What Happened on Beale Street Page 26

  “Thank you, dear. It is horrible to lose those you love unexpectedly. After we heard about their accident, we abandoned the game and forgot all about the clues. But you’re correct. We had been given another silly poem at dinner. The Smithfields always had to be so clever—too clever for my amusement. The only detail I can remember was something about Dorothy McGuire, but I’m sure that name means nothing to you.”

  Remembering Mr. Koehler and his box of keepsakes, Nicki felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, ma’am.”

  “You are a nice young woman, Miss Price, for listening patiently to an old woman’s stories. Most people your age are too busy. And the people in my life have heard my stories many times before. But may I give you a little advice?”

  “Yes, of course.” Nicki forced her mind back to the present conversation.

  “Stop wasting your time on old memories—mine and Henry Prescott’s. Instead, make some wonderful new ones of your own. Where did you say you’re from?”

  “Mississippi, but my fiancé and I plan to make our home in New Orleans.”

  “Perfect! New Orleans has plenty of lovely hotels. Get your friends together for a yearly scavenger hunt.”

  Nicki giggled, thinking about her old college buddies. “None of my friends or even my fiancé can afford diamonds or Rolexes for prizes.”

  Mrs. Fitzhugh clucked her tongue. “Who says they need to be jewels? Why not a pair of tickets to a Saints game, or maybe a fishing charter on Lake Pontchartrain? Select things your friends would enjoy and everyone can afford. Forget about what the Smithfields hid that year. Somebody has undoubtedly found those diamonds long ago but was afraid they would have to give them back if they said anything.”

  “That’s what the concierge said, along with my fiancé and everyone else—except for Henry.”

  She laughed softly at that. “They could be right, but don’t think I’m trying to get rid of you. Please stay in touch, Miss Price. Let me know how you like married life. I might have a pointer or two for you and a great recipe for mac-and-cheese.”

  Isabelle had spent all of Sunday figuring out what to do about Tony. Several times she almost picked up the phone to call the Germantown Police Department. After all, she had a court order forcing him to keep his distance and not contact her via phone, email, or through the post office. He would be arrested and charged with aggravated stalking, a class C felony punishable by three to fifteen years in jail. But Tony was right. It wasn’t as though he would be thrown in a cell, denied bond until his trial, and given a life sentence without chance of parole.

  He would be released, probably much sooner than she could sell her condo, change her name, and relocate to a new city. Isn’t that what stalking victims were often forced to do? Disappear into new lives and never stop looking over their shoulder? Or, as Tony suggested, into the backseat of their car? Remembering his thinly veiled threat against Nicki kept her from reporting the violation of the TPO.

  He was right about Nicki too. After growing up in Red Haw, Mississippi, she was woefully naive. Spray-painted graffiti on billboards, mailbox bashing, and shoplifting at Rite Aid weren’t the same as urban crime. Of course evildoers could live anywhere, but Nicki was too trusting and too eager to believe the lies that people told. Nate, although far more worldly than his cousin, might lower his guard long enough to fall victim. Could she take that chance? Most people obeyed the law to avoid the consequences of crime, but someone as deranged as Tony had no barometer to keep their behavior in check. Isabelle couldn’t let her friends suffer because of her own poor judgment in picking dates.

  That Monday morning, the office phones rang constantly with buyers seeking specific amenities and sellers checking to see if any offers had come in over the weekend. Along with several walk-ins demanding to see homes listed on the website, Isabelle barely had time to drink her cold coffee before lunch. She appreciated the distraction of work, but when Janice appeared in her doorway, she welcomed the interruption.

  “What a morning, huh?” Janice opened her blinds, filling the room with sunlight.

  “You’re not kidding. Every buyer who checked the multiple listings or newspaper classifieds over the weekend wants to see the properties today.” Leaning back in her chair, Isabelle rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Mr. Price asked me to deliver a message. Apparently, he’s called your direct line and also left messages on your cell.” Janice gave a sly grin. “He says if he doesn’t hear from you soon, he’ll throw himself into the river and forget he knows how to swim. He can’t stand being ignored.”

