What Happened on Beale Street Read online

  She frowned at the use of her formal address. “Thank you, and please call me Carlene. I was devastated when I heard about his death. That’s why I came to the funeral. I wanted closure for a brief but enjoyable period of my life.”

  “I take it you and your husband have reconciled.” Nate decided it was time for the obvious question.

  Carlene reached for a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “Yes. He promised to go to counseling. We both went to a marriage counselor, and now our relationship is better than ever.” She produced a glorious smile—the smile that probably won the hearts of Raymond Bradington and Danny Andre alike. “Marriage is a sacrament, and we both took vows till death do us part. I’m happy to report we’re getting along much better.”

  “I wish you two the best of luck.” Nate forced himself to say the words, but they sounded phony in his ears. “Mind telling me if you went back to your husband before or after Danny died?”

  Just for a millisecond Nate saw panic in Carlene’s blue eyes.

  “Before, of course,” she snapped. “As soon as Ray agreed to counseling, I agreed to give him another chance. I went to the club where Danny played and told him of my decision to reconcile. Danny understood perfectly. He wished me luck, just as you did, Mr. Price.” Carlene rose regally to her feet. “Please thank Isabelle for her concern and reiterate my condolences. I will always remember her brother as a kind man whose friendship I treasured during a difficult period.” Then she strode from the room toward the front door.

  Nate had no choice but to thank the glamourous housewife and slink back to his car. His interview with Danny’s last love was over, and he was just as nowhere as the last time Tyrone Biggs had fed him a false lead.

  THIRTY

  When her phone rang, Isabelle looked at the caller ID and groaned. Nicki, again. As much as she adored her new friend, she couldn’t talk to her today or any day until she came up with a good excuse as to why she was avoiding her. But when the phone rang again five minutes later, Isabelle knew she couldn’t avoid a showdown any longer.

  “Hi, Nicki. Sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you.”

  “Izzy Andre, is that really you? I was starting to think I had bad breath or you had developed an aversion to frizzy-haired blondes.”

  “Your breath is fine, and your hair isn’t the least bit frizzy.” Guilt over her rude behavior made Isabelle’s palms sweat.

  “Then why the cold shoulder? I’d hoped you would join Nate and me Monday night for dinner at Bleu. Golly, we ate some awesome food.”

  “I heard they were good, but I got tied up with a showing on Monday.”

  “Understood, but it’s already Wednesday. How about tonight? Nate, you, and I can stay on budget with pizza on the levee or maybe on the hotel’s rooftop. It’s a real nice place to watch the sunset if you have another late showing.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Isabelle rubbed the spot between her eyebrows.

  “Okay, I get that something isn’t right between you and Nate. And maybe, just maybe, it’s none of my business. So how ’bout just you and me—a girls-only night out?”

  Isabelle felt the lump in her throat expand big enough to choke her. “I’m swamped at work, Nicki, and that’s the truth.” She wasn’t lying, but the hitch in her voice betrayed it wasn’t the sole reason.

  “Are you crying? You have to tell me what’s wrong, Izzy. Have I done something to make you mad?”

  In that instant, Isabelle knew there was no way around this. She had to hurt Nicki’s feelings or chance a far worse fate at the hands of Tony Markham. Inhaling a deep breath, she chose the only logical excuse. “No, Nicki, you haven’t done anything. But spending time with you reminds me that Danny is dead. It’s not your fault, but as long you and Nate stay in Memphis, I’ll never get past my grief.”

  Nicki was speechless for what seemed like forever. Then she said softly, “I was under the impression you wanted us here on Danny’s case.”

  “Yes, at first I did. But it’s been almost three weeks, and neither of you are any closer to finding his killer.”

  “That’s because the police focused on Tito Sullivan as their suspect. We can only assist homicide, or they will run us out of town—”

  Isabelle feigned indignation. “It doesn’t matter the reason! His killer will never be caught. It’s been too long. Do you know how many murders go unsolved each year?”

