by Sala, Sharon
When the door suddenly opened and a detective walked into the room, Grayson stood up.
“Mr. March, I’m Detective Carson. I’ll be handling your daughter’s case.”
“Is there news?” Grayson asked.
“Nothing new. I just need to clarify some statements you made to the officers who were first on the scene.”
“Ask away.”
The detective opened his notebook. “I’ve seen the security footage, so we know Anson Poe did not physically kidnap your daughter, but am I to understand you are accusing him of orchestrating it?”
Grayson lifted his chin. “What I said was, that it’s possible he was behind it because of a recent altercation we had.”
Carson nodded. “And what about your accusation regarding Brendan Poe, Anson Poe’s youngest son? Are you stating that he could have had knowledge of this beforehand?”
Jack stood up, unable to listen to this any longer. “Hell no, he’s not behind this, and if Grayson wasn’t so emotionally wrought, he would not insinuate such crap.”
Carson frowned at the interruption. “And you are?”
“Jack Michaels, manager at The Black Garter. Brendan Poe has worked for me for the past five years and is a fine, upstanding young man. He is not responsible for his father’s sins, and is in love with Juliette. He would do nothing to harm her.”
“Does she return the feelings?”
Jack frowned. “Answer him, Grayson. You’re the one who pointed an angry finger at an innocent man. Now it’s time to do the right thing and acknowledge it was your prejudice talking and not the facts.”
When Grayson and Jack did nothing but glare at each other, the detective spoke up. “Somebody start talking,” Carson said.
Grayson was mad at Jack, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Yes, Brendan and Juliette have a romantic relationship. It’s true I’m not happy about it, but I have no reason to assume he has anything to do with my daughter’s abduction.”
“Where is Brendan Poe?” Carson asked. “Did he come down with the rest of you?”
Grayson’s voice rose in anger all over again. “No, and that’s why I was suspicious when—”
At that point, Marco and Deuce began interrupting, and then Marco spoke up.
“We know where Brendan is. He was running down a lead at the riverfront when I called him. He said someone told him that Count LeGrande was in the vicinity when the kidnapping took place, and he might have seen something. He was afraid the fire would scatter all the locals and if they became displaced, he might lose the chance to talk to him.”
Jack glared at Grayson. “I told you he wouldn’t run away.”
Grayson glared back.
Marco kept talking. “I drove his truck down here for safe keeping. He said to tell Jack he’d meet you all here after he found LeGrande.”
“Does anyone know the whereabouts of Anson Poe? Would he be with his son?” Carson asked.
“Brendan hates his father,” Deuce said.
“They have no relationship,” Jack added.
“I know where Anson Poe is,” Grayson muttered. “I’ve had my men on him ever since he threatened my family. He’s at Adelaine’s eating dinner. They’ve been on him all night.”
“So your own men have just given the man you accused an air-tight alibi,” Carson said.
Grayson frowned. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t hire it out.”
“Do you have any information that would substantiate this accusation?”
“No, but—”
Carson held up his hand. “I understand your feelings, but we operate on facts, and right now we have nothing to implicate Poe. With your business holdings, you must have other enemies. Is there anyone you can think of? Someone you have recently fired or anything like that?”
“No!” Grayson snapped. “I don’t personally run my business interests. I have managers for that. I’m sure dozens of people are hired and fired every day somewhere.”
“Then I suggest you start checking with your managers and see if anyone has recently uttered any threats against you or your company.”
“Hells bells,” he mumbled, pulled out his phone, and moved to the far end of the room to make the calls.
Chapter Seven
The fire sweeping through the French Quarter was a nightmare to those who lived on the streets. They were spilling out of alleys and hidey-holes, running down to the riverfront like rats from a burning ship. It made movement even more difficult for Brendan as he pushed through them, desperate to find the location Claudette had given him.
When he finally located the antique shop and saw an apartment above it, he began looking for an alley to get to the stairs, and was once again deterred. The buildings were connected, one to the other, like little shops in an open-air mall. He was still moving when someone in the crowd cried out, “The Black Garter is on fire.”
The fire was getting closer and he was running out of time.
He began to run, dodging and pushing through the crowd until he finally found an open alley and ducked through it. He came out on the backside of the buildings and then began running back the way he’d come, looking for the stairs. When he finally saw them, the gathering smoke shrouded them. He was halfway up them when he heard a door open above him, and then the sound of someone coughing.
He looked up just as LeGrande was coming down. Brendan caught a look of surprise, then fear on the old man’s face and quickly called out.
“Count LeGrande! It’s me, Brendan Poe!”
LeGrande came down, coughing and choking as they quickly descended. “What do you want, boy?”
“I need to speak with you, but we need to get out of this smoke first.”
The old man was staggering. “My home is going to burn. I’m not ready to die.”
A loud rumble of thunder rolled above the rooftops. From the sound, it appeared that the predicted storm front had finally arrived.
“Praise the Lord,” the Count said, then let himself be led back out of the alley and closer to the river.
