What Happened on Beale Street Read online

  “You got that right. I’ll give you whatever heads-up I can, but nobody gets close to the body until the ME releases the crime scene. Then you, the sister, and your partner can have a look.” While the two men watched, techs tented the area to protect it against a light drizzle. “Are you sure Miss Andre wouldn’t rather view the body at the morgue? That’s where this guy’s headed next.”

  Nate gazed at the river and shook his head. “She’s here now. The river probably washed away any blood, so he won’t look that much different cleaned up.”

  “Yeah, along with any evidence too,” Marino muttered. “Okay, since they called at the crack of dawn and asked her to come down here, you may as well get this over with. Give us a few more minutes and I’ll wave you over.”

  The detective went back to work, leaving Nate to choose a spot to wait midway between the women and the crime scene. With Nicki trying to comfort Isabelle, he didn’t want to crowd their space, especially not after yesterday’s dressing down. Despite his assertion her comments had rolled off his thick hide, Isabelle’s disrespect had stung more than he thought possible. You would think by the time people reached their thirties, anyone from their old hometown would be a welcome sight, even if he hadn’t met her high standards in the past. So Nate watched traffic on the river instead. Fishermen with small outboards hugged the shore, while tugboats pushing low-riding barges maintained their course in the shipping lane.

  Detective Marino returned twenty minutes later, saying the initial medical examination was complete. “You can bring Miss Andre over for a look-see, Nate. The ME has released the body for transport.”

  Nate walked back to the parking lot, but Nicki jumped out before he reached the car.

  “Is it Danny?” she asked, her face ashen.

  Nate stopped in his tracks. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a look at him. The detective wants Miss Andre to make the ID.”

  Nicki ducked her head inside the car. A few moments later, Isabelle emerged from the backseat looking pale and drained. The two women walked to the riverbank hand-in-hand, like schoolgirls who had been sentenced to a lifetime of detention.

  Officer Flynn lifted the yellow plastic tape for them as Nate’s former college teammate stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Detective Charles Marino. Are you sure you want to do this here, Miss Andre?”

  Isabelle tightened her grip on Nicki’s hand and nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Marino slowly raised the sheet covering the body. The corpse, stiff and bluish, hadn’t been in the water long enough to bloat or decompose. The man’s fingers were rigid, his clothing fully intact, his hair plastered to his skull as though gelled, while his eyes stared lifelessly at the heavy clouds overhead.

  The man looked cold, underfed, and exactly like the Danny Andre Nate remembered from Natchez. Despite the fact ten years had elapsed, there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever as to the identity of the dead man.

  Both Nicki and Isabelle gasped simultaneously. Isabelle staggered against Nicki, who also seemed ready to faint. Marino reached out a hand to steady Isabelle. “Take it easy, Miss Andre. Are you sure this is your brother?”

  Isabelle took several great gulps of air. “Yes… that’s Danny. What happened? Was he shot? Did someone kill him and then just… just throw him in the river?” Her voice edged toward hysteria.

  “We’ll know more after the autopsy, ma’am. You have the department’s deepest condolences, along with mine personally.” Marino glanced at Nicki. “You must be Nate’s partner. Why don’t you take Miss Andre back to your car? Allow me a couple of minutes with Nate, and then y’all can go home or wherever you’re staying.”

  Nate swallowed hard against a bad taste in his mouth. Marino’s voice had become sticky sweet, and his gaze never left Isabelle. Certainly Chip, the former campus lady-killer, wasn’t flirting at a crime scene. “Maybe you should wait until her brother is buried before you turn on the charm,” he said after Nicki and Isabelle were beyond earshot.

  “Was I that obvious? I must be losing my touch, but you can’t blame a guy for trying. That chick is gorgeous even at five a.m.” Marino pulled on his goatee.

  “Last I heard she was married. Sorry about that. What can you tell me at this point?”

  “What about your partner from back home? She ain’t bad looking.”

  “She’s engaged and about to set the wedding date. I believe we were talking about Danny.” Nate pointed to where the techs were shifting the body onto a gurney for transport.

