The Blue Note

by Marvin Perkins

I tried to touch her but she was a spirit and my hand went right through her and then she was gone.

  Waking up in a pool of sweat, I looked around my dump hoping to see Michelle, but she was not there as she had not been before. That same dream again. It had to mean something, but I still didn’t know where to find her or if indeed she was still alive.

  I wanted to go right then and try and find her, but what could I do, I didn’t know where she was and even doubted her being missing at all. After all, I had no proof. But I had a gut feeling, and through the years when I was a cop and a P.I. I trusted my gut. It had served me well.

  But first I had to get some sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Did you take care of our problem?” Mayor Dennison asked from the confines of a phone booth along the side of the road on Highway 51.

  “Well, not yet. You said keep her on ice for a while. We was just doing like you said boss.”

  “Just remember what I said. Make sure the cops never find her body.”

  “You got it boss. We were just about to take care of your problem.”

  Rudy put the receiver down and pulled his .38 out of the shoulder holster underneath his jacket.“The boss said we should go ahead and take care of this broad right now.”

  “I still say it’s a waste. But orders is orders. He’s the boss.” Pete said, shaking his head.

  Rudy turned the door knob slowly and eased the door open expecting to see Michele still lying in the bed tied to the head board.

  “Holy crap!” Rudy exclaimed, not believing eyes.

  “Who the hell untied you?” Pete said, not knowing what to think.

  Michele was sitting on the bed, free of her restraints, still in a trance but with her eyes wide open, staring at the two hoods as they came through the door. Rudy raised his pistol, but suddenly and inexplicably his hand began to shake. He fired but missed Michele, the bullet whistling by her head, but she did not move or show any emotion.

  Pete pulled his pistol out and started to fire. Once, twice, three times, but the rounds missed their mark and hit the wall behind Michele like she wasn’t even there.

  “What the hell is going on?” Rudy yelled, as he fired until his gun was empty of bullets.

  Michele began to tremble, her blue eyes glowed, and suddenly she let out a scream, slowly raising her hand, pointing the index finger of her right hand at Rudy and Pete. “I put a spell on you. Before this day is over you will both die. Die!!!” Her eyes rolled up in her head as she continued to point at her would-be murderers.

  Pete and Rudy had seen enough, they both dropped their guns and ran from the room screaming like they were on fire.

  Michele just smiled and lay back down on the bed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was starting to doubt myself, of all things. For the first time since I started this case, I didn’t know what to do. My head was spinning as I stood outside of the Blue Note. I felt low enough to crawl underneath the door of the club, I mean I was down that night. “So where to now, Bogart? Mr. big shot private eye.” I said out loud.

  Luckily Bone came out of the door before I went totally nuts. “Got a smoke, Dirk.?”

  I pulled a Lucky out of my pocket and gave it to him, lighting it without even asking. “What the hell are we going to do Bone?”

  “I don’t know Dirk. I think we should trust in your dream. She’s in a warehouse, somewhere. But where?”

  “Pauli, he’s got warehouses. Got to be Pauli.”

  “Well all right. Tomorrow we’ll follow him. And we’ll keep on following him until we find Michele.”

  I agreed with Bone, at least that’s what I told him, but I still wanted to know more about Michelle. The big question I needed an answer to was why did she disappear. Sure we could follow Paulie and check out his warehouses, but the why behind this whole affair was what troubled me. If she was dead, why did someone want her dead? If she planned the whole thing just to disappear, why would she want to do that?

  The truth was I didn’t know anything about the lady I had fallen so head over heels in love with. Sure, she was beautiful and sang like an angel, and that was usually enough in itself for someone as shallow as me, but still I wanted to know more. All I knew was she came from New Orleans. Not much to go on, but it was start.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning came way too fast, I rubbed my tired eyes that seemed to be stuck closed with glue. I tried to get out of bed, my mind was willing but my wobbly legs just wouldn’t cooperate. I fell to the floor and lying on my back looking at the ceiling I accessed the futility of my situation. I wasn’t any closer to finding Michele than I was when I first started. “Some private eye I am.” I struggled to get up from the floor and after three tries I finally succeeded. I pulled myself back on my bed and lie there for a while before trying again.

