by H Hiller
“The next sound I want to hear is your paper shredder. Got it? If you want to contact Miss Rhodes in the future you will need to contact her new attorney, Tulip Holland. Do you need the number?”
“No. I will review the case notes and please tell Amanda I am sorry to have bothered her with this prematurely.”
“Thank you for not asking if it is true.” Amanda said after I hung up the phone.
“Well it's not, is it?”
I ruined the moment. Amanda pulled her knees under her chin like an emotionally conflicted child and looked at me for a very long time before saying anything.
“It's complicated.” This is never a good response to questions of a legal nature.
I moved to sit on the edge of the desk and then dropped to my knees to look at Amanda practically eye to eye. I pushed her tear-dampened hair from her face. Her expression still bordered on one of terror. I used my thumbs to rub some of the ruined mascara from her cheeks and then leaned forward to kiss her moist forehead. Her facial expression softened a little more and she was able to force a smile.
“Complicated, huh?” I stood up and extended a hand to her. “Complicated means lunch on me. Let's get out of here and you can tell me all about it, okay?”
“I'm not going anywhere looking like this.” She took my hand and stood up. I gave her a long hug and then moved aside so she could step past.
“Why not? Nobody would ever recognize you.” I tried to joke, but she was already out the door and on the way to her room. I debated following her but lost the argument with myself and remained in the office. I looked at the paperwork again and considered the situation from every angle I could imagine.
It was obvious that Tyshika would drop the whole thing and go away if money were paid. There was probably a clue hidden in Logan’s choosing to have the papers delivered here rather than actually filed in court, but it eluded me. Even if Logan had no case, there would certainly be huge publicity once the celebrity news circus got wind of the filing, even more than usual because Amanda had managed to keep the adoption a secret in the first place. I decided that Logan had found Amanda’s weakness to be a fear of any publicity which might tarnish her public image. The one thing I kept coming back to was the simple fact that if this allegation were true in any way, it moved Amanda from bystander to a bona fide suspect in Biggie's death. Killing him may have seemed like a good way to end any sort of current or potential blackmail.
I was still mulling this over when Amanda returned. She had dried her hair and put on a touch of makeup, and she now wore the practiced smile of an actress. She had also changed into a peach colored tank top, denim jeans, and Roman sandals. She was not about to let her appearance betray anything going wrong in her private life when she appeared in public. She leaned forward to where I remained seated and gave me a light kiss before taking the papers back. She folded them into her purse and held out her hand.
“Where are you taking me?”
I should have stopped her right there and explained how much the paperwork changed everything for her, and for us. I could not entirely excuse myself for a romantic entanglement with a suspect. I decided that perhaps her explanation would clear things up and remove her from suspicion once again, but that was going to take both a great explanation from her and for me to ignore some very glaring facts.
“I know this romantic bistro just down the street.”
I looked up and down the street as she locked the lobby door behind us. I was wondering if she had a small posse of paparazzi or a stalking fan to worry about. I admit to being a little surprised at their absence. I was relieved, but also a little surprised, to not see my new shadow or the mysterious Navigator. I thought I had spotted my stalker a couple of times the night before while we were making our way along Frenchman Street and back through the Quarter.
“Hello, and thank you for coming,” Gina greeted us at the bistro’s hostess stand. She led us to the largely deserted patio and gave me a quick wink after setting our menus down on the glass topped metal table. “Let me get Tony!”
“Friendly service. You must eat here often.” Amanda joked. I started to say something but realized, too late, that Ryan was already coming toward our table.
“Thank you, thank you.” Ryan was pouring on his theatrical sincerity and took Amanda’s hand. “I have no idea what we would have done if you had not come to our dear boy’s rescue.”
“I don’t know what you mean. Really.” Amanda was whispering in an effort to keep this from becoming a scene. She had no idea the sort of scenes this man was capable of creating. The few tourist diners nearby were already beginning to look our way. Locals would have made a point of acting as though they were ignoring us.
“The staff was beginning to think Cooter is a monk. I can’t remember the last time he has been seen in the company of such an attractive woman.” Ryan grinned at me as I said silent prayers that he would leave before he could truly embarrass me. The prayers didn’t work. “I just wanted to tell Cooter here about my latest doctor visit.”
“Please don’t,” I begged with a forced grin. Ryan sat in one of the empty chairs at the table. I was happy to see that Amanda was smiling at my panicked look.
“I had to meet with a new doctor this morning. I’m dying, by the way.” Ryan informed Amanda but gave her no time to react before he began what I knew was going to be an intentionally risqué story. I could have not stopped him now without shooting him.
“And how did that go?” I fulfilled my role in setting up the punch line.
“He had the gall to ask me if I am a homosexual.” He enunciated each syllable of the last word in as exaggerated of an outraged gay man’s rising tone of voice as he could create and raised his eyebrows and hands in protest at the very idea the doctor had suggested such a thing.
“Why would he ask you that?” Amanda was now playing along. She saw how uncomfortable Ryan was making me but she also seemed to be enjoying his intrusion.
