What Happened on Beale Street
BOOKS BY MARY ELLIS
SECRETS OF THE SOUTH MYSTERIES
Midnight on the Mississippi
What Happened on Beale Street
Magnolia Moonlight
CIVIL WAR HEROINES
The Quaker and the Rebel
The Lady and the Officer
THE NEW BEGINNINGS SERIES
Living in Harmony
Love Comes to Paradise
A Little Bit of Charm
THE WAYNE COUNTY SERIES
Abigail’s New Hope
A Marriage for Meghan
THE MILLER FAMILY SERIES
A Widow’s Hope
Never Far from Home
The Way to a Man’s Heart
STANDALONES
Sarah’s Christmas Miracle
An Amish Family Reunion
A Plain Man
The Last Heiress
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Cover by Lucas Art and Design
Cover photos © Dave G. Houser / Corbis; grynold / Masterfile
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
WHAT HAPPENED ON BEALE STREET
Copyright © 2016 by Mary Ellis
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ellis, Mary, author.
What happened on Beale Street / Mary Ellis.
pages; cm. – (Secrets of the South mysteries; book 2)
ISBN 978-0-7369-6171-4 (softcover)
ISBN 978-0-7369-6172-1 (eBook)
I. Title.
PS3626.E36W48 2016
813'.6–dc23
2015027110
All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Riley B. King, known professionally as B.B. King, who died on May 14, 2015, just as I was finishing this book.
Mr. King was a Blues Hall of Fame singer, songwriter, and extraordinary guitarist who will be missed by lovers of the blues everywhere.
The thrill is gone with your passing.
Contents
Books by Mary Ellis
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Midnight on the Mississippi
Magnolia Moonlight
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Dale Canter, retired Chief of Police for the cities of Maple Heights, Moreland Hills, and Richfield, Ohio, for assistance with police procedures. Without your professional help, my story would be even more fictional than it already is.
Thanks to the helpful guides at the Mississippi Blues Trail Museum and lovely Peabody Hotel in downtown Memphis. Your hospitality is legendary. Although my tale about the Carlton jewels is purely a figment of my imagination, I found inspiration walking the halls and hanging out in your gorgeous lobby. Love those ducks!
Thanks to Memphis writer pals Johnnie Alexander and Patricia Bradley for your help, and also the Wayne County Writers’ Guild, especially Ruth, Bobbie, Christina, Darrell, Cyndi, and Kira, for brainstorming the subplot with me.
Thanks to my dear friends Pete and Donna Taylor, and my husband, Ken, who allowed me to experience the city of Memphis in all its glory. Researching with friends and family is so much more fun.
Thanks to my agent, Mary Sue Seymour; my lovely proofreader, Joycelyn Sullivan; my editor, Kim Moore; and the wonderful staff at Harvest House Publishers. Where would I be without your hard work?
ONE
New Orleans
Nicki Price opened one eye to find an irate face looming over her in the dark room.
“Why do you pay a phone bill if you refuse to answer the thing?” Her roommate slapped the phone down on Nicki’s solar plexus, none too gently.
“I do pick up when people call during daylight hours.” Letting her cell fall to the floor, Nicki turned over and snuggled deeper under her covers.
Chloe Galen plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Nic, you’re a partner in a big-time PI agency. You need to be ready for adventure twenty-four-seven.”
“Spoken like a true artist-in-residence, who paints solely when the creative impulse strikes but under no circumstances before noon. Besides, Price Investigations is not a big-time agency. I work for my cousin for chump change.” Nicki tried to bump Chloe off the bed with her hip. “Isn’t it the middle of the night? Why are you still up?”
“Because whenever I doze off, your stupid phone wakes me up. How can you stand the theme song from a TV Western for a ringtone? If you don’t answer the next time it rings, I’m coming back with a bucket of cold water.” Chloe picked the phone from the rug and handed it to her friend just as it began its annoying tune again as though on cue.
Nicki sat upright and kicked the tangled covers to the foot of her bed. “Hello?” she demanded crossly. “Whoever you are, do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Nicki?” A familiar voice on the other end sounded distant. “It’s Danny Andre.”
“Danny. I would recognize your Barry White imitation underwater.” Nicki changed her tone as every trace of sleepiness vanished. “How are you? Where are you? I heard you moved to the big city to seek fame and fortune. I have major news too—a new job, cool apartment, and a real live fee-ahn-say.” She couldn’t help grinning as she said that last bit.
“That’s great, Nic. I’m happy for you,” he said. But the subsequent moments of silence didn’t convey much enthusiasm.
Nicki’s smile vanished from her face. “Hey, what’s going on? I don’t hear anything from you for months, and then you call in the middle of the night?”
