What Happened on Beale Street Page 27

  On his way down the hall to Nicki’s suite, he uttered a simple, “Thank You, God.” If he was going to solve this case and move on with his life, he needed plenty of divine intervention.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  When the concierge arrived at his desk Tuesday morning, Nicki was waiting. “Hello, Mr. Prescott. I trust traffic wasn’t too onerous on your drive to work.”

  “Good morning, Miss Price. Traffic was no worse than usual. What is all this?” He gestured at the containers lined up neatly on his blotter.

  “Coffee, juice, and croissants from Starbucks on South Third Street. I thought we could have breakfast together before the crowds arrive.” Nicki scooted her chair closer. “Oh, dear. I hope you haven’t already eaten. Your grandfather said you usually have only coffee at home.”

  “Why am I not surprised you talked to Granddad already?” He shot his impeccable white cuffs and sat down. “This looks delicious. Tell me, did you enjoy dinner at Bleu last night? I trust the table I arranged was satisfactory for you and your partner, Mr. Price?”

  “It was the best in the house. And the food was wonderful. I had the grilled grouper, and Nate had the salmon roulade. But I’m really not his partner while we’re in Memphis. More like a thorn in his foot.”

  “I can’t fathom that.” Mr. Prescott chuckled softly behind his cup of coffee. “May I make reservations for you for this evening?”

  “No, thank you. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, which brings up my next topic of conversation.” She stirred two sugars and a cream into her cup. “Isn’t Tuesday the day you give the history of the hotel tour, and Henry sometimes has lunch with your daughter, Antoinette?”

  He smiled warmly at her. “Since you even remembered Toni’s name, I doubt you need much confirmation. But yes, unless she made other plans for her day off, Toni and Henry should be here around eleven.”

  Nicki finished her pastry and dabbed her mouth. “That’s what I thought. How do you feel about my taking Henry out to visit Mr. Koehler at his nursing home instead?” She decided not to mention Mr. Koehler’s memory impairment. “I can call ahead and arrange lunch trays for us so we can eat with him. People living in nursing homes don’t get anywhere near enough visitors.”

  The concierge cleaned crumbs from his blotter with a few quick swipes. “I’m well aware of that, but you can’t manage Granddad and his wheelchair in your car. My daughter meets him here because she knows that Oakbrook drivers will help load and unload, along with our staff and myself.”

  Nicki leaned forward. “I thought of that. So after I talked to Henry, I spoke with Oakbrook’s director. She said their van can go to Millington at no charge. And because Sunnybrook is a nursing facility, there will be plenty of help while we’re there.”

  “It sounds like you’ve thought of everything, Miss Price. Granddad doesn’t need my permission if he wants to visit an old friend. Are you simply seeking my blessing?” He folded his hands on his desk.

  “I suppose I am. As much as I want Henry to see Blake Koehler, I’m a little nervous. Does your grandfather have food allergies I should be aware of or medications that must be taken on schedule? What if there’s a medical emergency while we’re in Millington? Of course, I would call paramedics, but do you have any advice for me?”

  “The van driver will provide written instructions if he needs meds while you’re gone, and he’s not allergic to anything other than mangoes. Those seldom appear on institutional food trays. Did you ask Toni if she wished to accompany you?”

  Nicki nodded. “I did, but she passed. She said she comes to the Carlton every few weeks because senior care centers are too depressing.”

  Mr. Prescott mulled this over. “Firm up your plans with Oakbrook and Sunnybrook while I make some calls. Have the van driver bring Henry here since it’s on their way. Then you won’t have to drive. Don’t worry about anything today, Miss Price.” Robert stood and extended his hand. “And thank you for bringing me breakfast.”

  Nicki shook with an enormous sense of relief. “I don’t want you remembering me as a thorn in your foot when I leave this lovely hotel.”

  “Never. I will recall a sweet young woman who paid special attention to my grandfather.”

  Nicki threw away their trash and started making calls, but when she walked through the hotel’s front doors at eleven, she was in for a surprise. Dressed in a casual shirt, chinos, and loafers, Robert was waiting for her. “Are you coming with us to Millington?”