  Marino grinned sheepishly. “Well, for starters the guy wasn’t shot, but he had plenty of bruises and contusions on the face and torso consistent with the struggle in his apartment. Nothing that would have been fatal, though. The ME noted some puncture wounds in his upper arm, along with hemorrhaging in the eyes. Both point the fickle finger of death at drug overdose. Looks like your old pal OD’d. That’s where I would put my money.” The detective closed his portfolio as though he’d already wrapped up the case.

  Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. “That can’t be. Danny was no druggie. The guy was straight as an arrow.”

  “Yeah, and he loved his mama and went to church every Sunday. That’s what they all say.”

  “I would stake my reputation that if Danny OD’d, somebody else was holding the needle.”

  Marino studied him curiously. “You’re awfully sure about a guy you haven’t seen in a decade.”

  “True enough, but Nicki saw him within the last year and talked to him on the phone. People just don’t change their stripes that fast.”

  “You were at his apartment. Nobody but crackheads, meth-lovers, and hardcore junkies live in that neighborhood, along with your garden-variety alcoholics.”

  Nate’s annoyance notched up a level. He recalled Mississippi State’s favorite wide receiver downing plenty of postgame beers despite the coach’s policy to bench any player caught drinking. Marino had frequently jeopardized a four-year athletic scholarship to indulge in his beverage of choice. “Danny was a stand-in musician, a sax player who didn’t have a regular gig because he was still new in town.”

  Marino’s laughter turned snide. “Come on, man. Don’t you know how musicians stay awake on day jobs and then play all night for whatever’s in the tip jar?”

  “Maybe some take drugs, Chip, but not Danny. Did you see any signs of long-term abuse?”

  “I didn’t get up close and personal in the rain on the riverbank. Let’s wait until the ME issues her report regarding cause of death. Then we’ll know whether it was accidental, foul play, or suicide from jumping off the bridge. But hey, since this guy was a friend of an old college teammate, I will dot my i’s and cross my t’s on this one.” Marino handed Nate his card and slapped him on the back. “Good seeing you, Nate. We are definitely going out for beers and barbecue before you head back to the Big Easy.”

  Nate expressed his appreciation without asking the obvious question. If I wasn’t a personal friend, would you do a sloppy job and then shove the file into a drawer?

  Back in the parking lot, his cousin was ready to pounce. “What did that detective tell you?” asked Nicki.

  Nate repeated Marino’s sparse observations and conjecture. When he explained how he knew the guy, he emphasized the detective’s assurance that a thorough investigation would be made.

  “He had better do his job.” Nicki’s sorrow was rapidly mutating into anger.

  “And we will see that he does.” Nate slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry about your friend, Nic. I prayed all the way here it wouldn’t be Danny.”

  Her face contorted with misery. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words issued forth.

  While he tried to comfort his cousin, Isabelle climbed from the car. “Thank you, Mr. Price. And please believe me when I say that detective is wrong. Danny was dead set against drugs. I don’t know how or why, but someone murdered him. I’ll pay you whatever your agency charges. Just find my brother’s killer.” She fixed her serious, sad e
yes on him.

  “I agree with you, Miss Andre. Why don’t we get out of the rain to talk about this?” Nate opened her car door. “Right now you don’t have to hire anyone. If it’s ruled a homicide, the case will be assigned to a Memphis detective.”

  “I don’t want this swept under some rug because of snap conclusions about Danny. If you’re an investigator, then hiring you is what I need to do.” In keeping with her high school moniker, Ice Queen Isabelle climbed into her car and drove away without another word to either of them.

  FIVE

  Nate was only semi-conscious when he picked up his phone. With a painful crick in his neck, he gawked around the luxury accommodations. Slowly details of the last several hours brought him to full alert. He hit the answer button. “Price Investigations.”

  “That you, Nate?” asked a male voice. “Chip Marino from Memphis Homicide. If Nicolette Price really does work for you, I suggest you get down here and put a leash on her. I would estimate she’s one snide comment away from being arrested.”

