Imogene in New Orleans (7 page)

“You was spyin’ on me, wadn’t you? Speak it true, Billy McGregor. God’s listenin’ atchya.” She shook her head, as if she had suffered yet another indignity.

“Mother, do you know Lena Ward could have very well
killed
our friend Glenway?” Imogene continued staring at the mansion. “And you just ran over there and started helping her like y’all were at a church picnic.”

“Bull mess, son. That woman wouldn’t kill a snake if she seen it in her bathtub. Y’all need to look elsewhere if you thank
she
done it. Lord, and her a widow woman like me with arthritis. Y’all think the awfullest things. No wonder you use that blood-pressure cuff so much.” She crossed her arms and watched another streetcar lumber down the avenue, angling her body to follow its track.

“Mother, you always have to exaggerate. I’m glad I
did
hear that tidbit about Neil and Allen, because you weren’t planning to tell us, were you?” Billy turned the AC vent to his face. His hair stuck to the sides of his head.

“I was gonna tell you. When we got settled. But Lena told it in confidence, and I didn’t wanna go ringin’ the bell on sweet Neil and Allen. It ain’t right. Way I figure it, them boys was good to the Gilbert boy, just like they’ve been good to me and Lena and most ’specially they been good to y’all.” She tapped them both on the shoulder. “And the Gilbert boy just wanted to hep ’em all he could. Shoot, you know
we
got people like that, Billy McGregor, and they’d do the same cockeyed thing for them they loved.” Imogene hit the console in between the boys when she said it. Goose barked and then jumped up on all fours.

“Yes, Mother, but those people aren’t suspected of murder, now, are they?” Billy ripped the cuff from his arm.

“Shoot, you talk like a boy with a paper rump. Next thing, since y’all already accused Neil and Allen and a senior citizen who can hardly walk right, you’ll be accusin’ me too. If y’all are gonna act like this, you may as well put me on a train back to Alabama.” She slammed her back against the seat and turned her head.

“Jackson, forget it. Just drive. Mama’s obviously so tired she can’t think straight.” Billy cracked open a bottle of water and tried to hand it to her, but she wouldn’t take it. She pushed it back twice before Jackson took a big swig. “Ahhh.” He looked in the mirror and saw her mumbling to herself. “Come on, Maw. Don’t be mad. I’m just surprised you don’t find it a bit odd.”

She refused to respond. All she did was pet Goose’s back and frown.

Jackson looked at the big blue home in front of him and said, “Well, Neil’s found us another place to stay all of a sudden too. I know it’s a good deal, but Glenway’s murder has me confused, not to mention suspicious. Neil and Allen are some of our oldest friends.”

Imogene piped up. “Yeah, y’all got pictures of ’em both everywhere at home. That’s why I can’t figure why you wanna accuse ’em.”

“Imogene, I’m not accusing them. I’m just saying they had something to gain from Glenway’s death, and so did your new friend Lena Ward.” He watched Imogene poke her lips out and shake her head.

Billy grabbed the directions to the hotel from Jackson. “I’ve never heard of Chez Hill,” Billy said. He looked worried as he read through the brochure.

“Yeah, me neither, but it’s close to everything—Jackson Square, Café du Monde, the Old U.S. Mint, Canal Street, the Louis Armstrong Park, where we’ll see the second line parade.” Jackson drove toward the Quarter with the evening sun setting over the city. They turned off Rampart Street onto Toulouse and saw the gilt and stenciled sign CHEZ HILL.

“We’re here, Imogene. You gonna give us the silent treatment for the rest of the trip?” Jackson smiled even though she didn’t answer. He threw on a visor to help contain his wild hair. It looked like his curls had been treated in an electric socket. He went to check in and returned in ten minutes with the room keys.

After packing the luggage onto a carrier and tightening the leash on Goose, he convinced Imogene to exit the vehicle.

She was still sore about Lena and Neil. “Y’all ain’t even worried about your friend gettin’ toted off to jail. You ain’t called him once.”

“Mama, we
have
been worried about him, but how are we supposed to call him in jail?” Billy opened the door for his mother.

She elbowed her way past him. “All’s I’m saying is if he was special to y’all, you’d help him.” She crunched her sun hat on her head, even though the light had started to dim throughout the French Quarter.

Jackson gave the car keys to the valet and led them under the enclosed parking space where guests’ cars were crammed side by side. The parking area was covered by hotel rooms above, and Jackson guided them out into the courtyard to the nearest elevator.