“Sorry about that. I keep forgetting normal people keep normal hours.”
“Forget about normal. What’s wrong, Danny?”
“Anything I can do?” Chloe whispered. She was lingering in the doorway.
Nicki shook her head as she dug through her nightstand for pen and paper.
“Remember our promise that we’d be able to tell each other anything? I didn’t know who else to call since my sister has had enough of me lately. This might send Isabelle around the bend.” His laugh sounded hollow.
The fact that her childhood best friend resurrected a playground pledge sent a chill through Nicki’s veins. “Of course I remember. Nothing has changed, so spill your guts. What did you do? Knock over the Natchez Savings and Loan? Why not hide out in New Orleans? Providing you dress like a tourist, no one will find you in the French Quarter.”
Her jest fell short of its mark, while the sound of his labored breathing tied Nicki’s gut into knots. “Danny, please say something. You’re scaring me.”
“Then that makes two of us. I’m in real trouble, Nicki. I got myself into a mess.”
She closed her eyes, trying to rectify his pleas with her best friend from the sixth grade until their high school graduation. Danny Andre was the sweetest guy she knew. Everyone liked him, from their Sunday school teacher to the surly old man who kept every ball that landed in his yard. Even her mother liked him, despite insulting every other male that crossed the Price threshold. Danny was more diplomatic than a Swiss banker and twice as generous.
“How much trouble can someone get into playing a saxophone in a Memphis orchestra?” she asked.
“I play in blues clubs where I pick up gigs and fill in for regulars. My job is a far cry from the New York Philharmonic.”
“What? Your granny told you to stay out of the bars when you left town.” Nicki waited for a sarcastic retort, but she heard the sound of muffled sobs instead. “Sorry. No more bad jokes. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Could you come to Memphis? Maybe bring your cousin and that new fiancé of yours? Bring some of his friends too. The more the merrier.”
Unfortunately, she hesitated a second too long. “Sure. Hunter and I will drive up as soon as he’s done testifying in court. Shouldn’t be more than a few days. I would love to see Memphis as soon as he can break away. I’ll check if Nate can—”
“I’m sorry, Nic. How stupid of me to think you could drop everything and hightail it upriver. We ain’t in the seventh grade anymore. Let’s get together when things calm down for Hunter. I’ll call you.”
“Wait, Danny! Give me your address and I’ll come this weekend even if Hunter can’t. I’m not too busy for my friend—”
But he had already hung up.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Chloe.
Nicki turned to face her future sister-in-law. “I have no idea. I’m obviously terrible at crisis intervention. If somebody was out on the ledge contemplating suicide, I’d probably ask them to wait till after my pedicure.” She put her face in her hands and groaned.
“Give yourself a break. It’s hard to be Johnny-on-the-spot at two o’clock in the morning.” Chloe walked over to the bed and bent to give her friend a hug. “Who is this Danny person? Does my brother have something to worry about? I know for a fact Hunter is crazy about you, ‘crazy’ being the operative word.”
Because trying to get back to sleep would be a fruitless endeavor, Nicki got out of bed, slipped into her robe, and then padded to the coffeemaker in the kitchen. “Danny Andre was the only person in high school who didn’t think me weird during a weird period of my life.”
“An old boyfriend from your misguided youth rears his head?” Chloe perched on a tall kitchen stool.
“Not a boyfriend, just a friend. Danny is in trouble, but I was too busy explaining how great things were for me to help him.”
Chloe’s expression softened. “What kind of trouble? IRS liens, problem with the musicians’ union, advice for the lovelorn? Hunter could help with the first, Nate the second, and I’m your girl for the third.”
Nicki released an exasperated sigh. “I have no idea. He hung up too fast. I need to get to Memphis ASAP. Danny wouldn’t have called unless it was serious.” As soon as she swallowed a mouthful of reheated coffee, she punched in his number. The call went straight to voice mail.
“Do you know where he lives in Memphis?”
“Nope.”
“Yet you’re going to jump on a plane.”
“Yep. He and Christine Hall were my closest friends. Danny refused to ask someone to our prom so we could go as a pack of nerds. Now that Christine is dead, I need to step up to the plate.” Nicki poured coffee into a travel mug.
“What about your job?”
“PI work isn’t like being a bank teller, Chloe. Nate and I have to wait for clients to hire us.”
“Do you plan on telling my brother where you’re going?”
Nicki stopped fussing with sugar packets. “Of course I will, but I don’t want to call him until the sun is up. One of us should get a decent night’s sleep. Until then I’ll take a shower and pack a bag. The more I replay the conversation with Danny, the more I think I shouldn’t waste time.”