  Nate’s ridiculous threat may have made her laugh if not for her heartbreaking decision. Now his persistence only made what she had to do harder. “Thank you for delivering his message. I’ll call him right now.”

  The receptionist stood by the window, as though hoping to listen in. When Isabelle remained motionless, phone in hand, Janice pushed off from the windowsill. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

  Once she had some privacy, Isabelle listened to Nate’s sweet messages on her voice mail. Then she dialed his number and held her breath.

  Nate picked up on the first ring. “Must I buy a house for you to take my calls, Miss Andre? What kind of girl dances with a fellow under the moonlight Saturday night, holds his hand, and then ignores him all day on Sunday? If you would have answered yesterday, we could’ve gone to the zoo with Hunter and Nicki. Did you know they have giant pandas?” He didn’t allow her time to get a single word in edgewise. “No, forget I mentioned that. I know you’re a nice girl who spent Sunday doing good deeds until the sun went down. And since you’re probably Realty World’s top producer, you’re up to your eyelashes with work today.” Nate paused to catch his breath.

  “I’m not the office’s top producer. I came in third last month.” Of all the things Isabelle could have said, she chose the most inane.

  “Even the third top saleswoman still needs to eat. Why don’t I come to Germantown and take you to lunch? Didn’t you tell me your favorite deli was nearby?”

  Jack’s Deli near Municipal Park—a place that Tony knows well. A shiver ran through Isabelle’s body. “No, Nate. I brought a sandwich to eat at my desk. Mondays are always crazy around here.”

  “Understood. How about dinner? Hunter went back to New Orleans, so why don’t we take Nicki out? She’s been dying to try Bleu, and that’s not a place where you dine alone.”

  “Then you should take her… without me.” Isabelle left her final words hanging in the air.

  A moment or two passed before he spoke. “Are you tied up with clients tonight? Nicki and I can wait until tomorrow since we’ll still be here. Hunter paid for another week for our rooms. He and I exchanged a few words about him footing the bill, but he insists he’s getting a great weekly rate, as though that has anything to do with it. If he wants to pay for Nicki’s suite, fine, but not mine.”

  Nate was not going to make this easy for her. “I’m sure you’ll work out the bill with Hunter. In the meantime, I think you and I should take a couple steps back.”

  “What?” Nate’s single word spoke volumes.

  Isabelle fought to keep her voice level. “In my opinion, our date got a little out-of-hand. Give me time to think this whole you-and-me idea through.”

  “What’s wrong, Isabelle? Did something happen with Markham? You didn’t think we were moving too fast on Saturday. You told me to call you Izzy, remember?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she lied. “And I certainly remember everything I said and did.”

  “Did I offend you in some way? I’m pretty rusty with dating etiquette, so don’t be afraid to point out my shortcomings.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” she snapped impatiently. “I just want us to take a break for a couple of weeks and then reevaluate our feelings.”

  “A couple of weeks? I have a lead that may crack Danny’s case wide open. So if it pans out, in a coupl
e of weeks I’ll be back in New Orleans while you’ll still be here in Memphis.” His tone betrayed his incredulity.

  “We both have email and cell phones, Nate. Louisiana isn’t Outer Mongolia if we’re meant to have a future together. So why don’t you tell me about your lead in Danny’s case?”

  An uncomfortable ten seconds spun out while Nate processed her bombshell. “I need a little time here. Why don’t I see if this tip pans out first? I’ll give you a call in a few days with an update.”

  “All right. That’s how we’ll leave it for now.” She couldn’t have sounded colder.

  “Goodbye, Isabelle.”

  The click of his disconnect sent a sharp pain between her ribs, but she saw no alternative. If she told him about Tony visiting her church, Nate would have made the decision for her. Wheels would be set into motion that could have disastrous consequences for people she loved. Tony was her problem, and she needed to take care of him once and for all.