“I set that dear boy straight. I told him that I am no homosexual. I am a cock sucker.”
Amanda burst into a loud laugh, which I could not long resist either. I had come to understand my fondness for Ryan’s company was actually a form of envy for his capacity to simply be himself, while I was constantly hiding so many things about my own self.
Tony and Gina arrived too late to save us from Ryan, but brought wine.
“Amanda this is Ryan, one of our slight irregulars.” I now resigned myself to introducing her. “And this is my business partner Tony and our waitress Gina.”
“Oh, my,” Gina said and froze for a moment. “You're Amanda Rhodes!”
“Yes. I guess I am.”
Amanda seemed to finally be able to put the morning aside as she allowed herself to be fawned over by my friends and the nearby diners on the patio. It took a few minutes to get the photos and autographs over with, but things finally calmed down and we were left in peace. Gina poured from a bottle of Pinot Grigio and set the remainder in an ice bucket before she left again, taking our menus and promising a special meal from the chef. Amanda took a sip of her wine and then leaned forward to say something. “I envy your life. I really do. How did you meet your chef?”
“We met when I was in Italy a few years ago. Tony emigrated here just after I came back to New Orleans and I needed something to do besides being a full time cop.”
“I'm sure the long version is much more interesting,” Amanda frowned and poured herself a little more wine. Her first glass was gone in three gulps.
“No, not really. We’ve really only known one another a few years.”
“It might take you that long to solve Biggie’s murder,” she said over her wine glass.
“Things would go faster if the list of suspects would just stop growing.” I tried to ease us into the complicated conversation. She gave me a wary look and took another sip of her wine before bracing both hands on the table and taking a deep breath.
“Okay, here's what happened. My husban
d and I were unable to have a child of our own, so we decided to adopt. This was right after Hurricane Katrina and I convinced John we should move here in order to be part of the city's rebirth. I have made a number of movies in New Orleans and just wanted to try to give back some of what the city has given me over the years.”
“But how did you wind up with Biggie's kid?” I saw that she would spin this out for as long as possible and I had a feeling that there was a real nasty ending to the story.
“My husband was an entertainment lawyer, remember? He made a number of contacts locally and one of them was Dan Logan. Dan said he had a client who had fallen on hard times, who was trying to get his life back on track but was falling back into his old ways, and had a son almost two years old. He said the boy's parents were very concerned about his future, maybe more than their own, and Dan made a suggestion to them and my husband that maybe something good could come from everyone's situation. My husband could help Biggie meet people in the music business, and we would raise the young boy away from the world his parents were in at the time.”
“That sounds real noble.” I lied. It sounded as silly as adopting a rabid animal found on the side of the road.
Gina interrupted us with a platter of shellfish to start the meal, most of it involving shrimp or crab meat. She told Amanda how much she liked Amanda's last movie and then left us once again.
“Did money ever change hands? And before you answer, you might want to speak with an attorney.”
“Speaking of attorneys, who is Tulip Holland?”
“My sister. She handles civil litigation when things start becoming uncivil. I’ll call her later and set an appointment for you two to meet.”
“Lawyers seem to be how I got here. My husband and Logan worked out the adoption and had a couple of attorneys in Monroe that Logan knows to file everything through a court there. Looking back, there may have been some corners cut and that might be what Logan thinks he has on me.”
“What sort of corners?”
“There were no home visits or interviews with any adoption agencies for one thing. And we used my birth name, even though I have had my name legally changed.”
“Those are more than corners. There may well be some question of how legal this whole adoption is and having involved Logan only makes that more likely.”
“I am willing to pay whatever it takes to straighten things out.”
“The first dollar you pay Logan or Tyshika will only open an artery in your bank account. They will just keep coming back for more and more.”
“You're probably right.” Amanda poured herself more wine. I poured myself a second glass and moved the bottle out of her reach. We sat for a long moment and worked our way through the appetizers. Gina returned with a bottle of red wine and plates of thinly-sliced smoked Muscovy duck breast served on a stack of freshly fried Yukon Gold shoestring potatoes and drizzled with a demi-glace sauce laced with raspberry flavored Purple Haze beer.
“One question remains. I have to wonder why the attorney who handled the adoption would be willing to even threaten to file a lawsuit he knows might lead to his own disbarment. Was there ever any money to Biggie?”
“Sort of.” Amanda said nothing else for a moment and then accepted that she had to finish the story she had already begun telling me. “Right after the adoption my husband loaned Biggie Charles the money to set up his studio and did the contracts on the first couple of acts Biggie signed to his record label. But Biggie and John had already fallen out by the time my husband died.”
“Do you know why?”
“Biggie kept asking for more money and John had started taking a piece of the business every time he gave Biggie money. He did that with most of his clients.”
“And has any of the money Biggie borrowed been paid back?”
“I don't believe so. I know none has come back since John died anyway.”
