Thurston stumbled toward him. “Yes, Mr. Jackson Miller. Correct. I’m Canebrake from Demopolis.” His breath smelled of liquor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Thurston tried to push Jackson aside with the cane.
“Who’s in that room? Why is it such a secret?”
Jackson recognized the shiny silver top of the antique cane, the same one he’d seen upon reentering the ballet.
Thurston rested his head against the wall. The soft light from the sconce reflected from his smooth scalp. “The usual crowd. They don’t attend the ballet to be seen. They come to see.” He scratched his leg with the end of the cane.
“Is this yours?” Jackson grabbed the cane and held it underneath the sconce in the hallway.
Thurston shifted his meager weight to lean against the wall. The dim light cast shadows on his face. “Look, I don’t want to get entangled in this predicament.” He wiped his bald head with a handkerchief.
“It’s too late, Thurston. You’ve been tangled up in this mess for too long now. And I suspect you know more about the death of my friend Glenway than you’ve been telling. ” Jackson moved closer to the old man, catching a whiff of expensive cologne mingled with smoke and bourbon.
Thurston staggered to the other side of the hall and headed toward the staircase, but Jackson took a few quick steps to block him. “Wait a minute.”
From inside the room, someone scraped a chair against the floor, and then the door to the private balcony swung open, and the hulking shadow of Rogers filled the entrance. The lieutenant slammed the door and said, “What do you have here, ‘Detective Miller’?”
“Hello Lieutenant. I believe you and Thurston are well acquainted.”
Rogers didn’t respond, so Jackson asked, “What were you doing in that private room, and why’d you shut me out?” Jackson squinted at Rogers, hoping to see the lieutenant’s reaction.
Rogers stormed toward Thurston, completely ignoring the questions. “You need to come with me, fellow. We’re going to the station.” He seized Thurston by the arm.
Thurston didn’t argue or resist, but he did stumble as the lieutenant tried to hurry him along. Rogers snatched the cane from Jackson and stuffed it in Thurston’s hand, then guided him to the bottom of the steps.
Jackson shook his head. He whispered, “They aren’t fooling me. If Rogers wanted to arrest Thurston, he could have done it inside that locked room.” He decided to go tell Neil and Allen what he’d seen. As he passed the door to the private balcony, someone cracked it open and Jackson slid along the wall to peek inside. He saw the waiter lean over and light someone’s cigarette. As Jackson inched closer to the door, the lighter went out. Then the waiter started to leave. Before he took more than two steps, someone wearing a shirt with fluffy sleeves smacked the young man on the butt, making him nearly skip out of the room. The door closed and Jackson watched the server bustle toward the stairs with a drink tray and two twenty-dollar bills in his hand.
Jackson joined his friends, and in less than an hour, they watched Rogers arrest six more men at the bar. Jackson was quiet, thinking about Blue Moon, Buddy, Catfish, Lena’s Cadillac, Thurston, Rogers, and the cane incident.
Billy said he was tired and ready to leave. Rogers had not returned. Neil agreed, and he easily convinced Allen to go, too. Allen had run out of singles. On the way to Neil’s car, Billy whispered, “I hope it was worth it, leaving Mother alone while we watched Rogers pretend to do something about Glenway’s death.”
Jackson didn’t dare mention he’d seen Lena’s Cadillac in the alley with Leonard. He didn’t know what Lena was doing at such an hour in the Quarter. “I did learn who Blue Moon is.”
“Jackson, Blue Moon doesn’t matter.” Billy made Jackson slow down to give some distance between them and Neil and Allen. He nodded to the other men and whispered, “I watched them all night. I’m still suspicious, even if they are our friends. When you went to chase Catfish, they didn’t go. They were having some kind of intense conversation that they stopped abruptly when I approached. Something isn’t right about all that. But for now, I’m just ready to get Mother and go to the hotel.”
Safely in the car, Jackson leaned back in his seat and watched the French Quarter rooftops pass by as they headed uptown to Neil’s. Neil cruised, apparently in no hurry to get home. Billy didn’t complain either. There was a warm breeze blowing in the car as they passed the mansions in the Garden District and they could smell the sweet aroma of the night-blooming jasmine. Soft light fell on the neutral ground along the streetcar tracks.
