Murder in the Rue Ursulines (23 page)

“The dean threatened to expel her…I lost a day’s work so I could go be humiliated. That was when I was done with her, you know. I told her to pack her stuff and get out of my house. And do you think she was even sorry? She wasn’t.” She sighed. “I’ll carry that boy’s name with me to the grave. It was Ricky—Ricky Osborne.” She made another noise. “I think he was from Newton? Such a nice, handsome boy he was. Very respectful to me, and apologetic. And once he got those braces off his teeth, he’d be a real lady-killer. I suppose that’s why Karen tried what she did.”

“Thank you, Ms Zorn, you’ve been very helpful. Do you have a picture of Karen you can fax or e-mail to me?” I crossed my fingers.

“I don’t have a fax machine and I don’t have a computer.” She whined. “I guess I could have my brother do it. Where should I send it to?”

I gave her both my e-mail address and my fax number.

“If you see her you tell her to call her mother. I haven’t talked to her in at least ten years, and my health isn’t good.” She whined. “I’m ready to let bygones be bygones.

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Mrs. Zorn.” I hung up the phone.

I went to a search engine for private eyes, and typed in KAREN ZORN, OLPE KANSAS, and the year of her birth. My phone rang as I waited for the results to come up. It was Paige. I flipped it open. “Hey, Paige, you’re not going to believe…”

“I just quit my job.” She interrupted me. Her voice was shaking. “That fucking bitch Coralie…”

“What the hell happened?” I didn’t know what to say. Paige loved her job.

“She killed my story, that’s what. That has never happened to me once in all the years I have worked at that fucking newspaper. And when I asked her why, she told me that it wasn’t in the quote paper’s best interests to run a story so critical of Frillian unquote. I told her to shove Frillian up her ass, and then I quit.” She sighed. “It was a matter of time, really, and better to quit now than keep being driven insane by her incompetence.”

“What are you going to do?”

“
Crescent City
magazine offered me their editor-in-chief position earlier this week.” She exhaled. “I told them I’d think about it—thank God I didn’t just say no. Anyway, how did things go with the trainer?”

I filled her in on everything I’d uncovered thus far, and when I finished, she said grimly, “So our Freddy is a rapist? Can’t wait for that bitch Coralie to find out about
that.”

“Accused rapist.” I corrected her. “And possibly a murderer, to boot.”

“Well, I didn’t get anything of use out of either the maid or the massage therapist.” She replied. “They liked Glynis, thought she was really nice, blah blah blah. They didn’t much care for Rosemary, though. There was nothing specific, really, they just didn’t like her. What’s next?”

“Well, I’m waiting to see if Loren calls me back.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Chanse.” She warned. “You should give all of this to Venus and Blaine and let them handle it. Don’t go meet with Frillian. They’re dangerous, obviously.”

“Okay.” I said noncommittally. “What’s next for you?”

“I’m going to go interview Rosemary, I think.”

“Okay, well call me when you’re finished. I’m curious to know what you think of her.”

“All right, later.” She hung up.

I turned back to my computer. The information on Karen Zorn had finished loading. She’d been listed at her mother’s address until she got an apartment in Emporia—right around the time of the rape accusation. Well, that made sense—her mother had said she’d thrown her out.
Poor thing, bad enough she was raped and then wasn’t believed, but to have your own mother throw you out over it.
But that apartment was the last listing for her, and she had only lived there for a year.

Karen Zorn had disappeared. A year later, the dean and his wife had died in a fire. The next year, Tim Dahlke had died. Another year went by and Bobby Wallace had also died.

All right around the time Freddy Bliss had been launched as a star in Hollywood.

My phone rang again. “MacLeod.”

“Chanse, it’s Loren McKeithen.” He sounded perturbed. “Look, I got your message and I passed it along to Freddy and Jillian. They want you to come by their house. They want to talk.” He paused for a moment. “Who the hell is Karen Zorn?”

“That’s not for me to say.” I replied. “Call them and tell them I’m on my way over.” I hung up.

