Casting the Dice Page 4
“There’s no reason to go into why.” Her pulse skittered and she took a steadying breath. Hal had devoted his whole morning to her, and she should acknowledge that. “Thank you for your help. You’ve gone above and beyond.”
“Please?” He gestured with the card. “I’d feel better.”
“Fine.” She snatched it and shut the door.
Annie gazed out the window at the rooftops of the French Quarter as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Gaps remained in her memory, and without her wallet or phone, a lost feeling swamped her. She could say she was Annie Swanson, but she had no proof.
In the bedroom, she’d found her suitcase and clothing. The used airplane boarding pass confirmed she’d flown to New Orleans three days ago. Her aunt had left a key in Nevada, and she had checked out the bookshop she’d inherited before going to see her Aunt June’s lawyer. She still blanked on the attorney’s name, but once she found her cellphone, she could find out from their email correspondence. Almost as much as her phone, she needed to keep searching for her purse.
Her gaze dropped from the skyline to the empty flagstones of her patio. Tea splashed over the rim of her cup, and she lowered the mug to the counter with shaking hands.
The two-by-fours and the standing saw she’d seen there yesterday—only hours ago, really—had vanished. Someone had let themselves in with a key and cleared out all her aunt’s building materials.
Not only that. The door of the upstairs apartment in the servants’ quarters opposite stood open. But no one lived there. The apartments back there were empty. Did this mean…?
Her throat threatened to close. The intruder could still be on the premises. She laced on tennis shoes, grabbed her aunt’s iron skillet, and went to investigate.
“Anyone there?” She waited in the patio, but nobody answered or appeared above. She hefted her makeshift weapon and climbed the weather-beaten stairs to the balcony and the door standing ajar. “Come on out. Don’t be shy.”
Still no answer.
“I’m only out here to make sure the property is secured and everything’s in order.” She peered inside. Footprints showed plainly on the dusty floor, one set to an inside door, the second set back. “Last chance.”
The building stayed silent, and she let out a breath, pulled and locked the door. Whoever had let themselves in the street door last night had left again. But he can return because he has his own key.
She desperately needed to find her purse and money—and a locksmith. This wasn’t about eating dinner, but keeping herself safe.
She needed to get going and started down the stairs. Without warning, the wood splintered, and the banister ripped away with a screech. Dropping the skillet, she grabbed for purchase on the balcony and hoisted herself to safety.
The entire staircase crashed into the patio behind her, but now the floor under her feet creaked and tilted. Her pulse jumped. She launched herself onto the brick wall of the abutting property, her heart lodged in her throat. This would be a lot more dangerous than any of the climbs she’d done with her old boyfriend, Darryl, but it was her only escape.
Immediately, the fingers of one hand slipped. She tightened her grip on the moldy brick, and the old mortar crumbled. Sweat slicked her palms. She could really use a chalk bag right now, not to mention a toe hold.
Somehow, she found an indentation about six inches away to her right and crab-crawled sideways, digging three fingers into a crimp. She looked down. Dust hovered above the splintered debris a good thirteen feet below, and her pulse revved.
Stop looking. Keep moving. Baby steps.
A deep breath steadied her, but in the next split second the tip of the brick under her foot broke of, and she scrambled for another hold.
She worked her way down as fast as she dared. Her foot found a slight protrusion then under her opposite shoe, she found a small crack. After what seemed like forever, she chanced another look, saw the patio, and dropped the last four feet to the flagstones. Her knees absorbed the shock, and she leaned against the wall, trembling.
A half-hour later on her way out to find some lunch, she stood at the foot of the apartment stairs and took in the rubble littering the patio. With luck there would be buyers out there who would take a property as-is and still pay a healthy price. Her whole purpose in coming to New Orleans was to sell the property to pay off her mom’s medical bills, and she had to get home for the beginning of the fall school year. There wouldn’t be enough time to get the stairs rebuilt first.
She clutched the Greek island yarn bag she’d found and locked the alley door, half expecting to see the handsome bounty hunter leaning against the balcony support. He must have decided to leave her alone. Fine with her. She had to go back to the casino to find out if anyone had turned in her purse, and she could do without having to explain herself to him.
A high stucco wall ran to the corner on one side of the bookshop. Another shop occupied the building on the opposite side, and he bed and breakfast inn she’d seen yesterday from the car filled the far corner. She’d been only ten when she and her mom left New Orleans, and she’d never walked around by herself in the Quarter. Except for the cleaners across the street and the bar on the opposite corner, residential buildings lined the opposite side of the block.
No one even glanced her way, not even the tourist couple walking past. That nerve-racking wall descent had keyed her up good. There’s nothing to worry about here. Go get lunch.
The smell of hot croissants drifted out the door of a French pastry shop, but Jackson Square would have more food choices. Sure enough, she found a restaurant facing the square and read the displayed menu, looking for something less that the twenty-five dollars she’d found in a cookie jar earlier.
Prickles danced over her scalp. She stilled and gripped the bag strap, making a slow three-sixty. Sidewalk artists attended their wares displayed on the square’s fence. Clumps of tourists in the intersection behind her listened to street musicians. In the middle of the stream of people entering the square two men headed her way.
