Longarm and the Voodoo Queen (3 page)

But Longarm didn't think so. He couldn't see how it was possible for any of the criminal element in New Orleans to know who he really was. He had bought his own ticket on the Dixie Belle in St. Louis and paid cash for it, and he'd had no contact with the authorities while he was there. As far as anyone on the riverboat knew, he was exactly what he appeared to be, a businessman, just a little bit disreputable, on his way to New Orleans. And during the hour or so that he had been here in the Crescent City, he was certain he hadn't done anything to give himself away.

Nope, he thought, this was purely a case of serendipity, enjoying the two-bit word he had picked up in his reading at the Denver Public Library near the end of each month when his money was low and his next paycheck was still a few days away.

"That's mighty kind of you," he said to Annie, "and I'll sure take you up on the invitation. If you're certain your brother won't mind, that is."

"Paul will not mind." She rolled her eyes a little. "There is nothing he enjoys more than discussing business, so you will have to promise me, M'sieu Parker, that you will not allow him to monopolize your time all evening. There is dancing as well as gambling at the Brass Pelican, and you must dance with me while we are there."

"I'm looking forward to it," Longarm said, and meant it.

Annie stood up, and Longarm got hurriedly to his feet to help her with her chair. "We will pick you up in our carriage at seven o'clock," she said.

"I'll be ready," he promised.

"Until then, M'sieu Parker... adieu."

Longarm watched her walk away, and he wasn't the only one. Every man in the salon was admiring the graceful sway of her hips. Longarm didn't allow himself to feel any jealousy; he hadn't known her long enough, or well enough, for that.

But he had a hunch that before his trip to New Orleans was over, he was going to.

Longarm went back to the desk to pick up his room key, and while he was there he asked the clerk to have all the local newspapers sent up to his room. The man nodded and said, "Yes, sir, Mr. Parker, I'll take care of that right away." They were eager to please here in New Orleans, thought Longarm as he went upstairs. A purple-jacketed bellboy arrived with the stack of papers a few minutes after Longarm had let himself into Room 312 and found it to be as comfortably appointed as he had expected.

It was also empty, no hidden gunmen lurking there waiting to murder him. Longarm wasn't really anticipating any trouble this soon, but it never hurt to be careful.

He spent an hour or so reading through the newspapers, familiarizing himself with what was going on in New Orleans at the present time. As Billy Vail had told him and the reports had verified, there was a strong reform movement under way, its aim to clean up the corruption in city government and shut down the Louisiana State Lottery, which was also riddled with graft and bribery. The lottery, and the men behind it, had so much power that the entire system was referred to by editorialists in anti-lottery papers as "the Golden Octopus." That situation was interesting, but it wasn't what had brought Longarm to New Orleans. He concentrated instead on stories relating to the smuggling, which seemed as widespread as the lottery. He found several stories which mentioned the special prosecutor whose cries for help had brought him here. The man promised in no uncertain terms that the smuggling rings would be broken up and their hold on the Delta country smashed. Longarm snorted as he read the inflammatory quotes. That was just like a politician, he thought, to stir up a mess and then leave it for somebody else to clean up.

He put the papers aside and went downstairs for a late lunch in the hotel dining room, then returned to his room and slept for several hours. It was likely to be a late night coming up, and Longarm wanted to be well rested.

He changed his shirt, but was wearing the same suit and hat when he came down to the hotel lobby a little before seven o'clock. There was no sign of Annie Clement or her brother yet, so Longarm wandered over to the desk, where the same clerk was still on duty. Longarm had tipped the man handsomely when he asked for the newspapers to be sent up, so he thought it was probably safe to ask a question or two.

"You seem to know Miss Clement pretty well," he said to the clerk, as if he was only making idle talk while waiting. "I'm supposed to dine with her and her brother tonight."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself, Mr. Parker. They're a charming couple." The clerk allowed himself the faintest lift of an eyebrow. "And Miss Clement is undeniably one of the most beautiful women in New Orleans--which is saying a great deal indeed."