With that she walked back to her room and into the bathroom, curtailing Chloe’s questions. Steam soon enveloped her in a moist cocoon, but Nicki found no solace. The fear in Danny’s voice echoed in her ears. Why had she been so blithe, so careless with his request? It wasn’t as if he pestered her with one demand after another.
By the time she was dressed and had dried her hair into a mane of curls, the love of her life had arrived. Hunter Galen was sipping coffee at the table when she walked back into the kitchen.
“Rumor has it you and I are going to Memphis. It’s one of my favorite cities—birthplace of the blues and home of the tastiest barbecue in the South.” Hunter smacked his lips and reached for her hand. “Good morning, my love.”
Nicki threw her arms around him while scowling at her roommate over his shoulder. Chloe simply shrugged and offered her an adorable smile.
“What are you doing here, sweet man?” Nicki kissed the top of Hunter’s head, his hair still damp from a shower. “You have a big day ahead of you. Your busybody sister must have forgotten you have to testify in court or bad people will get away with murder.”
Chloe placed a cup of coffee on the table and slunk from the room.
“I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Hunter tightened his arms around her waist. “What’s up with your friend? Is this the knight who rescued you from a snake-infested island? Nate said the guy swam out from shore to carry you back in a pirogue.”
“You already called my cousin?”
“Yes, on my way here. I needed to know about any rascal who would invite you to visit at two a.m.”
“I’m going to slap your sister silly,” Nicki fumed.
“I’d pay a dollar to watch, but first tell me the story about snake island.” Hunter kneaded her back with his long fingers.
“Nate and his pals stranded me in the middle of a swamp without a pole or oars. I couldn’t use my hands for paddles because gators live in that water. My cousin planned to return when the moon rose. Danny heard about their prank at the Dairy Queen and rescued me first. But he certainly didn’t swim. He paddled out in another pirogue and towed mine back. My, how stories change with each retelling.”
“I would love to meet so brave a hero.”
Nicki buried her face into Hunter’s starched shirt, trying to forget the panic in Danny’s voice. “I can count on one hand the times Danny asked me for anything. Today he gave me a chance to even the score, and what did I do? Rambled on about how great life is ever since I found true love. How could I be so self-centered?”
“Chloe said he woke you up from a dead sleep.”
“If you heard how scared he sounded, Hunter, you wouldn’t make excuses for me.”
“I would make excuses for you even strapped to a rack beneath a pendulum blade.”
Nicki pulled away. “Something bad has happened. I need to go to Memphis but haven’t decided whether to drive or fly.”
“No, sweet man. Thank you, but you don’t want to annoy the judge. Besides I’m a licensed PI, equipped to swim through whatever snake-infested waters Memphis has.” Nicki reached for her shoulder holster and Beretta from the shelf above the stove.
“Have you ever been to Memphis, Nicolette? Have you spent time in the clubs and smoky after-hours dives where musicians congregate?”
“No, but Danny was a former choir boy at First Baptist Church of Natchez. I doubt he would hang out in those places.” She placed a bottle of water into her bag.
“People change. I’m sure singing gospel on Sunday mornings didn’t cause whatever trouble he’s in.”
Nicki pivoted to face him. “You need to be in court. I’ll do what I can and come back before you miss me.”
Hunter lifted her chin with one finger. “Humor me by asking Nate to go with you. Memphis is no place for a brand-new detective, male or female. Before I leave for court, I’ll arrange your flight, hotel, and have a rental car waiting at the airport. Please, cherie?”
Nicki grinned. “But Nate was the one who stranded me on that island, remember?”
“I remember. Rest assured that history won’t repeat itself in the Mississippi delta. And if you’ll be in Memphis for a while, I’ll fly up once I’m done testifying. I know some special places you will like.”
“You have a deal, Galen. Call the airlines while I finish packing. Then I’ll enjoy pressing Nate’s buzzer until he drags himself out of bed.”
However, when Nicki arrived at her cousin’s apartment, the door was ajar. Drawing her weapon, she crept inside, fully prepared for mayhem. But by the time her eyes adjusted to the dark, she heard the sound of water running in the bathroom and someone humming the Mississippi State fight song.
She inched her way to Nate’s bedroom, where a half dozen shirts and pairs of trousers had been strewn across the unmade bed. “Nate?” she called from the hallway. “It’s Nicki. Why is your door wide open?”
Her new business partner emerged from the bathroom dressed in jeans and a sport shirt. “Because Hunter called and said you were on your way. Give me another ten minutes and we can be off.” Nate took his gun from the nightstand drawer along with an extra clip of ammunition.