Murder in the Rue Ursulines

Chapter Eight

“Wow. That really sucks.” Paige said when I’d finished my tale. She shook her head and took a sip of her iced tea. “Do you think Freddy killed her?”

I glanced around. We were the only people in El Gato Negro other than the staff. Our waiter was wiping down a table on the far side of the room. We were seated in the corner furthest from the front door. I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, to tell you the truth. I’m pretty sure it was him I saw coming out of the house. And obviously he’s never going to admit being there. So it’s my word against his.”

“I guess I can kiss any access to Frillian goodbye then.” She rapped me lightly on the knuckles. “You couldn’t have gotten me in to see them before you accused him of being at a crime scene?” She sighed. “They’re not going to be talking to any reporters any time soon-and when they do, it’s going to be Larry King or someone like that.” She gave me a dirty look. “The good news, though, is Coralie has assigned the murder to me.”

“Well, you’re the paper’s top reporter, so of course.”

“Don’t flatter me, you’re not good at it.” She gave me a smile anyway. “But that should keep me out of the office-and away from her- for a few days at least. Huzzah!” She tapped her pen on her notebook. She’d taken plenty of notes while I was talking. “But at least I have an exclusive with the one witness who can place Freddy at the murder scene.” When I started to talk, she held up her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say you saw Freddy-since you’re not sure anymore.” She consulted her notes. “I’ll just print the description you gave me and let the readers draw their own conclusions. Although-“

“What?”

“You know, it’s entirely possible Freddy was there, but didn’t kill her.” Paige shrugged. “Try this on. Suppose, after Loren told them that Glynis sent the e-mails, he went over there to confront her, and found the body. Knowing how bad that would look, he got out of there and is denying ever being there.” Her eyebrows came together in a frown. “He went back home, told Jillian, and they decided to alibi each other because they didn’t know he’d been seen-and now they’re stuck with the lie.”

“How did he get into her house without being let in?”

“The killer maybe left the door open?” she suggested. “Freddy got there, found the door open, got concerned and went inside?”

“I suppose it could have happened that way.” I thought for a moment. “And of course, now he can’t change his story without making himself look guilty as hell.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “I guess it depends on whether his fingerprints are on the Emmy. In addition to yours, of course.” She shook her head. “How did Venus react when you told her about handling the Emmy?”

“Not well, and thanks for reminding me.” I pushed my plate away. I had about half of my burrito left, but I’d lost my appetite. “Did you interview Jillian’s mother yet?”

“I’m heading over there when I leave here.” Paige glanced at her cell phone. “Do you think she might know something?”

“I don’t know.” It was frustrating. “She and Jillian have been estranged for years-since before Jillian hooked up with Freddy. It stands to reason that whatever those e-mails were alluding to, she wouldn’t know. How would she?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Paige flipped back a few pages in her notebook. “That makes sense. I kind of got the impression when I talked to her on the phone that she really doesn’t know much about them-she’s just looking to get some attention from the media. And you know me, always happy to oblige a has-been.” She made a sour face. “But you never know-she might know something pertinent. No stone left unturned, that’s my motto-and when I’m done with her I’m meeting with Sandy Carter, see how this might affect Project Rebuild, if at all. And she might know something, you never know. She probably knows Frillian better than anyone else in town, and maybe, just maybe, she can get me in to see them-now that you’ve blown it. And I have a breakfast meeting with Jim Corliss in the morning. He’s the director of Glynis’s movie.” She raised an eyebrow. “He might know who Glynis was seeing. I hear that movie sets are hotbeds of gossip. I’ll talk to some of the crew while I’m there.”

“What’s the deal with the movie anyway? I mean, now that the star’s dead…”

“When I talked with Jim he told me they were going to recast. They’d only shot a few scenes, and if they can get someone to take the part over quickly, there won’t even be much of a delay-although he seemed to think it might not be easy getting someone to replace Glynis, given the circumstances.” She sighed.

I played with the straw in my drink. My head was starting to ache. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. ROSEMARY SHANNON. I held up a finger to shush Paige, and answered it. “MacLeod.”

“Chanse?” the girlish voice sounded slightly out of breath. “This is Rosemary Shannon, Glynis’s assistant? We met yesterday?”

“Yes, Rosemary, I remember you.” Paige started to say something but I waved my hand and shook my head. She nodded and winked back at me.

“I was wondering if you could meet with me?” She let out a half-sob. “I just don’t know what to do. I spent most of the night being treated like a criminal by the police and I just thought maybe you could, I don’t know, maybe give me some advice?” She started breathing harder. “I don’t really have any friends here in New Orleans, and you were so nice to me yesterday, would you mind? I don’t want to impose…if you’re busy I can understand. I just need someone to talk to.”