  “Maybe I should take a little trip down to New Orleans, see what I can find out.” But the problem with that plan was I didn’t know a soul on Bourbon Street, the French Quarter or any other parts of that jazzy town. I was a lost little bird who would probably only succeed in getting devoured by a big alley cat down in Orleans. I was just an ex private dick from La La land residing in Memphis, what the hell did I know?

  And yet I felt a strange feeling of confidence come over me. It enveloped me like a warm blanket and comforted me like a mother’s love. I wanted to dance, to sing, to shout out loud about the new found power that had overcome me. “I can do this,” I exclaimed with a great deal of exuberance. “I can do this. New Orleans here I come.” I had always wanted to go to the Mardi Gras and Bourbon street and I was going to do it. I needed T-Bone‘s help, I hoped he could go with me.

  Mindlessly I ended up banging on Bone’s door, “T-Bone, it’s Dirk, open up.” I beat again, louder. “Bone!”

  Throwing open his door like he wanted to kill someone, his look softened when he saw it was me. “Dirk, what the hell are you doing here? Can’t a man get some sleep, for God’s sake?”

  I entered his joint, like I had many times and was shocked to see a beautiful young, fine and brown lady lying beneath the covers of Bone’s bed. “I thought you were trying to get some sleep?”

  “Well I was planning on doing some sleeping. Now, what the hell do you want Dirk?”

  “We’re taking a trip to New Orleans,” I said, just barely able to restrain my excitement.

  “New Orleans? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Michele is from New Orleans. We’re going there and we are not coming back until we get some answers.”

  About that time, the beautiful young woman decided she had to pee and got up from the bed wrapped only in a thin sheet and glided by me. I could smell her perfume. Damn, it made me think about how long it had been since I had had the pleasure of a woman’s touch. But there was no time for those thoughts. I had to convince T-Bone to go to New Orleans with me.

  “I don’t know, Dirk.”

  “C’mon Bone, I can’t do it without you. You know people in the clubs in New Orleans, right?

  “Yeah, I do, but…”

  “But, come on buddy old pal.”

  “Okay, for Michele. I can call the union and get them to send a piano player over to set in for me for a few days I guess.

  “All right. I knew I could count on you. I’ll leave you alone with your lady friend now.”

  "Thank you. Now get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  New Orleans, we were there, Bone and I, after a short flight on a bumpy airplane, and a landing I thought was going to be the death of us for sure. We took a cab to the French Quarter. We found a hotel after walking up and down the street for a while, that according to the sign outside, Bone and I could afford. The hotel was centrally located, one of those old wood frame buildings that looked to be straight out of the old plantation days. Large wooden columns, in great need of painting held up the building, jammed into a large wooden porch,
that also needed a coat or two. The steps creaked eerily as we walked up to the front door of the joint and entered.

  The smell of stale boos, cigarettes, and body sweat greeted us like a slap in the face as we opened the door. The inside was just as bad, maybe worst than the outside, but it was cheap and centrally located. After all we were there to get some answers, not on holiday.

  “This place is a dump, Dirk. Is you sure they allow colored folks in here?”

  “Shut up Bone, at least it’s cheap. I didn’t see any signs, so just act like you belong here, maybe no one will notice. We’ll just say you’re my assistant if anyone asks.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure no one will notice a big colored man standing in the lobby with a white man.’

  “No coloreds,” the old man behind the counter, with bushy eyebrows, and one yellow tooth in the middle of his mouth said, pointing at a sign.

  "He’s my assistant. He assists me, I need him…”

  “No coloreds, damn it. He’ll have to sleep with the others back in the bunk house, in the rear.”

  “It’s okay, Dirk. This is the south, you know, New Orleans at that.”

  “All right I’ll get a room, and you settle into the bunk house, what ever the hell that is, and I’ll meet you out front in thirty minutes or so. Okay?”

