“Oh, I didn’t consider the possibility until now. I was also worried about Imogene being gone, then distracted after her return.”
“It’s odd. Someone took the figurines out of the safe here the first time they broke it. And again the door to our hotel safe was forced open. Seems like lots of figurines are being taken from lots of places, so I wondered about the ones in your office.”
“Let me call Allen and ask him.” Neil took out his cell phone and stepped over a suitcase to get to the corner.
Just then, Imogene and Lena walked into the hotel room, looking the very picture of a hangover. Neil turned to the praline chef. “Lena, did you go in my office last night? I’m trying to find out if anything happened to Glenway’s carved pieces in my office.”
“Naw, baby. And I ain’t touched them figures either. Only thing I took was Imogene and the dawg when we went to the Quarter.” Goose hobbled in with the women, breathing so hard Jackson thought the poor dude would pant his face off. Neither the seniors nor the bull could walk past the bathroom because of the wreck.
Neil rubbed his neck. “It was so late and things got so hectic…Allen? Hey, do something for me…” He walked out on the balcony and closed the French doors after Billy went back into the room.
Billy’s hair stood on end. His nervous condition had flared up from the burglary. He stuck his finger on the pulse of his neck as Jackson sorted clothes.
Imogene put her hands on her hips. “Boys, looks like a hurr’cane tore through here. My panties and bras is everywhere. Who the devil would want an old woman’s underclothes?”
Lena shook her head. “I don’t know, baby. Don’t make no sense.”
Goose scraped by the old woman. He looked as baffled as anyone, standing with his paws pointed inward and gazing from one mess to the next.
After a few moments, Neil came back inside to glare at Lena. “Lena, tell me. What did my office door look like when you left last night?”
“Why you think I done it?” Lena gathered Imogene’s underclothes and stuffed them in her bag. “Your office didn’t look no different than when y’all was there, baby. Did it, Imogene?”
“Naw, son.” Imogene crawled over a mattress, even though Jackson told her not to. She picked up a white bra and threw it in her purse. “There wasn’t nothing disturbed ‘bout your room when me and Lena left.”
“I’m not trying to say y’all took Glenway’s pieces. I’m just trying to understand what happened. Allen couldn’t find them anywhere in our house.” He fidgeted with his golf cap. Suddenly, he whacked it against the curtains. “I bet I know who did it. Rogers took them…or that cop on the curb.” Neil dialed Rogers’s number again. He got the voice mail. “Lieutenant, we’re going to sort this out right this minute. You better return what you stole.”
Jackson had to give his partner three pep talks to get him packing. He used a familiar move from his younger days, which was to put everything that would fit into the suitcases and then place the rest into black garbage bags. Imogene’s old brown suitcase with its 1970s vibe had scrapes and scratches on it. She and Lena helped Jackson pack. Goose offered moral support and grunts of approval. Billy locked himself in the bathroom.
In just under an hour, they headed downstairs. Jackson stopped at the front desk to take care of the bill, which thankfully had been reduced considerably at Neil’s insistence. Afterward, he stopped in the restroom beside the hotel manager’s office. As he stepped out into the lobby, Jackson heard the door to the manager’s office slam and a man with a bald head, wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt, rushed toward him. It wasn’t clear if Thurston was running away from someone or charging at Jackson. Either way, Jackson was in Thurston’s path, and once again, he got knocked to the floor. In a few breaths, Jackson found himself tangled up with the cane and the man. Thurston dropped a piece of carved jade in the struggle. Jackson grabbed it. This piece was similar to the ones he’d been studying all week. This one was a jester wearing a pointy hat and a decorative collar.
Jackson closed his fingers over the piece. Thurston grabbed his cane, hopped to his feet—showing quite a bit of agility for a sedentary, literary man—and ran feverishly for the door. He slipped out the side entrance just as Rogers stormed into the lobby.
“What have you got yourself into?” Rogers leaned over Jackson.
“Thurston knocked me over,” Jackson said. He scowled at Rogers.
“Thurston? The old man who uses the walking stick? He couldn’t knock over those old women out there.” Rogers pointed to the valet area. Imogene was leaning against the car with Lena, perusing papers from the file folder.
