What Happened on Beale Street Page 30

  Bradington refocused on the hundred pound woman in front of him. “Do you think I wanted that loser waiting for the next time we had a fight? I went to his dump of an apartment for a chat. I don’t think you would’ve liked living there,” he sneered. “I told him to find a new town to play his horn in or I would make him sorry. Mr. Valiant said he wasn’t going anywhere, that he could wait until you’d had enough. I couldn’t allow that. So I said I was going home to make you sorry instead.” Bradington laughed. “That scrappy punk came at me swinging. He put up a pretty good fight for a while, but there’s no talking sense to a man in love. Just for the record, I hadn’t gone over there to kill the guy, only teach him a lesson.”

  “What about the heroin?” Isabelle demanded. “He died of a heroin overdose.”

  “Lucky break for me. I figured one of those lowlifes had junk hidden somewhere in that dump. Found it first place I looked—taped under the toilet tank lid. That took care of Andre waking up with a sore neck the next day.”

  “You’re a monster!” Carlene struggled to break free from his hold.

  “And you’re a cheating wife!” He grabbed Carlene by the throat.

  This time Nate reacted quickly. Pulling his gun from the holster, he leveled it at Bradington, a foot taller than Carlene. “Let go of her, Ray, or you’re the one who’ll be sorry.”

  Even though he’d been taught to turn the other cheek, every fiber in his being wanted to shoot Bradington. Nate cocked his weapon. “I’m not telling you again to let go of her.”

  “She’s all yours.” Bradington shoved Carlene toward Nate, throwing him off balance, and bolted from the room.

  “Both of you get down on the floor and stay there!” Nate shouted, running through the doorway after him. He couldn’t risk Bradington coming back with firepower. The guy had little to lose. But by the time Nate reached the garage, Bradington was peeling down the driveway.

  In the distance he heard the sound of sirens for the second time in as many days. Detective Marino would be watching for Bradington’s vehicle. The wife-beater and murderer wouldn’t get away, and there would be no bribing victims to keep them quiet. Inside Ray and Carlene’s three-car garage, surrounded by expensive toys and sports equipment, Nate inhaled a lungful of air. It was his first easy breath in a long while.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Crouching between the sofa and the wall, Isabelle couldn’t remain hidden any longer. Nate had gone after Ray, a much larger man besides being quintessentially evil. Nate might be armed, but who says Bradington didn’t have a gun in the garage? She’d already lost Danny to this psychopath for no other reason than Carlene fell in love with him. No way could she cower behind the sofa when Nate might be in danger.

  “Stay here, Carlene,” she said, stumbling to her feet. “Don’t follow me.”

  “Where are you going? Nate told us to stay where we are!”

  “And that’s exactly what you will do. I wish I’d met you during the short time you and Danny were together. I would have loved seeing him… happy.”

  Isabelle ran into an empty kitchen, through a spotless utility room, and then into the garage containing an SUV, a small sports car, and an empty spot. Nate stood under the overhang, staring at the street as sirens grew louder.

  “What happened? Is Ray gone?”

  Nate grinned as he turned around. “He won’t get far. I pressed 9-1-1 the moment he called us ‘crybaby pals.’ I don’t even like donuts.”

  “Oh, Nate. I was worried Bradington had stabbed or shot you, and you’re out here making jokes.” She wrapped both arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

  “What? You think I can’t handle a two-hundred-pound ox when helpless females are depending on me?” Nate tipped up her chin. “Good thing I don’t have much of an ego.”

  Isabelle didn’t laugh at his joke. “Please don’t take unnecessary chances, not on the job or anywhere else. I’m fond of you just as you are.”

  “Fond of me? I’m fond of flannel shirts and my Aunt Rose.” His smile was slow in coming as they watched the arrival of the Shelby County Sheriff’s Department and Detective Marino. “If you want to get something off your chest, you’d better hurry.”

  “I love you, Nate. I want to make that perfectly clear before we’re rudely interrupted.” Isabelle tightened her embrace.

  “In that case you’re in luck, Miss Andre. There was no expiration date on that offer of undying devotion in high school.”

