“May I help you?”
Olivia chuckled softly. “I rather doubt it, but we can see, can’t we?” She stepped into the tiny bits of light that leak from the spaces in the shutters. “I heard that the duplex is for sale. What can you tell me about the property?”
“Oh, not much, other than the owner’s number. I rent, so I hope the rumor you heard is not true.” The man reached in his back pocket and took out his cell phone. Olivia handed him a card, and he wrote the number on the back of it. “I feel at home here, I would hate to leave.” He looked up at her. “I know it sounds cheesy, but do you want to go get a drink?”
Olivia looked at the number on the card as he handed it back to her and saw the name M. Garnier. She recognized the name immediately, and it was the name she expected to see.
Looking up from the card, she made and held eye contact. She stepped closer to him and whispered, “I’m sure you have something inside we could enjoy together, don’t you?” He nodded, reaching for her hand and turning back toward the door. She pushed the door shut behind them, and then followed him into the kitchen. He fumbled with a bottle of bourbon while she concentrated on the energy in the house. The house itself was nothing special; it was typical of the early 20th century cottage that replaced many of the older houses in this part of the Quarter, but the energy here was definitely different. The intensity of it increased as she moved further from the street into the interior of his apartment.
He offered her a shot of bourbon, neat; she sipped it while considering her plans. He was definitely impressionable and easy to control, and she would be even more sure of his compliance before she left. First, though, she decided to have a bit of fun.
She went back to the living room and sat on the sofa, kicking off her shoes. His taste in furniture was not too bad, and he kept the apartment neat. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the door jamb.
“Why don’t you come over here? You can tell me about yourself and how you like living here.” He hesitated for a bit, but then he slid onto the couch next to her.
“I’ve been here for about six months; I play in a band.” He took a swig of his drink.
“Of course you do.” She looked at him closely. “What’s your name?”
“Anthony. Everyone calls me Tony, though.”
Olivia decided that was enough small talk. She took his glass and hers and drained them both. Setting them on the coffee table in front of her, she pressed her lips to his neck. She felt his pulse quicken under her lips, and she nipped him, not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely enough to keep his attention. She popped the snaps on his shirt, exposing his chest and belly. His chest was smooth and she wondered if the hairlessness was natural. Not that she cared. His body was firm under her hands, and she heard him gasp as she first traced his nipples with her tongue, and then slid her mouth lower, teasing him. She raised back up, meeting him at eye level and took the tip of her tiny blade and slid it along his collar bone, the sharpness like that of a fresh razor blade, leaving a thin crimsonline that she could sense more than see in the shadowy room. She traced the line with her tongue and he pulled her face toward his, kissing her hard. She bit his lip, drawing more blood. She pushed him onto the couch, straddling him. Turning her attention back to her real target, she made a better incision and fed briefly. When she was done, she slid off his lap and stood in front of him. She poured two more shots and handed him one. After she downed her shot, she bent down, kissed him gently, and patted him on the knee.
“Well, Tony, we do have somewhere to go. Put yourself together. I have someone I want you to meet.”
They made their way to the Casbah with Tony following her from a slight distance. No one on the street recognized that they were even together, as she walked confidently a few feet ahead of him. He looked a bit dazed and people who passed him either were equally dazed from a bit too much to drink or simply were too wrapped up in evening frivolity to notice anything odd about his demeanor.
Once inside the club, Olivia pulled him toward the back. She slipped a wad of cash into his front pocket and whispered in his ear: “Have a good time on me tonight. You won’t really remember me beyond that I asked you about the house, but you’ll definitely remember what’s going to happen once I leave. You’re going to meet a very nice girl and take her back to your apartment, I think.”
She passed Tiffany on the way out, and she smiled and nodded toward Tony. “Take good care of him, please.”
Without waiting for a response, she slid out of the club, disappearing in the street in the throngs of people.
Tiffany headed toward the back. He looked like an easy mark, as he seemed a bit drunk but friendly. He immediately warmed up to her and after a couple of lap dances and several rounds of drinks, she knew he was hooked. He paid in cash, so she was able to keep a bigger cut; credit cards are a rip off for dancers as they can’t pocket the cash or “forget” about a dance they did and keep the money. She was not normally the type to work on her own outside of the club, but things had been a little slow for her lately, and she was ready to get the extra cash she needed to finish her transformation. Maybe once she was done with this good Catholic girl act and made the transition to Morrigan she could draw a bigger crowd and more tips. Now that school break was almost over, some frat boy action would make things better, too. But for tonight, she had a live one on the line and there was a substantial roll of cash in his pocket.
“Look, honey, you’re sweet and all, but I’ve got a couple of rounds left on stage tonight. What are you doing later? Maybe we can continue this somewhere else? Where you stayin’ at, baby?”
Tony wrote down his address and gave it to her. She was surprised he was a local; she’d expected him to tell her he was staying at one of the Quarter hotels. Locals didn’t tend to come in to the Casbah unless they were entertaining out of town friends and wanted to show them the scandalous side of town.
