Double Danger

Chapter 6-1

Sam had spent most of the past two days driving around with Beatrice and catching up with his past, while Leon Duval"s case was never far from his mind. All he had been able to think of late into the night was Madsen"s few pathetic possessions and her last words to him. “Like friends,” she had said, as though she had no one else.

Sam didn"t want to admit how much he had been drawn to Madsen because of their mutual isolation. He hoped she had just decided to move on to a new life, but he planned to drop by Maire"s just to ask a few questions to satisfy himself. But first, he had to eat.

As he cruised down Decatur in Jackson Square, he sucked in the essence of earthy river water mingled with the fragrance of strong coffee from the Cafe du Monde across the street. Beatrice sat up long enough to check out the action as a Dixieland band sauntered by. Sam liked the city on summer evenings. The air was sultry enough to keep the fish jumping and the tourist population under control.

Sam pulled over and stopped in front of Tujagues, one of his favorite restaurants in the French Quarter. He had been craving Southern home cooking and spicy ribs since his fast exodus out of Los Angeles, but earlier that morning he had resolved to forgo any alcohol chasers. After polishing off a good portion of Duval"s locally-brewed housewarming gift, he was sure he had also polished off his last living brain cell.

Sam took Beatrice around the back and left her with one of the waiters who had been there since Sam was a kid. “Thanks for looking after her, James,” he said as he turned toward the main dining room.

As soon as the maitre d" spotted Sam, he rushed over, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed Sam on both cheeks. “So good to see you, boy,” he smiled, “I"ve been waiting for you to drop by. You sure are looking good–hardly aged a bit.”

“Still given to hyperbole, I see. It"s great to see you, too, Antoine. How have you been?”

“Aw, the arthritis still gets to me, but forget all that. Sit down and eat, Sammy. Anything you want is on the house.”

“That"s not necessary, but thanks for the offer. Is Duval watching out for you well enough?” Sam inquired.

“Sure. He told me you wrote to him and asked him to come by my house to help out.”

“That"s the least I can do for one of Jem"s best pals.”

“He watches over the place, and gives me a hand with my car from time to time. That"s real nice of you both, son. So what"ll it be–the usual for you?”

“Bring it on, Antoine.” Sam pulled out a chair and looked around the old place as Antoine moved about giving orders. Tujagues was one of New Orleans" oldest restaurants, established in 1856 in a Spanish armory near the river. Over the years the restaurant had remained virtually unchanged, from the ornate Parisian mirror to the old cypress bar itself. The familiarity of the place made Sam feel grounded.

While Sam was studying the other diners pouring over their six-course meals, he noticed that his server had opened a bottle of wine and was offering him a taste for his approval. “A special gift from Antoine,” the waiter told him.

Sam hesitated, but the bouquet of the Corton-Charlemagne persuaded him to renege on his pledge of abstinence. “Wow – how generous! Tell Antoine it"s wonderful and that I said thank you,” he said as he allowed the waiter to fill his glass. Sam slowly sipped, welcoming the wine as a congenial table companion.

As he savored the wine, Sam observed a well-dressed man at a nearby table who was watching him. When Sam looked directly at the gentleman and nodded, the man looked away. Unfriendly bastard, Sam thought as he tried to place where he had seen the guy before.

Sam subconsciously catalogued the man"s expensive suit with its hand stitched lapel. Canale suit, silk, size forty-four short, with alterations, Sam determined. He suspected the man had eaten there before, as he was ordering another course without referring to the menu. When the stranger noticed Sam appraising him, he pulled a brochure from his pocket and pretended to study it.

Sam turned away and dug into the Coquilles St. Jacques the waiter had set in front of him. He had been coming to Tujagues since college when he and a frat brother named Roland had suffered from huge appetites and minimal income. They could always count on a huge meal at Tujagues, because Antoine was not only Jem"s old crony, but also Roland"s father.

Although Sam could hardly visualize Roland after two decades, he would never forget the night his friend was killed in a foolish incident in the Quarter. While still fresh-mouth punks, Sam and Roland had gotten into a brawl after a football game. The fight came to a halt when Roland was thrown through the window of a bar on Basin Street, severing his jugular vein. Sam remembered little more than lying in the street looking up at a horse"s belly while a towering cop climbed down from the saddle. In the years that followed, Sam had stayed in touch with Antoine, helping him out whenever he could.

Sam looked up as Antoine pulled out a chair. “Leon Duval tells me you"re going to fix up your father"s old place. Do you have enough money?”

“Duval talks too much, especially for a cop. And yes, I get a pension. I left L.A.P.D. after twenty years to the day. Thanks for asking, Antoine.”