  “What? Why on earth would you arrest my cousin?” Nate stood up so fast his chair fell over backward. He’d fallen asleep at the antique desk in his swanky room while searching databases for possible drug arrests for Daniel Andre.

  “Whoa,” said Marino. “Not me. But the security guards at the Shelby County offices take stalkers very seriously, especially those issuing thinly veiled threats.”

  “Where are you? Where’s Nicki?” Nate slipped on his loafers and ran a comb through his tangled hair.

  “Coroner’s Office on Poplar Avenue. Your cousin has been camped outside the ME’s door demanding to talk to whoever is in charge. She’s insisting the Andre case be given top priority to anyone coming in or out of the office.”

  “Have security kick her out. She has no business on a restricted floor.”

  “No joke, old buddy. Officers have already removed her from the premises. That crazy woman isn’t to come within twenty feet of this investigation or she will be arrested. She’s making quite a nuisance of herself.”

  Nate ran his hand over his face as he tried to piece together the story. “It’s barely after noon. We just saw you this morning. Neither of us slept much last night. She must have sneaked out after we got back to the hotel.”

  “That’s what I figured. She’s been here since the office opened. The coroner called me an hour ago complaining about her after your partner dropped my name. Dr. Blackwood told her she would get to Mr. Andre later today but had higher priority cases first. Well, that just set off the crazy woman. The doc only took time to talk to Nicki out of courtesy to me. Otherwise, some pushy PI from Louisiana wouldn’t get much airtime here in Tennessee if you catch my drift.” Marino’s dry laugh contained little amusement.

  “What do you mean, ‘out of courtesy to me’?”

  “I’ve been itchin’ to get to that part. Your cousin told the ME and the security guards that she was working the case with Memphis Homicide. Man, was I reassigned to someone else and nobody bothered to tell me? I already have a partner—not as cute as Nicki, but a whole lot saner.”

  “I’m sorry, Chip. Nicki’s still a greenhorn. She’s had her license less than a year, but she’s already mastered the bull-in-a-china-shop method of investigation.”

  This time the detective’s chuckle sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t have called if Nicki stayed on the sidewalk where she was ordered to remain. But according to security cameras, she’s lurking between parked cars in the county’s underground garage. Miss Greenhorn somehow figured out which vehicle belongs to Doc Blackwood. I hope Nicki ain’t packin’ heat, because I let it slip that she ain’t my partner in crime-solving.”

  It took less than twenty seconds for the visual to run through Nate’s mind: his cousin jumping up next to the ME’s van and spouting demands with her holstered Beretta 92 in plain sight. With Nicki’s wild hair and overly enthusiastic persona, the coroner would press a button on her pager and every cop within a five-block radius would converge on his clueless cousin. “I’ll be right there. Please don’t let anybody shoot her. And, Chip, I owe you one,” he added before ending the call.

  Nate didn’t bother to brush his teeth or change his wrinkled shirt. He hurried down to the lobby and then out the doors to his car. He reached the office of the medical examiner on Poplar Avenue in under ten minutes, a testimony to his one-time aspiration to become a NASCAR driver. Nate spotted the sign for “Authorized Parking” and drove down the ramp into a subterranean garage. He hoped the sound of gunfire wouldn’t soon punctuate the early afternoon somnolence.

  With great relief Nate spotted his former MSU teammate talking to his partner while she leaned against a late model sedan. Nicki was listening with crossed arms and a defensive, hipshot stance as Marino gestured wildly with his hands. If Nate was a betting man, twenty bucks said the guy was reliving his glory days on the football field.

  Nate stopped near a vacant spot and rolled down his window. “Is this streetwalker bothering you, Detective? I’d be happy to take her off your hands and spare you the paperwork down at county lockup.”

  Marino hooted while Nicki scowled. “Nate! Thank goodness you’re here. I was trying to impress on the detective the need for speed in this investigation. While we sit on our thumbs, crucial evidence can literally be swept up with last night’s litter on Beale Street.”

