The Girl on Prytania Street

by Kira Saito

  “Hmmmm…” I could see hesitation cloud Mr. Dubois’ dark eyes. “I hope these little incidences don’t impact our expansion plans. It would be a shame if we weren’t able to open up a New Orleans style restaurant in New York.”

  Anita gave me a subtle nudge and I was forced back on my toes again. “You have nothing to worry about. The strings are about to be legally cut, which is why we are here. Kate isn’t a threat to anyone but herself.”

  “I can recommend doctors who can help her if you need.” His gaze was firm and full of concern. “Emilia has had episodes where she was on the verge of losing her mind. I suppose it comes down to the pressures of wealth and power. However, I’ve always managed to get her help. Keep her out of harm’s way and out of the way of the various businesses I have worked so hard to build.”

  My muscles tightened and I could feel the alcohol rise to my cheeks. I hardly ever drank. It was typically a trap set to loosen the lips of the drinker. “I don’t think that’s necessary. She hasn’t done anything to sabotage our expansion plans. She’s already living in her own personal hell.”

  “I see. It seems like you’re harboring a soft spot for your old flame,” he said teasingly as he eyed my half-empty glass. If I stopped drinking now, he would catch on to my paranoia. I took another giant gulp.

  “A wise man once told me that life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. My life now revolves around this gorgeous creature and my little angel, Sara.”

  Mr. Dubois placed his champagne glass back on the silver tray and started to clap dramatically. “Now, that’s the spirit old chap.” He gave me a powerful tap on my back. “Anita, you have landed quite the partner. I was skeptical at first, but now I see that your decision-making skills are laser sharp.”

  Anita beamed at me proudly and I felt like a billion bucks. If only my mom and Kate could see me now. They would be proud, but it was too late for them. “Can you show me and this lovely lady to our room?” I gave him a small wink and pulled out my alpha male game. The big dogs hid it well, but they were still impressed by the alpha male game.

  “David, can you please show my guests to their room,” he called over a butler dressed in a black tuxedo. He would have put Cindy to shame. This was what I wanted. It was the next level.

  “Thank you, darling.” Anita gave Reggie two quick pecks on each cheek and we followed David up the gigantic white marble staircase. I was silent and made sure that my face held a neutral expression as we ascended the stairs. Yeah, the wealth was overwhelming, and I knew that this Mr. Dubois character was most likely a hundred times more loaded than Anita and that is why I had to be on my best behavior. I took a quick glance at Anita; her expression was equally as neutral. I grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her close. You had to make these moves. Like David, even the walls had eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Kate

  I paced across my room. The mess I had made had been cleaned up, swept under the rug like so many of my other mistakes. The mirror had been replaced and a new antique vase sat in place of the one I had smashed. I took it as a sign of good faith on the part of Madame Queenie, a test of some sorts to see if I would repeat the same stupid mistake again. Rationally, I knew that this had to change. I couldn’t let others keep cleaning up my mistakes. I looked out the window vigilantly watching the Dubois mansion for any signs of Anita and Richard or my bearded stalker. The thought of walking into that party knowing that I would have to face him and her was more than enough to send me into overdrive.

  I had popped two and a half pills as I rehearsed my part for the night. I was Mrs. Williams, a happily married investment banker from upstate New York. My husband was an accountant and we had just gotten back from a holiday in Ireland. I Googled Ireland and memorized a list of things that I should have seen according to Trip Advisor. I struggled to remember a list of museums, theatres, and parks. Of course, I could ramble on about Oscar Wilde all night. I practiced my most charming smile and tossed my head back while I laughed. I practiced how I would slowly sip on my drink and appear to be normal, happy, and functional. My phone buzzed. A text from Richard appeared.

  Kate, where are you? Look, I’m going to be in town for the next couple of days on business. If you tell me where your hotel is, I’ll come by with the divorce papers.

  I numbed my anger with another pill. He thought he was so important and his time was so valuable. I tapped off a text which I hoped sounded light and free of all of the angst that I was feeling.

  Sure, I would love to sign those papers. However, I am busy with the Dubois case. I won’t be in tonight. How about brunch tomorrow?I was proud of myself for thinking of brunch, I had read somewhere that brunch in New Orleans was legendary. It’s what a normal person would have done while in the city.

  Brunch sounds good. Where?

  Shit. Now I had to pick a place and time. I’ll let you know tomorrow. I shut off my phone. I didn’t want to see his response, the inevitable, I want to know now.

  “Kate, are you in there?” Madame Queenie asked from the other side of the door. “I have your costume. The ball is about to begin. You two better get a move on it.”

  I glanced in the mirror and took a deep breath. I could do this. I would do this for Charlene and Zoe. I opened the door and gave her a polite smile. “Hi. Come in.”

  “You’re looking much better than you were earlier today.” She gave me a bright smile as she placed a plastic bag on my bed.

  “I’m trying to take your advice.” It was a lie mixed with some semblance of truth. The drugs had made me fuzzy, warm, and invincible.

  “That’s the spirit. I thought that you might like to know that Detective Ryan has decided to spend a few days at the inn.”