Jackson thought about his escape from the lieutenant. Billy had fallen asleep checking his vital signs. When they arrived at the house, Neil and Allen got out of the car first, and Neil hurried inside.
Jackson tried to wake Billy, who rubbed his eyes and told Jackson to go get Imogene, so they could leave. Jackson noticed that the patrol car was no longer there. He stretched and walked around to open the door for Billy.
Neil ran back to the porch, waving his arms in the air and calling out in a fevered, frantic voice “Oh my God. Imogene and Lena are gone.”
“What?” Jackson said.
“Goose isn’t here either.” Neil smacked the nearest house column and then slammed the door.
Twenty-Nine
They searched the neighborhood for hours. Lena’s Seville wasn’t at the praline shop. Jackson put his ear to the door, listening for movement inside, but heard none. Billy dialed Imogene’s phone a hundred times, eventually finding it in the couch where she’d been sitting during dinner. After this discovery, he collapsed on the couch and checked his vital signs.
Periodically, Jackson tried to comfort his partner, but Billy was clearly beyond comfort. He compulsively monitored his blood pressure until he became unresponsive.
Neil paced from the front door to the back. When he passed Billy in the den, he’d pause a moment and wring his hands together and then keep marching. At one point, he burst out on the front porch, where Jackson and Allen sat. He declared, “She’s kidnapped. Yes, kidnapped.”
Jackson watched Neil hurry along the side of the house, past the jasmine and under the plantains. “What makes you say that?”
Neil stopped and appeared to attempt an answer. He matted down his mustache and said, “She’s gone. They’re gone. She’s kidnapped.” He followed the property line between his house and Lena’s shop. Jackson and Allen watched him. Neil snapped a branch off a blue hydrangea and marched toward the front porch. “My fault. All my fault. If not for me, she wouldn’t be kidnapped.”
“Neil, stop it,” Jackson said. “If Billy hears that nonsense, he’ll have another panic attack.” Jackson patted the chair beside him. “Come sit.”
Allen stroked his beard in rapid movements, watching Neil’s frenzied behavior. “I’ve never seen him like this, Jackson.”
Neil completed two circles around the herb garden with the mint glowing in the moonlight, and then he strode down the property line again. “Gone. Kidnapped.” On his next pass beside the front porch, he threw his hands in the air and looked at the top of the porch columns. “I think Rogers instigated this whole charade, so he could use a kidnapping as leverage…”
“Neil, look at me.” He wouldn’t do it. Instead, he stared at the windows behind Allen like they held answers. “Why would he do that, Neil? Why?”
Neil bent over the gardenias near the street and said, “In order to get the figurines and pay us back for our blackmail. Why wasn’t I thinking? Poor Imogene and Lena. Kidnapped.” Then he walked into the foyer and called Rogers, relaying his theory in three consecutive attempts, all of which ended with Rogers hanging up on him.
Neil was ready to call his friend on the city council when Jackson stopped him. “Wait. Don’t do it. They’re not kidnapped. They’ll show up.”
Neil glared at him. “What? Out of thin air, like magic?”
“I just have a feeling they will, that’s all.” Jackson avoided Neil’s stare, knowing he had seen Lena’s car and hea
rd her voice earlier. He stood up. “I’ll just have another look around.”
Jackson crossed the street and walked through the basketball courts, where he had run from Rogers. He turned around and saw Neil and Allen huddled up together. He doubled back, walking down the sidewalk past Lena’s Place. He crossed the next intersection and then heard a low rumbling sound, almost like the sound of a boat trolling the bayou.
He recognized Lena’s Cadillac, and as soon as he stepped forward, the car stopped in the road. He saw arms flailing in the backseat and hurried closer. Out of the car jumped Catfish, clutching his mesh hat and fleeing into the darkness. Jackson didn’t budge. He couldn’t do any more chasing.
He turned back toward the house, and just as he reached the wall, he heard Allen say, “Look, there, behind you, Jackson.” Allen pointed at the street. Lena cruised onto the property, laughing out the window like she was catching beads on Canal Street.