  “So glad to see you, old buddy. My supply of polite conversation was running dry.” Marino straightened to his impressive six feet two height. “If you have this situation under control and your cousin isn’t planning any more attacks on county workers or elected officials, I gotta get back to work, even though the need for speed never dawned on us numbskulls in homicide.”

  “Yeah, I got this. Thanks again.”

  Nate waited until Marino sauntered away before focusing his full attention on his newest employee. “Get in the car before I kill you in full view of the security cameras.”

  “We’re being watched?” Nicki peered up and around, zeroing in on a unit mounted to a steel beam thirty feet away. “Is there no privacy left in America?”

  “You know there isn’t. And those of us on the right side of the law don’t have a problem with that.” She had barely closed her door when Nate peeled up the ramp.

  “Hey! I don’t have my seat belt buckled,” she complained.

  “That minor infraction is the least of your problems, Nicki. What in the world were you thinking?” Nate gave her no time to answer. “Badgering a high-ranking official, not to mention an overworked doctor, irritating off-duty cops, and lying about working with Detective Marino? I should fire you! You don’t even deserve last week’s paycheck.” Nate slammed on the brakes at a red light. “And how on earth did you get there? We rented one car and I’ve got it.”

  “I took a taxi from the hotel,” said Nicki, now meek as a lamb.

  “That’s it? I just asked you a pack of questions, and you chose that one to answer?” Nate, on the other hand, roared like a lion.

  “If you would just calm down, boss—”

  “Oh, you recognize the fact that you have one? Because it sure didn’t appear to Detective Marino you are under anyone’s supervision.”

  “Detective Marino,” she said contemptuously. “That guy showed up today chomping on a glazed donut. What a cliché.” She looked at the urban landscape along the way instead of at him.

  Nate sucked in a breath and held it. He needed to calm down because throttling his cousin would be hard to explain at the next family reunion. Aunt Rose had a temper equal to his. “What Detective Marino chooses for his morning meal is neither my concern nor yours. I suggest you start talking, or so help me I’ll drive straight to the airport and drop you off. If you take a taxi back to the hotel, you’ll find your clothes already on their way back to New Orleans in care of Hunter Galen. It’s time that guy finds out what a stubborn, bull-headed woman you are.”

  Pulling into the queue for valet parking for the Carlton, Nate relaxed his
grip on the steering wheel. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Nicki looked green around the gills. She opened her mouth and gasped as though she were choking on a chicken bone.

  Nate slapped her in between the shoulders. “What’s wrong with you? Did a cough drop go down the wrong pipe?”

  She shook her head as a floodgate of tears opened.

  “All right, forget what I said about telling Hunter. Every man deserves his fate with the woman of his dreams.” Nate waved off the valet and pulled back into traffic. At the end of Third Street he turned onto Riverside Drive and headed to the park while Nicki continued to weep. They might as well have this out without a scene inside the hotel. He pulled into a spot with a lovely, if unappreciated, view.

  “Consider this a meeting of Price Investigation partners. Nothing discussed will leave the confines of this car. Now tell me what’s gotten into you. You can’t behave like that if you’re a PI.”

  Nicki pulled out a wad of tissues from her purse, but drying her eyes was a futile exercise. “I lost it when I saw Danny’s body lying on the riverbank,” she said, while tears continued to stream down her face. “All cold and… and wet… and… utterly alone. He looked like one of those rubber corpses used in haunted house displays instead of… instead of a talented young man who had people who loved… loved him.”

  Her tears hampered speech for several more minutes. Nate waited patiently, caught between sympathy and annoyance over her reckless actions.

  “I hated how the forensic techs treated him… like he was just another lowlife who happened to wash ashore that day.”

  “You thought the forensic team behaved disrespectfully?”

  Nicki sighed as she stared at ships on the river. “No, I guess not. But they saw marks on his arm and jumped to the junkie conclusion. ‘Okay, boys, let’s wrap up our work here.’ ” She looked at him with red eyes. “Danny delivered meals to shut-ins, cut old people’s grass on Saturdays, and hauled their trash to the curb. Do those things sound like the actions of a crackhead?”