Imogene in New Orleans Page 17

  Jackson’s phone rang. “Shoot.” He glanced at the screen. “What did you talk about that night? Was there any reason Allen came alone?” His phone rang two more times. “Hold on, Thurston.”

  He answered it. “Billy? Hey…What do you mean, the room’s been destroyed...? Oh… broken into. They’re gone? Are you sure? You checked the safe…The door was open. I see. Yes, I’m fine. I’m with Thurston, at his place on Royal Street, two blocks down from Glenway’s studio.” Jackson glared at Thurston, whose ears perked up at the conversation. He leaned forward. “Wait there. I’m on my way back.” Jackson stood up to leave. When he got to the heavy door, he turned around and tossed the cane at the old man. “Whatever you’re hiding, Thurston, I will figure it out. Don’t think for a minute that we’ve finished our conversation.” He headed outside, leaving the door to Thurston’s apartment open, and before he reached the stairwell, he heard Thurston bolt it shut.

  Twenty

  “I told you not to leave them here, Jackson.” Billy threw his hands in the air. He walked around the mattress, which leaned against their bed, creating a sort of tepee. Suitcases had been overturned, clothes were everywhere, and Billy’s backup blood-pressure cuff had been tossed into the corner on Goose’s pallet. Billy picked it up. “The figurines are gone, and the worst part is that someone knows you took them. Or worse yet, they’ll think I took them.”

  “You were supposed to be keeping guard, Billy.” Jackson surveyed the damage.

  “Yeah, I was ‘keeping guard.’” He jammed the device’s battery cover in place. “I stayed there at the pool waiting and I never saw Hill again. And when my feet turned to prunes and the cocktail party started out there, I came back up…with Goose.” Goose looked at Jackson, as if he, too, had some accusations of neglect. “Where were you this whole time?”

  “I told you. I went to Thurston’s place. He lives near Glenway’s studio.” Jackson watched Billy adjust the mattress, then fall on the bed in a pile of Imogene’s clothes. Billy flipped his hair with his hand and scowled.

  “I’m sick of this. Sick of it, Jackson. I wish you’d stop playing Hercule Poirot and let the police do their job. It’s not your business.” Billy wrapped the blood pressure cuff on his arm and battened it down.

  “The police aren’t doing anything, Billy. I just want to know what happened to our friend. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since we found him, and the likelihood of us catching the killer decreases with each moment. Don’t you want to know who did it?” Jackson cleared off the shoes, clothes, and toiletries from Imogene’s bed and sat down.

  “Of course I want to know. But I don’t want to be caught in the middle with these creeps. Look at us. Look at what happened. And Mother is with Lena and Neil, two people who had every reason in the world to kill Glenway Gilbert. And you…you’re off chasing shady characters…people you don’t know.” Billy ripped the Velcro and readjusted the cuff on his arm. He grunted. “Why are you rubbing the back of your head?”

  Jackson stopped massaging the place he’d been struck. “Thurston snuck up behind me and whacked me.”

  “That’s exactly my point. If you don’t cool it, you’re gonna get whacked for good. Come here and let me see it.” Billy began a full-scale nursing evaluation. “You need to take that ice bucket and fill it up.” Jackson did as he was told, and when he returned, Billy removed the cold compress from his satchel.

  There was a knock at the door. Jackson jumped up to look through the peephole and then ran back to the bed. Billy stopped unscrewing the lid on the compress.

  Jackson said, “Oh, man. It’s Rogers. Did you call the police?”

  “Of course I called the police. We were robbed, Jackson.” Billy threw the compress at Jackson.

  “But he chased me uptown and downtown this morning, Billy. You—”

  “Open the damn door. I hear you in there, Detective Miller.”

  Jackson felt an icy chill run over his skin. It made the compress he held feel tepid. He dashed for the balcony doors, which caused Goose to bark violently. Goose’s ears were pinned back in a defensive stance, clearly upset at the commotion. “Shh, Goose. Cool it….Billy, I’ll be out here until the lieutenant leaves. Try to act like nothing’s happened.”