  That wasn’t a good sign. He probably had more evidence, evidence that I had in fact committed the crimes that I somehow forgot to have committed. Would he ever believe me about Nigel? Or would he look the other way like so many others had? If I couldn’t trust the police, who could I trust? “Did he say anything about me?” I asked.

  “No, he didn’t mention the case only that he found the city to be charming and could use a vacation.”

  “Convenient.”

  “That’s what I thought. Whatever his reasoning is, you don’t have time for that right now. You have to get dressed. Chris is already waiting for you downstairs.”

  “What am I going as?” I asked eyeing the plastic bag.

  Madame Queenie pulled out a gorgeous white gown with giant angel wings and a sparkly mask that would conceal two-thirds of my face. “You are going as Juliet as Baz Luhrmann envisioned her.”

  “Really?” I fingered the angel wings. “You couldn’t think of anything more creative than this? Let me guess, Chris is my knight in shining armor Romeo.”

  “For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo. If you can channel all of your sadness into this character tonight, you’ll be the most successful Juliet to ever grace the land plus Romeo and Juliet is one of Mr. Dubois’ favorite plays. I’m sure he’ll notice such a tragic Juliet and give her more attention than say a carrot.”

  “A carrot?”

  “You’ll be surprised at some of the costumes that wealth and poor taste can dream up.”

  “Well, if I want to be a convincing Juliet, I better get to it.”

  She gave me a small wink. “Good luck, Kate.”

  I put on the costume and took out the emergency kit. After a few minutes of caking on products and running a brush through my hair, I came to life. My blue eyes sparkled through the mask and the gown fit me perfectly hugging me in all of the right places and accentuating curves that were barely there. I resisted taking another pill. Instead, I took a swig of whiskey from the bottle that sat in the mini bar and prepared myself for the show. I made my way to the salon where I found a knight in shining armor waiting for me. A giant metal mask obscured his face, but his accent was a dead giveaway. “Damn, sugar, you clean up real nice.”


  “We’re supposed to be in character, remember? It’s Juliet, and when I’m not Juliet, I’m Jennie Williams, and when you’re not Romeo, you’re Tom Williams.”

  “Jennie, I’ve managed to finish the books for Wigs and Bottom for the past year, they’re in the red. They’re in the red! How’s that for a Yankee accent?”

  “Seriously, who uses the word Yankee anymore?”

  He extended his arm and we headed towards the secret back door that Madame Queenie had instructed us to use. “The last time I checked, it was a free country and I could use whatever terms I wanted to use. Besides, there is nothing wrong with being a Yankee.”

  We walked towards the Dubois mansion which was still surrounded by reporters desperate to weasel their way into the biggest bash of the year. To think, I could have been one of those unlucky ones standing out there on that pavement, maybe someone was watching out for me after all. Limos lined the entire street and costumed partygoers were ushered through the cast iron fence and through the manicured hedges to the back of the mansion by beefy bodyguards. Up close, the massive house with its sophisticated blend of Greek Revival and Italianate styles was even more beautiful than I had imagined it to be.

  A pale bodyguard dressed in a dark suit and glasses asked for our invitations. “Here you go, sir,” Chris said playing the part of impressed Yankee to the T. The bodyguard nodded and then proceeded to pat us down checking for weapons and cameras, after he was satisfied that we were clean, we followed him through the tall hedges and to the back of the house.

  “I’m going to buy me one of these.” Chris let out a low whistle.

  “Wow. I would absolutely love that, honey,” I said getting into character. “Imagine raising our brood in a place like this.” The outdoor grounds were spectacular with their lush pomegranate trees, crepe myrtle trees in full bloom, endless arches of live oaks decorated with a thousand twinkling lights, camellia, cape jasmine, palms, and melancholy statues amidst fountains overflowing with water and champagne. It was a hedonistic playground full of partygoers ready to enjoy life at its finest. The party was in full swing, musicians dressed in Venetian masks played traditional Renaissance music on harps, flues, and trumpets while drunken guests danced and mingled with one another shouting over the music to hear their own clever comments. It was impossible to tell who was who and if Mr. Dubois had made his appearance at all. I scanned the lawn for Anita and Richard, but they seemed to be missing in action.

  “Well, Jennie, where do you think your cousin in law is?” Chris took a flute of champagne off of a tray and pretended to sip it.

  “There,” I said. My eyes lasered in on Mr. Dubois who wore a luxurious white tuxedo with golden cufflinks. He carried a customized walking stick and sipped on a flute of champagne. Even though his eyes were masked, I recognized the unique shape of his lips and his smile. I had done some of my homework.

  “How do you know it’s him?”

  “Of course the richest man in the room would choose to dress as The Great Gatsby. The suit is an exact replica from the 2013 film. Plus that smile and those George Clooney baby browns are a dead giveaway.”

  “It sounds like you have a crush. Those baby browns,” Chris teased.

  “Hardly, I’m a writer. We’re a descriptive breed.”

  “Then, let’s go say hi.”

  “We can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “We don’t have a plan.”

  “Like accidentally spill a drink on him or something?”