  Nicki was the one who had devised their foolproof plan. Yet now she was having difficulty putting it into action. Henry’s great-granddaughter, Antoinette, would bring Henry to the hotel around 2:00 a.m. Someone that young had no trouble staying awake, while Henry seldom slept more than a few hours each night, preferring instead to catnap during the day when the spirit moved him. Robert had been the most reluctant to participate because, as concierge, he had the most to lose. If they were caught, she would be asked to leave the hotel or maybe fined for malicious mischief. Henry would be sent back to the assistant living center with a stern reprimand. Hotel management would never risk negative PR by having a ninety-year-old man arrested. But the concierge might get fired, so Nicki was pleasantly surprised when Robert agreed. His exact words had been: “If you and Granddad insist on this ridiculous idea, I want to make sure security doesn’t shoot first and ask questions later.”

  She and Henry weren’t deterred by the threat of gunplay.

  Robert planned to remain in his office after his shift to catch up on paperwork. He would keep Henry and Antoinette hidden until most of the hotel’s patrons had gone to bed. Nicki was to review the details of their plan, drink a cup of chamomile tea, and sleep until her alarm went off at two o’clock. After all, she usually was in bed by 10:30, but tonight she wasn’t the least bit sleepy.

  Pacing the floor while reciting the poem found in Blake’s keepsake box guaranteed she wouldn’t be in top form when the occasion demanded precision. Nicki poured her third cup of herbal tea down the drain. It wasn’t living up to the image of a bear dozing in an overstuffed chair. She’d just finished an entire bag of mustard pretzels and was eyeing a bag of cookies when someone knocked on her door. Every nerve in her body went on high alert.

  “Are you still awake, O’lette?”

  Only two people in the world called her that—an elderly woman who never left the New Orleans Garden District anymore… and her fiancé.

  Nicki bolted across the room and yanked open the door. “What are you doing here?” She dragged him into the suite by his arm. “How did you get here so fast?”

  Hunter produced his signature smile as he glanced around the room. “Thank goodness I’m not too late. I wasn’t sure what time the mission would commence. Now, which question should I answer first, dear heart?”

  “Take your pick.” Nicki ran a hand through her tangled curls, self-conscious about her appearance.

  “Stop. You look gorgeous, all flushed and frenzied.” Grabbing her hand, he kissed the back of her fingers. “Regarding the what, it should be obvious. I was intrigued when I heard your plans and couldn’t resist joining the expedition. Besides, I couldn’t let my competition show me up with his courage and valor.”

  Nicki rolled her eyes. “Henry is older than my papaw, so your position as fiancé is not in jeopardy.”

  “Splendid. In that case I’m just here for the fun.” Hunter ripped open the bag of cookies and popped one in his mouth.

  “You do realize things could get dangerous.”

  “I’ll be safe in the company of my favorite licensed PI.”

  “If we get caught, we could be arrested. The story might make the papers.”

  “No one knows the Galen name in Memphis. Nothing I do here will embarrass my family even if we spend the night in jail.” He laughed with exasperating composure. “And we can call Nate to post bail. I would bet the ranch he’s not part of your scheme.”

  “Of course not. That spoilsport would ruin everything. Nate doesn’t even b
elieve the jewels are still in the hotel.”

  “That boy is such a doubting Thomas.” Hunter placed his hand above his heart. “I assure you that I’m a believer. Should I take a blood pact or drink cactus juice to prove my worthiness?”

  “Not cactus, but maybe hemlock if you don’t take this seriously.” Scowling, Nicki shook her finger at him. “You didn’t say how you got here so fast.” She glanced at her watch. “I told you about our plan a little after seven, and now it’s barely midnight.”

  “Never underestimate what a man in love can do… or the value of friends who own private planes. I talked a client into dropping me off in Memphis on his way to Denver. Because my investment advice made him tons of money last month, he happily accommodated the minor delay.”

  “And just like that you flew to Memphis?”