  Billy’s face was pale. He tucked the blood-pressure cuff under his arm and walked slowly toward the door like he was about to visit the gallows. Jackson waved him onward and then hurried onto the balcony, pulling back the curtain just enough to see into the room. He closed the French doors just as Billy let in Lieutenant Rogers.

  Rogers stormed inside with his hand on his revolver. “Where’s Jackson Miller? And what did you do in here?” He surveyed the mess. “Y’all are a magnet for trouble.” He straightened his starched collar. Two officers crept in and stood beside the entrance.

  Billy glanced at the balcony. “We didn’t do anything, Lieutenant. Someone ransacked the room. Jackson’s…not here.”

  The hulking officer crossed his arms and belted a question. “Where were you during the robbery.”

  Billy zipped up his satchel with force and swung it over his shoulder. “We were at the pool. You can ask your hotel pal Hill, the manager. He saw us there.”

  Rogers put his hands on his hips, peering at the corners of the room, as if searching for Jackson. “What did the burglars take? Looks like they left you something to wear, at least.” He pointed at the clothes thrown everywhere.

  “I don’t think they took anything, Lieutenant.” Billy opened his mother’s medicine dispenser and counted the pills. Goose sauntered over to the French doors to check on Jackson. Jackson waved him away, but Goose stood there sniffing the air, apparently trying to comprehend the situation. Billy saw the dog and moved between the door to the balcony and Rogers. “Why are you here? You seem to always show up when there’s trouble.”

  “You’re the one who called the police, Billy McGregor. And it’s my job to stop trouble in this city.” Rogers stepped over a suitcase and came closer to Billy. “Where’s your mother?”

  “She’s out with a friend.”

  “Ah, I see...She and the praline woman are getting along fine.” Rogers studied his interviewee.

  Jackson could hear the conversation from the balcony. The curtains still swayed from his slamming the door and Goose pushed one to the side. Jackson made eye contact with his dog, who stuck his lower teeth out further.

  Billy clutched his satchel so tightly that Jackson saw his knuckles going white. “How come you know so much about us and what we’ve been doing?”

  “I make it my business to know.” Rogers snapped his fingers, and the accompanying two officers took a few steps farther into the room. One of them handed the lieutenant a sheet of paper. “I heard Jackson Miller’s voice in here a moment ago. Where did you say he is?”

  “I…I didn’t.” Billy stammered.

  Rogers turned and looked at the French doors.

  Jackson stepped out of the line of sight, and breathed deeply. Hopefully, Rogers had not seen him. Suddenly, he heard a loud commotion inside. Billy yelled, Goose barked, and Rogers yanked open the balcony door. Jackson saw the meaty arm reach outside and before he could stop it, the lieutenant grabbed him by the collar.

  “Hey, wait, what—”

  “Shut up, Detective Miller. You didn’t think I’d forget about our little chase today did you? I’m sick of your antics.”

  Rogers was not gentle. Jackson felt like a Mardi Gras feather boa being tossed about in the wind as he was whisked from the balcony. “Let me go, you meathead.” Jackson’s feet scraped the ground and then crashed against the table. Goose was in the midst of a wild set of canine screeches. He was poised for battle, aiming his snout at the lieutenant, who twisted Jackson like putty.

  Billy stormed toward Lieutenant Rogers and tried to pry Jackson loose, but Rogers would not let go. Billy pushed harder and all three of them crashed to the floor.

  Jackson landed on Rogers and Billy amid the splintered legs of the table. J
ackson felt the vibration of Goose’s barks. He tried to put his hands on the floor to push himself upright, and accidentally brushed a heavy lump in Rogers’ coat pocket. He patted it again and felt the outline of something familiar. Could it be?

  Rogers pushed Jackson’s hand away from his pocket. His nostrils flared as he shoved both Jackson and Billy off of him.

  Jackson grabbed for the object again. “That’s a figurine in your pocket, Rogers.”

  Billy wiggled on his side, struggling to get free. “What did you say, Jackson?”

  The two officers accompanying Rogers grabbed Jackson and Billy.

  Jackson swung around, fighting against the cop in order to face the lieutenant. “I said, I think Rogers here knows what was taken from our room, Billy. Look at his pocket there.”

