by Greg Herren
“None whatsoever, Detective,” Storm replied.
She gave him a look that was part irritated, part affectionate. “Thank you, counselor. How’s the family? I haven’t run into that annoying brother of yours lately.”
“He’s doing quite well.” He returned her look with a broad smile.
She clicked the recorder on. “Good. Shall we start?”
I glanced over at Storm, who gave me a slight nod. “Yesterday afternoon, I was hired by Loren McKeithen to conduct an investigation on behalf of clients of his. The clients were Freddy Bliss and Jillian Long.”
The only change in her facial expression was the slight lift of her right eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, did they hire you to find out?”
“Don’t answer that,” Storm interrupted. “I am instructing my client not to answer any questions regarding the investigation he was hired to conduct.” He opened his briefcase and handed her a copy of the confidentiality agreement.
Venus pulled out a pair of reading glasses and read it over. A vein was throbbing on her right forehead—a sign she was getting irritated. “All right then. But I have to ask, in that case, what are you doing here then, Chanse?”
“Last night, I was meeting Paige for dinner at Port of Call.” I went through the entire thing, from the moment I found a parking spot till I rounded the corner of Ursulines and saw someone walking out of the house. “At the time, Venus, I would have sworn it was Freddy Bliss…but now I’m not so sure.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You were sure, and now you aren’t? May I ask why?”
I swallowed. “Well, it was from a distance of forty yards and it was dark outside. The person I saw was about the same height as Freddy, and he had the same kind of build. So I automatically assumed it was Freddy. Now I’m not so sure.” I cleared my throat.
“Have you spoken to your clients since then?”
“Yes. When I was leaving Port of Call I received an unexpected call on my cell phone from Loren McKeithen, who asked me to come to their house. This was around seven-thirty, eight o’clock; I’m not entirely sure of the time. I went over there, and once I arrived, they told me that Glynis Parrish had been murdered, and they asked me to stop investigating what I was working on, and to start looking into Glynis’s death. That was when I told them I’d seen Freddy coming out of a house on Ursulines just before six o’clock. They told me I was mistaken, that Freddy and Jillian had been together since they left Loren’s office and our meeting.”
“And that’s when you began to question your identification?”
Venus held up a hand. “Chanse, since you’re not sure—“ her voice took on a sarcastic edge, “—who you saw coming out of the crime scene, you need to give me a description. If you would be so kind.”
“Well, he looked to be about five-five, maybe a hundred and forty pounds?” I closed my eyes and thought. “He was wearing an LSU hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled down low over his face. The upper part of the face was either covered or shadowed. When he got under the street light, I got a pretty good look at the exposed part of his face, and that’s why I thought it was Freddy Bliss. This person had the same kind of jaw structure as Freddy, but I couldn’t really get a good look at the nose. He was wearing an old pair of ratty-looking low-rise jeans, and I didn’t get a look at his shoes.
“He stopped under the streetlight, lit a cigarette, and started walking in the direction of the river, very quickly. I thought about calling out to him—thinking it was Freddy—but when he got to the corner at Dauphine Street, he started running, and then disappeared in the fog.” I shrugged. “I just went on to meet Paige.”
Venus gave me a ghost of a smile. “Did you mention any of this to Paige?”
“Um, no.”
“She’s going to kill you, you know.” The smile broadened. “She’s been bitching about having to get an interview with Freddy and Jillian for a couple of days now—and you have, or had, access to them?”
I gave her a sickly smile back. “She mentioned it at dinner, actually. But I’d signed a confidentiality agreement…”
“Like she’ll care?” Venus’ smile grew wider. “Off the record, I wouldn’t want to be you. She’s going to skin you alive.”
“Are we finished here?” Storm asked, glancing at his watch.
Venus gave him a look that would have killed a lesser person. “For now, yes. But I will most likely have some more questions for your client.” She turned back to me as she said your client. “For your sake, Chanse, I’d advise you not to speak to either Freddy Bliss or Jillian Long, and of course, don’t leave town. For any reason.”
