The Contract

by JM Gulvin

Franklin nodded.

  ‘I talked to him last night and he reckoned he had better things to do than pay you to be watching me.’

  ‘Of course he did. He’s not going to admit it. But the fact is he lives on Camp Street and he tossed a few bucks my way. Do you want me to drive you over there so we can ask him?’

  Quarrie held his gaze. ‘What did he want you to do?’

  ‘Nothing really: he just needed to know where you were going and who you were talking to.’

  They drove back to the 7th Ward with Quarrie still in the passenger seat. Lifting a hand from the wheel Franklin gestured. ‘What can I tell you? I’m sorry.’

  Quarrie just looked at him.

  ‘So we’re going back to this woman’s house again. What did she do exactly?’

  ‘Keep your mouth shut and drive the taxi.’

  As they turned onto North Rocheblave Quarrie spotted Detective De La Martin by the open trunk of his Ford. Franklin pulled up behind and Quarrie got out. De La Martin closed the trunk and came around with his jacket undone and perspiration coating the front of his shirt. ‘Texas,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect you back so soon, not after you were here last night.’

  Quarrie looked at him then back to where Franklin was sitting in the cab. De La Martin followed his gaze and took in the boyish features and yellow hair.

  ‘How did you know I was here before?’

  ‘Well, first off the desk clerk at your hotel told me how she gave you this address and second . . .’ De La Martin pointed to the open front door.

  Quarrie had his hands in his jacket pockets. ‘Somebody broke in here and you figure that was me?’

  ‘You were looking for her. I was in The Feathered Egg last night and according to some folks I spoke to, you were sitting down with her, only she didn’t tell you who she was.’

  Quarrie nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘But she knew that bottle when I showed it to her. I figure she gave those meds to the man I shot dead in Texas.’ He stepped past the detective, went up to the door and could see where the lock had been pried open. He looked more closely still and took in how the door itself was warped a little where it met the jamb at the tumbler. ‘This ain’t me, Detective.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Mr Football Scholarship back there will tell you he took me to that bar and then my hotel on Canal Street. After that I was at Colback’s house picking up my weapons. It’s a fact he’s been paying that asshole to keep an eye on me.’

  Again De La Martin squinted at the man behind the wheel of the Impala. ‘Well, he ain’t doing a very good job.’

  Quarrie followed him into the house and up the stairs. In the bedroom the detective pointed out the open window and rope ladder where it hung to the ground. He indicated a tiny piece of black material that had caught on a splinter of wood. ‘See that?’ he said. ‘If it wasn’t you in here last night, who-all it was, looks like they left in a bit of a hurry.’

  Quarrie took a good look at the sliver of material. ‘Detective,’ he said, ‘that’s the color of the dress she was wearing last night so I figure this has to be Gigi.’ Gaze taut, he scanned the rest of the room and saw that the bed sheets were ruffled and the drapes drawn all the way across the front window. ‘If she’s climbing out the back then she’s running from whoever it was busted in here, and maybe that was a home invasion and maybe it wasn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ De La Martin looked quizzical.

  ‘I mean maybe it wasn’t just a house breaker. Maybe she knew who-all it was or at least what it was they wanted.’

  On the dressing table was a photo of the woman he had spoken to in the bar last night. She was with a much older woman whose hair was cut just as short only it was the color of snow. Back at the window he dropped to his haunches and studied the lip of the window, the wall underneath and the wooden floorboards directly in front. ‘There’s nothing here,’ he said, ‘no flakes of wood on the sill save the one where the material is caught. There are no marks in the wall paint and no scuffing up of the floor.’ He shook his head. ‘There was no struggle here, Detective. I figure she heard whoever it was and lit out.’

  He led the way downstairs to the kitchen with De La Martin following behind. The back door locked, Quarrie took a kerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the key. Outside he stood on the wooden step and studied the grass. There was not much to see but he moved to where the rope ladder trailed its final rung then bent to squat on his heels. He looked very carefully now, a hint of something where the grass was broken, an indentation in the dirt. ‘She climbed down all right,’ he said. ‘That mark was made by the heel of a woman’s shoe.’