  “With the woman of my dreams living in Tennessee, I keep a suitcase by the door at all times.” Hunter lifted her chin and kissed her nose.

  Nicki shivered down to her toes. Not because the suite was too cold, but because no one had ever said such things before Hunter. Or made her feel so cherished. “Okay, Romeo, knock it off. You can stay if we talk business and no more mushy stuff.”

  Hunter straightened, clicked his heels, and then saluted. “Reporting for duty, Commander. What’s our itinerary?”

  “We rest until we rendezvous at o-three-hundred, but that’s out of the question.” Settling in a chair at the table, Nicki pointed at the opposite chair. “We have three hours to kill. First, I’ll show you the electrical schematics for the fountain controls that I got from Robert, along with a map on how to find the mechanical room. Since you’re here, you’ll be in charge of turning off the water so I can investigate every nook and cranny without drowning.”

  “Do you think a Smithfield climbed into a fishpond to hide jewels under a plume of water?” Hunter’s expression turned skeptical.

  “I’m betting they turned off the fountain each night because decent folks kept decent hours, and the pond is only a foot deep. Hey, I thought you said you were a believer.”

  “Absolutely.” He picked up the electrical schematics. “When I’m done memorizing these, I will bring you up to date on my mother’s new ideas for our wedding reception. That should keep us awake nicely.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Precisely at the appointed hour, Nicki and Hunter met Antoinette and Henry in the courtyard. Not a creature was stirring in the hotel’s grand lobby. Nicki introduced Hunter to Henry’s great-granddaughter in a low voice.

  “Pleased to meet ya,” whispered Antoinette. “Dad said he can keep the security guards distracted for fifteen minutes but no more.”

  “Then let’s stop jaw-boning and get to it.” Henry released the brakes on his wheelchair and maneuvered himself forward with his heels.

  “I’ll head to the mechanical room to switch off the water,” whispered Hunter. Clad from head-to-toe in black, including a knit skull cap, he looked like a cat burglar from a Peter Sellers movie.

  Antoinette rolled Henry as close to the fountain as she could and pulled out her cell phone. She seemed content to catch up with texts while the others did whatever they were gathered to do.

  Dressed in baggy shorts, a dark T-shirt, and flip-flops, Nicki sat on the low wall surrounding the fish pond. For a few minutes she listened to the traffic sounds on Third Street, a faraway television from some thoughtless guest, and the blood pounding in her ears. What if someone called the police? Hunter might make jokes, but he had already spent a night in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, and she knew he didn’t want to go back.

  What if Henry suffered a heart attack from the excitement? Or more likely, what if she slipped on wet marble and broke her neck? How would a plaster cast or full-body traction look with her Lela Rose wedding dress?

  Suddenly, the plume of water from the fountain stopped shooting into the air. Nicki had no more time to consider the consequences. Uttering a prayer, she stepped into the chilly water and waded toward its elaborate centerpiece. Robert would send Hunter a text message if security guards were headed in his direction or, if all went well, when the fountain could be turned on. The phone in Nicki’s pocket would start vibrating if the guards resumed their rounds.

  She had ten minutes at the most.

  What on earth am I doing here? Inexplicably, Nicki was beset with a surge of practicality, paralyzing her in knee-deep water. She was a recent college graduate who had worked very hard to get her job at Price Investigations—a job she might forfeit if the hotel prosecuted her for trespassing or vandalism.

  Ready to abandon her folly, Nicki locked eyes with Henry, a man who had witnessed decades of progress in his beloved hotel. Despite everything that had changed, they both felt the same excitement and drama that impelled the five original couples to play their game year after year. She winked at Hunter’s chief competition and went to work.

  Nicki moved around the fountain methodically as Henry aimed his flashlight into nooks and crannies. She ran her fingertips beneath edges and around trim pieces, stretching on tiptoes to reach decorative swirls and flourishes, while the final clue ran through her mind:

  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

  Then one sashay right,

  And a girl’s best friend will be yours.

  According to Henry, Dorothy McGuire had starred in a film, Three Coins in the Fountain. Robert thought the reference to spare change confirmed the pond as the hunt’s ground zero. Tourists loved to toss dimes and quarters into the water.

