Out of the Easy(22)

“And you be careful of that Richard Lockwell,” said Cokie. “He’s a kitten killer.”

“He’s a ladies’ man?” Patrick laughed.

“Aw, no, that ain’t what I mean. When he was young, he hung four kittens in the Quarter. Lord, you should have seen people chase him. He’s not right in the head.”

I looked out the window, humming “It’s Only a Paper Moon” as the Cadillac rolled down St. Charles toward Canal. The Uptown women were wary of the Quarter and everything associated with it. They thought the Quarter was responsible for all corruption. They wanted to believe their husbands were virtuous men of society—good men, like Forrest Hearne—and that the Quarter sucked them in against their will, grabbing them by the ankles and pulling them under.

Mother was probably enjoying oysters Rockefeller at Antoine’s now, washing it all down with whiskey and smoke. I could see her. She’d drape her arm across her chest for everyone to admire her stolen jewelry and then slide her foot into Cincinnati’s crotch under the table. Mother was prettier than all the women at the Lockwells’ party, but she didn’t carry herself with the same poise or confidence as the other ladies. I didn’t agree with Cokie. It wasn’t just rich folks.

Mother was soul broke, too.





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?”