4 DEAD ... If Only

by Heather Haven

“Yes,” he went on smoothly. “Both cats were sitting on the table under the umbrella near your pool. They were out of the rain, watching the passing people. However, even though it is a private pool --”

  “Tugger and Baba were outside the room by the pool?” My voice rose in pitch and was so filled with alarm, both Richard and Tío looked back at me in concern. “Oh my God! How did they get out? Where are they now?”

  “Please, Miss Alvarez, calm yourself. Everything is fine.” The manager made soothing clucking sounds. “My staff and I gathered up your pets. It was quite easy. They are very sweet docile cats, and we returned them to your room. They weren’t even wet.”

  “How did they get out?” I asked again, my voice riddled with fear. “And you’re sure they’re okay?”

  “They are, Miss Alvarez. I have a cat, myself. As to how they escaped, Miriam, she’s your housekeeper, shut a window next to the patio-pool area when she went in to clean. You should check all the windows before you vacate, Miss Alvarez, to prevent this in the future. Miriam also collected the clothing from the floor, folded it, and put it in the drawers. Miss Alvarez, are you still there?”

  He’d asked the last question because I had been momentarily rendered speechless.

  “I’ll be right there.” I hung up and smacked Richard on the back of the head. “Richard! Turn around immediately and drive with the same breakneck speed to my hotel. Somebody broke into the room.”

  * * * *

  We arrived at the hotel about ten minutes later. I jumped out of Richard’s car, streaked through the lobby like a madwoman, followed by Tío. I’m supposing Richard drove on to the lab with the plastic bag full of documents I saved from the fire. Frankly, I never gave it a second thought.

  I opened the door to the room with a shaky hand, only to observe a tranquil scene, the first one of the day. Tugger and Baba were curled up in a yin and yang position on the made-up bed, both sound asleep. I rushed to them, calling out. Tugger opened one eye but didn’t move. Baba opened both eyes, stretched languorously, and smelled my outstretched hand only to resume her previous position once more. I guess the Tugger-and-Baba-Great-Outdoor-Adventure wore them out. I picked one sleeping cat up then the other, examining them but holding them away from me to keep them from getting dirty or wet.

  “You see, mi sobrina, they are fine.” Tío came to my side, stroking them after I set them down again on the bed.

  “I guess they are, Tío, but who let them out? And is anything missing?”

  I pilfered through my clothes, now neatly folded and put back in place by the housekeeper. Yup, the same silly stuff I’d bought for Napa still lived inside. Too bad they weren’t gone. I opened Gurn’s drawers. All his clothes were there, as well. Strangely, my silver and onyx earrings, worth a couple of hundred bucks, were still on the tray near the ice bucket, where I’d thrown them the night before.

  I went over in my mind any papers I might have left around that would be of interest to someone. Outside of the receipt for the rental car, there would be nothing. Then I went to the safe in the closet. It looked secured. There were no scratches, no chips, no tale-tell sign of forced entry, nada. It’s fairly easy to get into a room but harder to break into one of these safes. I punched in the combination to make sure everything was still inside.

  Gurn’s revolver and two boxes of cartridges lay undisturbed. My Bulgari earrings, turquoise, coral, and pearls set in platinum, sparkled back at me. I didn’t want to think about what they were worth; it gave me the willies. If I’d lost them, Mom would have had my head. She’s always for leaving expensive jewelry in the home safe, but I say, what’s the point of having it if you never wear it? I closed the safe, let out a sigh of relief then sneezed.

  “Liana, you must take first the shower then lie down and rest. Or you will get sick. I can tell.”

  Tío is the only person in the world who can call me Liana and not have it bother me. I smiled at him, nodded, and grabbed one of the spa robes from the closet. Truth be told, I was going on fumes at this point and did feel peculiar.

  “You bring with you the vitamin C? If not, there is a farmacia on the corner. I will go there.”

  “No need to go to the pharmacy, Tío. I have plenty of vitamin C. It’s on the nightstand. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I closed the door, stripped, and found the crumpled paper of email addresses in the pocket of my pants. I tossed it on the bathroom counter and threw my clothes in the trash along with the soggy sandals.

