started to crawl and I felt the presence of Little Tony slithering up next to me.
“So that’s your new squeeze?” He spoke in rhythm with this wise-guys’ bouncing thing he had going on. Problem was Little Tony wanted everyone to think he was a wise guy but he wasn’t even clever, let alone, wise.
“Yes, he is. Now go away.”
“Too bad you’re with him today or we could, you know, hang out. Are you bringing him to the wedding?” He kept bouncing, unwrapping a stick of Wrigley’s gum, and then putting the pack in his pocket without offering me a piece.
“I haven’t decided. It depends on how ugly the bridesmaids’ dresses are and how bad I look in it,” I said without thinking. Luckily, Little Tony didn’t care how anyone looked in the dresses, only if he could get a bridesmaid out of one.
“You know, Angela’s gonna have two really, really good bands, and, uh, you know, we could dance up a storm, you and me, if you don’t bring a date.” He pimp-bounced out this easy to refuse offer in time with the gum chewing.
“Really, two bands?”
“Yeah, dat’s right. The first band is for everyone, you know, that blows off the church part and gets there early. Dat band is gonna play until the wedding party finishes with the photos upstairs, and band number two will start when Angela and my dad dance their father/daughter dance. Then, they play for the rest of the reception.”
“What two bands did they choose?” I asked, wanting him to keep talking so I didn’t have to say anything to him. I was thinking that none of the band members from Julia’s fiasco had yet to return calls to the investigator or Julia about their dead band member, last I’d heard.
“One of them is playing here today, the Levee Men, you know, they play up and down the Mississippi. You know, and…”
“The Levee Men—the don’t-hold-anything-back band?” I cut Little Tony off. This was the name of the band we were trying to find. “Do you know them or how to get in touch with them?” My skin was getting prickly at the thought that I could follow up with them and ask about Guitarzan’s habits and friends.
“Yeah, you know, I can hook you up.” His head was starting to look like one of those plastic bobble dogs. I had to stop looking at him. I didn’t want to get a headache in this heat.
“You can? When? Right now? Do it, right now. Call them on your cell so I can talk to someone right now.” My heart was racing at the thought of asking them some specific questions about Julia’s dilemma.
“You some kinda nutso fan? Why you gotta talk to them right now?”
“Just do it, please?” I smiled.
“So, you know, I do this for you, you gonna dance with me, right, at the wedding?
Jiff returned just as Little Tony was about to make the call. He had a big grin on his handsome face and was holding two VIP All-Access passes.
“I really want to go see The Levee Men if we can get to their tent,” I said to Jiff. “Never mind that call, we’ll just go over there,” I said to Little Tony and put my hand on his stopping him from making the call on his cell phone.
“I’ll see ya’ at the, you know, wedding.” Little Tony was yelling the bounce talk at my back.
“What wedding? When?” asked Jiff.
“My childhood friend, Angela, I went all through school with is getting married. The rest of her family is really very nice. That was her goofy brother and he makes my skin crawl.”
“Am I going to be, you know, your date.” He was making fun of Little Tony and bounced when he talked, bobbing his head up and down like a bobble head doll.
I was laughing when I said, “I don’t know. I’ll decide after I see what dress Angela picks out for us.” I put my arm through his and my head on his shoulder. He was tall, just the right height for me and he kissed the top of my head. “I’m not sure if I want you to see me in whatever dress I’ll be forced to wear.”
“You’ll be the prettiest girl there, no matter what you have to wear,” he said.
It was a record crowd and in this heat no one was moving fast so it took awhile to get across the inside field of the track to the very opposite end where the Levee Men were playing. Jiff flashed the all too wonderful ALL ACCESS VIP PASS and Security lifted the rope and allowed us to enter backstage. We were offered soft drinks, alcohol, beer, wine, and a variety of snacks. A sushi chef was on hand preparing trays, which were being scarfed up as fast as he could roll it out. Jiff got our drinks and then we were directed to sit in an area on the stage to the side of the performers.
