A Masquerade of Saints (Saints Mystery Series Book 3) Read online

  I hung up and called my voicemail. I hadn’t checked my messages since I went on the run. It was full. I clicked through ten messages. Some were from Claudia, one was from Wyatt, but most were from my realtor, Ms. Mary, who said she'd had an offer but needed to get into the house. She had already been to the house twice but the door was locked, and she couldn’t get in. I didn’t remember locking it. The last message was from earlier that morning, and she said she would be over the following morning at six. If I didn't show up she was going to drop me as a client.

  I tried to call her back to schedule a meeting later in the day, but she didn’t answer. I wondered how I would get down there. I didn’t have a car, and I didn’t know what had happened to Beau or The General.

  I looked over at the lawyer and asked him if he knew where Beau went. He said he didn’t even know who Beau was. I asked him for a ride back to the station, and he told me Marlene was his primary concern, not me or Beau.

  I asked if I could take the limo on my own and was again shot down. I went back through my messages and took down Claudia’s number. Luckily she picked up, and she and Isobel were happy to come get me.

  When I got in the car Claudia kissed my cheek and said, “Tell me everything.”

  I recounted the whole story, from breaking into Curly’s and finding the calendar to my afternoon meeting with Remy. She asked a lot of questions along the way, and when I got to the end she said, "Remy said you are looking for a person who has a little money and hangs out with people with a lot of money. So, did you ever talk to the boys that played in the string quartet from the Baxter’s party? They fit that bill."

  "I didn't even think of that,” I told her.

  "Did you ever follow-up with Maurice to see what Remy found out?"

  "Um, no," I said, feeling like the worst sleuth on the planet.

  She passed me her phone and said Maurice's number out loud while I dialed. He had heard from Remy and the message was, “Talked to Massey. The envelopes from the tweed man were full of cash.”

  After I hung up I looked at Claudia and said, “The maid from the Hadley House said the Baxter’s hired man was bringing them envelopes full of cash.”

  She looked to me and said, “Then the new question is why were the Hadleys being paid off by the Baxter’s hired man?”

  Back to school

  I stayed at Claudia’s house that night and slept better than I had in days. I took a real shower and even washed my clothes. Over breakfast Claudia and I discussed all that had happened. She was convinced that I needed to find out who tried to frame me because she didn’t think I would be represented by the fancy lawyer or defended by Marlene once she had a fully functioning kidney.

  “It’s too much of a coincidence that Jason Stepwald’s kidney worked for her.” Claudia said.

  “Do you think she killed him for it?” I asked.

  “If she was going to kill him she would have known he was the right blood type. But then she was sitting in the hospital with you at the time, waiting to get your kidney. I don’t think she would have wasted her time with you if she knew she had what she needed coming down the hall. There is a chance that she really does love you and didn’t want your kidney. Maybe she didn’t know she would get one from Jason and it all just worked out.”

  Neither of us believed it but the thought was nice.

  Claudia drove me to Tulane University with a mission to find the string quartet and when I asked her how I was supposed to find them she simply said, “Jimmy.”

  I pushed the palm of my hand to my forehead. It never occurred to me to ask him for help. I had known Jimmy for years. He was Lisette’s boyfriend in high school and a life-long friend of mine. He worked at the university in the cafeteria during the week and at a tourist trap called The Alligator Sanctuary on the weekends. Claudia dropped me off in front of the administration building, which is where he worked and told me she’d meet me there in the afternoon, sometime after Isobel woke up from her nap.

  The last time I was at the Tulane cafeteria I was with Banyan, and we walked right through the front door. With Banyan at my side it was easy for me to pretend like I owned the place. It would be more difficult to have that sort of bravado by myself in a Wal-Mart sundress. I decided to go through the back. There was an unmanned loading dock on the back which had two open bays, with large open doors meant for supply trucks. The openings were about four feet off the ground. I walked up to the one on the far right and hoisted myself up into it.

  I stood quickly and walked around the loading area looking for a way into the cafeteria. A young man in a paper apron came out from a door at the far end of the room, saw me and said, “You can’t be back here.”

  “Jimmy told me to wait here,” I said, shrugging.

  “Oh,” he said, and then picked up a box and walked away.

  I followed him towards the kitchens and found Jimmy, his messy mop of blonde curly hair bouncing towards me. As soon as he saw me he opened his arms and took off running.

  “Fanchon,” he shouted. “Are you okay?”

  I stood as still as I could to brace for the hug about to come my way and when it did I nearly fell over.

  “I am fine for now, Jimmy. But I need your help.”

  “I thought you were mad at me,” he said. “Because of what happened to Lisette. Her parents still won’t even look at me.”

  For a brief period of time Jimmy was suspected of murdering Lisette. We later learned the jerk he worked for, Terry Thibodeax, drugged her, raped her and accidentally killed her when he dropped her.

  “I’m not mad at you. I know you loved Lisette. You were a victim just as much as she was.”

