Travis had thought that might be a problem, but he was prepared to bluff his way through it. After all, bullshitting was second nature to him. Just like stealing. “If you’re the expert you claim to be, you should be able to tell just by looking at her that she’s the real deal.” He reached out and flipped one of the doll’s golden curls with his fingertip. “You said yourself you’ve never seen such quality.”
The woman slid the glasses up her nose and bent back over the doll. “I’m ninety-nine percent certain she’s genuine, but if you could obtain her paperwork, the value would double.”
“Sorry, but I’m offering her as is. You don’t want her, I’ll go elsewhere. I figure there’s plenty of shops and private collectors out there who’d like to get their hands on a fine piece like this.”
“Perhaps. But you have to understand my position. My livelihood hinges on my reputation. If you could at least tell me how and where you acquired her…?”
Travis didn’t like the sound of that. The last thing he needed was for the old biddy to call the cops. “Why do you need to know that?”
“As I said, I have a reputation to consider. I have to be cautious.”
This wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. The woman was playing hardball and he now had two options. Stay and haggle or take the doll and walk. By this time tomorrow he’d probably have another buyer, but he didn’t much like the notion of driving all the way back home, knowing those glass eyes would be watching him another night.
“Okay, it’s like this. The doll belonged to my girlfriend’s kid. The little girl up and died suddenly, and my old lady can’t have a reminder like that lying around the house. She asked me to get rid of it for her. Considering everything she’s been through, I don’t see how I can worry her about the paperwork. You understand.”
“Of course I do. How awful to lose a child. And one so beautiful.” She stroked the doll’s smooth check. “I have two little granddaughters. I can’t imagine anything more tragic—”
“So we got us a deal or what?”
The shopkeeper’s attention lingered on the doll. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away. “Cut ten percent off the price we discussed on the phone and we’ll call it a day.”
“Sounds fair enough.”
She smiled, satisfied. “Good. If you’ll wait here, I’ll write you a check.”
Travis’s hand snaked out to curl around her wrist. “Like I said earlier, I’m partial to cash.”
The woman’s eyes flickered. He could see suspicion working its way back to the surface, but she wanted the doll so bad she was willing to ignore her instincts. She shook off his hand and gave a curt nod. “I’ll be right back.”
She reappeared a few moments later and handed him an envelope. “It’s all there—the amount we agreed on earlier, less ten percent. But feel free to count it, Mr….”
Travis pocketed the envelope with a grin. “I trust you. Besides, if you short me I know where to find you.”
The woman’s hand fluttered to her throat and she turned a little pale, as if suddenly realizing that she’d just struck a bargain with the devil.
She followed him to the door and after he stepped outside, he heard the click of the dead bolt behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the woman’s silhouette in the window, but she quickly shut off the light and pulled the shade.
Travis stood on the sidewalk for a moment, deciding whether he wanted to go straight home or stop off somewhere for a drink. It wasn’t often he had spare change in his pocket. Might as well do a little celebrating.
Across the street, a shadow darted into a doorway, and his heart raced. For a moment he thought it was the woman he’d seen earlier on Bourbon Street, but as he peered into the shadows, he couldn’t make her out.
He was seeing things, probably. A guilty conscience could make a man jumpy.
Whatever the hell was wrong with him, he couldn’t wait to get out of New Orleans. Too many weirdos hanging around to suit him. He’d leave the city before having that drink. Maybe stop off at a little place he knew on the way home, buy a bucket of shrimp and have a few beers. Later he’d make a liquor store run with Desiree, and the two of them could sit out on his back porch getting shit-faced as they watched heat lightning over the Gulf.
It all sounded good.
Hunching his shoulders against a light rain, he headed east toward Bourbon Street. At the corner of Chartres and St. Louis, a group of tourists had stopped to watch an old black man tap-dance beneath a balcony. The rat-a- tat-tat of his shoes resonated in the darkness, and for some reason the sound made Travis feel lonely.
He stopped to stuff a couple of bills into a beat-up coffee can, then quickly moved on, discomforted by the man’s toothless grin. The old geezer looked to be pushing eighty. He should have been tucked away somewhere in a rest home instead of busting his hump on a street corner in the rain. But that was New Orleans for you. The old didn’t die here. They were just forgotten.
“You don’t get yourself straightened out, that’ll be you someday, boy,” he could hear his daddy goad him.
Travis didn’t want to think about his father or the future or even what he was going to do with himself beyond the next drunk. He tuned out the echo of the old man’s taps as he neared the cathedral and turned up St. Peter.
The street was nearly deserted here except for a woman who stood in the glow of a shop window. She wore a green skirt, and when she moved her head, light sparked off her silver earrings.
Travis slowed his steps. She was the same woman he’d seen earlier on Bourbon Street.
Their gazes connected as he approached, and a shiver slid up his spine. She had the palest face he’d ever laid eyes on. He knew he’d never seen her before tonight, but there was something eerily familiar about her features. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
She smiled, and the skin at the back of his neck crawled. Who the hell
Spooked by that smile, Travis decided to keep on walking, but as he passed her, she said in a low voice, “Can I trouble you for a light?”
Not exactly an original line, but curiosity got the better of him and he reached in his pocket for a lighter. Turning, he shielded the flame with his cupped hand as she lifted a cigarette to her lips. They were nice lips. Not too full, not too thin. It was only when she smiled that something seemed off about her mouth.
She took a pull and slowly exhaled the smoke, then handed the cigarette to Travis. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it, but when he took a drag, she didn’t seem to mind.
“So what are you doing out here all by your lonesome?” he asked.
“Killing time.”
“Kind of dangerous to be here alone. Nothing but freaks in the Quarter.”
She smiled. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
That smile. Travis wished she’d stop doing that. It wasn’t a nice smile and it kind of ruined the mood for him. He glanced away.
“Do you like to party?” she asked.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“My place is just back there.” She nodded toward a narrow alley that ran between two buildings. “Got a nice little courtyard where we can sit and watch the rain. Come on,” she said, and started walking. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
Her smile might not do anything for him, but the way she walked sure as hell did. Travis followed her into the alley. He didn’t know if she was a hooker or just some bitch out for a good time, but at the moment, he didn’t really give a shit. The money he’d made from the doll was burning a hole in his pocket.
She was a few steps ahead of him, humming something under her breath.
“What’s that you’re singing?”
“It’s an old song. Something my mother used to sing to me at bedtime.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s nice.” He hurried to catch up with her. “My mama didn’t believe in music. Or dancing.”
“How sad for you.” She paused to adjust the strap on her sandal, and when she lost her balance, she grabbed Travis’s arm to right herself.