  It took nearly a bottle of crème rinse to get the twigs out of my hair, but by gawd, I did it. Then I had to scrub blue stain off my toes and the soles of my feet. All told, I stayed in the shower for forty-five minutes, a record for me. I’m from the in and out school of thought, especially with the frequent droughts we have in California.

  Squeaky clean, wrapped in the robe, wet hair in towel, I joined Tío. In my absence, he’d folded down the bed linens, and lined up five one thousand unit capsules of vitamin C in a row, next to a glass of water on the nightstand. On another table sat a tray with a tea setup, steam rising from the lip of the teapot.

  “You called room service. Thank you so much, Tío.” I stood next to the bed and watched him pour me a cup of tea.

  “Si, si. Now you go to bed and sleep. A small siesta. The world will not end if you rest. I will go back to the hospital.” He placed the cup and saucer on the nightstand.

  “Do you want to take our rental car, Tío? It’s down in the parking lot. I can pick it up at the hospital later, when Gurn and I go there. We’ll take a cab.” Tío is over seventy years old now, a fact I often push out of my mind. But he is. Salt and pepper hair and eyebrows are a constant reminder.

  “No, I have the taxi coming.”

  I got in bed and Tío rearranged the covers around me before kissing me on the forehead.

  “Drink the tea and take the vitamin C every hour on the hour for five hours. Then twice a day. You do as I say, mi sobrina, and maybe we nip the cold back.” He shook his finger in my face.

  I laughed. “It’s nip it in the bud, Tío. And don’t worry, I’ll behave. A nap right now sounds wonderful.”

  I reached up to him. He bent over and we went into a big bear hug. Everyone should have a Tío in their life. Wait a minute, I already said that. But it’s well worth repeating.

  Tío left and I lay there for several minutes, trying not to freak out over the fact someone broke into the room, searched through everything I owned, and deliberately opened the window to let the cats out. I was lucky whoever broke in hadn’t hurt Tugger and Baba. It made me feel vulnerable, violated, and angry.

  I got up and took Lady Blue from my fanny pack and shoved it under my pillow. Mama Biggs’ warning reverberated in my ears over and over. Maybe I could coerce Tío into returning to the Bay Area with the cats, just to relieve my mind. This was going to get ugly. The people I loved and my pets were a way to get to me. Anybody who knew me knew that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On The Move, PI Style

  The sound of someone coming through the door into the darkened room awakened me. I was reaching under the pillow for Lady Blue when I heard Gurn’s voice, doing a not too bad imitation of Ricky Ricardo in I Love Lucy, complete with the heavy Cuban accent.

  “Lucy, I’m home.”

  He turned on the hall light and stood there, all six foot one of him, smiling his lopsided smile. I pulled my hand out from under the pillow and switched on the nightstand light. He threw a plastic garment bag thick with clothes onto the foot of the bed. I looked up at him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  “Hi there. Welcome back. What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty, Saturday afternoon. How’s my girl?”

  I almost answered but realized he was talking to Baba. He picked her up, cuddled her for a moment, and dropped her back on the bed. Then he roughed up Tugger’s neck fur in a very manly way. They both seemed to enjoy it. Another guy thing.

  He finally paid attention to me, third in lin
e as it were, as I propped myself up on pillows. He bent over and we went into a kiss. Gurn straightened up and studied me. “You don’t look too bad, considering the day you’ve had.”

  “You know about that? Who told you?”

  “Spoke to Rich. He gave me a blow by blow. He’s going through the papers now --”

  “They’re dry already?”

  “Hey, modern technology. Chemicals and ultra violet light. And word has it you’ve been passed out for about three hours.”

  I looked at the bedside clock. “Wow! Three hours and fifteen minutes.”

  “And a lot can happen in that time. Especially in the Alvarez Family.”

  He let out a hoot of laugher and so did I. More serious, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand. “Sweetheart, I think we should move from this hotel. Somebody knows we’re staying here and I don’t like that.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “I’ve got a line on a safe house. One of my FBI buddies offered it to me when I was in D.C. It’s nearby, a few doors down from Preservation Hall.”

