Hide and Snake Murder (6 page)

Houdini took off his striped hat, stuck his hand inside and pulled out a large gold coin. He flipped it in the air, snapped his fingers, and the coin disappeared. Cool.

“Not all of the performers out in the Square do.” His voice rumbled from somewhere below his knees. “A while back a few of us decided it might be more profitable to gang up, so we rented this,” he indicated the space with a sweep of his hand, “and came up with a number of acts we could do together throughout the day.” He shrugged. “It's been working okay.”

April threw the towel aside and sat next to Mary. “Back to you. What's going on?”

I sketched out the bare minimum of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. “We have two major problems. We need to find the stuffed snake and get it back to the goons, unless they do have Rocky. If they do have him, then we trade Baz here—”

Baz barked, “That's NOT part of the deal.”

I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “If that's what it takes … ”

“Enough!” Coop said around another mouthful of gum.

I shifted my gaze off Baz on onto April. “And we have to find Rocky.”

Houdini slid off the barstool. “What's he look like?”

I said, “He's about five-three, maybe 180. In his early forties, I think, but acts more like a kid. He always wears an aviator style cap. The kind with the ear-flaps.”

Houdini nodded.

“He wears that hat no matter how hot it gets.” An ache formed in my temple, and I absently rubbed it with two fingers. “The current hat is blue plaid. He's pretty round. He used to always wear this awful down-filled green winter coat all the time, and I mean
always
. But now he's replaced it with a Twins jacket.”

“The guy loves baseball,” Coop added. “And has one hell of a throwing arm.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “He does. The jacket's varsity style, like kids in high school wear, and it's navy blue with cream-colored sleeves. The Twin's logo is huge. Fills up the entire back.”

“Shouldn't be too hard to find someone in a blue plaid aviator hat and Minnesota Twins jacket around here who goes by the name Rocky. I'll hit the network.” Houdini shucked his cape and tossed it on the table.

“Hang on a second,” Coop said. Houdini stopped. “He's … ” Coop looked at me with his eyebrows raised. I knew exactly where he was going.

“Special,” I said.

Coop said, “He's not crazy, but he is challenged. Don't know what his disability is exactly. He lives on his own back home. What else? He's not too great with strangers. Has some communication quirks.”

Gabby chuckled, and her laugh was very reminiscent of JT's, low and appealing. She tapped a knuckle against her lip thoughtfully. “He reminds me of … what's the name of the lass who always works Royal? 'Dini, you remember, the little clown who does the balloon wallabies?”

April said, “Gab, how many times do we have to tell you it's
animals
, not
wallabies
?”

“Hey, they're all round and chubby.” A good-natured smile tugged up the corners of Gabby's mouth.

Houdini strode to the doors, the heels of his tall black boots clicking sharply against the cement floor. “I'm on it.” He let himself out and slid the door shut.

Baz asked, “What's the network?”

“It's the performer's network,” Mary answered. “We—even the performers who aren't part of our cozy little association here—are comrades in arms, so to speak. We watch out for each other's backs.”

I looked at my watch. Almost 7:15 p.m. It was later than I realized. Eddy still hadn't called. I was hungry, wired, tired, and rattled. If we could get some answers, and pretty freaking soon, I'd feel a lot better.

I opened my mouth to speak when my cell rang. Eddy's smiling face filled the screen.

Eddy said without preamble, “We're at the Jardin Royal. They're still figuring out a room. And that boy has still not shown up. The front desk at the other joint is keeping an eye out. I gave them this number in case he does.”

“Okay. We'll see you soon.”

I hung up and looked at April. “It's been great catching up, but we really need to get to the hotel.”

Gabby asked, “Where are they staying?”

“The Jardin Royal,” I said.

“Not far. Would you like another lift? I've time if you'd like.”

Baz looked over at the ice cream cart. “I really don't—”

“You will if you don't want us breathing down your neck.” Coop told Baz.

“Okay. Fine.” Baz crossed his arms, trying and failing to appear belligerent. “I'd love to ride in your cart again, Gabby.”