  Rogers jerked the bottom of his blazer to straighten it and took a deep breath that made his broad chest look even more like a barrel. He straightened his back. “Nonsense. I’m here to help find out what happened in this room.”

  “Sure you are. A regular hero, you are, Rog.”

  Rogers started shifting clothes around the room and suitcases, suddenly having a great deal of interest in their personal effects.

  Jackson mouthed the word “listen” to Billy, and then he started following Rogers’s shifty movements, hoping to see the outline of the pieces. “Rogers, have you done anything on Glenway Gilbert’s case, besides arresting my friend Neil, chasing me around the city, and taking certain things from our hotel room?”

  “I didn’t take anything from you.”

  Jackson and Rogers had a momentary stare-down, then one of the officers asked if he should arrest both the boys for assault. Rogers hesitated and then turned to his subordinates. “No, it was a misunderstanding. Just take their statements.” Rogers nodded at the men in uniform.

  Jackson wished there was a way he could check the lieutenant’s pockets. “Glenway was a celebrity. What else could you possibly be doing that would supersede this investigation?” Jackson paused a moment then added,, “At least you could tell us the exact time of Glenway’s death. Was it Thursday night or Friday morning?”

  Rogers crept toward the bathroom. “We know he died that night.”

  “No kidding. Bar patrons saw him around midnight at the ballet. He even left a message on Neil’s voice mail that afternoon, canceling their usual dinner plans.” Jackson looked at his partner.

  “Yeah, well.” Rogers spoke over his shoulder. He walked past the clothes hangers near the front door.

  “That’s it? That’s all you have? Billy, my partner here, is a nurse, and he believes Glenway stopped breathing sometime between midnight and three a.m.”

  “That’s right. Coroner believes Gilbert died between one a.m. and three a.m. on Friday.”

  “Thanks Lieutenant, seeing as how it’s a day and a half later. No telling how long it’ll take to know what killed him, much less who.”

  Rogers tilted his head. “Your partner there was close. A little too close. What time did you say you arrived in New Orleans?”

  “We’ve been over this, Rogers. We didn’t get here until Friday afternoon, apparently more than twelve hours after Glenway died.”

  Rogers flinched and then buttoned the top button on his coat. “I think that’ll do for now. Just let the officers finish the paperwork.” He took one step forward and opened the door.

  Jackson said, “We know where to find you if we think of anything.”

  “I’ll get a patrol officer to cruise past the hotel more than usual.” He jangled the keys in his pocket.

  “I’m sure you will.” Jackson motioned for the lieutenant to leave. Rogers disappeared, and the boys had to complete an official report of the break-in. It was another twenty minutes before the uniformed officers left and the boys could speak freely.

  “Not that it’ll help, but I do have a plan, Billy. You and I are going to catch Rogers with all the figurines.” Jackson picked up a shirt from the floor, folded it and put it in his suitcase. “We know he has them, but we’re going to prove it.”

  “Why didn’t you just grab them while he was here?” Billy sorted the contents of his satchel, which had been tossed during the scuffle.

  “Do you think I really could have wrestled Rogers to get the figurines out of his pocket? He would have arrested us for sure.” Jackson picked up another shirt and folded it. “No. I want to get more than those few pieces he took today. I’m talking about all the ones that have disappeared from Glenway’s studio. We’re going after the whole haul. And maybe…just maybe we’ll find out Rogers killed Glenway himself.”

  “Really? A cop?”

  “Really.”

  * * * * *

  On their way to Neil’s house, they stopped at the pharmacy so Billy could get replacement batteries for the blood-pressure monitor. Jackson didn’t fuss about the delay, because he knew it would be useless. As they exited the parking lot and headed uptown toward Neil’s house, they noticed an old Cadillac Seville rumbling down the street. An elderly African-American woman was driving the car and an elderly Caucasian woman sat in the front seat, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat and a pair of shades. She and the driver were laughing hysterically about something. The woman in the passenger seat took pictures as the Cadillac rolled past the boys.

  “Is that Mama?” Billy asked, halfway finished installing the new batteries.

  “I think it is, but I can’t turn around. I’m hemmed in by two cars on each side and one behind me.” Jackson swerved as he craned his neck.

