Dead and Breakfast (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 2) (6 page)

Chapter Eight

“Wow, I’d love to go with you to Le Petit tonight with your extra ticket. You know how I love the theatre but I already have plans. Jiff had the all access pass at Jazz Fest and we were invited by the lead singer of The Levee Men to their party tonight,” I told Julia over the phone.

“Well, Miss La Tee Da,” Julia said. “I’ll look for your photo on the society page.”

“I don’t think so, but this is good for you. This is the band your dead guy played in.”

“I’m painfully aware of who they are since they cancelled their reservations after Gervais, well, you know,” she snipped. Julia had a one way view of the world, and that was the world according to Julia.”

“Cancelled? I think you were in jail and the police along with the crime scene people wouldn’t let them check in,” I said.

“Well, that might have had something to do with it, sure.”

“Well, Julia, even though the world is against you, I am still on your side.” I was glad she couldn’t see the eye roll I added. “I want to see what they know or at least find out if he met up or had problems with anyone here. You should be thanking me. I think this evens the score from when I asked you to wear that gorilla suit to help me sneak into the hospital and talk to Jiff the night he was shot.”

“Help me get past this ordeal and, yes, that score is settled. I’m terrified this is now so out of control. I really appreciate you standing by me and having my back. Most people are looking at me like I’m going to bash their head in. The cops aren’t investigating any further. They think I’m guilty and that’s that. They’re just waiting for the trial.”

“Well, I know you didn’t do it and Jiff got one of his female investigators an invite to come along with us tonight to this party. You know, bands will never say no to bringing an extra girl to a party. She will snoop around and see if she comes up with anything.”

“Thanks. Let me know if y’all find out anything,” she said, then hung up.

***

Jiff and I arrived with his female private investigator, Michelle, at The Oak Leaf Bar about 10:30 p.m. and security barely looked at the passes before waving us in. The bar was crowded with the eclectic group of normal patrons, the uptown crowd who liked live music and had been loyal followers since their college days, college kids from Tulane and Loyola, musicians and Levee Men fans or guests. The cool thing about The Oak Leaf was that peoples’ paths crossed with decades of age differences to dance to funky New Orleans music, sometimes until dawn. The common denominator was fun and music. Jiff pulled me by the hand out to the dance floor and Michelle went to work. She was a cutie. She had a pixie haircut, big eyes and a fashion model’s face. Jiff said she could sell snow to an Eskimo. It wasn’t long before she and Maurice were chatting it up, having a drink and sitting nose to nose at the bar.

We joined them after a bit to get a refueling drink for more dancing. Maurice was smiling and talking it up with us. After a few minutes he said he should visit some of his guests but he’d be right back. Michelle briefed us immediately.

“Maurice offered up the sad news of late. I really didn’t have to ask. He said his friend, the lead guitar was recently killed, had an old girlfriend who still lives here in New Orleans. He said the band saw her as bad news and a crackpot he couldn’t shake. She moved in with Gervais and his roommate. Gervais moved out and went on the road with the band to get rid of her. His roommate finally had to kick her out by changing the locks. She would show up at gigs, like a stalker, after he said he broke up with her and then he’d get back together with her for a few weeks or months. Then they would do it all again. It was a vicious cycle and she wanted to get married. It seems she could ease back into his life by always having cocaine available. The band also said some guy followed her around letting her cry on his shoulder and Maurice is pretty sure that guy would give her the drugs. Maurice said the ex-girlfriend was a real nut job and wouldn’t take a break up seriously. Her name was Violet Fornet. She gave him some purple stone on a leather necklace he never took off. The stone was supposed to ward off drunkenness. Maurice said Gervais would drink more when she was around. Then he’d try to pick up any girl to give Violet the message he wanted to call it quits. Problem was every time he drank; he drank too much and passed out. Violet was always the one waiting to carry him home. He and the band guys told Gervais to give her back that necklace and you’ll get rid of her. They said it was like a talisman that had a voodoo grip on him. As long as he wore it she kept turning up and wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“You work fast,” I said, smiling at Jiff. “The necklace wasn’t on him when Julia found him but she said he’d had it on the night before. If Violet took it, when? Julia was with him all night.”