  A smile brightened his face. “Yes, indeed. I found someone to fill in at the desk, so I’m taking a personal day. I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

  “Your grandfather will be delighted,” she said as the Oakbrook van pulled up to the curb.

  However, as they climbed into the van’s second row, Henry’s exact words were, “What are you doing here, Bobby, on the one day I finally get to spend the day with somebody pretty?”

  Bobby didn’t seem the least bit offended. “I’m here to make sure Miss Price minds her manners. She’s been quite a handful around the Carlton lately. Who knows what mischief she has planned for Sunnybrook?”

  Henry rubbed his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear! Tell me your news, Miss Price. I can’t wait to hear the latest developments in our case.”

  During the first half of the forty-minute drive, Nicki repeated her conversation with Mrs. Fitzhugh practically verbatim. Then Henry described the ongoing debate at his assisted-living center. Some residents wished to implement a Friday cocktail hour in the courtyard, while the teetotalers insisted that alcohol be confined to residents’ rooms.

  “Goodness, I’m surprised that people are still squabbling when—” Nicki abruptly came to her senses before finishing the sentence.

  “When they’re old and gray?” Henry cackled with delight. “People will disagree, young lady, whether they are twenty or one hundred and five. Don’t you agree, Bobby?”

  “Yep. It’s human nature.” Robert kept a steadying hand on Henry’s chair despite the locks on the wheels.

  Nicki noticed Robert’s change in demeanor. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t use the word “yep” at the concierge desk if his life depended on it.

  Once the three of them trooped into Sunnybrook, Nurse Lansky greeted them cordially. “Right on time,” she said. “Blake is waiting in the private solarium. We’ll bring your lunch trays there. You’ll have more space than in his room. I’ll show you the way.”

  Inside the sun-filled solarium room sat Blake Koehler, wearing a navy-checked shirt, dark trousers, and, unfortunately, a blank expression.

  “Hi, Mr. Koehler. It’s Nicolette Price. We met recently. And look who I’ve brought to visit you. Henry Prescott, a former bellman at the Carlton Hotel. He couldn’t wait to see you after all these years!”

  Blake looked from the nurse to Nicki but with the same benign disinterest. But when Robert rolled his grandfather front and center, something flickered in his eyes. Blake blinked several times and stared at Henry.

  “Hello, Mr. Koehler.” Henry scooted his chair to get as close as possible. “It’s Henry, your bellman from the good old days. Take a good look at my wrinkly face and see if you don’t recognize a friend.”

  Blake did exactly as instructed. He leaned forward and studied the craggy, ebony features and… laughed.

  “Either he remembers what a jokester I used to be, or he just saw the funniest-looking person on earth,” said Henry, settling back in his wheelchair.

  “Either way, you’re off to a good start,” said Nurse Lansky. “I’ll leave you four alone. This ought to keep conversation lively until your lunches arrive.” She set Blake’s keepsake box in Henry’s lap and wheeled a low table beside the two elderly men. “I won’t be able to stay with you today, but if you need anything, just push that intercom button.” She pointed at the wall monitor and left the room.

  Nicki and Robert dragged over chairs, one on each side of them. Henry opened the box and held up the first treasure—a
yellowed newspaper insert. “What’s this, Blake? The furniture you had on sale in your stores that week?”

  Koehler peered at the flyer, his features registering curiosity rather than recognition.

  “Wow. Check out those prices.” Henry tapped the bottom of the page. “An entire suite of bedroom furniture for two hundred dollars. Mahogany, no less. Can’t buy that hardwood anymore. No, sirree. We gotta protect the rainforests before they’re all gone.”

  Nodding as though in agreement, Blake laid the paper on the table as Henry pulled the next item from the box.

  “Good golly, will you look at this? You and the missus in your younger days.” Henry held the Polaroid snapshot close to his face before passing it to Blake. “You two sure had a handsome pair of sons. Children are such a blessing… most of the time.”

  As Blake examined the photo, a smile bloomed across his weathered face. Nicki and Robert exchanged a silent glance. Neither wanted to break the tenuous connection being established between the two older men.

