What Happened on Beale Street Read online

  “I was born hungry, so I hope you have something in that backpack other than granola bars.”

  “I know exactly whom I’m feeding today.” Isabelle found a flat grassy spot and shook out a large checkered towel. “How about sandwiches, sliced peaches, pretzels, and peach-flavored tea?” She plopped down in the grass and spread out the food. For several minutes, Nate praised her turkey and Swiss, and she accepted his compliments graciously. Then their conversation took an unexpected turn.

  “You’re not the only one whose parents left a mark on her life,” he said. “Without intending to, my father created a difficult situation between Nicki and me and the rest of my family.” Nate focused on canoes in the distance. “Dad covered up the truth about how Nicki’s father died to protect my brother, Sean. Recently, Nicki dug up the past to solve her father’s homicide, a seventeen-year cold case. She didn’t want his killers to get away with murder.”

  “How does Nicki get along with her uncle now?”

  “My dad died of cancer a few years ago, taking his secrets to the grave.”

  “Did you know, Nate?” Isabelle broke a pretzel into pieces.

  He met her eye before answering. “No, and Sean was only eight at the time. But every time Nicki mentions her father, I remember that mine let Uncle Kermit’s killer go free for a long time. See what I mean about parents scarring us forever?”

  “I would say we’re both lucky to have Nicki in our lives.”

  Nate finished the rest of his sandwich. “As cousins go, she’s not bad, but that’s enough sad stories for one day. I say we mount up and ride.”

  Isabelle repacked the leftovers and ran toward her bike. “It’s time for me to show you where the buffalo roam. Then we’ll take a scenic shortcut back to the Germantown trailhead. I have plans for later, so conserve your energy.”

  After they returned their bikes, Nate pestered her with questions as to where they were going next. Finally, on the way back she relented. “We’re headed to the Beale Street Landing. We’ll stop at my condo so I can wash up and grab a sweater. Then we’ll stop at the Carlton for your jacket. It might get chilly on the river tonight.”

  Nate’s head snapped around. “Are we really floating down the Mississippi? I think we’ll need more sandwiches.”

  “How does pulled pork, grilled chicken, sweet corn, and apple pie sound? We’re taking the Memphis Queen III instead of a raft. They’ll even have a live band for dancing under the stars. Are you up for that much fun?”

  “I’m not sure. It sounds awfully romantic. How will we manage slow dancing with only hooked pinkies?”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “You’re incorrigible. Do you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  When they got back to her condo, Nate slouched down in the seat, pretending to nap. “I’ll wait for you here. I’m saving my energy for tonight.”

  Isabelle ran upstairs to wash and change clothes, but she couldn’t stop grinning the entire time she was gone. What was the matter with her? Either she’d hit her head when she fell or the unthinkable was happening. She was really starting to like Nate Price.

  Nate’s stop at the Carlton was equally brief. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged wearing a fresh shirt and carrying a Saints jacket. “I left a note for Nicki and Hunter to join us if they get back in time. According to her message, they went to see the former bellman of the hotel. Nicki won’t rest until she discovers what happened to those people sixty years ago.”

  “I love her perseverance.”

  “She may solve her case before I solve your brother’s.” Nate sighed wearily. “My latest lead with yet another sax player didn’t pan out. Detective Marino left a message too. He just released Tito Sullivan after the soundman confirmed his alibi.”

  Mustering her courage, Isabelle placed her hand over his on the console. “Let’s not talk about the case. I want us to relax tonight.”

  Nate’s smiled. “Then that’s what we shall do.”

  At the landing they sipped cool drinks and watched boats on the river until it was time to board the ship. They talked about work and play, friends and family, Nashville and Natchez and Memphis. But they didn’t discuss Tony Markham or Tito Sullivan or even her brother. Just for one night, Isabelle forgot she was alone in the world, barely keeping her financial head above water, and being stalked by a madman. She and Nate strolled the deck, ate deliciously fattening food, danced under the stars, and enjoyed each other’s company. And when he walked her to her door at the end of the evening, Isabelle reached for his hand.