Interesting, I thought. I didn’t recall being anything more than polite to her. “I’m finishing a meeting right now, but I’m in the Quarter. I could meet you in, say, about half an hour?”

She let out her breath in a rush. “Oh, thank you, that would be wonderful! How about Café Envie? Do you know where that is?”

“Yes. I’ll see you there in half an hour.” I clicked my phone shut. “Apparently, I’ve made a friend.”

“Was that the assistant?”

“Uh huh.” I scratched my head. “She wants me to meet her. She doesn’t have any friends in town and needs someone to talk to.”

“See? I told you it always pays to be nice to people. Maybe now you’ll listen to me.” Paige signaled our waiter for the check. “You get what you can out of her-and see if you can track down the other people on Glynis’s staff. I’ll handle the stuff I’ve already arranged. I should be back at my place around six. You want to meet up and compare notes?” She handed the waiter her credit card. She smiled at me. “This is my treat. Well, actually the paper’s.” She shoved her notebook back into her bag. “I’ll type up your interview before then-I’ll let you read it before I turn it in, make sure I’ve got it right.” She took the slip from the waiter and signed it. “You’re lucky you’re my friend, you know? No other reporter is going to be so accommodating.”

“Thanks.” She was right. Now that my name was out there, the thought of what was being said about me on the news and on-line was a bit unnerving. “I do appreciate it.”

“Well, I have my own selfish reasons. You’re going to be a great source, and I’m the only one with access-so make sure it stays that way. Any other reporter asks you anything, you’d better say ‘no comment’ or I’ll make you sorry you were born.” She stood up. “And no need for that bitch Coralie to know who my source is. Everyone else covering this story is just going to be recording gossip and trying to get leaks from the police department-which is already happening. I still can’t believe your name was leaked before you even left the building. Venus must be ready to kill someone.” She ran a hand through her already messy hair. “But unlike those other incompetent boobs, I still know how to be an investigative journalist.” She picked up her bag, and gave me a grin. “Talk to you later, okay? And remember-NO COMMENT.”

I walked out with her and gave her a hug before she headed for her car. I took a deep breath and walked around the corner. Café Envie was only about a block from El Gato Negro, on the uptown corner of Barracks and Decatur. It was my favorite place in the Quarter to get coffee. They also served liquor-and somehow managed to evade the city’s new non-smoking ban. As a result, all the caffeine addicts who smoked crowded in there all day long. Café Envie also allowed pets-something unique among the city’s coffee shops. As a result, it was always hard to find a table, as everyone out walking their dogs would stop in for a snack or a cup. The outdoor tables were full as I walked across Decatur, and there were about three people waiting in line when I walked in, one with a dog I knew. I reached down to pet Rambla, the friendly tri-color spaniel who was pretty much the neighborhood mascot, barely remembering to say hi to her owner. I stood back up as the young guy being served took his big mug of coffee and walked over to the condiment bar at the far side of the shop. Nice ass, I thought, shaking my head and feeling like a pedophile. He looked like he was a teenager. He was wearing baggy gray fleece sweatpants, black Converse high tops and a white ribbed tank T-shirt. His hair was trimmed down in a buzz cut, his waist very narrow, and his exposed shoulders bony. He was wiry and lean-one of those kids who had high metabolisms and couldn’t gain weight. He took an empty table in the far corner of the shop. He had a pleasant enough face, with a pierced eyebrow and tattoos on his upper arms. He caught me looking at him, and flashed me a friendly smile.

I smiled back and turned my attention back to the line. He looks familiar, I thought, and then dismissed the thought. Everyone in the Quarter looks familiar. New Orleans is a very small town, no matter what anyone thinks, and you see the same people all the time. I ordered a large regular coffee and walked over to the condiment bar. I added sweetener, half-and-half, and some vanilla powder. I walked outside and grabbed a table that a couple of kids who looked like gutter punks had just vacated. I sat down and sipped my coffee.

I was about halfway through the coffee when Rosemary Shannon came walking up Decatur Street from the direction of Esplanade. She waved at me and smiled. She was wearing a cloth jacket over a University of Kansas sweatshirt and jeans, and a baseball cap that she’d tucked her hair into. She darted across Barracks Street. “Hi,” she said, sitting down breathlessly. “Thanks for meeting me.” She wasn’t wearing make-up, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She looked an if she hadn’t slept.

