Imogene in New Orleans Page 7

  Jackson walked to the far edge of the balcony, closest to the river, and he leaned over it. From that viewpoint, he could see the road that dissected Toulouse and the other entrance to the hotel, which he noticed for the first time. He watched for a minute until he saw the shadow of a hulking man coming down the road. The shadow outlined a beefy person with sharp lines and a purposeful walk. He waited as the footsteps became more distinct. Lieutenant Rogers emerged from under the balcony and approached the side entrance.

  “Oh.” Jackson scooted away from the edge but kept one eye on Rogers as he disappeared into the hotel. He tiptoed back to the others, and Imogene leaped out of her chair, hurrying to see what had caused his reaction. He blocked her from reaching the far end of the balcony. “No, no. Get back. It’s the man who arrested Neil yesterday.” He made her turn around and return to her seat.

  She peeked around Jackson’s shoulder. “Shoot, he ain’t gonna arrest me. I’ll outfox him, Jack.”

  “Imogene, he’ll arrest you before you can blink. He didn’t give Neil a chance.” Jackson held his hands out.

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have head-butted a big ol’ boy like that. Neil should’ve kept his wits, boys. You don’t strike a constable, no matter how much they fire you up.” She stood tall to peek around Jackson’s arm.

  Billy had a furrowed brow. “Was it really Lieutenant Rogers?”

  “Absolutely it was.”

  Billy jumped up and swung open the door, insisting they return inside. He didn’t even consider his mother’s protests about staying on the balcony. In fact, her huffs and puffs fell on deaf ears.

  Goose needed no convincing. He shuffled inside first, happy to return to the heavy carpeting and the cool corner where he had a bone and a pallet.

  Jackson tried to get Imogene’s mind off the lieutenant’s presence. “Imogene, you took some great pictures. Would you hand me your camera? We need to get them printed. I think they’ll help us see things we didn’t see in the shock of finding Glenway yesterday.” Jackson held his hand out, and Imogene, after a bit of “hemming and hawing,” gave him the camera. Jackson fiddled with the camera, then looked over at her. “You took five hundred pictures.”

  “Yes, indeed. Like I said, I’ll be a regular, ol’ arteest if I stay here long enough.” Her eyes brightened.

  “Mother, you don’t have to take so many.” Billy sighed.

  “Hey, boss man, did you and Jackson buy that camera for me or for y’all?” She eyed them. “That’s what I know. We ain’t gotta print ’em all. ’Sides, Allen said he already put ‘em on his computer. Speakin’ of Allen, I wonder if he’s picked up sweet Neil from jail yet.”

  “Allen says Neil will be out soon.” Jackson concentrated on the list of suspects. Buddy’s name stuck out to him much more so than Catfish’s. “Why don’t we take a visit out to Algiers? We can let Imogene ride the ferry across the river. Plus, I don’t feel comfortable staying here right now with Rogers in the building.”

  “What’s that lawman gonna do to us?” She removed her cell phone from her brassiere and asked her son for Allen’s number. Billy lay on the bed, trying to calm himself. Goose rested on his pallet and licked Billy’s hand, which rested on the floor as Glenway’s had in the studio when they found him.

  “What’s wrong with you, son? Havin’ a spell?” Imogene limped over to him. “You need me to bring you something? A drank, a nerve tablet?” He had his face covered in a pillow, as if to block out the sounds from his partner and mother.

  “Should I call the amb’lance?” He waved her off and she tottered back to her chair. “Hey, Jack, quit worryin’ over that piece of paper and go check on your partner.”

  “He’s just having a panic attack, Imogene. I think he’s worried about the lieutenant being here in the building.” He and Imogene heard a muffled sound from underneath the pillow.

  “And why aren’t y’all worried?”

  Imogene looked at him sideways. “What you say, son?”

  He removed the pillow. “I said, why aren’t you worried about the lieutenant being in the building?”

  “Shoot. What’s he want with two gays, an old woman, and a fat bulldog? He ain’t after us, son.” Imogene straightened her hat and pressed down a crease in her pants.