This was heaven.
I took this time to inform Jiff why I really wanted to see and speak to these guys if time allowed. He was fine with it. We both knew of and liked their music and this way we could have a little howdy time before I started grilling them on the habits of their missing guitar player. After the band members came onstage, they tuned up a few minutes then came over to socialize with the fans in the VIP section. We introduced ourselves, telling them we were fans and enjoyed their music. The singer, who said his name was Maurice, looked at me and said, “Really, your name, your real name is Brandy Alexander? You’re not an entertainer, are you?”
I smiled and told him the brief story how my dad and his brother waited in a bar for me the night I was born and came up with the name they thought just seem fitting with the last name of Alexander for a New Orleans girl.
“It’s not even her favorite cocktail,” Jiff said laughing. “But, now it’s mine.” He put his arm around me and gave me one of his adoring looks.
I saw a guitar player taking extra time tuning up. “New guitar player?” I nodded toward the new guy.
“Yeah, we lost a good friend and band member right before this gig,” said the lead singer, Maurice. “We almost thought we’d have to cancel playing the Fest but this guy has played with us in the past so he knows our set.”
“Sorry to hear that,” answered Jiff for both of us and I realized this was a clue to give it some time before I pressed on. I wasn’t going to bring up being friends with Julia and where Guitarzan bought it until the band could see we were on their side. I’m sure the band, like the police, were convinced Julia was guilty and all that was left to do was schedule her lethal injection.
“Well, Miss Brandy Alexander, I’m going to dedicate our first love song we play today to you and this guy. Y’all look great together.” To Jiff he said, “That’s a hot babe you got there. In fact, come to our after party tonight. I’ll have our manager give you a couple of passes.” I gave him the same big smile I gave Little Tony. Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. He waved at his manager, held up two fingers, pointed to us, then he walked over to rally the band to gear up for their set. Now we were invited to a party where I could talk to all of the band members and see who knew what.
Chapter Eight
“Wow, I’d love to go with you to Le Petit tonight with your extra ticket. You know how I love the theatre but I already have plans. Jiff had the all access pass at Jazz Fest and we were invited by the lead singer of The Levee Men to their party tonight,” I told Julia over the phone.
“Well, Miss La Tee Da,” Julia said. “I’ll look for your photo on the society page.”
“I don’t think so, but this is good for you. This is the band your dead guy played in.”
“I’m painfully aware of who they are since they cancelled their reservations after Gervais, well, you know,” she snipped. Julia had a one way view of the world, and that was the world according to Julia.”
“Cancelled? I think you were in jail and the police along with the crime scene people wouldn’t let them check in,” I said.
“Well, that might ha
ve had something to do with it, sure.”
“Well, Julia, even though the world is against you, I am still on your side.” I was glad she couldn’t see the eye roll I added. “I want to see what they know or at least find out if he met up or had problems with anyone here. You should be thanking me. I think this evens the score from when I asked you to wear that gorilla suit to help me sneak into the hospital and talk to Jiff the night he was shot.”
“Help me get past this ordeal and, yes, that score is settled. I’m terrified this is now so out of control. I really appreciate you standing by me and having my back. Most people are looking at me like I’m going to bash their head in. The cops aren’t investigating any further. They think I’m guilty and that’s that. They’re just waiting for the trial.”
“Well, I know you didn’t do it and Jiff got one of his female investigators an invite to come along with us tonight to this party. You know, bands will never say no to bringing an extra girl to a party. She will snoop around and see if she comes up with anything.”
“Thanks. Let me know if y’all find out anything,” she said, then hung up.
