Out of the Easy(73)

The sun was up when I arrived at Willie’s. I let myself in through the side door and proceeded to eat anything I could find in the kitchen. I hadn’t had food or drink since Tangle Eye left the shop. The milk sloshed against the sides of the trembling glass as I raised it to my lips. I had spent all night considering the options. No one escaped a debt to Carlos Marcello, not alive anyway. Five thousand dollars was an enormous sum of money, over two years’ tuition to Smith. I could raise some of it myself, but not all of it. There was no other way.

I’d have to take it from Willie and then find a way to return it. I couldn’t tell her, not after Tangle Eye’s threat.

Sadie knew something was wrong the moment she saw me. I told her I couldn’t sleep. She kept feeling my forehead and the sides of my neck. She made me open my mouth so she could look at my tongue and throat. She brewed hot tea with lemon and fried up some eggs and thick bacon for me.

“I smell pig,” said Willie as I brought the coffee into her room. “Who’s Sadie cooking for?”

“It was for me. I drank too much soda yesterday and had a bad stomach all night.”

Willie eyed me. “Soda, huh? Yeah, right. Give me the papers.” Willie read through one of the front-page stories in the newspaper. “They’re crackin’ down, Jo. Says here they’re hiring more cops and plan to drag the Quarter.” She threw the paper across the bed. “I’m too old for raids. Used to love ’em, all the dodge and ditch was a turn-on, but I don’t have the energy for it anymore. I haven’t had to use the buzzer for years.”

“What will you do?”

Willie thought for a moment. “I’ll keep two drivers on-site every night. Sadie will sit at the window and throw the buzzer if she sees the cops. Everyone will run through the courtyard and climb through the flap door into the waiting cars. I may send a car to the bookshop—you said it’s closed up, right?”

“Yes.” I chose my words carefully. “I’ve asked Jesse to put boards or shutters up on the windows. I don’t want people to see it empty.”

“That’s a good idea. Move the bookshelves. I’ll have Elmo deliver some furniture so there’s a place to sit.”

“Willie, have you heard from Mother?”

“No, and we don’t want to. I hope she’s settled her scores here in town and won’t come back. I don’t need the trouble, and neither do you. I know you feel some sort of connection with her, but trust me on this, she will bring you down, Jo. She’ll bring us all down.”

She already has, I wanted to tell Willie.

“If I were you, I would think about changing my last name. You’re eighteen. You can do it. Cut the cord.”

Willie banded a stack of bills and handed them to me. “Put these in the safe.”

She continued to talk about the crackdown. I stared at the stacks of cash in the safe. If I could nick two one-hundred-dollar bills, go to the bank, change them for a stack of one-dollar bills, I could fill the packs with ones. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. I tried to quickly calculate how it would add up. Perspiration beaded at my hairline.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” demanded Willie.

What was I doing? Decisions, whispered the voice of Forrest Hearne, they shape our destiny.

Yes, Forrest Hearne’s decisions had led to his destiny. Death.





FIFTY


“Mr. Lockwell, please,” I whispered into the receiver. “This is Josephine Moraine.”

I waited for several minutes. The line finally clicked. “You got your letter,” said the woolly voice on the other end of the line. “You want to go celebrate?”

“Actually, I haven’t received word yet. I’m calling regarding—” I paused. Could I really do this? “Regarding employment.”

Lockwell was silent. I heard nothing but the wet sucking of his cigar. “Ah, reconsidered, have you?”

“I’m thinking about it. I’d like to know a bit more about the position.”

“Meet me at noon at my place on St. Peter.” He rattled off the address. “I look forward to discussing . . . the position.” He chuckled and hung up.

When I left the shop for Lockwell’s, Jesse was installing shutters on the windows and doors.

“They’re castoffs from a building over on Chartres. The one for the door even has a mail slot. The fit won’t be perfect, but they’ll work for privacy.” Jesse looked at me and smiled.

I stared at the sidewalk.

“That’s what this is about, right? If it’s not, tell me.”

I looked at Jesse.

“Damn it, Jo. Say something.”

I wanted to tell him everything. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t drag Jesse, Cokie, or Willie into this. So I just stood there.

Jesse dropped his hammer in frustration. “You know what? I’m tired of this. You come banging on my door or breakin’ my window whenever you need something, and I jump when you say jump. But I ask a question or come by to see you, and you leave me standing out here on the street. I got school, cars to fix, and I dropped everything to do this today. I’m not some puppy. You complain about your mom being a user, but you’re lookin’ like one yourself these days.”

I turned on my heel and walked away from him, fighting tears and the urge to run back and tell him everything, ask for his help.