Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  Decatur and Peters about converged at one end. At the third building along Peters, swinging double doors, cowboy-style, and impenetrable gloom on the other side, made an uninviting entrance to Double Ds.

  “Why would Guy come to a place like this?” Joe asked. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

  Spike leaned against a doorjamb and crossed one foot over the other. “What does the type seem like?”

  “Hell. How should I know? I’ve never been here before but I’ve got a feelin’ is all. Are we gonna loiter or get on with this?”

  Spike straightened, threw open the bar doors and let them go once he’d passed through. Joe managed to make a catch before he got slammed.

  “Eau de booze,” he said to Spike. “The sawdust on the floors is a nice touch.”

  “Practical, I shouldn’t wonder.” Spike squinted around. “It’s a dump but it’s got atmosphere,” he said. “I think the spirit of victims past just whispered, ‘Watch your wallet, and your back.’”

  Booths marched along the back walls and repeated thuds on wood came from table legs on the uneven floors.

  Stools lined a long, carved wood bar and a mirror missing chunks of silvering tossed out distorted images of the patrons who slouched there. Lanky Guy Gautreaux sat all the way on the left side, talking earnestly to a barmaid with flowers in her long black hair. A telltale foot remained on the floor. It might be slowing Guy’s personal Ferris wheel and it probably kept him from rubbing his face in the sawdust.

  “He’s gotta know the barmaid,” Joe said. “He’s holdin’ her hand and yakkin’ like she’s his only friend.”

  “A barmaid is every drunk’s friend,” Spike pointed out. “Let’s get us a booth where we can be pretty much invisible while we watch and wait. He’s gonna need us before he’s finished. See if I’m not right.”

  “I don’t like doggin’ him around like this,” Joe said, but he followed Spike into a booth and sat against the wall.

  “Neither do I, but he owes us an explanation. We’ve been straight with him. Know what I think? He’s not much of a drinker and she knows it—like you said, she knows him. That isn’t a fine, pale single malt he’s having. She’s watering his bourbon to cut down how pissed he gets.”

  For the middle of the day the place was fairly full. Two other bartenders moved smoothly and rapidly from one end of the counter to the other, dispensing drinks with both hands. Occasionally they glanced at the woman but with only faint annoyance. For her part she tried to disengage her hand and couldn’t. Joe felt grateful that whatever Guy poured forth wasn’t loud enough to be heard by the rest of the clientele.

  “Shit,” Spike said. “I think he’s cryin’.”

  “What can I get you two handsome boys?” a waitress wearing laced-on red satin asked. “It’s wet out there but it’s hot. It’s hot in here and it’s time you got hot, too.”

  Joe managed not to remark on her originality. “I’ll have a Coke—” A hard kick under the table stopped him. “A rum and Coke. Lots of ice.”

  “You’ve got it, heartthrob.”

  “I’ll have vodka on the rocks.” Spike smiled at the woman and said, “Nice outfit. You’re probably the only woman in the world who should wear it.”

  She winked at him and left.

  “Well, the lawman has a silver tongue,” Joe said. “Wait till I tell Vivian.”

  “She knows.” Spike smiled with one side of his mouth. “I learned on her. Easy lessons.”

  Joe nodded and grinned, and looked around the bar. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, not that there was much to see but broken-down guys trying to stub out butts in ashtrays. Darn it if those things didn’t seem to move every time a man took another stab at it.

  “You got it in mind to keep the lady there all day?” a loud, slurred voice asked. A man leaned back from the bar to glower at Guy. “How’s about sharin’ so the rest of us don’t have to wait so long?”

  “Here we go,” Spike said. “We should get him out of here.”

  “Too late.” Joe pushed to the edge of the table and got up from the bench. “Will you look at that? Quick, before he kills someone.”

  In not more than a minute the loudmouth had left his stool to make a menacing approach on Guy. Drunk or not, Guy sprang up, caught the guy’s head in one large hand and pushed it down. At the same time he gripped the back of his shirt, spun him around and used his belt to haul him high on his toes.

