Murder in the Rue Ursulines (15 page)

I couldn’t help it, I grinned. I hit the call back button, and she answered on the first ring. “Where the
hell
have you been?”

“You free for lunch?”  I asked, keeping my voice as calm as I could. “I
might
be persuaded to give my oldest friend in the world an exclusive interview.”

There was a pause. “Chanse,” she said, her voice low, “you are a
witness?”

“How did you—“

“They have the television on here in the office. It just went out over CNN. You saw the murderer leaving Glynis’s house?”

Someone in the police department had already called the press. My God, I just told Venus, and already it’s on the news.

“Meet me at El Gato Negro, and I’ll tell you everything.” I replied, closing the phone.

I took some deep, therapeutic breaths, and started walking through the Quarter.

“Wow. That really sucks.” Paige said when I’d finished my tale. She shook her head and took a sip of her iced tea. “
Do
you think Freddy killed her?”

I glanced around. We were the only people in El Gato Negro other than the staff. Our waiter was wiping down a table on the far side of the room. We were seated in the corner furthest from the front door. I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, to tell you the truth. I’m pretty sure it was him I saw coming out of the house. And obviously he’s never going to admit being there. So it’s my word against his.”

“I guess I can kiss any access to Frillian goodbye then.” She rapped me lightly on the knuckles. “You couldn’t have gotten me in to see them before you accused him of being at a crime scene?” She sighed. “They’re not going to be talking to any reporters any time soon—and when they do, it’s going to be Larry King or someone like that.” She gave me a dirty look. “The good news, though, is Coralie has assigned the murder to me.”

“Well, you’re the paper’s top reporter, so of course.”

“Don’t flatter me, you’re not good at it.” She gave me a smile anyway. “But that should keep me out of the office—and away from her— for a few days at least. Huzzah!” She tapped her pen on her notebook. She’d taken plenty of notes while I was talking. “But at least I have an exclusive with the one witness who can place Freddy at the murder scene.” When I started to talk, she held up her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say you saw Freddy—since you’re not sure anymore.” She consulted her notes. “I’ll just print the description you gave me and let the readers draw their own conclusions. Although—“

“What?”

“You know, it’s entirely possible Freddy was there, but didn’t kill her.” Paige shrugged. “Try this on. Suppose, after Loren told them that Glynis sent the e-mails, he went over there to confront her, and found the body. Knowing how bad that would look, he got out of there and is denying ever being there.” Her eyebrows came together in a frown. “He went back home, told Jillian, and they decided to alibi each other because they didn’t know he’d been seen--and now they’re stuck with the lie.”

“How did he get into her house without being let in?”

“The killer maybe left the door open?” she suggested. “Freddy got there, found the door open, got concerned and went inside?”

“I suppose it could have happened that way.” I thought for a moment. “And of course, now he can’t change his story without making himself look guilty as hell.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “I guess it depends on whether his fingerprints are on the Emmy. In addition to yours, of course.” She shook her head. “How did Venus react when you told her about handling the Emmy?”

“Not well, and thanks for reminding me.” I pushed my plate away. I had about half of my burrito left, but I’d lost my appetite. “Did you interview Jillian’s mother yet?”

“I’m heading over there when I leave here.” Paige glanced at her cell phone. “Do you think she might know something?”

“I don’t know.” It was frustrating. “She and Jillian have been estranged for years—since before Jillian hooked up with Freddy. It stands to reason that whatever those e-mails were alluding to, she wouldn’t know. How would she?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Paige flipped back a few pages in her notebook. “That makes sense. I kind of got the impression when I talked to her on the phone that she really doesn’t know much about them—she’s just looking to get some attention from the media. And you know me, always happy to oblige a has-been.” She made a sour face. “But you never know—she might know something pertinent. No stone left unturned, that’s my motto—and when I’m done with her I’m meeting with Sandy Carter, see how this might affect Project Rebuild, if at all. And she might know something, you never know. She probably knows Frillian better than anyone else in town, and maybe, just maybe, she can get me in to see them—now that you’ve blown it. And I have a breakfast meeting with Jim Corliss in the morning. He’s the director of Glynis’s movie.” She raised an eyebrow. “He might know who Glynis was seeing. I hear that movie sets are hotbeds of gossip. I’ll talk to some of the crew while I’m there.”

