Longarm and the Voodoo Queen (14 page)

Longarm opened the door a crack and saw the man standing in the corridor alone. No one was forcing him to say anything at gunpoint. Longarm hadn't really expected that to be the case, but it didn't hurt to be sure.

"What is it?" asked Longarm.

"There's somebody out here looking for you, Mr. Parker," replied the bartender. "She says you know her."

"Miss Clement?"

The bartender shook his head. "No, sir, she's, ah, definitely not Miss Clement."

Longarm glanced back at Millard, who shook his head. "I don't know anything about it, Parker. You'll have to go see for yourself."

"I'll do that," Longarm said. He holstered his gun and opened the door wide enough so that he could step out into the corridor. He followed the bartender back to the main room, and as they walked along the hallway, the man said, "I hated to bother you while you were talking to Mr. Millard, but the lady was very insistent that she see you."

"Well, I'm glad you fetched me then," said Longarm, deliberately keeping his tone light. "A fella never likes to keep a lady waiting for too long."

They stepped out into the main room of the club, and Longarm's companion pointed toward the bar. "There she is, over there."

Longarm looked where he was pointing and stopped short in surprise.

Standing nervously near the end of the bar, darting occasional glances at the door as if she thought this was a bad idea and wanted to flee, was Claudette.

CHAPTER 10

Longarm managed to overcome his surprise enough to put a smile of welcome on his face as he got his muscles working again and walked toward Claudette. He held out his hands and took hold of both of hers. "It's good to see you," he said honestly. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I come to see you, me," she said. "Time I got away from that bayou, you bet."

The words were brave, but Longarm wasn't sure how sincere they were. There was a look in her eyes like a wild animal might have had after being dropped down in a place like this. The crowd inside the Brass Pelican, though small by some standards, probably seemed huge to her. And the noise--the piano, the spinning of the roulette wheel, the shrill laughter and coarse talk--had to be unsettling to someone accustomed to the whisper of the wind and the cry of the loon.

Some of the club's customers were openly staring at her too, which had to make her even more nervous. Longarm took her arm, clasping it just above the elbow in a gentle grip, and led her toward one of the empty tables. "Let's sit down," he suggested.

He noticed that Millard had emerged from the door to the rear corridor and was watching them curiously, but he didn't approach them. Millard had to be wondering who Claudette was, thought Longarm.

At the moment, she didn't look much like the bayou gal she had been the last time Longarm had seen her. She had cleaned herself up and was wearing a simple, inexpensive gray dress. The other women in the Brass Pelican were dressed in much finer clothes, but none of them could hold a candle to Claudette when it came to sheer beauty. Her nervousness had reminded Longarm of a wild animal; she had a wild animal's fresh, unspoiled, clean-limbed beauty as well. Which did even more than her clothes to make her seem out of place in the gambling club.

Longarm held her chair for her and then sat down beside her. "I'm mighty flattered you'd come all this way to see me," he told her. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. Been too long in the bayous, me. The world is big-big. Thought it was time to see some more of her."

Longarm could understand that. He had been fiddle-footed himself after the war, like a lot of young men. That restlessness had led him to go West, also like a lot of others. So he knew what Claudette meant about wanting to see something different. She might never be truly happy for long out of the bayou country, but for now a change of scenery wouldn't hurt her.

"How'd you find me?" he asked her. "I don't recollect mentioning that I worked here."

"You did not. I talk to that farmer man who bring you into town, I did. I know 'most ever'body round them bayous and shinneries, so it didn't take long to find him. He tell me he sees you walk off toward this street when he stop at the French Market, so I come a-knockin' on doors, askin' folks what answer if they know this mos' handsome man name of Custis."

He tried not to grin at the flattery. From what she was saying, he had made quite an impression on her. They'd had a lot of fun on the bunk in that cabin of hers, but he didn't think that was enough to bring her all the way up here.

He hoped she hadn't convinced herself that she was in love with him.

That was a sobering thought. Longarm said, "I'm glad you came for a visit, but-"

"No visit," she broke in. "Stay here in N'Awleans, I will. Get me a job." She looked around. "Maybe workin' in a place like this." Longarm shook his head. "You don't want to work here."

"Why not? You do," she pointed out with impeccable logic.

"That's different. I'm a man, and you're-"

She pointed at one of Millard's hostesses, who was wearing a lacy, low-cut gown and hanging on the arm of a gambler at the roulette table. "I could do a job like that," said Claudette. "Look pretty an' be nice to the gentlemans."

That was true enough, Longarm supposed. Claudette was certainly pretty enough to be one of the Brass Pelican's hostesses. But he knew there was more to their job than that. Some of them worked the upstairs rooms, and they also had to make themselves available to Millard whenever he wanted one of them. Working at the Brass Pelican was a step up from whoring on the street and in the cribs--but only a step.

"Forget it," Longarm said flatly. "You don't want to work here, Claudette."

Her eyes widened with hurt. "You don't want me here, you."

"That's not it-"

"Ashamed that you even know a bayou gal like me, you bet." She started to stand up. "Well, I won't bother you no more, Custis. I be gone out of here, and you not have to see me again."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Longarm said in exasperation. "Let's eat this apple one bite at a time. Do you mean you're going back to the bayou country?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No. I stay here in N'Awleans, fin' me some other job to do."

Longarm sighed. If she stayed here, unaccustomed to city life, with no friends and no money, she would be working the streets within a week. He was certain of it. And he didn't want that for Claudette. She deserved better. If he got her a job here at the Brass Pelican, at least he could keep an eye on her.

"All right," he said. "I ain't promising nothing, but I'll see what I can do. I'll go talk to the boss right now."

A smile lit up her face. "You would do this for me?"