  There was a loud, powerful knock at the door. Goose, who up until then, had continued to lick Billy, began barking like he was on fire. He bolted toward Imogene in order to get a better view.

  Imogene jumped up from her chair and started toward the entrance. Billy said, “No. Sit down, Mother. Let Jackson open the door for the lieutenant.” She turned around at Billy’s urging and waited a moment. The knock resounded and this time with even greater urgency. Goose belted a series of ferocious responses.

  Jackson stuffed the list and the camera in his shorts pocket. He then cleared the table of everything that might be incriminating. He crammed Glenway’s leather journal in the bottom of a suitcase perched on a stand and then zipped it fully. Imogene was already several steps closer to the door as Jackson scanned the room for other items that should be hidden. Goose continued growling, and as soon as another knock boomed at the door, he bellowed at the walls.

  “Y’all are afraid of that lawman, but I’ve seen worser than him by far. Shoot.” Imogene leaned in and took a gander through the peephole, and then began unlocking the door.

  “Mother, no, don’t do it,” Billy yelled, slamming his hand against the bed. Jackson braced himself as Imogene swung the door wide open.

  Eight

  As Neil walked into the room, Imogene greeted him with a big hug. “Honey, ask these boys if Maw-Maw McGregor hadn’t worried sick over you.” She squeezed him and then let him inside.

  “I’m fine.” Neil glanced at Jackson, who felt the tension in the room dissipate. “Man, we thought you were…someone else.” He walked over to Neil and patted him on the shoulder. Goose stopped growling and trotted over to give Neil a welcome sniff.

  “Is everything all right?” Neil asked. “You’re acting like something’s wrong.”

  Jackson placed Neil’s bags on the table. “Oh, no, we were just worried about you. And…uh...” Jackson glanced at Billy, who shook his head. Neither of them wanted to tell Neil about seeing Rogers either.

  “How’d you get outta the clink, son?” Imogene rubbed his back.

  Neil made her sit down and then he slid next to Billy on the bed. “Oh, well, I told Rogers I had a friend in the city council and I meant it. I’ve done enough work around the city to meet some folks, and you know, I always say New Orleans is really a small town. But anyway, when I called my friend, he was at a charity gala in the Garden District, but he called me back eventually. They released me last night around ten thirty. If it hadn’t been for that sonuvabitch Rogers, I never would’ve gone in the first place. I don’t know who he thinks he is.”

  Imogene said, “You talking ‘bout that gruff constable? Shoot, we just—”

  Jackson interrupted her. “We just worried about you.” Neil raised his head to look at Jackson squarely. Jackson glanced at Billy again and then said, “We called Allen to check on you.”

  “Hmm, okay.” Neil’s eyes opened wider as he looked askance at the boys. “That’s sweet of you to worry, but I’ll be keeping a close watch on how this investigation of Glenway is handled, especially after yesterday.” Neil clasped his hands together with authority. “That jerk.” He looked at the wall as if he could hit it. “But anyway, sorry. Since you were supposed to be on vacation, I picked up a few things for you.”

  Imogene scooted her chair closer as he started offering gifts one by one: three streetcar vouchers for the week; tickets to the Mardi Gras museum across the Mississippi River in Algiers; and six pounds of the best beads in his collection.

  “Y’all know I don’t miss a parade, even if I have to go alone. I keep an eye out for beads, especially the exotic kind with the medallions of the different krewes and various symbols of Carnival.” He showed them a plastic necklace wi
th an enormous hollow cabbage from the Saint Patrick’s Day parade. Imogene slung it around her neck before Billy could get a good look at it.

  Neil chuckled and then finished by giving them another box of pralines, which Lena had insisted he take this morning, with a special message that Imogene come see her as soon as possible.

  “That’s a precious woman, that Lena Ward. I surely appreciate her.”

  Billy shot Jackson another look. Neil asked, “Why are you two so quiet?”

  Jackson reached into the suitcase. “We…rather, Imogene found a leather-bound journal in Glenway’s studio. It has some funny names in it, nicknames apparently.” He handed it to Neil.