We bid our farewells after swapping cell phone numbers with the McNichis and Gabby. Gabby grabbed a towel and swabbed the bottom of the ice cream cart as dry as she could. I was glad she was good about thawing out her freezer on a regular basis, or we'd have been stuck in way more melted ice and frost than the few drops my pants and shirt soaked up. This time we much more carefully settled ourselves inside the freezer, and Mary handed us our bags.

The cart bounced and jounced along the street for ten or fifteen minutes, and finally came to a stop. The moped engine stilled, and then the latches clicked open. Gabby's face appeared as she lifted the top off the cooler and set it to the side.

“Here you are, mates. Hurry now.”

As I shook my legs out to restore circulation, I realized Gabby had gone around to the rear of the hotel and parked in the alley next to a big green dumpster. The aroma coming from it suggested the hotel restaurant recently had fish on its menu.

“Okay, my new friends, I hope things work out. We'll let you know if Houdini finds your friend.” She put the lid back on the cart.

“Thanks much for the help, Gabby.” I said.

“You're welcome.” She finished reattaching the cover, and gave me an impromptu hug, held just a little too long to be simply friendly. She whispered, her breath warm against my skin, “If you're ever in town, I'd love to get together.” Her meaning was crystal clear. A shiver ran down my spine. Thankfully, she stepped away, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, her eyes hot on mine. The temptation was palpable.

I broke eye contact.
No, Shay. You're not that person anymore.
But I wasn't dead either.

The moment passed, and Baz and Coop obliviously echoed their thanks. After another lingering gaze, Gabby motored off.

I forced my attention to our current situation, letting any thoughts of Gabby slip away. We snuck in the back door of the Jardin Royal, and Coop and Baz decided to hang at a table in the bar while I talked to the front desk.

I waited while an older couple checked in.

The clerk greeted me with a smile. I said, “Can you tell me Edwina Quartermaine's room?”

The front desk attendants all wore black and yellow uniforms, and it reminded me of worker bees buzzing about. After keying in Eddy's name, he drawled, “I can't give you that information.”

I was beginning to feel like swatting him. “Can you call the room and let her know she has a visitor?” I tried to keep my voice even.

The attendant stared intently at a computer monitor hidden behind the ledge of the glossy teak counter. Finally he said, “I can ring you through.”

Jeez.

He handed me the receiver.

No answer. It was becoming the story of my life.

I left another message. “Thanks.” I handed the phone back and turned away from the desk. I headed through the turn-of-the-century lobby toward the bar. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and swung me around.

“Shay! You're a sight for these sore eyes.”

My heart stilled, then began to pound wildly in my chest. “Eddy!” I threw my arms around her.

After a rib-crushing hug, Eddy released me. “I know I shouldn't be, but I'm glad you're here.” She reached up and patted my cheek.

Her dark-brown eyes looked sunken, and her ever-ready smile was absent. Salt and pepper hair shaved close to her scalp framed the smooth cocoa-colored skin on her face.

She said, “We've been walking the streets. That boy is nowhere to be found. I think I plumb near wore Agnes out.” If Eddy was on a mission, watch out. I could hardly keep up with her myself when she was going full-steam-ahead.

Then I noticed Agnes behind Eddy. Talk about opposites. She was thin and taller than I was, even with her slightly stooped shoulders. She was as pale as Eddy was dark. Eddy's extra bit of padding made her huggable, whereas an Agnes embrace felt as if I was squeezing a pliable beanpole.

Agnes said, “Eddy sure did wear me out. First finding that all-night card game and then dragging me through the nastiest corners of the French Quarter. We're lucky you didn't get us killed when you kept waking up the street people asking if they'd seen Rocky.”

Eddy glared at her. “Did you have a better idea? No. If it's been up to you, we'd still be sitting at that poker table.”

“I was on a streak—”

“Losing streak.”

“Not until those last hands—”

“That's right. That's when I kicked your skinny butt.”

“You didn't do any butt kicking, you old bat. That prissy man on your right took my last chip.”