  “Too many, granted, but this is Danny we’re talking about!” Nicki mustered her own indignation.

  “I know that, but I just want to put this behind me—”

  “Along with me and Nate? You want to put us behind you too?”

  Isabelle felt her gut twist into a knot, but she couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer. “Yes, I think that would be best. I can’t look at either of you and not see Danny lying on the riverbank.”

  “Maybe in a few months… or… or for my wedding—”

  “No, Nicki. I know you love your cousin and wanted us to get together, but that’s not going to happen. It’s time for the two of you to pack up and head back to New Orleans. I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but I think it’s best to let Memphis Homicide finish the investigation.”

  “Whatever you say, Izzy. Hunter already bought his plane ticket for Friday, so we’ll stay through the weekend. I have something planned with my friend Henry anyway, but come Monday morning, I’m leaving Memphis in my dust. Nice knowing ya.” Nicki was sobbing when she hung up.

  Isabelle also burst into tears and laid her forehead on her arm. She cried so hard she attracted attention. The receptionist and another agent ran into her office.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Andre?” asked Janice, slipping an arm around her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you,” Isabelle whimpered, lifting her head. “I had a horrible quarrel with a friend. Now I’m just overreacting to something she said.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  Her two coworkers looked at each other and then at her. “If you say so,” said Janice, but she made no effort to leave.

  “I’m fine now. Honest. Let’s all get back to work.”

  “I was on my way to see you anyway.” Janice slowly withdrew her arm. “A Mr. Markham is waiting on line two. He will only talk to you about a property you showed him. But isn’t he the creep who—”

  “No, Janice. Markham is a common name. I’ll take his call. Thanks.” Isabelle waited until they left her office before picking up the phone. “Mr. Markham, what can I do for you?”

  “Ahhh, Belle. So nice to hear your voice. Seems like ages since Sunday.”

  She ignored his familiarity. Could this afternoon get any worse? “What property were you interested in? I can look up when the next scheduled open house is.”

  He laughed with a horrible brittleness. “We both know I’m not buying anything. There’s really no need.”

  Her stomach twisted into a knot. “I thought you wanted to relocate to Germantown, but at the moment I have another client in my office. Perhaps you could make an appointment.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’m thinking dinner tonight. How about Italian? Let’s replay our first date but with a far happier ending.” His voice dropped to a soft, melodic cadence that turned her blood to ice water.

  “Tonight is impossible, Mr. Markham. I’m showing a house to the couple sitting in front of me.”

  “Okay, Belle. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that there really are people with you. But we came to an understanding last Sunday. I want another chance to prove we can be happy together. So go sell your fancy houses and act like Miss High-and-Mighty, but I don’t plan to be patient forever.”

  “I understand. Why don’t we get together next week?”

  As Nicki had just done, Tony hung up on her. But unlike Nicki, he disconnected with a rage that was almost palpable.

  Nicki and Nate would be gone by Monday. Isabelle bowed her head and prayed. Please, God, keep my friends safe until I am rid of th
is madman once and for all.

  She was still trying to get herself together when, a few minutes later, Janice ushered back a couple eager to speak with an agent. They had driven up from Hattiesburg, Mississippi, after learning the husband would soon be transferred to the Memphis area. The enthusiastic pair tied her up for two hours as they discussed every listing remotely within their price range. After Isabelle arranged for several showings and provided addresses for three open houses, the couple left.

  Checking her voice mail one last time, she found no more calls from Tony. How in the world could she get him arrested without entrapment or coercion on her part? She hoped she had bought herself enough time to get Nate and Nicki safely back in Louisiana.

  When she finally left the office, Isabelle was even too tired for her favorite Greek salad. After all, she would have to park the car, stand in line at the counter, and wait while they chopped up a chicken breast. Instead, a cheeseburger and fries from a drive-through window would have to suffice.

  Entering her dark condo, a mournful whine lifted her spirits. She dropped her purse, take-out bag, and the mail on the table and swept her cat into her arms. “Mr. Chester, are you hungry? Won’t anybody give a starving cat something to eat?”

