Dead and Breakfast (The New Orleans Go Cup Chronicles Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

I was back in my office setting up appointments with clients to review their communication firewalls when Jiff’s number rang on my cell phone.

“Julia is going to be arrested and taken downtown for arraignment,” he said before I could even say hello.

“What? What’s going on?”

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this. The police found a bloody dress they believe Julia wore the night they went out and a bronze statute exactly like the ones she has in the other guest rooms with the victim’s bloody head matter all over it in a dumpster at the end of her street. They are sending both to forensics to run DNA and the prints,” he said.

“Oh my God. What can I do to help?”

“I’ll call you back when I get more info.” He hung up and I sat there holding the phone.

This didn’t make sense. I had to get to Julia and find out what happened. I called the bed and breakfast and Frank answered.

“Frank, stop crying. I know Julia didn’t do it. What happened?” I asked.

He sniffled. “About ten cops showed up here an hour ago and said she was being arrested for the murder of Gervais St. Germain and started reading her rights. She looked so stunned she just barely got out telling me to call Jiff Heinkel’s office, that’s your friend’s firm, right? His card is right here on the reception desk.”

“What else did they say? Did they say where they were taking her?” It felt like an enormous hand was squeezing my chest.

“No, they hauled her off in handcuffs, and wouldn’t say a thing to me. They would not answer one of my questions. I asked them where they were taking her but they just ignored me.” He started crying again.

“Pull yourself together. Julia needs our help, your help right now. You have to stay there and take care of the guests and the hotel. How many guests are checked in?” I asked him.

“Five, I think, maybe four, no five. There are five guests here right now.”

“Well, can you cook? Can you stay there and make them breakfast?” I asked him.

“I just clean, I don’t know how to cook or serve food. I don’t know how to check anyone in or out. I don’t know how to run the credit card machine.” He started crying again.

“Just write everything down, credit cards, peoples names, how long they stayed, we’ll figure it out. I’ll see if I can get our housekeeper to come help you. She’s a good cook. Her name is Woozie… and Frank, just do your best in the meantime,” I said, and hung up.

I called my parents house and sure enough Woozie, our housekeeper since I could remember, answered the phone. “The Alexander residence.” She sounded like she was answering for the White House.

“Woozie, it’s me and I need your help.”

“Well, I don’t see you or hear from you since you moved out. You don’t call ole Woozie and tell me where you is living, what you is doing, who you is seeing and not seeing…nothing. Humph.”

“I know, I’m sorry but I’ve kinda had my hands full with uh, life.”

“Well, just so you know, I misses you and your daddy misses you. He can’t stop talking about you. He’s always saying, ‘this is Brandy’s favorite’, or ‘Brandy always takes seconds of that’ when I make dinner. Your momma misses you too, even though she don’t say it.”

“Yeah, she misses me like a toothache. I’m sorry I haven’t called you but I try to avoid my mother’s house because of all the hoopla with me and Dante.”

“Lawd, yes. Your momma can’t stop talking about the mess you started by kissing that fella at the parade. Then, you up and move out so I don’t hear or see you and I don’t know nothing ‘bout you and this new man except what your momma tells me. I know she goes and gets it all wrong. She won’t tell me the truth what goes on wit you, just what she wants me to know. Now, all she can talk about is that friend of yours who done murdered some man dead in her hotel after she sleep wit him. How’s your momma know that? She is calling her the Black Widow since her husband just died too. I saw that woman on the news. She’s not black, why is your momma calling this woman black? I gotta hear all that from her. I don’t hear from you to give me the real news. I don’t think your momma has got all the facts.”

“A black widow is a spider that kills its mate after they have sex.”

“Really? Like a viper woman?”

“That would be a snake woman like Cleopatra. Look, I’ll explain all that later. Woozie, I really need your help. The police have arrested Julia and taken her in. There’s only her…uh…houseman there who cleans and fixes things. There’s no one to cook the breakfast for the guests. Can you go over there and help out until she gets released? I’ll pay you if Julia can’t.”

“You want me to go help a murderess? A black widow spider woman, who kilt a man after she slept wit him?”

“She didn’t kill anyone. I know Julia and you don’t need to be afraid of her. This is a big mess.” I started to plead when Woozie cut me off.

“Oh, I don’t care if she gone and done it. Your momma thinks she killed him dead. This is gonna make her crazy enough to pitch a conniption fit when she hears I work there. She gonna think I know something she don’t,” she said, chuckling to herself. “Oh, yeah, I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Early, right, and don’t you go tell your momma I said that.”

“Yes, the earlier the better, and I won’t tell her if you don’t. I mean, don’t tell anyone, anything that you see or hear over there, except me.”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout old Woozie. We been keeping secrets for each other since the night your daddy got drunk with his brother and named you. When they came home neither one of them could write their own name. I’m the one who wrote your name on that birth certificate. I know that and you know that. Your momma don’t know and we gonna keep it that way. Woozie don’t tell nobody nothing.”

“I know my secrets are safe with you. I love you, Woozie. The guy, the cleaning man’s name is Frank,” I said, and then gave her the code to get in the back kitchen door.

***

I was about to leave on my appointments when my cell phone rang and the police department’s main number came up on caller I.D. It was Dante on the other end, in his official police—I’m not trying to win you back—voice, telling me that Julia was arrested and that I would most likely get called in for questioning.

“Are you going to question me,” I asked him, “or another detective?” I wondered if Hanky Panky was finally going to realize her dream of interrogating me. She was probably out right now looking for the highest wattage light bulb to sit me under during questioning. She might get lucky and find a pair of brass knuckles on her shopping spree.

“I don’t know. It won’t be me.”
Oh yeah, it was going to be Hanky Panky.
“I just wanted to give you a heads up. You might want to start to distance yourself from Julia. This has repercussions that could suck you in.”