  “Looks like one of your boys played college football.” Henry handed him a picture of a young man wearing a helmet and shoulder pads. “That’s the logo for the Clemson Tigers.” Henry slapped his knees. “Hmmm, they always had a good team.”

  Blake tucked the gridiron photo into his shirt pocket and waited to see what was coming next. For the twenty minutes Henry presented Blake with a montage of his life, including civic honors, professional awards, anniversary celebrations, and the milestones of family life over dozens of years. Henry had no idea who these grandchildren and perhaps great-children were, but it didn’t matter. Birthday parties, graduations, weddings, and vacations at the beach provided universal common ground.

  When lunch arrived, Nicki was reluctant to interrupt. Even though he never said a word, Blake seemed to enjoy the trip down memory lane. “Let’s let our sandwiches sit for now,” she whispered to Robert.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.” He tipped a water bottle to his lips. “There will always be another lunch, but days like today are few and far between for these two. “

  As much as Nicki was enjoying herself, she and Henry had a second agenda, one whose likelihood of success dimmed as Henry neared the bottom of Blake’s keepsake box.

  “Would you look at this? Here’s what Miss Price remembered from her first visit to you, Blake.” Henry held up a vellum card embossed with a poem, a poem which had made no sense at the time.

  “Read it aloud, Granddad.” Robert unwrapped Blake’s sandwich and set his tray across the arms of his chair.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Henry cleared his throat and began to read,

  Remember to take your spare change

  When you look for Dorothy McGuire

  The king of the sea sees all

  So one promenade left

  A reach for the stars

  And one sashay right,

  And a girl’s best friend shall be yours.

  “I believe you found what you’re looking for, Miss Price,” said Henry, handing her the card.

  The cryptic message meant nothing to Blake as he took a bite of his chicken salad on rye, but Nicki leaped to her feet. “That’s it. I’m not sure how, but this is our key, Henry.” She began to skip around with her excitement.

  “Settle down, Miss Price,” said Robert. “Let’s not frighten Mr. Koehler.”

  “May I make a photocopy of this, sir?” Nicki showed Blake the paper and then pointed at the door.

  He continued to eat with no interest in the poem.

  Nicki raced to the nurse’s station to find Mrs. Lansky. As soon as a photocopy was safely in her purse, she was back in the solarium eating lunch with her friends.

  Henry loved seeing his old friend despite Blake’s limitations. Blake seemed to appreciate new faces or perhaps the change of scenery. Robert enjoyed spending time with his grandfather away from the Carlton.

  And Nicki? She suspected that a decades-old nut was about to crack wide open.

  TWENTY-NINE

  While Nicki and her favorite bellman took off to Millington, Nate was left to track down the elusive Carlene Bradington on his own. Fortunately, his skills proved up to the challenge thanks to her uncommon name in the Memphis area and the magic of Google. Search engines furnished several pictures that matched the description supplied by Marino and Tyrone Biggs. Danny’s former girlfriend and the mysterious mourner turned out to be Mrs. Raymond Bradington of Bartlett, an upscale suburb east of Memphis. He had to pull out every PI trick in the book to obtain their address.

  Was the fact his paramour was still married the reason why Danny had been murdered? Nate didn’t know, but he doubted Danny knew that rather consequential detail, or he never would have asked her out.

  On his drive out to Bartlett, Nate couldn’t stop thinking about Izzy. He’d been tempted to ask her to accompany him to Carlene’s. After all, the girlfriend had approached Isabelle after the graveside service and expressed sympathy. Because she hadn’t been hiding her identity that day, she might answer questions from Danny’s sister.

  Yet Nate knew Izzy would recognize this for what it was—an obvious ploy to spend time with her and find out why she needed to take a break from him. Regarding annoying euphemisms, that one had to be in the top five on everyone’s list. Part of him didn’t care how obvious his motives appeared. He wanted Izzy to spell out exactly what unforgivable blunder had slammed the door on their future. But if she needed time, she would have it.