  “I thought you were mad about the picture, too,” he said.

  That took me aback. He was referring to a picture of me that Lisette had sold just a few days before she died. The tweed man bought it from her when he was looking for me. It was what led him to Rivet and Paulina’s house and got him killed.

  “Jimmy,” I said. “I barely gave that a passing thought. Why on earth would I be mad about that?”

  “If you’re not mad, let’s not talk about that anymore,” Jimmy said. “It still gets to me.”

  I agreed, and Jimmy invited me to have lunch with him in the cafeteria.

  He brought out two trays full of food and sat one in front of me.

  He sat down across from me and said, “I heard the police were looking for you. What happened?”

  “Such a long story, but I need to find a string quartet,” I said.

  “Why,” he asked, crunching into a bite of fish.

  “They might be able to clear me of all this mess,” I said.

  “You need that. The Baxter family offered a reward for information about you.”

  “Has anybody had anything to say?” I asked hoping he wouldn’t say the Chabert family.

  “Not that I know of,” he said. “Well, except Du’Ponde. She went yappin’ like a dog when they offered money. Everybody was pissed at her. The Chaberts and the Deverouxs have been working together to shut her up. Clem’s been doing everything he can to run her out. The worst of it is he’s been gathering up snakes and setting them free at the property line. I don’t feel bad for her one bit. She had it coming.”

  I found that amusing. I told him bits and pieces of what had happened to me in the last few days. He laughed when I told him about driving around in the crappy General Lee. It brought back his memories of riding around in the car with Jori, his friend and my first boyfriend. I told him I had horrible memories of riding around in that car. He said he had wondered where it ended up.

  After the meal, Jimmy walked me out and pointed me in the direction of the music building. I found the building easily. It was lined with columns and had stained glass windows in the doors.

  The halls were gleaming and completely empty. I wandered the building looking for any indication of where I might find the quartet. I found an unlocked auditorium filled with elaborate costumes on racks, but there
was no sign of any people. I walked past it and found a wall plastered with flyers. There was a bright yellow one, with a picture of a violin on it that said, “Senior Men’s Quartet.”

  I took it off the wall and read it. They were about to give a performance at a place called the South Quad. I checked a university map on the wall and got myself pointed in the direction.

  I found the quad easily and made my way to one of the folding chairs. I had two rows all to myself. The men were already on stage and were still warming up. The group was less formally attired than that night at the Baxter house, but they were easy to recognize as the same group.

  The timing and showmanship of their performance was very good. The few students in attendance seemed rapt. I got involved myself, swaying to the beat, enjoying the warm afternoon air.

  After the performance I stood and clapped along with a smattering of other listeners. They quickly collected their instruments, and I jumped up to cut them off before they were more than a few steps from the stage.

  “That was great,” I said.

  They thanked me and started to walk around me when I said, “I have heard you play before, at the Baxter house, and I need to talk to you about it.”

  The cello player stepped forward to talk. “Lady, you’re cute and all, but we already talked to the police.”

  “What did you tell them?” I asked.

  “I told them I didn’t see anything. None of us did. We never went in the kitchen. We came in the side door, and Maestro Cooper told us to sit in the hallway and we did. That’s it, man.”

  “Did they tell you what happened that night?” I asked

  “They told us that some lady and some dude got poisoned. But, we didn’t do it. I swear.”

  “I believe you,” I said and reached my hand out to shake his. “My name’s Fanchon. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly, but I’m only asking because I’m sure that somebody else got up and walked into the kitchen during the party.”

  “They didn’t, dude. Why do you even care?” he asked.

  I lied and told him that the two people poisoned were my brother and sister, and he apologized and said he wished he could help.

  Another young man stepped forward, taller than the first and holding a violin case. He asked, “Were you the one who played the Danse Macabre that night?”

  “Yes,” I replied, and the group lit up.

  “That was awesome. I cracked the door so I could see who was playing. I thought that was you.”

  The cello player said, “You made us nervous to go on. Usually those rich old bags just play something like Fur Elise or some other first year crap and everybody claps politely knowing it’s a bunch of bullshit.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Seriously guys, can you help me out? Tell me everything that happened that night. Maybe you saw something you didn’t know was important.”

  The violinist spoke again. “I’ll tell you all I remember, but can you walk and talk? We have to get to the auditorium.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Are you guys in the parade tonight?”

  “Not tonight. We are riding in the big one, Endymion,” the cellist said.

  As we walked, the violinist stayed in step with me. He introduced himself as John. He looked down at his feet as he told me what he saw that night. It was mostly sitting in the hall, watching wait staff run back and forth. The rest of the group agreed, and they swore they all stayed together, except Chris, the cello player, who went to the bathroom twice, because he ate some bad shrimp.

  We were almost back to the music building when John said, “This might be none of my business, but what happened to your leg?”

  I looked down at my scarred leg and my face turned red. He immediately apologized for asking.

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  “Does it make it hard to play the piano?”

