She cocked her large head, eyes calculating. “I’m waiting.”
“Well. The truth is there’s been a murder on the Northshore. I am helping with the investigation. “
“Who do you think did this murder?”
“Not sure as yet, eh? But–”
“You think Big Daddy Mr. Anton looks good for it.”
I felt shocked. “Well–”
“–Wouldn’t surprise me. You ever check out the so-called women’s shelter he’s the big philanthropist for?”
“He’s not the philanthropist for this shelter?”
“Not a bit of it. This is all Daisy’s.”
“There’s another so-called women’s shelter, Mrs. Johnson?”
She didn’t blink. Pursed her coral lipsticked mouth. Her eyes raked me up, down, across. “You ‘d have to be careful. Smart lady like you, though, maybe you could get in there and find out the truth.”
“Truth?”
“It’s on Chardonnay. In the Quarters. You know your way around here?”
“I’ve lived here for twenty years.”
She nodded. “Big dark purple place. Corner of Esplanade. Can’t miss it. You drop on by there. What you driving?”
“I have a Ford Tempo.”
“Uh-huh. What’s that?”
“Battered old green car. Compact.”
She frowned. “Not ‘spensive.”
“Not in the least.”
“Uh-huh. You better stay well out of sight. They prefer ‘spensive cars.”
“At a women’s shelter?”
“Wait’ll you see the kinda woman they’re shelterin’. At Mr. Anton’s place.”
I felt a mix of comprehension and horror. “You mean it’s a–”
She tightened her coral lips. “Num-um. I didn’t say anything.” She leaned closer. She had a faint rose fragrance.
“Only Mrs. Delon involved here, and we are the real thing.” The baby wailed as if to support this declaration. Again, the hushing. “With Mrs. Delon it ain’t always charity. Sometimes she’s here as a person needin’ shelter. Herself. This place is a big secret from Mr. Delon. Daisy must really trust you, send you over here.”
I let my eyes grow huge. How had I managed to gain such trust from that short interview? I felt grateful even though it was a mystery to me. “I see.” I didn’t. Gayle Johnson’s eyes grew also. They were the brown of Café du Monde double-dripped coffee before the au lait. Eyebrows raised, she nodded significantly at me and I nodded portentously back. Then we smiled.
“Now I will show you out, Mz Wiley. Nice of you to drop by.” At the door she paused and added. “You remember now. Big Daddy Delon don’t know about this place.” Her eyes warned me.
“I don’t know about this place, Mrs. Johnson.” She grinned, conspiratorially. We laughed. I knew instantly this was a woman that, in other circumstances, I could be friends with.
Soon I was back in the Tempo. I drove down Veteran’s Boulevard and got on I-10 East into New Orleans proper. Exited at Canal, backtracked to Chardonnay in the Quarter, down to Esplanade. Slowed. There it was. Three-story place. Throat-of-althea purple stucco. Posh. Also shuttered up, as though the occupants were out of town. As I motored past a second time, a tiny woman came out. She was dressed in a Chanel suit and carried a black patent purse on a gold chain. Her hair was sleekly back in a chignon and just before she slid on dark glasses I saw she was Asian. She paused at street level. Waited. A silver Cadillac pulled up. She stepped out in Manolo Blahnik-looking four-inch heels and got in the back seat. I U-turned around the grassy median, watching them in my rearview. Lulu’s tufted head rose up and blocked my view so I said, “Lu! Drop!” She lay down in time for me to see the Cadillac flash around a corner. I followed. The car went down to Canal then turned again. Soon it was passing through a brick archway into the Winston Esquire Hotel. The liveried doorman opened the door and the woman got out and went into the hotel. I turned in too. I waited behind the Cadillac. Huge copper urns spilled out blue lobelias and purple wave petunias. The Cadillac turned to leave, it passed an urn, and I saw a white man with a fat face and a thin ponytail at the wheel. I waved to the doorman I wasn’t staying, and I followed the Cadillac out. I mean, no one would expect a redhead in an old Tempo to be following, would they? I felt no danger.