***
Jiff and I arrived with his female private investigator, Michelle, at The Oak Leaf Bar about 10:30 p.m. and security barely looked at the passes before waving us in. The bar was crowded with the eclectic group of normal patrons, the uptown crowd who liked live music and had been loyal followers since their college days, college kids from Tulane and Loyola, musicians and Levee Men fans or guests. The cool thing about The Oak Leaf was that peoples’ paths crossed with decades of age differences to dance to funky New Orleans music, sometimes until dawn. The common denominator was fun and music. Jiff pulled me by the hand out to the dance floor and Michelle went to work. She was a cutie. She had a pixie haircut, big eyes and a fashion model’s face. Jiff said she could sell snow to an Eskimo. It wasn’t long before she and Maurice were chatting it up, having a drink and sitting nose to nose at the bar.
We joined them after a bit to get a refueling drink for more dancing. Maurice was smiling and talking it up with us. After a few minutes he said he should visit some of his guests but he’d be right back. Michelle briefed us immediately.
“Maurice offered up the sad news of late. I really didn’t have to ask. He said his friend, the lead guitar was recently killed, had an old girlfriend who still lives here in New Orleans. He said the band saw her as bad news and a crackpot he couldn’t shake. She moved in with Gervais and his roommate. Gervais moved out and went on the road with the band to get rid of her. His roommate finally had to kick her out by changing the locks. She would show up at gigs, like a stalker, after he said he broke up with her and then he’d get back together with her for a few weeks or months. Then they would do it all again. It was a vicious cycle and she wanted to get married. It seems she could ease back into his life by always having cocaine available. The band also said some guy followed her around letting her cry on his shoulder and Maurice is pretty sure that guy would give her the drugs. Maurice said the ex-girlfriend was a real nut job and wouldn’t take a break up seriously. Her name was Violet Fornet. She gave him some purple stone on a leather necklace he never took off. The stone was supposed to ward off drunkenness. Maurice said Gervais would drink more when she was around. Then he’d try to pick up any girl to give Violet the message he wanted to call it quits. Problem was every time he drank; he drank too much and passed out. Violet was always the one waiting to carry him home. He and the band guys told Gervais to give her back that necklace and you’ll get rid of her. They said it was like a talisman that had a voodoo grip on him. As long as he wore it she kept turning up and wouldn’t leave him alone.”
“You work fast,” I said, smiling at Jiff. “The necklace wasn’t on him when Julia found him but she said he’d had it on the night before. If Violet took it, when? Julia was with him all night.”
Jiff finished his beer and said, “I came here to dance. Good job Michelle. If you want to leave, call a taxi to take you home. I’ll pay for it.”
“If I’m off the clock, I might stay and dance myself. I’ll wait and see if Maurice comes back. We might need to follow up with him and I don’t want him to think I dumped him. I kinda like him anyway. I’ll see if he knows where this woman lives or if she shows up, maybe he’ll point her out to me.”
“Michelle is like a Venus Flytrap and Maurice is the unwitting insect. She’ll eat him alive and he’ll be happy to let her,” Jiff said into my ear.
We went back to the dance floor and all too soon, the night was over, working on Saturday morning. We joined the band and their dates for last call. Michelle was still there, all smiles for Maurice. They seemed to genuinely like each other. We sat at a couple of tables pulled together and one of the boys toasted their dearly departed friend, and lead guitar band member, Gervais ‘Guitarzan’ St. Germain. We raised our glasses, toasted their friend and then the stories spilled out.
“It sounds like he had a good send off,” the keyboard player said, “before he bought it. I heard he got it on with the babe at the hotel.”
The drummer added, “My money’s on ‘ole Violet having something to do with it.”
“Yeah, bummer.” The bass player shook his head and sat with his eyes closed playing air guitar.
“Find Violet and you might find some answers,” Maurice said.
“Is that her real name?” I said to no one in particular. “She didn’t show up here tonight? It seems she would want to share some time with his friends.”
