Big Easy Escapade (11 page)

Wendy cleared her throat. “I hate to be
negative, but it sounds like Daisy’s going to die. Like maybe her
soul flies away?”

“Or she’s floating down the river or in the
lake,” Kate said.

“Let’s not think that way,” Vivian said, then
scratched out the “die” she had just written on the notepad.

Lucy stood up. “I think the dense forest is
that freak-show Hairy Harry. I mean, come on. I’ve never seen that
much hair on any mammal, and I used to work at a vet’s office!”

“I can’t figure out the mirror thing,” Kate
said. “I’ve been thinking about it since I got up, and I got
nothin’.”

They all pondered that for a minute. Lucy
spoke up. “Is there a place here that has a lot of mirrors? I
haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, and I pay attention
because it’s kinda what I do.” Lucy was an interior designer in
Boulder, Co., where the renovation market was booming.

Everyone was quiet. Vivian slammed the pen
down. “We aren’t going to figure it out sitting around here. I’m
getting dressed. Let’s go grab some breakfast and we’ll call
Adrienne. See if she has any updates from her brother.”

“We need to find out more about the other
cases, too,” Wendy said.

The girls got ready quickly, dressing in
capris and skirts, short-sleeve blouses and tank tops, then headed
over to Stanley’s on Jackson Square for brain food.

They each hopped on a stool at the counter
and ordered after perusing the menu. Lucy got the Breaux Bridge
Breakfast with boudin, ham, eggs, cheese and Creole hollandaise.
Wendy ordered the Bananas Foster French Toast complete with ice
cream on top. Vivian played it safe with the Stanley Classic —
scrambled eggs, bacon, Creole potatoes and toast. Kate went out on
a limb, rather leg, Eggs Stella — cornmeal-crusted soft-shelled
crab with eggs, Canadian bacon and Creole Hollandaise on an English
Muffin.

“I’m covering lots of culture with this
breakfast.”

Vivian couldn’t help herself.
“Stelllllllaaaaaaaa!!!”

The girls cracked up laughing. A few minutes
later, breakfast was served, and everyone was quiet. Vivian finally
threw in her napkin and reached for her phone. “Time to call
Adrienne.”

Adrienne picked up on the first ring. “Hey,
V.”

“Hey, A. Anything from Antonio? I heard from
Jason this morning and he’s pissed. Thinks the cops aren’t working
hard enough.”

“I know it’s tough for him, but believe me,
they’re working. Antonio only slept two hours last night. I’m sure
they’re not able to tell Jason all the details of the
investigation.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I do have some
news, though. Remember the fight at the club? While Bruno was
dragging their asses outside, two guys slipped backstage. Antonio
thinks it’s the same two who took her out the back but he can’t be
100 percent sure.”

A chill ran down Vivian’s spine. “Do the
police know who they are or how to find them?”

“Antonio said they reviewed the video from
the front door and haven’t been able to put anything together.”

“Shit,” Vivian said. “I hope there’s
something on the video that connects.”

Adrienne sighed. “I know, honey. And you can
bet if there’s something to find, Antonio will find it. They’re
doing a recreation of the crime scene today with the club’s video
system. They use stand-ins, then compare to the original video so
they can get a better idea of the height and weight of the
kidnappers.”

“That’s smart.” Vivian could hear Al in the
background.

“Al wants you to know that he’s got his
feelers out, too. He’s meeting some associates later at Mosca’s to
get the lowdown. Gino’s pretty pissed and these guys are good at
getting information.”

“Sounds good. I don’t know what we’re doing
today, but we’re going to do something to help. We watched a news
story this morning about the two kidnappings. Got any news
there?”

“
Not
much, Antonio’s being pretty tight-lipped. He did say that the
bouncer saw the second girl leaving the club
voluntarily
in a newer,
gray Mustang. They’re not even convinced she has been kidnapped,
but her family is pushing for an investigation. Unfortunately,
there are thousands of gray Mustangs in New Orleans and not much
else to go on.”

“At least it’s something, and good for her
family for pushing.”

“Okay, listen, you girls be safe and try to
have some fun while you’re at it.”

“Always.” Click. Vivian turned on her stool
to face her friends and relayed the conversation. “So other than
keeping our eyes peeled for gray Mustangs, what are we going to do
today to help?”