  Chester’s reply was a loud meow. Nuzzling his head with her chin, Isabelle opened the cupboard where cans of salmon pate and turkey giblets were stored. Then something odd caught the corner of her eye, freezing her midstride. Someone was sitting on the couch in her living room.

  In that instant, Isabelle knew she had two or three seconds to act—a span of time that could change her life forever. Remembering her cell phone in her pocket, she lowered the cat to the floor and hit her speed dial. It wasn’t for the Germantown detective who had taken her complaint and helped secure the TPO or even 9-1-1. The only number she’d set was for Nate Price, a man she’d broken up with two days ago. She pressed the button, along with the mute feature, and switched on the light, illuminating the features of Tony Markham.

  “How on earth did you get in here?” she gasped, swallowing the taste of bile in her mouth.

  Tony rose to his full six feet three. “You didn’t think this building had good security, did you?”

  “Not anymore I don’t.” She planted her feet and divided her weight evenly.

  “Those overhangs allow anyone reasonably in shape to climb up to your unit. You’ll soon discover I’m in much better than reasonably good shape.” His neutral expression morphed into something feral. “And the locks installed on sliding glass doors are a joke.”

  “Good to know. So my next question is why are you here? I thought we came to an agreement on the phone that we would get together next week.” She tried to ignore her cat’s meows, but Mr. Chester let out an impatient howl.

  “Either shut up that stupid cat or I will.” Tony took a step toward the cat.

  “He’s just hungry. If I feed him, he’ll quiet down.” Isabelle picked him up and walked into the kitchen. As much as she hated confined spaces, she couldn’t chance Tony lashing out against Chester.

  “He’s not the only one.” He followed her into the kitchen and dropped a Jack’s Deli sack on the counter. “I thought Wednesday was your day for Greek chicken salad. I picked up two and a lovely bottle of Pinot Grigio. I couldn’t think of any Greek white wines, so I went with Italian.”

  Isabelle concentrated on opening a can of Nine Lives and scraping it into Chester’s bowl. When she turned around, Tony was inches away.

  “Why on earth would you pick up burgers?” He sprayed spittle as he roared. Like a split personality, his angry side had reared its ugly head. “Wednesday is Greek salad night!” He extended his arm and opened his fist. Her takeout bag, compressed to half its former size, dropped to the floor. With a vicious kick, Tony sent it skittering across the floor.

  Isabelle hiccupped from holding her breath too long. “I was so exhausted after work I couldn’t bear standing in line.” With trembling fingers, she placed Chester’s bowl in the corner of the pantry.

  “Oh, Belle, you mean you really did have clients in your office when I called?” He swung from the evil Mr. Hyde to the benign Dr. Jekyll. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Sit and make yourself comfortable. I’m going to pour us a glass of wine.”

  As he crossed the room, she picked up the bag from Jack’s and stepped around him. “This kitchen smells like salmon. Let’s eat in the dining area, where we’ll be more comfortable.”

  Tony frowned but didn’t protest. “If that’s what will make you happy.” He followed at her heels with the bottle of wine and two glasses.

  “I’m just opening the sliding door a few inches for some air,” she said, and then she lowered herself primly onto a chair.

  He watched her every move before sitting across from her at the table. “I just realized I never answered your earlier question.”

  “Which question was that?” Isabelle tried to act normal in the midst of the most terrifying situation of her life.

  He filled their glasses and set one in front of her. “You thought we had an agreement to get together sometime next week.” He sipped his wine but never broke eye contact. “Let’s be clear. I never agreed to that. Once again, you’re making the decisions and acting like they are the law of the land. A relationship is a partnership, Belle. We will share in the decision making.” With each statement his voice rose with intensity until he was shouting. “I don’t care if you pick a stupid movie to watch or which nights we go out to eat, but when I want to spend quality time with you, I will not be put off!”

  Isabelle’s hands turned clammy, and a bead of sweat ran down her temple. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “No? Then drink up. That bottle of vino cost me twenty bucks.”

