Imogene in New Orleans (35 page)

He tried to open the car door, but it was locked. He kicked the door, and pain shot up past his knee. He felt the burn rush through his leg. He used the cane to smash the car window and glass spewed into the back seat. He reached through the shards of glass and swiped the bag. He heard the sound of voices and ducked around to the other side of the car. He felt the hair stand off his head. He stayed hidden as two people rode past on bikes. One of the cyclists glanced at the broken window, but he didn’t slow down.

As soon as the men rode out of sight, Jackson quickly deflated the other tires, and ran to Neil’s car. He threw the bag in the front seat, jumped inside, and hit the accelerator, speeding backward through Hill’s freshly cut lawn. The lieutenant sprinted toward him and began firing round after round. He connected on a couple shots. His bullets made pinging sounds as they hit the metal sides.

Jackson whipped the steering wheel around as he bumped out into the road. He rounded the street corner under gunfire, and by the time he got to the dusty alley where Neil, Thurston, Imogene, and Billy were supposed to be waiting, he saw them piled into Lena’s Seville about fifty yards ahead. Jackson whizzed through a stop sign to meet them. Billy looked ghostly white from panic. Jackson stopped the car and yelled for his partner to come ride with him.

“Are they following you?” Neil asked, getting out with Billy. Neil looked down the street, waiting for Rogers’s car to come speeding toward them.

“No,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “They won’t be following us.”

“How do you know?” Neil’s eyes bulged as he stared down the road.

Jackson held the cane out the car window for Neil to see. “This does a fine job of deflating tires.”

Neil took the cane and then opened the car door. “Slide over. I’ll take the wheel.” After Neil got in and closed the door, he patted Jackson on the back. “Good thinking, friend.”

Lena and Imogene took Goose back to the praline shop, because as Lena explained, “I got hungry customers, baby, and they depend on ol’ Lena Ward.”

Jackson told Neil to go straight to city hall. They passed the Superdome with its gold trim looking so much like a palace. The city councilor’s secretary admitted them after explaining that the politico was not quite available. They waited in the office outside the council chambers until Neil’s friend showed up. Neil shook his hand.

“We’ve got a quite story to tell you, Councilor. I want to introduce you to my friends. They were with me when we found Glenway Gilbert’s body and when we discovered that a New Orleans police lieutenant had stolen Glenway’s art and worked with the murderer.”

The councilor stuck his arm out. “Wait, a moment, Neil. Let me call the police chief first.” In what felt like a half hour, the chief walked through the door.

Neil and Jackson told the story of the last week. The police chief listened carefully, if not incredulously, folding his arms over his chest and fidgeting in his chair, as if Jackson and Neil were shooting poisoned darts at him with blow guns. He jerked his head from side to side, his eyes opened wide, and shifted from the front of the chair to the back. The chief was an enormous man who could rival Rogers in stature, and it felt a bit disconcerting to see him suffer through the tale concerning his unethical lieutenant. When Jackson and Neil came to a stopping point, he rubbed his chin with his big hand and said, “Why would Rogers help you raid the ballet if he was in cahoots with the murderer?”

Jackson spoke first. “Rogers was definitely working with Hill on the burglaries, but I don’t think he knew Hill had killed Glenway. The reason Rogers wanted everyone out of Neil’s house was so he could get the figurines. Or let one of his underlings steal them. He was blinded by the quarter-million-dollar value of those pieces. He got greedy, and his greed dulled his senses when it came to Hill. Either he couldn’t see Hill’s guilt, or he didn’t want to see it.”

“Hmm…” The chief continued rubbing his chin.

Neil said, “Yeah, Imogene’s the one who figured out Thomas Hill did it. Personally, I thought it was Buddy, the hustler who Glenway loved. I was certain he had done it. My partner Allen thought it was our neighbor, Lena Ward, because of the loan Glenway secretly gave her. The same loan that Glenway forgave at his death. Jackson here thought it was Thurston. And Billy thought it was me…or my partner, Allen.” He smiled. “Thanks, Billy.”

Billy removed his fingers from under his jaw, where he’d been checking his pulse. “Why do you say that, Neil? I never said that.”

“I saw the way you looked suspiciously at Allen as soon as you heard about Allen being the executor of the will. And then how you looked at both of us after learning Glenway created a clause to pay off our house. I know you were probably concerned about Allen being at the ballet the night Glenway was killed.”