  ‘What mark?’ De La Martin looked where he did. ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘Sure you can if you look.’ Again Quarrie pointed out the split blade of grass and the hole in the dirt. ‘The heel of her shoe, Detective, she was standing right here.’

  ‘Well, she’s still missing,’ De La Martin stated, ‘her and the pharmacist both.’ He stepped up close and looked Quarrie in the eye. ‘I’m a homicide detective and you’re a suspect. Don’t leave town, OK?’

  Out front Quarrie walked back to the taxi and bent to the window. ‘We’re done,’ he said to Franklin. ‘You can tell Colback I don’t need babysitting.’

  Franklin opened his mouth to say something but then he caught the look in Quarrie’s eye. Quarrie watched as the cab drove away and turned back to where De La Martin was sitting in his Ford.

  ‘So Colback had that guy keep an eye on you, that’s what you’re saying?’

  Quarrie nodded. ‘I guess he figures if he’s vouching for me he wants to know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Him and me both, Texas. I don’t want you poking around up here so why don’t I give you a ride?’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll make my own way.’

  He walked beyond the church to a Minit-market that had a dining room in the back. Taking a seat he laid his hat on the table and took out cigarettes. A waitress came over and poured coffee. Quarrie smoked a cigarette, thinking about De La Martin breathing down his neck and the fact that Colback was keeping tabs on him. He thought about Gigi Matisse and the bottle of prescription medication and the hunch he had that it wasn’t her who’d given it to Wiley.

  The waitress topped up his coffee and asked him if he wanted anything to eat. He shook his head, thinking about that sliver of material on the window ledge and the photograph of the older woman on the dressing table. On the wall outside the mensroom he found a payphone together with the phone book hanging on a length of wire. He had a last name and that woman looked like she might be a relative so he flicked through the pages till he found an address. Lifting the receiver he dialled. It took a couple of rings then a woman’s voice sounded.

  ‘Mrs Matisse?’ Quarrie said.

  ‘Ms,’ the woman told him. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Mam, I’m sorry to bother you. I was looking for Gigi.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her.’

  ‘You don’t know where she might be? I’m looking to book the band, but I can’t seem to get a-hold of her.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her,’ the woman repeated. ‘Not for a couple of days now.’

  Quarrie thanked her and hung up. Back at his table he asked the waitress if she could call him a cab.

  *

  When Gigi fled her bedroom she climbed the fence and hid in the neighbor’s yard remaining absolutely still as a shadow appeared at the window. From there she had made her way to the church and spent the night in an alcove beyond the pulpit where she could see anyone who came in the front door.

  Now she stood on the corner and stared at an NOPD prowl car parked outside her house. There was nobody at the wheel but she could see that the place had been taped off. She watched for a while then walked to the phone booth outside the church. Pretending to make a call, she stayed there until she saw two uniformed cops come out of her front door and a couple of minutes later the prowl car took off. Purse hanging over her shoulder she
walked back towards the house looking as far up the street as she could and back the way she had come. She did not go in. She got in her car and drove off.

  *

  Quarrie was on the phone to Colback in his hotel room. ‘Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘If you want someone keeping tabs on me I get that, but why lie about it? What’s the big deal?’

  He heard Colback let go a breath. ‘You know what?’ he said. ‘For a while now I’ve been humoring you but you’re beginning to piss me off. I told you how it was last night. If I wanted to keep an eye on you I wouldn’t use a cab driver, I’d use another cop. Get that through your skull, why don’t you?’ The phone went dead and Quarrie put the receiver down. He sat there for a moment shaking his head then someone knocked on the door. Still he sat there and whoever it was knocked again more urgently and he got to his feet.

  ‘Yeah?’ he called. ‘Who is it?’