As soon as they reached an area where it was easier to breathe, Brendan found a place for the old man to sit, then waited for him to catch his breath.
The Count’s chest was heaving, which only added to the stoop of his bony shoulders. He’d never noticed how white LeGrande’s hair and beard were up close, almost as white as his paper-thin skin. He looked much smaller without the frock coat and top hat.
As they sat, a wind began to rise, an ill wind for the firemen trying to put out the fires.
“Are you okay, sir?” Brendan asked.
He nodded. “Now what is it you wanted to ask?”
“Juliette March was kidnapped tonight.”
The expression of horror on LeGrande’s face was real. “Oh no! I hadn’t heard. I’m shocked, but how does that pertain to me?”
“Michelle at The Candy Basket said you were still on the streets when it happened. I was hoping you might’ve seen something. We know the abductor took her out of the back of the bar and up the alley toward the main drag.”
“I don’t think I saw anything like that, but then the crowd was in constant motion at that time. Everyone was already concerned about trying to get away from the smoke and fire.”
Brendan’s heart sank, but he kept on talking, hoping something would ring a bell.
“The abductor is bald, heavy-set, and middle-aged with long arms and short legs. He was wearing jeans and a navy blue knit shirt. Julie was wearing black slacks and a white shirt like all the bartenders. He would have been carrying her either over his shoulder or in his arms, because he’d knocked her out.”
LeGrande gasped, and then suddenly leaned forward. “Is he a regular customer at the bar?”
Brendan’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, every night for the past month or so. Why?”
“I didn’t see him tonight, but I think I know the man you mean. He leaves just before closing every night and then stands in the shadows of
a nearby alley, watching as employees leave the bar. I always thought that was strange.”
Brendan grabbed Count’s arm. “Yes, yes! That’s the man. Do you know his name?”
“No, but I know something about him.”
“What? Tell me, quick! Her life depends on it.”
“I know that he drives a late-model Chevrolet Tahoe, either black or dark blue.”
“That’s great, but are you sure you’ve never heard anyone call him by name?”
“I’m sure, but I can help you find him just the same. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”
“Why?” Brendan asked.
“Because I know the number of his car tag.” Then LeGrande shrugged. “It is a thing I do... memorizing numbers.”
Brendan’s hands began to tremble as he reached for his phone. “Give me a second,” he said, and pulled up the Notes section.
LeGrande watched. “Amazing things, the phones they have these days.”
“Yes, sir, yes they are,” Brendan said. “Okay, I’m ready.”
The Count rattled off the numbers. “Oh. One other thing about the SUV.”
“What’s that?” Brendan asked.
“The vehicle is always quite dusty, or when it rains, it’s always muddy.”
“Meaning he most likely lives somewhere outside of the city,” Brendan said.
The Count nodded.
Brendan jumped up and then shook LeGrande’s hand. “I’ve got to call the police with this information. You may have just saved Juliette March’s life.”
“I’m happy to have been of service,” he said.
Another clap of thunder rattled the windows in the nearby buildings, and then it was as if the sound tore a hole in heaven. Rain came down in a sudden sheet, flattening the Count’s beard to his neck and their clothes to their bodies.
“Come with me,” Brendan said. “You need to get out of the rain.”
“No. There’s no need to seek other shelter now. Now that it appears my home won’t burn, I’ll go back. Go rescue your lady love and give her my regards.”
Brendan threw his arms around the old man’s shoulders, thumping him soundly on the back.
“Thank you, sir! Thank you! I’ll be in touch.”
He took off running, anxious to get out of the rain to make the call, leaving the old man on his own. LeGrande made no attempt to run as he started back to his apartment. He was already as wet as he could possibly be.
****
Toni and Wynn were still looking at mug shots in another area of the P.D. when the thunderstorm hit.
Grayson March’s wife, Lana, had arrived only a few minutes earlier. As soon as he ran to comfort her, she quickly rebuffed him. It was obvious from the expression on her face and the sharp words they were trading, she was not only distraught about her daughter’s disappearance, but blaming her husband because he’d let Juliette work in such an unseemly place.
When Jack’s phone began to ring and he saw caller ID, his gut knotted.
“Brendan! Are you all right?”
“Yes. I have a lead. I need to talk to someone in charge.”
“Just a moment,” Jack said, then yelled out at the detective who was out in the hall talking to an officer.
“Detective Carson! Brendan Poe is on the phone. He needs to talk to you!”
Grayson was already on his feet when Carson entered the room and took the phone out of Jack’s hand.
“This is Detective Carson.”
“Detective, this is Brendan Poe. I have a tag number. It belongs to the car the kidnapper drives. If you run the tag, you should have a name and address, and if God is good, the bastard will have taken Julie to his home instead of somewhere else, and this nightmare might soon be over.”
Carson grabbed the notebook out of his pocket.“Go ahead and give it to me,” he said.
Brendan repeated the number, and then added, “The witness said the car was a late-model Chevy Tahoe, black or dark blue, and that it was nearly always dusty or muddy, which means he probably has a place outside of the city.”