  Neil thumbed through the book. “I’ve never seen this before.” He squinted and pulled at the ends of his mustache. “Catfish? Hmm.” Imogene winked at the boys triumphantly, as if Neil was on her side in finding that particular name worthy of special note and consideration. Billy rolled his eyes. Neil looked at the dog-eared pages. “Let’s see, Blue Moon…Canebrake… Buddy…Catfish again…TH...well…and Pirate. I don’t know what to make of all this.”

  “Why’d you say ‘TH…well’?” Billy asked. “Do you have a question about those ‘TH’ initials in particular?”

  Neil’s mustache quivered. “There’s just a lot of names there, really, not necessarily any in particular but the only one I know for sure is ‘Buddy’ because that’s who Glenway lives with…or was living with…” He appeared to be changing the focus from TH as quickly as possible. He flipped through the book, anxiously stopping at one page and then skipping to another. It didn’t look like he was reading the pages at all.

  Jackson and Billy watched him carefully. Neil glanced at them and smiled nervously. He yanked off his cap and scrubbed his head with it.

  “What do you see, Neil?” Jackson slid closer to him.

  “I see this book might really help us.” His eyes blinked several times.

  Imogene was ready to begin using all her new loot. “Hey, boys, how come y’all ain’t told Neil about the lawman Jackson just seen walkin’ into the hotel?”

  Neil slammed Glenway’s leather book on the bed. “What lawman? Lieutenant Rogers? He’s here...in this hotel? Since when? What’s he doing here?”

  “I couldn’t tell you, son. I kindly hoped you’d know.” Imogene’s eyes got big as she watched Neil’s anger erupt.

  “I’ll not stand for this type of harassment. I guarantee you he’s here because y’all are here.” He paced back and forth in front of the mirror above the chest of drawers. “No, no, no. This won’t do. No, it will NOT.” He popped the table with his cap. He looked as riled up as he’d been yesterday, and Jackson worried about him.

  “Excuse me for a moment.” Neil bolted for the door.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Jackson got up from the chair and grabbed the back of Neil’s button-up shirt.

  “No, Jackson, don’t try to stop me. He wouldn’t DARE arrest me twice in twenty-four hours.” Neil swung his arms as he headed for the door.

  Jackson gripped his arm. “You’re wrong. He’d do anything he wants, it seems.”

  Neil held his finger up for them all to stay put. He unfastened the locks and swung open the door.

  Imogene yelled, “You oughtn’t go by yourself.” She staggered to the entrance.

  Jackson heard Neil storming down the hall. “I’m not letting him go alone, but Imogene, you’re not coming with me.” Just as she approached, he slammed the door and took off in a sprint.

  Neil was pacing under the blinking floor numbers outside the elevator when Jackson caught up to him. “I’m going with you, bud.”

  Neil continued walking back and forth under the elevator, like he was obsessing over what to say and do to Rogers.

  “Neil, calm down, please. Just talk to me.”

  Neil threw his hands up as he looked at the elevator numbers. He marched over to the staircase, crashed into the exit, and flew down the steps, taking two at a time. The door closed shut on Jackson as he followed him.

  In a moment, Jackson flung himself into the lobby, panting from his little downhill sprint, and found Neil standing on the glassy tiled floors, scanning the place for Rogers. His friend stormed into the seating area, which boasted Italian leather furniture with dark wood trim. The lieutenant wasn’t there, so Neil checked the restaurant beside the lobby where guests were eating eggs Benedict and other delicacies from fine china resting on white linen table cloths. A hostess approached him, but he waved her away and left the restaurant. As he turned down the hall to the pool area, he ran into Jackson, who stayed a few steps back in order to keep up with Neil’s next move. “Don’t try to stop me, Jackson. I’m sick of this nonsense.”

  A door opened behind them and Lieutenant Rogers, all six and a half feet of him, stepped out, taking up the bulk of the hallway. He straightened his shirt and headed for the door to the courtyard.

  Neil brushed past Jackson, hurrying after Rogers, and as Jackson followed, he glimpsed a painting outside the hotel manager’s officer, a familiar painting with the familiar “GG” in the right corner. Glenway had created a scene of Carnival from the Endymion Krewe float passing on Canal Street. Children sat on the shoulders of their parents and adults clamored for the trinkets tossed out by the krewe members. A man painted in the likeness of Allen stood on the edge of the ladder with his hand open, ready to catch a Carnival throw.