Billy blushed. “It’s just that I found it a bit odd, that’s all. I really thought the hustler was the killer until Jackson met him that day. Apparently, Buddy really felt for Glenway, so then I wasn’t sure what to think.”

The chief asked, “What proof do you have that Lieutenant Rogers stole the figurines?”

“We have photographic evidence that the curio from the crime scene made its way to Rogers’s backyard.” Neil opened his phone and showed the chief the picture taken at Roger’s house. After the man had a moment to peruse it, Neil produced the bag from under his seat. “And I’m sure Rogers’s prints are all over these figurines.”

The chief looked squarely at Neil. “Maybe Rogers touched them while they were held in the evidence room.”

Neil nearly jumped to the edge of his seat. “They were never in the evidence room. If they had been, we wouldn’t have them now. ”

The chief looked at him suspiciously, poking his lower lip out significantly. “Yes, indeed, how did you get them?”

Jackson spoke up. “Sir, please. Call your evidence room. I’ll bet my partner’s blood-pressure cuff that the figurines never made it near the evidence room.”

“Just a minute.” The chief pulled out his cell phone and called the officer who processed crime-scene evidence. He introduced himself and then said, “I need to know what items you have from the Glenway Gilbert case…. okay. I’ll wait.” What’s that? You already received one call about the same items from a ‘Detective Miller’? Nonetheless, I need you to check again for my own edification.”

Jackson slinked down in his chair. The chief cupped his hand over the phone while he waited. After a moment, he mouthed words to the boys as he heard them. “Papers, calendar, cane, brushes, wine bottles, beer bottles, cigarettes, throw cloth, futon mattress, canvases...”

The chief spoke into the phone again. “No precious stones or carved pieces? You never had them in your possession? Hmmm. I see. Thank you.” The chief hung up the phone, took the bag of art, and then asked the boys to follow him. “You’ll need to give us full statements about everything.”

Jackson was the last to make his statement. The chief said he still couldn’t understand why Rogers would help raid the Tool Belt, if he was in on the crime.

“It was a ruse, sir. He wanted to appear helpful and willing so he could have more time to sell the valuables. That’s why he agreed to the night at the ballet.” Jackson smirked.

“All for these little things?” The chief looked in the bag and jostled the carved figures. “Surely Glenway Gilbert’s art can’t bring that much money.”

“There’s more than a quarter million dollars worth of art in that bag alone. The stones used in the figurines are worth half that.”

The chief immediately stopped shaking the art. He stood up and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Hmm.” He opened his eyes wide as he tested the weight in the bag, drawing it up and down like a professional lifter. He peered at the fine stones and then turned to Thurston, holding out his hand for the cane. “I believe that belongs in evidence, too.”

“Yes. This is what was used to kill Glenway. Thomas gave it to me last Friday. The morning after he committed the murder.” Thurston rubbed his bald head nervously.

“What a friend,” Billy said, studying the cane in the man’s hand. “Chief, you’ll notice the fleur-de-lis pattern on the side of the ivory handle. It made an indentation in Glenway Gilbert’s skull. I noticed it the day we discovered him.”

The chief inspected the implement, running his finger under the ivory pattern. “Well, we’ll have to see what Lieutenant Rogers and the hotel manager have to say now.”

* * * * *

On the ride back to Neil’s house, Billy checked his blood pressure and then he checked Thurston’s, who was quite amenable to being nursed, much more so than Imogene or Jackson. Jackson saw Billy studying the man’s skin, especially the lesions on his legs that Jackson had described. He noticed Thurston scratching himself.

“Do you suffer from psoriasis?” Billy asked.

Thurston dug his fingernails in his legs. “How did you know?”

Billy said, “I’m a nurse. You need to try aloe vera for a few weeks and then switch to cortisone cream. It’s sort of like fooling the skin.”

Thurston’s face relaxed. “Psoriasis is the reason I visit the park in shorts, even though my sores are so conspicuous. My doctor recommended sun exposure as a partial cure.”

“If you hadn’t been doing that a few days ago, we might not have solved this case, Thurston.” Jackson reached around to shake the man’s hand. They dropped Thurston off at the road closest to his condo.

“Remember to use the ointments, Thurston,” Billy said, ever concerned with health. “They’ll help with that burning and itching.” As soon as Thurston got out of the car, Billy let out a sigh of relief, as if he felt he could once again focus on his own disorders. He strapped on the cuff on the ride uptown.

