by A. C. Mason
I reflected again on making a decision about moving to Cypress Lake. Even though I’d told Jim I’d stop investigating, my will kept vacillating back and forth. It appeared as though I would have to make a choice between my husband and trying to prove my brother’s innocence. Steven’s past actions didn’t get him much sympathy from the cops or anybody else, for that matter.
Right then I made up my mind for the millionth time. I had to give up the quest to clear Steven. Jim was the love of my life, and obviously he intended to accept the job offer no matter what. Steven would just have to prove his own innocence. If he had an alibi for the evening, he’d kept his mouth shut all these years. I hated to see him suffer, but I wanted to keep my marriage from falling apart.
The phone rang and startled me. I glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil. Steven hadn’t been in contact with anyone in the family in quite some time. Was he calling me because he assumed I had an in with NOPD?
“Hello, this is a surprise,” I said.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Can you meet me at The Grill?”
I hesitated, visualizing the hard copy of my mystery on my desk, waiting to be edited and a dozen household chores that needed to be done. And then there was my promise to Jim about staying out of the investigation. Still… “Come over here instead.”
“I figured it would be better if we met on neutral ground. The Grill is semi private as far as public places go. We can talk there without being interrupted by your husband or any of his NOPD buddies.”
“You’re not thinking clearly. We’d have a better chance of privacy over here rather than sitting at a table in the middle of a crowded bar,” I said. “Jim won’t be home for hours.”
“Do you want to meet me or not?” he growled.
“Okay, okay. I’ll be there shortly,” I agreed, glancing at my watch. Great. Four-thirty, right in the middle of rush hour traffic.
As I drove down the street toward our meeting place my stomach twisted with anxiety pains. What in the world did he want to talk to me about?
The Grill was actually Rex Bar and Grill, but no one called it by its correct name. Somewhat of a dive, but frequented by people of many different socio-economic classes, the establishment occupied one of the old buildings formerly housing a Katz and Bestoff Drug Store. K & B, once a long-time New Orleans fixture with stores on numerous street corners, sold out years ago to a national chain, much to the dismay of a lot of New Orleanians, including me.
Mourning the loss of a landmark business didn’t help my state of mind right now. As usual I’d deployed a diversion as a form of escapism. I feared there would be no evading the emotional turmoil to be generated by this meeting with my brother. It couldn’t be anything but heart wrenching.
A few seconds passed before my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness inside the bar. Lit cigarettes blinked through the smoke as their consumers puffed away. Voices buzzed, along with occasional bursts of laughter amid the melancholy strains of New Orleans blues, and the aroma and sizzle of beef on the grill circulated through the room.
I didn’t think it possible. Even in the dim light or maybe because of it, Steven looked worse than the last time I saw him. His clothes were rumpled, his hair disheveled and his face unshaven. I’d seen homeless people who looked better. He clutched a half-empty glass of something on the rocks, most likely Scotch, his usual choice of hard liquor.
When I approached his table he stood and offered me a weak smile. “Thanks for coming, Suzie.”
His childhood name for me and the tone of his voice tugged at my emotions. I hugged him and sat in the chair closest to him. He smelled heavily of stale cigarettes. Of course the smoke in this place hung in the air like fog rising off the Mississippi River.
A dark-haired cocktail waitress wearing a black miniskirt and low cut white blouse sauntered over to the table. “Can I get you something, dawlin?” she asked me.
“A Coke is fine.” Impatient to get down to the nitty-gritty, I resented the interruption. What did my brother want to say to me?
She turned to Steven. “What about you, hon?”
“I’m good.” He motioned toward me. “Put her drink on my tab. I’ll pay up when I leave.”
“Sure thing,” she said with a sensuous smile. Some women must find ‘rumpled’ sexy. She left to get my drink.
“So tell me, what is it you couldn’t talk to me about in the privacy of my home, but you can reveal in the middle of a whole bunch of strangers?” I whispered, discretely glancing around the crowded room.
He fingered the napkin under his drink for a moment before he answered. “Since NOPD has reopened the case, I really didn’t want to take the chance of running into your husband. He firmly believes I killed Anne and he’ll be after me with everything he’s got.”
“Well, Jim won’t, but others will be. The Lieutenant removed him from the case and assigned it to two other detectives.”
Steven looked surprised, like I caught him off guard with the information, but he recovered quickly. “A conflict of interest? Ah, he’s married to a close relative of the main suspect, right?”
I nodded.
His expression revealed a mix of anger and sadness. “What a load of crap,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry my problems are falling on you. This whole business has got to be hard for you to stomach, bringing up all those memories.”
The waitress returned with my Coke and set the drink in front of me. I murmured my thanks as she walked away, with her hips swaying for Steven’s benefit. He didn’t seem to notice her obvious movements.
The pain in his eyes played on my sympathy. Anyone who truly knew Steven should know he could never kill anyone, much less his wife. If only he would say where he spent the evening the night she died. I decided to come right to the point.
“Where were you the night of Anne’s murder?”