“Not a problem. Do you want some coffee?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve had plenty today. Any more and I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I was with the police till really late last night, and then I was too upset to sleep. Every time I started to drift off, I had nightmares.” Her eyes got watery again, and she closed them, biting both lips. “I’m still in shock, I guess.”

“It had to be a terrible experience for you.” I said, injecting sympathy into my voice.

“Oh, it was so awful!” Her voice trembled, her eyes widening. “She was just lying there, in a puddle of blood…”her voice trailed off, and a tear slid out of her right eye. She wiped at it. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I reached over and placed a hand on top of one of hers.

“If I’d only known I wouldn’t have left her alone in the house!” she cried out, and her entire body trembled. “I would have never left her, you have to believe me, Chanse!”

“So, do you mind telling me exactly what happened yesterday afternoon?”

She got control of herself again. “Well, she was in quite a state after you left-I mean, she was already in a bad mood-I think you could tell that, couldn’t you?” She sighed. “After I let you out, I went back and insisted again that I hadn’t been on her computer. But she didn’t seem to care. I asked her if she wanted me to call everyone and ask them about it-you know, Darlene and Brett and Charity”-I recognized the names from the list she’d given me- “and she said to forget about it, she didn’t care. She was in a really bad mood-it was more than just a migraine. She told me to fire Darlene and Charity-and replace them.”

“She didn’t want to fire Brett?”

“Oh, no.” She gave me a sly smile. “She’d never fire Brett. Then, she got a call on her cell phone. She sent me out of the room…and then she called me back in about half an hour… She was in a much better mood then. She told me she was expecting someone to come by around five, and she gave me the rest of the day off, told me to go on home, she wouldn’t need me again until morning.” She blew out her breath. “I hadn’t been back to my own place in days, so I was pretty happy about it. I decided to treat myself to dinner at Angeli, and so just before five I left the house.”

“She didn’t tell you who was coming over?” I asked. “Was it the guy she was seeing?”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Oh, she told you about that? No, it wasn’t Brett-she wouldn’t have made me leave if it was just him.”

“She was dating her trainer?”

“I wouldn’t call it dating.” Rosemary made a face. “They never went anywhere-he just came over to the house. It wasn’t anything serious, you know. Brett was just for fun.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I got the impression it was Freddy Bliss who was coming over.” She looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. “I mean, she didn’t say it in so many words, but she kind of hinted at it. It wasn’t the first time she’d sent me out of the house because she wanted privacy.” She gave me a knowing look. “She never did that when Brett was coming by. She didn’t care that I knew about him. I pretty much knew everything that was going on in her life, but these secret visits…there weren’t a lot of them, you know. Just every once in a while-and she always sent me home.”

“You never asked?”

“Of course not!” She looked shocked. “It wasn’t any of my business…although now I wish I had.” She sighed. “She wouldn’t have told me anyway, I guess. She would have just gotten mad. She had quite a temper…especially if it was one of her bad days.”

“Why did you assume it was Freddy Bliss who was coming over?”

“Who else would it have been?” She shrugged. She leaned forward and lowered her voice again. “Besides, one time when she told me to leave, the next morning I found a cell phone in the living room. It wasn’t hers.” She blushed. “I checked the stored numbers…and called one stored as MAIN HOUSE. Jillian Long answered it herself.” She gave me a sly look. “I just said I’d found the phone on the street, and she thanked me and asked me to put it through their mail slot.” She gave me a triumphant smile. “Jillian had no idea what was going on, but I knew. Freddy and Glynis were seeing each other behind Jillian’s back.”

I didn’t respond. My head was spinning. If Freddy and Glynis were seeing each other, not only did Freddy have a stronger motive-it also gave Jillian one. “Did you tell the police all of this?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” She made a face. “I didn’t work for them.”

I nodded. “So, why did you go back to the house?”

“I forgot my car keys.” She sighed. “I keep the keys for Glynis’s house on a separate ring. I don’t like having lots of keys, and after I ate dinner, I got to my car and realized I didn’t have MY keys. So I went back to get them.” She gave a shudder. “I mean, I knew Glynis would be mad at me for coming back, but I figured I could slip in and out without her knowing I’d been there. I always put my own keys on the table in the front room, and I was in such a hurry to leave that I just walked right out without them.” Her eyes filled again. “But when I got there, and put my key in the front door, I locked it. Then I knew something was wrong. Glynis was a stickler about locking the house-she would have never let someone in and left it unlocked.