Jiff finished his beer and said, “I came here to dance. Good job Michelle. If you want to leave, call a taxi to take you home. I’ll pay for it.”

“If I’m off the clock, I might stay and dance myself. I’ll wait and see if Maurice comes back. We might need to follow up with him and I don’t want him to think I dumped him. I kinda like him anyway. I’ll see if he knows where this woman lives or if she shows up, maybe he’ll point her out to me.”

“Michelle is like a Venus Flytrap and Maurice is the unwitting insect. She’ll eat him alive and he’ll be happy to let her,” Jiff said into my ear.

We went back to the dance floor and all too soon, the night was over, working on Saturday morning. We joined the band and their dates for last call. Michelle was still there, all smiles for Maurice. They seemed to genuinely like each other. We sat at a couple of tables pulled together and one of the boys toasted their dearly departed friend, and lead guitar band member, Gervais ‘Guitarzan’ St. Germain. We raised our glasses, toasted their friend and then the stories spilled out.

“It sounds like he had a good send off,” the keyboard player said, “before he bought it. I heard he got it on with the babe at the hotel.”

The drummer added, “My money’s on ‘ole Violet having something to do with it.”

“Yeah, bummer.” The bass player shook his head and sat with his eyes closed playing air guitar.

“Find Violet and you might find some answers,” Maurice said.

“Is that her real name?” I said to no one in particular. “She didn’t show up here tonight? It seems she would want to share some time with his friends.”

“Well, that’s because she knows none of us like her. She knew Gervais’ soft spot, which was drugs, and exploited it. He was a good guitar player when he was straight. That means, when she wasn’t around. Too bad she didn’t run off with that weirdo that followed her everywhere. If Violet was actually in the band, that would have made that guy her groupie,” the drummer said to the keyboard player. “But, us not liking her, or the skinny guy following her or us around, never kept her from stalking Gervais and bringing him what he could not refuse—cocaine. I bet she knows he’s dead. I think your girlfriend keeps her informed.” He air quoted the word informed when the keyboard player’s girlfriend left the table for the ladies room.

“My girlfriend stopped associating with Violet or
Violent
, as she now calls her, after she drugged our dog and it died. Violet wouldn’t admit to it, but the vet said it was given Rohypnol, you know, roofies. Rumor is the skinny guy who followed Violet was her drug connection. We think he’s the one who slipped it to a gal or two at one of the places we’ve played, I guess he was hoping to get lucky since Violet was all into Gervais. We think that’s where she got it,” the keyboard player said to the group. “My girlfriend still gets upset over our dog so she leaves whenever Violet’s name comes up.” Then, he answered me, “Her name is Violet Fornet. She’s a waffle waitress at Pancake Paddy on Canal.”

“You think this woman killed your dog?” I was almost out of my seat when Jiff grabbed my thigh by way of holding me down and sending the ‘not the time or the place’ message.

“Not just our dog, but the neighbor’s dog also. Same thing happened to their pet about a week before our dog. We didn’t think it was Violet until she was staying with us when our dog died.”

I could hardly stay in my seat. I wanted to find this woman and pound her. What kind of person gives drugs to someone’s pet? “Pancake Paddy? Isn’t that close to the end of Canal by the cemeteries?” I asked.

“Yeah, right. Most of us are from all over south Louisiana and don’t have relatives to crash with here so we were supposed to stay at that new B&B near it until Gervais was killed.”

***

Jiff spent the night at my apartment. It was early Saturday morning when we got in and we stretched out on the floor, my head on his shoulder and discussed what we’d discovered over the course of the day and evening we spent together. We fell asleep like that. We woke up when my dogs stretched and shook themselves awake. When we didn’t get up immediately, they barked, pounced on us, licked and playfully nipped at our ears.

