What Happened on Beale Street Page 15

  Her mouth dropped open. “Don’t you remember telling me I had ice water in my veins instead of blood like a real woman? After you called me foul names? I don’t want to walk to the park or anywhere else with you.”

  “Can’t you cut me some slack?” His voice rose in volume. “I was in a bad place then, but I’ve started going to church. I know that’s important to you. Don’t you believe people can change?”

  Suddenly the deli’s front door opened and a pack of noisy young women spilled onto the sidewalk. Bolstered by their proximity, Isabelle lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “I’m happy for you, but I’m not interested in chatting in the park or sharing a meal. I’m tired and I’m going home.”

  She tried to walk around him, but he blocked her path, undaunted by the group of women. “I’m trying to be nice here, Belle, considering everything that’s happened.”

  Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your brother’s death, of course.” Tony feigned an expression of concern. “And I must say, your boss at Realty World is pretty heartless to make you wear that gaudy-colored blazer. Women should be allowed a period of mourning, don’t you think?”

  Isabelle almost snapped a retort about her clothes being none of his business until a more insidious thought came to mind. “How do you know about my brother?”

  Tony stretched his neck from side to side. “I must have seen the death notice in the paper.”

  “Few people check the obits, and it only appeared one day in the Memphis newspaper, not Germantown’s.”

  “My mother started me in the habit. If you don’t watch the death notices, you’ll never know when an old friend might need you. But you didn’t need much comforting, did you, Belle?” Markham’s muttered words held ill-concealed hostility.

  But Isabelle heard him loud and clear. “You were at Danny’s funeral? You didn’t even know my brother.”

  “But I know you, and I had such high hopes for us.” His lower lip protruded like a child having a tantrum.

  “Then you’re living in a dream world. Stay away from me, Tony. Don’t be concerned with the food I eat, or what I wear, or the places I go. I’m warning you.”

  “Or what?” he growled. “You’ll sic your new boyfriend on me? I thought you were a decent person. Your poor brother is barely cold in the grave, and you’re already hanging all over some rent-a-cop from Louisiana. Your parents would be ashamed. It’s a good thing they’re not here to see the spectacle you made of yourself at the funeral.”

  Isabelle stumbled back into a bike rack. Markham’s hand shot out to steady her, but she slapped it away as if it were a hornet ready to sting. “Leave me alone! If I see you near my condo or my office, I’m calling the cops.”

  “Oh, really? It’s not a crime to look at condos in your development, and Realty World is the largest agency in Germantown. I would love to live in the Glades. Besides, the police aren’t usually quick to believe floozies with bad reputations.”

  She wavered on her high heels. Then she sucked in a steadying breath and marched toward her car. Along the way she tossed her supper into a trash can. Her appetite had vanished the moment he’d mentioned his duplicate order. Engaging him in conversation had been a mistake. Discussions were only effective between reasonable and sane people. Tony was neither. Issuing threats had merely provoked him like a bully on the playground.

  What had she done to attract the attention of a madman? Trembling uncontrollably inside her vehicle, Isabelle watched him saunter to his SUV with his head held high. Tony cast a final glare in her direction, started the engine, and peeled down the street.

  Isabelle hated confrontations. Maybe that’s why she’d allowed Craig to manipulate her for so long. Briefly, she considered stopping by the Germantown Police Department, but much of what Markham said was true. It wasn’t against the law to frequent her favorite deli, or look for apartments in her neighborhood, or even attend a graveside service. His assertion that he hoped they would get back together was too close to the truth not to be believed.

  Remembering something Nicki had said, Isabelle jotted down the date, time, and description of Markham’s car in case she needed it. Then she punched in Nicki’s number, but disconnected before the other end rang. It was late. Nicki might already be in bed.