Jackson slid the tiny jester in his shorts pocket. “Well, it was him, and he’s gone now. Help me up.” As soon as Jackson got to his feet, he started running in the direction that Thurston had taken. Rogers drew his gun and followed. They caught sight of him near where Neil stood waiting.
“Rogers, there you are, you ass. What did you do with Glenway’s figurines?” Neil ran toward him and blocked his path. “The only reason you agreed to help us last night was to steal Glenway’s figurines. Again. In fact, I bet the minute we left, your lackey swiped them from my house.”
“Out of my way, Neil. Suspect’s on the loose.” Rogers flung Neil aside with his forearm. As Thurston turned the corner, Jackson shouted for them to follow in the car. Neil jumped inside with Goose and Billy. Imogene and Lena did their best to hurry to the Cadillac, parked on the road.
Jackson hoofed it after Thurston. He rounded the corner and saw the man dashing at full speed. Thurston paused for just a second to use his cane to pry open the lid of an enormous garbage bin on the side street, trying to block his pursuers. .
Jackson dodged the lid and heard Neil’s car skid into the alleyway. Rogers turned to check on the car coming in and ran smack-bang into the lid, which knocked the gun from his hand.
“Damn it!” Rogers slowed to pick up his gun. He rubbed his ribs where he’d connected with the lid and then slammed the garbage bin closed.
Jackson kept running, passing the side door to the pool and courtyard at Chez Hill. He began gaining on Thurston, who appeared to be tiring from his sprint. Thurston used his cane in a sort of walk-run-hop motion. Neil slowed the car, driving only a few feet behind the runners.
Thurston turned and tossed his cane at Jackson, hitting him squarely in the gut. Jackson plucked it off the street. “You’re only making things worse. You can’t outrun me.”
Thurston stopped, and Jackson grabbed him. He had to rest before talking. Rogers ran up beside the men and pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket.
“You dropped one of Glenway’s figurines.” Jackson reached in the pocket of his shorts.
“What do you mean?” Thurston’s bald head glistened in the noonday light.
“This.” Jackson held up the carved jade character. Rogers’s eyes got the size of Mardi Gras doubloons. He stuffed his handcuffs back in his pocket, turned on one foot, and stormed away.
Neil pulled beside Jackson on the street and said, “Where’s he going?”
“I think I know.” He held Thurston’s arm as the man tried to squirm free. Billy opened the rear car door and slid across the seat. Then Jackson pushed Thurston next to Billy. The man started screaming and didn’t stop until after receiving a decisive whack with the handle.
“I owed you that,” Jackson said, jumping into the front seat. He threw the cane in the back, not caring if it hit Thurston again, but Billy grabbed it.
“I do know one thing,” Jackson said. “We have the man who killed Glenway right here. I know you did it, Thurston. I figured it out last night.” He pointed to what Billy held in his lap. “You used that cane with the fleur-de-lis pattern on the handle. That’s what made the indentation on Glenway Gilbert’s skull, which Billy spotted the day we discovered Glenway’s body.”
Thurston tried to interrupt, but Jackson wouldn’t let him. “I was certain that whoever killed Glenway also stole the figurines. This beautiful
piece of carved jade was stolen from Glenway’s studio. Imogene took pictures of it while it was still there. You’re the one who’s been working with Lieutenant Rogers, which is why he fled the scene. You’re going to take us to your apartment right now and give us the rest of the stolen art.”
Thirty-One
“I tell you, I didn’t kill Glenway,” Thurston said, struggling to hobble away from Jackson. They stood beside the dipping pool in the Royal Street condo, surrounded by the green lushness in the courtyard and the sound of water flowing from a lion’s mouth. Thurston scooted over to some chairs in the shade.
“You made the arrangements for us to stay at Chez Hill so you could keep an eye on us. You knew we were friends with Glenway and you knew we would try to figure out who killed him. That we would make trouble for you and your cohorts. Everyone, including you, had something to gain from Glenway’s death. We just had to figure out who would be willing to kill.” Jackson felt Neil staring at him. Neil and Billy stood under some giant palm fronds. They were surrounded by the sandy brick of the 1830s building. Ivy grew toward the second and third floors.
