Oyster Bay Two Step is Book 3 of my Oyster Bay Mystery Series set on a barrier island about fifty miles from New Orleans in the Gulf of Mexico. The island's primary attraction is the Majestic Hotel and Casino, a Prohibition-Era gathering place for rum runners and gangsters. The criminal element is long gone, replaced by a lighthouse keeper, an Atakapa Indian chief, and many ghosts from the past. The mystery begins when lighthouse keeper Jack Weisinski and Atakapa Indian Grogan 'Chief' La Tortue visit a Bourbon Street Strip club and meet a mysterious woman. I hope you love the story as much as I loved writing it.
Chapter 1
Jack Weisinski cranked his old truck’s air conditioning as he and Chief La Tortue headed north on St. Claude toward New Orleans.
“You’re the last Atakapa Indian on the face of the earth,” Jack said. “How does that make you feel?”
“I’m not,” Chief said. “I have a daughter and three granddaughters.”
“Why don’t you ever invite them to the island?” Jack asked.
“Never going to happen,” Chief said.
“Why not?” Jack asked.
“An ex-wife problem,” Chief said. “She poisoned whatever relationship I might have had with my daughter. I’ve never spoken with my granddaughters, and not even sure they know I exist.”
Jack was five-eight or nine and weighed less than one-hundred-forty pounds soaking wet. Chief stood at least a foot taller and weighed a hundred pounds more.
“Maybe you should reach out to your granddaughters,” Jack said. “What can it hurt?”
“I’m not into rejection,” Chief said.
“Except for a first cousin in Boston, I have no family,” Jack said. “If I did, I’d be reaching out.”
“Maybe one of these days,” Chief said. “Right now, I’m looking forward to some raw oysters in the French Quarter and then watching naked women dance at our favorite Bourbon Street strip joint.”
“Right on,” Jack said. “I love cooking, though now and then I enjoy eating something I didn’t cook.”
“How much money did you bring?” Chief asked.
“Plenty,” Jack said. “I wasn’t expecting to sell Venus so soon or to get as much as we did for her. What about you?”
“Two grand,” Chief said.
Jack and Chief were part owners of a service dog training facility on Oyster Island. Jack was also the lighthouse keeper on the island off the Louisiana coast in the Gulf of Mexico. Chief was the last male Atakapa Indian. His ancestors had owned the island though his ownership was in dispute.
They’d had an unexpected windfall when Josie, the daughter of Frankie Castellano, the man claiming ownership of the island, had purchased Venus for her son Jojo for fifty thousand dollars.
“Two grand won’t last long for a person who goes through rum, oysters, and table dances as fast as you do?” Jack said.
“You think? Maybe we should stop at an ATM,” Chief said.
“Good idea,” Jack said. “Been a while since we celebrated.”
“Too long,” Chief said.
The median lights of Canal Street illuminated palm trees and foot traffic on the sidewalks, an old streetcar rumbling toward the intersection with St. Charles Avenue.
“There’s a parking garage not far from here,” Jack said.
“Why not find a spot that doesn’t cost anything?”
“We’ll enjoy ourselves more if we don’t have to worry about the truck getting towed.”
“Your money,” Chief said.
“You buying dinner if I pay for parking?”
“Only if you let me choose where we eat,” Chief said.
“Why not?” Jack said. “There are no bad restaurants in the French Quarter. I can’t lose.”
“Then maybe you should pay half,” Chief said.
“No way,” Jack said. “You eat at my house practically every day. You need to do some catching up.”
Though Chief rarely smiled, Jack would have seen one on his face if he had glanced around.
“Fine,” Chief said. “Park this heap, and I’ll decide where we eat.”
The inside of the Acme Oyster House on Iberville was all old wood, neon beer lights, checkerboard tablecloths, and French Quarter atmosphere. If you weren’t hungry when you walked in the door, the aroma of fresh fried seafood wafting from the kitchen would quickly change that.
“I’m Josh,” the waiter with long sideburns and handlebar mustache said. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Oyster shooter,” Jack said.
“Make it two,” Chief said. “And a couple of dozen raw oysters.”
Barely dark outside, the restaurant had begun to fill with hungry diners.
“Cheers,” Jack said, clicking his shot glass against Chief’s.
