by JM Gulvin
‘Sure, I’ll fetch him for you. Hold on.’
Pious came on the line and his tone was grim. ‘What gives, John Q? I’ve seen what-all they’ve been saying about you and it don’t look good.’
‘That photo I gave you,’ Quarrie said. ‘I think it came from the Fort Worth Star. I want you to give them a call and ask for a snapper called Dixie Wells. Tell him I need him to take a look at the photo. I doubt he’ll drive all the way out to the ranch. Can you meet him in Wichita Falls?’
Hanging up the phone he went downstairs to Canal Street in newly falling rain. With the onset of evening the clouds had blown in from the gulf. He drove across the Quarter and stopped a couple of blocks west of where Nana lived. It was dark on the street and few people were walking; he turned his collar to the rain. At the corner he gazed towards the river and Cabildo, scanning the lines of parked cars. Finding no trace of the Lincoln his attention focused on the lighted windows of the apartment. He rang the bell at the gate then stepped out onto the street so Nana could see him when she came to the balcony doors. The buzzer sounded, the gate clicked open and she greeted him at the top of the stairs.
‘John Q?’ she said. ‘I thought you told me you being here wasn’t any good for me.’
‘I did, didn’t I.’ Climbing the steps Quarrie smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I can take off again or come back tomorrow if it’s too late.’
‘No, it’s not too late.’ She ushered him into the apartment. ‘All this rain, I guess you’re happy to see it at least.’ She took his jacket and hung it on the stand in the hall. ‘Gigi called earlier and told me how there ain’t been a drop over there since fall.’
She led the way into the living room and Quarrie noticed her thirty-eight lying on top of the cabinet. ‘Expecting some company, were you?’
She didn’t smile. ‘I don’t know, sometimes I have a feeling, something I used to get back in the islands when I was a child. Old as I am it still creeps up on me once in a while.’
‘What kind of feeling?’ Quarrie perched on the lip of the couch.
‘Oh, like someone is scratching the skin between my shoulders maybe. My grandmother used to say it was the fingernail of a witch.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s a fact I don’t believe in any of that juju stuff, but I worry when my back starts to itch.’
Picking up the handgun she slipped it into the drawer then went to the kitchen and came back with a pitcher of julep and two glasses.
‘Nana,’ Quarrie said, ‘I need to talk to you about Ross Tobie.’
‘Rosslyn,’ the old woman corrected. ‘It’s always Rosslyn, Rosslyn F, in fact. I never once called him Ross. That was his son’s name but he died of meningitis when he was nine years old.’
‘On the phone you told me he’d been coming around and he was here again today.’ Quarrie gestured to the road. ‘This morning, I was outside when he came down and got in his vehicle. You said how he hadn’t been by in a bunch of years so what’s with the visits now?’
Pouring a glass of whiskey Nana took a small sip then replaced it on the coffee table. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘He came around the night of the fundraiser all full of himself like he always was. Never said what it was he wanted or why he should show up out of the blue. He was here a second time and was asking about Gigi, how she was, if she was doing OK.’ She looked past him then, a distance in her eyes as if she were lost in some memory she wasn’t sure she wanted to recall.
‘Nana?’ Quarrie said.
‘He told me he wanted to make sure she was all right, said he’d been meaning to look us up for a while.’ She looked at him closely again. ‘Today he said how he’d been reading about you in the newspaper, all about that missing pharmacist and the detective from the 3rd Precinct.’
Quarrie nodded. ‘Nana,’ he said, ‘you told me on the phone I was messing with the kind of folks best left alone. I think Rosslyn Tobie’s one of those folks, so who am I dealing with?’
She looked at him then with the light in her eyes that might have been fear. It might’ve been something else.
‘Who is he exactly? What can you tell me?’ Quarrie said.
She twisted her mouth at the corners. ‘I don’t know what I can say. He’s a lawyer, I guess, businessman. Got him a wife and grown-up daughter. His son died right around the time we got together and all he could talk about was that boy. It seemed to me it wasn’t a son he lost so much as what he symbolised.’