  She’d much rather call Nate, yet she couldn’t bring herself to take on the role of helpless female—a woman who remained aloof except when the situation warranted. She needed Nate. Not because he carried a licensed, registered weapon. Not because he had a working knowledge of the law, along with connections at the police department. And not because he was a big man who could put Tony Markham in his place. She needed a friend. A real friend, like Nicki had had in Danny. Something she had never had in her life.

  Once she was safely inside her condo, Isabelle closed the blinds, checked the doors and windows, placed a metal rod inside the patio door runner, and punched in Nate’s number. Just before the call went to voice mail she heard a deep, husky voice.

  “Hello? That you, Miss Andre? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Mr. Price. I-I hope I’m not calling too late, but I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Of course. What is it?” In the background she heard the unmistakable pop of an aluminum can.

  “Would you be my guest for dinner? I have questions and a few things I’m concerned about. How about tomorrow?”

  “How about tonight? I’m starving and could be there in less than thirty minutes.”

  “Do you mean right now?” she asked after a short hesitation.

  “Sorry. You’ve probably already eaten. Why don’t we make it tomorrow after—”

  “No, I haven’t eaten. Should I meet you, or would you mind picking me up?”

  “I don’t mind at all. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  After he hung up, Isabelle stared at the moonlight dancing on the wall from clerestory windows. Then she tucked the phone in her purse and pulled a chair next to the door. Why not eat with Nate tonight? After her confrontation with Markham, she wouldn’t get much sleep anyway.

  Thinking of a restaurant that stayed open twenty-four hours was easy. Figuring out how to dissolve her awkwardness with Nate Price would take every available moment she had until he arrived.

  SIXTEEN

  Nate wasn’t sure what got into him, but he had approximately twenty-five minutes to figure it out. Then he would have to face Isabelle, the chief character of his adolescent fantasies and the snooty sister of their dead client. Except maybe she wasn’t as arrogant as he’d originally assumed. Maybe a chilly exterior covered a lack of self-esteem and confidence. Isn’t that what the pseudo-psychology books claimed? Maybe Isabelle was just as clueless about how to make a good impression as he was.

  Maybe. Or maybe not.

  She’d surprised him when she’d agreed to have dinner tonight. Most women didn’t want a man to know their calendar was free and clear, but he didn’t have a limitless amount of time in town. Anything she wanted to discuss, whether related to Danny’s case or on a personal level, needed to happen quickly. Because as soon as he felt sure Marino had the right killer behind bars, he planned to put Memphis, birthplace of the blues and rock and roll, in his rearview mirror.

  Nate never could understand the cat-and-mouse shenanigans in dating. Or in anything else in life for that matter. He just learned a few years ago that a man wasn’t supposed to divulge his income, even if directly asked. And when a woman asked, “How do you like my haircut or new dress,” honesty was seldom the best policy. He also had trouble with the advice “never act like you care for someone until certain of her feelings.” It all seemed like a colossal waste of time.

  Maybe that’s why he was pushing thirty and still single.

  But Isabelle hadn’t called him to have dinner because she regretted snubbing him in high school. He’d heard fear in her voice. Something had happened, and Nate suspected it had something to do with Markham.


  Isabelle’s condo was on the second floor of the last building in her complex. Beyond the parking lot was a pond and then dense woods. Her shady street was the most private and the least secure in the development. Nate parked at the curb, flicked on his emergency flashers, and jogged up the walkway. But before he had a chance to ring the bell, Isabelle hurried out the door.

  “Looks like you’re as hungry as I am,” he said, pivoting on his heel.

  She smiled thinly. “A little, but I’m more eager to leave before someone spots us.”

  Her response caught him by surprise. “Is there a secret husband I should know about? You invited me out, remember?”

  Isabelle looked up and down the street before climbing into his car. “Of course I remember, and no, there’s no secret husband.” She hit the lock button before fastening her seat belt. “I found out tonight that Tony Markham has been following me.”

  “Tell me what happened.” Nate turned the key in the ignition.

  “I will, but let’s get out of here first.” She slouched down in the seat. “When you reach the main highway, turn left and head toward the mall. It will be around four miles on your left.”