  Nate paused on the sidewalk. “Are you sure about this, Miss Andre?” he asked, tightening his grip. “You’re making quite a leap.”

  “Sometimes a girl has to throw caution to the wind, or she’ll risk missing the good things in life. And I think it’s time you called me Izzy. If you want to, that is.”

  “I seem to have leaped a tall building and crossed a sea full of crocodiles, all within two weeks.”

  She didn’t need a mirror to know she was blushing. “You must think I’m hopelessly neurotic.”

  “Not anymore. I think you’re downright sociable, along with being very pretty. But we better say good night before I do something stupid and try to kiss you.”

  Isabelle felt her blush deepen as she closed her eyes and waited to be kissed. But when she opened her eyes, Nate was getting into his car.

  “Goodnight, Izzy,” he called. “Thanks for the best day I’ve had since the Bulldogs won the division championship for Mississippi State.”

  Nate drove back to the hotel barely aware of traffic, songs on the radio, or parking next to Nicki’s Lincoln in the garage. His mind was on Isabelle Andre… Izzy. He didn’t know how they would manage long-distance dating, but a relationship was exactly what he wanted. He was so distracted he didn’t notice someone close to the elevator until he was a few yards away.

  “Man, you are lucky I’m not a mugger, Price. I could’ve whacked you on the head and lifted your wallet before you knew what happened.”

  Nate’s attention jerked back to the here and now. “Hey, Marino, how’s it going?”

  The detective pushed the button and squinted his eyes. “I don’t have to ask where you’ve been all day. The stupid grin on your face, the la-la-land attitude—I’d say you were with Isabelle Andre.”

  “Guilty as charged. We spent the day seeing the sights of Memphis. Your city has a lot more to offer than I imagined.”

  Marino tossed his cigarette down on the concrete when the elevator door opened. “Yeah, I figured you two were getting cozy. I called her a couple times, but she gave me the cold shoulder. When I asked her to spell it out, she said she had recently met someone. I figured it was you.”

  “You win some and you lose some, old buddy.” Nate made every effort to sound pleasant, even though he didn’t want to discuss Isabelle.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t come to talk about chicks.” Marino’s tone underscored his change in mood. “Why don’t you buy me a beer inside your swanky hotel while I spell out a few things for you, old buddy.”

  As they strolled into the lobby from the back entrance, Nate nodded at the employees who had grown familiar to him. They headed to the ornate mahogany bar in the center of the courtyard where guests could sip libations or enjoy a snack near the fountain and fishpond.

  “This place looks like something straight from the Roaring Twenties,” said Marino, sliding onto an upholstered barstool. “I almost expect to see Al Capone walk in with his machine gun.”

  “I hope there will be no gunplay tonight.” Nate signaled to the bartender. “Pick your poison.”

  “I’ll have a draught Budweiser.” Marino said, with his attention locked on a pair of attractive women at a bistro table.

  “Same for me.” Nate waited until the bartender delivered their drinks before he turned to his college pal. “So you have a bone to pick with me?”

  Marino swiveled around to face him. “I’ll make it short and sweet
. Stop sticking your nose in my case. You ain’t a cop, Nate, let alone a homicide detective, and this sure ain’t New Orleans.” He tipped up the mug and drank several swallows.

  Nate considered his next words carefully. He wasn’t worried about their future friendship, but Marino had the power to hobble him while he was in Memphis. “Sorry, Chip. I’m just trying to help. I know you have a heavy caseload, and Danny was my friend. That’s all. Any update you can give me I would appreciate.”

  “Like I said in my message, Crane came to see me. His memory about the day Danny died seems to have miraculously returned. He confirmed that Tito Sullivan spent the night in the sound room. Then he said you assured him I wouldn’t jam him up with management at the Blues City Club.” Marino wrapped his fingers around the frosty stein. “Where do you get off making promises like that?”