I bit my lip. “Do you have an exact time of death yet?”
Venus sighed. “We’ve already released this information to the press, so it won’t hurt anything for me to tell you. Her assistant, Rosemary Shannon, left her alone in the house around four. Glynis Parrish asked her to leave as she was expecting someone, and she wanted to meet with the person privately. She told Ms. Shannon not to come back until after six. Shannon returned around six-thirty, and found the body.” Her eyes glinted. “And I am sure you already know that the first people Ms. Shannon called were your clients, rather than the police.”
“So, basically, she was killed between four and six-thirty?”
“Yes.”
“Fingerprints on the murder weapon? I’m asking because I touched it.”
“You what?”
“In the course of my investigation for Freddy and Jillian, I interviewed Glynis Parrish. She invited me to pick up her Emmy.” I was wincing inwardly, knowing how lame it sounded. But Storm had advised me to mention it up-front.
Venus repeated what I said, her voice displaying a dangerous edge. “She invited you to pick up her Emmy.”
I shrugged. “She said everyone wanted to.”
“Uh-huh.” She stared at me, perfectly conveying that she realized I was either crazy or a liar.
I kept silent, not wanting to blink first..
“We’re running the prints now.” She waved tiredly. She turned the recorder off. “Thank you for coming in, Chanse. We’ll be in touch.”
Storm handed her a business card. “I want you to know that my client is available whenever you need him, but the arrangements need to be made through me. No one from the police department or the district attorney’s office is to speak to him or make any arrangements to talk to him other than through me.”
Venus sighed. “Understood.”
Once we were outside the station, Storm clapped me on the back. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? Can I drop you at home?”
“No.” I replied, giving him a weak smile. “Thanks, though. I think I’m going to go have lunch somewhere.”
“Well, you have my cell if you need me.” He leaned closer to me. “Stay away from Frillian—I think that’s the wisest thing you could do right now.”
“Thanks.” I walked down Royal Street. The sun was shining, and it was in the low seventies. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and turned it on. It beeped to let me know I had a message.
I dialed into the voice-mail, and winced.
“Chanse, you miserable lying sack of shit!” It was Paige.” I cannot fucking believe you sat there and listened to me bitch all that time about how impossible it would be to get an interview with Freddy and Jillian, and the whole time you could have gotten me in there! This is how you pay me back for all the goddamned favors I’ve done for you over the years? You are DEAD to me, you hear? DEAD. TO. ME. I am so pissed off at you right now—oh, wait a minute. They made you sign a confidentiality agreement, didn’t they? They all do that. But damn it, Chanse! How could you not even HINT at this? Call me when you get this—I promise I won’t rip off your head and shit down your neck the way you so richly deserve…Jesus Christ on the cross, Chanse. Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into? You’d better not be giving interviews to anyone besides me, do you hear me? If you do, I will skin you alive, I will boil you in oil…if you don’t give me
an exclusive, I swear I’ll—“ BEEP.
I couldn’t help it, I grinned. I hit the call back button, and she answered on the first ring. “Where the hell have you been?”
“You free for lunch?” I asked, keeping my voice as calm as I could. “I might be persuaded to give my oldest friend in the world an exclusive interview.”
There was a pause. “Chanse,” she said, her voice low, “you are a witness?”
“How did you—“
“They have the television on here in the office. It just went out over CNN. You saw the murderer leaving Glynis’s house?”
Someone in the police department had already called the press. My God, I just told Venus, and already it’s on the news.
“Meet me at El Gato Negro, and I’ll tell you everything.” I replied, closing the phone.
I took some deep, therapeutic breaths, and started walking through the Quarter.
Chapter Eight
“Wow. That really sucks.” Paige said when I’d finished my tale. She shook her head and took a sip of her iced tea. “Do you think Freddy killed her?”