“Good job, Poe. If this pans out, I know some people who are going to be very grateful to you.”
He handed the phone back to Jack and left the room running.
“What is it? What’s happening?” Grayson shouted, and tried to grab the phone, but Jack pushed his hand away.
“Brendan? You still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m coming to the police station as soon as I can catch a ride, but between the fire and the thunderstorm, it will take a while. Cabs are few and far between.”
“Where are you, son? We’ll come get you.”
Marco spoke up. “Tell him I’ll come get him in his SUV.”
Jack gave Marco a thumbs-up to indicate he’d heard.
“Marco said he’ll come get you in your SUV. Where are you?”
Brendan was beginning to shiver.
“I’m still down on the riverfront. I think the police and fire department have everything blocked off for at least a dozen blocks in every direction. Tell him I’ll be walking North on Canal Street toward Royal, and to watch for me.”
“Will do, Bren.”
“Hey, Jack. I need to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“The bar is gone. If it hadn’t been for the storm moving in and this blessed downpour, it would’ve burned all the way to the river.”
Jack’s shoulders slumped.
“Well hell. I was afraid of that.”
“Yeah. If March is there, I figured he’d want to know.”
“Yes, he’s here. Do you want to talk to him about—?”
“I don’t have anything to say to him. I’ll see you in a few.”
The line went dead in Jack’s ear. He gave Brendan’s directions to Marco, and he and Deuce both left.
Grayson was still standing, impatiently waiting for answers.
“Well! What did he say? Does he know anything?”
“I didn’t ask, but I’m gathering from the way Carson ran out of here he had some kind of information to pass on. What he did say, was that the bar was gone.”
Lana March had walked up beside her husband while the conversation was in progress, and when she heard the news, her features contorted into a mixture of rage and glee.
“Good! I’m glad it’s gone! It was a disgrace that our family was even involved in something so unsavory. God only knows what went on in there.”
The moment she said it, she realized she’d just insulted the manager standing five feet away.
Jack dropped his phone in his pocket and walked out of the room.
Grayson gritted his teeth. It was one of those rare times he understood Juliette’s resentment toward her mother. There was a muscle jerking at the corner of his eye as he turned on her, his voice low and obviously angry.
“My dear Lana, my great-great-granddaddy made his fortune as a rum-runner. Great-granddaddy March added to the fortune by being one of the biggest bookies and gamblers in the state. Granddaddy had his day making and selling bootleg liquor. When my daddy took over the operations, he opened The Black Garter. It was the first honest business in the family in three generations, and during the extent of our marriage, you have been living high on the hog from the largess of three generations of unsavory profits. It would behoove you to remember that the next time you feel the need to parade your proper, high-stepping self about in front of those you refer to as ‘the hired help.’”
He watched the color come and go from his wife’s face and knew he’d pay for it later, but right now, he didn’t give a good damn. He walked out of the room without looking back. He needed to find Jack and apologize.
****
LaDelle woke abruptly when the first clap of thunder rattled the windows in her bedroom. Linny was asleep on a pallet in the floor by her mother’s bed, but woke up as well.
“Mama?”
Delle pushed herself into a sitting position and then patted the bed beside her.
“It’s just a thunderstorm, sugar. Come lie in bed with me. It’ll be all right.”
Linny stood up clutching Rabbit, but hesitated. “What if I hurt your feet?”
“You can be on top of the covers, and I’ll be under. It’ll be okay. Come here. I have need of a hug.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. Linny crawled up onto the bed beside her mother and snuggled under her arm.
For a few moments, they were silent. Just when Delle thought Linny was falling back asleep, lulled by the sound of rain against the windows, her daughter’s small voice broke the silence.
“What’s gonna happen to us, Mama?”
Delle’s heart hurt for the anxiety she heard in her baby’s voice. “What do you mean, honey?”
“Are we going back home to Wisteria Hill?”
Delle sighed. “I think we have to, don’t you?”
Linny nodded.
“Will you be sad to leave Brendan?”
“Yes, but I miss the bayou. Sir Snapper and all my royal subjects must be wondering where I’ve gone.”
LaDelle pulled her closer. “I never knew when I gave birth to you that I was birthing a queen.”
“I guess life is like that sometimes, right, Mama?”
Delle chuckled at the innocence of the remark. Right now, her daughter firmly believed she could become a queen just by naming herself as one.
“Yes, My Queen, life can be a constant surprise.”
Linny snuggled closer against her mother and pulled Rabbit beneath her chin.
Within a few minutes, Delle heard the steady sound of her daughter’s breathing and knew she’d fallen asleep.
In the other room, a phone began to ring. That meant Brendan was calling. She looked anxiously toward the door, knowing if it were an emergency, Claudette would tell her. When she heard Claudette coming down the hall moments later, her heart sank. She was facing the door when it opened.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Claudette came to the other side of the bed and eased down so that she was close to her sister’s ear.
“The Quarter is on fire and Juliette has been kidnapped. They are all out looking for her, and Brendan said he will not be coming home just yet. He is running down a lead someone gave him.”