Imogene in New Orleans (14 page)

“I knowed I have, son. There was this jolly feller tending bar at the pirate shop, and he told me that young ’un there was Catfish for certain. And not only that, but he tells me Glenway knew him too. That’s when I got his photo, when he was runnin’ from me.”

Neil nodded. “Well, Imogene, I see the fishing lure. I think that is Catfish’s hat in the picture you took. And it’s gone now, no doubt.”

“Yep. I knew you’d listen at me, Neil. You’re sweet. These boys think they got all the answers. Somebody come and got that cap between yesterday and today, and I believe it was Catfish. Couldn’t be nobody else. Now, who’d want a hat that bad? A country boy. Like my Virgil was. Fishermen are superstitious, son. If they find somethin’ lucky, they stick to it and don’t let it go. I’s raised in the Alabama woods and I know it like I know my name. There’s a reason it’s missin’.”

Jackson continued looking around the room. He felt guilty for not paying more heed to Imogene, but he couldn’t worry about it, because he had yet to spot the curio with its broken latch. He said, “That’s not the only thing missing. Where’s the curio where Glenway kept his figurines?” He started throwing things around—easels, cloths, and canvases. He walked to the door and stood near the spot where he remembered it.

“Maybe it got knocked over,” Neil said, hunting for it in the darker corners of the studio.

“No.” Jackson pointed to the imprint in the floor where four lines of dust created a perfectly rectangular shape. “Here’s the empty space where the curio once stood. It’s gone now.”

Neil clapped his hands together. “Dammit. I’m calling the city councilor. He’ll put us in contact with the evidence technician. If Rogers and his bunch won’t do their job, then we will.”

Imogene limped over as Neil dialed the number. She leaned in to hear the conversation. Neil spoke with a loud voice. In just a moment, Neil had his government friend on the line, telling him what was going on and asking for the number to the evidence technician. “What do you mean you can’t give me the number? Why? It shouldn’t be illegal.”

Jackson saw Neil’s shoulders slump. When he hung up the phone and thrust it in his pocket, Jackson said, “Hey, Neil, I got an idea. Let me call the police station myself. Can you get me the number? I’ll act like I’m a detective working the case. With what we’ve seen from the police, I bet I can get the information.”

Neil called out the numbers while Jackson dialed. Jackson cleared his throat as someone answered from the police station. “Yes, this is Detective Miller. I need to speak with the evidence room immediately.” He was patched through to the room. “Yes, Detective Miller here. I’m following up a lead on the Glenway Gilbert case. I need to know if you still have the figurines booked into evidence. They’re precious stones carved by the deceased.” He cupped the receiver with two fingers and told Neil the technician was checking. “You don’t have any figurines in evidence? Do you know what happened to them? Hmm, they weren’t included in the case? So you don’t know about them? I see.” Jackson shook his head and then he lost a little color in his face. “No, I don’t have to give you my badge number. I’m a detective for the city of New Orleans. No, I will not hold.” Jackson hung up the phone.

“What’d they say, Jack?” Imogene said.

“They don’t have any figurines in the evidence. I think the person who killed Glenway came back here for the carved pieces and took the curio. Those pieces never made it to the station.”

Just then, they heard the sound of a police radio in the courtyard outside, in between the front gallery and the studio. An officer in blue stood in the glass doorframe, blocking the light through the French doors. “Hey, you can’t be in here. This is a crime scene.” He began fiddling with some keys, trying to open the locked door.

“Let’s go. Come on.” Jackson grabbed Imogene’s arm, and she hopped toward the back of the room as quickly as she could. Neil nearly pushed them over, trying to leave the studio. Jackson grabbed a high-backed chair near the futon and dragged it out into the alley. He propped it underneath the doorknob. Goose followed them as they hurried to the cars. They heard the handle shaking from the inside.

After swinging Imogene’s legs into the car, Jackson ran to the driver’s side and looked back. He saw the officer pressing his face against the glass in the window, speaking on the radio to someone.

“Get goin’, Jack. He’s callin’ for help.”

Jackson sped out of the alley, followed by Neil. Neil called him on the phone and told them to meet at his house. They passed a police car going the opposite direction on St. Charles Avenue, and Jackson slowed down so much that Neil passed him, which Imogene pointed out vehemently.

“Son, you drivin’ like an old man. Even Neil’s overtook you.”