I glanced around. We were the only people in El Gato Negro other than the staff. Our waiter was wiping down a table on the far side of the room. We were seated in the corner furthest from the front door. I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, to tell you the truth. I’m pretty sure it was him I saw coming out of the house. And obviously he’s never going to admit being there. So it’s my word against his.”
“I guess I can kiss any access to Frillian goodbye then.” She rapped me lightly on the knuckles. “You couldn’t have gotten me in to see them before you accused him of being at a crime scene?” She sighed. “They’re not going to be talking to any reporters any time soon—and when they do, it’s going to be Larry King or someone like that.” She gave me a dirty look. “The good news, though, is Coralie has assigned the murder to me.”
“Well, you’re the paper’s top reporter, so of course.”
“Don’t flatter me, you’re not good at it.” She gave me a smile anyway. “But that should keep me out of the office—and away from her— for a few days at least. Huzzah!” She tapped her pen on her notebook. She’d taken plenty of notes while I was talking. “But at least I have an exclusive with the one witness who can place Freddy at the murder scene.” When I started to talk, she held up her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say you saw Freddy—since you’re not sure anymore.” She consulted her notes. “I’ll just print the description you gave me and let the readers draw their own conclusions. Although—“
“What?”
“You know, it’s entirely possible Freddy was there, but didn’t kill her.” Paige shrugged. “Try this on. Suppose, after Loren told them that Glynis sent the e-mails, he went over there to confront her, and found the body. Knowing how bad that would look, he got out of there and is denying ever being there.” Her eyebrows came together in a frown. “He went back home, told Jillian, and they decided to alibi each other because they didn’t know he’d been seen--and now they’re stuck with the lie.”
“How did he get into her house without being let in?”
“The killer maybe left the door open?” she suggested. “Freddy got there, found the door open, got concerned and went inside?”
“I suppose it could have happened that way.” I thought for a moment. “And of course, now he can’t change his story without making himself look guilty as hell.”
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “I guess it depends on whether his fingerprints are on the Emmy. In addition to yours, of course.” She shook her head. “How did Venus react when you told her about handling the Emmy?”
“Not well, and thanks for reminding me.” I pushed my plate away. I had about half of my burrito left, but I’d lost my appetite. “Did you interview Jillian’s mother yet?”
“I’m heading over there when I leave here.” Paige glanced at her cell phone. “Do you think she might know something?”
“I don’t know.” It was frustrating. “She and Jillian have been estranged for years—since before Jillian hooked up with Freddy. It stands to reason that whatever those e-mails were alluding to, she wouldn’t know. How would she?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Paige flipped back a few pages in her notebook. “That makes sense. I kind of got the impression when I talked to her on the phone that she really doesn’t know much about them—she’s just looking to get some attention from the media. And you know me, always happy to oblige a has-been.” She made a sour face. “But you never know—she might know something pertinent. No stone left unturned, that’s my motto—and when I’m done with her I’m meeting with Sandy Carter, see how this might affect Project Rebuild, if at all. And she might know something, you never know. She probably knows Frillian better than anyone else in town, and maybe, just maybe, she can get me in to see them—now that you’ve blown it. And I have a breakfast meeting with Jim Corliss in the morning. He’s the director of Glynis’s movie.” She raised an eyebrow. “He might know who Glynis was seeing. I hear that movie sets are hotbeds of gossip. I’ll talk to some of the crew while I’m there.”
“What’s the deal with the movie anyway? I mean, now that the star’s dead...”
“When I talked with Jim he told me they were going to recast. They’d only shot a few scenes, and if they can get someone to take the part over quickly, there won’t even be much of a delay—although he seemed to think it might not be easy getting someone to replace Glynis, given the circumstances.” She sighed.
I played with the straw in my drink. My head was starting to ache. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. ROSEMARY SHANNON. I held up a finger to shush Paige, and answered it. “MacLeod.”
“Chanse?” the girlish voice sounded slightly out of breath. “This is Rosemary Shannon, Glynis’s assistant? We met yesterday?”
