“Good afternoon,” Barry said to the receptionist.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Weber. And no, I don’t have an appointment,” Barry quickly added, knowing that question was coming. “Tell him I only need a second. I’m an attorney, and I have information regarding a case he’s working on.”
“Very well,” she said, dialing Daniel Weber’s extension, then relaying to her boss Barry’s message word for word.
The receptionist listened for a second, then she looked up at Barry. “Mr. Weber is busy at this time but asked if you would leave your name and phone number. He’ll get back to you.”
“Tell him the client’s name is Gabrielle de Jean, better known as Gabby.” Barry shouted loud enough for Weber to hear before she could disconnect the call.
The receptionist listened to Weber for a moment, then she rose. “Mr. Weber will see you. Please follow me.”
When the receptionist opened the door to Daniel Weber’s plush river-view office, Barry was greeted with a forced smile.
“Daniel, how are you?” Barry said like they were long-lost friends.
The door was no sooner closed than Daniel approached Barry. “Who the hell are you?”
The floor was Barry’s stage, and he kicked into what he hoped was going to be his Oscar-winning performance.
“Sit down, Daniel. I’m not a PI working for your wife. I’m here to help.” He pulled out a chair at a small conference table, and Daniel followed and sat down.
“I know you from the courts,” he lied. “We were on opposite sides in a few cases. I always lost, but that’s not why I’m here.” Barry pulled the letter out of his pocket. “Your Friday-night rendezvous with Gabrielle de Jean.”
Daniel licked his lips, then took a deep breath. The stone-cold divorce lawyer who could stand in court and lie for his clients without blinking an eye looked worried. It was a big confidence builder for Barry; he’d hit one out of the park already and had Daniel rattled.
Barry leaned forward. “I was her Wednesday night roll in the sack. Did you think you were special? She tells you how good you are. You’re the best she ever had?”
“How did you know that?” Daniel said. “The best she ever had?”
Barry was taken aback for a second. How the hell had Lucy known? Couldn’t have been a lucky guess. He stuck to the script.
“She tells everyone that. Fortunately for you, I’ve got a friend at the clinic,” Barry said and continued in character for the final act. He slipped the envelope across the table. The logo of the Ninth Ward clinic stood out. Daniel clearly saw the bold print. Sweat beaded on his forehead and started to run down the sides of his face.
He opened the letter and scanned the list of unchecked boxes. Then the one checked box jumped off the page at him.
“STD positive!” Daniel bellowed, then he lowered the volume. “STD, really?”
“Yeah… full-blown genital herpes,” Barry whispered. “Luckily I’d flashed a picture of her to a friend—you know, showing off. Letting him know I scored with a real beauty. That’s when he recognized her—he’s a technician at the clinic. After a little research, he sent me that letter.”
Barry followed Lucy’s script and retrieved the letter from Daniel. “I’ll take that. My friend could lose his license for releasing personal information. A thousand bucks persuaded him.”
“That bitch,” Daniel said. Then he pulled five hundred from his pocket. “Here, let me pay for half. It’s worth it, and thanks for looking me up.”
“No, I don’t want your money.” Barry couldn’t believe he was turning the money down. They hadn’t rehearsed that part.
“Take the money,” Daniel repeated. “Friends help friends.”
Barry didn’t hesitate this time; he grabbed the money and headed for the door. Stopping at the exit, he turned back. “Wednesday night, I didn’t show up; she’s not worth the risk. The clinic said I’m clean as of today. You might want to reconsider Friday nights.”
“You think?” Daniel said. “By the way, how did you know I was her Friday night?”
Barry could act if he had a script. Ad-libbing wasn’t his strong point. He did what Lucy had coached him on if he encountered a problem—smile and walk away.
A taxi took him back to Café Beignet and waited while he ran in to tell Lucy the great news. He gave her the letter back. “He completely bought it. I should get an Oscar for that performance.”
“I knew you could pull it off.”
Barry rushed off to deliver his suit back to the inventory room at the studio. He patted his bulging pocket. Netting seven hundred bucks for a few minutes’ work was almost as good as picking up a gold statue.
It was a few minutes before three in the afternoon when Lucy got back to the salon. She made eye contact with Wanda and gave her a nod, letting her know that everything had gone as planned. Wanda, the only person who ever knew what Lucy was up to or what type of scam she was running, nodded back.
Right on time, Ava Weber walked in the front door for her hair appointment. She picked up a glass and the champagne bottle from an ice bucket and poured an ample amount.
Ava raised her glass. “Let’s celebrate. Today was a perfect day.”
“Hello, Ava,” Lucy said, opening the bead drape that separated the salon and Vivien’s alluring work area.
“My dear, I need to talk to you,” Ava said, stepping through the beads.
Ava’s excitement bubbled over, and she detailed a conversation she’d just had with her husband, Daniel. Lucy sat grinning and all ears waiting for his side of today’s events. Daniel told Ava to get her hair done and pick out something pricey at DH Holmes, one of New Orleans’ upscale department stores. A store they had argued about many times because of the amount