Imogene hobbled behind the boys, and as soon as they got in the open, she whistled through her teeth. “Honey, this is fancy, ain’t it? Y’all complained, but that Neil knows what he’s doing in every particular. Sweet hominy.” She began snapping pictures of the lush greenery and manicured flowers lining the pool. She approached a decorative topiary in the shape of a tuba.

“Come on, Mama. Let’s get up to the room.” Billy followed Jackson to the elevator. Goose slowed down to sniff the grass. A short man wearing a black coat with a purple handkerchief walked in front of Jackson and then stared down at the dog. He turned and put his hands on his hips, blocking the boys’ way. He looked the boys up and down, and then Imogene, and finally Goose. His eyes rested on the beast, who was freeing himself of excess water all over the perfectly trimmed shrubs. The man was compact, as if a tall man had been pinched together on all sides. He wore an official-looking nametag and had quick, fastidious mannerisms.

“Who are you?” His mouth was contorted in such a way that he appeared to have just eaten a handful of coffee grounds and was still suffering from the taste.

“I’m Jackson Miller. This is my family, and we’re going to our room on the second floor. Number 204…Mr.”—Jackson squinted to read the man’s name badge—“Mr. Hill.”

“Oh, no you’re not. Not with that dog, you’re not.” Hill stamped his loafer on the concrete, which made a popping noise, and then he pointed at Goose, who stood stark still and gazed with faraway eyes at the curious man. Goose licked his considerable snout.

“What do you mean? We were told that dogs are allowed on the property, Mr. Hill. Is that not correct?” Jackson held his arms open. Goose’s leash dangled from his right hand.

“Dogs, yes,” Hill said, his nostrils flaring, “but not
pigs
.” He pointed at Goose and then planted his hands back on his hips. The man’s hair was receding and he had combed it forward, which accentuated his bald spot all the more. He had a unibrow, which Jackson immediately marveled at, wondering why he had not taken a sharp razor to it. He would have continued on this line of thought had he not been so disturbed by Mr. Hill’s diatribe against Goose.

“We’ve already checked in. Look, I have the receipt here…” Jackson handed Hill the paperwork.

Hill grabbed it, crumpling the edges of the paper. He jerked it close to his face to read it and then pursed his lips as he said, “Mr. Miller, we’ll offer you a full refund and direct you to other accommodations, I assure you. But one thing is certain. You will not stay in this hotel with that beast.” He slammed the paper in Jackson’s chest, spun 180 degrees on one loafer, and stormed back toward the lobby.

Six

Jackson felt as if he had been kicked in the teeth. Imogene put her hand on her hip and turned toward the boys. “Y’all see what happens when you start accusin’ folks of things they ain’t done? It comes back and bites you on the end. Y’all are just reapin’ what you sowed.” She brushed her hand through her hair and watched the fussy little man hoofing it to his office.

Jackson hurried after Hill and caught up to him right as he was opening the back door to the lobby. “Mr. Hill, please, we’ve canceled our other reservations and it’s Friday night. As you can see, we’re traveling with an old woman, too. She needs her medicine. She’s tired. Her bones hurt, and she must rest.”

Jackson was really trying to sell it, but unfortunately, Imogene was laughing at Goose as he backed his butt up to her leg to get scratched. She didn’t look nearly as pitiful as Jackson needed her to look. She stood on one leg and scratched Goose with her foot, cackling at the beast. “Gooey, looks like your end’s itchin’. Lord, you a mess and Maw-Maw loves you.” She bent down and rubbed his belly.

Jackson frowned. “Sir, it’s getting late. My dog is completely house-trained…hotel-trained too. You won’t regret letting him stay.” Hill’s expression remained one of irritated stubbornness. “Look, we didn’t book your hotel in the first place. We planned on other accommodations. If I had known we were staying here, I would’ve called weeks ago to ask about the dog.”

“You should have kept your other ‘accommodations,’ Mr. Miller.” Hill put his nose up in the air.

“A friend booked your hotel for us. His name’s Neil.”

Hill took a step back. He looked Jackson up and down, as if he were inspecting a show pony. Jackson reached into his pocket and again offered the receipt printouts to Hill, who grabbed them. He tossed on his reading glasses to peruse the documents. He had not been using his glasses on the first round, but the mention of Neil’s name appeared to have changed him. As Hill read the papers, he absently clicked his ballpoint pen on and off and on and off. The noise was irritating, but Jackson kept silent.

Hill twisted his hips from side to side and then grumbled as he flicked the papers back at Jackson. He pursed his lips before saying, “If there is one bit of unpleasantness associated with that dog of yours, you’ll be out of my hotel immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, of course I do. Thank you, Mr. Hill.” Jackson neatly folded the receipt.