Later that night, she found herself on his stoop. He looked so innocent and sleepy as he grinned at her and let her in, and he thought the same about her. In jeans and a t-shirt, she looked like the girl next door, not a stripper at all. “You look great. Better than before.” She blushed, feeling shy in her street clothes and outside the confines of the club where she was someone else.
“Thanks. I feel like I need to tell you I never do this—I never go to customers’ houses or hotels. The other girls do it, but I never have. I’m a little nervous.” She felt his hand under her chin, tilting her head up toward his face.
“Hey, I’ve never done this before either. I can’t explain it. Let’s just go with it.”
He kissed her softly, and he could almost hear Olivia’s prediction as he slid his hands along her shoulders, pushing back her jacket. She kissed him back, more firmly as the jacket hit the floor, and it was after the first signs of daybreak that they stopped and finally went to sleep. As she fell asleep in his bed, she heard him whisper something about really wanting to take care of her.
As odd as it seemed, she wanted him to take care of her, too, and she felt like he just might.
Chapter Eighteen
Tiffany was a bit confused the next afternoon when she woke up; Tony had already gotten up, and she could smell coffee. She got out of bed and slid her jeans on. She saw the shirt that he’d worn the night before, a snap front western shirt, and slid it on, too. It smelled like him, but also like her and the club, and there was also a slight scent of gardenias.
She moved toward the kitchen. His back was to her, and she managed to sit down at the small kitchen table without him realizing she was up. “Good morning.” She said it so quietly he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard it at first. He reached into the cupboard and got two coffee mugs. “How do you take your coffee?” He asked, grinning.
“If you’ve got milk and sugar, I take that with a little coffee in it.” That elicited a bit of a chuckle from Tony and both of them marveled at how even though they didn’t really know each other that this
somehow felt right.
“I’ve got some bread if you want some toast. I could scramble some eggs?”
“That would be great.” Tiffany stirred her coffee and took a sip. “I hope you don’t mind that I stuck around last night.”
“Not at all.”
“About last night. You don’t owe me anything, Tony. I don’t think I like the idea of making it a business transaction. I like you.”
“I like you, too.” He plated the eggs and toast and sat down at the table with her. They ate in silence, playing a bit of footsie under the table.
“I don’t quite know how to explain it. That woman that sent you over to me, that’s where the money came from. I think she’s trying to buy this place, and maybe thinks I have some influence with the owners or something.”
Tiffany vaguely remembered Olivia asking her to take good care of Tony and sending her to the back of the club. “I am not sure what’s up with her either, Tony. She and I have only met once before; she came in a few days ago and asked for a private dance in the back. She used to know my old dance partner. She knows I’m working on this project where I take on the stage character of my former partner, so I figured she just knew you had cash to burn and that I would be happy to have some extra money. It’s weird that she gave you the money herself, though.”
He poured more coffee in their cups. “It’s kind of creepy, really. She was coming on to me and then took me to the club. At least she didn’t stay to watch. Now that would have been really creepy.”
“I’ve lived here long enough that nothing really surprises me anymore. Maybe she chickened out. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman brought in a guy for a threesome only to freak out. I’ve heard other girls talk about it happening all the time. I’m really glad she didn’t stick around.” Tiffany looked at the clock on the stove. “Hey, is that time right? If it is, I need to get going.” She said it in part because it was true, but also because she was worried he might reject her and say it was all a mistake, although he seemed happy she was there.
“Yeah, I need to get going, too.” He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, let’s start over—just you and me. I’ve got a show tonight, and I’d rather not come back to the club to see you. Why don’t we meet up after you get off work and after the show? We can grab a bite to eat and have a proper night owl date.”
Relieved, she smiled and wrote down her cell number. “Here, pick a place and give me a call or text me and I’ll be there.” She stood up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Do you mind if I hang on to this shirt?”
Chapter Nineteen
Ai walked into The Ruby, this time alone. She took a seat at the bar. Deanie was at the other end, talking to her girlfriend who stopped in for a drink after work. She saw Ai and took her order, only to be stopped by Liz as she came out of her office.
“That’s ok, Deanie. Keep visiting with Meredith. I’ve got this one.”
She turned to Ai. “I’m not used to seeing you on your own. What can I get you?”
“Tanqueray and tonic.”
“Lime or lemon?”
“Both, please.”
Liz fixed the drink and set it in front of Ai. After taking a sip, Ai said, “I wanted to come by and meet you without the tour group. I thought maybe if we talked and you got to know me, the whole tour thing would not be as awful and maybe you would understand a bit better.”
Liz said nothing for a moment, then she got a clean glass and poured in a couple of fingers of rum. She did a quick scan of the mostly empty bar to ensure that the few customers who were there were not in need of refills, and she walked around to Ais side of the bar, taking her drink with her. She sat next to the other woman.
“OK. We’re just two women in a lesbian bar hanging out. I’m Liz Camp. You are?” Liz stuck her hand out offering a handshake. The corners of Ais mouth curled up in a slight grin and she grasped Liz’s hand. “Ai Nguyen. Good to meet you.”
Liz remembered their earlier conversation. “You said before that you knew Alex?”