‘I don’t follow. What do you mean?’
She upturned her palms. ‘I’m not sure I know myself. But he used to talk about legacy and history, his business and all, how he had to make sure there was someone to carry on after his time was done.’ She broke off for a moment and then she said, ‘I wasn’t his only mistress and I know he had other kids. It’s a fact there’s probably another son out there somewhere but he wouldn’t admit to it, not with the folk he mixes with.’ She was silent again, her gaze fixed on the world outside where streetlights flickered through the falling rain. ‘I was thirty-seven years old when I started seeing him and I doubt he was twenty-nine. I figure it was three years we were together then we broke up and it was another eight before I saw him again.’ She looked back at Quarrie then. ‘1935, I remember exactly because Gigi turned eight years old the day they shot Huey Long.’
Her expression was no longer remote. ‘John Q, do you know who Huey was?’
Quarrie nodded. ‘Yes, mam, of course. He was the governor here in Louisiana, had designs on being president.’
‘The Kingfish is what they called him and I remember Rosslyn really hated that.’
‘On account of how he was a rich man you mean and Huey was pitching some idea for sharing the wealth?’
‘Rich ain’t the word for it.’ Nana gestured to their surroundings. ‘To a man like Rosslyn this apartment was nothing but chump change. It’s why he never so much as bat an eye when I asked him to sign it over to me.’ She paused for a moment before she went on. ‘I recall how we broke up around the time Lizzie Miles got sick and Lizzie was a friend of mine. She used to come over here when she hadn’t had to take to her bed. Had some opinions on her did Lizzie and she’d harangue me about my soul. She kept on and on till finally I told her . . .’
The words tailed off and she dropped her gaze. ‘I remember she thought the way she got sick was some kind of punishment from God on account of how she’d been lauding it all with her fans. I told her that was just a bunch of bullshit and if God gave her that voice, for sure he’d want her to use it. But when she got better, when she took to performing again she never set foot on the stage, just used to set to the side.’ She drew breath through her nose. ‘Before she got sick she spent a lot of time in Paris, France; and she wasn’t short on telling me how over there I’d be a courtesan, though we got uglier words for it here. It didn’t make no mind what she said. It didn’t matter what anybody said. I had my own way of doing things and I knew who-all he was, but none of what anybody wanted to say bothered me enough to stop that man climbing into my bed.’
‘Nana,’ Quarrie interrupted. ‘You said how Lizzie was easier on you after you told her something. What was it you said?’
The old lady did not answer. Instead she took another sip of minted whiskey. ‘I ain’t proud of it, the kind of life I lived, but it’s a fact I ain’t sorry for it either.’ Her gaze had stiffened a fraction. ‘You’re right about what you said just now though, rich men and Huey Long. That sharing the wealth thingamajig you talked about, he wanted to pay for it by taxing men like Rosslyn Tobie, and not just their businesses but their private holdings as well. Sometimes I think that’s why Rosslyn was happy to sign this apartment over. He used to joke that if I didn’t get it then Huey would and if I owned it at least he could still come visit.’
Pausing for a moment, she went on. ‘Rosslyn was old-school south. You know what I’m talking about, the kind of family that went back to the days of the Grand Isle auctions when folks like me sold for seventy cents on the pound. That’s why L
izzie had the attitude she did. Figured I was allowing myself to be bought and sold all over again. I remember one time with Rosslyn and old Judge Pavy . . .’
‘Benjamin Pavy you mean?’
‘That’s right; him they hounded out of office after Huey passed his election boundary bill.’
Quarrie looked closely at her then. ‘Nana, Judge Pavy’s son-in-law was the man that shot Huey Long. Carl Weiss, he was gunned down right after by Huey’s men.’
Nana looked wary. ‘Yes, he was. Right there in the Capitol Building. I remember how Rosslyn was when he finally showed up again with Huey in his grave and the boy that shot him, dead. A politician going after their money, it was un-American, Rosslyn said.’