Billy told him not to listen to her, but he sped up anyway.

At the house, Allen stood on the edge of the porch, waiting for them. “The phone’s been ringing off the hook. What’s going on with you guys? Caller ID says it’s the NOPD, but with the trouble we’ve had from Lieutenant Rogers, I didn’t answer it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Neil said. “Probably just Rogers returning my calls after all the messages I left this morning. Listen, Allen, someone raided Glenway’s studio. The curio cabinet with the figurines is gone, and so are all those expensive pieces. An officer caught us at the studio and we ran.”

Allen rubbed his beard. “You know what’s odd? Why weren’t Glenway’s figurines and the curio booked into evidence?”

Neil jumped on the porch. “That’s what we said. I’ll tell you why. The police are doing a half-assed job, Allen, and I suspect Lieutenant Rogers is much worse than an officer of the law. Come on. You gotta see these pictures.”

Lena stuck her head out the window of her praline shop. Her gray hair bobbed under her New Orleans Saints hat. She waved at Imogene to come to her. The boys went inside, following Allen to the back of the house. Goose was the last one to trail through, because he had to stop at every open door and have a sniff. His nails tapped the hardwood floors as he walked.

When they made it to the back, Jackson said, “I love these camelback houses in New Orleans, with the staircase leading from the kitchen up to the spare bedroom and bathroom. Such a unique design.”

“Yeah, we like the storage space on the second floor,” Neil said.

Goose took the steps two at a time, and he didn’t wait for the others, pushing through the boys at the top and bursting through a white sheet, which kept the guest room cool.

Allen began clearing the paintings off the walls in the room. He pointed at Jackson as he explained his plan. “You’ve got pictures there and the names of the men from Glenway’s book, right? I say we put everything in front of us. Everything needs to be on this wall.” He had a marker, tape, and copier paper. He wrote Glenway’s name in all caps and pasted it in the middle of the white wall.

“A very fine idea, Allen. Billy and I’ve watched enough television shows to know what you’re thinking.” Jackson grabbed a marker. Allen massaged his beard as he watched Jackson.

“We chased Buddy this morning. All I wanted to do was ask him some questions about Glenway, but as soon as I started talking, he took off. That dude’s quick. He was wearing new shoes, too, which I bet Glenway bought him. Let’s put his name here along with the postcard of him as Bacchus.” He taped the art event advertisement to the wall. “Also, we’ve got a few pictures Imogene took of him this morning in Café du Monde. Of course, they’re mostly of his back, but we’ve got this one here when he was walking toward her. She’s lucky Buddy didn’t knock her off the chair. And then when he walked outside, she took another one of him glaring at her.” Jackson backed up from the wall and admired the beginnings of the work. He saw Billy sitting quietly on the cool sheets of the bed, studying Allen and Neil’s reactions. Goose lumbered over to him and licked his leg.

Neil said, “We have to include Rogers. I would’ve added him first, as much trouble as he’s been. I’m convinced he’s done nothing to help this investigation because he was involved in the murder.” Neil wrote Rogers’s name in capital letters and taped it above Glenway’s name on the wall. “He arrived at Glenway’s studio before the police could have possibly gotten to the scene. I believe he’s been spying on y’all at Chez Hill, and of course, he arrested me for no reason. He knows a lot more than he’s saying, and he certainly knows enough to launch a serious investigation into Glenway’s murder. Which means we need to do the investigating, since he won’t.”

Billy stood up. “Put these pictures around Glenway’s name. They’re from his studio when we found him.”

Jackson helped him tape the back of the photos. “Good idea, my crumpet.”

Billy applied them to the wall. “Remember, Glenway was beaten with something that caused an indentation in the back of his skull. Does anyone know what might have caused this?” He looked at Neil and Allen without flinching. Jackson hoped that Neil and Allen wouldn’t take Billy’s question as an accusation.

“Maybe a fireplace poker,” Allen said, scratching his face. He picked up a magic marker and shifted it through his fingers. He looked at Billy. “Yeah, that could have done it. If it were wide and long, because the bruises on Glenway’s back were wide. Did Glenway have a fireplace in his studio or gallery?”

“No, he didn’t,” Neil said, “but during the winter, he sometimes used a portable fire pit out there in the courtyard. I’ve seen it. Seems he did use some kind of tool to stir and prod the logs. The only thing is I haven’t seen it lately, because it’s summer.” Neil studied the pictures Billy and Jackson were taping to the wall. “Have you guys seen one since you’ve been down here…I mean at the studio or anywhere?”