The shot glass filled with vodka, cocktail sauce, and a freshly shucked oyster went down quickly.
“Tasty,” Chief said. “I could drink these all night.”
“Not and make it to Rockie’s, you won’t,” Jack said. “Let’s eat here and do our drinking at Rockie’s.”
“Yessir, boss,” Chief said.
“I’m not your boss,” Jack said. “If I were, I’d have you bend over so I could kick your big ass.”
Jack and Chief continued bantering as they waited for their oysters. Bourbon Street wasn’t far away, the dissonance ramping up whenever someone opened the door.
“Anything else?” Josh asked when they’d finished their oysters.
“Bowl of gumbo and the fried oyster platter,” Chief said.
“Oyster po’boy for me,” Jack said.
“Good choices,” Josh said.
Sometime later, their appetites sated, Jack and Chief tabbed out and joined the revelers on Bourbon Street. COVID-19 had almost put the French Quarter out of business. Like malaria, yellow fever, and all the past plagues that had engulfed New Orleans, infections finally began to wane, the crowds returning.
“I love the smell of Bourbon Street,” Jack said.
Chief shook his head. “Piss, sweat, and raging endorphins. Pretty damn heady!”
“Got that right,” Jack said. “How long since we’ve been to Rockie’s?”
“Almost a year,” Chief said. “We won’t recognize anyone.”
“Right about that,” Jack said. “Stripping at Rockie’s isn’t what you’d call a ‘forever’ job.”
“No, it isn’t,” Chief said.
They took their time, people-watching as they hiked to Rockie’s on the far end of Bourbon Street. Music wafted from the open door, a red neon scorpion in the front window inviting them to enter. A half-naked waitress with a pitcher of beer smiled as she took Chief’s hand.
“Vacant seats at the pussy bar,” she said.
“Don’t mind if we do,” Chief said.
Jack and Chief grabbed the last two chairs surrounding the elevated stage as a naked young woman gyrated to an old 70s rock anthem.
“What’ll you have?”
“Pitcher and two cold mugs,” Jack said.
The room was dark, only the supernatural glow of rotating spotlights illuminating the room. A fog machine beneath the dance floor shot periodic clouds of mist to the ceiling. The song the naked young woman danced to blasted out of giant speakers.
Chief nodded when Jack said, “Can’t remember the last time we managed to grab a seat at the pussy bar.”
“Let’s enjoy it,” Chief said.
Their waitress returned with a pitcher of beer and two chilled mugs.
“I’m Angela,” she said. “I remember you two.”
Angela’s bouffant blond hair highlighted her great smile and toned body clad only in the skimpiest blue bikini.
“Jack and Chief. Finish your degree yet?”
“One more year,” Angela said.
“I can’t remember what subject you’re majoring in,” Chief said.
“Political science,” Angela said.
“Is there a law degree in your future?” Jack asked.
“If I can pass the bar,” she said.
Chief handed her a hundred dollars. “You will,” he said. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks,” Angela said. “I’ll check on you in a bit.”
The rotating strobe lights, cool mist blowing up through holes in the floor of the elevated stage, many pitchers of beer, and one naked female after another intoxicated Jack and Chief. Chief was all but unconscious when Angela tapped his shoulder.
“There’s an open table in the corner,” she said. “Vixen can give you a table dance if you change locations.”
“Why not?” he said.
Chief grabbed the beer pitcher and followed Angela and Jack through the crowd of noisy voyeurs. Once situated in the dark corner, Angela brought them more beer. Another young woman soon approached the table.
“I’m Vixen,” the woman said. “Want a table dance?”
Vixen was tall, every inch of five-ten, her short hair naturally blond and her green eyes sultry. Chief handed her a hundred dollars.
“You have a strange accent. Where you from?”
The woman named Vixen had yet to smile. “No idea,” she said.
When a slow rock anthem began blaring from the speakers, Vixen removed her sequined bra and g-string and began to dance. Despite her height, she was so slender her ribs protruded from her torso.
Vixen’s every movement synched with the music, quickly becoming an erotic adventure for Chief. She picked her blue outfit off the floor and disappeared into the darkness when the song finished.
“Damn!” Jack said. “That woman’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Tell me about it,” Chief said.