“ She kept her own keys in the lock on the inside of the front door. So I unlocked the door and went in-and her keys were there on the inside, hanging from the lock, where they should be. The house was, you know, really quiet.” She took a couple of deep breaths. “I picked up my keys, and went down the hall to the living room-I just figured, you know, I would check and see if she was all right. I wouldn’t go back to the bedroom, in case Freddy was still there…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears. This time she let them flow. “The living room door was open, and from the hall I could see her. She was just lying there…her head in a puddle…and I started screaming.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It was so awful…”

“Why did you call Freddy and Jillian before you called 911?”

“I did?” She shook her head. “Yes, yes, I guess I did.” Her lower lip continued to tremble. “I wasn’t really thinking, I guess.”

“How did you know their number?”

“I-“ She thought for a moment. “Yes, my cell phone wasn’t charged, I remember now. I got my phone out and it was dead. Glynis’s phone was there on the table, so I picked it up and I must have hit redial when I turned it on. Yes, I remember now. I spoke to Freddy, I told him what had happened and asked what I should do. He told me to call 911.” She gave me a funny look. “How did you know I did that? The police didn’t ask me about that. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

“Freddy told me.” I replied. I watched her face. “The police will ask you about it. They’ll check her phone for incoming and outgoing calls.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, really. Is it?”

“It looks funny,” I answered, “that you would call Freddy and Jillian before you called the police.”

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose. Like I said, I must have hit redial when I turned her phone on.” She narrowed her eyes a bit. “Chanse, you have to understand. I was in so much shock, I wasn’t really thinking, you know? It was a horrible thing. Horrible.” She shuddered. “It brought back so many horrible memories…I found a suicide once.”

“I beg pardon?”

“My parents died when I was really young.” Her voice got very small. “I was in foster care. When I was a teenager, I was placed with this family who took in about twelve foster kids on a farm. One of the boys killed himself. I found him.” She began to shudder again. “And when I walked in and saw Glynis…it was like reliving that whole horrible time again.” She started crying in earnest now, her small body shaking.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” I took both of her hands in mine and squeezed them. “That must have been difficult.”

“Being in foster care was no picnic.” She struggled to get hold of herself. “Would you mind getting me a water?”

I stood up and walked back inside just as the kid with the gray sweatpants was walking out. He smiled at me, and I saw the row of braces across his lower teeth. I smiled back and went to the counter. There was no line, and as I ordered the bottled water, I looked out the front windows and saw the kid talking to Rosemary. That’s weird, I thought, paying for the water and walking back out. The kid was gone. I saw him about half-way up the block walking toward Esplanade. I handed her the water as I sat down. “Who was that kid? He looks familiar.”

She opened the water and took a big slug. “Joey?” She gave me a weak smile. “He’s just one of the neighborhood kids. He’s really sweet. I met him one morning when I was outside smoking on the stoop-Glynis wouldn’t let me smoke in the house. He bummed a cigarette from me, and we started talking. He’s a good kid, really. He’s had it rough-not foster care, like me, but his parents threw him out.” She shrugged. “I pay him to run errands for me every once in a while. You know, just to help him out.”

“I’d swear I’d seen him somewhere before.”

She gave me a sly look. “Ever go to a place called the Brass Rail? He dances there on weekends.”

Thinking maybe she’d brought up a gay bar to test the waters, I replied cautiously. “I’ve been there, but not in months.” I didn’t like the place. One of the more disreputable gay bars in the Quarter, it was not in the St. Ann axis. It was on Burgundy, further uptown in the Quarter. Its primary draw was the kids dancing on the bar in their underwear-and it attracted an older crowd. The Brass Rail only hired dancers who looked like they weren’t legal-and rumor had it they were also for sale. On the rare occasions when I went there, I always felt kind of sleazy. The dancers were very forward-as opposed to the ones in the Fruit Loop. That made me uncomfortable-I’m not opposed to strippers, as long as they didn’t try to get money out of me. If I wound up there, it was only after I’d been drinking and someone else made the suggestion. I never stayed for long. “Anyway, I need to get going.” I made a show of checking my watch. “Oh, do you know if Brett trains at a particular gym? I haven’t had much luck getting him to return my calls.”

“He trains at Bodytech, Uptown. I think it’s on Magazine Street.” She shrugged. “When Glynis was looking for a trainer, I saw his ad in Gambit and called him.”

Bodytech was my gym, but I didn’t know any of the trainers there. I wondered which one he was. “And how about Darlene? She hasn’t called me back, either.”

She frowned. “Why do you need to talk to them?”

I smiled back. “Just tying up some loose ends, is all.”

