Imogene in New Orleans (28 page)

Allen took a step back and looked at Jackson over his glasses. Jackson felt like a cicada being studied under a microscope. Allen said, “I’ve not tried to keep our relationship with Thurston a secret. Neil has.”

Allen touched Neil’s shoulder and whispered to him, “We don’t have anything to hide. They’re our friends.”

Neil didn’t say anything, so Allen faced Jackson again and continued. “Thurston has been attending our Thursday-night dinners this summer, taking Glenway’s place. He was here at our house the night Glenway was killed.”

“I see.” Jackson put his arm around Billy and tapped his shoulder blade. “We appreciate the deal Thurston got us at the Chez Hill, but was there another reason he recommended that particular hotel?”

“Certainly not,” Neil said. He thumped the papers on the desk. “It was simply a kind gesture, Jackson Miller.”

“Actually, Neil, it hasn’t been so kind. I mean, I’m not trying to complain. It’s just that we’ve had trouble at Chez Hill from the first day. We’ve been robbed. We’ve had our things and dog thrown on the balcony. We’ve had several run-ins with that ass of a manager, Hill. Then there’s Thurston and Rogers hovering around the place.”

Neil remained silent, as did Allen. Jackson sighed. “You have to admit that it all appears a bit suspicious. I’m not implying that you and Allen have done anything wrong.” Jackson felt Billy pinch him on the back, but he didn’t stop. “I just wondered why you’ve defended Thurston this whole time. Now knowing that you are friends, it makes more sense. I would do the same if someone were accusing you.” Goose looked up at the humans and sniffed the tense air.

Allen walked over to Jackson and put his arm around him. “I understand your concern, man. I know you’d take up for us and so does Neil. Don’t you, Neil?”

“Yes, yes.” Neil looked like he was forcing his face to appear pleasant, as if he had just tasted a disgusting entrée at a friend’s house and didn’t want to mention it.

Jackson patted Allen’s back. “Okay then. One thing we can all agree on is that we’re not totally sure who Blue Moon is or TH for that matter. Am I correct?” Jackson glanced at all of them.

“Correct.” Allen massaged his beard and inched closer to the wall.

Goose followed him, apparently hoping that one of those delicious chips might come hurtling toward his mouth. He had been unsuccessful at gleaning a morsel from the others.

“Then, I think we’ll all benefit from a trip to the ballet,” Jackson said.

Allen smiled. “A capital idea, my man. Nothing like a little culture to set the brain right.”

“Yes, the ballet…with Rogers. It should be an adventure.” Jackson pointed at the word “ballet” on the wall, where most of the names—Canebrake, Buddy, Catfish, Pirate—had lines drawn to the establishment.

Allen said, “Yes, we’ll be a bunch of sugarplums with Rogers…the nutcracker.”

Twenty-Six

Jackson couldn’t keep the nerves at bay, his right leg bouncing up and down as he thought about Lieutenant Rogers’s impending arrival. He sat at the table beside Neil’s locked office. When he asked Neil about the conspicuously locked door, which normally displayed the famed bead collection, Neil fidgeted.

“Glenway’s figurines are in there.” Neil stood and walked to the front door and then to the back. He was as nervous as Jackson, expecting the gruff lieutenant at any moment.

Jackson couldn’t even give his usual, undivided attention to the feast before him—the big pot of gumbo; the pan of jambalaya with a new pepper mix Lena had created; the shish kebobs with steak, fresh peppers, Vidalia onions; the French bread and steaming corn bread; and the chilled coleslaw made fresh by Imogene. He understood why Allen was urging Neil to sit down, but he too was watching and waiting and listening.

Billy took a few bites of the gumbo and then started fanning himself. Jackson watched as Billy grabbed the medical pouch under the table and carefully pulled it to his lap.

Imogene and Lena walked into the room and Neil stood, indicting with a wave of his hand that one of them could have his chair. Imogene shook her head. “Don’t get up, son. We’ll sit right here.” Imogene plopped down on the couch and left space for her friend to do the same.

Billy started twitching, as if the pepper in the gumbo was coursing through his blood stream. Jackson barely glanced at Billy as he stood and excused himself, hurrying away with the satchel clutched to his side. Jackson turned his attention to his full plate, tasting some of the wondrous nourishment before him. Goose waited expectantly in front of Imogene and Lena, as if he knew they were the source of this aromatic bounty.