Hill pointed his index finger toward the sky above the courtyard, and in a voice that was one level below a screech, he said, “No pissing, no shitting, no barking, and no eating the linens. Your room better look like the queen of England’s when you check out.” Hill said it so high-pitched that Imogene turned and looked at him and waited to see what Jackson would do.

“Mr. Hill, I can assure you that we will leave the room as we found it.” Jackson walked over to Imogene, took the leash, and gently tried to pull Goose behind him. Goose growled. “Shhh. Come on.”

Hill stuck his hands in the air, as if he were asking the universe how he was supposed to cope with such people. “I mean it. I don’t care if your granny here bites the dust. You take care of your room.
Capiche
?” Hill snapped his fingers toward the group and then turned around in place, as if he were on a swivel seat. He mumbled as he walked away, “This place is insufferable.”

Jackson held his breath as Hill swung the door open and stomped down the back hall, disappearing into what looked like an office.

Imogene limped up to him. “You done good, Jack. Better than Imogene Deal McGregor could have. Shoot, I was ’bout ready to shut his lips myself, but I knowed it would only hurt us. That fellar was a donkey, wadn’t he? I reckon if we stuck a piece of coal up his tail, we’d have a diamond in ’bout three days.” She shook her head and grabbed the leash. “Well, boys, come on, ’fore that fellar comes back with a changed mind. Wait till Neil gets out of jail and hears about that fuss-butt. He won’t stand for it. He’ll straighten it out right quick.”

Imogene hobbled over to the elevator as Jackson wheeled the luggage cart behind her. “Come on, Maw. Go on. Pick up the pace.” She gripped her purse and hustled down the hallway. Billy held open the door to the room as Imogene and Goose trotted inside.

Imogene bolted the door and used both chains to secure it. “Boys, this ain’t been no vacation yet, I tell ye.” She limped to the corner of the room and sat in a chair. “The Gilbert boy’s dead, Neil’s in the can, and we hardly got a roof over our heads.”

She held her purse tightly over her shoulder, almost guarding it, as she had done since leaving the crime scene. It was unusual for her to take such care with it. Jackson watched as she removed her shoes and sunglasses without ever relinquishing the bag. She even visited the bathroom with the purse around her shoulder.

As soon as she closed the door, Jackson turned to Billy, who was sprawled out on the bed near the balcony door. The bed felt like feathers and was as lush as anything Jackson had ever seen. He belly flopped beside Billy, shaking the frame, and scooted up to him while his mother was in the bathroom. “Hey, sweetie, have you noticed your mother holding that purse closer than usual?”

“Yes, of course. She’s acting crazy ever since she saw Glenway’s body.” He put his wrist above his eyebrows. He looked a bit like a fainting Southern belle. “She thinks she’s Miss Marple. I really wish we’d go back to Harristown.” Billy’s face was flushed.

“We can’t leave now. Not with Neil in jail and Glenway dead and that Lieutenant Rogers apparently ‘in charge’ of the case.” Jackson massaged Billy’s arm.

Billy sighed. He had his eyes closed and his arm strapped into the blood pressure cuff. “I knew you would say that. You’re just like Mama. Always up for an adventure. But this isn’t an adventure, Jackson. This is serious. We should’ve gone to Florida like I suggested.” He pressed the start button on the monitor.

Jackson kissed Billy’s rosy cheek. “Something doesn’t seem right to me about that lieutenant. Do you know when he stormed into Glenway’s studio he was holding a duffel bag? When he saw Neil, he threw the bag in the corner.”

Beep, beep, beep
. Billy glanced at the monitor. “That reading’s elevated for me. See what y’all have done?” He sat up and took a sip of water from a bottle on the nightstand. “Goose, your daddy and grandmother are stressing me out.” Goose waddled over to the bed and sniffed the vanilla-scented air of the room.

Imogene swung the bathroom door open, still clutching her purse, and walked over to sit down on the bed opposite the boys. “Y’all already goin’ to sleep? It ain’t even dark yet.”

“No, Imogene, we’re just resting.” Jackson stretched.

“Shoot, that’s all y’all study. Restin’. You two oughta be in a rest home. Shouldn’t they, Gooey?” She leaned over to the beast as he sauntered toward her. She reached in one of the bags they’d carried in and removed a beefy dog bone and dropped it in his mouth. “Come on, Goo. Let’s go see this here balcony.” She walked to the French doors, which were secured by a lock and two latches, one at the floor and one in the top corner. She grunted to undo the first one, and as she did, the binding of a leather book became visible over the flap of her purse. It almost fell out. Jackson saw it and sat up on the bed.