Imogene in New Orleans (13 page)

“Yeah, and you’re gonna pay it, Mama. You’re the one who wanted this ride. Jackson, put your wallet back in your pocket. Mama’s paying for this charade.” Imogene protested, so Billy took her purse and removed one hundred and fifty dollars from it. “Now, give me the other two hundred from inside your shirt. I know you’ve got it. I saw you stashing that money this morning.”

She removed a folded-up stack of twenties from her bra.

Jackson said, “The trumpeter this morning called them Andy Jacksons. You need ten to give to Billy.”

Imogene only had eleven, so she snarled as she handed him all but one, which she returned to her undergarment. As the horse ambled toward the hotel, Imogene said, “At least we’re going back to the pirate shop after this to speak with that jolly barkeep, ain’t we?”

“Oh, no, we’re not, Mother. No more adventures. You’ve gotten your ride. I don’t care if I never get on another carriage. You’ve seen the French Quarter three times over just today. We’re not going to see about the pirate shop. I don’t care what the man knows.” Billy’s face was covered in sweat and worry. He looked like he could use a nerve pill.

Imogene folded her arms and started mumbling.

Jackson said, “Hey, Imogene, look at me.” She turned her head in the opposite direction and planted her arms against her chest. “Maw, what’s wrong with you?” She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Instead, she looked above the boys, up toward the buildings. She pouted, crossing her legs twice.

The driver turned around to tell the group, “All right, folks. We’re here at Chez Hill. That’ll be three hundred and fifty dollars.”

Imogene scowled at him. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself, mister, stealin’ from an old widow woman. You should’ve give it to us free, knowin’ we was chasin’ a fellar who could’ve killed a fine citizen of New Orleans.”

“Mother, hush. Jackson, get out and help her off this wagon.” Billy stayed behind to help her descend. She looked immovable, though, as she stared up at the balcony in front of their hotel room. Jackson followed her eyes, but he couldn’t see what she saw. He was thinking about why Catfish had run from them and how he could have killed Glenway.

Imogene called out, “Gooey, what are you doing up there by yourself, shug? Hey, boys, is Goose s’posed to be out by himself?”

“Mother, what are you talkin’ about? You’ll think of anything just to stay on this carriage.”

She pointed to the corner of the balcony. Jackson backed up and saw Goose pressing his big head up against the ornate ironwork. His compact snout fit between the bars, and the tip of his tongue stuck a half foot from his protruding teeth. He had sad, droopy eyes. “That is him. Goose, what are you doing?”

The bulldog panted through the railing. Imogene said, “That ain’t all, boys. Looks like them bags of ours, the luggage, is up there hemmin’ him in too.”

Jackson began running as he saw it. “Someone’s thrown Goose and all our stuff out of the room.”

Twelve

As soon as the boys and Imogene got to the room and found Goose suffering on the balcony, surrounded by their luggage and the overturned patio table, with no water and no food and panting like he could just as soon die, Jackson stormed over to the phone and called the front desk. He immediately asked for the manager, Thomas Hill. The clerk told him that she would have to locate Mr. Hill first and then have him call the room.

At Jackson’s urging, Imogene and Billy looked through their luggage to make sure nothing was missing. Jackson got Goose some water. They heard a knock at the door. Jackson beat Imogene there to answer it. He swung it open to see Hill dressed in a white linen suit with a yellow ascot wrapped around his neck. He wore a deep purple shirt and a snappy pair of brown loafers. He slicked his hair back with one hand at the sight of Jackson and kept one hand planted on his hip.

Before Jackson could begin, Hill stepped toward him and said, “And what did I tell you about your dog, Mr. Miller? Did I not specify that you would stay with that beast at all times, which means never leaving him in the room by himself?” Hill nearly spit as he spoke. The fine, dark hairs on his unibrow quivered.

“You did not, Mr. Hill. I can remember our conversation verbatim, and I certainly would have remembered that command.” Jackson stormed forward, leaning over the little man as he spoke. Imogene grabbed his plaid shirt to pull him back to the doorframe. Jackson was shaking. “If you had killed my dog, you and I would have had serious trouble, you little…. And who are you to throw our luggage on the balcony?”

Hill didn’t back down, even though Jackson was in his face. “I told you to watch your dog. I know I did, Jackson Miller. And when my housecleaning staff arrived in your room, your beast began attacking the vacuum cleaner. According to them, he jumped from the corner and began biting the wheels of the machine.” Hill stood on his tiptoes and pointed his finger in Jackson’s face.