"You won't get any argument from me on either of those points, friend," Longarm assured him. "What's her brother like?"

The clerk's tone dropped a little and took on a conspiratorial edge. "Well... he's a man with a certain reputation..."

"As a businessman, you mean," said Longarm, playing dumb. "Miss Clement told me they were sugar exporters."

"Yessss... but I had more in mind. Mr. Clement's reputation as a gambler. And something of a ladies' man."

Longarm grinned, stuck an unlit cheroot in his mouth, and said around it, "So he likes the cards and the ladies, eh?"

"So it's said, sir. I wouldn't really know."

I'll just bet you wouldn't, thought Longarm. Hotel clerks saw the best and the worst of folks, and they generally knew the truth of the matter about as well as anyone this side of the local law--and sometimes better.

"Wonder what Miss Clement was doing here earlier today," Longarm mused aloud. "She said she and her brother have a house here in town."

"Oh, she comes here often," said the clerk, "to have a drink or to dine with us or simply to visit friends that might be stopping here."

Longarm grinned again. "So it was just good fortune that she and I met. Hope that luck stays with me. Miss Clement promised they'd take me to a gambling club called the Brass Pelican. Said it was over on Gallatin Street."

The clerk's eyes widened slightly, and Longarm saw that his shot in the dark had hit something. "You should be careful over there, Mr. Parker," cautioned the clerk. "The Brass Pelican is known for its rather, ah, notorious clientele. All of the establishments on Gallatin Street are sometimes frequented by, ah, undesirables."

That didn't come as any surprise to Longarm since Jasper Millard, the owner of the place, was known to have connections with the smuggling rings that operated along the bayous. He said, "I can take care of myself... and some folks have sort of figured I'm a mite notorious and undesirable myself."

He chuckled, and the clerk joined in uneasily. Longarm wanted to be known as someone who might skirt the law on occasion, and he figured he had just reinforced that image in the clerk's mind. Now, if the right people believed the same thing about him, he might be on his way to discovering what he had come to New Orleans to find out.

At that moment, the doors of the hotel opened and Annie Clement came in, followed by a tall, thin man in evening clothes, a cape, and a top hat. Annie was gorgeous in a shimmery, dark gray gown trimmed with white fur, and her face lit up with a smile as she saw Longarm. She held out both hands as she came toward him, and he took them and squeezed warmly.

"M'sieu Parker, how wonderful to see you again," she said. "I want you to meet my brother. Paul, this is M'sieu Parker, who is visiting New Orleans from St. Louis."

"Custis Parker," Longarm said, introducing himself as he shook hands with Paul Clement.

The Frenchman had a dark, narrow face that seemed to fall naturally into sardonic, half-amused lines. He was clean-shaven and had dark, curly hair under the top hat. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, M'sieu Parker," he said. "My dear sister has told me so much about you, I find it difficult to believe that the two of you met only today."

"It's the truth," said Longarm. "Miss Annie here was the first one to really welcome me to New Orleans. I'm grateful to her for making me feel at home--and for inviting me along with the two of you tonight. I hope I'm not being an imposition."

Clement waved a hand languidly. "Of course not! We're perfectly happy to have you accompany us. As I believe Anme told you, we don't actually live here in the city either, so I suppose we're all visitors in New Orleans." He added, "We know it quite well, though."

"I'm glad of that," Longarm told him. "I'm relying on the two of you to be my guides."

"Come along, then, Custis," Annie said, calling him by his given name for the first time as she linked her arm with his. "The night is young, but there is much to see and do."

The three of them went out of the hotel. An elegant black carriage waited at the curb. It had gilt trim and a couple of oil lamps attached to its roof, and six fine black horses were hitched to it. A driver in fancy livery handled the team from the high seat in the front of the vehicle. This was a far cry from some of the mud wagons and Concord stagecoaches he had ridden out West, thought Longarm. For the time being, he was really living high on the hog.