  “Kind of,” I said.

  “That’s amateur hour. Come on. If we don’t do this now, we never will. We’ve got one shot that’s all. Put on your best A game.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards Mr. Dubois. I was high enough not to be an anxiety-ridden mess but lucid enough to remember the words that I was saying and hearing. I had to keep it that way or I would blow everything.

  “Reginald, we’re thrilled as two hot dogs at a Yankees game that you invited us to your annual soirée,” Chris said through his mask.

  Mr. Dubois stopped mid-conversation and shot Chris a confused glance.

  “Excuse me, young man, but do I know you?”

  “Know me? Know me? We’re family, Reggie. I’m Tom, Tom Williams.” He grabbed Mr. Dubois’ hand and gave it a shake.

  “Williams?”

  “Yes,” I chimed in. “I’m Jennie, Emilia’s cousin from New York. We’ve never met as my schedule has always prevented me from paying her a visit. I apologize that our paths have not crossed since today.”

  “Aww, yes, the cousin from up North, Emilia has told me all about you. You share the same eyes.”

  “We do?” I asked quickly covering my confusion, “Emilia always says that, but I think she’s being modest. She is so much prettier than me.” Confidence surged through me as Mr. Dubois gave me the look. I knew that look, it was the same look that Nigel had often given me. The role I had to play became clear.

  “You’re equally as stunning if not more.” He gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. “I have never seen a more ravishing Juliet in all of my days.”

  “And you’re even more charming in person. Emilia’s descriptions don’t do you enough justice. I can’t express how sorry we are over the disappearance of your daughter. We don’t have any children of our own yet, but I can imagine what it must feel like.” I gently grazed his forearm and gave Chris a quick glance. Chris gave me a tiny wink. He knew the role he had to play as well.

  “This is quite the set up you’ve got here, Reggie. How much does a place like this go for? The Mrs. and I are always talking about retiring down South after we’re both old and wrinkly.”

  “Oh, Tom, stop it, it isn’t polite to ask such personal questions. Can’t you see that the man is in mourning? The last thing he probably wants to do is discuss property prices.” My hand went back to Mr. Dubois’ forearm. I stroked it lightly with my thumb and looked deep into his eyes. “Please do excuse my silly husband. He is always asking such inappropriate questions. Obviously, he’s not fit to play the part of Romeo. I practically forced him into that costume. He’s not much of a reader; he’s more of a numbers man.”

  Mr. Dubois’ eyes sparkled at the fact that I was putting my husband down in front of him. I had been around Nigel long enough to know that the most powerful people got an extra thrill from being reminded how great they were next to mere mortals. “It’s not a problem at all. Few men are blessed in both the arts and sciences. Besides, it’s a relief to discuss something, anything that doesn’t involve this depressing situation.”

  “Does that mean we can get a tour of the property?” asked Chris. “My buddies are going to be so jealous.”

  “Tom! Stop it!” I pretended to be outraged. “I swear.”

  Mr. Dubois’ eyes sparkled some more. He lightly grazed my lower back with his hand. “I don’t see the problem in a private tour, if you’re interested.” His eyes took a quick glance at my cleavage and then back at Chris again. I gave him a big smile and he took my hand in his. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” he quoted giving my hand a tender kiss.

  I let out an impressed giggle. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss,” I quoted.

  “Now, honey, have you been taking French lessons without telling me?” Chis placed his arms around me and Mr. Dubois’ amusement grew. “I’m ready to see that magnificent house of yours. A man who has such wealth must want to show off a little.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mouthed.

  “Now Tom, don’t you want to meet any of the other guests?” I gave Chris a small nudge hoping that he would remember that we had to scope out Mr. Dubois’ closest friends.

  “We don’t want to sound as if we’re being overly ambitious or hoping to leech off of you, but I
would love to meet some of the most brilliant minds in the country.”

  “Tom! I am sorry, my husband is rather frank at times. He sounds inexperienced; we don’t often get invited to such grand affairs with so many important people running around.”

  Mr. Dubois let out a hearty laugh. “Important people? Please! They are just like you and me. Nothing important about them at all. See that old chap over there?” He pointed towards a fat, balding man dressed as Othello. “He’s Jermone Lockhart. That over there is Michelle Dupont,” he said pointing to a lady dressed as a tropical bird. “And of course, there are the Lafietes.”

  “Well, they all must be awfully envious of your success. You are the biggest fish in the pond,” I said hoping that his lips would loosen, and he would give us a clue as to who he secretly hated the most.

  “I know I would be,” Chris said. “You’ve got your name on just about every building in town.”

  “Jealous? That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all night. I suppose wealthy people do think differently from ordinary men and women. We aren’t afraid of competition. We thrive on it. We understand that if we work together, we’ll achieve more.” He pointed to a couple. “See that lovely lady right there with her fiancé? Brilliant, she is utterly brilliant.” The guy was dressed as a hotdog and the lady was dressed as a slice of pizza. It took me a few seconds to figure out that the couple was none other than Richard and Anita. “Anita, Richard, come over here. Let me introduce you to some of Emilia’s family.” He waved over the pair.