Eddy inhaled and was about to unleash another insult.

“LADIES!” I shouted. Agnes and Eddy were good pals, but picked at each other about anything and everything. It didn't really matter what the subject was, they could find something to yap about.

They glared at another a moment longer, broke eye contact.

I studied Agnes. “You look like you could use a breather.” Dark circles ringed her watery blue eyes, and her face looked even more pinched than usual. Of course, one problem was that she imbibed a little too much vodka a little too often. She hadn't had an easy life, and I thought she deserved sainthood for taking Baz in after her niece—Baz's mom—skipped town with a door-to-door insurance salesman. That was after Baz's dad keeled over and expired at the racetrack one hot summer day, in the middle of betting away the family nest egg. The apple sure didn't fall far from the tree.

She waved a knobby-knuckled hand at me. “I really am concerned for Rocky. Don't you worry about me, I'm fine.”

I said, “I know you are. Come on. Coop and Baz are in the bar.”

We found Coop ogling a tanned young woman sitting two stools down from where he and Baz were perched. She had a pack of Newports sitting in front of her and was puffing away as she chatted with the bartender. I realized, after a second, that Coop was drooling over the cigarettes, not the girl.

Baz slumped dejectedly, one hand holding up his chin, and the other making repeated trips from a basket of popcorn to his mouth. He straightened up as soon as he caught sight of us and brightened perceptibly.

“Basil!” Agnes said. “What have you done now?”

Coop ripped his attention away from the pack of smokes and muttered under his breath, “Long fucking story.”

Good thing Agnes had a hearing problem.

“Hey,” Baz said as he slid off the stool. “Agnes. Wow, am I ever glad to see you.” Watching Agnes embrace short little Baz was a sight. It looked like a she was hugging a rotund ten-year-old.

“And Nicholas. How are you, dear?” Agnes patted Coop's cheek.

“Doing fine. We need to have another dominoes rematch sometime soon. After we deal with Baz's problem.” Dominoes was the latest Mad Knitters fad. While poker still held the number one spot as their non-knitting diversion of choice, they always liked to broaden their gaming horizons, as Eddy was fond of saying.

“Indeed we do, dear, indeed we do.” Agnes fixed her eyes on Baz. “What's going on now, nephew?” She arched a thin, penciled-in eyebrow at him.

I spoke before Baz could answer. “Let's take this reunion to your hotel room.” The last thing we needed was another surprise appearance of the despicable duo, especially before we'd completely briefed Agnes and Eddy on what was going down.

We exited the elevator in the middle of the second floor. The hallway was narrow but beautifully maintained. Eight rooms occupied each side, and six-paned windows let light in at each end. A red and black runner stretched the length of the hardwood floor. Antique wall sconces flickered next to each entry.

Agnes stopped in front of the third room from the end and unlocked the door with an old-fashioned key.

Two double beds and a table with three ladder-back chairs occupied half the space. The other half contained a sleeper sofa, a TV, and a small refrigerator. The carpet was a lush maroon pile and the walls were painted light sepia. An early-twentieth-century drawing of the French Quarter hung above the table.

Eddy and Agnes claimed two of the chairs while Baz took the third. Coop and I perched on the bed.

Agnes said, “Okay, Basil. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Why does everyone think I'm always doing something wrong?” Baz grumbled.

I leaned back and propped myself up with my elbows. “It's like your calling card. Your state of being.”

Baz sneered at me. “Oh you think you're all that—”

“Do not!”

“Do too. Ever since you got that prize for climbing rope the fastest in gym class in second grade—”

“At least I could do it. If I remember right, you couldn't make it off the ground.”

“I have weak arms.”

“Weak arms? I think your problem was you schmoozed one too many pieces of cake from the cooks.”

“You're just jealous I got extra—”

“Children!” Eddy bellowed. “Shut up.”

I snapped my mouth closed. Baz and I could be a little Eddy and Agnes-like at times.

In a quieter voice, Eddy said, “Basil, just tell us what's happened.”