Murder in the Rue Ursulines

“Do I look like I’m deaf?” He dropped his cigarette on the floor. “Everybody’s heard about that.”

“She was killed in that house.” I replied. “It wasn’t Rosemary’s house, it was hers. Rosemary worked for her. That’s whose drycleaning you were picking up. And you were there, inside the house, the night Glynis Parrish was murdered.”

“Dude.” He whispered. “No way.”

“You have to talk to the police, Joey. You have to tell them you were there.”

“No, I am not talking to the police.” He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Man, that hurt.” He rubbed his arm. “I can’t talk to the police. I got a warrant.” His voice got whiny. “They’ll put me in jail.”

“I have friends in the department, Joey. I won’t let that happen.” I didn’t know how much pull I had, but I’d do what I could. “You have to. If they find you on their own-and if I found you, the police can-it’ll be much harder on you. With a warrant and all.”

“Jesus.” He got up. “I have to get back to work.” He adjusted his underwear. He leaned down and brushed his lips against my cheek again. “I really do like you,” he said softly. “That’s not a part of my act, either. I really really like you. And you’ll help me out? You aren’t just saying that?””

I dug a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to him. “I’d like to spend some more time with you. Can I get your number? I’ll take you out to lunch tomorrow if you’d like.”

“You got your cell handy?”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and programmed the number in as he gave it to me. “My last name’s Rutledge. You didn’t tell me yours.”

“Chanse. Chanse MacLeod.”

“Take a chance?” He giggled, and kissed my cheek again. “You better call me, man. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

“You won’t blow me off?”

“I never turn down a free meal. And I want to get to know you better, too, big man. You’re exactly what I look for in a man.” He walked out of the back room and into the dressing room. The door shut behind him.

I slowly got up and pushed through the crowd. Three different boys were dancing on the bar. A Kylie Minogue song was playing. Adonis was one of the boys up on the bar, and when I passed him he stuck his tongue out at me. I had to get out of the bar.

I took a deep breath when I got outside, and leaned against the wall.

I felt sorry for him. His life was about to explode, but he wanted to be famous. He was about to get his chance. Maybe he could use the notoriety to improve his lot. The guy whose wife cut his dick off-Bobbitt? He’d made a couple of porn movies. Joey had the body for it. Maybe that would be his way out. Maybe he could make some money, get to make a fresh start somewhere.

I felt almost paternal towards him, and that was weird. He wasn’t all that much younger than me. I started walking to my car.

I never pass up a free meal.

I shook my head and started walking faster until I reached my car. I got in and sat there for a moment, waiting for my heart to stop beating so fast.

Maybe I should wait for him to get off work, take him back to my place, make him something to eat…

…and what? Turn him over to Venus? I’d call her after I talked to him, have her meet us wherever we decided on for lunch.

Yeah. It was best to just drive home and call it a night. Go to bed by myself, and call him in the morning. It wasn’t an act-there was no need for him to put on an act for me. He just thought I was some hot guy who was into him, who just happened to see him the night he’d made a hundred bucks for doing Rosemary a favor.

She was setting Freddy up.

The trick was going to be finding out why she was doing it.

I started the car, and pulled out onto Burgundy Street.

Paige was going to just fucking love this.

Chapter Fourteen

When I got home, I couldn’t get Joey Rutledge out of my head.

While sitting on my couch, listening to Amy Winehouse, I couldn’t help but think, there but for the grace of football, go I. Had I not found football and used that to escape from Cottonwood Wells, I could have just as easily wound up a lost boy in the Quarter, dancing at the Brass Rail and whoring myself out to older men for dollar bills. How different would my life be had football not paid my way through LSU? It was the kind of thing I generally preferred not to think about-how one small thing can change the rest of your life. Had one of my coaches not been roommates in college with an assistant coach at LSU, it stands to reason I would never have been offered a scholarship there. LSU wasn’t the only place that offered me one-SMU, Rice and Ole Miss had also come knocking on my door-but I wanted out of Texas, and the proximity to New Orleans had been the true deciding factor in making my decision to go to school in Baton Rouge.

I didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to me had football not provided me a way out of Cottonwood Wells. Would I have wound up stuck in that dreary little town, a gay man longing for the bright lights of the big city? Working in the oil fields with my father and hating every minute of every day of my life-or would I have managed to somehow escape? Joey had struck a chord in me. When I managed to go to bed finally, I wondered how much money he’d made tonight.

I never pass up a free meal.

He would be easy enough to find again.

I slept relatively well, which surprised me. I made coffee and while it brewed, checked through the blinds on the front door to see if the hyenas were back. I groaned. Apparently, there was no getting rid of them during the daylight hours. I turned the computer on and while it warmed up, got myself a cup of coffee. It was too early to call Joey. I called Paige instead, but got her voicemail. I asked her to call me with an update on Glynis’s housekeeper and massage therapist.

I signed into my e-mail account and sighed with irritation. The mailbox was full again. A lot of people have way too much free time, apparently, and choose to fill it by sending nasty e-mails to people they don’t know. I started cleaning it out, hoping that Mrs. Zorn hadn’t tried to send Karen’s picture and had it bounce back to her. I glanced over at my fax machine, but there was nothing there. I finished emptying the mailbox and leaned back in my chair.

I’d been pretty sure Freddy had killed Glynis. But now that I wasn’t sure he was the one I’d seen coming out of her house, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I went to the Times-Picayune’s Website. When it loaded, a headline screamed at me: Another murder in the French Quarter!

I clicked on the link.

“Police responded to a report of gunfire in the 600 block of Esplanade Avenue at three in the morning. The responding officers found a gunshot victim in the neutral ground. He was identified as Joseph Rutledge, 23, originally of Lake Charles. Rutledge was pronounced dead at the scene. He had been shot twice in the chest. His discarded wallet was found next to the body.

“Rutledge was a dancer at the Brass Rail, a bar in the French Quarter that caters to a gay clientele. Police theorize he was on his way home from work when he was mugged. A backpack he was wearing when he left the Brass Rail that contained his tips for the evening-estimated by coworkers to be around several hundred dollars-was missing, as well as his cell phone.

“This is the thirty-fifth murder of the year-“

I stopped reading. I felt numb.

Joey was dead.

There was no fucking way this was a random mugging.