  “You know that I don’t care for—”

  Tony slapped her across the face, an action which startled more than injured her. “I said have a drink.”

  Isabelle lifted the glass to her lips, spilling several drops on her blouse. Swallowing a sip, she forced a smile. “It’s delicious, but may I have some of my salad first? I’m afraid the wine will go right to my head.”

  “Of course. Let’s eat. We have a full night ahead of us.” Tony pulled both salads from the bag. “I truly don’t want a queasy stomach to ruin what I have planned.” He spread out napkins and plasticware and added salad dressing as though they were any other American couple enjoying an easy supper.

  Isabelle speared a tomato with her fork, but when she brought it to her lips she began to gag.

  “What is wrong with you?” he snarled. “You had no trouble chowing down the food on that touristy riverboat. You didn’t choke on your dinner with Nate Price.” Without warning, he grabbed her wrists and hauled her to her feet as though she were a ragdoll. Dragging her away from the table, he slapped her hard across the face a second time and threw her on the couch.

  “Please, Tony. I want to eat my salad. It was the wine I’m not used to. I know you paid good money—”

  “Stop lying, Belle. In fact, stop talking altogether! I tried to play nice and it got me nowhere. You’re about to find out what happens when a woman forgets her place in the world. I’m going to make you very sorry.” Digging his knee into the center of her chest, Markham pinned her to the couch like a moth.

  Isabelle opened her mouth to scream.

  “I could have sworn I told you to shut up.” Markham encircled her neck with his hands and began to squeeze.

  In the distance she thought she heard sirens, but it was probably wishful thinking. Closing her eyes, Isabelle hoped she would die quickly so she wouldn’t have to be with him another minute longer.

  “Get off her, Markham! Or I’ll put a bullet in your head long before the cops can save you.”

  A familiar voice penetrated her muddled senses. Isabelle hovered above a deep black chasm.

  In the next instant the suffocating weight was off her chest. Isabelle struggled to sit up and focus her bleary eyes. Nate had an arm around Tony’
s throat and a gun pressed to his temple. Tony was gasping for breath, his face bleached of color. Outside sirens blared, car doors slammed, and men shouted orders.

  “Nate,” she gasped. “Please don’t shoot him.” She coughed and sputtered. “The police are here. They can arrest him.”

  Nate looked her in the eye for a long moment. Then he pulled out a cable tie, threw Tony to the floor, and secured his wrists behind his back. The big man who’d been so brave bullying her was now whimpering like a child.

  “Germantown Police! Open up!” The shout was accompanied by a pounding fist.

  Holstering his gun, Nate unlocked the front door. In the next instant, he wrapped Isabelle in the protective shelter of his arms.

  “I worried you wouldn’t figure out what was happening,” she said into his shirt. “Then I worried you might ignore me. I certainly gave you plenty of incentive.”

  Nate hugged her tightly. “You know us MSU boys never walk away from a challenge. I was about to call and ask if you had enough thinking time yet. Sometimes too much thinking can be worse than not enough. It makes you afraid to take a leap of faith.”

  Isabelle lifted her face to his. “If not for you, he would have killed me. Thank you.” Her two words sounded pathetically inadequate.

  “Miss Andre, do you need medical attention?” A police officer intruded on their moment.

  She rubbed a tender spot on her throat. “No, I don’t think so.” Nevertheless EMTs soon surrounded her to shine lights into her eyes and attach a blood pressure cuff.

  One officer read Markham his rights while another hauled him out the door. With a gun barrel no longer against his temple, he shouted an assortment of foul names and detailed his plans for her once he was released from jail.

  Nate pulled a microcassette from his pocket and followed the assemblage into the hallway. When he returned, he was grinning. “From the time I reached your balcony I recorded every word Markham said and every one of his threats. This will help the DA win more than just a stalking conviction. He tried to kill you. We got him on felonious assault and attempted murder.” Nate squeezed in between the medical technicians.