Jackson glanced at the locked door leading into the courtyard. He felt paranoid, but he continued. “You told me you lived on a ‘government check,’ but judging from the looks of your apartment, you have a taste for fine things. And Glenway was your ticket to fine things. You must’ve known about his generosity to everyone. Here’s what we’re about to do. We’re going upstairs to get the rest of the figurines.” Jackson tugged at the old man’s floral shirt. “We’re standing two and a half blocks from Glenway’s studio. You had the motive, the means, the proximity, and the opportunity. You beat Glenway and then slipped home before anyone saw you.”
Thurston whipped his body around and grabbed the cane from Billy. “Okay. We can go to my apartment. You can search the entire premises. I did take that one figurine, because I found it today, but I didn’t take the rest.” He put both hands on the cane and stood up straight. “And this is not mine.” He raised the antique cane.
“You’re a liar. You walked out of the private booth at the ballet with that cane and you had it the day I first saw you in the park near Café du Monde.” Jackson moved closer to the man.
“Yes, you did see it. I use it there and everywhere, but it’s not mine. It was given to me Friday morning.” Thurston looked tired. He repositioned himself in his chair beside the pool. Cool water from the lion’s mouth splashed his shoes.
“Friday morning? The day after Glenway was killed?” Jackson looked at Billy, but Billy stared at Neil.
“That’s correct.” Thurston scratched his legs. “I’ll tell you whose it is.” He shifted his weight.
Just then they heard a loud banging at the locked doors to the courtyard. Jackson hurried over to see who was there. He got on his hands and knees and saw Goose’s four paws on the Royal Street entrance. “It’s Goose and Imogene.” He opened the gate. “And Lena. What are y’all doing?”
Imogene and Goose shuffled in first. Imogene hurried over to Thurston. “What are y’all doing with him?”
“He took the figurines from Glenway. We’re making him show us where they are,” Billy said, helping her to the wicker chairs.
“Aww, he ain’t done it, son. Shoot, y’all know that gruff lieutenant took them pieces belongin’ to the Gilbert boy.” She sat down beside Thurston and stretched out her legs, grimacing at the pain and stiffness.
“You haven’t taken your medicine, Mother.” Billy opened his satchel.
“Aww, devil my medicine. I ain’t studyin’ it.” Goose walked over to the pool and took a few gulps of water.
Jackson sighed. “Imogene, we know the lieutenant had an accomplice and Thurston fits the bill.”
“Shoot, I’m gonna tell you who fits the bill, son. It’s that cockeyed Thomas Hill. The ugly-actin’ hotel man. Just listen at Maw-Maw before you start hollerin’. You know Catfish, Lena’s boy, Leonard? He knows this fellar from the swamp who helps the hotel man sell them figures. A real shade-tree fellar, Catfish says. And he tells Catfish that Hill was huntin’ prices on the Gilbert boy’s stuff all summer. Said he called a dozen times just this week.” Imogene turned to Thurston. “Naw, this fellar here ain’t took ’em. If this is where he stays, well, y’all can go look, but they ain’t at his place, boys.”
Thurston’s eyes brightened. He patted Imogene on the shoulder, and she grabbed her hat, as if she didn’t want it to fall in the pool behind her. Goose splashed water on her as he enjoyed more of the cool refreshment.
“One thing I do agree with y’all on, is that the man who whooped the poor Gilbert boy is the same one that stole them figurines. And it’s the Hill fellar. I didn’t take to him from the minute I laid eyes on him. Me and Lena done some diggin’. That Hill fellar had the reason for the Gilbert boy to die.”
“What reason?” Jackson asked, crossing his arms.
“Hold tight and I’ll tell ya. Y’all know that place we stayed at was called Chez Hill. That irked me from the time I learnt it. ’Course, if it was up to Imogene Deal McGregor, she would’ve just named it Hill House ’stead of Chez anything. But no matter. Thomas Hill inherited that hotel from his people and you know what the devil done? Lost it. All of it. He spent ever’ dime of the money he had until he didn’t have a hat to wet in nor a window to throw it out of.”
Imogene looked at the boys. Billy asked her to tell him what she meant, but Lena interrupted. “Baby, what your mama is saying is that Thomas Hill bankrupted that place. He don’t own the hotel no more.”
Imogene shook her head and continued. “Exactly. She told it right. Maybe that’s why he walks around like he don’t wanna be there. ’Cause he’s gotta work at a place his people once owned.”