Imogene sat in the passenger seat, and Goose perched in between the old ladies with his tongue out, licking his lips. His face was covered in white powder. It looked like someone had dipped him face-first in a bag of flour. Lena and Imogene cackled as he moved from one of the women to the other, trying to see who would offer the next delicacy. Imogene dropped something in his mouth while Lena parked the car. She smacked the steering wheel in amusement and then opened the door. “Dat dog, he’ll eat any thang.” Goose could not contain himself. He huffed and snorted and sneezed.
Imogene hugged the happy bulldog. “That’s Maw-Maw’s sweet boy, yes, him is.” Before Imogene could get out, Jackson and Neil stepped up to her open window.
Jackson screamed first. “Imogene, where have you been?”
“Honey, Lena took us to the Quarter for some of them Franch doughnuts!” She was covered in powdered sugar. He helped her out of the car. She didn’t look like a woman who’d done anything wrong. She had glazed, satisfied eyes. “Son, these thangs is even better at night. I’ll lay a dollar on it. They was good during the day when we had ’em but even better now. Where’s ol’ Billy?”
“Imogene, you weren’t supposed to leave.” Jackson helped her up the first step.
“Aww, bull. Y’all ain’t told us to stay here. ’Sides, we got hungry. And I got a hankerin’ for a treat.” She wiped her face with a napkin and clutched her bag of beignets as if it held a million dollars.
“Baby, we didn’t think y’all was comin’ home,” Lena said, holding on to a portable file folder, wrapped in a piece of twine.
“Billy’s had a conniption fit over you being gone.” Jackson studied the women. Imogene’s hands were full. As she leaned over to give Goose a sugary morsel, he saw a piece of paper sticking halfway out of her pocket. He couldn’t see all that was on the paper, but he thought he saw one familiar name.
“Where’s he at, then? He knows Mama’s gotta live her own life.” Imogene shook her head. She saw Jackson looking at the paper. She stuffed it down her pocket and winked at him.
“We was aight, baby,” Lena said, holding on to Jackson’s arm as they walked up the stairs. “I know this city. Plus, we had this dog here.” Goose followed on her heels lest she drop some of the doughy deliciousness. Jackson petted him. He decided to wait until the right time to ask about their other “business” in the French Quarter and their other passenger—Catfish—and the file Lena clutched to her abdomen.
Imogene peeked in on Billy, who was snoring on the couch. Her shoulders slumped when she saw her son with a white washcloth covering his face and the blood pressure cuff strapped to his arm. She looked like a sad, older Marie Antoinette, with the white beignet powder rubbed into her cheeks. “That boy worries hisself too much about his mama. There ain’t another son would do that, though, so I kinda feel bad for troublin’ him.”
Lena nodded. “Yeah, baby. He one of them boys a woman lucky to have for a son.” She turned around and her gray eyes became serious. She grabbed Jackson and pushed him into Allen’s workshop with the enormous table for his frames. “Listen. I know you seen my boy Leonard—Glenway called him Catfish. He don’t deserve to be jumped on by the law or by Neil and ’em. That’s how come I let him go. I’m gonna ask you not to say nothing to ’em, if you will. Can you do that, baby?”
“I won’t say anything, Lena, but you should know that the law is looking for your son right now. They think he killed Glenway.” Jackson stared at the file folder in her hands.
“Yeah, and they crazy too. They’ll chase they own tail, won’t they? ’Specially that big ugly one, Rogers. Shoot. That’s how come Imogene and me, we got some information tonight and we gonna go in the back room and sort it out. We’ll let you know soon’s we know something. I took the notion to help y’all just as soon’s they got after my Leonard.”
Jackson glanced at Lena’s New Orleans Saints cap, which wrapped loosely around her head. He felt his heart sink into his gut as a few pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He snapped his fingers. “Miss Lena, you’re a genius.”
“Whatchya mean? You ain’t gonna tell the boys about Leonard, is you?” Lena swatted at him just as he started for the front door.
He shook the umbrella bin in the corner of the foyer and said, “It was this. And that hat of yours. That’s what did it for me.”