“Well, thanks for the warning, and oh, I wanted to thank you for following me home from the Napoleon House for my safety. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t follow you home,” he said, and hung up.

***

I was jittery the rest of the day trying to stay focused. I had appointments to speak to clients who had complicated fraud problems and I needed to find solutions for them. Each time I was leaving a client’s office, I was expecting a smiling Hanky Panky in a police car waiting at the door to haul me in for questioning. When there was no police car I watched my rear view mirror wondering if someone was following me, and why. I thought I was probably making something out of nothing.

At my last appointment of the day, I called on the largest liquor wholesale distributor in the city. I met with the CEO who outlined their problem with hackers trying to reroute deliveries. I reviewed this case and said I’d upgrade his firewall, run diagnostics and remote testing to see if he was still vulnerable.

“Thanks, Ms. Alexander.”

“Please call me Brandy.” I stood to leave and shook his hand.

“You know with your name you’d make a heck of a liquor salesperson.” We both laughed. I picked up a bottle of Chianti he had on his desk and looked it over.

“Take it if you like red wine. My wife and I don’t drink Chianti. A client, well I should say a friend, ordered it and gave me a bottle. We don’t stock it. It was a special order.”

“It looks like a bottle my friend’s dad brought to my parents house when she announced she was getting married and asked me to stand,” I said.

“Donnato Fortunata’s daughter?” he asked.

“Yes. Small world. He’s your customer?”

“I’ve known him and his family for years. I import that for him, usually a case at a time. He says it is the best Chianti from Italy, so he ordered several cases for his daughter’s wedding.”

“Yes, he brought a bottle of this to my parents’ house. My dad loved it. New Orleans is great like that. If you talk to someone five minutes you will know someone they know. Now, I’m sure I’ll see you at the wedding. It’s going to be a big to do, this wedding and reception.”

“Yes, Donnato is sparing no expense for his only daughter.”

***

All afternoon nothing happened and no one called me with an update. I finally called Jiff’s office and his secretary told me he was working on Julia’s ‘situation’ and he’d said to tell me he would call as soon as he could. She added that he would have Julia call me as soon as she was released.

When I heard from Jiff later that evening he told me he put me on the defendant’s witness list and he said the prosecution would probably treat me as a hostile witness at trial since Julia called me right after the murder. We set up a time at his office so he could prep me to anticipate their questions which he felt would try to make me look like I helped her cover up evidence. I was more worried than ever, now that it was looking like Julia and her case were going to trial.

Julia was about to have a nervous breakdown by the time Jiff bonded her out late that evening. I went by the B&B after I stopped home to explain what I had done earlier since Woozie was there. I wanted to eyeball her and see how she was handling all this.

“Woozie is at your hotel because I asked her to come and take care of breakfast and help out,” I said.

“Frank was here,” she said absently. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy from crying.

“Yes, I know, but Frank can’t cook. He told me so and I thought Woozie could help him and fix breakfast,” I said. “Woozie is very organized and Frank… well, Frank isn’t. But, he’s helpful and very distraught over your situation.” She looked up at me for criticizing Frank. “Woozie was more than happy to do it.” I added.

“Woozie? Happy to help me? I suppose that is a good idea in case I’m hauled out of here again. What I keep going over and over in my mind is I could go to jail for a murder I didn’t commit and what is going to become of this place. Who do I have to run it? I’ll never recover from this.” She paused to blow her nose. “You wanna hear the best? More people are calling to make a reservation thinking it’s haunted here because it used to be a funeral home. They ask how many murders have taken place here over the years and what ghost is actually doing the murders? Can you believe it?” she asked.

“You know you can’t buy marketing like that. However, it might be a good idea not to mention to Woozie that people think this place is haunted. She didn’t seem to mind the fact that someone was murdered here, but haunted and ghosts are another story with Wooz. Anyway, use the bump in business to help pay your attorney fees for your defense. This case might go on for awhile but it would be great for business if you got a reputation for having paranormal activity.”

“What? You think people want to stay in a place that’s haunted?” She blew her nose again.

I lowered my voice. “People drive all the way to St. Francisville to spend a night in plantations they claim have spirits roaming around in them. It’s way out in the country with nothing to do except wait around to be spooked. But seriously, don’t say the “h” word or the “g” word around Woozie, got it?”

“Oh, all right, I’ll try to remember and I’ll tell Frank not to say it’s…” Julia only mouthed the word haunted.

I hesitated but then plunged in. “Did the police find your dress with the statue in the dumpster down the street? The way the room looked, it seemed all your clothes were off and hanging from the chandelier.”

“I wore that dress in there but it didn’t stay on long and I really didn’t miss it when you or the police got here. I didn’t notice the statue missing either. The statue is a knock off, not a real antique so it isn’t worth much.”

“That’s not the point. This isn’t an insurance claim. If you didn’t put your dress back on to leave the room, what did you wear when you left?” Julia’s answers were starting to confuse me. If I found flaws in her story, I could only imagine how the prosecutor would rake her over the coals.

“I didn’t wear anything, I just got out of bed and went to shower. There was no one else registered here to see me. It’s more or less like I told you. I did shower and dress before I called you. I woke up next to him and I never really looked at him before I got out of the bed, but now I realize he had to have been dead already. I showered thinking it would make me feel better. I thought I cut myself because I saw blood run off me in the shower. It didn’t even occur to me it might not be mine. I told you, everything felt blurry, like a really bad hangover. I dressed, went down to make us some breakfast and dropped the tray like I said when I went back into the room and saw him dead. I checked to see if he had a pulse. That’s when I called you. I knew he was dead. I think I was in the bed with him when he was killed. I just don’t remember anything.”