  A woman’s voice answered. ‘Gigi Matisse. Sergeant, I need to talk to you. ’

  Twelve

  When he opened the door he found her on the walkway in the torn black dress. Her eyes were hunted, she was shaking slightly and he ushered her into the room. He checked the courtyard below then closed the door and locked it. Gigi perched on the bed. She took a package of cigarettes from her purse and shook one out but her hand was shaking so badly she couldn’t strike the match. Quarrie took the cigarette from her and lighted it himself.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Gigi sounded a little breathless. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. I think someone is trying to kill me. Last night they broke in my house.’

  Quarrie looked at her with his head to one side. ‘I was there just now,’ he said. ‘You should’ve told me who you were when we spoke last night.’

  She sucked on the cigarette. She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. I’m taking a chance as it is.’

  ‘I figured you had to know what went down in Texas,’ Quarrie said. ‘Did you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. That was the first I’d heard of it.’

  ‘So you didn’t give anyone that bottle of meds?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘You sure? You lied to me once already. Why should I believe you now?’

  ‘I didn’t lie. You asked me if I knew who Gigi was and I told you everybody did.’

  Quarrie sat down on the chair by the door. ‘So if you didn’t give up the meds, how’d they end up in Texas?’

  Gigi didn’t answer. She drew on the cigarette. She worked her free hand up and down her thigh.

  ‘Last night,’ Quarrie said. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I was asleep in bed when someone tried to get in.’

  ‘Did you see them?’

  ‘Only a shadow on the street and then afterwards at my window, I never saw a face. I didn’t have time to do anything except grab my purse and climb down the fire escape.’ She looked fearfully at him. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared all I could think about was hiding so I went to the church. There’s nothing to steal so it’s never locked.’

  ‘All right,’ Quarrie said. ‘If you didn’t know about Texas and you didn’t give anyone those pills, what happened? Did somebody warn you off?’

  Eyes bright now, she nodded.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Earl,’ she said. ‘It was Earl that told me. When I called him on the phone he said it was being disconnected then he showed up at my house. He was so pale I asked him what was wrong and he told me to stay away from anybody asking questions.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Quarrie asked.

  ‘I guess he’s sort of been my boyfriend.’ She made a face. ‘But he’s white and I’m black so it wasn’t like we were a couple or anything. I can’t tell you his last name. I never asked and he never told me.’ She took a moment to think. ‘I met him in the Quarter one night back at the end of January and I’ve been seeing him on and off I guess ever since.’

  She started to cry, covering her face with her hands where she sat on the bed. Quarrie stood at the door and gave her a moment. ‘It’s all right,’ he said gently. ‘You’re safe here. No one can get you. You set tight for a minute or two. If you want to use the bathroom to get cleaned up then go ahead. I’m going to rustle up a pot of coffee.’

  *

  Franklin was in the phone booth at the A&G Diner a couple of blocks further up Canal Street. A film of sweat on his brow, he scraped his fingernails over his palm. ‘I told you she wasn’t there. She must’ve known someone was coming. She was gone when I got in the house.’

  ‘Find her,’ Tobie stated. ‘Don’t let me down, Franklin. Not a second time. I’m warning you.’

  Franklin leaned a shoulder against the glass wall of the booth and stared across Canal Street. He was about to say something else when a vehicle caught his eye. A weary-looking Chevrolet Nomad with sky-blue paint, it was parked on a meter directly across.

  ‘Rosslyn,’ he said, ‘I’ve got to go now. I’ll check with you later. OK?’

  *

  Quarrie went out to the sidewalk and peered across four lanes of traffic. He couldn’t see the taxi parked anywhere so he went back to the lobby where Yvonne had made a pot of coffee. She placed it on a tray together with a couple of cups and he carried it upstairs. Gigi opened the door when he knocked and he locked it again and unhooked his shoulder holsters. Gigi glanced at the guns as he laid them on the bureau and she seemed a little calmer.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for letting me in here, for listening to me and not sending me away. Maybe I should’ve talked to you last night but after what Earl told me I needed time to think. I needed to figure things out.’ Pausing for a moment she sighed. ‘Right now they got my house taped off. I don’t think I can go back there anyway, and I don’t want to talk to the cops. I could go stay with my nana for a couple of days but I don’t want to worry her and I don’t know if I’d be safe.’