  Jackson slowed down to look at the painting, just a few paces from Neil. The smallish hotel manager emerged from the office. He slicked his hair back six times, as if he was irritated with something besides his hair. His unibrow looked even fluffier in the morning light. His eyebrows, in fact, were so bushy that they almost looked fake. Hill took a step back and gave Jackson a curt once-over, staring at Jackson’s comfortable shoes and his rumpled shirt.

  Jackson saw Rogers hustling through the courtyard in something of a run-walk.

  Neil forced the door to the courtyard open as quickly as he could. Jackson ran through the open door and caught a glimpse of Rogers at the opposite corner of the courtyard, heading out through the side exit.

  They clopped along after him, reaching the door to the exit only moments after Rogers closed it. Neil led them down the side road that intersected Toulouse and yelled, “Lieutenant Rogers, what are you doing here, and why are you running away so quickly?”

  Rogers whipped around at the words. “Me? What are you doing here? I put you away last night.” Rogers crossed his arms, which gave him an even more menacing posture with his sharp elbows protruding out from his sides.

  “I told you I had friends on the city council. I’m surprised you haven’t received an official reprimand yet.” Neil slowed down only a few feet from Rogers. The lieutenant snorted.

  “It looks like you’ve followed my friends to the hotel.” Jackson waited nearby as Neil continued. “You better stop bothering them, or I promise I’ll call the city councilor again.” He pointed his bony finger at Rogers’s face, and Rogers raised one of his big hands as if to smack Neil. Rogers’s lips quivered as he leaned forward.

  “Are you going to hit me, Lieutenant?”

  The lieutenant gripped his own meaty biceps. “I wasn’t after your friends, but I’m glad to know where they are, just in case I have any questions. The boys and the old woman too?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t already know. And speaking of questions, we might have some ourselves after finding Glenway’s body yesterday. You never told us exactly why your name’s all over his calendar, Lieutenant.”

  Rogers balled his right fist and took a step forward. He didn’t speak, but Neil did. “All summer, Glenway’s been complaining about the theft of his carved figurines, the ones he makes from precious and semiprecious stones and turns into expensive pieces of art. They’ve become highly sought after...but why am I telling you this? Glenway already told you. And. You. Did. Nothing. Nothing at all. He told us how many times the police canceled appointments to meet with him about his m
issing work.” Neil gritted his teeth. “Your name was on Glenway’s calendar, so he obviously wanted to meet with you.”

  “Aww, he was exaggeratin’. I know the type Glenway Gilbert was. I have to deal with these rich chicken littles all the time. I looked into his complaint, but you yourself know Gilbert was a drunk and probably making up half his stories.” Rogers pulled his sunglasses down his sharp nose, a nose which reminded Jackson of a vulture’s beak.

  Neil lunged at him. “You will not talk about my friend that way, you ass.”

  Jackson ran to stop Neil from another attack, but Neil pushed Rogers anyway. The lieutenant pushed back, knocking Neil to the pavement. Jackson reached over to pick him up, but Neil wouldn’t let him. He jumped to his feet and rushed at Rogers again.

  “I know you’re up to something, Lieutenant, and I’ll find out what. Jackson here was looking through the window when you stormed into Glenway’s studio. He said you brought a duffel bag, and you were on site before the police had time to even process our call. You’re dirty as a swamp rat.”

  “Why don’t you stuff it before I throw your ass back in jail. You’re not squeaky clean yourself.” Rogers eyed Neil over the top of his sunglasses.

  Neil removed a small postcard-sized advertisement from his front pocket and showed it to Rogers. Rogers looked at the picture of Buddy painted as the Greek god Bacchus, the promotion for the art festival earlier in the summer.

  “Rather than arresting innocents like myself and following tourists who weren’t even in town during the time of the murder, why don’t you catch the person who killed Glenway?” Neil removed his golf cap as he stood up straight.