by Eric Wilder
“No, but maybe it’s the path we need to follow.”
“If we’re not dreaming,” I said.
“If we are, we’ll have to wake up sometime,” J.P. said. “Let’s move out.”
We made good time for the next hour as we traversed the pathway that had appeared from nowhere. We also began seeing other things that seemed totally out of place.
“It’s a mirage,” J.P. said.
I wasn’t so sure as I stared up at Jackson Square, St. Louis Cathedral and the Pontalba Buildings, in the sky above us.
“I’ve never seen a mirage,” Abba said. “What’s causing it?”
“Strange atmospheric conditions,” J.P. said. “New Orleans is nearby. That’s why we see it.”
“Not so fast, lad,” Rory said. “Take a look now.”
The vivid French Quarter image was gone, replaced by buildings in another grand city.
“You know where it is?” J.P. asked.
“I do,” Rory said. “It is Glasgow, Scotland.”
“Something or someone is playing tricks on our minds,” Abba said.
We were still looking at the mirage of Glasgow when Slick and Lucky began barking. We hadn’t noticed that they were ahead of us and had gotten out of our sight.
“Stay put,” J.P. said. “I better check this out before we go any further.”
He was gone no more than a few minutes when he appeared through the fog on the trail in front of us.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Wait and see for yourself. You’re not going to believe it,” he said.
Chapter 29
Music in Pinky’s bistro segued seamlessly from the Roaring Twenties to early New Orleans jazz as the bartender named Louis took the hundred-dollar bill Tony held out to him. After twisting the end of his handlebar mustache, he stuffed the money into an inner pocket of his white tuxedo.
“Hate to disappoint,” he said. “Pinky’s not here tonight. Maybe I can help.”
“When’s he coming back?” Tony asked.
“Not till tomorrow,” Louis said.
Seeing Louis wasn’t going to return the hundred he’d given him, Tony decided to ask him a few questions.
“Did you know the man who was killed here the other night?”
“You cops?”
“Do we look like cops?”
“Off-duty cops, maybe.”
“We ain’t cops, off-duty or otherwise. Eddie and me have a few questions, and I got more bennies for you if you can answer them. Capiche?”
“Pinky don’t like the help talking about the customers.”
Tony fished another hundred from his wallet and held it on the bar in front of Louis.
“Pinky ain’t here,” he said.
Louis took the money, stuffing it into the same pocket as before.
“Like I said, business has been slow for the past month, and I need to pay some bills. What was your question again?”
“Did you know Diego Contrado?”
“Yeah, I knew Mr. Contrado. Came here a lot. Sometimes in the middle of the day. Always sat at the bar, same place as you two.”
“Was Angus Anderson ever with him?”
Louis hesitated a moment before answering. “Sure. They were business associates and met here all the time.”
“Associates and not friends?”
“They talked business. Horses, mostly.” Louis grinned. “Every now and then they’d talk about women.”
“But Anderson wasn’t here the night Contrado was killed?”
Louis hesitated again. “I didn’t say that. They were here earlier. They argued. Mr. Anderson was mad as hell. Stomped out of here like a crazy man. Didn’t even bother clearing his tab.”
“What did Contrado do?”
“Just laughed. Called Mr. Anderson a loco gringo.”
“Did you tell this story to the police?” Tony asked.
“I never talked to the cops,” Louis said.
“Oh? How did you get out of that?”
“Pinky spoke to them for me.”
Eddie gave Tony a glance. “What about the cook, the waitresses, and the rest of the staff? Did the cops question them?”
“They only talked to Pinky. He told them what they needed to know. You fellows need another Monkey Shoulder?”
“Keep them coming,” Tony said.
“This bottle’s empty,” Louis said. “I’ll get another from the back.”
When they were alone at the bar, Eddie pulled out a notepad, writing something in it.
“What?” Tony said.
“The names of the cops that interviewed Pinky. Making a note to remind me to call Tommy and find out who they are.”