Ai nodded. “Yes, I met her when she was working for Olivia, Dr. Olivia Holmwood. We were both working on projects for her, and often our paths crossed as one of us was leaving the office and the other was coming in. I even made it to a movie night or two when she was doing the shows here.”
Alex was in graduate school and taking a class with Dr. Holmwood when she was murdered. The class, Reading the Vampire, was one that Alex took for fun, but she had really gotten not only into the reading but also worked for her professor researching popular culture representations of the vampire, specifically in film. Alex decided to mix her two worlds by hosting vampire movie night at The Ruby; it allowed her to screen a lot of films with friends and to garner a bit of business for the bar. Once Wren and her dance partners came in doing floor shows, things really kicked into high gear. Wren’s stage persona Morrigan was a good fit for the vampire theme. Liz wondered what kind of drugs she must have been on to think she’d become one for real.
“Were you researching vampires, too?”
“Sort of. Dr. Holmwood has me working on researching actual historical accounts of vampire graveyards. It’s interesting really, all of the folklore, and how even as recent as this year that sites in other parts of the world are being discovered that appear to be gravesites for vampires.”
Liz couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I don’t understand; I thought that vampires were immortal. Why would there be graveyards for them?”
Ai nodded. “I see the confusion. These sites tend to be dumping grounds for those people others thought were vampires. There are specific rules about how the bodies are prepared for burial. For instance, in one recent site in Poland, all of the corpses were decapitated, the skulls placed on their thighs. They were buried that way.” She took another sip of her drink. “It’s interesting to me because in Vietnamese culture we have creatures called Ma Ca Rong that feed on cow shit, rather than on human blood. They actually decapitate themselves, interestingly enough, as do vampires in Cambodia and the Philippines. Decapitation, it seems, is good or bad, depending on the type of vampire. There are also tales of Vietnamese vampires sighted by Marines. They were described as having fangs and black eyes. They did, indeed, prey on humans.” She noticed that Liz was listening intently, which in some ways surprised her. She felt ashamed for getting carried away with the discussion of vampires with Liz of all people. The murder scene was reportedly horrific. And Liz walked in on the murder. ”I’m sorry; I do get carried away.”
Liz shook her head. “It’s ok. I am still looking for answers, some sort of explanation of why Wren did what she did. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it for long enough, and I’ve heard some of the rumors since I’ve been back. I have to say that I’m still stunned as Wren doesn’t seem like the type. But then I never would have expected her to start doing impromptu burlesque here, and she did. I have heard that they didn’t find any evidence that she’d been using drugs, but that’s only rumor. Perhaps it was just a psychotic break?” She took a long sip on her drink. “See, now I’m the one getting carried away. I take it that you’re a big vampire fan, then?”
Ai shook her head. “Not technically. I’m interested in the intersections of different belief systems and folklore. I’m helping Dr. Holmwood, but my interests have been more varied than that. I am working on a larger project that focuses on the appropriation of Catholicism by various cultures. My own included, but also the intersections between Voodoo and Catholicism are fascinating to me. That’s one of the focal points of the tour, too.”
Liz signaled to Deanie who came to their end of the bar and refilled their drinks without saying a word. When Deanie went back to visit with her girlfriend, Liz turned back to Ai and just looked at her for a second. She was really quite beautiful. She was willowy and slender, and her hair, which she wore pulled back in a ponytail, was so dark it had a blue sheen to it. Liz was a bit unsettled by the attraction, and as Ai talked, she didn’t seem
like the enemy, either.
“So, you are obviously very intelligent. Why are you wasting your time giving tours to people of my house and my bar?”
Ai took a large swig of her second drink before answering. “Come on one of the tours, Liz. No charge, of course. Once you’ve come on the tour, I think maybe you’ll understand that it is more than just morbid interest or greed. I don’t dress up in silly gear, nor do I focus too much on urban legends. We need more people telling true stories about the city.”
Liz reluctantly agreed. “I will go, but you can’t reveal who I am. And, once we come here, I’m separating from the group.”
Ai agreed with no hesitation.
Chapter Twenty
Liz looked at the wall, wondering how to start again. Before the murder, she had been working on a second mural in Lisa’s house; she painted a mural in Lisa’s daughter’s room, and Lisa was so impressed with it, she wanted one in her own room. The murals were replications of old Jazz and Heritage Festival posters.
“So, I know my realtor would tell me that it’s a bad idea to add more murals, but there’s no guarantee that I’m going to get the job, and there’s no guarantee that the house will sell.”
Liz laughed. “The house is perfect, Lisa. Anyone would be crazy to not buy it, frankly. Even if they don’t like the murals, that’s easily taken care of with some primer and paint. The house is in great shape, and who wouldn’t want to live in the Garden District?”
“True. I am superstitious enough to know that if I don’t do what I want to because I am afraid it won’t sell that it won’t sell because it’s not what I want. Nothing like a little instant Karma.” She grinned. “Besides, how else will I get to hang out with you now that you also co-own a bar with Kirby?”
Brigitte's Cross (The Olivia Chronicles) Page 11