  “In the French Quarter? You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope. Safest place to be, among hundreds of frolicking, happy-go-lucky people.”

  “Did you just say ‘frolicking, happy-go-luck people’? First Desi Arnez and then P.G. Wodehouse. You’re sounding more like me every day.”

  “Well, maybe there’s a pill for it. So get up, let’s pack, and get going. Your mother’s at the hospital with Vicki, who’s being released in about an hour. We can unload the cats at our new digs and meet the family at the hospital. What do you say?”

  “I say get off the bed, so I can stand up.” He did and I did. “What’s in the garment bag? A new suit?”

  “I don’t know. It’s from your mother. It was waiting downstairs at the concierge. She told them not to wake you with it.”

  I dashed to the foot of the bed, opened the card pinned to the neck of the hanger, and read it aloud.

  Liana - I know you didn’t have time to bring clothes suitable for either New Orleans or the tasks at hand. These are from a shop near Victoria’s. A beginning designer, but one with promise. I think you will like the selections I made. Consider it an early birthday present. Love, Mom

  “Awwww. This is so sweet. I’m touched.” I looked over at Gurn with glistening eyes. “Richard or Tío must have blabbed on me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it was the gladiator shoes that tipped the scales. Anyway, she knows my size, but I can only hope she didn’t pick something out in her favorite shades of tan, beige and grey. I hate those colors.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  I unzipped the bag and pulled out a to-die-for turquoise pantsuit in shantung silk, jacket and slacks, with a paisley-patterned lime green and turquoise spaghetti strap blouse. It was gorgeous and my Bulgari earrings would set it off perfectly. Behind the suit hung a cotton knit dress, the color somewhere between teal and turquoise. Scoop necked, cap sleeves, and triangular insets of fabric started mid-thigh, giving it a lot of flounce at the hemline. In short, adorable and very me. Behind that hung a pair of navy-blue pull-on pants with matching sweater, and three sleeveless knit blouses, hot pink, powder blue, and lavender, all in summery cotton fabrics. At the bottom of the bag was a pair of ballerina flats in navy patent leather and a fuchsia folding umbrella. She done good.

  “What’s the weather like outside? Has it cleared up or should I carry this umbrella?” I looked over Gurn wearing a lightweight all-weather jacket.

  “I’d bring it along, if I was you. There’s a high-pressure area in a holding pattern off the Gulf. It might rain on and off for a couple of days; it might not. It could also go away or get worse.”

  “Well, you certainly covered your arse with that weather report. The only thing left out was snow.”

  “Slight chance of snow.”

  I laughed and threw on the hot pink blouse, navy pants and shoes then crammed the little umbrella into my bag. You gotta love these folding umbrellas; so convenient.

  After we packed up, we decided not to officially check out. Staying registered at the hotel was a great smoke screen. Gurn brought the car around the back. Laden down with the bags and cats, we had everything out of the room within twenty minutes.

  Driving in the heart of the French Quarter, especially during rush-hour traffic, is a slow process. Add to that the locals prepping for another Saints football game, and you had near chaos. As we neared Bourbon Street, we decided to find a parking place on a side street. Our destination of St. Peter Street was close by, maybe a six minute walk across Bourbon Street. With Gurn humping the cat carriers and me pulling the luggage on wheels, we made our way through ecstatic revelers celebrating the local team. This was my first time seeing this spectacle and I didn’t know where to look first.

  Shouts of joy came from every direction. The New Orleans official song “We Ready,” or fight songs from by-gone years happily competed with one another. Handmade banners and signs were bobbing up and down everywhere. The French fleur-de-lys and “Who dat?” signs were dominant, gold paint on a black background.

  Many of the carousing held hurricane lantern-shaped plastic containers, filled with one of NOLA’s favorite cocktails, The Hurricane. I hadn’t had one yet, but they are reported to be tall, tasty, and lethal.

  Hundreds of Mardi Gras beads were being tossed from either balconies above or at street level. I understand it’s a year round tradition, this tossing of beads, symbols of a fun time.