“Yes, Rosemary, I remember you.” Paige started to say something but I waved my hand and shook my head. She nodded and winked back at me.
“I was wondering if you could meet with me?” She let out a half-sob. “I just don’t know what to do. I spent most of the night being treated like a criminal by the police and I just thought maybe you could, I don’t know, maybe give me some advice?” She started breathing harder. “I don’t really have any friends here in New Orleans, and you were so nice to me yesterday, would you mind? I don’t want to impose…if you’re busy I can understand. I just need someone to talk to.”
Interesting, I thought. I didn’t recall being anything more than polite to her. “I’m finishing a meeting right now, but I’m in the Quarter. I could meet you in, say, about half an hour?”
She let out her breath in a rush. “Oh, thank you, that would be wonderful! How about Café Envie? Do you know where that is?”
“Yes. I’ll see you there in half an hour.” I clicked my phone shut. “Apparently, I’ve made a friend.”
“Was that the assistant?”
“Uh huh.” I scratched my head. “She wants me to meet her. She doesn’t have any friends in town and needs someone to talk to.”
“See? I told you it always pays to be nice to people. Maybe now you’ll listen to me.” Paige signaled our waiter for the check. “You get what you can out of her—and see if you can track down the other people on Glynis’s staff. I’ll handle the stuff I’ve already arranged. I should be back at my place around six. You want to meet up and compare notes?” She handed the waiter her credit card. She smiled at me. “This is my treat. Well, actually the paper’s.” She shoved her notebook back into her bag. “I’ll type up your interview before then—I’ll let you read it before I turn it in, make sure I’ve got it right.” She took the slip from the waiter and signed it. “You’re lucky you’re my friend, you know? No other reporter is going to be so accommodating.”
“Thanks.” She was right. Now that my name was out there, the thought of what was being said about me on the news and on-line was a bit unnerving. “I do a
ppreciate it.”
“Well, I have my own selfish reasons. You’re going to be a great source, and I’m the only one with access—so make sure it stays that way. Any other reporter asks you anything, you’d better say ‘no comment’ or I’ll make you sorry you were born.” She stood up. “And no need for that bitch Coralie to know who my source is. Everyone else covering this story is just going to be recording gossip and trying to get leaks from the police department—which is already happening. I still can’t believe your name was leaked before you even left the building. Venus must be ready to kill someone.” She ran a hand through her already messy hair. “But unlike those other incompetent boobs, I still know how to be an investigative journalist.” She picked up her bag, and gave me a grin. “Talk to you later, okay? And remember—NO COMMENT.”
I walked out with her and gave her a hug before she headed for her car. I took a deep breath and walked around the corner. Café Envie was only about a block from El Gato Negro, on the uptown corner of Barracks and Decatur. It was my favorite place in the Quarter to get coffee. They also served liquor—and somehow managed to evade the city’s new non-smoking ban. As a result, all the caffeine addicts who smoked crowded in there all day long. Café Envie also allowed pets—something unique among the city’s coffee shops. As a result, it was always hard to find a table, as everyone out walking their dogs would stop in for a snack or a cup. The outdoor tables were full as I walked across Decatur, and there were about three people waiting in line when I walked in, one with a dog I knew. I reached down to pet Rambla, the friendly tri-color spaniel who was pretty much the neighborhood mascot, barely remembering to say hi to her owner. I stood back up as the young guy being served took his big mug of coffee and walked over to the condiment bar at the far side of the shop. Nice ass, I thought, shaking my head and feeling like a pedophile. He looked like he was a teenager. He was wearing baggy gray fleece sweatpants, black Converse high tops and a white ribbed tank T-shirt. His hair was trimmed down in a buzz cut, his waist very narrow, and his exposed shoulders bony. He was wiry and lean—one of those kids who had high metabolisms and couldn’t gain weight. He took an empty table in the far corner of the shop. He had a pleasant enough face, with a pierced eyebrow and tattoos on his upper arms. He caught me looking at him, and flashed me a friendly smile.