“Okay, that’s fine, Mother. Even if Hill is bankrupt, that doesn’t mean he killed Glenway.” Billy hurried to get her medicine together, as if her lack of pain pills was producing the wild theories.
“Just remember what Buddy, the fellar with the wolf tattoo and the fast feet, told to Jack. He said…what was the words he told, son?”
Jackson said, “Hill was obsessed with Glenway.”
“That’s it. He was sweet on the Gilbert boy in a bad way. More than sweet…crazy for him. Like he couldn’t live without him. And get this. That devil Hill moved over near the Gilbert boy three months back, didn’t he, Lena?” Imogene pointed to the papers in Lena’s hand.
Lena took up the story. “That sweet man who tends bar at Lafitte’s, the redheaded boy, he found where Hill fetches his mail. The house over in Algiers where he lives don’t belong to Hill. It belong to another who rents it out to Hill. Got his number right here. You call ya’self if you like. Hill sold his family place in Feb’uary to pay debts. He gotta rent now. He don’t own nothing. Here the records from the courthouse.” Lena handed the documents to Jackson.
“What’s your proof of murder, though?” Billy asked, his voice echoing in the courtyard
Imogene piped up: “We just told it to ya. I didn’t see him kill Glenway, but he done it, sure’s my name’s Imogene Deal McGregor.” She winked at Thurston.
“But what about the murder weapon?” Jackson said, walking toward Thurston, who rested a hand on the cane. “This here is the implement Thurston used to kill Glenway.”
Imogene scooted over to the man and perused it. “Yeah, that’s probably what killed him, but it don’t mean Thurston done it.”
“It doesn’t mean Hill did it either.” Jackson had his hands open.
Lena stepped forward. “Baby, y’all don’t listen to your mama enough. She tellin’ the truth. Now, listen at Lena Ward. One thing that’s true as swamp water in Louisiana is this. Glenway Gilbert got hisself killed, his thangs was stole, and we tryin’ to learn who done it. The only thing mattering is we find who done it. Not who got ev’rthing right.”
Imogene nodded. “I ain’t tryin’ to be right, sister, but I am right. Thomas Hill done it. He’s ‘Blue Moon’ and ‘TH’ all in one.”
Jackson’s mouth gaped open. “TH? Thomas Hill. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Imogene winked at Lena. “And that ain’t all. You see this cane here? Me and Lena can show you another hund’rd of these fancy sticks just like this ‘un. But we’ll have to go ’cross the river.””
Lena eased over to the pool, holding both hands out to stay upright. She whispered something in Imogene’s ear. Imogene nodded, and then said, “Yeah, yeah. Good thinkin’, sister. We’ll do it.” She turned to Jackson and Billy. “Boys, y’all follow us. We’re gonna take you to ’em.”
Imogene stood and led the way to the front, holding Goose’s red harness in one hand and Lena’s loose sleeve in the other. She was ten steps away from the Royal Street entrance when someone outside began pounding the doors like a jackhammer. She stopped and whispered, “Lord, God, sounds like a band of goats has got loose and are chargin’ us, boys. Jackson, go see who the devil it is.”
Jackson didn’t even have a chance. He heard a voice boom over the transom. “Hey. You in there. Thurston and all of you. Open this damn door.”
Another voice joined the thunderous lieutenant’s. “Uh, yoo-hoo, Canebrake. I know you’re there, holding something that belongs to me, and if you don’t open this gate at once, you’ll not see one hot cent from the proceeds.”
Jackson recognized the high-pitched, fussy tone of Thomas Hill. He turned to Thurston, who stood behind the group, looking the very picture of a pasty white apparition.
Imogene said, “Son, you so pale, if they chopped your head off, you wouldn’t bleed a drop.”
Thurston didn’t respond. He just tapped his foot on the mossy brick to get the others’ attention and motioned for them to follow. Jackson attempted to corral them away from the entrance and toward the back of the building, where Thurston pointed with the cane. There was so much movement and scurrying of feet that it sounded as if a shuffleboard convention had broken out in the courtyard. Jackson could barely hear Rogers and Hill telling them to stop. From outside the complex, the lieutenant and the hotel manager hammered against the locked entrance.
Imogene in New Orleans Page 26