“The lieutenant will be here any minute,” Neil whispered. Lena shook her head. “Y’all know it wouldn’t be no plan of Lena Ward’s to have that brute here, but y’all do what you please, baby. I tell you this. These eyes of mine is old, but they’ll be on that joker from the minute he step foot in da door.” In a quick, swooping motion, she ate a big spoonful of gumbo and rice, as if she’d just said the last and final word.

“Where’s Billy,” Neil asked.

“He needs a moment to himself.” Jackson glanced at the empty chair.

Neil flicked his mustache with his finger. “Everyone needs to be here when Rogers arrives. We need a united front.”

Imogene said, “Billy’s prolly havin’ a spell. I seen him holdin’ his bag of supplies and runnin’ out the room.” Neil stood up and hurried past the buffet toward the back of the house.

Jackson stopped him. “Wait. I’ll go check.” He walked the long hall to the back of the house, peeking in their host’s bedroom and not finding Billy. Jackson continued on to the guest room behind the kitchen, where Billy liked to hide because it was so remote. Jackson cracked the door open and saw his partner sprawled out on the cotton bedsheets.

“Come in and close the door,” Billy mumbled.

Jackson sat on the edge of the bed, and Billy removed his arm from his forehead. “We’re about to go to some strip club, Jackson, to find suspects, when possibly the killer is sitting right here in this house.” Billy ticked off numbers on his fingers as he named names. “Neil or Allen or Lena, or even Rogers could’ve killed Glenway. Each one of them had plenty to gain from Glenway’s death.” Billy pressed the button on the blood-pressure monitor and the Velcro crackled as the cuff inflated

“It’s all so confusing, but you could be right about any of them,” Jackson said, lying back on the bed. “But what do you want me to do?”

Beep, beep, beep
. The medical device flashed its results.

“I don’t know. But there are some strange things going on. I just went upstairs and saw that Allen covered that wall with the names of suspects. They’re hidden under a white sheet. Now why would he do that?”

Jackson knew that was a rhetorical question. He knew his partner well enough to realize that Billy had more to say. “And if you think about it,” Billy said. “The names we pasted on the wall don’t have motives as strong as the people down the hall from us. Not Buddy, Canebrake or Thurston. Not Catfish. Not even the lieutenant. And not TH or Blue Moon. None of them are as suspicious as the folks eating jambalaya beyond that wall.”

“Billy, we don’t even know who TH and Blue Moon are yet.” Jackson picked a piece of rice from his pant leg.

Billy adjusted the rubber tubing attached to the blood pressure cuff. “I know you don’t agree, but I think Thurston really is TH. You said that Thurston is Canebrake in Glenway’s book, but I still think he’s the mysterious TH.” Billy’s blond hair was sticking to his forehead because of the humid evening heat.

“The lieutenant was speaking to someone he called TH on the phone just yesterday, and Rogers said it wasn’t Thurston.” Jackson combed his hand through Billy’s hair.

“Okay. So maybe he’s not.” Billy shook his head. “But let me ask you. How come Neil knows all these people on the list? Him and Allen both. Shoot, they probably know who Blue Moon is. Regardless, I think we’re about to be chasing our own tails at the ballet. Didn’t you say Neil set up this plan to go with Rogers to the ballet? What if Neil and Rogers have been play-fighting, just for show? Maybe Rogers didn’t take him to jail that day. My God, who could head butt a cop and leave jail the next day?”

Jackson frowned. “Have you been drinking coffee? Or eating sugar? You surely don’t believe what you’re saying.”

“That pepper did affect me, but I’m absolutely serious. Think about it, Jackson.” Billy removed his pulse oximeter from his medical kit and stuck his index finger in it.

“But Neil and Allen are our friends, Billy. They loved Glenway. Sure, they have something to gain from his death, but they don’t care about money.”

“They
didn’t
care about money, Jackson, but maybe they care now.” Billy studied the tiny screen on the device, which displayed his oxygen saturation and heart rate. He shrugged.

Jackson’s mind swam with all that Billy had said. It was so hard to think of Allen and Neil as killers. He rubbed his fingers in slow circles on his knee, as if doing that would bring clarity.

A wild, ferocious knock sounded at the front door, breaking the lull in the house. Jackson sat up and tugged on Billy’s arm. “Come on.” Jackson ran out of the room, but Billy didn’t follow.