“Is that the best table dance you’ve ever had?” Jack asked.
“The strangest,” Chief said.
“What do you mean?”
Chief wriggled his nose. “That girl hasn’t had a bath in a month.”
“You’re kidding me,” Jack said.
“It wasn’t horrible,” Chief said. “I’ve never been so turned on in my life.”
“She’s up next at the pussy bar.”
Vixen wasn’t simply attractive; she was startlingly beautiful. Everyone’s eyes focused on the young woman as she climbed onto the stage. When the music fired up, she began gyrating slowly, her facial expression as impassive as if she were mopping a dirty floor.
Vixen’s gloriously green eyes rolled to the back of her head when the song crescendoed. The mouths of many drunk patrons dropped open as Vixen began to levitate, rising almost to the ceiling and falling in a dull thud to the stage floor when the song ended.
Vixen smashed several pitchers of beer, drenching everyone sitting at the pussy bar as she rolled off the stage. An angry bouncer with neck tattoos hurried from a door behind Rockie’s.
The massive man was probably no taller than six-two though he weighed three hundred pounds. Except for his protruding stomach, his arms and upper chest appeared the work of a dedicated weight lifter. After hoisting Vixen like a sack of potatoes, he carried her off the stage. Chief followed them through the crowd.
Jack handed Angela a handful of hundreds as the gigantic bouncer kicked open the backdoor and dropped Vixen unceremoniously on the cement.
“I’ve had it with you, you stinking bitch!” he said. “Don’t ever come in here again.”
Chief blocked the bouncer’s path, “Wait just a minute,” he said. “You need your ass kicked.”
The bouncer produced a billy club from his belt and slammed it into Chief’s temple. Chief crumbled to the ground beside Vixen as Jack burst through the back door.
“Get that big motherfucker out of here before I call the cops,” he said.
The door slammed shut as Jack dribbled rum from his flask into Chief’s mouth and then Vixen’s. Their eyes finally opened.
Chief was rubbing his temple as Jack patted Vixen’s cheek.
“You okay, baby?” he asked. “Chief and I will take you home.”
“I am home,” she said.
Jack followed her when she walked behind the trash dumpster. A duffel bag sat beside the remains of a fire someone had started. Vixen pulled out a ragged pair of jeans, a blue work shirt, and flip-flops and began putting them on.
“You’re homeless?” Jack asked.
“This is my home,” she said.
As Chief joined them, the thought crossed Jack’s mind the young woman was mentally ill.
“We’ll take you to the emergency room,” he said.
“No hospitals,” Vixen said.
“You may have broken bones,” Jack said. “You fell from ten feet, and the bouncer dropped you directly on the cement.”
Vixen’s accent became more pronounced when she said, “No broken bones. Leave me alone.”
“We just want to help,” Jack said.
“If you try to rape me, I swear I’ll scratch your eyes out.”
“Jack and I wouldn’t rape anyone,” Chief said. “We only want to help you.”
“I do not need your help,” she said.
“We live on Oyster Island,” Chief said. “He’s the lighthouse keeper, and I’m Chief, an Atakapa Indian. Come with us to the island. We’ll feed you and give you a room for the night. We won’t lay a finger on you.”
When they reached the parking garage, Vixen said, “You sit in the middle. If either of you touches me, I’ll jump out.”
Chief scooted to the middle of Jack’s bench seat, remaining silent as they headed south toward Chalmette beneath the full moon’s light. Clouds had begun rolling in from the Gulf of Mexico, Jack’s headlights illuminating a late model Chevrolet in front of them. The vehicle pulled to the side of the road.
As they watched, someone opened the front door, a dog bouncing in the ditch after tumbling out. The door slammed, and the car sped away. Quickly recovering from its roll in the dirt, the dog ran after the car.
“Son of a bitch!” Jack said.
When the dog dropped from exhaustion, Jack stopped on the side of the road. Vixen ran to the animal, sobbing when Jack and Chief reached them.
Chapter 2
The hour was late, and the cars passing on the rural highway sparse. When Vixen’s tears finally dried, she tried to lift the dog into her arms. The blond cocker spaniel squirmed away, shaking as she backed against Chief’s legs.
“Why is she afraid of me?” Vixen asked.