  “Okay, Dirk.”

  “I’m sorry about this Bone.”

  “Hell, it’s not your fault. It’s just the way it is in south, always has been and probably always will be.”

  “Well, I still don’t like it.”

  We met up in front of the old hotel to begin our quest. We knew we were looking for answers but we really didn’t even know what the questions were, or who to get the answers to the questions from. We were living a mystery, one that had Bone and I wrapped up in its net of intrigue. The heat was stifling, worst even than Memphis. The sweat poured down my face and mixed with the sweat from my armpits that mingled with the river of perspiration that already soaked the front of my once white starched shirt.

  I felt like I was going to melt. “God damn, it’s hot, Bone.”

  “You got that right, Dirk. It’s about time for a cold beer, what you think?”

  “Is there a place around here, that serves coloreds. I don’t want to deal with that bull shit like at the hotel again. It’s too damn hot.”

  “Yeah, I know a place. The owner, is colored, believe it or not. At night they have some of the best jazz in Orleans.”

  “Well shit, Bone, lead the way.”

  “The Cool Ray,” was the name of the joint. It was just a little hole in the wall, jazz club like a lot of the other places in the neighborhood. The door was painted black and on it was written in large letters, “THE COOLEST PLACE IN TOWN.” Under the inscription was hand drawn a pair of sunglasses, and a lit cigarette with smoke coming out of the end.

  The door swung open, the place was dark and cool, the sound of jazz could be heard coming from a speaker mounted on the wall. It was small, but not too small, what you would call intimate. A small stage big enough for a trio, set over in the corner. On the other side of the room was the bar with eight stools. There were also six tables, that could accommodate four patrons each.

  “Bone? Is that you?” A man so black, he could hardly be seen in the dimly lit bar, yelled.

  “Rufus! Well I’ll be damn. I didn’t know you was at the Cool Ray,” Bone yelled back, reaching behind the bar to shake the man’s hand.

  “Yeah, I bought this place, about a year ago now.”

  “Sorry, no whites,” Rufus said, but it was obvious he was just kidding. He let out a big laugh that filled the room. “Who’s this white man, you got with you, Bone. He the law. Ya’ll ain’t come in here to bust me, did you? I ain‘t selling no boot leg liquor, or home brew, I swear officer. ”

  “No, we ain’t here to bust you Rufus. We just was looking for a cool place to drink a cold beer and I told him about the place. This here’s my friend, Dirk Bogart. He used to be a private dick in Los Angeles, but now he works as a bouncer at the club I work at in Memphis, called the Blue Note.”

  Rufus flashed a set of pearly whites that lit up the room as he shook my hand. “Well any friend of Bones, is a friend of mine. Two cold beers coming up, on me.”

  T-Bone and I sat at the bar, finished the beers and ordered a couple of more. Damn, it’s nothing like a cold beer on a hot day. As Rufus was bringing our beers he asked a question he had been dying to ask the whole time we’d been sitting there. “So what brings you fellows to Orleans? Got to be some reason, ya’ll come all the way down here. Wasn’t to sit in my club, as nice as it is, and drink cold beers on a hot Louisiana day.”

  “Well, it’s a long story Rufus,” Bone said taking a long drink of his cold beer.

  “Time is something, I got plenty of, Bone. “Specially, if say, a pretty lady is involved.”

  “Well as a matter of fact, a pretty lady is in the story. So this must be your lucky day.”

  Rufus grabbed him a cold beer, and a seat at the bar and got ready to hear the story.

  “A girl by the name of Michele Dubois, was hired to sing with my group at the Blue Note. She said she was from New Orleans, and of course we had no need to doubt her. She has the voice of an angel and the looks to match, let me tell you.” Bone took a big pull of his beer.

  “She is beautiful, gorgeous, voluptuous, and any other description you would use when speaking of walking apparition of loveliness,” I said, maybe heaping it on a little thick.

  “As you might guess, my man Dirk, here, is in love with the girl.”