  Thanks to GPS, Nate easily found the private community where Carlene and Raymond Bradington lived. Unfortunately, a guard was posted at the electronic gate, and Nate’s name wasn’t on the Bradingtons’ list of usual visitors. “What did you say your name was again, sir?” asked the security guard.

  “My name is Nate Price. I’m a friend of Isabelle Andre, who’s a friend of Mrs. Bradington. Miss Andre asked me to come today on her behalf. She was called away at the last minute.” His explanation, although delivered with perfect sincerity, sounded lame even to him.

  “Sorry, sir. I don’t see the name Isabelle Andre on the list either.” He peered up impatiently from his clipboard.

  “Please check to see if Mrs. Bradington is home. I’m here on an urgent matter for Miss Andre. Couldn’t you just call her?”

  After another skeptical perusal of him and his vehicle, the guard punched a number into his phone. Then he turned his back on Nate.

  Returning a minute later, the guard’s surprise rivaled Nate’s own. “Mrs. Bradington said you should drive up to the house. Stay on the main avenue until the third stop sign, Mr. Price. Then turn left and go about a mile and a half. The Bradingtons’ home will be on your left, adjacent to the golf course, 458 Pine Hollow.” The man actually tipped his cap.

  Mr. Price? Suddenly he was no longer a dubious interloper trying to access an exclusive world? “Thanks.” Nate drove through the gate the moment it lifted much faster than necessary.

  After passing a variety of opulent homes that failed to generate even a spark of jealousy, Nate found the Bradingtons’ driveway and parked in the turnaround. Just the landscaper’s bills must cost these people a fortune. When Nate rapped on the double front entrance, the elusive Carlene answered the door. “Mrs. Bradington?”

  “Mr. Price? Please come in.” She opened the door wide with a friendly smile.

  The foyer soared upward two stories and was larger than his living room and dining area combined. “This is rather impressive.” Nate let his gaze travel up to the crystal chandelier high overhead.

  “Thank you, but I can’t take any credit for the decor. My husband didn’t trust my taste when we moved in, so he hired a decorator. If you’re a sports buff, you may have heard of him—Ray Bradington. He played for the Titans a few years back.” She looked at him with a certain expectation on her face.

  Nate wracked his brain but came up empty. “Sorry. I follow college ball more than the pros.”

  “No matter. Why don’t we have a seat in here?”
Smiling graciously, Carlene led the way into a comfortable living room. She pointed at the sofa and then chose a chair by the window.

  Nate admired the high-gloss floors, glass étagères, and paintings on the walls. He quickly concluded that football players made substantially more money than private investigators. “Thanks for seeing me without an appointment. I should have called first.” He sat, even though he didn’t expect to be there long.

  “That would have been difficult since I didn’t give Isabelle my number when I paid my respects.”

  The fact Carlene hadn’t left her address either hung uncomfortably in the air. Nate scanned the room again before meeting her eye.

  “Isabelle appreciated that you came to the funeral, but you were a bit of a shock to her. She didn’t know Danny had been dating someone. A few days later, she wanted to reach out to you and asked me to help. She was planning to visit today, but something urgent came up at work.”

  Carlene’s cheery demeanor diminished. “I suppose you’re wondering, and rightly so, why a married woman was dating Danny.”

  “Yes, I am a little curious.”

  “Have you ever been married, Mr. Price? Sometimes marriages run off track. Even couples who are deeply in love occasionally have problems. Ray and I had been separated for eight or nine months. He moved out and I filed for divorce.” Carlene twirled a long lock of hair into a ringlet. “It was during this difficult period that I met Danny.”

  Unless Nate was imagining things, just mentioning Danny’s name brought a pained expression to her face. “Where did you two meet?”

  “I went with a few girlfriends down to Beale Street to listen to music.” Carlene rubbed the backs of her fingers. “Don’t think late on a weekend night—that’s too crazy for my taste. We shared a bucket of barbecue ribs and heard some great blues at seven o’clock on a Wednesday. Danny was filling in for another musician, but he played a few solos. I’ve always loved the sax. And I fell in love with Danny almost as easily.”

  The fact that she admitted she loved him astounded Nate. “In that case, I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bradington.”