  “Give it a second,” Spike said. “It could pass real quick and that would help all of us.”

  Nothing passed quickly. Guy had his new friend dancing and clutching his crotch. What he yelled was blessedly incoherent.

  Other stools emptied and those who didn’t stagger into something closed in on Guy in the midst of his little entertainment.

  “Move,” Spike said.

  They pushed their way to the bar and Joe said “Guy” really loud and grabbed the detective’s chin until their eyes made contact.

  On Guy’s other side, Spike bent the hand on the belt backward till Guy let go. The dancer spun around and swung at the same time. His punch landed on Spike’s shoulder.

  Guy stood there with his head hung forward and making noises Joe hated.

  A bouncer appeared, taking his time, and looked at Spike and Joe awhile before sending several men out for fresh air.

  “Come on,” Spike said. “Help me get him back to the booth. We need to sober him up before we leave.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Guy said, still looking at the sawdust-covered floor. Joe and Spike each took an arm and helped him to navigate the tables and fall into the booth. Joe sat beside him and shoved him along to the wall, where he’d have a tough time getting out.

  Spike took their untouched drinks and put them on a vacant table.

  “We just missed you at the station house,” Spike said. “Good thing someone knew where you’d probably be. Looks like a good place to have a private talk.”

  Guy put his head down on the table.

  “What’s going on?” Joe said. The longer it took to sort the man out, the more opportunity their joker had to work on his next plan back in Toussaint. He shook Guy’s shoulder. “Why did you drop out yesterday, then call Cyrus with an excuse about having to check in here this morning?”

  “Go easy on my friend.” The barmaid stood at the edge of the table, hanging on with short, unvarnished nails and whitened fingers. “You don’t know him so well, do you? He never mentioned anyone like you.”

  “Like us?” Spike gave her his full attention. “Can you translate that?”

  She reached past Joe and patted the back of Guy’s hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “These are hard times, Guy. You got a right.”

  “I—”

  She interrupted Joe. “He don’t have many friends. If he’d talked about you I would have remembered. Are you friends?”

  Joe thought about it. “Yes, I guess we are. We haven’t known him long but he’s likable.”

  “You some sort of law?”

  “I am,” Spike said promptly. “Sheriff’s Department out in Toussaint.”

  She shook her head. “That explains it.”

  Guy lifted his head, rested his chin on a hand and looked sleepily at the woman. “Don’t you worry your head, Sue. I can take care of myself.”

  “Do you think these men are your friends?”

  “Yeah. They’re okay.”

  She looked to be in her late thirties. Her hands had worked plenty, but despite dark marks under her eyes she was a pretty woman. “You know I’m here for you?” she said to Guy, who nodded and tried to smile.

  Joe studied each of them and raised an eyebrow at Sue.

  “Nothing like that,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re just buddies, not that I haven’t tried to make more of it.”

  “Does he come in here like this a lot?” Spike asked.

  Sue frowned at him. “Come in here and get drunk, you mean? Guy, they don’t know you.”

  Guy shrugge
d and closed his eyes.

  Spike looked around to see who might be listening. Apparently satisfied, he scooted in and patted the seat beside him. She didn’t hesitate to sit down.

  “Why are you here?” she asked before either Joe or Spike could get an advantage on her. “What does Guy matter to you?”

  “I can handle this,” Guy said.

  “He matters,” Joe said, and meant it.

  “Don’t,” Guy mumbled. “Any way you cut it I prob’ly end up dead.”

  Sue made a little noise. “Don’t you say that, Guy Gautreaux. I won’t let some crazy kill you. Y’hear?”

  Spike met Joe’s eyes and they made an unspoken pact to let these two do the talking, at least for now.

  “No reason to live,” Guy said, taking a shuddering breath. “Don’t care anymore. ‘Cept about you, cher.” His effort to smile at Sue fell flat.

  “That’s right. You need to stick around for me. Who’s going to come when I need a strong man on my side?”

  “You can have any strong man you want,” he muttered. “But I’ve lost everythin’, includin’ my will. Can’t see a way out.”