  Nate complied, while Isabelle sat silent and motionless until away from her complex. Once they were surrounded by traffic, she explained running into Markham outside of Jack’s Deli.

  “It was no accident, Nate. Tony knew what I usually order. He said it’s easy to guess what women like best, but that’s ridiculous. The deli has a dozen options for salad on the menu, and no two female agents in my office ever order the same one.”

  “He’s stalking you, Miss Andre, and that’s against the law.”

  “Isabelle, please. I hope you’re not holding my initial rudeness against me.”

  “I hold nothing against you. After finding your brother on the riverbank, you were in shock.” Once again, he’d said exactly what was on his mind, a trait he must have picked up from Nicki.

  “It’s still no excuse for bad behavior, so I appreciate your understanding.”

  Nate squared and relaxed his shoulders. A knot of tension had formed where his neck met his spine. “Go on with your story, Isabelle.”

  “I think Tony has been following me because I don’t go to Jack’s any particular day of the week. He’d ordered the exact same food and then suggested we go to the park to eat.”

  Nate lifted an eyebrow. “And you said no?”

  “Yes, and he didn’t like it very much. He also said he’s looking for a condo in my neighborhood. And there’s not a single thing I can do about where he chooses to live.” Isabelle gripped the arm rest tightly.

  “True, but we can make sure he doesn’t come within twenty feet of you.”

  She peered out the window as though in a daze. “Oh, my. We’re at the mall already.”

  Nate turned into the landscaped entrance. “Which restaurant did you decide upon?”

  “Let’s eat at the Apple House. People go there at all hours.”

  “Don’t worry about Tony coming near you tonight. Not with me around.” Impulsively, Nate patted her forearm.

  Isabelle’s eyes shimmered with tears. “You don’t know what he’s like. He’s crazy, Nate. He talked about ‘when we were together’ and that ‘he’s hoping to get back with me.’ He and I were never together. He’s imagining a relationship that didn’t take place.”

  “That’s common among sociopaths.” Nate parked the car and turned to look at her. Common among sociopaths? Who had he become in the last fifteen minutes—Sigmund Freud?

  “His delusions make me very uncomfortable.” She exhaled her breath in a whoosh. “Tony said he’d changed and that he’d started going to church because it’s important to me. How does he know I attend church regularly?” The sophisticated real estate agent suddenly sounded like a little girl.

  “Because he’s been following you, just like you suspected, but that doesn’t mean we’re helpless to stop him. Let’s go have dinner before they start passing out breakfast menus. We’ll talk more inside.”

  Nate hopped out and walked around to her side of the car, feeling nothing but pure rage. He wanted to track down Markham and rearrange his face. Not very professional and not very Christian. He’d better control his emotions for his sake and hers. So instead he offered Isabelle his arm, and they walked in like characters from a Jane Austen novel.

  Inside the well-lit restaurant, surrounded by people of all ages, Isabelle seemed to relax. She ordered chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and iced tea. Comfort food. Nate glanced at the menu and decided on his usual cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke. After the waitress left with their order, Isabelle resumed her painful narrative.

  “He called me ‘Belle’ more than once, even though he knows I don’t like pet names and no one has ever called me that.”

  Nate resisted the impulse to revisit calling her ‘Izzy’ as he had done on the riverbank. “That’s simply another way he tries to feel connected to you. Don’t dwell on his antics. We must take steps to rid you of him before his behavior escalates.”

  Isabelle leaned back as the waitress delivered their beverages, her expression unchanged. “Tony knew that Danny was dead. He came to my brother’s funeral, but I never saw him. He said he read about it in the obits, but I don’t believe that. The death notice didn’t appear until that morning, more of a formality than anything. Everyone who needed to know already did.” She tried to sip her drink, but the glass slipped through her trembling fingers.

  Nate moved the glass away and wiped up the spill. “That psychopath watched you during the funeral? Tomorrow we’ll go to the Germantown police station, and you’ll tell them everything you told me. It should be enough for a restraining order.”