“On the take,” Tony said. “You can bet on that one. Sounds like they already knew who they were going to charge for Contrado’s murder.”
“Tommy’s going to earn his keep before this one’s over with,” Eddie said. “Oh, and remind me to tell Frankie about Monkey Shoulder.”
“The best decision you ever made hiring Tommy,” Tony said.
“Hope you’re right, and I hope you don’t run out of hundreds.
Tony had no time to reply as Louis returned with a fresh bottle of the exotic scotch, pouring each of them fresh drinks. Music in the bar had changed again, this time to ragtime piano. Fog wafted through the front door when a handsome man in a blue pinstripe suit and an attractive woman in a black designer dress entered the bistro. Tony and Eddie didn’t notice.
“What was Anderson and Contrado arguing about?” Tony asked.
When Louis held out his palm, Tony crossed it with another hundred-dollar bill.
“I didn’t catch the entire conversation,” Louis said. “Just bits and pieces.”
“Then give me the gist of it.”
“They were arguing about a horse. Apparently, Mr. Contrado had sold one to Mr. Anderson. For some reason, Mr. Anderson wasn’t too happy about it. He wanted his money back. Mr. Contrado wasn’t having none of it and laughed at him. If you know Mr. Anderson, then you know he don’t like to be laughed at.”
“I’m half starved,” Tony said. “Can we get something to eat here at the bar?”
“You bet,” Louis said. “I’ll get a couple of menus and be right back.”
When they were once again alone, Eddie asked, “What’s your take on this pile of shit we’re stepping in?”
“Don’t know. I wouldn’t think someone would kill a good bud, but then there was Cain and Abel, so you can’t rule it out.”
“Hell, Tony, it didn’t sound to me like they’re buds. Like Louis said, more like business associates.”
“Hard for me to believe a man with Anderson’s stroke would be involved in any way with the Mexican Cartel.”
“Why not?” Eddie asked. “Their money spends like everyone else’s.”
“Right about that.”
“Who’ll we ask about the horse?”
“Frankie, I guess,” Tony said.
“Or Josie, in case we’re talking about quarter horses. She seems to know more about them than Frankie does.”
Tony was soon eating a French dip, Eddie a Reuben. Louis was polishing a glass nearby in case Tony had more questions and more hundreds. He didn’t have long to wait as Eddie held up his empty glass.
“I only have a few more bennies left,” Tony said. “Can you answer a few more questions.”
“Hit me with them,” Louis said, holding out his hand.
“You know Bruno Baresi?”
Louis nodded. “In here most every night.”
“You think it was him that killed Contrado?”
Louis twisted his mustache as he shook his head. “He didn’t do it.”
“How do you know that?” Eddie asked.
“Couldn’t have done it because it was one of the rare nights he wasn’t here.”
“The police report says Contrado was killed with Baresi’s pistol. How do you explain that?”
“Police must have got it when they arrested
him. They didn’t find it here.”
“Sure about that?” Tony asked.
“Like I said, Mr. Baresi was someplace else.”
“You seem pretty sure about that. How do you know?”
“Because he was with his girlfriend, my sister Donna. They were on a sailboat out on Pontchartrain.”
“If he has an alibi, then why is he still in jail?” Eddie asked.
“Bruno’s old lady. She don’t know he’s got a girlfriend. He’s more afraid of her than going to prison.”
“How do you know that?” Tony asked.
“Like I said, he’s been going with my sister Donna for more than a year now. He bought her a new Lincoln and an expensive condo over by the river. Not much I don’t know about Bruno, including his underwear size.”
“And his wife don’t know?” Tony asked.
“If she does, she hasn’t let on,” Louis said. “Bruno sure ain’t gonna tell her.”
“What about Lonzo Galvez, Anderson’s bodyguard. Was he here?”
“He’s never far away from Mr. Anderson. He usually waits in the kitchen. The cook and the girls feed him, and I take him drinks.”
“Did he leave with Anderson?” Tony asked.
