Out of the Easy(33)

“Did you notice a watch, Miss Moraine?” asked the detective.

“Yes. He was wearing a watch.”

“How do you know?” asked the detective.

“I noticed it when he was writing his check.”

The detective flipped the photo of Forrest Hearne up toward him. “This fella looks like a society guy. Nice watch?”

“Mmm-hmm. Gold.”

The chair groaned as he leaned back. He yawned again and ran his hand through the thin plumes of hair he had left. “Okay. So you can confirm that he had the watch when he bought the books?”

“Yes.”

“And what time was that?”

“I don’t recall the exact time. Late afternoon.”

“Anything else? Did he appear sick to you?”

“No, he didn’t appear sick.”

“Marty.” An equally disheveled man leaned in the doorway. “Shooting over in Metairie. The guys out there are saying it’s one of Marcello’s guys.”

Sleepy Detective Langley suddenly perked up. “Any witnesses?”

“Two. Both talkin’. How much longer ya gonna be?”

“I’m done. Just let me grab some coffee, and I’ll be down. Thank you, Miss Moraine. Sorry to interrupt your day, but the gentleman’s family is concerned about the watch and some cash that’s missing. They keep contacting us. I’ll show you out.”

“That’s not necessary. It sounds like you have pressing business. I’ll show myself out.” I gathered my purse and left his office and the station as quickly as possible.

The family’s concerned about the watch. Of course they were concerned. How far would his wife go to find it? The strands of anxiety in my stomach were now firmly tied in knots. I felt like I might be sick. How did the watch end up in a man’s sock in my mother’s bedroom? I could have just told the detective I had found the watch and was happy to give it to him for Mrs. Hearne. But then he might have questioned why it ended up at Willie’s, he’d question Willie, and she would find out I had the watch and hadn’t told her. Besides, Willie was always saying she didn’t want any problems.

I knew what to do.





TWENTY-TWO


I ran my thumb over the letters etched in the gold. I saw it on his wrist and heard his deep voice. Good luck at college, whichever one you choose, and Happy New Year. It’s gonna be a great one! He had no idea. He seemed well, full of hope. David Copperfield. I barely knew him, yet something in me clung to the watch, and I wanted desperately to keep it. But I couldn’t.

I put on my sweater, dropped the watch in my purse, and left my apartment.

The cold air hung damp and a misty rain fell softly in the dark. I should have brought an umbrella, but I didn’t want to turn back. I knew if I did, I might lose my nerve. So I continued down the sidewalk on Royal toward St. Peter. The cloudy sky turned the streets into a wet black maze. Generally, I could watch for shadows behind me on the pavement, but tonight there weren’t any, just a slick of black. Doors slammed and voices echoed between the buildings. A man yelled at his son about the trash, and a soprano sang a beautiful aria from somewhere above me.

“Psst. Hey, girl.”

An old man in rags and carpet slippers peeked out from one of the doorways in front of me. I clutched my purse and stepped off the sidewalk into the street. He began to follow me, croaking nonsense.

“Hazel is under the table.” He giggled from a foot behind.

I quickened my pace and heard the sudden halt of his slippered footfall. It was replaced by an eerie singing.

“Thou art lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry, Clementine,” he crooned.

Maybe I should have waited until daylight. My hair was wet and I began to shiver as I passed Dewey’s soda shop. It glowed warm and pink. I was nearly to the corner when I heard door hinges creak behind me.

“Jo!”

I turned. Jesse was jogging toward me.

“Hey, Jo. Where ya goin’?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Where was I going? What could I tell him? I looked down at Jesse’s denims, cuffed wide over his black motorcycle boots, and tried to think. “I’m . . . meeting a friend.”

“Kinda late, isn’t it?”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around my wet sweater.

“Wanna warm up for a second?” He motioned with his head toward the soda shop.

My eyes pulled to the happy pink glow on the corner. “Well . . .”

“Aw, come on, Motor City. It’ll be quick. You’re shivering.”

I looked down St. Peter into the darkness. “Okay, just real quick.”

I fixed my hair in the ladies’ room and tried to blot myself dry with the thin handkerchief from my purse. When I returned, a cup of hot cocoa sat on the counter next to Jesse. I slid onto the vinyl stool. Jesse’s soda glass was empty.

“Have you been here long?” I asked him.

“I was just about to leave and then I saw you. I had to get out of the house. My granny was driving me crazy. She’s tryin’ to plant a hex on our neighbors to make them move. They’re loud and keep her up at night.”

“Really? What’s the hex?”

He rolled his eyes and pushed the hot cocoa closer to me.

“Oh, come on, Jesse. Tell me. I don’t believe in that stuff anyway.”