“Boy, they’re better than an alarm clock,” Jiff said.

Just then I heard the key in the front door and my roommate, Suzanne came in. I made some quick introductions. Suzanne looked dead on her feet.

“Nice to meet you, but you have to excuse me, I worked all night and have classes this afternoon so I really need to get some sleep. Later,” she said as she drifted off to her bedroom.

I explained Suzanne and I grew up on the same block and I moved in with her right after I met him. She worked nights and I worked days and we rarely saw each other except when she came in sometimes. It was the perfect arrangement. It felt like living alone but having someone to split the rent with.

Jiff made breakfast while I fed three Schnauzers, my dog Meaux Jeaux and two rescues I was currently trying to find homes for. He fixed us scrambled eggs while I dished out the bowls of food in my doggie soup kitchen.

“Who takes care of Isabella if you don’t go home?” I asked.

“You remember Sam, our Security Guard? Of course you do, he adopted one of your Schnauzers. He takes Isabella for a sleepover with Einstein. Those two dogs love each other. I guess it’s professional courtesy since they’re both Schnauzers and Isabella isn’t too friendly with other dogs.”

Jiff was breaking pieces of bagel off to give to the three pair of eyes staring at him when they started barking at a knock on the kitchen door. When I opened it, there on the other side of the screen was Dante. He went white with anger when he saw Jiff at the stove with the skillet.

“Seems I caught you at a bad time,” was all he could spit out.

“No, not really, do you want to come in?” I asked trying to push open the screen door. Dante put his hand on it and kept it closed.

“Call me later if you want this info I have on Julia’s tox screen,” he added, “if you’re interested.” He spun around going down the back stairs and around the side of the house to the front where he’d parked. I took off after him.

“Wait. Of course I’m interested in her tox screen. This isn’t what you think,” I said sprinting down the driveway behind him. He, stopped abruptly, turned, and I ran smack into him. He had his arms around me for a second as I slammed into his chest. When we both realized we had our arms around each other, he pushed me back, dropping his like I was on fire.

“How do you know what I think? Besides, you have a guest. Shouldn’t you go back to…entertain him?” The vein in his neck was pumping blood to his face and the white was turning redder with every breath.

“Not that I owe you an explanation, and you showed up unannounced,” I said, mustering some degree of indignation. He turned to start leaving again, but I grabbed the back of his shirt. “We don’t even date and I’m not obligated to you or you to me in any way. But just so you know, I didn’t sleep with him. I mean, I didn’t have sex with him. We just fell asleep on the floor after a late night.” I spilled this out in one nervous breath while my heart raced. Then I let go of his shirt.

We both stood there a minute before he turned around, held out the folder in his hand. “Here’s a copy of both tox screens. They both had alcohol in their blood. St. Germain had higher levels than Julia but both had traces of Rohypnol. He might have gotten some in his own drink when he tried to drug her. They both were pretty bombed, from what this report says.”

I took it from him. “She didn’t kill that guy but does this report help her?” I scanned the report. Dante just stood there looking at the folder in my hands. “I thought this drug rendered you more or less paralyzed if you were slipped it.”

“The Coroner’s office says it’s inconclusive. The glasses were both rinsed out and we never found a wine bottle to see if it was in the bottle or just put in the glass.” He paused before looking me in the face. “I can’t watch you with another man. I can’t do it.” He left me standing alone in my driveway feeling hollow and empty inside.

***

I handed Jiff the folder with Julia’s report in it and we ate breakfast discussing what might happen with the results. He said, “That was nice of your friend to bring this by.”

“Actually, that was huge for Dante. He hates Julia.”

“But, he likes you and it seems he didn’t expect to see me here. You two have some history together?” Jiff tried to sound casual but he was fishing. He didn’t know about Dante and I hadn’t had any reason to bring it up. I figured when and if he asked, I’d tell him. Well, now he was asking.