“What’s the deal with the movie anyway? I mean, now that the star’s dead...”

“When I talked with Jim he told me they were going to recast. They’d only shot a few scenes, and if they can get someone to take the part over quickly, there won’t even be much of a delay—although he seemed to think it might not be easy getting someone to replace Glynis, given the circumstances.” She sighed.

I played with the straw in my drink. My head was starting to ache. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. ROSEMARY SHANNON. I held up a finger to shush Paige, and answered it. “MacLeod.”

“Chanse?” the girlish voice sounded slightly out of breath. “This is Rosemary Shannon, Glynis’s assistant? We met yesterday?”

“Yes, Rosemary, I remember you.” Paige started to say something but I waved my hand and shook my head. She nodded and winked back at me.

“I was wondering if you could meet with me?” She let out a half-sob. “I just don’t know what to do. I spent most of the night being treated like a criminal by the police and I just thought maybe you could, I don’t know, maybe give me some advice?” She started breathing harder. “I don’t really have any friends here in New Orleans, and you were so nice to me yesterday, would you mind? I don’t want to impose…if you’re busy I can understand. I just need someone to talk to.”

Interesting, I thought. I didn’t recall being anything more than polite to her. “I’m finishing a meeting right now, but I’m in the Quarter. I could meet you in, say, about half an hour?”

She let out her breath in a rush. “Oh, thank you, that would be wonderful! How about Café Envie? Do you know where that is?”

“Yes. I’ll see you there in half an hour.” I clicked my phone shut. “Apparently, I’ve made a friend.”

“Was that the assistant?”

“Uh huh.” I scratched my head. “She wants me to meet her. She doesn’t have any friends in town and needs someone to talk to.”

“See? I told you it always pays to be nice to people. Maybe now you’ll listen to me.” Paige signaled our waiter for the check. “You get what you can out of her—and see if you can track down the other people on Glynis’s staff. I’ll handle the stuff I’ve already arranged. I should be back at my place around six. You want to meet up and compare notes?” She handed the waiter her credit card. She smiled at me. “This is my treat. Well, actually the paper’s.” She shoved her notebook back into her bag. “I’ll type up your interview before then—I’ll let you read it before I turn it in, make sure I’ve got it right.” She took the slip from the waiter and signed it. “You’re lucky you’re my friend, you know? No other reporter is going to be so accommodating.”

“Thanks.” She was right. Now that my name was out there, the thought of what was being said about me on the news and on-line was a bit unnerving. “I do appreciate it.”

“Well, I have my own selfish reasons. You’re going to be a great source, and I’m the only one with access—so make sure it stays that way. Any other reporter asks you anything, you’d better say ‘no comment’ or I’ll make you sorry you were born.” She stood up. “And no need for that bitch Coralie to know who my source is. Everyone else covering this story is just going to be recording gossip and trying to get leaks from the police department—which is already happening. I still can’t believe your name was leaked before you even left the building. Venus must be ready to kill someone.” She ran a hand through her already messy hair. “But unlike those other incompetent boobs, I still know how to be an investigative journalist.” She picked up her bag, and gave me a grin. “Talk to you later, okay? And remember—NO COMMENT.”

