by Julie Smith
"Well, I was supposed to take something to this house, see, and Larry said, "Wait'll you see the joint. You think this one's something—you're going to a mansion, baby.' Well, I had a date with Evie and I thought she might like to see it, you know what I mean? So I took her over there."
"On the bike."
He looked at her as if she was crazy. "Yeah, on the bike."
"The package must have been kind of small."
"What package? You lost me."
"The thing you were delivering."
"Oh. Well. It was more of an envelope. A letter, maybe."
"Business size? Manila envelope? Eleven by fourteen? What kind of letter?"
"What do you care?"
"Okay, let's leave that for now. So you had Evie and the envelope on the bike. And you went to this mansion. Where?"
"Out near Bayou St. John. You ever been out there? Man, they got some places."
"Uh-huh."
"It was addressed to some woman, but this guy answered the door. See, I left Evie outside—I thought it looked more professional—and I just went to the door to take the thing, and this guy said come in. I said, I can't, I got my girlfriend with me, and he said fine, no problem, bring her on in and have a drink. So I looked around, kind of automatically, you know how you do, and Evie was standing by the bike holding her helmet. She always hated the damn helmet—took it off every chance she got. She had on these pants I got her—I got her black leather pants for the bike, can you believe that? Turkey! Major turkey.
"She had on these pants, see, and they kind of fit like the skin of a tomato or something, and her blond hair was hangin' down, all shiny in the sun, and she had on shades. She looked like a movie star, I swear to God. Well, naturally, I wanted to impress her by askin' her to have a drink in this amazing Hollywood mansion. This guy was really slick, you know, with some hundred-dollar tie and all that shit—"
"What was his name?"
"Well, now that is a question."
"Why?"
"I didn't pay attention to it." He slammed his fist on his bed-side table. "Do you believe that shit? I just didn't goddamn listen."
He rubbed his lip. "Or maybe he never said. I mean he said 'Maurice,' that much I know, but what else did he fuckin' say? You know how many times I've asked myself that?"
"Couldn't you just ask Larry?"
He shook his head. "Not cool. Definitely not cool."
"Why does it matter so much anyway?"
" 'Cause he took Evie, that's why. I never even fuckin' saw her again."
"What do you mean he took her?"
"He fuckin' swept her off her feet, right there in front of me. He talked to her and not me, you know how a person can do that? Like make you feel like you don't exist? And she acted like I didn't exist. She just fuckin' forgot about me. I'd try to say somethin', like join in the conversation, you know, and they wouldn't even answer. It was just the two of them alone in the world. After a while he asked her if she'd like to look around the house, and she said sure and they both just left me sittin' there. Can you imagine what that felt like? just me, sitting all alone in that big ol' house."
"You're right, Manny. You're a real sensitive guy."
"So I left."
"That was it? You cut her out of your life, just like that, because she flirted with another guy?"
"Flirted! She was fuckin' all over him."
"That was really the last time you saw her?" Skip was sorely disappointed. She couldn't find one useful fact in this story.
"Hey. I was in love with her. Did I mention that? You think a guy like me can't fall in love? You think love doesn't happen for people you don't like? I walked out 'cause I was mad, but I tried to get her back. I wasn't gonna leave it like that, I just wanted her to see how bad she acted. I wanted her to really unnerstand it, can you get to the bottom of that, or is that too much for you?"
"Go on."
"So when I called her, she wouldn't talk to me."
"No! After you acted like such a gentleman and all?"
His tiny eyes turned into dangerous slits. "You enjoy bein' a bitch or what?"
"She wouldn't talk to you ever again, have I got it right? Hung up when you called?"
"No, she didn't hang up. She told me she was only gone for five minutes, and said why couldn't I act like a gentleman, and I said—oh, never mind what I said, but then she did hang up. So I let about a week go by—lettin' her stew, see? I mean, that's what I thought. But when I called, she said she was involved with someone else and wouldn't be seein' me again."