Briefly she shook her head. ‘Funny how when anybody tries to change things for the regular folks in this country up pops somebody else. Medgar Evers I’m talking about, John Kennedy; be Dr King next, God forbid.’ Making the sign of the cross she kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘I recall saying as much to Rosslyn but he told me that’s how it’s been since Lincoln and his slavery bill.
‘Anyway, he came around again after all that time gone by wanting back in my life and he’s a man who gets what he wants.’ She nodded to the spare bedroom. ‘I remember when we were done with the monkey thing he’d lay back and look at those snakes in the posts of yonder bed. Pit-vipers, copperheads they were,’ she said.
With a sigh she got to her feet. ‘That man sure liked the sound of his voice. He’d talk about anything and everything because me being black and all, he didn’t think it mattered what he said. It’s been twenty years since I last saw him but the way he talks to me now is the same way he always did.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Quarrie said.
‘I mean how that man really is. It don’t matter what he’s telling me, he’s exercising his power all over again.’
‘What power?’ Quarrie said.
Lifting a hand she gestured. ‘He’s letting me know that it don’t matter how many years gone by nothing has changed and nothing ever will. Gigi, I’m talking about, what-all happened with us. She doesn’t know about any of it and as far as I’m concerned she never will.’
‘Know about what?’ Quarrie said.
‘How she ain’t my niece, she’s my daughter and Rosslyn Tobie’s her dad.’
Eyes half-closed she stared into space. ‘That was the reason we broke up. I was pregnant and Rosslyn was real pissed off. Lot of folks knew about him and me and he didn’t want anybody figuring him for having no colored kid.’ She crossed to the window again. ‘I guess we cut a deal. He’d sign a quit claim on the apartment, but only if I went away till the baby was born and had Gigi brought up by a couple of old mammies so nobody’d think she was his. I reckon I needed to secure our future so that’s exactly what I did.’ She looked at him with the hint of fear in her face. ‘I remember when I first told Rosslyn I was pregnant he wanted to get rid of the baby altogether. I was almost four months gone by then though, too late for any backstreet doctor. There wasn’t anything he could do short of murdering the both of us and if I gave him cause he would.’
‘Gave him cause?’ Quarrie said.
‘Yes, sir, he made that clear right from the get-go. He was talking about me contacting him. I wasn’t allowed to do that. I could never ever call his house.’ A shudder rippled through her and she sat down on the couch. ‘You’ve seen that cane he carries. It ain’t for walking. It’s a weapon is what it is.’
Quarrie was still trying to get his head around what she’d said about Gigi. Squatting on a Queen Anne chair he looked across the coffee table.
‘A man like that there’s only one way to deal with him.’ Nana’s gaze drifted to the cabinet where she’d stowed the gun. ‘I don’t mind telling you I thought about it back in the old days and just recently I been thinking about it again. If you’re right about him being involved then it’s down to him what happened to Gigi.’ Looking at Quarrie now her gaze was thin. ‘The law can’t touch him. It never will.’
‘He told you if you called his house he’d kill you?’ Quarrie said.
‘Not in so many words. But I know if I ever did he’d come up here in the dead of night and bury that walking cane in my head.’
Twenty-eight
The next morning Quarrie drove to Tulane Avenue. Stopping at a curbside phone, he slotted a dime and called the DA’s office. He made a point of asking for Moore and they told him he was still sick so he asked if the DA was in. They said he wasn’t taking any calls.
Back in the car he took the ramp beneath the coroner’s office and parked in a bay where he could see right across the concourse. He studied the shadows from the driver’s seat until he was satisfied he was unobserved. Then he got out and locked the door.
A few minutes later he opened the concertinaed gates from the elevator into the bathroom where a middle-aged man in a business suit was leaning against the wash basin with his arms folded and a pipe clamped between his jaws.
‘Well,’ he said, looking Quarrie up and down, ‘are you going to tell me who you are and what you’re doing in my private bathroom?’
‘My name’s Quarrie, Mr Garrison. I’m a Texas Ranger.’ Quarrie showed him his badge. ‘I need to talk to you, sir, without anyone knowing I’m here.’
‘So you’re the one they’re writing about in the newspaper?’