The Cadillac retraced its route and when it pulled up in front of the building on Esplanade three beautiful women were waiting on the sidewalk, all of them as well turned out as participants in TV makeover shows. They got into the car. I followed again. This time one was dropped outside an elegant hotel at Esplanade and Decatur, another at the Hilton on the Mississippi River, the third at a bed and breakfast out on the lake by the Marina. The Cadillac drove back into the French Quarter and turned down an alley behind the purple building. It was one-way. Heavily parked. I edged in behind the Cadillac. It stopped and without thinking it through, I did too. Now what should I do? Had the pony-tailed guy even noticed the Tempo on his tail? I was edgy and nervous: following people wasn’t my style, nor was I any good at it. Suddenly, I felt hot air blast onto me. Cripes! My passenger door was open! I leaned down and peered toward the intruder. I saw a skinny bald man, his face like a skull, sweating in the June heat, pointing a gun at me. I went blank with panic. “Get out,” he snarled. Lulu, still prone in the back, softly growled. I felt more hot air rush into the car on my left. I whirled. The Cadillac’s pony-tailed driver stood there. He motioned at my nose with another black gun, silencer-elongated. I raised my hands, and said, “Gentlemen, what’s this all about?” My voice wasn’t shaking the way I was. The gun’s snout looked big as a cannon on an old sailing galleon.
“Shut up! Get out of the car!” said Ponytail.
Skull-face swore, and then said, “Out.” I swung one leg out very slowly, let one toe touch pavement. Lulu was stirring. Just as she rose up, Skull, not seeing her, shut the passenger door. Then he ran around the front of the car, I suppose, to assist Ponytail against mean ole me. I wasn’t moving fast enough. I could not bring myself to step out into the snouts of those guns. I prayed desperately for some freak intervention from the Universe. Then Ponytail slammed his fist into my temple. It hurt, and lights exploded before my eyes. I was groggy, not out, but my head fell forward. He leaned in and I felt his gun hand sliding behind my neck, probably to drag me out. Then, over my right shoulder, I saw a flash of big teeth. Lulu snarled and took a huge chomp on his gun arm. Poodles have teeth like wolves. He yelled. She held on as if she’d suddenly morphed into a pit-bull.
Only slightly stunned, I put the car in gear and accelerated around the Cadillac. The open door slammed into Ponytail as I whizzed past. It knocked him to his knees. He yelled as he went down. Skull was running alongside. The car zoomed down the narrow street, door banging, Lulu holding fast. Ponytail screamed as he was dragged along. When we reached the street, I braked and yelled, “Lulu! Drop it!” She held for a beat, large eyes begging me, please let me hold onto this arm! then unscissored her jaws and let go. I shoved my foot down on the gas, cranked the wheel hard left so the car jumped forward and squealed around on almost on two wheels. The gun fell from the man’s hand onto the seat; his bloodied arm slithered from around my neck and out the door. He fell on the pavement. I grabbed the door and slammed it shut, drove, then a block away, pulled over and stopped. I sat and breathed quickly for a few moments. I was trembling so badly I couldn’t grasp the steering wheel. I could see in my side mirror Ponytail was still crumbled on the street. Skull was nowhere in sight. After the blood resumed flowing to my brain, I speed-dialed a number. One ring and Tuan answered.
“Scott here.”
“Tuan, Bryn Wiley.”
“Say, stranger, what’s up?’
“What’s down, I think. I was just attacked in the French Quarter–”
“That’s not unusual–”
“–by two thugs, one driving a Cadillac. I think they are in the employ of Mr. Anton Delon. Do you know any law enforcement persons over here who could come and ta
ke care of this trash?” In the mirror, I saw Ponytail raise his head from the road. His face was very red and most likely he was also very angry.
“Quickly. My dog bit one of them and he–fell–on the pavement. Banged up a bit. Don’t know where the other one is but I don’t want to hang out here too long. They both have big guns. They pointed the guns at me. Lulu took a gun away from one of them. Big ugly object. On the seat here next to me.”
“Bryn! You need to get the hell out of there! I know who to call. Where are you?”
I gave him street names. “Lulu can go back and stand over him till the law arrives–”
“Don’t! Bryn. We don’t want you getting shot. I’m radioing right now.” But Ponytail was up on all fours. I was afraid he’d get up and disappear. I looked around. No sign of the other assailant. No traffic on this quiet side street, but more exposed, and thus safer, than the alley had been. Then I heard a distant siren. I felt rescued. Skull wouldn’t accost me with a gun out here on the street with the cops coming. I backed the Tempo up till I was parallel with the fallen driver. He lifted his head and bared his teeth at me. I lowered my window. Lulu was upright, alert, growling. I was debating whether to let her out to stand guard when the door behind me was tugged open and I experienced a sharp pain on my head, heard cacophonous barking of a dog, a shot and then, perfect blackness.