"Did she say who?"
"Well, it was him. Who else would it be?"
"I don't know. Aaron Neville, maybe."
He sighed. "God, I wish I had a cigarette."
"Did you ask her?"
"Yeah, I asked her. You could say that, I guess. I said, it's that slick asshole, right? Maurice. And she said, 'It's a pleasure to be around a gentleman for a change.'
"Well, I thought she should give me the damn pants back, so one day I went over there, and there he was. Answered the door at her house just like he did at Anna's."
"Anna? Who's Anna?"
"What does it matter, dammit? You're ruinin' my timin'."
"Sorry. Then what happened?"
"He pulled a gun on me."
"And threatened you?"
"Yeah. If I ever bothered his precious Evie again."
"Was that the last time you saw her?"
"I didn't even see her that time. But trust me, it was the last time I even thought about tryin'. I know you don't think Larry's all that savory a character, but I never seen him point a gun at nobody. That Maurice—now there's a piece of work."
"Back to this Anna for a minute. I get the feeling that's the woman the letter was addressed to. Did you meet her?"
"No. Didn't see a soul but Maurice. He said he'd give her the letter"
"You said it was Anna's house—how do you know that?"
A puzzled look settled on his features. "I just assumed. I mean, because it was her letter."
"What was her last name?"
"It was . . . He closed his eyes. "Oh, shit, I know it. Leonardo. No, Dante. Shit, that's not it. Something long; some dago name you've heard before. You know, some dude that, like, did something. Like that guy who invented the telescope. Some name like that."
"Galileo?"
"Yes! No. Let me think—is it Galileo? Garibaldi! It's fuckin' Garibaldi! He was something too, I swear to God—he didn't invent the telescope?"
"You sure?"
"I swear. It's Gari—fuckin—baldi."
"Great, Manny. I'm impressed."
"That I knew who invented the telescope? I graduated high school, you know. I'm not as dumb as you think."
He looked hurt; maybe he was sensitive.
"No, impressed you remembered who the envelope was addressed to."
"Well, that's why, see. Because of the telescope. Gari-fuckin-baldi—I'll never forget it again."
"Now here's another one. Can you remember the address of the mansion?"
"Hell, no. How the fuck I'm supposed to remember something like that?"
Skip shrugged. "Just a thought." She was silent a moment, trying to figure out where to go next.
Manny said, "Jesus fuckin' Christ, I need a cigarette." He sat up and began working at his IV, tearing the tape off his arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"What?" was all she could say.
What am I? His chauffeur?
"I'll take you there. To the mansion."
"Manny, it's okay. lust give me the name of the street and tell me what it looks like."
"No way. I'm outta here."
"Manny. Hey. Look, you got hurt out there. You can't just go racing around with a concussion."
"Watch me."
He had the needle out of his arm by now and had flung the covers aside. He was wearing only a hospital gown that exposed his legs, and if he turned around, she knew she was going to see a lot more of Manny than she really wanted
to.
"Throw me my pants, will you?"
Instead, she pressed the button for a nurse, and opened the door to the corridor. "Got to go, Manny. Stay out of trouble."
She went to the nurses' desk and told them Manny was about to run out on the bill, hoping that would qualify as an emergency.
"And by the way," she added, "may I see a phone book?"
Anna wouldn't be listed, but she had to look.
There was a John Garibaldi. She dialed and a child answered.
"Is your mama home?"
"No."
"Is her name Anna?"
"No, that's my auntie. She's really nice. She takes me to get ice cream and things."
"Ah. Well, I have a special present for your auntie. Can you tell me where she lives?"
"In the house with the wall."
Not four walls?
"On what street?"
"On our street."
"She lives near you?"
"Uh-huh. I have to go now."
Skip noted the street name. It was near Bayou St. John. She sighed. Just to make sure, she really should check the reverse directory.
Manny was racing down the hall, chased by four nurses.
