Out of the Easy(57)

Cokie set the parking brake. “Now, Josie, I’m not foolin’. This business with your momma is serious. There’s lotsa people who don’t want her back in New Orleans. Willie’s smart pullin’ you out of the sizzle, but even out here, you got to be ready. Some folk might be stupid enough to think they can get to your momma through you.”

I got out of the car and pulled my small suitcase and a large box of books from the backseat. Cokie opened the trunk. It was packed with crates and boxes.

“Coke, this is half the pantry. I thought I was staying a week at most.”

“Sadie been cookin’ all night for you. You got plenty of supplies here.” He pulled Willie’s golf bag from the trunk. “Take this. You know I can’t stand no guns.”

I looked in the bag. “She sent all of them?”

“With extra rounds in the front pocket. She said she told you to bring your pistol.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“Well, you never been out here alone. What if someone comes by?”

“Who, like Frieda Kole?”

“Like Cincinnati.”

It came out and then he couldn’t take it back. A chill pebbled across my neck. I heard his voice—I’m gonna get you, Josie Moraine. I pulled out one of the shotguns to examine what Willie had sent.

Cokie rubbed his forehead. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now, Josie, I’m not sayin’ that Cincinnati goin’ be out here. Willie’s worried that he and your momma might want you as a character witness for her, and well, Cincinnati is tied to some pretty bad folk.”

“Like Carlos Marcello?”

Cokie looked on the verge of tears. Then I remembered Patrick hugging me so hard it hurt, like he was saying good-bye. Cokie sniffed and started carrying crates onto the porch. I grabbed his arm.

“What’s really going on, Coke?”

“Your momma done got herself into trouble, Jo. A rich man wound up dead from a Mickey, and someone said she was with him.”

“Who told the police that?”

“I don’t know. If anything big happens, it will be in the paper. When you go to the grocery, you can pick one up. But make sure you take your pistol with you and case the house good and careful when you get back. Set some little signs for yourself so you know if someone been here since you left.”

I lifted the shutters on the windows and pulled back the curtains. Cokie put the supplies in the kitchen.

“Now, don’t worry your head. Willie just takin’ precautions. You enjoy yourself out here. Get some rest and read all them books you brought. I’ll be back in a sneeze to pick you up.”

Mariah rolled down the thin drive, kicking dust around her rear. I stood on the porch watching, gripping Willie’s shotgun.





THIRTY-EIGHT


I no longer wondered why Ray and Frieda were afraid of the dark. I was too.

Each night I walked down to their house at dusk and joined them in the car. I lay in the backseat and slept while they pretended to drive to Birmingham, Montgomery, and someplace new each night. I made them a big breakfast at sunrise and then walked the mile back to Shady Grove with my pillow. Each day at lunch, I’d walk to the grocer to check for messages and mail.

I loved Shady Grove and didn’t miss New Orleans a bit. But I missed Patrick and wrote for updates on Charlie every day. A week passed, and I hadn’t received a return letter from him. When I called Willie from the grocer’s, she said Randolph had seen Charlie every day and that he had settled down and was sleeping a lot. She wouldn’t tell me much about Mother, just that she returned, posted bond, and was staying at the Town and Country Motel. That meant she was with Cincinnati. Carlos Marcello owned the Town and Country. Willie said she had sent Cokie out to Slidell to mail the typewritten letter for Miss Paulsen that Patrick had given her.

I tried phoning Patrick from the grocer, but no one answered.

I had just finished washing my hair when I heard the noise. It sounded like the rumble of an engine but then went quiet. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the shotgun. I crept toward the front of the cottage and peered out the window. Nothing. I carefully pushed the screen door open with my bare foot. The hinges on the door complained, betraying my silence. I walked slowly out onto the porch, pointing the barrel of the gun in front of me at the drive. Something crackled on the side of the porch. I spun to my left, finger on the trigger.

“Whoa, easy there, now.”

Jesse Thierry was standing next to his motorcycle by the side of the porch.

“I cut the engine on the drive and walked it down because I didn’t want to scare you. Obviously that didn’t work,” he said.

I dropped the shotgun and let out a breath. “Look at you, locked and loaded, like Mae West of the Motor City.”

It was hard to be angry when Jesse was funny. “I’m surprised to see you, that’s all,” I said.

“Hopefully it’s a good surprise?”

“Sure. You drove all the way out here?”

Jesse took off his leather jacket and hung it over the seat of the motorcycle. “Weather’s great, so it was nice. I ran into Willie in the Quarter yesterday and she gave me directions. She also said I have to report back to her.” Jesse smiled. “So am I invited up on that porch, or are you still debating whether you want to shoot me?”