  A flicker of relief crossed her delicate features. “Thanks, Nate, for helping me through this, but you need to hear the rest.”

  Unfortunately, the waitress chose that moment to deliver their meals. How could the food be ready so fast? Did they have burgers and chicken fried steak waiting under heat lamps?

  Nate pushed his plate to the side. “I have all night. Tell me everything.”

  “Tony knows about you too. Or at least in his sick mind who he thinks you are in my life.” Isabelle didn’t meet his eyes. “He said he saw me… hanging… all over you at the funeral. He called you my boyfriend. And he said that my behavior would have made my parents ashamed. It sounded as though he knew my parents are gone and that I’m alone in the world.”

  “First of all, this is just more manipulation. You can’t let him get under your skin. Secondly, you’re not alone. You have Nicki and me. And we’re not leaving Memphis until you’re safe from this man.” Nate popped a French fry into his mouth.

  She pulled her plate of food closer, the aroma of grilled mushrooms and onions whetting her appetite. “You and Nicki can’t protect me forever. You have your own lives in New Orleans.”

  Nate added a liberal amount of catsup to his burger. “True, but you can always pack up and move to the Crescent City. New Orleans could use a little class.”

  Isabelle laughed, maybe for the first time that evening. “That sounds more appealing than you know, but my job is here.” She cut up her chicken patty and ate a piece.

  “Then we won’t get ahead of ourselves. For now, let’s eat. Tomorrow I’ll take you to get that restraining order. Someday this will be behind you. I won’t say you’ll laugh, because there’s nothing funny about this, but it will be over.”

  She reached for his hand a second time. “You have no idea how good it feels to have a friend.”

  He nodded and bit into his sandwich. After the comment about being her boyfriend, coming up with an appropriate reply was beyond his ability.

  After Nate walked her to her door and said goodnight, he couldn’t bring himself to actually leave her neighborhood. For a while he cruised the streets and then parked down the block in the shadows under a tree. He didn’t like the idea of Markham stalking her, even though someone migh
t accuse him of the same thing. Finally, he called Germantown police and asked that her home be put on their regular patrol as a professional courtesy. Once he spotted a squad car drive by her building, Nate returned to the Carlton, exhausted.

  Nicki would describe him as smitten, but what he really had was a bad feeling in his gut.

  The next morning, Nicki called for room service. The pizza she’d had delivered for supper last night was long gone. Today she would treat herself to a pot of coffee, croissants, and a fruit cup. Later on she would pick up English muffins, Swiss cheese, and a bag of oranges from the grocery store. She refused to pamper herself on Hunter’s tab. She was here for work, whether or not her cousin needed her help.

  Nate hadn’t returned to the hotel last night before she fell asleep, and he still wasn’t responding to her texts. Instead of stomping her foot like a woman—Nate’s favorite expression—or wasting energy feeling sorry for herself, Nicki got busy with her own case. By the time they brought up her continental breakfast, she had narrowed her search for the correct Koehler among the era’s rich and famous.

  A Blake Koehler had owned a chain of furniture stores in Fayette, Tipton, and Shelby Counties, and in northern Mississippi during the fifties, sixties, and seventies. He sounded like an excellent possibility for the winner for the 1956 scavenger hunt. But after Mrs. Grant’s less than warm reception in her garden, Nicki decided to be sure. A quick phone call to the hotel’s favorite bellman might just do the trick.

  “Hello, Mr. Prescott? This is Nicki Price. We met on the tour of the Carlton Hotel and then I came to see you last week.”

  Two or three seconds passed before he said, “Who?”

  So much for leaving a memorable impression. Then Nicki recalled that almost every time she phoned her grandparents, their initial response duplicated Mr. Prescott’s. Remembering to slow down, speak loudly, and enunciate clearly, she repeated her introduction and waited for the tumblers to fall into place.