In a matter of minutes the familiar scent of gardenias drifted across the bar. Ry turned his head in time to watch Charmaine Stewart hoist her curvy hip onto the high barstool next to him. She looked as good as always, dressed fit to kill, out spending her daddys money on trouble and anything else she could find. I heard there was a shooting in Algiers tonight, she purred. Need an ear? Im a real good listener.
Ry dug into his pocket looking for a cigarette, then remembered he was out. Swearing, he said, Why do shrinks and women always assume talking about your problems solves anything?
If youre not interested in talking, we dont have to. Im good at other things, too.
Ry knew what she was good atcausing grief for her daddy. I came here to eat, Char. Thats all.
Ouch. Arent we in a nasty mood tonight? She smiled, not at all daunted. Come on, Ry, Im a sure thing, and I know I could improve your mood. Say yes she paused, her frosty lips parting say yes, then take me home with you.
She had one of those refined Southern accents, the kind that easily attracted men. And Char had attracted plentythe primary reason the judge was taking ulcer medication and seeing a shrink twice a week, Ry determined. Shouldnt you be home? Your daddy
Thinks youre wonderful. She reached out and ran a manicured finger over the back of his hand where it rested on the bar. For the first time in just ever, Daddy and I agree on something. She giggled and leaned close. Youre our favorite detective, Detective Archard.
What she said about the judge approving of him was true enough. But Ry also knew there was a simple explanation behind that approvalif Char was seeing a big bad cop, the rest of the men making a nuisance of themselves might think twice. Judge Stewart was a shrewd old Creole. Ry didnt blame him for scheming to keep his wild, scandal-seeking daughter out of the newspaper. Only, he had no intentions of being her baby-sitter or anything else. They had already settled that months ago.
Char ran her finger further up Rys arm. You look like youve lost your dog and best friend all in one night. I can be anything you want, Ry. A lap dog suits me fine. You can stroke me or Ill stroke you. You name the game and Im willing to play.
Youre wrong, as usual, Char. Tonight all I need is a hot meal and a few extra hours of sleep.
At Rys mention of food, Tony came to the rescue with a plate of shrimp and a tall beer. There you go, mon ami. Seconds are on the house. Jus holler.
Ry shed Chars warm touch and picked up the fork next to his plate. He stabbed a plump shrimp, shoved it into his mouth and chewed vigorously. Unwilling to be ignored, she inched closer. Remember the night I slipped through that hole in your hedge and found you asleep in that big hammock on your veranda? Remember how I woke you? The days heat was nothing like what we sparked, and nothing has compared since, Im not ashamed to say.
Remembering that night doesnt do either of us any good, Ry drawled, reminded that when shed arrived that night hed been deep into one of his favorite dreams, a dream so potent and real that hed almost made love to Charmaine Stewart thinking she was someone else.
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. If youre tired Ill do all the work. Promise and slowly she traced an invisible X across her chest with a hot-pink manicured nail cross my heart.
Ry didnt doubt Char would be good at her word, shed had enough practice. His gaze drifted to her full breasts, then lower to the rounded curve of her hips beneath her pink silk T-shirt dress. A man would have to be crazy not to take what she was offering.
He stood, dug two twenties out of his back pocket and laid them on the bar beside his half-eaten food. Out of habit, he glanced toward the stage where the piano sat idle. He still thought it odd Margo wasnt there. A creature of habit, she was as dependable as she was loyal. The only thing that would make her take a night off was if she was sick.
Rys gaze went back to Char. Want me to call you a cab?
I take it that means youre turning me down again. She wrinkled her nose. Youre a stubborn man, Detective Archard. But, lucky for you, so am I.
It was still raining when Ry left the Toucan and turned his green Blazer toward the Garden
District, and his thoughts back to the Burelly case. It went without saying he was committed to finding Mickeys killer. Even though there wasnt much to go on at the moment, the crime hadnt been perfect. Along with Mickeys body, hed found evidence that someone else, possibly two other people, had been with Mickey at the time of the shooting. A blood trail leading to the end of the pier suggested that they had attempted to escape by jumping into the river.
Would the Harbor Patrol find their bodies in the next few days? Or had their escape been successful? The odds were slim that, wounded and fighting the rivers current at night, a person could survive. That is, unless their wounds werent serious and they were good swimmers who knew the area. Ry had learned that a slim chance was better than none. Until he explored every possibility, he would assume there were witnesses out there who could shed some light on his case.