  As a plan came together, Isabelle felt more empowered than she had in years, maybe in her life. She would stall Tony until her friends were back in New Orleans, out of harm’s way. Then she would set a trap and have him arrested for stalking and menacing. She could only hope that the DA would make a strong enough case to put him in jail for a long time. With Tony behind bars, she would tell Nate the truth. Maybe he wouldn’t want a relationship with a flighty nutcase like her, but it was the chance she had to take to keep him safe.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Nate pushed himself back from his laptop when the pounding on the door threatened the wood frame. “I’m coming!” he shouted.

  After he had swept open the door, Nicki strolled into his suite in a mint green sundress, canvas shoes, and a sunhat meant strictly for the beach. “Are you deaf or are both of your legs broken?” She headed straight for his mini refrigerator. “Got any soda?”

  “No,” Nate said briefly as he shut the door with his heel.

  Nicki grabbed a bottle of water and sat down on his sofa. “Wow, what an afternoon. I’m convinced the missing prizes are hidden near the fountain, but Mr. Prescott won’t let me drain the pond for proper examination. So I’m stuck going over these with a magnifying glass.”

  While she unrolled and spread out a stack of blueprints, Nate tried to recollect what Nicki had told him about the bellman’s theories. “So one of the scavenger hunts went unsolved?”

  “Yes. Well, Henry and I believe—are hoping, anyway—that the prizes remain where they were hidden in 1960.” Nicki lifted her focus from the blueprints. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are bloodshot.”

  Nate shook his head. “Of course not. Must be pollen in the air. Maybe ragweed.”

  She didn’t appear convinced. “I don’t remember your having allergies when we played hide-and-seek in the woods.”

  “I’m fine.” He picked up one of the drawings to hide behind. “Tell me what you discovered.”

  “Nothing from these blueprints. That’s why I’m seeing Mr. Koehler tomorrow at his nursing home.”

  “Who’s Mr. Koehler?” Nate dropped the blueprint atop the others.

  “Don’t you listen to a word I say? He was the winner of emerald cuff links in 1956. Hey, what time are we picking up Isabelle for dinner? I’m so anxious to try that place I’ve already put on my outfit.” Nicki stood and then held out the full skirt as she twirled in place. “Does this dress call for heels, or will my flats be okay?”

  “You look just fine, but it’ll be just you and me tonight, cousin. I hope you’re not disappointed.” Nate stared out the window, where rush hour traffic was picking up steam.

  “Is that why you’re down in the dumps? Because you didn’t see Izzy yesterday and you won’t see her tonight?” Nicki dropped her voice to a mournful whisper.

  “Who said I’m down in the dumps? I’ve been working all afternoon. I’m not here in Memphis for an appearance on The Bachelor.”

  Nicki marched over to where he stood and crossed her arms. “Spill your guts, Price. Did you two have a fight? Should I talk some sense into that woman? She can be so much like Danny.”

  Nate gently took hold of her arms. “Izzy wants us to take a break from each other. You and I will respect that decision and give her space. Please, Nicki, don’t interfere.”

  Her face finally registered the seriousness of the situation. “Okay. Whatever you say, but this doesn’t sound right to me. I know for a fact that—”

  “Stop. Whatever you knew is no longer the case. Let’s leave it at that.” Nate dropped her arms and walked back to the desk. “Pull up a chair. I need your natural PI instincts because I’ve run into a brick wall.”

  Nicki dragged over an upholstered chair. “You want my help with Danny’s murder?”

  “I do. I no longer think Danny’s killer is one of the Beale Street musicians. Leon Perkins was in Mobile with his family for a few days. Jimmy Watts was in county lockup when Danny died. And my last lead, Sam Jessup? He was hired for a permanent gig at the Hyatt Regency in St. Louis and is on his way there.”

  “Maybe the Hyatt originally wanted Danny for the spot.”

  “They did, but Danny didn’t want to leave Isabelle behind in Memphis, so he recommended Jessup and set up the interview. No motive there.”

  Nicki scratched her head while sorting out the details, much the way she did with the scavenger hunts. “What happened when you saw Tryone Biggs yesterday? Did he send you on another wild goose chase?”