I walked out with her and gave her a hug before she headed for her car. I took a deep breath and walked around the corner. Café Envie was only about a block from El Gato Negro, on the uptown corner of Barracks and Decatur. It was my favorite place in the Quarter to get coffee. They also served liquor—and somehow managed to evade the city’s new non-smoking ban. As a result, all the caffeine addicts who smoked crowded in there all day long. Café Envie also allowed pets—something unique among the city’s coffee shops. As a result, it was always hard to find a table, as everyone out walking their dogs would stop in for a snack or a cup. The outdoor tables were full as I walked across Decatur, and there were about three people waiting in line when I walked in, one with a dog I knew. I reached down to pet Rambla, the friendly tri-color spaniel who was pretty much the neighborhood mascot, barely remembering to say hi to her owner. I stood back up as the young guy being served took his big mug of coffee and walked over to the condiment bar at the far side of the shop.
Nice ass,
I thought, shaking my head and feeling like a pedophile. He looked like he was a teenager. He was wearing baggy gray fleece sweatpants, black Converse high tops and a white ribbed tank T-shirt. His hair was trimmed down in a buzz cut, his waist very narrow, and his exposed shoulders bony. He was wiry and lean—one of those kids who had high metabolisms and couldn’t gain weight. He took an empty table in the far corner of the shop. He had a pleasant enough face, with a pierced eyebrow and tattoos on his upper arms. He caught me looking at him, and flashed me a friendly smile.

I smiled back and turned my attention back to the line.
He looks familiar,
I thought, and then dismissed the thought. Everyone in the Quarter looks familiar. New Orleans is a very small town, no matter what anyone thinks, and you see the same people all the time. I ordered a large regular coffee and walked over to the condiment bar. I added sweetener, half-and-half, and some vanilla powder. I walked outside and grabbed a table that a couple of kids who looked like gutter punks had just vacated. I sat down and sipped my coffee.

I was about halfway through the coffee when Rosemary Shannon came walking up Decatur Street from the direction of Esplanade. She waved at me and smiled. She was wearing a cloth jacket over a University of Kansas sweatshirt and jeans, and a baseball cap that she’d tucked her hair into. She darted across Barracks Street. “Hi,” she said, sitting down breathlessly. “Thanks for meeting me.” She wasn’t wearing make-up, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She looked an if she hadn’t slept.

“Not a problem. Do you want some coffee?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve had plenty today. Any more and I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I was with the police till really late last night, and then I was too upset to sleep. Every time I started to drift off, I had nightmares.” Her eyes got watery again, and she closed them, biting both lips. “I’m still in shock, I guess.”

“It had to be a terrible experience for you.” I said, injecting sympathy into my voice.

“Oh, it was so awful!” Her voice trembled, her eyes widening. “She was just lying there, in a puddle of blood…”her voice trailed off, and a tear slid out of her right eye. She wiped at it. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I reached over and placed a hand on top of one of hers.

“If I’d only known I wouldn’t have left her alone in the house!” she cried out, and her entire body trembled. “I would have never left her, you have to believe me, Chanse!”

“So, do you mind telling me exactly what happened yesterday afternoon?”

She got control of herself again. “Well, she was in quite a state after you left—I mean, she was already in a bad mood—I think you could tell that, couldn’t you?” She sighed. “After I let you out, I went back and insisted again that I hadn’t been on her computer. But she didn’t seem to care. I asked her if she wanted me to call everyone and ask them about it—you know, Darlene and Brett and Charity”—I recognized the names from the list she’d given me— “and she said to forget about it, she didn’t care. She was in a really bad mood—it was more than just a migraine. She told me to fire Darlene and Charity—and replace them.”

“She didn’t want to fire Brett?”

“Oh, no.” She gave me a sly smile.  “She’d never fire Brett. Then, she got a call on her cell phone. She sent me out of the room…and then she called me back in about half an hour.. She was in a much better mood then. She told me she was expecting someone to come by around five, and she gave me the rest of the day off, told me to go on home, she wouldn’t need me again until morning.” She blew out her breath. “I hadn’t been back to my own place in days, so I was pretty happy about it. I decided to treat myself to dinner at Angeli, and so just before five I left the house.”