That decided, I told Dawg, “Time to get back in.” I opened the truck door for him. His happy face faded into a pout as he slowly climbed onto the driver’s seat. I leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Hang tight, buddy. We’ll be back out soon, and I’ll have a present for you.”
His nub of a tail wagged twice, and he settled onto the seat with an aggrieved sigh. He was a patient mutt, and I was glad he’d followed Coop and me out of his brutal former life as a lowly junkyard dog.
When I walked inside, I could hear Coop and Baz, who were seated in a booth in the corner of the restaurant, yapping at each other. Wonderful. I was just dying to mediate the two of them. I had enough to worry about dealing with my own temper. I hurried over to them and slid in next to Coop, who was in mid-tirade.
“—and Baz, you are a stupid fu—”
“Shut up, Mr. Goodie Two Shoes—”
“I try and do what’s right, unlike you, you two-bit thief—”
I elbowed Coop mid-roar. “All right you two, shut the hell up. We need to work together here, okay? Stuff your male egos back into your pants. We’ve got to figure out what to do now.”
Baz, his voice dropping immediately to whine territory, said, “He started it.”
Coop twitched his neck like a prizefighter although he never punched anyone that I knew of—not on purpose, anyway. He took a calming breath and tore his eyes from Baz to focus on me. “What’d you find out?”
“Next to nothing. The missing persons department took a report, but the detective made it sound like since they were of age, it was no big deal without blood or a corpse.”
“Great,” Baz said. “I’m going to die because we can’t find a stupid stuffed snake.”
Coop turned on him. “Don’t you give a damn about your aunt? She could be in as much danger as you. I can’t believe what a selfish son-of—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I’m going to the bathroom and I’m not coming back until you two can be civil to each other.” I stormed toward the restroom at the front of the restaurant, passing a weary-looking waiter carrying a huge tray of food I hoped was destined for our table.
Poor Coop. He was usually the epitome of sanity, unless he thought the cops were after him, which actually happened with some regularity because of his membership in the Green Beans. The current situation required his rational side, and I needed him to get off the Bashing Baz platform.
I dallied in the not-so-rosy-smelling restroom harvesting a field of strawberries on my phone’s farming app. I hoped by the time I was done the two boys would be over their little snit. Crops harvested, I tucked my phone away and was about to grab the door handle when it swung open with so much force that it hit the wall with a thud. I stepped back in surprise as Coop charged in.
“What—” I began, but Coop cut me off.
“Come on, we have to go. Now.” He grabbed my hand and literally dragged me out of the restroom. The panicked look on his face shut my mouth. I allowed myself to be trundled out the front door and into the parking lot, with Baz trailing behind juggling three Styrofoam containers.
“What happened?” I asked as Coop let go of my arm.
“Eddy called me, Shay. Your phone was kicking into voicemail for some reason.” Coop’s voice was as grim as the expression on his face.
My heart about stopped. “What?”
Baz blurted, “Rocky disappeared.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”
I was usually quite levelheaded, and I possessed a fair amount of common sense, with one big exception. When people or things I loved were threatened, I tended to see red and act without clear thought. My firm hold on rationality flew right out the picture window. I’d inherited this challenging trait from my alcoholic father, who was a shining example of how not to handle yourself in confrontations. In high school I’d been nicknamed the Tenacious Protector and earned the reputation of standing up for the nerds in class. Sometimes I went a little too far and landed in the hot seat in the principal’s office, sporting ice packs on various body parts. Right now, I wanted to beat the crap out of Baz for getting us into this.
With effort, I drew a calming breath and held back the crimson tide. I blinked, and Coop, his face whiter than usual, and Baz with his load of containers came back into focus.
“Okay.” I swallowed and ran both hands through my hair. “I’m fine. What did she say?”
“They found an all-night poker game—”
“I was right.”
Coop said, “Yeah, you were. The game lasted almost twenty-four hours, and Eddy sent Rocky back to the room to get some sleep. Apparently it wasn’t more than two blocks back to the hotel.”