“Always does,” Louis said. “He don’t ever get too far away from his boss.”
Tony handed him another hundred. “Bring us one more round and then clear our tab,” he said. “We gotta get outa here.” Louis was walking away when he added, “And add a fresh bottle of Monkey Shoulder to the tab. We’ll take it with us.”
***
Eddie had closed his eyes as soon as his rear end touched the front seat of Tony’s Mustang. They were halfway across the Causeway before he opened them again. The fog was rising up off the water and starting to pour over the road.
“Sorry,” Eddie said. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until I closed my eyes.”
Tony didn’t take his eyes off the narrow road in front of them. “Been a long day already, and barely even ten yet.”
“And we still need to talk with Frankie and Josie when we get back to the farm. Hope I don’t fall asleep while we’re getting the third degree.”
“Or in bed with that pretty daughter of his.”
Eddie laughed. “Not much chance of that. Like I said, she told me last night she doesn’t believe in sex outside of marriage.”
“That can’t be good for you,” Tony said. “You don’t believe in sex inside of marriage.”
“Funny. I believe in marriage. I’m just not ready for it yet. Maybe I’ll be when I’m forty-something.”
“By then, your hair will be thinning and your gut thickening. Young, pretty women won’t give you a second look. Just something to think about.”
“Whatever,” Eddie said. “If I married Josie, I’d probably have to quit my job. Too much of a conflict of interest.”
“If you marry Josie, you won’t need your job. Frankie will see you, and her have everything you ever need.”
“I hope you don’t run out of hundreds. No wonder you’re such a crack investigator,” Eddie said.
“Like I told you earlier, Frankie gives me a big retainer whenever I start a new job for him. I convert about two grand of it into hundreds. Money buys everything, Frankie says. Tell me if you need more. Just don’t let a nickel hold up a dollar.”
“Be nice if all clients were like that,” Eddie said.
“Most of them are. They hire me because I get them results. That’s the bottom line.”
“And Frankie?”
“My best client. If I’d had an endless supply of bennies when I was a homicide detective, I could have solved the city’s murder problem for them.”
“I feel your pain,” Eddie said. “What now?”
“We did good today, and I’m pretty sure we got most of the puzzle pieces covered. Right now, we just don’t know how they all fit.”
“At least one piece is still missing.”
“Which one?” Tony asked.
“If Anderson had Contrado killed because of a horse, how does that little tidbit of information jibe with our investigation?”
“Was wondering about that myself. Maybe they were arguing about Lightning Bolt,” Tony said.
Eddie shook his head. “Not according to Louis. He said it was over a horse Contrado had sold to Anderson. That precludes the possibility that they were talking about Lightning Bolt.”
“We both know that the big stallion is somehow involved,” Tony said.
“And that whoever killed Contrado has obviously paid off the police,” Eddie said.
“Anderson is the mayor’s first cousin. Who better to orchestrate a cover-up?”
“And use his media empire to skew the news to confuse the public and the police as to what’s really happening. I think we have our killer. Baresi’s just the fall guy.”
Tony nodded. “Frankie’s lawyers will get Bruno off the hook, though it sounds like he won’t have such an easy time explaining to his old lady about his girlfriend.”
“Something else we don’t have an answer to,” Eddie said.
“Only one?”
“Let’s just say for giggles and grins that Anderson did steal Lightning Bolt. What does he intend to do with him? He can’t race him, and he doesn’t seem like the sentimental type.”
“He can’t breed him, either,” Tony said. “Unless he plans to use him to fill in for another horse.”
“Not likely. He couldn’t get the kind of stud fee a horse of Lightning Bolt’s caliber would command, even if there weren't the matter of DNA. I also doubt he has a grandson to give him to.”
It was too cool for the air conditioner and too hot for the heater. Humidity was high both outside and inside the car. Tony flipped on the defroster and turned up the fan to clear the haze on the inside of the window.