“Well, that’s because she knows none of us like her. She knew Gervais’ soft spot, which was drugs, and exploited it. He was a good guitar player when he was straight. That means, when she wasn’t around. Too bad she didn’t run off with that weirdo that followed her everywhere. If Violet was actually in the band, that would have made that guy her groupie,” the drummer said to the keyboard player. “But, us not liking her, or the skinny guy following her or us around, never kept her from stalking Gervais and bringing him what he could not refuse—cocaine. I bet she knows he’s dead. I think your girlfriend keeps her informed.” He air quoted the word informed when the keyboard player’s girlfriend left the table for the ladies room.
“My girlfriend stopped associating with Violet or Violent, as she now calls her, after she drugged our dog and it died. Violet wouldn’t admit to it, but the vet said it was given Rohypnol, you know, roofies. Rumor is the skinny guy who followed Violet was her drug connection. We think he’s the one who slipped it to a gal or two at one of the places we’ve played, I guess he was hoping to get lucky since Violet was all into Gervais. We think that’s where she got it,” the keyboard player said to the group. “My girlfriend still gets upset over our dog so she leaves whenever Violet’s name comes up.” Then, he answered me, “Her name is Violet Fornet. She’s a waffle waitress at Pancake Paddy on Canal.”
“You think this woman killed your dog?” I was almost out of my seat when Jiff grabbed my thigh by way of holding me down and sending the ‘not the time or the place’ message.
“Not just our dog, but the neighbor’s dog also. Same thing happened to their pet about a week before our dog. We didn’t think it was Violet until she was staying with us when our dog died.”
I could hardly stay in my seat. I wanted to find this woman and pound her. What kind of person gives drugs to someone’s pet? “Pancake Paddy? Isn’t that close to the end of Canal by the cemeteries?” I asked.
“Yeah, right. Most of us are from all over south Louisiana and don’t have relatives to crash with here so we were supposed to stay at that new B&B near it until Gervais was killed.”
***
Jiff spent the night at my apartment. It was early Saturday morning when we got in and we stretched out on the floor, my head on his shoulder and discussed what we’d discovered over the course of the day and evening we spent together. We fell asleep like that. We woke up when my dogs stretched and shook themselves awake. When we didn’t get up immediately, they barked, pounc
ed on us, licked and playfully nipped at our ears.
“Boy, they’re better than an alarm clock,” Jiff said.
Just then I heard the key in the front door and my roommate, Suzanne came in. I made some quick introductions. Suzanne looked dead on her feet.
“Nice to meet you, but you have to excuse me, I worked all night and have classes this afternoon so I really need to get some sleep. Later,” she said as she drifted off to her bedroom.
I explained Suzanne and I grew up on the same block and I moved in with her right after I met him. She worked nights and I worked days and we rarely saw each other except when she came in sometimes. It was the perfect arrangement. It felt like living alone but having someone to split the rent with.
Jiff made breakfast while I fed three Schnauzers, my dog Meaux Jeaux and two rescues I was currently trying to find homes for. He fixed us scrambled eggs while I dished out the bowls of food in my doggie soup kitchen.
“Who takes care of Isabella if you don’t go home?” I asked.
“You remember Sam, our Security Guard? Of course you do, he adopted one of your Schnauzers. He takes Isabella for a sleepover with Einstein. Those two dogs love each other. I guess it’s professional courtesy since they’re both Schnauzers and Isabella isn’t too friendly with other dogs.”
Jiff was breaking pieces of bagel off to give to the three pair of eyes staring at him when they started barking at a knock on the kitchen door. When I opened it, there on the other side of the screen was Dante. He went white with anger when he saw Jiff at the stove with the skillet.
“Seems I caught you at a bad time,” was all he could spit out.
“No, not really, do you want to come in?” I asked trying to push open the screen door. Dante put his hand on it and kept it closed.
“Call me later if you want this info I have on Julia’s tox screen,” he added, “if you’re interested.” He spun around going down the back stairs and around the side of the house to the front where he’d parked. I took off after him.
Dead and Breakfast (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 2) Page 6