He made it to the foyer just as Neil said, “I’ll get it,” opening the door to Rogers. The lieutenant, who clutched a briefcase to his chest, walked in by himself. He wore a short-sleeved, button-down shirt and boat shoes. He wiggled his broad shoulders in the short sleeves like he felt exposed and uncomfortable. He turned around to glance through the beveled fleur-de-lis glass in the door, as if he expected someone.

“You nearly broke my door with the loud knocking, Rogers.” Neil closed the door as the officer edged into the foyer. A police patrol car pulled up to the curb outside the house.

“But I didn’t, did I?” Despite his tone, Rogers walked into the house sheepishly, almost like he was worried someone might jump from behind a wall and attack him.

As they walked into the room with the feast, Neil grinned and reminded Rogers of everyone who was there. “Here’s Allen and Jackson and Imogene and Lena and Goose.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. Rogers glanced at the crowd and then the hardwood floor, the way a kid will look when he gets caught doing something wrong. Jackson saw Neil’s pleasure at Rogers’s discomfort. Seemingly, the more uncomfortable Rogers acted, the more Neil smiled.

“We knowed him already, baby.” Lena spoke without even turning around.

“Of course. I just thought the polite thing to do would be to remind everyone. We do want our guest to feel welcome.” Neil smirked. “Right this way.” They walked toward the back of the house.

Neil paused and looked back. “Hey, Jackson, are you coming up with us?”

Imogene said, “But we ain’t done with supper yet.” She stood up to start cleaning.

“No, ma’am. Just stay here with Lena. I need to speak to the officer?”

Jackson wanted to make sure Imogene and Lena stayed away from Rogers. He was relieved when Imogene nodded and returned her focus to the food.

Before heading upstairs, Jackson stopped in the guest room to get Billy. “Come on. Rogers is here and we need to get this settled once and for all. Billy got up with a sigh and followed his partner up the stairs to the top of the camelback, where they lifted the sheet and entered the cool room.

Rogers stood over his briefcase, shuffling files and flipping them on the desk. He poked out his jagged chin and his barrel chest, looking the very picture of a captain debriefing his subordinates. “Back at headquarters, some of my detectives made me a chart.” He swung open a large piece of cardboard with two creases.

Jackson noted that the chart was similar to the one they’d made on the wall, the one covered with a sheet, just as Billy mentioned. Rogers’ chart displayed suspects’ names and aliases in circles and under the circles was a detailed list of each individual’s crimes. “Many of these men have spent the night in the city jail at one time or another.”

Jackson glanced again toward the wall, and Allen caught his eye and winked at him. As Jackson looked at the names on the chart, he suspected Rogers had either included ridiculous, fake, or flimsy suspects or he had omitted suspects to cover his own plot to steal from Glenway.

Rogers pointed to names. “Look here. Catfish’s been in jail for petty theft and for driving under the influence and operating a boat while intoxicated. Buddy’s been arrested for soliciting an undercover officer and for disorderly conduct and possession of an illegal firearm.” Rogers looked at his notes. “But it’s been some months since he’s been to jail. Not since December of last year.”

He continued. “Your friend Thurston has been arrested for drunk driving and for fleeing the scene of an accident.” Rogers looked at the boys like he had just explained quantum physics to them. Any second now, Jackson expected the cop to light up a congratulatory cigar. Instead, Rogers pointed to his cardboard display. “It’s all right here, boys...and we’ll pick those creeps up at the ballet this very night.”

Allen stroked his beard, viewing the display, and then grinned. “Speaking of creeps, one seems to be missing, Lieutenant. The Pirate is not listed here.”

Neil smiled. “Yeah, why isn’t the Pirate listed? He’s certainly a person of interest if the names in Glenway’s journal mean anything.”

“We…didn’t find a…there’s no ‘Pirate’ mentioned in any of Glenway’s papers.” Rogers backed up against the desk.

Neil removed a leather-bound book that Imogene had given him earlier in the evening, and opened it to the dog-eared section on Pirate. “Actually, Glenway Gilbert wrote the name right here.” He handed the book to the lieutenant, who grabbed it.

“Where’d you get such a book, and why haven’t you turned it over to the police?” Rogers sucked air through his nose. “We’ll have to look into this.”

Neil stood tall on the pads of his feet. “Finally you’re going to do more on the case than chase us around, arrest me, and steal from Glenway’s studio.”

Jackson watched the exchange between Neil and Rogers, then and felt a nudge from Billy who had sidled up behind him.

Rogers grunted and started looking through the journal. “I’ve been doing plenty on the case. You don’t even know how much.”