‘Yes, I am. And what I got to say you’re going to want to hear.’
They went through to Garrison’s office where the door was standing open. Casting a glance the length of the corridor Quarrie closed the door and when he turned again the DA was looking a little perturbed.
‘I can open it if you like,’ Quarrie said. ‘But what I have to tell you, you might not want anyone else to overhear.’ He related what happened in Lafayette Square and from the look on Garrison’s face he could see that no one had told him the story before. Garrison regarded him carefully for a moment then he sat down behind his desk and opened a drawer. Pipe in his left hand, he rested his right on his thigh just ahead of the open drawer.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he said.
Quarrie nodded. ‘I went up on the roof of the Old Post Office right after and when I looked down the body had disappeared.’
‘And who witnessed the episode exactly?’
‘Nobody, that’s the point, it was coming down hard with rain and that’s the only lookout across the whole square. I think the shooter might be a young guy who drives a cab. He was outside the Lakefront Airport when I first got in and he’s been there every time I’ve needed to go anywhere since. I figured he was on Lieutenant Colback’s payroll at first because he was the only person who knew I was coming down here.’ Pausing for a moment he added, ‘Now I’m thinking there might be another leak somewhere. Mr Garrison, you’re not the first person in this office I talked to. I already told Pershing Gervais.’
For what seemed an age the DA sat there. Then he told Quarrie to open the door. When he turned again he could see the way Garrison’s hand was still hooked just ahead of the drawer.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I know how this must appear, some cop from out of state the papers are writing about showing up in your bathroom with a cockamamie story about one of your investigators, but you don’t need it the piece you got back there. I’m a Texas Ranger and we’re not in the habit of bullshitting anybody. That’s not the way we are.’ He paused then added, ‘Colback can vouch for me if you feel you need to give someone a call. Talk to him or my captain back in Amarillo. The fact is I’m not some half-ass runaround. I’m here on account of a murder in Wichita Falls.’
Still the district attorney studied him. ‘What happened when you spoke to Gervais?’
Quarrie sat down on the arm of the couch. ‘He told me to come in through the parking garage and wait till he came down. Before he shows up, though, someone’s got a gun to my head and I wake up on the wharf in Algiers.’ He could see the doubt in Garrison’s eyes. ‘Mr Garrison, don’t take my word on any of this. I kno
w somebody called here claiming to be Earl Moore’s wife. Why don’t you get on the phone right now and ask if her husband is there?’
The DA seemed to ponder that for a moment then he pressed the intercom button on his phone. ‘Jennifer,’ he said, ‘call Earl for me, will you? Ask his wife how he’s doing and if we can expect him back anytime soon.’
In silence they waited and a few minutes later the phone buzzed and Garrison picked up. He listened to what he was told and his features tightened a little then he put down the phone. He looked tentatively at Quarrie for a moment before he went to close the office door.
‘All right, Sergeant. You have my attention. Moore’s wife says she was called by somebody from this office who said her husband had to go out of town.’
Quarrie took a second to digest that. ‘Mr Garrison, I’m going to level with you, sir. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in your office. I was here the other night trying to find out why someone would want to kill Earl Moore.’
‘So it was you.’ Garrison’s expression was sour. ‘I thought someone had been at my desk. Just who do you think you are?’
Quarrie upturned a palm. ‘Breaking and entering, I know, it’s a habit I need to get out of but I figure you should hear me out just the same. Trace Anderson, the dead man in Texas, he was murdered with a bottle of prescription drugs that caused a blood vessel to burst in his brain.’
Garrison’s eyes tightened a little bit more.
‘Proloid,’ Quarrie stated. ‘It’s a drug you’ve come across before.’
For a few moments Garrison stared at him then he opened his top drawer and withdrew the files Quarrie had been looking at when he was here before. Selecting one he placed it on top of the desk then he got up and went into the bathroom. When he came out again he had an empty pill bottle in his hand. No cap; Quarrie could see that the label had been torn off as well.
‘You found that in an apartment on Louisiana Avenue Parkway,’ he said.
‘That’s right.’ Garrison nodded.