  Nate recounted everything he learned from the guitar player about Danny’s girlfriend.

  Nicki’s eyes grew rounder the more he talked. “Danny was in love and he didn’t tell me?”

  “Apparently, it was a fairly new relationship. Men aren’t like women, Nicki. They wait until something concrete develops instead of posting on social media the moment something looks promising.”

  “Are we talking about you and Izzy again?”

  Nate cringed at his transparency. “No, I’m just telling you why Danny hadn’t shared his relationship yet. Since talking to Biggs, I called everyone I could think of who might have seen Danny and this woman at the Downunder. Everyone confirmed Biggs’s opinion—the mystery woman was in love with him. But Danny never introduced her, so nobody knows her name.”

  Nicki slapped her forehead. “She came to Danny’s funeral.”

  Nate jaw dropped open. “Are you certain?”

  “Who else could she have been? I saw her when I was talking to the funeral director, and, more importantly, Izzy spoke to her. Not for long, though. Just call Izzy. She might remember, or maybe the woman signed the guest book.”

  Nate couldn’t look at his cousin. “Do you think you could ask Izzy?”

  “Wow. You can’t even bring yourself to talk to her about Danny?”

  Nate hoped he didn’t appear as embarrassed as he felt. “She doesn’t want me to call her. She said she needs time to… think. I’m to get back to her after I track down this lead. If I can’t figure out any other way, I want you to ask her.”

  “Men sure have strange ways of dealing with romance problems.”

  “Izzy never allowed our relationship to advance to the romance stage,” said Nate, no longer caring about transparency or his embarrassment. He left her and moved back across the room to the window.

  Nicki followed him and slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Not to worry. Your old pal Detective Marino was there when that woman walked up to the car. Maybe he remembers her name.”

  Nate kissed the top of her head. “Thanks. As cousins go, you’re as good as they get. Why don’t you go put on high heels for that fancy restaurant? I’ll knock on your door right after I call Chip.”

  “Don’t take too long. I’m starving.” Nicki skipped to the door.

  After she left, Nate paced the room like a caged animal. As much as he wanted to call Isabelle, even if only to hear her voice, he couldn’t. He had no choice but to give her space. Funny, in high school when she re
buffed him, he had been angry. Now he felt nothing but sadness. It was time for him to solve Danny’s murder like he promised and go home… and the sooner the better.

  When he called Marino, Nate forced a carefree tone to his voice. “Hey, Chip, it’s Nate. I’m on my way out the door, but I needed to check with you about something.”

  “Like what I’m doing for dinner tonight? Smoked ribs and curly fries sure would slide down smooth.” The detective made a smacking sound with his lips.

  “That sounds good to me too, but I promised to take Nicki to Bleu tonight. And with their prices, I can’t afford both of you.”

  Marino whistled through his teeth. “Your cousin has expensive tastes, so I’ll catch you another time. What’s on your mind?”

  “Think back to Danny Andre’s funeral. Do you remember a woman who walked up to Isabelle? She might have been Danny’s girlfriend.”

  “You talking about the blonde with long legs? She wore a long raincoat, but underneath that skirt was a little short for a funeral, if you ask my opinion.” He emitted a rude noise.

  “That would be the one. Did you happen to catch her name?”

  “I did. After she paid her respects to Isabelle, I followed her back to her car. Later, I ran her plates. I make it my business to get the names of everybody who comes to a funeral in a murder investigation. You never know when something will turn out helpful. But I hope you’re not sticking your nose into my case. You know how I feel about that.”

  “No way. I learned my lesson. Now that some time has passed, Isabelle wants to reach out to her. Express her sympathy, but she doesn’t remember the woman’s name.” Nate regretted his lies but saw no alternative.

  “Hang on while I look it up.”

  Nate stared out the window while he listened to Chip flip pages.

  “Okay, found it. That lovely young lady was named Carlene Bradington. Are you sure you’re not the one who wants to express his condolences?”

  Nate snorted. “Not this time. Thanks, and I’ll be in touch about those ribs.”