Paul Clement opened the carriage door for his sister, then stood back and gestured for Longarm to board next. Annie patted the upholstered bench next to her. Longarm hesitated for a second, then took the seat. Clement climbed in and settled himself on the opposite bench, so that he would be riding facing backward. He didn't seem to mind.

As the carriage began rolling through the streets of New Orleans, Clement said, "Darling Annie tells me you are an importer and exporter, M'sieu Parker."

"I dabble in a little of this and a little of that," Longarm said vaguely. "To tell you the truth, I'm sort of between enterprises right now. I was told that this was a good town for a man wanting to make a fresh start."

"True, there are boundless opportunities... if a man knows what he wants and is prepared to do whatever is necessary in order to obtain it."

It was shadowy inside the carriage, but Longarm had a feeling Clement was watching him closely. He said coolly, "I've always had a pretty good idea where the road was leading me."

"All roads ultimately lead to the same place, do they not? I speak, of course, of the grave."

Annie said, "That's enough, Paul. I made M'sieu Parker promise that you and he would not spend the entire evening talking business, and I will not allow your morbid philosophy to take over either." She slipped her hand inside Longarm's and leaned closer to him. "I think you will like the restaurant we have selected, Custis. It has the finest food in New Orleans."

"Sounds good," said Longarm, and he hoped it would be. But he doubted seriously if whatever the restaurant had to offer could compete with biscuits and son-of-a-bitch stew and a cup of Arbuckle's on a clear night in the high country under the western stars.

The restaurant was an unprepossessing place on St. Louis Street called Antoine's. As the carriage pulled up in front and Longarm, Annie, and Clement got out, Longarm smelled some of the most enticing aromas he had ever encountered floating out the open windows of the building. Inside, the dining room was rather plainly furnished, but the delicious smells were even stronger. The place was busy too, but Longarm and his companions were immediately shown to one of the few empty tables. Moments later, bowls of steaming soup were brought to them, as if they had been expected--as indeed they had been, Clement confirmed a few moments later. "Annie and I always dine here at least once whenever we are in New Orleans," he added.

Longarm could understand why. The soup, which had bits of crawfish floating in it, was rich and thick and savory. It was followed by tender veal in sauce, steamed vegetables, and loaves of French bread dripping in melted butter. The bread was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and steam rose from it when Longarm took his first bite. He had to admit that everything was good, and he ate heartily. So did Annie and her brother. Longarm found himself watching Anme approvingly. He liked a woman with a good appetite. Everything was washed down with excellent wines, first white, then red, and by the time the meal was over, Longarm was feeling pleasantly stuffed.

He stifled a groan as he stood up to leave with Annie and Clement. Both of them had packed away as much food and drink as he had, but neither seemed to be feeling any ill effects. Longarm could have used a nap.

He came fully awake as they got back into the carriage and headed for Gallatin Street, however. No longer was he indulging himself, although he seemed as relaxed as ever. Now he was working again, and inside, every nerve was alert.

The carriage turned from St. Louis Street onto Decatur and headed along the river, past the Pontalba Apartment Buildings with their luxurious accommodations, past Jackson Square with its memorial statue of Old Hickory, and along the rear of the old French Market before jogging to the right into Gallatin Street itself.

Longarm had seen places like it before: Front Street in Abilene during the days of Wild Bill Hickok, Allen Street in Tombstone, Ferguson Street in Cheyenne. It was an area of saloons, gambling dens, whorehouses, dance halls, pawnshops, and seedy offices used by businessmen who were no more honest than they had to be. Women in frilly nightclothes leaned over the balcony railings of the buildings the carriage passed, calling to potential customers on the street below. Men stood on corners, hawking goods that were undoubtedly stolen. Dark-mouthed alleys opened frequently from the street, and the noises that came from them gave ample warning that it would not be wise to venture down them alone. Longarm glanced in one window as they passed and saw a redheaded woman standing there nude, her lush body on display in the light of a lantern that hung above her head. Her breasts were large, the nipples rouged, and one hand was between her legs as she caressed herself. Annie was looking in the same direction, but if she saw the lewd spectacle, she gave no sign of it.