Had Amanda and her husband used any other attorney I might have accepted her version of things at face value, but what she was telling me indicated that Logan should have stopped Tyshika’s suit instead of threatening to start a court case that would certainly leap to the tabloid headlines. I have no respect or affection for Dan Logan, but I never think of him as being a stupid or impulsive attorney. He had picked up a scent of something and was, at best, merely fishing and, at worst, knew something Amanda was keeping from me.
“Alright.” I didn’t try to conceal my skepticism as I leaned back in my chair. “Just know that I cannot protect you from anything I am not aware of. I don’t think you have given me the full story, but I hope it's because you do not know the full story yourself.”
“Well,” Amanda hedged. “I should tell you about the money I started paying out after John died.”
“Paid out for what?”
“Georgia came to me, after John died, and said Biggie’s bodyguard had confronted her in front of Parker’s school. She said Biggie was demanding that I pay to keep him quiet about the adoption. She said Bumper told her it was part of the arrangement between John and Biggie.”
“I doubt that. Why didn’t Biggie come to you himself?”
“Georgia said they said they didn’t want me to be able to go to the police. I was to give her ten thousand dollars on the first of each month, in cash, and she would pass it to the bodyguard to give to Biggie. It wasn’t that much money and I needed to keep him quiet. I still want to keep it a secret.”
“But you stopped paying when Biggie died, right?”
“No,” she said. This time she seemed even more nervous about telling me what was going on. “Georgia said that now the bodyguard was going to tell if I didn’t keep paying.”
“So you’ve been paying the bodyguard ten grand a month to stay silent.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “And if you arrest him he will tell everyone about the adoption.”
“Well I’m not going to run right out and do that,” I took her hand to reassure her. I wanted to, but I wouldn’t.
“So, does this make me a suspect?”
“The prettiest at the line-up, but yeah you are definitely now a suspect.”
Gina brought our dessert; strawberries rolled in graham cracker crumbs, flash-fried, and placed on a bed of home-made vanilla bean ice cream drizzled with bittersweet chocolate sauce. I wanted to change the subject so I began asking questions about her personal life and relationship with Georgia as Amanda nibbled at her dessert.
Amanda’s husband had beaten her badly enough that she had been forced to drop out of a movie she had just begun filming. She had chosen to take refuge in a celebrity rehab center and be branded a substance abuser rather than to be known as a woman too weak to leave her abusive husband. Amanda explained that Georgia was a cocaine addict with no job prospects or plans for college even if she successfully completed the program. Amanda decided to take Georgia on as her personal assistant, and Amanda was sure that their symbiotic relationship had done them both some good.
Georgia had proven to be willing to step between Amanda and her abusive husband. John Rhodes quickly learned the odds of his winning a fight with a street-wise woman who felt her meal ticket was threatened. Amanda had been able to keep Georgia substance-free for over six years, and their bond was obvious. I did not come away from this conversation sharing Logan’s lurid interpretation of their closeness.
I began to realize that Amanda was one of those women who needed a stronger person in her life, and she had simply moved from the shadow of a domineering husband to that of her personal assistant. I also understood that Georgia’s open hostility towards me was simply her way of displaying both her protective nature and silently expressing how threatened she felt that any romantic relationship Amanda had could weaken her own position.
As much as I appreciated learning these very personal details, and signs of Amanda’s apparently increasing trust and affections, our relationship was becoming clouded by my sense that there were other forces at work between us than simply Amanda’s biological o
r emotional desires. I now had blackmail and a murder to resolve, and I could only hope that the evidence would eventually begin pointing away from Amanda's door-step instead of towards it.
“So, how was the meal?” Tony poured the last of the wine evenly between our glasses and sat down on the edge of one of the other chairs, making it obvious that he was not planning to intrude very long.
“Excellent. I'll tell you what, give me your card and I will recommend this place the next chance I get.” Amanda raised her latest glass of wine in a toast to the chef.
“You don't have to do that.” Tony actually seemed embarrassed by her praise, but he wasn’t about to stop her either. A celebrity endorsement was beyond his wildest dreams.
“I have to know. What does the name of your restaurant mean?’ Amanda asked Tony. He whispered the answer in her ear and she burst into laughter. Somehow the phrase ‘road kill’ is more appetizing in Italian than it is in English. This had been Tony’s description of me when I was wheeled into the hospital in Baghdad, but Tony did not share where the name came from.
Amanda signed more autographs and gave Ginger a hug as we left, but I could tell that my companion was still upset about her morning as we left the bistro. I wasn’t likely to improve her mood by returning to the topic of her being a suspect, but did so anyway.
“You are someone who likely benefits from Biggie’s death. I see no evidence that you were ever in a position to arrange or do the killing. I doubt you are in cahoots with the bodyguard or Tyshika. I just don't see that. You may have had a motive, but you apparently lacked the opportunity to do anything about it. That makes you a really lousy suspect.”
“That’s something worth celebrating. If you can keep a secret we can go back to my place for a while. Georgia and Parker aren’t due home for quite a while.” Amanda smiled as she slid her hand into my hip pocket.
“Are you trying to seduce an officer of the law? And aren’t you afraid I might have a deal with one of the tabloids?”