“Baby, you ain’t talkin’ plain. Slow down and tell Lena Ward what you sayin’.”
“It’s been in front of me the whole time. The symbol of the city.” He ran out to the porch and asked Allen to come inside. “Allen, I know it’s two a.m., but I’ve figured out what was used to kill Glenway. I know what made that indentation on his skull. It hit me just now as Lena was talking. And since I know what killed Glenway, I now know who killed him.”
Thirty
Jackson rolled over and glanced at his watch. It was 10:45 a.m. “No!” He jumped out of bed and accidentally kicked Goose, who immediately started barking.
Billy tore off the covers. “What is it, Jackson? Why’s Goose going crazy?”
“We have fifteen minutes to check out of Chez Hill. We’re not staying one more night there.” Jackson hurried into his shorts.
“Why?” Billy stared up at the ceiling in Neil’s guest room.
“It’s not safe. We’re better off here.” Jackson threw Billy a shirt, and in just a moment, they were running for the door. They passed the den where Lena was on one small sofa covered in a blanket and Imogene on another, snoring like she’d never slept a night in her life.
The boys hurried to the car and drove quickly to Chez Hill, stopping at the valet parking area. Jackson tossed his keys to the closest young man in a hotel shirt and ran upstairs.
He stopped in front of the room and unlocked the door, but couldn’t push it open. Something was blocking the door from inside. He could open the lock, but he felt an obstacle leaning against the other side. He shook it.
“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, still wiping sleep out of his eyes.
“I can’t get it loose. It’s blocked.” He stuck his shoulder into it and pushed, but the door only moved an inch.
“Okay. On the count of three, we’re going to force it open. Use everything you’ve got.” Jackson and Billy put their leaned into the door. “All right, one, two, three.”
As they shoved, they heard the sound of wood cracking against the door, which opened about a foot. It was enough room for Jackson to reach around and knock a chair out of the way.
Forcing the door all the way open, they stepped inside to see a horrible mess. The mattresses were lying in between the beds. Drawers from dresser had been pulled out and thrown carelessly around, and the TV cabinet leaned at an angle beside two broken lamps. The decorative knobs on the French doors were bent, and the hot air of August poured into the room from the open doors. The AC unit groaned.
“Again? Someone ransacked our room again?” Jackson said. “I couldn’t be happier to be leaving this place.”
Clothes, shoes, Billy’s backup cuff and blood-sugar monitor, all were tossed to the floor. The secu
rity safe’s door had been pried open and left completely empty. Billy swiped his hand through his hair as if straightening it would make him feel better about the disaster. “At least we didn’t leave anything important to the case here.”
Jackson called Neil and told him what had happened. Neil said, “I’m on my way and I’ll bring the women.”
Billy called the front desk to report the break-in. While they waited for Neil and the hotel staff to arrive, Jackson put one of the mattresses on the bed and had Billy sit down. Billy teetered on the edge with his mouth open. He checked his pressure a dozen times.
Jackson eventually sat beside him. “Since we have a minute alone, I need to tell you about Thurston and the mysterious cane from last night. Thurston’s the one who killed Glenway.”
In a few minutes there was a knock at the door and then the hotel attendants walked in holding their clipboards.
Neil burst in and smacked his hand against the wall. He scowled at the employees. “My friends deserve a complete refund for their stay. This is the second burglary in a week. You need to take care of their bill immediately”—the attendants turned around to go—“because they’re not staying one more moment in this crime-infested hotel.”
Billy stood and said, “I’m feeling sick to my stomach.” Jackson led him out to the balcony for some fresh air. Neil hopped over a mattress and asked, “Are you missing anything?”
Billy gazed toward the river. Even the European rooftops and lush courtyards surrounding the place looked menacing. “No, not that I know of.”
Jackson stepped back into the room toward Neil. “Were those figurines stolen last night from your office, while we attended the ballet? The last time our room was ransacked, someone stole the figurines I was keeping, which is why I’m asking about the ones you were keeping. Because of Imogene’s disappearance last night, they slipped my mind.”
Imogene in New Orleans Page 25