  Nate sipped his beer, grateful it wasn’t one of those dark, heavy microbrews that tasted like medicine. “I knew he was lying. I made the promise so he would come clean. I also knew you wouldn’t want the wrong man rotting in jail while the killer goes free.”

  Marino pulled over a bowl of mixed nuts and poured some into his palm. “You’re lucky I’m a nice guy, Price. Some cops would run you out of town.”

  Nate laughed, yet he had no idea if Marino was joking or not. “What about Tito Sullivan?”

  “Since you have a big heart for ex-addicts, you’ll be happy to hear the DA dropped all charges. I personally drove Tito home after I bought him lunch at Kurtz’s Deli. I’ll bet that was the first time he ate inside the joint instead of in the alley.” Marino snickered in adolescent fashion. “I no longer thought Sullivan was our man, but I liked having him locked up for a while. Tito had a place to sleep and three meals a day. In the meantime, the real bad guy might lower his guard and say or do something stupid.”

  Nate studied the detective. “Should I tell you what I learned? Or will it give you a reason to run me out of town?”

  “Oh, I know what you’ve been up to.” Marino finished the mug and gestured for a refill. “I have been one step behind you for days now. You sure got a bug about the killer being another musician, don’t you? You’ve gotten under quite a few collars on Beale Street.”

  “Innocent people have nothing to worry about.”

  “Nobody is all that innocent.” Marino stared at his reflection in the ornate mirror behind the rows of bottles. “So we know it wasn’t Leon Perkins, because he has a solid alibi. And Jimmy Watts may have hated Danny’s guts, but he was in jail at the time. Although I should have arrested him for a total lack of personality. Let’s see. The last I heard you were headed to the Winston Arms to see Sam Jessup.”

  “You have been following me.”

  “Like a bloodhound on the trail, not that it was my choice. So what did you find out? Did Jessup throw himself at your feet and confess?”

  “No.” Nate poured himself a handful of nuts. “Danny helped Sam get a job in St. Louis. So that takes away any kind of motive. Jessup liked Danny, and he seemed like a nice guy too.”

  “Three sax players later and you’re out of suspects, right?”

  Nate hated to admit the truth, but the detective was right. “I was sure it was some kind of rivalry among musicians.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing. That’s why I didn’t clip your wings sooner. But now you’re starting to annoy people. And annoyed musicians clam up worse than run-of-the-mill folks. I’m not done with the jealousy angle, but let me do my job. Don’t muddy the waters any more than they already are.” Marino swallowed another mouthful and pushed away his mug. “Thanks for the brew, but I gotta run. I am worn out, and tomorrow I have a date with a supermodel, so you can keep your black-haired, green-eyed real estate agent.” He jumped to his feet.

  “Good luck with that, and thanks for keeping me in the loop about the case. But do me a favor and keep life copacetic for Gus Crane.”

  “No problem. A soundman sees plenty up in his booth. You never know when that might come in handy. And, hey,” he pointed at the bowl of mixed nuts, “don’t think this gets you off the hook for ribs down the road. That night is going to cost you plenty.” Marino laughed much too loudly for a bar in a five-star hotel as he strode toward the door.

  Nate sat for several minutes contemplating a man he hadn’t really known in years, if at all. Had Marino been following the same leads? Was he really planning to drop charges against Tito Sullivan even before Gus’s confession? As cases went, Nate felt he wasn’t any further forward on this one than he was the first day he landed in Memphis.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Isabelle contemplated burying her head beneath the pillow and skipping church. What an exhausting day yesterday had been, considering how far they had pedaled in the park and how long they had danced on the riverboat. Neither of them had wanted to sit down for a single number that the band played. It had been after midnight when Nate dropped her off at her front door and after one before she’d calmed down enough to sleep.

  Never before had she enjoyed herself so much.

  Never before had she felt this way about a man. She never sang along with the band or danced cheek-to-cheek while married to Craig. Her ex-husband had been buttoned-up in public while living in some high-rolling fast lane behind her back. At long last, maybe she’d found someone to love and someone who could love her, which provided plenty of incentive to go to church and give thanks.

