Out of the Easy (10 page)

FOURTEEN

I hurried through the noisy morning streets to get to Willie’s on time. I had written several notes to Sweety and finally just settled on
Thank you for the pearls—Jo.

I spotted Jesse on the corner of Conti and Bourbon, his grandad’s flower cart bursting with snaps of color. I stopped to buy two pink lilies.

“Hey, Motor City. You look nice this morning.”

“Aw, come on, Jesse.” I motioned to my cleaning clothes and laughed.

He smiled. “Better than me in this flower apron.”

Jesse and I had gone through parts of grade school and high school together. He lived with his grandparents on Dauphine but spent some years with family in Alabama. When he was in New Orleans, he helped his grandfather, who sold flowers in the Quarter. Once, when I was eleven, Mother was cranky and slapped me across the face in the street. Jesse marched up to her, threw a pail of water on her, and walked away. I wondered if he remembered that.

Occasionally he stopped by the shop to look at engineering books, but he rarely bought anything. He spent most of his time working on cars.

“How are Willie’s nieces doing?” he asked, pulling up the two flowers I had chosen. “Nieces” was the term Willie used for the girls in her house.

“Everyone’s fine.” I smiled. “You?”

“Just started my first semester at Delgado. It’s not Tulane, but I’m excited about it.”

Jesse Thierry was going to college? “Oh, Jesse, that’s wonderful.”

He nodded. “Thanks. And what about you? Don’t pretend you’re not the smartest girl in New Orleans.” A stray piece of hair, the color of dark cinnamon, fell over his ear. His voice dropped, and he looked at me with sincerity. “And now that your mom has relocated, maybe you’ll have more time on your hands.”

I looked up from my coin purse. How did he know about Mother? I paid for the flowers, trying to avoid eye contact, and thanked Jesse as I walked away.

Mother and Cincinnati had planned to hit the road after their dinner at Antoine’s. I had looked at an atlas in the bookshop before I went to bed, wondering how long the drive west to California would take. If they didn’t stop to see any sights, I estimated they’d make it in four days. It would take less than four days, however, for Cincinnati to hit her.

• • • 

I walked into the kitchen at Willie’s. Sadie had Willie’s tray already prepped with the coffee and newspaper. She pointed to the tray urgently as soon as I walked in.

“Willie’s awake already?”

Sadie nodded. I handed her one of the lilies.

“Thank you for ironing my blouse, Sadie. And for getting Willie’s tray ready.”

Sadie looked from the flower to me, smiling, almost embarrassed. Her smile broke, and she pointed emphatically toward Willie’s room.

I grabbed my apron and the tray and walked through the parlor, swaying around a man’s necktie hanging from the chandelier. As I approached Willie’s door, I looked down at the paper.

MEMPHIS TOURIST’S DEATH
DECLARED A HEART ATTACK

I stopped just short of Willie’s door to read the article but didn’t have the chance.

“Are you going to stand out there, or are you going to bring me my coffee?” growled Willie’s voice from behind the door.

“Good morning, Willie.” I made my way into the room.

Willie’s hair and makeup were perfect. She wore a smart beige suit and was sitting at her desk writing. “I want my coffee.”

“You’re up early. Is everything all right?”

“Can’t I get up early?” she snapped.

“Of course, it’s just . . . you’re not usually awake, not to mention dressed, at this hour. Where are you going?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a meeting with my attorney.”

“An attorney, this early? Is everything all right?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Willie continued writing, her head down. “Instead of asking me stupid questions, why don’t you tell me when your mother left for California?”

I set the tray on Willie’s bed. “Did you see her?”

“No, I didn’t see her. But dozens of people told me they heard her bragging on about going to Hollywood with that sad sack. In fact, everyone told me.” Willie turned and stared at me. “Except you.”

I fiddled with my apron. “She asked me to wait until morning to tell you . . . so it wouldn’t disturb last night’s business.”

Willie threw down her pen. “You know what? Your mother’s a stupid, stupid whore!” yelled Willie. “But don’t you dare follow in her lyin’ footsteps, and don’t you
ever
think I’m too stupid to know when you’re lying to me. I know your momma a lot better than you think, and there’s no way she’s takin’ me down.” Willie was screaming full throttle. Her chin jutted out and her face fired a full crimson.

“Willie, what happened? Did Mother steal from you?”

“What? Your mother’s a piece of tail to me, that’s all! The only one she’s ever stolen from is you! And God willing, now she’s gone for good. She can join all the other lying, washed-up losers in Hollywood. And you’ve got to let her go, Jo. Don’t you dare look for her or let her back in. You’re not a child anymore. She’s on her own. Let Cincinnati shoot her full of holes.”

“Willie, stop.”

“Look at this room. You’re late and everything’s a mess! I’ve asked you for three days to clean my guns, and have you? No! You’re off flouncing around, letting people make fun of you at Uptown parties.”

Willie grabbed her purse from the bed, knocking the coffee cup off the tray and onto the floor. It broke with a loud crash. She slammed through the bedroom door so hard I thought she might break it. Sweety and Evangeline were standing outside the door in their robes, bleary-eyed and eavesdropping.

“What are you looking at?” yelled Willie. “Get to bed!” Evangeline stepped aside, letting Willie pass.

“Worst whores ever!” Willie screamed from the rear hallway. She banged through the back door, and within seconds, we heard Mariah’s engine fire up.

I bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken cup.

“Hey, little wench,” said Evangeline, leaning in the door. “Move my stuff into your momma’s room. Make sure everything is washed. I don’t want her stink all over me.”

“Stop it,” said Sweety, pulling Evangeline back and closing the door.

I sat on Willie’s bed, holding the china pieces, still wet from her coffee. Willie said people were making fun of me. Were they?

I had to get out of New Orleans. I had to get into Smith.

FIFTEEN

Sunlight filtered in from the window, creating a square patch of brightness on the end of the bed. Evangeline was right. The room definitely smelled of Mother. I opened the window and sat on the sill for a moment, looking at her high, canopied bed. I had seen Mother spin her guiles on men in public, but I had never seen her “work” in her room. The deep green wallpaper peeled at the corners, revealing the bare plaster beneath. In the quiet light, the cranberry bed linens showed their age, and the drapery sagging from the canopy split and frayed at the edges. I stared at the bullet hole in the headboard. I still didn’t know the story behind that one.

Mother’s room was nearly empty. I opened a drawer in her bureau. A bottle of red nail polish rolled over copies of
Hollywood Digest.
I picked them up for the trash, and a piece of paper fluttered out. It was the police report from when Cincinnati beat Mother. After she was discharged from the hospital, Willie insisted she file a report. We took Mother to the station, and after a few minutes of filling out the form, she said she didn’t feel well and would finish the report at home. I stared at the form. She hadn’t included her last name and even lied about her age.

Name: Louise

Address: 1026 Conti, New Orleans

Age: 28

Marital Status: Single

Children: None

None.

I stared at the word.

“Hey, doll.”

I looked up and found Dora leaning against the door frame. She wore a man’s dress shirt, green of course, along with skimpy green underwear.

“Heard you had a knock-down-drag-out with Willie this morning. I musta slept through it. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” That was my stock answer.

“Don’t pay Willie no mind. She’s been so cranky lately. Whatcha got there?”

I held up the paper. “An old police report, from when Cincinnati beat Mother.”

“Did Louise file a report?” asked Dora.

I laughed. “No, of course not.”

“I wouldn’t think so. She loves her that Cincinnati.”

“I don’t understand it. He’s a criminal, Dora. He’s a really bad man.”

“Honey, some gals love bad men. Women love Cincinnati. He makes ’em feel sexy. And he comes into money from time to time. Now, you may not understand that gals find Cinci attractive, but you do understand that your momma loves money, don’t you?”

I nodded and lifted an empty pink coin purse from Mother’s drawer. “This was mine. I used to keep my savings in it, hidden under my bed. She took it.”

“Oh, sugar.” Dora shook her head. She walked over to me and glanced through the police report. She put her hands on my shoulders. “Jo, you listen, you ain’t one of us. You’re different. Willie knows that.”

I stared at my hands. “I want to go to college, Dora.”

“College? Well, it’s okay to dream, Jo, but I don’t know about college. That’s a different kettle of crawfish. But I’m sure you could work at one of the nice department stores or maybe even be a hatcheck girl. Honey, I know you love Louise, but you gotta ask yourself—what kind of woman steals money from a child? Evangeline, she’s got a condition. But even with her kleptomanny, she wouldn’t steal from a baby. Do you understand what I’m sayin’? I’m not trying to be ugly, sugar, but I do suggest that you go about your way.” Dora lifted the police report. “And if Louise is sayin’ she’s not your momma, that might just suit fine.”

I stood there, thinking about Dora’s question. What sort of a woman steals from her child?

Dora put her hands on her hips. “Now look, help me out with somethin’. Instead of throwing things out, put everything you find in a box and tell Evangeline not to touch it, that you’re coming back for it. Let her steal a few things. Maybe then she’ll quit sneakin’ in my room for a few days.”

After Dora left, I stripped the bed and swept the floor of Mother’s room. I pulled the broom back from under the bed skirt and heard a sound. A man’s sock was caught in the bristles of the broom. I reached down to snatch it up and found it heavy. Something was inside. I shook the sock over the bed, and a gold watch fell onto the mattress. My stomach plunged as my fingers reached for the familiar watch. I turned it over and saw the engraving.

F. L. Hearne.

SIXTEEN

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
I heard it all day, pulsing through my head, pumping through the threads of my nerves. I had a dead man’s watch. It was the first time I hadn’t reported something I’d found to Willie. She was still at the meeting with her attorney when I had finished cleaning, so I left with it, the stolen time bomb ticking in my pocket. When I returned to the bookshop, I inspected the watch. I stared at the second hand as it orbited around the expensive gold face, floating over the words
Lord Elgin
again and again. Was Forrest Hearne wearing the watch when he died? Was it still ticking on his wrist when his heart stopped beating? Or maybe he took it off before he died, lost it somewhere in the Quarter, and it was just by luck that Mother found it. Yes, maybe it was just a coincidence, I told myself.

I sharpened a bookbinding knife and cut a deep square in the center pages of a water-damaged copy of
A Passage to India.
I put the watch in the hollowed-out slot and locked the book in the glass case at the back of the shop where we kept the repair materials. Patrick had lost his key ages ago.

I walked through the Quarter, tossing the square cutouts of
A Passage to India
in waste bins along the way. I spotted Frankie across the road and whistled to him. He sauntered over on his spidery legs and fell into step next to me.