I made two photocopies of everything Jephtha had given me. I placed them into envelopes. I address one to Venus, care of the French Quarter precinct. The other I addressed to Paige. I stamped them. I walked back into my bedroom and got out my gun. I checked it to make sure it was loaded, and slipped on my shoulder harness. Once it was secured, I put on my black leather jacket and stood in front of the mirror. The jacket had been specially made for me to hide the shoulder holster. I smiled at myself. I would drop the envelopes in the mail on my way to the Quarter. So if by chance I disappeared, they wouldn’t get away with it this time.

I got into my car and drove out of the parking lot, being swarmed again by hyenas. I smiled and waved at them, the stereo blasting. This time I didn’t care if they followed me. There was going to be a much bigger pack of them in front of Frillian’s gate, anyway. In fact, I hoped they did follow me. The main witness, visiting the prime suspect?

I was sure
www.tarnishedtinsel.com
would have a really good time with
that.

I dropped by the post office on my way downtown and dropped the envelopes in the one of the outside drop-boxes. I found a place to park on Touro Street, just inside the Marigny.  I crossed Esplanade quickly. Some of the hyenas had followed me, but they were trying to find parking. For the first time in my life I was happy that parking in New Orleans was such a joke. And I’d been right—the pack in front of Frillian’s brick fence was at least five times the size of the one in front of mine. I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the cameras and the questions being thrown at me. The gate opened just as I reached it, and I jumped inside. It slammed shut behind me.

“Jeez, someone sure did a number on your face.” Jay Robinette said with a sly leer.

I resisted the urge to put my fist through his smug face. If there had been any doubt in my mind before about his guilt, it was gone now. “So, Jay, how long have you been doing their dirty work for them? It make you feel like a real man to attack someone from behind?”

His face flushed, and he clenched his fists. He stepped toward me. I didn’t flinch or back up. I clenched my own fists. Adrenaline coursed through my entire body. I forgot about the soreness. I forgot about the bruises.
Come on, take a swing at me.

The door to the carriage house opened and out of the corner of my eye I saw a young woman walk out with several young children. “Jay! What are you doing!” Jillian shouted.

He relaxed his fists. “They’re waiting for you in the carriage house.”

I laughed. “She’s got you trained better than a pit bull.” I sneered.

His eyes narrowed. “Count your blessings, faggot.”

I walked past him. When I was a few yards past him, I turned back and said with as much contempt as I could, “This faggot is ready for you, fucker. Any time you think you can beat me in a fair fight, bring it on. And I will serve you your balls for dinner.” I waved my hand at him. “Go on back to the kennel. She’ll be whistling for you soon enough.”

I didn’t bother to knock. I just opened the door to the carriage house and walked in. Jillian was pacing in front of the bookcases, a cigarette in her hand. Freddy was sitting on the couch. “You smoke in front of the kids?” I asked. “Nice.”

Jillian’s head whipped around, her eyes slits. “You can’t talk to me like that.” She hissed.

“I’ll talk to you any way I like.” I replied, sitting down in an easy chair and crossing my legs. I smiled at her. “After all, he’s a rapist and one or both of you is a murderer. Which one of you sent your thug after me last night?”

“What?” Freddy’s face went white. “What are you talking about?”

“Drop the innocent act, Freddy.” I shrugged. “Robinette did this to my face—and he doesn’t do anything without orders from you two.”

“I didn’t—“ Freddy started but Jillian cut him off. “Don’t say anything, Freddy. I’ll handle this.” She crossed her arms. “How much do you want?”

“For what? Keeping his dirty little secret?” I leaned forward in my chair and looked Freddy right in the eyes. “How did it feel to rape Karen Zorn, Freddy? Did it make you feel like a stud, like a man?”

He swallowed. “I didn’t rape her.”

“Shut up Freddy!”

“When exactly did Jillian cut off your balls, Freddy?” I went on. “Was it after Shirley Harris’ private eye found out the truth? Is that when you two decided to start killing people to protect your precious career?”