Wendy stood up and rubbed her belly. “I
basically had dessert for breakfast, so whatever we’re doing, I
need to walk. Where are the notes from Kate’s dream?”

Vivian pulled them out of her blue-jean-skirt
pocket. “Since we don’t know whether the cryptic dream told us to
trust Vikki or not, I guess we go with not and look into her.”

“We need to see if she’s dancing at Gino’s
again or anywhere else,” Wendy said.

Kate whipped out her phone. “I bet she has a
Facebook page. I’ll look her up.”

While Kate worked on that, Vivian asked,
“Y’all have any thoughts on the float and fly thing?”

Wendy and Lucy looked at each other. Lucy
answered, “I’m afraid nothing that doesn’t involve Daisy floating
down the Mississippi.”

“Eeew. Okay, moving on. What about flower
petals?”

“Well, her name is Daisy. And she did get
flowers,” Kate said. “I think we find out who delivered them.”

Lucy snapped her fingers. “I saw on the
envelope it said ‘Louie’s’ and there was a flower that looked like
a trumpet. I thought it was pretty clever.”

“Good memory,” Vivian said.

“Let me look them up.”

Kate hopped off her stool. “I found Trikki
Vikki’s page. She’ll be swinging around a pole tonight at Kitty
City on Bourbon. I think we go!”

“Definitely!” Vivian said.

Wendy looked up at the ceiling. “Oh my god,
that sounds trashy.”

“Come on, we gotta do it for Daisy!” Vivian
said.

Wendy picked up her coffee cup and offered a
toast. “To Kitty City we’ll go. For Daisy!”

L
ouie’s
Flowers opened at 10, and since it was a quarter ’til, the girls
decided to take the streetcar to Uptown. They caught the Riverfront
car to Canal, then walked the few blocks to the St. Charles
line.

Kate snapped pictures as they passed the
historic homes, most built in the mid-1800s and survivors of many a
hurricane. The oak trees along the esplanade were draped with Mardi
Gras beads, and the yards were immaculately landscaped.

“Doesn’t Anne Rice live around here?” Lucy
asked.

Wendy shook her head. “She doesn’t anymore. I
was here 10 years ago for Mardi Gras and passed her house on the
way to a parade, though it was more like a mansion.”

“I wonder if Harry Connick, Jr. lives
close-by?” Kate said as she took another picture. “He is one very
talented guy.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Wendy said. “He’s on
my list of people I’d like to meet.”

“Mine, too,” Lucy said. “He’s cute.”

Vivian agreed and laughed and tagged them all
on Facebook as they passed Tulane University. “Getting
edumacated.”

Wendy pulled the signal cord on the
streetcar. The driver stopped and they hopped out on Hillary
Street, then walked a few blocks to Maple and found Louie’s
Flowers.

Vivian opened the door and walked in and
stopped, breathing in the fresh blossoms.

A petite brunette met them near the front of
the store. Her name tag read Sonya. “Can I help you with something
in particular?”

They looked back and forth at each other
until Kate spoke up. “A friend of ours received a flower delivery
from your shop last night, and we just wanted to inquire as to who
sent it.”

Sonya glanced at the balding man behind the
counter perfecting an arrangement of tulips, calla lilies and baby
blue hydrangeas.

He looked up. “The delivery to the French
House?”

“That’s the one.”

He walked out from behind the counter and put
his arm around Sonya’s shoulders. “We’ve already talked to the cops
about this.”

“We just want to know who sent it,” Wendy
said.

Vivian put her hands together in front of her
chest, begging. “We won’t share it with anyone. We’re just trying
to find our friend.”

“Please,” Lucy and Wendy pleaded
simultaneously.

Sonya shrugged and looked at her beau. “Aw,
go ahead, Larry.”

He sighed. “Oh, all right. The guy’s name was
Harry Houghton. He had a very specific order, and he wanted it
delivered at a very specific time. Kinda weird, but he paid in cash
so I didn’t ask any questions.”

“What was his request?” Kate asked.

Larry went back behind the counter and got on
the computer. He pulled up the order and read it to the girls.
“Petite pink calla lilies, white Oriental lilies and 20-inch stem,
lavender roses.” He looked up from the screen and shook his head.
“He insisted on the 20-inch roses. It was weird.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about
the order?” Vivian asked.