He wrinkled his forehead in a frown. “So you’re going to interrogate me, too.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t tell the police your whereabouts,” I said, in my most soothing voice.
“I told them where. You know that.”
“But not who you were with,” I added, and took a sip of my Coke.
“I was alone at the camp,” he insisted. He turned his gaze away from me and stared into his drink. I almost choked on mine.
“Steven, I know you. Someone accompanied you there. If you don’t give up the person’s identity you will be charged and convicted of Anne’s murder. I feel in my heart you didn’t commit this crime.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the only one in town who doesn’t believe I killed her.” Once again Steven avoided looking directly at me.
I waited for him to answer my question about his companion for the evening. He didn’t. “I guess you’re not going to tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said, staring straight ahead. Finally, he turned to face me. “Listen, I asked you to meet me because…” He paused and grimaced as though what he had to say pained him. “I heard through the grapevine you and Lisa Olivier are investigating Anne’s murder on your own.”
Shocked, I stared at him for a moment. “How did you hear about this?”
His hand seemed to tighten around the drink glass. “It doesn’t matter, but I’m asking you to stay out of it.”
“Why don’t you want me to look into the facts?”
“Because you and Lisa could possibly be in danger if you get too close to the truth.”
“Do you know who killed her?”
“Let’s just say, I have my suspicions.”
“Then let me find the proof,” I insisted.
“No, I don’t want you involved. Your husband is a cop and he’s a trained investigator. You aren’t. Now, stay out of it.”
He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and laid it on the table. Before I had time to object further about his demand, he rose from his seat, leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and walked out of the plac
e.
I sat there for a while mulling over our conversation. Who could he have been with the night of the murder? He sure wasn’t keeping quiet to protect a married woman’s identity. According to the rumors, every woman he slept with was married. Only one of those didn’t attend Lisa’s party…Mary Catherine Durand. If he spent the evening with her, she couldn’t have killed Anne. Unless…she and Steven… No, don’t go there.
Irritation to my eyes and throat from the heavy cigarette smoke forced me out of my chair. I picked up my purse and left. The empty feeling in my stomach wasn’t a hunger pang.
Outside, the still air stifled my breath. I fanned my face with my hand hoping to create a little air circulation. My feelings of suffocation really had nothing to do with the humidity. Steven’s terrible appearance and his negative attitude were so out of character. Being the main suspect in a murder case made his life hell for a decade. I didn’t for one minute believe my brother to be guilty of murder, but so far, everyone, including him, had tried to curtail my attempts to find the real killer.
Right outside the building, I heard familiar voices, male and female, coming from the shadows between the next two businesses.
“Please, I need to talk to you,” the female pleaded.
“What do you want?” the male asked.
I instantly recognized the man as my brother. Straining to hear, I figured out the woman’s identity from the sound of her voice. Steven and Mary Catherine didn’t appear to be having a pleasant conversation, obviously not a lovers tryst.
I moved closer to hear better and squeezed in behind a huge concrete urn containing an overgrown evergreen shrub.
“Are you stalking me or something?” Steven asked in a tone heavy with sarcasm.
“You wouldn’t return my calls so I had to find you,” she said.
“What’s so important you had to come after me?”
“I’m sorry about everything,” Mary Catherine said. She mumbled something else I couldn’t make out.
Steven uttered a grunt. “You’re sorry. What a joke. April Fools Day has already passed.” Bitterness replaced the sarcasm in his voice.
“You just had to mention the date, didn’t you?” A brief silence followed. “Don’t be mad. It’s not my fault,” she whined.
“Look, we covered all this territory ten years ago so leave me alone. I have enough trouble without you chasing me around town to tell me you’re sorry. Don’t try to contact me again.”
“Okay, I won’t bother you anymore if that’s what you want.”
She didn’t sound happy at all. My legs were getting cramped squeezed in between the urn and the building wall. Hopefully I’d be able to move after these two completed their mysterious conversation. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of urine close by. One of the drunks from The Grill must’ve used the urn for a urinal.
Mary Catherine stormed past my hiding place and disappeared in the parking area on the side of the bar. Minutes later Steven appeared from the shadows, heading for his car. I slipped out from my hiding place and peered around the corner.
A black Mercedes roared down the driveway straight toward Steven. He stumbled out of the way in time and braced himself on the trunk of his car. Over the sound of the car engine and screeching tires I couldn’t hear his voice, but I saw his mouth moving and imagined what lovely words he must be uttering. The car’s tinted windows obstructed a view of the driver, but I knew the Mercedes belonged to Mary Catherine Durand.
I wanted to rush over to him and console him, but he didn’t appear injured and the less he knew about my eavesdropping the better.
After my brother exited the parking lot, I walked to my car with his clandestine conversation stuck in my head. What wasn’t Mary Catherine’s fault? Steven’s responses didn’t clarify anything for me. He almost sounded betrayed by her actions.