  Green, purple, and gold plastic beads dangled from not just people, but car antennas, lampposts, tree limbs, street signs, or littered the sidewalks and pavement. A few strands were flung at me by a couple of high-spirited men whooping it up on a second-floor balcony. The intricately designed black wrought iron railing they leaned on stood out against the brightly painted stucco exterior of the building. Draped in colorful, cascading flowers, it looked like so many in the French Quarter, reminiscent of the Caribbean, graceful, old world, and elegant.

  As tense as we were, I couldn’t help but pick up some of the spirit of the partygoers. I wrapped several strands of beads around my neck, laughing, and looked at Gurn. He was laughing, too, as he trudged along. I suspected neither Tugger nor Baba were laughing, but rather caterwauling, but I couldn’t hear either of them over the din.

  Minutes later we arrived at a quieter street just off Bourbon. The safe house was over a ground-level pizza shop with the two floors above looking like private residences. The third floor had one of those darling wrought iron balconies, but behind the balcony, floor to ceiling hurricane shutters were shut tight. Gurn set the carriers down on the sidewalk in front of a narrow door at the side of the building. He tapped in a sequence of numbers and opened the door that led to a hallway and a set of stairs going up.

  “It’s on the top floor, Lee.” He picked up the cats. “Real convenient. We can order pizza any time.”

  “Works for me.” I pulled the suitcase up the stairs, the echoing thud of the wheels filling the empty hallway.

  We arrived at the only apartment on the third floor, and the first thing I noticed was the door. Painted a dark brown, the shade almost hid the fact it wasn’t made of wood, but steel.

  The door had three locks, each one looking more serious than the next. Gurn inserted the first key. It slid open on well-tended tumblers. The second lock grumbled but seemed to work when Gurn jiggled the key a little. As the last key turned, the grating sound of metal against metal moved on the other side of the door. Gurn pushed it halfway open, where the door stuck.

  We slipped inside sideways to find a thick, iron rod set almost at a forty-five degree angle propped up against the inside of the door. The bottom of the rod fit into a small steel pocket recessed in the middle of the floor of the narrow hallway. The top end dropped into the lock and moved sideways when you unlocked or locked the door. When unlocked, you can remove the rod completely, which Gurn did. He
leaned it against the wall and opened the door completely.

  “From inside, you put the rod in the lock and move it to the right. Whenever you exit, return the bottom end of it to its position in the floor, and place the top end back into the lock against the door.” Gurn did a fast demonstration. “Keying the bolt from the other side slides the rod into place. You’d have to knock down the wall before getting in with the iron door and iron rod locked in place.”

  “Wow! That’s clever. I’m mightily impressed with the FBI.”

  “Don’t look so awestruck, sweetheart. They borrowed the idea from Hell’s Kitchen in New York City. These were used there over a hundred years ago, and throughout the early part of the twentieth century. Probably in a lot of other high crime areas, too. Very effective.”

  We entered the small hallway, painted off-white. I left the suitcase there, my hand cramped from the pulling of it. A doorway off one end of the hall led to two bedrooms separated by a Jack and Jill bathroom.

  The other end of the hall brought you into the living room/dining room. Straight ahead was the kitchen. The small apartment was stripped of most things to make it homey, but the bones were charming. White birch floors, crown molding, and built-in cabinetry showed old-fashioned care and attention.

  “Let’s take care of the cats first.” Carriers in hand, Gurn led us into one of the small bedrooms. Other than two made-up single beds and a dresser drawer, the room was empty.

  I went to the lone window, popped up the shade, and looked out over rooftops. Below was a small courtyard from which a massive tree rose. A canopy of graceful, dark green feathery branches, still wet from recent rains and covered with hundreds of red-orange blossoms, glittered in random puffs of wind. Above streaks of gold ran through silver grey clouds quickly changing to the lavender hues of twilight.

  It was easy to understand why so many artists came to New Orleans. And I could see why Satchmo loved the city like no other. No matter where you looked, NOLA was filled with larger than life color and vibrancy. If you could capture it in any form, what a coup.