Larry glanced back at the screen. “He wanted
it delivered at 10:30 on the dot.”

“He instructed us to double the driver’s tip
if it was delivered within three minutes of that,” Sonya added,
joining Larry behind the counter.

“Our delivery guy is in high school and was
downright excited to be delivering to the French House. He was on
time,” Larry said and grinned.

Sonya bumped him with her hip and tsked
him.

“What? He’s going to find out about these
things one way or another.”

“Not on our time. I’m friends with his
mother, for god’s sake! If Pat found out she’d be madder ’n a
mudbug in a pot.”

“We appreciate you talking to us,” Vivian
said and took a step toward the door. “We’re going to do our best
to help find her.”

Sonya handed her a card. “If y’all need
anything, call us.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Larry said with a
warm smile.

***

Daisy could hear a television coming from
another room and faint music on the street. She lay in bed with her
eyes closed, slowly waking up, trying to place the day and where
she was. Her head felt like 20 pounds of sludge.

French House last night, night off
tonight, Houston tomorrow.
She felt for Jason in the bed beside her, not finding him,
and opened her eyes. The floor-length, beige curtains were closed
but light crept in around the edges. An oversized armoire held a
television and a desk with a bottle of water and bowl of fruit sat
in a corner. She turned her head. A blue-and-tan-striped chair was
in another corner, and the clock on the nightstand read 12:08. The
closet and bathroom doors were closed, as was the door to the
room.
Where the fuck am I? Where’s Bam-Bam?

“Jason!” she called but got no response.
“Jason!” She yelled louder.

She
thought back to last night.
I danced, showered, got ready
and … think! What happened after that? Did we go out?
She looked under the covers and
was relieved to see she still wore the clothes from last night. She
turned over on the bed and her hair fell around her face.
What the?
She pulled her
hair in front of her eyes, running it through her fingers. What was
supposed to be fiery red was now pitch black.
What the
fuck is going on?

The door opened and a tall, muscular,
olive-skinned man wearing black slacks and a crisp, white shirt
closed the door and walked into the room.

Daisy flipped over and pulled the covers up
to her chin. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Jason?”

***

After leaving Louie’s Flowers, the girls
ventured out onto Maple Street to regroup.

Kate pointed down the street. “Coffee.
Corner. Let’s go.” She led the way.

They picked a table on the wraparound front
porch and ordered a round of coffees, except for Vivian who got a
bottle of water. “I need to hydrate.”

A cool breeze rustled the leaves in the huge
trees and the humidity wasn’t too stifling. A few other customers,
some alone reading or working on laptops, occupied the other tables
on the porch.

Wendy poured milk into her cup. “We didn’t
learn much from the flower shop. What next?”

“What are we doing here?” Lucy asked,
fiddling with her spoon. “We’re not the police, and if anyone’s
going to find her it’s going to be them, not us. I’m not sure we’re
qualified.”

Kate dumped sugar into her double espresso.
“We may not be the most qualified, we may not have a badge, but
dammit, we’re smart girls and I had a dream. I know it means
something!”

“Way to get fired up, Kate!” Vivian gave her
a high-five. “Let’s call Adrienne again, see if anything has
happened since this morning.”

“And I think we look into that Hairy Harry
some more,” Kate said and took a big drink. “I don’t trust anyone
with that many overactive follicles. Maybe he hired those two
sleazeballs who took her.” Kate looked down at her empty drink.
“That was good.”

“There’s a bookstore across the street that
I’d like to run in,” Wendy said. “Let’s hop over there before we
look for follicle man.”

Vivian pulled her phone out and dialed as
they walked to the Maple Street Book Shop. Adrienne answered on the
third ring, so Vivian sat on a rocker on the front porch while the
other girls went inside.

“Hey, it’s Viv. We were just checking
in.”

“Hold on a sec.”

Vivian heard shuffling and noise in the
background. After a minute Adrienne came back.

“Sorry, we’re at Mosca’s talkin’ to the guys
about what happened. They’re on it. In fact, one of them knows the
lead detective on one of the missing girls. Gonna get us some
details. What are you up to?”