Chapter Twenty Four
May 26, 6:18 PM
I turned Count Amethyst and asked him to open up as he crossed my PVC-pipe dressage arena. On the diagonal, he escalated to a huge floating trot, and I whooped silently for joy. But then suddenly Keith Tolliver, the man with no lower legs was in the ring as well. He looked huge, frightening, his horse was trotting toward me–he grinned his handsome Superman’s grin as he flashed past me…but this was a dressage competition, unless it was a pas de deux, he must have come into the ring illegally–I kept riding, but I had faltered, the judge would catch it-–mark me down–my head was aching, someone was trying to lure me out of the ring, saying my name over and over–
“Bryn. Bryn.”
My eyes opened. Faint smell of starch. White mounds on either side of my head. A pillow. The dressage competition vanished, leaving me feeling reluctant to wake up–I wanted to finish my ride, beat that Tolliver guy–Arthur was leaning over me, calling my name.
“Arthur!” I sat up. Wished I hadn’t. The room blurred, my head ached as if it was on Arthur’s anvil and he was hammering on it.
He smiled at me. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself another concussion. You aren’t supposed to be asleep.”
“Can you crank this bed up somehow?” He found the button on the side of the bed and a motor hummed and slowly I rose. Arthur patted one of my hands. “Okay?” he asked.
“I’d be fine if you just stop hammering at my temples.”
“I’m not hammering–”
“I know. It just feels like it.”
I looked around. For sure, I was in a hospital and panic came over me. I flung the covers back. “Darn it, Arthur, I’ve gotta get out of here!”
He made pushing motions with his hands. “No. You need to get checked out again by the doctor. There’s tests–”
“Tests!? No! You don’t understand! I can’t afford this! I’m self-employed. No health insurance.” He stopped trying to stop me. I eased my legs over the side of the bed. I was in one of those string-tied-at-the-back hospital nighties. I pulled the covers over my bare thighs.
“Before you get up,” said Arthur, “there’s one thing.”
“What?”
He looked pale. “Your dog, Lulu.” The barking of a dog, the sound of a shot. Omigod. They’d shot my dog!
“Did they hit her?” Tears filled my eyes.
Arthur’s hand was out again. “Yes. But, she’s alive. In surgery.” For a disoriented moment I thought she was in surgery here, but realized that wasn’t possible.
“Where?” I asked.
“I remembered that her vet is Dr. Stoddard. She’s at his place. She got a bullet in the shoulder. They’re getting it out.”
Shoulders were close to hearts. “Will she live?”
“I sure hope so, Bryn.”
A figure appeared behind Arthur and Tuan came into the room. “Here you are,” he said.
“Hi, Tuan. They get those guys?”
He smiled, “Yep. Both of them. How are you?”
“If someone would just quit banging on my skull I’d be perfect. Of course, I’d be even better if I knew my dog was going to live.”
“She saved your life, Bryn. The New Orleans police got there seconds after she was shot which helps her chances for recovery. I sure hope she makes it.”
“She saved my life, twice, I think. “
I batted my eyes hard against tears that had returned. I needed to be at that vet’s praying hard for my dog’s life. I paused right then, closed my eyes and thought, Please God, let Lulu make it, please. Thank you for your help. I opened my eyes. Both men stood there looking concerned. On top of the headache I was filled with anxious adrenaline.
“This is nice chatting with y’all, gentlemen, but I have to get the hell out of this joint, right now.”
Arthur said, “Tuan, talk to her.”
“Why can’t you relax for a while, Bryn? Let them take care of you?”
“Tuan. No health insurance. I can’t afford this.”
“Oh,” he said.
“It’s only a concussion, right? I can sit under a bag of frozen veggies just fine at home. And for free.” I looked around at the nice hospital room, just me in it, walls painted a soothing lavender, saw dollar bills rushing like a herd of bats out the window.
“Actually, I’m surprised they let me in.”
“You had a police escort. That might have helped.”
“Oh. Thank you, Tuan.” I smiled at the men. It moved skin along the sides of my face and made the hammering escalate. “Ooooh,” I said. And my hands went up to my temples. “Damn!”