The shorter man wore a red baseball cap. The taller, a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. The one in the cap had rushed out of the casino after her yesterday. He sent out the same threatening vibes now as he elbowed aside a woman with a raised phone camera to bear down like a heat-seeking missile.
Some instinct had sent her running then. Her throat closed again now. All she wanted to do was escape.
She dashed into the square, past the buskers and fortune tellers. Mirror Man and Red Cap kept coming. She needed to hide. But where? She scanned the historical buildings, her chest tightening.
Tourists disappeared through a narrow church entrance. She hunched down to keep out of view and ducked inside the cathedral to crouch behind a pew.
The men did not appear at the door. She pressed a hand to her chest and sagged into a pew. She would wait. The service droned on and on, and she kept her eye on the entrance.
Maybe the men would give up searching. Hal wasn’t around to defend her today. Not that she liked depending on anyone else, but she’d always been realistic and practical, and she hadn’t trusted either Red Cap or Mr. Persistent. They thought she knew some other man and had grown belligerent. She did not want to know how far they would go, and did not want to find out.
The priest finally finished and left through a side exit. With another glance over her shoulder, she crept that way, too. The door had locked behind him, and she hurried to leave through the front with the departing parishioners.
Mirrored sunglasses somewhere in the crowd outside flashed in the sun. She missed the single step and went sprawling. Her pulse thundered. She’d created a spectacle. People were noticing.
She struggled to her feet. She had to get out of the square.
A paved alley appeared alongside the cathedral. She ducked in there and took a deep breath. In a few minutes she’d be back safely at the bookshop. Before she could take two steps, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Don’t make a s–s—” Red Cap squeezed her arm.
“If you’re going to talk. I have to face you to understand what you say.”
Her stomach pitched. Oh, no.
Now, he could take advantage of her hearing problem to… Her heart pounded. She had no idea.
The burly casino dealer dragged her out of the alley, his pair-of-pliers grip cutting off her circulation. If she screamed to get attention, he could crush the bones in her wrist.
She couldn’t even look away to catch someone’s attention. But wasn’t there a police presence around here? Or some more helpful tourists?
“Don’t you dare scream.” Red Cap hurried her away from the square. “We need to talk.”
“I’m listening.” Or was she the one who was supposed to talk?
“Not here.” Impatience flashed across his face as he steered her around a group of Japanese tourists spreading across the pavement.
She leaned in their direction, but they all stared open-mouthed at the overhead balconies and snapped pictures. Red Cap pushed her forward down the narrow street. Mirror Man latched onto her other arm and jammed something hard into her ribs.
A gun? Or a knife?
Her chest tightened. “Please don’t hold so tight.”
A black sedan idled at the end of the block. She tugged on her arm and dug in her heels. “I don’t get into cars with strange men.”
“I’m not a—. We met already.” Red Cap lifted his eyebrows and sneered. “When you were with—”
Don’t freeze. Another migraine might hit. Then she’d be even more at their mercy. “Will you stop and tell me who you’re talking about?”
“You know.” He halted. “Randy.”
“Randy?” She flicked a glance at the waiting car. “I’ve never met anyone named Randy.”
Red Cap shook his head. “I saw you with him.”
“What does he look like?” She stalled. “Have you got a photo you can show me?”
His mouth thinned, but Red Cap pulled out his phone and flipped through photos before showing her one. The man in the photo looked the same age as Mr. Persistent with light brown hair sort of shaggy around the collar. She’d never met him, but…but…
The doctor told her she might not remember everything. Hal had repeated that, too. Maybe she had met him and didn’t remember. Might never remember!
“I don’t know that man.”
“We know you do.”
The two men grabbed hold and hauled her toward the sedan ahead. The rear passenger door opened, and her pulse ratcheted to Mach one.
A mule-drawn carriage appeared and stopped right alongside the car. The man in the car must have yelled because the carriage operator jumped to the street, his fists raised.
Red Cap muttered under his breath, dropped her arm and ran forward. Mirror Man’s grip loosened.
She went limp and slipped to the ground. When he spun toward her, she swung her leg. The pistol in his hand went flying.
Get up. Run.
Once on her feet, she elbowed her way into the packed mob of foreign tourists. After squeezing through to the other side, she raced across the square to the cluster surrounding the buskers.
“Excuse me, please. Excuse me.” She waded through, trying to hurry.
She finally broke through to the other side and reached the next cross street. Only then did she glance over her shoulder. Mirror Man was right behind her, pushing through the throng. He didn’t hold his gun, but he had surely retrieved it—and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her.
Men clustered outside a bar at the end of the block. She circled the drinkers and fled inside. Laughter and the sour smell of spilled beer followed her as she tore down a dim hall. Please, please let this place have a back door.
The hall ended at a brick wall with a framed movie poster. Not a movie poster, a blow-up of the famous F. Scott Fitzgerald novel about the Jazz Age. On her right a silhouette of a 1920s flapper decorated a door. She pushed on the image and stepped inside.
