Dragons Luck

Forty-three

Even though it was still several nights before Halloween, the conclave had an evening when no events or gatherings were scheduled. This was done specifically so the attendees could enjoy the Quarter during its pre-Halloween warm-up.

Halloween in the French Quarter was never just a one-night affair. Starting about a week before, various bars would host costume parties with cash or bar-bill prizes for the best entries. If one really had a hot costume, it was possible to hit different competitions on different nights, sometimes on the same night, and score several prizes on the same outfit. Of course, very few actually attempted this.

New Orleans was a town that liked to dress up. Between Mardi Gras and various theme parties, nearly everyone had an extensive wardrobe of masks, costumes, and costume pieces one could mix and match to come up with new outfits. For many, it was a source of pride not to wear the same outfit twice… or, at least, not twice in the same season. As such, if someone was hitting two different parties in one night, the usual procedure was to duck back to one’s apartment or van and change into a totally different costume before hitting the next party.

All this meant that on any given night prior to Halloween, there would be individuals and groups roaming the streets and bars of the Quarter in costumes ranging from the clever to the borderline obscene. It was a field day for photographers and exhibitionists alike, and everyone had a good time.

Even tourists who weren’t expecting such a display would get caught up in the fun, buying inexpensive feather masks and boas to join in the festivities. It was often referred to as a Mardi Gras for locals.

Griffen, however, took advantage of the opportunity to retreat back to his own apartment for a quiet night alone. Even though the conclave, for the most part, was running smoothly, he found it was still wearing on his nerves.

He refused several invitations to dinner or for bar-crawling on the vague excuse of “got to take care of something” and made his escape. On his way home he considered calling Mai or Fox Lisa for company but decided against it. Simply put, he realized he was just “peopled out,” and wanted to be by himself. As a final, defiant gesture, he turned off his cell phone. Let them struggle through for one night without him. Tonight was going to be just for him.

Kicking back in the quiet of his apartment, he ran through the assortment of DVDs he had available. With the approach of Halloween, he had stocked up on an array of horror movies. Somehow, though, after what he had been going though at the conclave, the thought of watching a werewolf or vampire movie just didn’t ring his chimes. Finally, as a sort of compromise, he settled on Young Frankenstein and settled back to watch.

It was classic Mel Brooks, and silly to the extreme. He had seen it dozens of times before, however, and as the story unfolded, he found his mind wandering.

Slim had not attended any of the conclave events that day. What was more, when Griffen stopped on the way home to ask some of the various street entertainers if they had seen him, no one was able to give him any specific information. It seemed Slim was making himself scarce for the moment. At some point, Griffen would have to decide if he was going to take time off from the conclave to run him down and clear the air, or if he should simply wait until the event was over and things had calmed down.

Then there was Tammy. She was still alternating between glaring daggers at him and looking like a kicked puppy every time their paths crossed. Despite Tink’s reassurances that this was just Tammy being Tammy, Griffen still felt he should apologize or at least say something to her but was at a loss to know how or what. Then, too, there was the chance that if he was successful in dealing with her, she would take it as encouragement and decide to stay on in the French Quarter. He tried to envision his normal routine with Tammy bouncing in and out of it. His mind flatly rejected the image.

Heaving a sigh, he tried to focus on the movie.

A loud knocking on his door made him sit bolt upright, and he realized he had dozed off. Blinking, he tried to focus his eyes and mind as the knocking continued.

“All right. Coming,” he called, moving to the door.

Valerie burst into the apartment as soon as he opened the door.

“Your cell phone is off,” she said accusingly, as she looked around the apartment. “I thought I heard you moving around up here earlier. Are you alone?”

“Hello, Val. Good to see you, too,” he said, sarcastically.

“And, yes, I’m alone. Why?”

“Hold on to yourself, Big Brother,” she said, grimly. “I’ve got some news, and it ain’t good.”

He started to make a wisecrack, but looked at her face and abandoned the thought.

“Okay. What is it?” he said.

“Slim is dead,” she said. “Somebody killed him.”

“What?!?”

“But that’s not the bad news.” Val sighed.

“It isn’t?” He blinked. “Then what is? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“Word is going around that you did it… or had it done,” she said. “That’s why I wanted to know if you were alone. It would be nice if you had someone to alibi your whereabouts and actions tonight.”

“But how could anybody think that?” he said, genuinely stunned.

“Well, let’s see. Word is that you’ve been flexing your muscles at the conclave. ‘Don’t get me annoyed. I play for keeps.’ Sound familiar?” Valerie said, looking at him hard. “It’s also common knowledge that you and Slim went sideways to each other the other night. Then you take off from the conclave tonight, saying there’s something you have to take care of, and then are asking around on the street about where Slim is. You tell me what that sounds like.”

“This just keeps getting better,” Griffen said, putting a hand over his face. “What’s next? A visit from the cops?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” his sister said, sweetly.

“Nobody’s saying anything to the cops. Everybody at the conclave and on the street is afraid of you. They think you’ll go after them next if they cross you.”