“But—” I began.
Coop held up his hand. “Let me finish. When Eddy and Agnes returned yesterday afternoon, one of the beds had been slept in, but Rocky wasn’t there. They both figured he went out exploring, and they were so exhausted they crashed.”
“Excuse us,” I said to a couple with two toddlers trying to get to the entryway of the restaurant. We drifted toward the pickup and I said to Coop, “Go on.”
“Eddy woke up last night about eight, and Rocky hadn’t come back. She didn’t think a whole lot of it, because it wasn’t very late. When she got up this morning, he was still gone.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Could Baz’s thugs have gotten to them already? No way. The timing wasn’t right. Was it? I squeezed my eyes shut for a long moment. “Did she call the police?”
Baz’s head swiveled from me, to Coop, then back as I spoke, but he remained surprisingly silent.
Coop said, “Yeah. They took his information and said they’d look for him. Agnes and Eddy are staying near the hotel in case he comes back.”
The uncontrollable need to take the reins and force everything back into its rightful place rocked me. “Coop, we need to go to New Orleans.” My gut ached at my inability to fix this mess immediately, right now.
Coop gazed at me for a long moment. He nodded once. “I thought that’s what you’d say. I didn’t tell Eddy about Baz’s issues. She got off the phone too fast.”
Baz broke his silence. “I’ll find somewhere here to hide out until the excitement dies—”
“You most certainly are not staying here.” I whipped around to face Baz and advanced on him until my nose was almost touching his. “You’re coming with us, you little weasel.” I poked him hard in the chest. “If they have Rocky, we can use you to make an exchange.”
“Shay!” Baz screeched. “You can’t do that to me!”
The wave of rage reappeared in less than a heartbeat and bubbled dangerously close to the surface. “Listen, you asshole, if anything happens to Rocky—or anyone else—because of your irresponsible bullshit, I’ll clean your fucking clock myself.”
Coop’s hand was on my shoulder. His long, thin fingers squeezed into my skin. “Shay! Easy does it. Calm down.”
What a role reversal. I was usually calming down Coop. I shook off his hand and straightened, sucking in a lungful of oxygen. “Come on, then, let’s go.” I turned my back on both Coop and Baz, beeped the truck unlocked, stalked over, and crawled in.
Coop came around the passenger side, and after urging Dawg in the back seat, he slammed the door and buckled his seatbelt. He pulled a crumpled pack of Bubble Yum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and crammed two pieces in his mouth. He chewed violently for a moment, then muttered, “I need a smoke.” Louder he said, “I know you’re pissed, but we need you. Stay with me, here, okay?”
The engine rumbled to life. I put both hands on the steering wheel and willed myself back from the brink.
I resisted the urge to back over Baz’s ass as he struggled into the truck bed, then I placidly drove out of the parking lot.
We wolfed down our now-cold breakfast on the way to drop Dawg off at the café. After explaining the essentials of the situation to Kate, she was more than happy to dog-sit. She also agreed to coordinate covering my shifts and h
aving the missing pane of glass in Eddy’s door repaired. I wanted to call the police and report the break-in, but after enough badgering, pleading, and tears from Baz, I relented. The thugs got what they wanted, and there was no reason for them to return.
I left Coop and Baz in the coffee shop and scooted upstairs to my place. I stuffed a change of clothes and some toiletries in a backpack and ran back down the steps. After some belly rubs and Dawg tongue, we drove first to Coop’s apartment and then to Baz’s house for travel necessities and boogerless pants.
As we drove from point A to point B, Coop called Delta and made reservations to New Orleans for the three of us, paying with my credit card.
After driving in circles to make sure Baz’s new friends weren’t skulking behind us, we killed time at the Mall of America’s MagiQuest, the world’s largest live action role-playing game. Not my first choice of distraction, but Coop liked the place, and it effectively kept us out of sight until we had to be to the airport. I amused myself by periodically whacking Baz in the back of his head with my wand as we progressed through the game.