  “What are they doing heading for the French Quarter?” Billy turned around to see the car fading down the street. “Oh, I will ship her back to Alabama as soon as I see her.” He jammed the last battery in the back of the monitor.

  “Calm down. Let’s go see what Neil says about everything.” Jackson stared at Billy as his face turned from pink to red to crimson. He pressed the button on his monitor and after it finished the reading, he did it again and again. He fidgeted in his medical satchel in between vital sign checks. He threw things out into the floorboard, fastened and unfastened his seat belt, mumbled to himself, and told his partner how to become a more effective driver.

  By the time they arrived at the house, Billy had worked himself into something of a state. He popped out of the car with more than a little oomph and walked straight to Neil, who sat with Allen on the porch, enjoying sundown. He stamped his foot near the herb garden.

  “What on earth were you thinking letting my mother leave here with Lena? I thought you said you were watching her for the afternoon? We just passed them driving through the Business District toward the French Quarter.”

  “Billy, what’s the matter with you?” Neil asked, standing up.

  “What’s the matter? Our friend Glenway’s been killed. Jackson chased a hustler and then got beaten by an old man that you know, and now Mother’s in a car with one of the suspects in Glenway’s murder. What’s the matter, you ask?.” Billy sputtered for a moment before gaining words again. “Everything’s the matter. There’s too many secrets and shady dealings here, including what you two have done.”

  Jackson grabbed Billy by the arm, mouthing an apology to Neil and Allen, who stood on the porch with their eyes wide as silver dollars. Jackson put his arm around his partner and walked him into the house. Billy swung his arms, fighting all the way to the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Jackson hurried his partner into the back room behind the pantry. Billy collapsed on the bed.

  “Mercy.” Jackson rubbed his face, trying to think of a way to smooth things over with Allen and Neil. “Listen. You can’t be accusing our closest friends of the murder, not even if you believe it.” Jackson picked Billy’s short legs up and put them on the cool bedspread. “You just lie down for a minute while I go try to explain.” Billy nodded in defeat. He looked like he could cry. The sides of his mouth were crumpled up. “I know you’re worried, but Imogene can take care of herself.”

  “Yeah, just b
arely.” Billy let Jackson kiss his forehead before leaving.

  Jackson turned the light off and gently closed the door. He headed for the front and met Neil in the foyer. Neil looked piqued, standing there combing his mustache and tapping his foot on the hardwood floor.

  “Let’s go outside and leave him alone for a minute. He didn’t mean what he said.” Jackson led Neil to the lawn chairs on the front porch and took a seat. “It’s been a rough day. We’ve lost Imogene once—well, twice if you include passing her just now in Lena’s Cadillac. I think that’s what set him off. Plus, I followed your friend Thurston, who was being chased by Hill, the hotel manager. I ended up speaking with him at his place on Royal Street. When Billy returned to our hotel room, he found it had been ransacked. We were robbed.”

  “Oh…oh. I’m so sorry, Jackson,” Allen said, sitting up in his chair.

  “What do you mean, you were robbed?” Neil asked.

  Jackson told the guys what happened. Allen’s face turned from a tense mash of whiskers and frowns to a more relaxed look. “I understand why Billy’s upset. I’d be upset too.” Allen stroked his beard.

  Jackson didn’t want to throw a cannonball in the suddenly calm waters that were Allen and Neil, but he couldn’t not mention Rogers and the figurines. He tried to slip the occurrence in, the way Billy sometimes slipped a nerve pill to Imogene when she wasn’t paying attention. “And then Rogers attacked me. I imagine he was attempting to arrest me, but I felt one of Glenway’s carved figurines in his pocket, the ones I took from Buddy’s house…But anyway, Neil, how do you know Thurston?”

  Neil jerked to the front of his chair. “What did you say?”

  “I asked how you know Thurston.”

  “No, not that, dammit. The bit about Rogers.” Neil grabbed his cap.

  Jackson lowered his voice and said, “I think Rogers took the figurines from our room. I think he’s the one who ransacked it. Either him or his subordinates. But either way, he ended up with them. I know he had one in his pocket. I felt it and he realized that I recognized the shape and size. I think that’s why he let us go.”