How in the world could I distance myself now from finding out the truth without ending up with a divorce? The dialog between M.C. and Steven made either or both of them sound guilty of something. I started out to prove Steven’s innocence, but now I simply wanted and needed to find out the truth.
“Well, I sure didn’t expect to run into you here,” a male voice came out of nowhere directly behind me.
Startled, I turned and stared right up into the dazzling blue eyes of another person on my suspect list, Trey Williamson. He wore a big arrogant smirk on his face. At the moment I wanted to slap it off.
“I could say the same for you,” I came back, recovering my wits.
He shrugged. “The Grill has a good Happy Hour. No watered-down drinks. Good-looking cocktail waitresses. I come here every evening after work.”
In high school all the girls chased after him, and years later, women pursued him. He was handsome, I must admit, with his dark hair and intense blue eyes. This may be a stereotypical view, but it seems like males with those two physical characteristics were the ultimate bad boys. Trey fit the bill to a tee.
He studied my face with intensity, narrowing his eyes. “You must’ve met someone here. It’s pretty risky fooling around on a husband who is a NOPD cop.”
“You have an over active imagination. I did meet someone here, my brother.” As if you didn’t know.
“Here’s a piece of advice. Meeting Steven may be even more dangerous than having a fling. To get cozy with a murderer puts you in a precarious position. The cops might think you had a hand in Anne’s murder yourself.” He paused a moment, then leaned closer. “I always heard they look closely at the person who discovered the body.”
“Good night, Trey.” I turned and did a power walk to my car, knowing I would be seeing his obnoxious smirk in my dreams tonight. In my mind it wasn’t a coincidence he showed up here. He purposely followed me to find out my movements. But what did he have to gain?
Another thought occurred to me. Maybe I should spend some time investigating Trey’s wife Amanda instead of Mary Catherine.
Six
A ringing phone greeted me as I came through the door. I reached it on the fourth or fifth ring and didn’t bother to check the caller ID.
“Hello.” No one answered. “Hello,” I repeated.
“Leave it alone,” a muffled male voice came over the line.
“Who is this?” I immediately looked at the caller ID. The number had been blocked.
“Leave the investigation to the cops.”
“Prank calls are a bit childish,” I said, trying to keep my temper under control.
The dial tone buzzed in my ear. I slammed the phone down.
At that moment, Jim arrived home from work. He set his keys on the lamp table next to the sofa and his brief case on the floor beside his recliner. I greeted him with a quick kiss on his lips.
He motioned with his head in the direction of the phone. “Okay, who made you so mad ?”
“Someone warning me to stay out of the investigation.” I waited for his reaction.
He grinned. “You’re joking, right?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m quite serious.”
This time he frowned. “Who was it?”
“All I know is he tried to disguise his voice and blocked his number from showing up on the caller ID.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No, he did a good job of changing it. His voice sounded distorted. I told him the call was stupid and childish, so he hung up.”
Jim didn’t appear too concerned. Maybe I shouldn’t be either, but I felt edgy about the call. Someone wanted me to stop searching for the truth. Was he the real killer?
Jim’s voice broke into my pondering. “You’re right about the stupid part, but what exactly did he say?”
“At first, he just said, ‘stay out of it.’ After I demanded to know his identity, he told me to leave the investigation to the cops.”
“Pretty good advice,” Jim stated casually.
His remark only fanned the flame. “You’re not making any points with me right now. Do you know anything about the call?”<
br />
He sent an indignant scowl in my direction. “Me? You know I wouldn’t do anything so idiotic.”
Without saying a word I turned and walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said, following me. “I didn’t mean to make light of the call.”
“It sure sounded like it.” Irritated, I folded my arms. He didn’t take the incident seriously.
“Why would someone advise you to stay out of the investigation?” He raised his voice a notch. “Who knew you were even getting involved?”
I glared at him. “There are people who know and want to keep me from finding out the truth. They know the cops firmly believe Steven’s guilty and if they handle the investigation, he’s going to be convicted and the real murderer will go free.”
“On the surface your explanation sounds logical, but during the original investigation everybody’s alibi checked out; everyone except your brother. He wouldn’t even give us an alibi we could verify.” He paused. “Maybe they’re all afraid you’ll mess up the case and Steven will get off scott free.”
His last statement really stoked the fire. “Just because you believe he’s guilty doesn’t mean he is. Is there any actual physical evidence pointing to Steven?”
“There is strong circumstantial evidence leading right to him, but no forensics. Now if he was to give us a verifiable alibi, he might be out of the picture.”
“Well, as of this afternoon, he’s not divulging the person or persons who could give him an alibi for the night of Anne’s murder.”
His dark eyes widened. “You talked to him today?”
“Steven actually telephoned and asked me to meet him at The Grill.”
“And?”
In cop mode as usual…prompting me for details.
“You’ll be happy to know he told me to stay out of the investigation. Somehow he knew about my meeting with Lisa and what we were up to. I can’t imagine who could have told him.” I eyed him with suspicion.
He avoided my gaze for a split second. “I asked him to convince you to stay out of it,” he admitted.