  Throwing back the covers, Isabelle turned on the coffeemaker and headed to the shower. Forty minutes and three cups of coffee later, she ran up the steps of Germantown United Methodist. Inside, the congregation was already singing the opening hymn as the choir entered the sanctuary from a side door. Isabelle crept along a side wall, but she couldn’t find an empty seat until she was three-quarters up the aisle. Her mother always joked that sinners sat in the back to keep a low profile. Whenever she asked her mom, “Aren’t all Christians sinners?” her mother would laugh heartily. “Yep. That’s why if you’re late, the only empty seats are up front.”

  Squeezing in next to a family of four, Isabelle reached for a hymnal to join in. After announcements, an update on missions, and the Scripture reading, the pastor launched into his sermon. His message about stepping out in faith contained special meaning for her. How many times had she shrunk in fear? How often had she been reluctant to attend parties by herself or volunteer for projects or committees? She had been afraid others would see her as inexperienced, ineffective, or simply alone. Why had she given the opinions of others so much power over her?

  When the service concluded, Isabelle joined the throng in the center aisle, wishing she had invited Nate to join her. Not only would he have liked the message, but they could have gone to breakfast and then back to Shelby Farms for a leisurely stroll through the woods. Maybe if they spent more time together, Nate would forget about going back to New Orleans. After all, he wasn’t a Louisiana native. He hailed from the river delta of Mississippi, the same as her.

  “Good morning, Belle,” a voice called out, interrupting her woolgathering.

  Stumbling on the church’s stone steps, Isabelle caught the metal handrail in the nick of time. She scanned the crowd and spotted Tony thirty feet away. He stood beneath the shade of an ancient live oak, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.

  “What are you doing here?” She closed the distance between them, not eager to share her shame with her fellow parishioners. “My restraining order requires you to stay away from me.”

  He shrugged as though a helpless victim of circumstances. “Hey, you’re the one who approached me. I told you long ago I was moving to Germantown, and this is the only UMC in town. Since I was raised Methodist, why wouldn’t I attend this lovely church?” His gaze lifted toward the steeple and cross high overhead.

  “I don’t believe you were brought up anything, Tony. You probably crawled from beneath a rock or the sludge from the river bottom.” Isabelle hissed rather than spoke the words.

  His features registered surp
rise along with something more insidious. “There’s no need to get nasty. The preacher’s words of love and forgiveness seemed to have gone over your head. Maybe you had something else on your mind.”

  “There’s another Methodist Church in Collierville. I suggest you start going there. Because if I see you here again, I’ll file a police report and have you arrested.” Isabelle lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to succumb to fear. Showing weakness to this man would only fuel his obsession.

  But instead of slinking away, he inched closer. “Are you threatening me, Belle? Because if you are, I suggest you think long and hard about this before you report any alleged infractions to the police.” He brushed a piece of lint from his sport coat. “Let’s suppose some of these holier-than-thou folks are willing to sign statements that I ventured into your sacred zone.” He flourished his hand in a circular motion. “I might be arrested and thrown in jail, but do you think that worries me?”

  “It should. A man like you wouldn’t like being surrounded by other bullies.” Isabelle mustered every bit of gumption she had.

  A smile pulled his lips into a thin line. “My attorney will post bail, and I will be released within a few hours, a day at the most. In the meantime, you will have pissed me off royally.” He leaned closer. “That stupid TRO covers you, Miss High-and-Mighty, not your friends.”

  “What do you mean?” She asked the question while already knowing the answer.

  “Consider your old pal Nicki Price. I’ve seen her walking down the street texting on her phone or reading a brochure and not watching where she’s going. She could step off a curb and never know what hit her. Splat,” he enunciated, slapping his hands together. “Half the time that bubblehead leaves her car unlocked, yet she never checks the backseat before getting in.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Sometimes she drives to the country on lonely back roads, getting lost more often than not. What if she got a flat? Who knows what could happen before Triple-A comes to change her tire?”