“I DIDN’T RAPE THAT GIRL!” Freddy shouted. He turned to Jillian. “And don’t you tell me to shut up. I didn’t rape that girl and I didn’t kill anyone.”

“She disappeared, Freddy.” I started ticking things off on my fingers. “Right around the time your career started to take off, Karen Zorn disappeared. Then it was the dean’s turn—he
and
his wife, killed in a mysterious fire that burned down their house. Then your old fraternity buddy Bobby Wallace—shot and killed in his house by a burglar who didn’t break in and didn’t steal anything. And poor Tim Dahlke—the brake fluid in his car just disappeared two days after it was refilled. And Glynis. People who have access to your secrets have this really strange habit of dying under questionable circumstances.” I shrugged. “Coincidences?”

“Bobby and Tim…are dead?” His jaw dropped. “I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with any of that, Chanse, I swear.”

“Well, they all died before you even met Jillian—so that pretty much lets her off the hook. How long has Robinette worked for you, Freddy?”

“Jay has worked for
me
for fifteen years.” Jillian stubbed out her cigarette with a shaking hand and lit another. “All right, yes, I sent him after you last night. That was a mistake and I’m sorry.”

“You did
what?”
Freddy stared at his wife in disbelief. “Jillian—“

“He was getting too close.” She closed her eyes. “We’ve worked too long and too hard to let this get out now.”

“I didn’t rape that girl.” Freddy said between clenched teeth. “Is that so hard to believe? Even you don’t believe me, do you, Jillian?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is what the tabloids will print—and what the public will believe.”

“I guess I should be grateful you didn’t order your pit bull to kill me.” I glared at Jillian. “Is that what happened to Glynis?”

“ I didn’t have you beaten up.” Her face reddened. “And no,  I don’t know what happened to Glynis.”

“Save it for the jury.” I turned back to Freddy. “Okay, I’m listening. Tell me what happened with Karen Zorn.” I leaned back in the chair.

He took a deep breath. “Look, I wasn’t the nicest guy, okay? I was pretty young. I’d always been really good-looking and used to getting my way with any girl I wanted—and if some chick didn’t want me, I didn’t need to rape her. There was always another one more than happy to hop into bed with me. I joined the fraternity. Karen Zorn came to our little sister rush. She was a nice enough looking girl, and she was nice. She got a crush on me.” He shrugged.

 “She used to bring me presents, buy me lunch and stuff like that. I didn’t have a lot of money, so yeah, I used her that way. She was always willing to buy beer or food or something. She was always around. It got to be a joke around the house—my little stalker. I wouldn’t sleep with her. There was just something about her that didn’t strike me as being quite right, you know what I mean? But at that party, I was just drunk enough. She came on to me pretty strong, and I was drunk enough to be okay with it. So I took her up to my room. I could barely stand. She undressed me. She got me into bed—she was on top because I was barely conscious. The next morning when I woke up she was there in bed with me.” He swallowed.

“I was hungover and felt like shit. And she wouldn’t shut up. She kept going on and on about how happy she was, and what a great future we were going to have together, and what we were going to name our kids. It freaked me out.” He wiped sweat off his forehead.

 “I told her I’d made a terrible mistake, that I didn’t love her, and she needed to leave. She threw a fit—she started screaming at me about how I’d used her, how she did everything for me, she gave and gave and all I did was take and take, and she was going to make me pay for it.” He winced at the memory. “She got so out of control Bobby and Tim had to come in and drag her out.” He hung his head.

“It was a shitty thing to do. I should have never slept with her. There’s no excuse for that. But she wasn’t right in the head. And then on Monday she went to the dean and accused me of rape.” He swallowed. “Her story didn’t stand up. Bobby and Tim told the dean about how she’d stalked me, and how she’d threatened to get even with me that morning. The dean caught her in several lies…contradictions… and she finally broke down and admitted I hadn’t done it.”  He took a deep breath. “And I never saw her again. I didn’t rape her. Later that semester I asked the dean to expunge the disciplinary action from my record, and he did. I thought that was the end of it all.” He looked at Jillian, his jaw clenched. “And all this time you knew about it?”