  “Over here, Miss Price.” Henry rolled his chair to the other side and shined his beam on a marble carving close to top. “That must be it—the king of the sea. The whale is the biggest fish in the ocean.”

  Nicki didn’t bother to explain a whale was a mammal, not a fish. She was too busy climbing a slippery work of art. At any moment, she could break something or fall to her death—at least of embarrassment.

  “Oh, dear me. Please get down from there before you kill yourself.” Robert’s panicky hiss nearly caused what he cautioned against.

  Nicki grabbed a cornice to steady herself and peered over her shoulder. “Henry and I think we found something.”

  “The security guards are almost done with the chocolate cream torte I bought. They won’t be shirking their duties much longer. Your time is up.”

  “Pay no attention to Bobby.” Henry struggled to stand with the help of Antoinette. “We’re very close now, Miss Price. I’m sure of it. Grab hold of that whale’s head and turn it to the right.”

  Not considering how she would keep her balance, Nicki latched onto the king of the sea and gave it a twist.

  At first it didn’t budge. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, it moved. She kept pushing as hard as she could until she had repositioned it ninety degrees to the left.

  “Would you look at that?” Antoinette’s exclamation echoed everyone’s sentiments.

  “Stay where you are, O’lette. I’m coming up to help.” Hunter’s slow drawl was a balm to her ears. He slipped off his Italian leather loafers and splashed through the water.

  “Don’t I look capable of lifting a whale’s head toward the stars?” Nicki asked, giddy with excitement.

  Hunter climbed to the spot where she perched. “Do you think I’ll let you tell our grandchildren you did this alone? Not on your life. On the count of three, we’ll lift together and turned this beast to the right. One… two… three.”

  After a moment of resistance, the piece of marble moved up an inch or two. Then with strength borne of sheer adrenaline, Nicki and Hunter shifted Moby Dick forty-five degrees to the right.

  “What’s happening, Miss Price?” asked Henry, his flashlight beam bouncing frantically around them. “I sure wish I could climb up there too!”

  Speechless and motionless, Nicki and Hunter sta
red into a small, velvet-lined metal rectangle. When the whale reached for the stars, a tiny drawer hidden under a cornice opened. Inside were not one, but two matching letter openers. People Antoinette’s age would probably not even recognize the ornate desk accessories from a bygone era, but enough stunning diamonds embellished the handles to make engagement rings for dozens of brides. And women of all ages knew about diamonds. Nicki carefully picked them up and tucked them into her pocket.

  “Memphis PD!” A shout resonated over Nicki’s shoulder. Simultaneously, every light in the grand lobby switched on. “Everyone freeze, except for the lunatics in the fountain. You two climb down slowly.”

  “Robert! What on earth is going on here?” asked a second voice, softer but no less piqued. “You’re allowing guests to scale the hotel’s priceless landmark as though it was the Matterhorn? It’s three o’clock in the morning!”

  “Would it be okay at three p.m.?” whispered Hunter.

  “This will not end well,” Nicki moaned.

  “It may not, but don’t think for a moment that my mother will let us postpone the wedding.” Hunter climbed down to the water and lifted his hands in the air to assist her.

  “I can explain what’s going on, sir. Miss Price, Mr. Galen, this is Mr. Anderson, the hotel’s general manager.” Robert made introductions in a shaky but respectful tone.

  “I recognized you from the portrait hanging on the second floor.” Nicki sloshed toward the well-dressed man. “And I want you to know this is my fault. Mr. Prescott did everything to discourage me.”

  “Except for the obvious solution, Miss Price. He should have asked you to vacate the Carlton.” Apparently, Mr. Anderson had little patience in the wee hours of the morning.

  Henry thumped the arms of his wheelchair. “Shame on you. Your daddy, Edward Anderson Sr., would have let folks explain.”

  The general manager turned on his heel. “Henry, I didn’t see you sitting there.” He peered at the long-legged, short-skirted girl next to Henry’s wheelchair. “And who are you?”