  “Okay, give up, then,” Sue said, her voice low and mean. “But I think I owe it to myself to see if this pair can help me out with you.”

  She waited, and when Guy just held her in his unfocused stare she turned to Spike. “He lost his girl. Never saw two people love the way they did. Did you know that?”

  Spike said, “No.”

  “Waste of time,” Guy said. “Love gets in the way of life.”

  “He and Billie Knight would have died for each other.”

  “Holy shit,” Spike murmured, and fell against the back of the booth.

  Joe felt as if he’d been punched.

  Guy sneered. “So she died for me. I’m a bastard. If she never met me she’d be alive right now.” He poked at the scarred tabletop with an index finger. “Bastard.”

  “She wouldn’t have let you say that,” Sue told him. “You made her happy.”

  The waitress brought black coffee and put it in front of Guy. For an instant Joe thought the other man might sweep it off the table, but he picked it up and drank unsteadily.

  “Are you hearing me?” Sue asked Guy. “Billie told me herself that without you she wouldn’t have wanted to be alive.”

  Guy closed his eyes. “I know how she felt. I’ve got one thing left to do. I’ll find whoever got to her and there won’t be anyone left for a trial.”

  “Listen to yourself,” Joe said. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “Why didn’t you tell us Billie Knight was your girl? Listen, Guy, we all want the same thing. Let’s work together.”

  “She didn’t ask for much,” Guy said. “It was me, I put the job first and that’s how I killed her. She wanted a little ring to show how we were an item. And she hoped for marriage and babies, only I decided they didn’t fit with my life. Tilton said she went there and tried on the ring all the time. It wasn’t even expensive.”

  Tears glistened on Sue’s cheeks. “I didn’t know that. You told her she couldn’t wear a ring?”

  “I might as well have. But I never knew about it because I’d taught her what areas to stay away from. She was probably scared to mention it. I was a goddamn fool but I’d have got her the ring…I would now. I wish I could get it for her now.”

  Joe’s throat hurt and a glance at Spike showed he was suffering, too.

  “We’re with you,” Spike said. “We’ll work as a team and we’ll get this one—for Billie, okay?”

  Guy didn’t respond.

  Joe ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to see Ellie. She shouldn’t have gone off alone in the city—she never should be alone. “Guy,” he said. “Will you help us make sure Ellie doesn’t die in the meantime?”

  “She’ll be fine.” Guy sounded steadier and he downed the rest of his coffee.

  Joe said, “When I try to go to sleep, I see her dead. It happens every night. Whoever attacked Billie is tied up with—”

  “Probably,” Guy cut in. “What can I do about it? I’ll have my hands full doin’ what I’ve got to do before they make it too difficult for me. You better hope I get him before he touches her, otherwise it’ll be too late, anyway.”

  Spike rested his elbows on the table and looked into Guy’s face. “Who are ‘they?’ The ones who could complicate things for you?”

  “NOPD,” Guy told him. “I was suspended the day Billie died, for insubordination and what they called dereliction of duty because I wouldn’t work with a partner on the case and I took off on my own. Maybe I should have told them about Billie and me. They never met her so they didn’t know.”

  When her cell phone rang, Ellie was still huddled in the darkness, in a corner of the booth behind the one where Joe and the others had sat. “Hello,” she said, and listened to him telling her to meet him whenever she was ready.

  “I’m ready now,” she said.

  She heard street noises over the phone and he cleared his throat. “Give me ten minutes. Why don’t you wait for me at Johnny’s on St. Louis. It’s only blocks from where you dropped me off.”

  Ellie felt cold. If she thought it would do any good, she’d run outside right now and go after him. He didn’t intend to tell her anything about what he had learned today. “That’ll be fine,” she said. Only it wouldn’t. She loved him for caring so much about her but not for behaving as if she couldn’t deal with the truth; he didn’t believe she’d been the victim of any diversions. He thought she was a murder victim in the making.

  “You okay?” Joe asked.

  “Fine. I almost didn’t get past square one with the hospital. Or the police, I suppose I should say. I did get to a nurse who made a slip, though.”