“Anderson has wanted Lightning Bolt since he was a foal,” he said. “Maybe bad enough to kill for him.”
“Not his style,” Eddie said. “We know his motive for killing Contrado could have been his horse sale gone bad.”
“And he was pissed at Frankie for fixing a race he thought he’d already fixed.”
“But why did he steal Lightning Bolt?” Eddie said.
By now, visibility on the Causeway was greatly reduced. Tony adjusted the brightness of his fog lights and slowed the car to a crawl.
“Guess that’s the sixty-four dollar question,” he said.
Chapter 30
No one was asleep, not even Jojo, when they reached Frankie’s horse farm. Not only was everyone still awake, but they were also waiting in a group on the front porch. When Eddie stepped out of the car, Jojo ran over and hugged him. Eddie ruffled his dark mop of hair.
“How you doing, Tiger?” he said. “Don’t you think it’s a little past your bedtime?”
“Mama and Papaw said I could stay up till you got home.”
Eddie squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “I’m glad you did.”
Josie was right behind Jojo, smiling as she gave Eddie a sensual kiss. Almost too sensual. He glanced at Adele and Frankie to gauge their reaction, surprised to see that they were both smiling.
He, Josie and JoJo strolled to the porch, arm-in-arm. When they reached it, Josie gave Jojo’s bottom a friendly swat.
“Eddie’s home now and it’s bedtime for you,” she said.
“Goodnight, Eddie,” Jojo said with a wave as he followed his mother into the house.
Frankie continued to smile as he glanced at his expensive gold Rolex.
“I was beginning to wonder if you two were going to make it back tonight. I came close to sending out some boys to look for you. Everything okay?”
After Lil and Tony had exchanged a kiss and hug, Tony handed the bottle of Monkey Shoulder, wrapped in a brown paper bag, to Frankie.
“Everything’s fine. Eddie and I brought you something,” he said.
“What is it?” Frankie asked as he pulled the bottle out of the bag.
“Some damn good sc
otch,” Tony said. “How you doing, Adele?”
Like Frankie and Lil, Adele had a drink in her hand. It didn’t stop her from hugging both Tony and Eddie.
“Great. Are you two hungry?”
Sensing Adele had cooked up something especially for them, Tony didn’t tell her about the sandwiches they’d eaten at Pinky’s.
“I can always find room for anything you cook. You know that, Adele. Whatcha got?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs. Pancho’s secret recipe,” she said. “Haven’t made it in a while and Frankie’s been after me to do it.”
“Thank you, Adele, and thank you, Frankie,” Tony said.
“How about you, Eddie?” Adele asked. “You hungry?”
“You kidding? I’m always ready for the best Italian spaghetti and meatballs in New Orleans,” he said.
“Great,” Adele said.
“If I could find a woman that cooks like you, I’d have been married years ago. You know what they say; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Adele’s smile quickly disappeared, and so did Frankie’s.
“Good. It’s waiting on the stove,” Adele said before he had a chance to ask if he’d said something wrong.
Tony also noticed the reaction to Eddie’s comment and tried to bail him out.
“I’m betting Josie can cook with the best of them,” he said.
“Adele’s giving her a few lessons,” Frankie said.
“Hey, there’s more to a good relationship than just good cooking,” Eddie said.
“That’s a fact,” Frankie said, slapping his shoulder as his smile returned.
Eddie wondered about Frankie and Adele’s reaction at the mention of cooking. He forgot about it when they entered the ranch-style kitchen and smelled the wonderful aroma of Adele’s famous spaghetti sauce.
Josie joined them, returning from Jojo’s bedroom. Wrapping an arm around Eddie’s waist, she gave him another hug and kiss. As before, Adele and Frankie just kept smiling.
“The girls opened two bottles of Chianti. Myself, I want to try this scotch with the weird name,” Frankie said.
Adele punched his arm. “I already know you’re going to have some of both,” she said. “You always do.”
“You know me too well, don’t you?” he said. “Maybe that’s why I love you so much.”