At noon we hung up our wands and drove to the airport. It took only a few minutes to pull into the long drive leading into the Lindbergh Terminal, now generically known as Terminal 1.
I pulled into the long-term parking ramp, followed the spiral to the third floor, and parked. We actually helped Baz out of the back end of the truck instead of watching him flounder his way to solid ground this time, and then we hiked into the terminal to endure security lines and await our flight.
Just before takeoff, I tried Eddy one more time. To my surprise, she answered. Relief flooded my veins.
“Eddy! Am I ever glad to hear your voice.”
“The feeling’s mutual. Coop told you about Rocky?”
“Yeah. We’re coming down.”
There was a pause. “I don’t know that you need—”
“There is a need. We’re at the airport, at the gate.” Before she could respond, I plunged ahead. “In fact, there’s a little problem up here that might be headed your way. I need you to change hotels.”
“Change hotels? Why? What if Rocky comes back and we’re not here?”
How much could I share without wigging her out completely? The full explanation needed to happen in person. I pulled a deep breath. “The short version is that Baz is in trouble again.” I chewed on my lip a moment, then asked, “Do you guys have a stuffed green toy snake with you?”
“Why, yes. Agnes gave it to Rocky before we left. He loves it.” I could practically hear the gears turning in her brain. In my mind’s eye, I saw Eddy’s brow furrow and one eye narrow in suspicion. “Why?”
“Baz took the snake from one of the jobs he was doing, and they want it back. Bad.”
“That Basil.” Eddy said. “I thought he learned something from that last mess he thieved himself into.” She harrumphed. “Rocky had the snake wrapped around him when we saw him last. I imagine he’ll still have it. Unless … ”
My stomach clenched. “Don’t even go there, Eddy. He’s fine.” I hoped I was right. “Anyway, do you think you can find another place to stay that’s close to where you are now?”
“You bet. I’ll go down and talk to the nice bartender. He knows everything, and he makes a darned fine Hurricane.”
“And let the front desk know where you’re going so they can get a hold of you if Rocky comes back. Eddy, I really wish you’d get a cell phone.”
“Pshaw. Those things give me the hives. I’ll call you on your fancy phone when I find out where we’re going and leave you a message if you don’t answer.”
We disconnected, and by then it was boarding time.
In Louisiana, Coop flagged a taxi, and we crammed ourselves along with our bags into the back seat, with Baz between us. I checked my voicemail, but there were no messages. I pressed myself against the door and watched Coop do the same on the other side. If the driver hadn’t had the front seat filled with various books on the occult and two stuffed voodoo dolls, I’d have asked if I could have ridden there. As it stood, I didn’t want the driver to stick straight pins into either of the freaky-looking dolls on my behalf.
The man behind the wheel smiled wide, his teeth a brilliant flash of white against his dark skin. A fedora perched at a jaunty angle on his head and he peered at us in the rear view mirror through bloodshot, chocolate brown eyes. He said, “Name’s Reggie. Welcome to New Orleans.” He drew out Orleans and said it as Or-lee-ans. I was beginning to realize I had no idea how to pronounce the name of this town correctly. He continued, “Where can I take y’all on a fine day such as this?”
Baz blurted out, “The Café du Monde. I need some beignets.”
We had time to kill until Eddy let me know which hotel they’d moved into, so I didn’t protest. I had visited New Orleans once before, many years prior, but the memory was mostly hazy. Too many Bourbon Street Specials. The one thing I recalled with vivid clarity were hot, sweet beignets floating in powdered sugar at two in the morning. It wouldn’t hurt anything to swing by there. My stomach growled at the proposition. It had been a long time since we’d eaten our cold Perkins breakfast.
“The Café du Monde it is,” our driver announced, and we were off.
Forty-five minutes and a wealth of fascinating and horrifying New Orleans tales later, our driver and tour director deposited us at the corner of Decatur and St. Ann, in front of the imposing columned building that housed the French Market and the Café du Monde.