  “Yep, yep, I can see that. Okay, so the boy’s in love,” Rufus said, taking another gulp of cold beer. “She left you for another man, right Dirk? She came back to Orleans, now ya’ll down here trying to get her back, right?”

  “Well she did leave with another man, but not voluntarily. We think she’s been kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped, oh Lord. Who you think done it? You think she back in Orleans, right?”

  “Here’s the thing. We don’t know for sure if she’s been kidnapped, killed, or just plain disappeared for some reason. She may be back down here, but it’s doubtful. We came down here hoping to find some answers.”

  “You say killed?” Ruffus said, eyes wild. “I sure hope that ain’t what happened.”

  “Now Dirk,” Bone said. “we don’t know what has happened to her. So don’t be getting Rufus here, all excited about a girl getting murdered. The truth is we’re looking for her people. We’re hoping that something in her past will help us find out what’s happened to the girl. Word is she was mixed up in Voodoo down here in Orleans and her people probably was in it too.”

  “Voodoo!” Rufus yelled. “I don’t know Bone. If she was mixed up in that shit, ain’t no telling what has happened to her.”

  “Yeah we thought that at first, but we don’t think Voodoo had anything to do with it,” I said, trying to calm Rufus down a little. “Have you ever heard of a Dubois family, or singer by the name of Michele?”

  “Dubois, let me think,” Rufus said stroking his chin. “Michele, you say?”

  “That’s right, Michele Dubois,” I said.

  “No, I don’t think I know her, but I do know an old man that might can help you.”

  “How so?”I asked, not knowing where Rufus was going with his answer.

  “We call him the “historian.” He know everything there is to know about every negro that ever lived in this here town. How he remembers all that stuff is a mystery, but he knows everybody and everything ‘bout them and their people. He an old man, ’bout blind, used to be a doctor for some fifty years, they say, birthing babies was his specialty. ‘Til he went blind, that is. If’n this Michele Dubois and her people ever lived in Orleans, he’d know.”

  “Where can we find this historian?” I asked Rufus sucking down the last of my brew.

  Rufus thought for a moment, scratched his chin and said rather vaguely. “I don’t rightly know, ’zactly,
but he live in an old shack just north of the Quarter, way up on a hill, you can’t miss it. If you do, just ask anybody ’round where you can find the historian. They all know him.”

  Bone and I headed out the door into the afternoon heat to find this blind man who claimed to know everyone and everything. We just hoped he knew Michele’s people and could give us some answers.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After walking for what seemed like miles and asking every Negro we saw where we could find the mysterious blind man, we finally got a line on where his old shack was located. Sure enough it sat way up on a hill, all by itself like a creepy mansion from an old horror movie. The closer we got, the scarier the old house looked.

  “Will you look at that, Dirk. I don’t know. That place is really creepy.”

  “Stop acting like a little girl, Bone. It ain’t so bad.”

  “Ain’t so bad, my ass. I don’t know, Dirk.”

  “You said that already. We’re going in there and talk to the old blind guy and find out if he knows anything about Michele, so stop complaining.”

  Bone was just fixing to voice another complaint when suddenly a woman, black as coal, and thin as a rail, came running out of the house screaming. She ran right by Bone and I without even acknowledging our presense and ran on down the hill and disappeared in between two old buildings.

  “What the hell? I told you, Dirk. I told you. Creepy.”

  I have to admit I was a little shaken myself by the sudden appearance of a screaming lady, running from an old scary house we were about to visit, but what the hell? I was still determined to talk to the historian, even if screaming ladies were fleeing his house of horror.

  “Come on Bone, let’s do this,” I said as we reached the porch of the old run down shack.

  I knocked loudly. At first there was no answer. I knocked again.

  The door suddenly flew open and we were standing face to face with the man himself. The historian. He was old and bent with a wild head of white hair that looked like a giant cotton ball. A beard every bit as white as his hair, protruded from his face like an unkempt porcupine. His eyes were covered by an old pair of wire frame sunglasses that sat crooked on his face. He wore an old pair of khaki trousers held up by suspenders, and an off white shirt that looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine or an iron in years.