Her lungs heaved, and she leaned against a sink, crossing her fingers that her pursuers hadn’t seen her come into the bar. After a few minutes, she clasped the cold, metal door handle to check the hallway when the panel swung inward.
“Sorry.” She jumped out of the way.
The sinewy woman in jeans and a sleeveless top who came in had been manning the beer taps. She whipped a cellphone from her hip pocket and swiped the screen. When she entered a stall, Annie went back to the door and peered out into the bar.
So far, she seemed to be in the clear, but when Mirror Man and Red Cap didn’t find her outside, they’d start searching the cafes and bars along the block. She grabbed a paper towel to wipe the sweat from her face, took a deep breath, and tried to think.
Something must have happened she could not remember, something that involved these men, the casino, and the mysterious “Randy.” She’d never feel safe until she found out. Somebody had to know, somebody like her bounty hunter.
At the time Hal had appeared in her life, she’d already been confused and disoriented. He had to know more than she did. Maybe a lot more.
She dug into the woven Greek islands bag, found his card, and read the name. Big Easy Bounty Hunters.
Stay away from bounty hunters!
Her mother’s warning whispered through her, but Hal had treated her kindly and courteously and disappeared—eventually—once she’d asked. Could she call him? Should she? He owed her nothing.
Sounds of rushing water came from one of the stalls. Annie moved away from the sink and waved a hand under the automatic towel sensor. A whirring noise spit out a brown paper ribbon. The woman ripped off the dispensed portion and nodded to her. “You all right?”
“Basically.” She wasn’t bleeding or anything obvious. “Did you happen to notice a couple of guys lurking around right before you took your break?”
“There are always plenty of men here. Lurking is what they come here to do.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Who are you talking about?”
“One is stocky and wears a red baseball cap. The other is taller than me and wears mirrored sunglasses.” Annie twitched the end of her braid. “They might be asking questions about someone like me.”
The woman cocked a hip. “I didn’t see anyone fitting those descriptions.”
“Great.” Annie sagged with relief. “I don’t suppose you have a pay phone?”
“The phone company took it away—I don’t know—ten, fifteen years ago.” The woman eyed her curiously. “Why?”
“I need to call a friend.” Her bounty hunter would never be a friend, but she had to say something the bartender would consider reasonable. “And I’ve lost my phone.”
“As long as it’s a local call, you can use mine.”
5
Annie huddled in the shadows of the Aquarium of the Americas, hunching her shoulders to make herself smaller before glancing in the direction of the French Quarter.
Stop it. Neither of those men followed you.
Young families milled around the entrance area. Tourist couples wandered along the river railing. A dad and mom with two little boys got tickets and walked into the aquarium. Annie threw her braid over her shoulder, squared her shoulders and stepped to the window.
Hal’s scrawl on the reverse of his business card proved unreadable, and she had called the printed number. According to whoever answered her call, Hal should be volunteering at the aquarium now. Putting herself at the mercy of a guy like him might not be the smartest thing to do but walking home to the bookshop—walking anywhere—scared her even more.
The cashier looked at her. “How many?”
“Do you know if Hal Guidry is still here? He’s a volunteer diver.”
“I wouldn’t know his schedule.” The woman pushed glasses up her nose. “Do you want to buy an admission?”
“Can I pop my head inside and check for him? Please. I’ll only be a minute.”
“You need a ticket to go inside for any
reason.” The booth operator folded her hands. “For any length of time.”
The clerk didn’t know her from Eve, but Annie suspected even the first woman on earth wouldn’t get any favors, either. A price menu hung above the counter. She calculated that, after paying the posted admission, she would have exactly ten cents for lunch. She’d come this far, though, and she might as well put all her chips on the line.
Refrigerated air swirled around her the second she entered the foyer. She unfolded the brochure with the floor plan. Hal worked in the shark tank. Which would probably be either the Gulf exhibit or the Reef.
A small child slammed into her legs and fell on her backside. Annie set the little girl on her feet. “Hey, hey, take it easy.”
“Mandy, you need to hold my hand.” The mother corralled her wayward child and shook her head. “Sorry. She’s overexcited.”
“No problem.”
The shrieks of more children drew her through a plexiglass tunnel where fish swam overhead. One of the black-clad scuba divers in the exhibit herded a manta ray closer to the viewing wall. She immediately recognized Hal and waved.
He stared at her as if she had two heads, and the manta slipped away from him to nearly collide with a shark on the prowl. The shark whipped around, its jagged teeth barely missing Hal’s arm.
She pressed a hand to her chest. That was close.
Hal recovered and waved. While he and another diver showed off more marine life, she sank onto a low bench to wait for him to finish. Later—she had no idea of the time—Hal stuck his head out of a door and beckoned her over.
“I’m so glad you’re all right.” She clutched his wetsuit-covered arm. “That shark was really close.”
He stared at her fingers and lifted his eyebrows. She winced and dropped her hold, hoping she hadn’t committed a scuba-diving faux pas.
“Since when do you care about me?” He hefted his tank in one hand, swim fins in the other, and dripped down the hall behind the other diver.
“Of course, I care.” She hurried to keep up with him. “You’re a human being.”