Neither of the boys had. Billy continued putting pictures on the wall. “So, today we discovered at least two items missing from Glenway’s studio, items Mama photographed yesterday—the curio with the broken lock and the mesh hat, which she thinks belongs to Catfish. Like Jackson said, there’s a chance the person who murdered Glenway also stole the rest of the figurines, which you say he complained all summer were being stolen.”

Neil hit the top of the wall near the lieutenant’s name. “Yeah, Glenway complained to this meathead, who did nothing to help.” He scowled at Rogers’s name on the wall.

“As much as I hate to even mention the name ‘Catfish’ because of the way Mama acts about him—and if she were here, I wouldn’t dare—but she took these pictures of him.” Billy showed Neil and Allen the pictures of the young man in the bar. “As you heard yourself, she claims she saw Catfish today at the ‘pirate shop’ she won’t quit talking about, which as you know is really Lafitte’s. But anyway, she says that some bartender at Lafitte’s pointed him out while Jackson and I were running after Buddy. And then we discovered the mesh hat missing from Glenway’s studio.”

Allen said, “My gosh, Imogene oughta be up here rather than us. What’s she doing?”

Billy said she was with Lena over at the praline shop. The men stood looking at what they had.

Jackson removed the list from his pocket and began writing the names of the other persons of interest. “Do y’all know why Imogene decided to stop in Lafitte’s today? No? Because of this name here.” Jackson taped up “Pirate” in the empty space on the right side of the wall. “She hopped on a tour cart, an open bus, while we were occupied with Buddy. She said as soon as the guide mentioned the pirate Jean Lafitte, she started thinking about the man from Glenway’s book.”

“We also have Blue Moon, Canebrake, Catfish, and someone named TH. I met a man in the park today named Thurston, and he acted more than a little suspicious when I started asking about Glenway and Buddy and the murder. He’s a bald-headed guy, nearing seventy years old, I’d say, and uses an antique cane. I first spotted him talking to Buddy, actually, and after we lost the hustler, we came back to Jackson Square to find him in the same place, reading a Sherwood Anderson book that’s out of print. He apparently has good taste. I imagine he would love to have Glenway’s art pieces. When I asked him about the initials ‘TH,’ he became defensive, and as soon as I turned around, he fled the park.” Jackson saw Neil looking at him with his head slanted, as if he didn’t approve of Jackson’s assessment. “What’s wrong?”

Neil jerked back. “Oh, I don’t think ‘TH’ stands for Thurston. I don’t think you know Thurston at all.”

Allen poked Neil in the ribs and then interrupted him. “Guys, so, what you’re saying is you and Imogene have found three people who might be from Glenway’s book? I bet that’s three more people than Rogers has investigated.”

Jackson wondered what Neil meant by the comment regarding Thurston and TH. Billy touched his hand as if to signal they would talk about it later.

“This is a good start.” Allen sounded like he wanted to redirect the conversation. “I’d like to know more about this Catfish character.”

“You and Mama both. She won’t quit obsessing about that guy or Lafitte’s, where she found him.” Billy sat down and stuck his hand in his medical satchel. He placed his index finger in his pulse oximeter, a little contraption that checks oxygen levels in the blood through the fingertip pulse.

Neil cocked his head, apparently still defensive. He said, “Catfish could’ve just as easily stolen the figurines, don’t you think, Jackson? He might have killed our friend Glenway on Thursday night and then returned to the studio after seeing Imogene asking about him at Lafitte’s. I bet Catfish swiped the curio and his mesh cap today, because as we know from Imogene’s pictures, both the curio and the hat were in Glenway’s studio yesterday when we found the body.”

Jackson tried to digest Neil’s reaction to Thurston and the initials TH. He noticed Billy’s finger stuck in the device. Billy had tense, worried lips. He looked up from the oximeter. “Well, maybe. Mother did say that was probably Catfish’s lucky hat. He could’ve killed Glenway. He was certainly physically able to do it.”

Billy’s cell phone rang and he looked at the screen. “Do you recognize this number? It has a New Orleans area code.”

Allen leaned over it and nodded. “Yeah, that’s the number at Lena’s Place, next door.” Billy picked it up. “Hello? Hey…Mother, calm down…You’re screaming in my