She shrugged. “Darlene’s a little strange, to tell you the truth. Something about her always bothered me, but I could never quite put my finger on what it was. I’ll call her and tell her to call you.”

“Thanks.” I stood up, and she rose as well. She startled me by coming around the table and hugging me.

“Thanks.” She wiped at her eyes. “I don’t really have any friends here.”

“Well, you can call me anytime.” I replied. “What are you going to do now? For work?”

“Go back to the agency I worked for and hope they can find something for me.” She replied.

“What agency?”

“Girl Friday.” She wiped at her face. “Maybe the person I worked with before I took the job with Glynis will take me back.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, though. Mrs. Clifford was really good to me-she didn’t deserve my leaving her the way I did.” She sighed. “It was wrong of me, but I really wanted to work for Glynis.”

“Not Sophia Clifford?” New Orleans was truly a small town. I’d done some work for Girl Friday when the agency first opened, doing background checks on prospective temp workers. I also knew Sophia Clifford slightly. A widow, she’d moved to New Orleans after her husband died with a lot of money to burn, and had gotten involved in the arts scene as a patroness. Originally from Greece, she had a thick accent and was prone to always wearing incredibly elaborate hats and gloves. The first time I’d run into her after the hurricane she’d rushed up to me and exclaimed, “Chanse darling! My house was looted by drag queens! All they took were my gloves and my hats!”

“You know her?” Rosemary was peering at me. “Maybe you could put in a good word with her for me?”

“Sure.” I smiled at her. “I’d be glad to. And call me anytime.”

“Thanks.” She wiped at her face again. “It means a lot.” She smiled.

I watched her walk up Barracks Street. I sat back down and got my little notebook out of my back pocket. I wrote down some of what she had told me, and then wrote the name Joey and circled it.

What she’d told me was interesting, but none of it was verifiable. If Freddy had been having an affair with Glynis, he certainly wouldn’t admit to it now. And she had no proof; it was all just conclusions she’d drawn from what she’d observed. It also didn’t make a lot of sense-why would Glynis be sending Freddy those threatening e-mails if they’d rekindled their romance? Unless, of course, she was using her knowledge of Freddy’s past to blackmail him back into her bed. That didn’t make sense, either. There was no need for Glynis to send him threats if she were seeing him in person. And if Freddy knew Glynis was the threat, he wouldn’t have hired me-and he certainly wouldn’t have told Jillian about it. She would be the last person he’d want to know about the e-mails.

Talking to Rosemary had just made the mess even messier. She only suspected that Glynis was involved with Freddy again-and the only evidence she had was a cell phone she’d found in the house one morning. It could, actually, have been Jillian’s phone rather than Freddy’s.

If Jillian knew Freddy and Glynis were reconciling, that would give her a motive-but then, that didn’t wash with me either. Freddy was Jillian’s fourth or fifth husband. It’s not like she was a stranger to failed marriages. I doubted very seriously she would be so enraged she’d kill Glynis. She’d just get a lawyer and divorce him.

I glanced at my watch. It was now after three. I flipped open my phone and dialed Bodytech. Allen would most likely be gone.

After the hurricane, I’d started seeing Allen Johnson, who owned Bodytech. I’d known Allen for years. He and his long-time partner had separated after the flood. We were both lonely, and I hadn’t been surprised when Allen and his partner had gotten back together again. Things between us had been uncomfortable for a while, but they were getting better. Still, these days I chose to work out in the evenings when I knew he wouldn’t be there.

My therapist called it avoidance. I called it working out in peace.

“Bodytech Fitness.” Mallory answered, the nice young woman who worked the afternoon and evening shift at the front desk. I liked her a lot.

“Hi Mallory, this is Chanse MacLeod. I was wondering if I could make an appointment with Brett for training?”

“Seriously?” She laughed. “I’m sorry-you caught me offguard. You want a training session?”

“Well, I feel like my workouts are getting a little stale, and I thought maybe a few sessions with a trainer would motivate me,” I lied. “And Brett was recommended to me.”

“Let me check the book.” There was a clunk as she set the phone down. “Okay, he has an opening tomorrow morning at ten. Does that work for you?”

“Nothing tonight?”

“Sorry, no, he’s booked solid. Should I put you down for ten tomorrow morning?” Her voice became business-like as she went into her spiel. “There’s no charge for the first session, but after that it’s fifty dollars a session, in advance, unless you buy a package, and that’s $200 for five, or $375 for ten-both of which are deeply discounted on paying one at a time. Ten, of course, is the best deal. It works out to $37.50 per session.”

“Thanks, Mallory, put me down for tomorrow morning…”