  ‘Is that the lady in the photograph,’ Quarrie asked, ‘the one on your dressing table?’

  Gigi nodded.

  ‘I talked to her on the phone.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘I was looking for you but she said you’d not been over in a couple of days.’ Eyes half-closed he squinted. ‘The meds, Gigi: the Proloid. Did you give them to someone or did somebody take them from you?’

  Gigi’s hand was shaking again as she took a sip of coffee. ‘I don’t know for sure,’ she said, ‘they just went missing.’

  ‘Missing? What does that mean exactly? Did you lose them or did somebody take them?’

  ‘It means I had them in my bathroom cabinet but when I needed them they weren’t there.’ She plucked another cigarette from the pack and lighted it. ‘I think it was Earl who took them, though when I asked him he denied it. But then he would of course.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that second bottle was gone till I woke up the other day with my muscles in spasm.’

  ‘Second bottle,’ Quarrie said. ‘You telling me this happened before?’

  ‘Yes, it did. Last time I thought I’d lost them on account of how they’d been in my purse and I had to go back to the pharmacist.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘February, I think it was; a couple of months back at least.’

  Quarrie watched as she crossed to the window and peered out over the courtyard.

  ‘Gigi,’ he said. ‘Tell me about Earl.’

  Hunching her shoulders she turned to face him again. ‘I hadn’t seen him for a week or so then I try to call and he’s all irritable and nervous on the phone. He tells me the line’s being disconnected. After that he shows up at my place and tells me things had changed and I can’t call him anymore. I could see he was frightened and I’d never seen him like that before.’ Flicking ash she puffed at the cigarette. ‘Those meds were dispensed by Mr Matthews and I heard on the radio how he never showed up at home. What happened to him?’ she said. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Quarrie told her. ‘But I talked to him and I talked to you. Now he’s gone and someone came
after you. Last night, tell me what happened again, every detail, Gigi; don’t leave anything out.’

  Gigi repeated the events of the night and when she was finished Quarrie looked sharply at her. ‘You think it might’ve been a cab?’ he said. ‘You didn’t say that just now. What kind of car was it, Ford, Chevy? Did you see?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘And you couldn’t pick out the driver?’

  ‘I told you, all I saw was his shadow. The car was too far away and by the time he was at the front door I was hauling ass out the back.’

  Still Quarrie stared at the floor. ‘So tell me more about Earl,’ he said. ‘Who is he? What does he do for a living?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what he does. He never told me that, and like I said, I never knew his last name.’

  Quarrie squinted at her.

  ‘That’s not unusual, not in this part of town; people use different names all the time. He told me if I asked no questions he’d tell no lies and that was just fine with me.’ She gestured. ‘He bought me jewelry and stuff from Royal Street, things I could sell if I had to.’ She looked at the floor. ‘He’s married of course; I ain’t so dumb as I don’t know that. But life ain’t easy for a black woman down here and the fact of it is there ain’t much money to be made with the band so you just have to take what you can get.’ She looked back at Quarrie then. ‘Earl never told me what he did for a living and I never asked. But the way he carries himself I figure he might be a cop. I know cops, been hassled by them all my life. Earl’s got a cop’s eyes and a cop’s bearing. I’ve lived here long enough to know.’

  Thirteen

  Franklin crossed the busy road and walked around the station wagon. The doors were locked and the trunk secure, but he could see a roll of Life Savers on the dashboard together with a tube of lipstick and a package of tissues. Hands on his hips he stared as far as the sign for the Magnolia where it jutted ahead of the Savings & Loan. Making his way back across the street once more he went into the diner and picked up the phone. ‘Do me a favor,’ he said when the call was answered. ‘Call the club on Bourbon and Governor Nicholls. Tell Soulja Blue he’s not done yet. I want his ass down here on Canal Street.’