"Hey, Manny, would you say it was a house with a wall?"
He stopped in the middle of the hall. "How the hell did you know that?"
"I'm psychic." The nurses were starting to swarm over him.
"Go back to bed, okay? I'll bring you some cigarettes."
But she wouldn't. She knew it even as she said it.
The City Directory was irrelevant now. She went to find Anna's, thinking just to drive by, to get the feel of it. Anna might be "really nice" to her little niece, but Maurice had been there the only time Manny had, and when next seen, he'd had a gun. She'd need backup to approach.
The wall, she thought, must separate the house from the street. And sure enough, when she got to the John Garibaldi address and drove another block, there was such a house. And there was a gardener trimming the ivy that grew on the wall. She got out of the car with her clipboard. "Is this the Garibaldi home?"
"Who wants to know?"
"I do. Why?"
"Why you want to know?"
"I'm conducting a survey." She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a ten.
He took the ten and shrugged. "She's home."
But Skip didn't want to knock on the door, not without backup.
"What you waitin' for? She's home."
"I have a free gift for her."
Funny term, free gift. Is there any other kind?
She opened her trunk and pretended to look for it. The gift wouldn't be there, of course, and she'd say she had to go back to her office to get it. Still, she wished she'd never spoken to the gardener.
She thought she heard something behind her, and she was conscious of a blur—sornething in motion. And then a searing pain at the back of her skull, the thin part, she had been told.
24
Her hands wouldn't move. When she tried to wiggle her fingers, make a fist, anything, she couldn't. Worse, she had no feeling in them. She was alive, though, because her head was killing her. It must be a nightmare. She willed herself to wake up.
Her eyes flew open.
She was in a room she'd never seen before, a hotel room perhaps, but a very fancy one, so well done it looked almost like a real room in someones house.
She wasn't alone. Another woman sat in a chair in the middle of the room, reading a magazine, facing away from her.
She tried to sit up but she couldn't. Her hands were above her head, attached to the bed, like Jesus on the cross. This was no nightmare, except metaphorically. She could see them if she looked up, secured to the headboard with duct tape.
She remembered the name, "Anna Garibaldi." Could that be Garibaldi in the chair?
"Anna? Are you Anna Garibaldi?"
The woman turned toward her. "You're awake. I was worried about you."
Skip recognized her face. "Reed Hebert."
"Reed Foucher, actually. How do you know me?"
"Jesus shit." Skip had just realized the import of the situation.
"What's happening here?"
"Do your hands hurt? I wish I could help you." She twisted so Skip could see that she was handcuffed.
Okay, so she was Reed Hebert and she was a prisoner. "Sally!"
Frantically, she swiveled her head, looking for the little girl she knew wasn't there.
"You know me, and you know Sally, but you're not one of them. What are you?"
"A cop."
"Oh, shit."
"Yeah. Not exactly the cavalry. Where's Sally?"
"Here somewhere. She's fine, but we're all prisoners."
"Who is we?"
"Sally, me, and my sister Evie."
Skip nodded. "I know about Evie."
Reed's face was suddenly alarmed. She'd apparently realized Skip probably had news. "My dad! You must know—"
"I'm sorry, Reed. He didn't make it."
She looked away. "I knew that. I don't know why I asked."
"How did you know?"
"I felt it." Reed turned toward her again, her moment of mourning past. "How's my mom? And Dennis?"
"Your mom's okay, and Grady's okay."
"You know Grady?"
"At this point I know just about everybody you do. I'm Skip Langdon, by the way."
"Oh. Don Langdon's daughter. Your parents are regulars at Hebert's."
Skip realized that if she had met Arthur, he would have known her too. She had been in the paper more than once since she got transferred to Homicide; New Orleans being a village of about half a million, and her dad being a popular doctor among the Uptown set, she had a certain dubious fame. It made her uncomfortable, but she was used to it.
Reed said, "You didn't say how Dennis is."