“Uh, Bryn? They are not one hundred percent sure if it just is a concussion. They X-rayed you to see if there’s any kind of skull fracture.” Arthur had spoken.
Skull fracture! No–that couldn’t be what the hammering was. I couldn’t afford a skull fracture. I scowled.
“How the hell do I get a nurse around here?”
“Grouchy, isn’t she,” said Tuan to Arthur. Arthur nodded solemn agreement.
I whined on. “And Arthur, when you woke me I was having a wonderful dream about competing in a dressage class–” Boy was I cranky! Blaming him for messing up a dream! I also remembered the dream was not wonderful, it was all screwed up by Superman on his horse, invading my ring time. As I was thinking all this, I scrabbled around till I found a button thingy attached to a cable. I pressed a red button.
“I’m calling for a nurse,” I told the men, “I want the status of my case.”
While we waited, Arthur picked up the phone on a table beside my bed. He dialed. “Hi. This is Arthur Svendquist. I brought in Bryn Wiley’s poodle. She’s in surgery?”
He nodded. I watched him, rigid with fear. Tears flooded my eyes again and this time they over-flowed the banks and ran in heavy rivulets down my face. I didn’t care. Arthur was nodding and nodding. I couldn’t stand it. I grabbed the receiver from him. Just that motion caused the room to blur and then ooze back to clarity.
“Excuse me? Hi–this is Bryn Wiley–it’s my dog–”
A man’s voice on the line. “–asleep, Arthur–Oh! Bryn. Hello there.” It was Dr. Stoddard.
“How is she, Doctor?”
“She’s out of surgery. The bullet grazed her shoulder, took off some flesh and some muscle. We cleaned her up and stitched her up. But she lost a lot of blood. I’d like to keep her overnight.”
“Keep her as long as you need to.” I did have health insurance for my dog and my horse. Much more affordable than human insurance. Would Lulu be okay? My brave, beautiful girl! The tears were still making tracks down my face. I hung
up the phone. “She’s needs to stay in the hospital for a while. But she’s alive. Arthur, thank you. Thank you for getting her to Dr. Stoddard!”
Arthur said, “Thank Tuan–he got her across the lake, called me, and I just took over from there. He stayed with you, followed the ambulance here.”
For a woman alone, I wasn’t all that alone.
“Thanks to both of you, how can I ever–”
A nurse walked in. He was short and muscular and wore navy blue scrubs. “Ms. Wiley, you’re sitting up!”
“Hi. You’re a nurse, right?”
“Good guess.” He grinned at me. “And I have good news. No skull fracture. Just a concussion. But the doctor would like you to spend the night for observation.”
“Nope. If you will shoo these guys out of here I will get dressed and maybe one of them can get me home–gosh! Tuan! Where’s the Tempo?”
“Back in New Orleans.”
Arthur spoke. “I have some business there tomorrow. If you’re well enough I can drive you over and drop you at your car.”
“Okay, thanks. Can you drive me home now?”
“I could manage. If they’ll let you–”
“Thanks, and they can’t stop me. So please go away. For a minute. Let me get dressed.”
The nurse said, “Ms. Wiley, you need to stay overnight–”
“Are you going to pay my bill?”
“Why no–”
“Then please leave the room and let me get dressed. Please get whatever papers are needed for me to check out.”
He held my eye for an instant, saw my determination, then swung around and left the room. Arthur and Tuan trailed after him. Gingerly, I lowered my bare feet to the cool floor. Holding onto everything I could lay a hand on, I slowly pulled my clothes on.
Chapter Twenty Five
May 27, 7:10 A.M.
I was tottering out to the barn to feed Amethyst the next morning when the phone rang.
Too early to talk to people. I hadn’t had my coffee or my Tao. And I definitely needed more time under a bag of frozen veggies. I still abruptly lost focus then suddenly regained it. So, I ignored the ringing. I was lifting hay into Am’s feeder when I heard a car crunch into my front yard. I dusted my hands. Am had a full bucket of fresh water and his nose was deep in his ration of sweet feed. He was fine for hours. Moving as carefully as if I had a five-gallon water jug on my head I left the stable and walked around to the front yard. Simon Asprey was getting out of his gray Mazda. He had a cell phone in one hand and a briefcase in the other. Not seeing me come toward him from the rear, he headed to my front door.
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