“That’ll be forty bucks, my new friends.” The driver handed me a white business card over the frayed front seat. “Y’all need a ride, you give me a shout, hear?”
REGGIE “THE EVERYTHING NEW ORLEANS” CABBIE was emblazoned across the top of the card in bright blue, with a cell phone number printed underneath.
“Thanks.” I exploded from the cab like a cork popped from a bubbly bottle. As Baz worked himself out, I asked, “You have any money for the fare?” Once he’d extracted himself from the vehicle, he dug in his pocket and pulled out three dimes and a quarter.
With a shrug he said, “I used what I cash I had at Perkins.”
Not only did I pay for his airfare, it looked like I was going to pay for his taxi ride and beignets as well.
“I’ve got it.” Coop thrust a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a substantial wad of bills. The man was a computer genius, and since he’d started hawking his computer skills to the needy, his financial situation had much improved. It started when he helped some of the Mad Knitters—Eddy’s pseudo-knitting, poker-playing and occasional cigar-smoking posse—with their computer skills. The mini business blossomed from there. Now Coop was designing customer rewards programs for bingo halls, hotels, and casinos.
He peeled off a fifty and passed it through the passenger window to Reggie. “Thanks, man,” Coop said and slapped the roof of the car as the cabbie pulled away.
Baz was already headed into the café. “What are you waiting for?” he called over his shoulder.
“You should be waiting for us, doofus. We’re the ones with the money.” I itched to whap the back of his shiny head. Coop and I followed him into the café’s open-air seating area beneath the signature green and white striped awning.
Round bistro tables and Fifties-style chairs with greenish-yellow vinyl sat beneath the canopy. White-aproned waiters wearing paper serving hats moved with astounding grace between the tables, serving up sets of three beignets to drooling customers.
We hoisted our bags and threaded our way to the end of the take-out ordering line, which, thankfully, wasn’t overly long. The aroma of freshly cooked sweet dough and chicory coffee drifted through the air, and my mouth watered. For once, Baz had had a good idea.
Beignets procured, Baz, Coop, and I made our way to the curb as we munched on the sugary confection. Jackson Square, kitty-corner across the road, was the hub of artistic and impromptu goings on. The square bustled with painters, tarot card readers, and street performers.
Next to Lady Liberty, a punker chick with a pink Mohawk and fatigue pants sat on an upended five-gallon pail, drumming a hypnotic rhythm on three plastic buckets of varying sizes. A black-furred canine assistant gently collected tips in its mouth and deposited them in a bowl that lay on the ground in front of the mime’s feet. Every so often, the statue would shift position, earning shrieks of delight from the children watching raptly from the sidelines.
I wiped sticky fingers on a napkin, tossed it in a nearby garbage can, and adjusted my backpack. Coop had already snarfed his own beignets down, and I could tell from his restless pacing and the white of his knuckles as he strangled the strap of his messenger bag that he desperately wanted a cigarette. “Hang tough, big guy.”
He nodded and went back to walking the edge of the curb. We waited for Baz to wolf the rest of his snack down, which was going to take a while since he’d had the balls to get a double order. Powdered sugar coated his lips, and a white smear of the stuff somehow adorned his forehead. The travel bag between his feet was sprinkled liberally with powder.
Coop said impatiently, “Hurry up, Baz.”
“I’m trying.” Baz held the bag containing his goodies in one hand, and a half a beignet in the other. He shoved another bite into his mouth as soon as he swallowed the previous one. Suddenly, Baz made spastic motions with one hand and tried to say something. Beignet and powdered sugar sprayed from between his lips. I thought he was choking, and I pounded on his back.
Baz violently shook me off, his eyes wild.
Coop’s “What the—” was drowned out as Baz blew the last of the chunks of donut from his mouth. He yelled, “Run!” and dropped the half-full bag of beignets. He left his travel bag on the sidewalk and sprinted across the road.
Hide and Snake Murder Page 4