Jackson looked out the window. He was thinking about Glenway and what happened. “Who would’ve thought that Buddy the hustler would be blameless in all this mess?”

“Not me.” Neil shivered, almost like he was disappointed. “No amount of innocence can raise Buddy’s reputation in my eyes. In fact, I think if Glenway would’ve spent the evening with us last Thursday, he would still be alive right now. Remember that, apparently, his fight with Buddy is the reason he went to the ballet on that fateful night.”

“Maybe so,” Billy said. “What will happen to Buddy the hustler?” He put his hand in Jackson’s.

Neil spoke up, “Allen’s got a plan for him. It’s not my plan. I mean, I didn’t agree to it, but Allen wants to work something out for him, if Buddy will cooperate. We’ll have to see what happens.”

Jackson nodded. “That’s fine. I wonder how Hill and Rogers will handle prison. I bet Rogers will have a better time of it than Hill. He’s such a testy little thing.”

Billy shook his head. “You might be surprised at who has the worse time of it. I think Hill might be relieved to be taken care of. Rogers, on the other hand, will run into some of the criminals he helped imprison.”

Thirty-Three

Allen sat in a lawn chair on his porch, stroking his beard. “But Buddy loved Glenway, Neil. This is the right thing to do.”

The boys sat beside their friends and enjoyed the breeze that carried the perfume from the jasmine. They had decided to stay a few more days with Neil and Allen. A full moon shone on the columns. Across the way they could see Lena’s light on in the praline shop. She and Imogene had been working all day in the kitchen. Lena said she was further behind than she’d been in years, and if Imogene hadn’t been there to help, she would have been “stuck like Chuck, baby. All these orders got backed up.”

Neil twirled his golf cap on his finger. “Allen, you say he loved Glenway, but Buddy isn’t capable of love, I don’t think. He’s a parasite. Just like Hill. Only better-looking.”

Jackson said, “Maybe Allen is right. I definitely saw a side of Buddy I didn’t expect. I think he may have cared for Glenway. Obviously, Glenway cared for him.”

Neil shook his head, and Allen spoke up, “Regardless of what you think, as executor of Glenway’s estate, I plan to honor his wishes. I know you want the same thing. Glenway asked for an art foundation in his name. My plan is to convert his studio and gallery on Royal Street into a museum space. We’ll put the administrative offices in Glenway’s studio. Thurston will be the curator and Buddy will be the muscle. Buddy needs something else to do besides roam the streets, and according to Jackson, I think he’s ready to give up his old life.”

Jackson breathed in the sweet scent on the porch. “I agree. Buddy seemed relieved not to be hustling anymore. I saw fear in his eyes when he talked about his future prospects. I think Glenway would’ve loved to see Buddy helping with the foundation. Plus, he’s one of the most famous models Glenway ever used. Everyone recognizes him as Bacchus now. His fans might appreciate seeing him in the gallery.”

They heard a rustle in the bushes. Billy jumped up. “What was that?” Goose growled and raised his head to peer into the darkness.

Jackson said, “It’s nothing. Stray cat probably.” He walked to the edge of the porch and didn’t see anything. He leaned up against the furthest column and looked down the side of the house. The bushes rustled again and Jackson called out, “Who’s there? What are you doing here?”

Goose barked and Jackson took a step back. Just as Neil ran over to see what was happening, Buddy stepped out of the bushes and walked toward the porch.

“Buddy,” Jackson said, as the hustler walked in front of the porch. “We were just talking about you.”

“How long have you been there listening?” Neil asked. He folded his arms and glared at the visitor.

“I ain’t been listening at all, cuz. I come by to thank y’all for helping me. Allen called this afternoon to tell me what he thought Glenway wanted. Being honest, I’m just glad I ain’t in jail as a suspect. I got something for you.” He reached in his pocket. Billy flinched and grabbed the arms of the lawn chair. Buddy removed a handful of figurines.

Jackson said, “You had those at your house. I remember them.”

“Yeah, cuz. I figured y’all would get more use out of ’em than me.”

Allen said, “Does this mean you’ve made up your mind…about working with Thurston?”

“I ain’t got nothing better to do, really. I could use the coin, too, so’s I can keep that house up in Algiers. You said the insurance man will be ’round to appraise what’s there? I ain’t took nothing out.” Buddy held his hand up, as if swearing a solemn oath.