"Sure." Under his breath, he added, "Don't reckon I've got much choice."

With all the threads of the investigation he had picked up, anxious to follow them to their source, this problem with Claudette was an unwelcome distraction. But then, most of life was a distraction, and a hell of a lot of it was unwelcome, he reflected. He'd just have to make do as best he could, and by the time he wrapped up the case and left New Orleans, maybe Claudette would be ready to go back home.

While Claudette waited anxiously at the table, Longarm went over to Jasper Millard, who was standing at the end of the bar, and said, "Boss, I've got a favor to ask of you."

"I'm not sure you've been working for me long enough to ask favors, Parker," said Millard. "But then, you seem to figure you've got some special privileges."

Clearly, Millard hadn't forgotten about finding Longarm in the office. Longarm said, "I told you, that won't happen again." He shook his head. "Lord, the trouble a man gets into sometimes just because he wants a smoke."

In spite of himself, Millard chuckled. "Go ahead, Parker," he said. "Ask your favor. I'm not promising anything, but I'll listen."

"Thanks. You see that lady over there at the table, the one who came looking for me?"

Millard glanced over at Claudette, then looked again. "She's a good looker. Friend of yours?"

"You could say that. She's trying to find a job."

"And she wants to work here? She must really want to spend time around you, Parker."

Longarm gave a slight shrug. "I told her I'd ask you about it."

"Let me see..." Millard studied Claudette for a long moment, then said, "At first glance, she doesn't seem the type. But if she was cleaned up a little more and borrowed some dresses from the other girls... I suppose I could use her. If that's what you really want, Parker."

Longarm wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. "I'm much obliged, Boss," he told Millard. "I'll tell her she's got the job."

"Why don't you let me do that?" asked Millard, surprising Longarm. Without waiting for Longarm's reply, he sauntered over to the table where Claudette waited. Her eyes got big as he approached.

"Welcome to the Brass Pelican, my dear," Millard said as he came up to the table. He leaned over, took Claudette's hand, and brushed his lips across the back of it. It would have been difficult to say who was more surprised, Claudette or Longarm. Millard went on. "Our mutual friend Mr. Parker tells me that you'd like to work here. As it turns out, I'm in need of another hostess, so if you'd like the job..."

"Oh, Lordy, I sure would, me," said Claudette breathlessly. "Thank you, Mr.?"

"Millard, Jasper Millard. I'm sure we'll become very well acquainted while you're here, my dear."

Longarm's hackles rose at the suggestive tone in Millard's voice, but he drew a tight rein on his temper. Claudette was a grown woman, and she hadn't been a virgin when he met her. So she wasn't completely unaware of the ways of the world. He would look out for her as best he could, but she would also have to take care of herself. Besides, no one had appointed him her guardian.

Millard crooked a finger at one of the hostesses, a blonde in a tight red dress. "Tessie, this is... I'm sorry, I don't know your name, my dear."

"Claudette," she supplied with a smile.

"This is Claudette, Tessie," continued Millard. "Take her upstairs, get her settled in, and see about arranging for the temporary loan of several gowns. Claudette's going to be working here, and since she's a friend of Mr. Parker's, I want her treated right."

The blonde glanced at Longarm, shrugged, and nodded. Clearly, the fact that Claudette was his friend didn't really mean anything to her, but she would do whatever Millard told her.

"Come on, honey," she said to Claudette. "I'll take care of YOU."

Claudette stood up, smiled nervously at Longarm and Millard, and followed Tessie upstairs. Millard turned to Longarm and asked, "Satisfied, Parker?"

"I reckon we'll see," said Longarm.

Tessie came back downstairs a little later and told Longarm and Millard, "This is going to take a while. I've got her soaking in a hot tub, and she doesn't act like she wants to get out. I think this might be the first real bath she's ever had!"

Longarm figured that was possible. Since it was still fairly early and the crowd in the club was still small, he said to Millard, "I think I'll go get a bite to eat, if that's all right with you, Boss?"

Millard waved a hand. "Sure, go ahead. Just don't get lost. If Annie Clement's in here tonight, I don't want her spending the whole evening asking me where you are."

Longarm grinned ruefully at the thought of Annie and Claudette being in the same place at the same time. That was a definite likelihood. He might be wise to keep them apart as much as possible.

As if reading Longarm's mind, Millard chuckled and said, "Didn't think of that when you asked me to hire her, did you?"

"Well, to be honest, no," admitted Longarm. "But I reckon I'll just have to make the best of it now. I'll worry about it after supper."

He left the club, but he wasn't looking for something to eat. Instead, he headed for the docks. That notebook he had discovered in Millard's desk earlier in the day still bothered him. Or rather, not the notebook itself, but the information he had found written down in it. He was still intensely curious about those ships that had left New Orleans bound for Saint Laurent.

Gallatin Street was only a block away from the river, but the levee area was around the great curve of the Mississippi that gave New Orleans its nickname of the Crescent City. Where Canal Street met the waterfront was the hub of the shipping industry. Longarm spent the next hour roaming through the area. Ships were docked two and three deep at the wharves. Loading and unloading began before dawn and went on by torchlight until well after midnight. From the north came the riverboats with their tall smokestacks and their paddle wheels. The goods they brought downriver were transferred onto tall-masted sailing ships that would ply the waters of the Gulf and then head across the Atlantic to Europe. Likewise, the cargoes they brought on their return voyages were loaded onto the steamships and carried back up the mighty Mississippi. It was a thriving trade, with merchandise of every conceivable kind passing through this port.

At the moment, however, Longarm was interested only in the ships that had sailed for Saint Laurent, so he asked around until someone pointed him toward a burly black stevedore who reminded him somewhat uncomfortably of the man Longarm had been forced to kill the night before.