Imogene said, “Jack, you know Gooey hates vacuums, sure as the day. He nearly chomped mine up last time you brought him to see me.” She pointed behind her at Goose sprawled out and panting in front of the bed. “Gooey, you done it, didn’t you?”

Jackson held his hand up to her and glowered at the man. “Mr. Hill, I apologize for my dog’s reaction to the cleaning staff, but you have our cell phone numbers. I would’ve appreciated a courtesy call before sticking him in the hot New Orleans sun to suffocate.”

Hill said, “But like I—”

“No, you listen to me.” Jackson pointed at Hill’s unibrow. Goose was sucking in air as furiously as he could. “My dog has done nothing wrong except be born canine. I know he didn’t hurt the cleaning staff, because he wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m too old for this shit,” Hill mumbled. He took a step back from Jackson and wrung his hands together. “Mr. Miller, you are on a short leash, if you’ll pardon the expression. You keep that fool dog of yours under control or you’ll be finding your belongings on the street next time and your dog at the pound.” Hill raised his head up so high that Jackson got an eyeful of the manager’s dark nose hairs. Jackson’s eyes were drawn to the scarf around his neck because of its bright, loud yellow color, which resembled that of a dandelion.

When Hill stretched his neck to make his point, a silver chain slipped out from beneath the scarf. A piece of carved jade dangled from the edge of the chain. The ornament had the likeness of a court jester. Jackson’s eyes got big as he stared at the piece of jewelry.

“What? What is it, Mr. Miller?” Hill looked down at his neck and stuffed the piece under his scarf. “That’s none of your concern. What is your concern is that slobbering, disgusting dog. You have been warned. Twice now, by my count. Do not leave him alone in the hotel room again…unless you would rather stay elsewhere.” He wiped his forehead with the fluffy end of his yellow ascot. “I will personally escort you out next time you so blatantly break the rules. I’m tired of this nonsense.”

Jackson couldn’t speak. He felt paralyzed from the sight of the precious stone carved just like the ones in Glenway’s studio.

Imogene stepped forward, possibly hoping to ease the angst of the curious little man. She said, “Mr. Hill, that sure is a pretty yella handkerchief you’re wearin’.”

Hill’s nostrils flared at the comment. He looked her up and down and saw her matching, casual clothes, as if he didn’t take compliments from people like her. “It’s not a scarf. It’s an ascot.”

Imogene flinched. “An ass cot? That’s ugly talk, mister.”

“Yes, an ascot. It’s a men’s tie.” His fussy little head twitched and he glanced down the hall. “Oh, why?” He held the palm of his hand against his unibrow.

“All’s I was sayin’ is you got a pretty necktie. You didn’t have to go cussin’ over it.” She stepped back behind Jackson.

Hill let out a tired sigh and said, “Why me?” He turned on the pad of his loafers, spun ninety degrees, and flounced away from them.

Imogene waited a moment. “Jack, that man’s nasty, ain’t he? Shoot, you was givin’ him the devil for a while, but you turned quiet. What happened to your fire, son?” Jackson watched as the little man waved his arms down the hall, grumbling. He flipped the tip of his ascot over one shoulder. Jackson coerced her inside, lest Hill catch her studying him and return for another round.

Jackson headed straight to her camera and began checking the pictures, starting at the very beginning. He feverishly scrolled through the photos, hurrying to the ones taken at Glenway’s studio. Goose came over to him and licked his leg.

Imogene asked, “Whatchya doin’, son?

“That’s it. I thought so.” He ran his hand through his hair, which the humidity had turned wild.

“You thought what, son? Tell Maw-Maw what you seen.” She turned to Billy. “What’s your partner doin’, Billy?”

He shrugged as he changed the batteries in his monitor. Jackson grabbed his wallet and told them he would be back shortly. Imogene clutched her purse and said she was going with him.

“No, you stay here and make sure Billy and Goose are all right. I need to get these printed” He waved the camera in the air, slammed the door in her face, and ran down the hall toward the exit.

* * * * *

Jackson held an envelope with pictures, hardly paying attention to his footsteps on the sidewalk. Imogene called to him. He waved and put the pictures back in the bag.