  “When it first happened it did. I had a cast on, but I just finished almost nine months of physical therapy. I have a brace, but I don’t need to wear it most days.

  “Wow. You just finished nine months of therapy so it like, just happened?”

  “It was the single most frightening thing that ever happened to me.

  “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m around,” he said and opened the door to the building for me. I stepped in to the foyer with them and told them I had to head out. John lingered after the other guys left and acted like he had something to say. But after a few moments he just said he hoped that I would find out what happened.

  I made my way back to the meeting point and found Claudia waiting. I told her I really needed my money and my bag, and she drove me to Maurice’s storage unit. We found The General where Beau had left it, with a ticket under the wiper. The passenger side window was rolled down enough for us to unlock the door. I searched the car and found the calendar from Curly’s house under the seat. I tucked it into the bag, which still had some cash and my belongings in it, and we left.

  Claudia dropped me off at home. I walked in and passed Wyatt and Grant, who waved and went back to their game as if I had not just been involved in a two-day manhunt.

  I went to my bedroom and bent over my bed, pulling my blankets back to look for my phone, when I felt a pair of hands reach around from behind me and touch my stomach. I nearly screamed, but one of the hands gently covered my mouth. It was a hand I knew well, rough on the palm, soft on the back.

  He whispered, “Shh.”

  I freed my face and said, “Beau you scared me half to death.”

  He laughed and moved his hand to my hip. I found his lips on mine and pushed him away.

  “What happened to you?” I said.

  “I went down to the police station after you. Couldn’t get anybody to give me a jump. Banyan said I might face an obstruction charge if they get you for murder. I think I lost my job at the parish station. I have a meeting tomorrow with the sergeant about it.”

  “Why would you be fired? You weren’t at work,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter, Fanchon. I don’t care about that job.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I was stupid to run. Marlene sent a lawyer to defend me, just like she said she would. I didn’t even spend a minute in the clink. I should have just gone in like they said.”

  “You didn’t know they’d let you out like that. Rich folks got a different set of rules than we’re used to. I don’t think it was stupid to run. Hell, I’d have done it.”

  “Well I still don’t know anything.”

  “You’re gonna have to wait it out,” he said. “Let’s wait it out downtown. I want to take you on a real date. Let’s get drunk, watch the parade and get laid.”

  “Let’s go for two out of three.”

  He replied, “All right then. I don’t like parades much anyway.”

  Date night

  Beau took me to a crawfish boil down by the river. He insisted that he pay for the meal so it would be like a real date. We walked downtown and collected handfuls of beads. We wore them and drank fruity liquor called grenades served by street vendors, and when we decided we had enough of the glossy Mardi Gras experience we went on to something more authentic, jazz at Preservation Hall.

  The little music spot was filled to capacity. Everybody was sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms touching and moving in time to the song. Beau and I found a place in the corner and intertwined our arms as we swayed to the music. I loved the close quarters and the raw feel of the building. The floors and walls were dark and unfinished, having the unkempt patina of 50 years of nightly jazz. We could feel the shared heat of a hundred bodies stuffed into one room. The rhythm of the band reverberated through the floor. I found myself in a glowing haze; even the dust in the air was hazy. I found myself smiling at Beau and watching his thick hair get moist with sweat. When he saw me staring he reached over to put his arm around me. He was hot and wet from perspiration, but something drew me to him. I liked the slippery feeling of his well-muscled arms holding me. I moved closer to
him and without missing a beat he touched my chin, tilted my face to his and kissed me. He pulled me close with his hand at the base of my neck and my mouth grew hot from the heat of his tongue and his soft lips moving on mine. I reached my hand up under his shirt and felt his chest, his heavy breathing as he moved his other hand down to my thigh at first gripping and then running just the back of his index finger along my inner thigh.

  His gentle touch covered me in goose bumps. I was lost in the moment forgetting I was in a room with a hundred people, until the music stopped and the room grew silent. I pulled away from Beau and caught my breath. His eyes were still closed and his finger still in a place not fit for public viewing.

  I slid his hand down and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  I jumped up and grabbed his hand, pulling him with me.

  We ran through the crowds, staying together by holding hands. We were back to my house in record time and tried to go straight to my room, but were blocked. Wyatt’s door was locked with a sock on the handle. We knocked for several minutes but never heard a sound on the other side.

  We went around to the back of the house to try to get into the door that led straight to my room, but it, too, was locked, and I suspected the police had my keys wherever they had my car.

  We went back to the front of the house defeated. The mood was lost, and the two of us sat on the futon and drifted off to sleep, sweaty and unfulfilled.

  Crawfish

  I woke up feeling sticky and wet. The sweat dried to my body felt gross, and I had a terrible taste in my mouth. I rolled out from under Beau’s arm and looked at the clock on the microwave. It was already two in the morning, and I had an appointment with the realtor in four hours. I dragged myself up and called a cab company, asking for a driver to meet me within the hour. I jumped in the shower, washed and redressed in my dirty clothes.