“Don"t mention it. Just remember I"m here for you. I tried to write to you when your wife died, but I couldn"t do it, Sam. I couldn"t put the words down. I knew the pain would rip you to pieces no matter what I said. But take it from me, it does get easier.”

“It can"t get much worse.”

“I know, Sammy. I"m glad you got yourself a dog for company.”

“Is there anything Duval forgot to mention in his report?”

“Duval didn"t mention a dog. I saw your pooch when Charles was playing with her back in the kitchen. I"m glad you brought her. But if the Department of Health drops by, we"ll say she"s an assist dog.”

“She assists me more than anyone I know.”

“Golden Retriever, huh?”

“The only thing she retrieves is her feeding dish.”

“Yeah, she"s in the back working on one of our beef bones right now,” he grinned. “Have you seen Maire yet?”

“I dropped by there my first night back. Incidentally, I"m doing some unofficial investigating on a girl of hers who may be missing. Could be the girl just left town. She"s biracial, early twenties–named Madsen. She has real big eyes, shoulder-length curly dark hair, small mole on her left cheek. Can you ask around and keep alert? And don"t tell Duval I was asking. She probably moved on, but she could be in trouble.”

“I"ll do that. Now eat,” Antoine said before limping off after a waiter.

As Sam speared a scallop, he noticed the stranger watching him again. The guy seemed less like a tourist and more like a frequent or long-term visitor. Sam sized up what remained of a fresh trout on the man"s plate before he caught the title of the pamphlet the guy was reading–a brochure from the New Orleans aquarium. The burly guy apparently liked fish, but not so much that he wouldn"t consume them. The man paid his bill with cash, checked his gold Rolex, and then threw a wad of bills down for the waiter. New money, Sam figured, admonishing himself for not leaving his propensity for professional assessment in a file cabinet back in L.A.

Sam was poking at another scallop when a fork suddenly loomed over his plate. “Do you mind?” Duval asked with a grin. He stabbed a scallop without waiting for an answer.

“Duval, where in the hell did you come from?”

“The kitchen. I saw the Shelby, and Charles just stepped outside with your pup, so I was hopin" I"d find you.”

“I"m eating. Can it wait?” Sam sighed when Duval pulled out a chair and sat down without invitation. “I guess I should take that as a "no," ” he muttered.

While Sam was flagging his waiter to request a plate for Duval, the sullen stranger at the nearby table stood to leave, dropping his napkin on the floor in the process. He smoothed the creases in his pants, kicked the napkin under the table, and then pulled out a cigar. Sam noted that although the man was so precise about his clothes, he had mud on his heels.

When the stranger lit his cigar, Sam recognized the aroma of Havana Esplendido. Not a cheap smoke. It was the same brand one of his collars, a professional hit man back in L.A., had smoked. The hit man, in an odd salute to Sam"s savvy in solving the case, had sent Sam his personal stash before being incarcerated for life at Terminal Island Penitentiary.

“Hey, you wanna take that stinkin" thing outside, sir?” Duval barked close to Sam"s ear. “Ya can"t smoke in a restaurant!” The man stared down Duval while he took his time leaving.

Sam studied the man"s gait, still trying to figure out where he had seen him before. The shape of the head looked familiar. Had he seen him at Maire"s, he wondered. Or at Stanley Restaurant on Saint Ann Street that morning? It was uncharacteristic of him to forget a face. He was getting rusty.

“She"s dead,” Duval said matter-of-factly interrupting Sam"s thoughts.

Sam was completely thrown off-guard. “Who?” he asked.

“Madsen Cassaise.” Duval took a swallow of Sam"s wine, swished it around his mouth and swallowed. “She"s dead.”

Sam felt as if he were standing on sand at high tide. He heard the words fall out of Duval"s mouth like anvils, clattering onto the table as they landed helter-skelter. He reached for his wine and tried to stay tuned in to what Duval was saying.

“She had gone unidentified in the morgue awhile before I got wind of it. I had a hunch, so I sent Maire down to ID her. The victim supposedly had no family. Maire didn"t want the girl to be a charity burial at potter"s field out at Rest Haven, so I arranged for the body be released to Maire, who was generous enough to pay for a simple casket. Apparently she drowned in the river. The water in her lungs indicated she was still alive when she went in. The coroner said she showed signs of intoxication and drug overdose. No one knows where she went in.”

“Intoxication? She told me she didn"t drink.”

“Hell, Sam, I"m surprised she didn"t tell you she was still a damn virgin.”

“So Maire was sure it was Madsen?

“Well, the girl was pretty beat up by the current, but yeah. Anyway, the victim was released from the funeral home this morning and they laid her to rest out at Lafayette Cemetery out on Washington. I tried to reach you, but seein" as how ya" don"t have a phone yet and you were nowhere to be found, I had to track you down. Don"t know your cell number,” he shrugged.