She leaned over the balcony and said, “You found some good ’uns that Maw-Maw McGregor took. I told y’all you oughtn’t try to send Mama back to Alabama.” She popped up and disappeared through the French doors. When Jackson entered the room, she stood with pride, waiting to hear how well she had done with her new contraption. She nearly bounced with anticipation, shifting her weight from one bad leg to the next.

Jackson walked straight to Billy and showed him a handful of pictures. “Do you see what I see, bud? Yesterday, I was so shocked by Glenway’s death that I didn’t even notice that busted glass case there.” He pointed to a curio Imogene had photographed. The latch on the curio was bent up, as if someone had pried it open with pliers. The carved stones sparkled in blue and every shade of green. “Remember what Neil said about the theft of Glenway’s figurines? Well, when I saw the manager Hill wearing that piece of jade, I began thinking the person who killed Glenway probably took the art pieces too.”

Billy said, “Do you think Hill stole them?” He flipped through the pictures and saw Imogene studying a set herself.

“No, I don’t. I don’t have any reason to think he did, except that he was wearing one. I think he’s just an ass. Many New Orleanians own those nice pieces. According to Neil, Glenway sold those figurines to people all over the city. If we look carefully enough, we’ll find them everywhere.” Jackson grabbed the bag. He noticed Imogene’s expression of wonder as she slid an envelope of photos into her purse. “What I do think is that whoever stole them also killed Glenway.” Imogene held her purse close to her. Her eyes were big. Jackson said, “We’re calling Neil right now. He needs to meet us at Glenway’s studio. I have a feeling we’re about to get some answers.”

Thirteen

Neil removed the crime-scene tape in the alley behind the studio and opened the door with his key. Billy nodded and then smirked as Neil used his personal key.

Jackson motioned for Billy to cut it out. He said, “Neil, shouldn’t they have a guard here?” He noticed the blinds on the back window were closed again.

“Yes, they should, but Lieutenant Rogers and his crew obviously aren’t doing their job. They don’t care who killed Glenway. We’re the only ones who care. It pisses me off too.” He whispered as he poked his head in the back door. “I know one thing. I plan to find out why they’re dragging their feet and focusing on me as a suspect, which is ridiculous.”

Jackson saw Billy staring at Neil. They filed into the back of the studio, where they first discovered Glenway. The only thing missing from the futon in the alcove was Glenway’s body and the mattress. Goose sniffed around for the red beans and rice, which had disappeared, much to his disapproval. They moved quietly to the front of the studio and saw Glenway’s desk.

Imogene approached a bookshelf nearby. A stepladder leaned against the wall. She dragged it in front of the shelves and shook as she climbed onto the first step.

“Mama, you’ll break your other hip.” Billy grabbed her by the arm and made her step down.

She glared at Billy. “Neil, do Maw-Maw a favor and look up high on that shelf.”

Neil hopped on the stepladder. “What am I looking for, Imogene?”

“Just tell me watchya see, son.” She removed the envelope of photos from her purse. She had placed two specific pictures on the top of the pile.

“Imogene, I don’t see anything.” Neil scraped his hand across the top of the bookcase, sending dust all over the floor.

“All right. Let me show you something, son.” She handed him the photos from her pocket, which Jackson had seen her hide.

Neil waved the dust from his face. “Are these the pictures you took yesterday when we found Glenway?” Imogene nodded. Neil glanced back at the shelves. “Well, there was a mesh hat on that bookcase and it’s gone today, obviously.”

“You best believe it, son. First thing I looked for here was the hat I seen in them pictures. It’s gone. And these boys don’t believe me, but I seen Catfish wearin’ a hat just like it today at the pirate shop and then they seen him wearing it when we chased him through the Quarter. I got a picture of it too.” Imogene took the bag from Jackson and began looking through the envelopes.

“Yes, Imogene said she had a little adventure while Billy and I were chasing Buddy. She said she met all sorts of people who have information regarding Glenway.” Jackson watched her find the pictures she took at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop.

“You see there. I seen Catfish at the pirate shop. He loves that yellow hat, just like my Virgil did. I know it ain’t the best picture, but that’s him leavin’ the saloon just as soon’s he found out Maw-Maw wanted to speak to him.”

“Oh, of course, Catfish, Catfish,” Billy said, shaking his head. “Miss Marple here thinks she’s found Catfish.” Goose sauntered over to Imogene and sat so that his butt touched her feet. She was an inexhaustible source of scratches and treats.