"He isn't hurt, it isn't that. It's, uh . . ." She didn't know how to break it to Reed.
"He's using again."
"I'm afraid so."
She looked away, and when she turned back, her face was wet. "Oh, Evie, why did you do this?" she asked the wall.
"Look, Reed, I know about Evie coming to your parents' house and taking Sally. I know about you following. But that's all I know. Where are we? Who's holding us prisoner?"
"We're near Bayou St. John."
"I know that. I meant, what is this place?"
"All I know is I followed Evie here, and some people were leaving. I called to them to help me, but they didn't, although Lafayette Goodyear looked like he was going to."
"Wait a minute. You knew these people?"
"Sure, they're all members of the casino board. You know, Hebert's is going to run the restaurant in the casino."
"Yes." The whole city knew that.
"Well, when we were trying to get the concession, I had to appear before the board a lot—and then go talk to everybody and have lunch, all that kind of thing too. So, yes, I know them.
"I know them well.
"And they just stood there and watched me and my daughter get kidnapped."
Skip felt an icy hand clutch at her insides.
"Maybe they didn't recognize me." She paused, staring into space. "But I did call them by name. I guess they didn't realize what was happening."
I cannot believe the lengths to which the civilized human will go to make excuses.
Anything to avoid the all-too-obvious conclusion.
She didn't find it a charming quality. "What happened next?"
"People grabbed both of us; and Sally. Evie was holding Sally. They brought me here, and a very scary woman came in and asked me some questions, but I couldn't answer any of them."
"Who was the woman?"
"I think of her as the Dragon. She didn't say her name, but she was like no one I ever saw. Dark, but she didn't have an accent. I mean, she looked foreign, but she wasn't. A long face; older."
"Why did you say she was like no one you ever saw? What was different?"
; "There was something regal about her—something commanding. Women aren't usually like that." She sighed. "I wish I were, though. Don't you?"
Especially now.
"But something else. There was something very sad about her, lines around her mouth or something; as if she hadn't gotten what she wanted out of life." She paused, apparently trying to reconcile the two impressions. "I don't know, though. I saw her again, and she didn't seem that way at all. I mean . . . regal, larger than life. She seemed scared or something. Off balance. I don't know what."
"You saw her again?"
"Yes. You see, they locked me in here, handcuffed to a chair in the daytime and to one of the beds at night. So I can't move. Also, I can't hear anything. Do you think this place could be soundproofed? I never hear a phone ringing or footsteps, or anything. I never hear—you know—Sally. But Evie brought her in once. I mean, just like—I don't how to say this—just like a sister. She's never done anything like that in her life."
"She brought her in? Why?"
"That's what I mean. So I could see her, I think. So Sally could see me. It was a kindness."
"How does the woman fit into this? Anna Garibaldi." The name slipped out unconsciously.
"Anna Garibaldi?" Reed looked supremely puzzled.
"That may be who the Dragon is."
"That's somebody we do business with. My father knows her well."
Skip was interested. "Tell me more."
"Well, she owns the fish company we order from, but I think she has some connection with the casino as well—that would explain why half the board was here the other night. I always dealt with Mr. Daroca at the fish place, but Mrs. Garibaldi's been calling the restaurant a lot lately—for Dad. They've been having all these long, whispered conversations over the last few weeks.
"In fact, I think it's something to do with our getting the concession. He negotiated with her, I'm pretty sure of that, I heard him. But I don't know what her job is."
"Tell me about the second time you saw her."
"While Evie and I were talking, she came with some of her henchmen. And took them both away." Her eyes moistened. "I hope they don't beat Evie or anything. She actually did something for Sally and me. I think she realized the baby needed to see her mother—that's really something after what she did. But then she was drunk."
"When she kidnapped Sally?"
"Yes. She told me. She told me everything about it. She did it because a guy she met had told her a lot of lies and given her false hope. So she thought she could get Sally back and they could all be a family."