  Joe actually seemed to listen to her. “What kind of slip?”

  “They think Lucien could have been attacked by more than one person.”

  27

  “I’m sober,” Guy said. “Listen to me. I talk fine.”

  Spike stood beside the van he had used for the drive to New Orleans, looked at his feet and sighed. He talked to Guy through the open passenger window. “You look drunk and you trip over your feet. You can’t go back to the Majestic like that and I don’t think it’s a good idea to take you to Rosebank. Vivian would be fine with it, Charlotte, too, but it wouldn’t be so good if a guest saw me bringin’ you in.”

  “Okay.” Guy leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. Just as quickly he opened them again, blinked and looked green. “So let me stay in the van. I’ll sleep in back.”

  “That won’t cut it. Wait here.”

  At least he’d remembered to take the keys out of the ignition. Spike ran from the parking strip to the rectory and sneaked rapidly toward the kitchens. Doubled over, he hurried beneath the windows to the corner, then along the back of the house to the far end of the big window overlooking the garden and the bayou. Knowing a place well could be helpful. Unless he had the rotten luck to discover folks sitting at the kitchen table and, therefore, staring right at him when he took a look inside, this was the perfect spot to see and not be seen.

  Spike looked, grinned and retraced his steps. Lil worked over the stove. Engrossed in adding stuff to a pot, she’d be unlikely to leave the kitchen in the next few minutes.

  He got to the van, opened the passenger door and groaned to find that Guy had fallen into a restless, moaning sleep.

  “Out you come,” Spike said.

  Not a word from Guy—or not the words Spike needed to hear, or the reaction he needed to have.

  Guy was big. He might be rangy but his height made moving him more difficult. Spike maneuvered the other man into a shoulder lift, managed to shut the door of the van and set off for the front door.

  He didn’t knock, just went in, immediately saw Cyrus and Madge through their open office doors, and carried on to climb the stairs with Guy.

  When he got to the sitting room the other two were right beside him, and Madge rushed
to the couch to arrange pillows for Guy’s head. Spike let his load slide down, straightened the man up on his side and stepped back. He was short of breath, damn it.

  Guy stirred and slitted his eyes.

  “You’re okay,” Spike told him. “You’re among friends.”

  Madge spread a light blanket over Guy and tried to move him to a more comfortable position. Cyrus stopped her, patted her back and smiled into her eyes. “I know you’re superwoman but you’re embarrassing Spike and me.”

  She returned his smile for longer than necessary, Spike thought. “Guy,” she said, “would you like some coffee? Somethin’ to eat, maybe.”

  His face twisted with revulsion and he shook his head. “No, thank you. Sorry. Really sorry. I—” He lost consciousness again without finishing.

  “Let him sleep there,” Cyrus said. “Later he can get into a decent bed and take the night to…to rest up.”

  He went to the door and indicated for Spike and Madge to follow him. Outside he whispered, “He’s going to regret this even more later. Did Lil see him?”

  “Nope,” Spike said. “She’s busy in the kitchen.”

  “God is good,” Madge commented. She went first down the stairs but paused at the bottom to wait for Spike and Cyrus. “Will Lil get suspicious if we shut ourselves away?” she whispered.

  Cyrus shook his head and went directly to the kitchen. “Lil?” he said, beaming at the housekeeper, whose blond corkscrew curls had started to unravel. “Why are you working so hard? This has been a long day. What are you doing?”

  With one hand bracing a wooden spoon on the bottom of a big pot, and the other hand on her hip, Lil gave Cyrus one of her “He doesn’t live in the same world as the rest of us” looks. “I’m making your dinner. A good gumbo if I do say so myself.”

  “Everything you cook is good,” Cyrus said, with the same tooth-showcasing grin on his face. “And all that has to do is simmer. I can handle it.”

  “And be stirred now and then,” Lil said, her face red from the heat of the stove.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cyrus said. “I don’t remember to thank you often enough for all you do. Please, I want you to track down Ozaire and head out to Pappy’s for dinner. On me. I’ll call up and arrange it.”