She frowned when he said, “Not all abusers are males.”
Chief lifted the frightened dog and carried her to Jack’s truck. When he slid to the center, Vixen climbed in beside them. The cocker was covered with burrs and mud, cowering in Chief’s lap as Jack rubbed her head.
“What’s your name, little girl?”
The cocker had a choker chain around her neck with a nametag attached to the collar.
“Bella,” Chief said. “Now, we have two females needing a bath.”
The cocker’s tail wagged when Jack petted the dog’s head and said, “Good girl, Bella.”
Still distraught, Vixen rested her head against the passenger-side window and closed her eyes. Cradled in Chief’s lap, Bella relaxed.
Oyster Island was about twenty miles from Chalmette on narrow parish dirt roads. Bar ditches filled with crawfish and other creatures bordered their path. Their only illumination was Jack’s headlights and a full moon, mostly covered with dark rain clouds. He slowed when he crossed the wooden bridge to the island.
“What is this place?” Vixen asked.
“Oyster Island,” Jack said. “Not much south of us except the rolling waves of the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Bella’s bleeding,” Chief said. “Better stop at the clinic and check her out.”
The Oyster Bay Canine Training Facility, several buildings with various functions, was finally taking shape. Chief sat Bella atop a stainless steel examination table and switched on the overhead light. Vixen peered over Jack’s shoulder as he and Chief examined the dog.
“Bring me a pan of warm water,” she said. “Her wounds need cleaning.”
Jack and Chief got out of the way as Vixen trimmed the burrs from Bella’s fur, cleaned the mud with a wet rag, and disinfected the lacerations.
When Jack said, “You seem to know what you’re doing,” Vixen didn’t respond.”
“She has a deep cut on her back leg. Do you have a medical kit?”
“We have everything you need,” Jack said.
Chief and Jack assisted as Vixen deadened the wound, stitched and bandaged it.
“Your vet can look at her tomorrow,” Vixen said.
“We don’t have a vet,” Chief said.
Dark clouds had covered the moon, and rain was falling as they followed the covered walkway to Jack’s house directly below the Oyster Bay lighthouse. When Jack pushed open the door and turned on the lights, his English bulldog Oscar and Chief’s Chihuahua Coco, and German Shepherd Ol’ Joe came running to greet them. Vixen backed against the wall and eyed the open door.
“Ol’ Joe won’t hurt you,” Chief said.
Their tails wagging, Coco, Oscar, and Ol’ Joe gathered around Vixen. Seeing her distress, Jack took her hand and led her to his old recliner. He covered her with his orange Afghan. Within minutes, her closed eyes and soft breathing told him she’d fallen asleep.
Chief had placed Bella in a doggie bed near the fireplace. Her tail was wagging as the three other dogs checked her out. Chief was sitting at the plank table when Jack brought him a mug of rum.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he said.
“You got one hell of a bump on your head,” Jack said.
“Tell me about it.”
Jack gave him a bag of ice and two aspirins.
“When you’re my size, you learn not to pick fights you can’t win,” he said.
“You’re giving me a headache,” Chief said.
“Don’t blame me. Want something to eat?”
“Now you’re talking,” Chief said. “Need help?”
“When it comes to cooking, you’re about as helpless as tits on a boar hog. Sit and relax. I don’t know how you survived until I moved here.”
“My head is throbbing like a bass drum,” Chief said.
“You probably have a concussion.”
A storm had picked up outside the house, the curtains whipping in the wind. Jack slammed the window shut and returned to his food preparation in the galley.
“Damn!” Chief said. “Glad Vixen took your recliner. Looks like I’m sleeping on your couch tonight.”
“Why bother?” Jack said. “It’ll be dawn in a few hours.”
“I can barely keep my eyes open,” Chief said.
Jack handed him a blanket. Chief was soon snoring on the couch, Coco sleeping on his chest. Ol’ Joe curled up beside the recliner.
“Damn!” Jack said. “Come on, Oscar. If no one’s eating, we may as well catch a few zees.”
***
Though the sky was lighter, the rain continued as Odette Mouton and her two dogs, Mudbug and Bruiser, ducked out of the storm and burst through the door. Mudbug and Bruiser were puppies; Mudbug was small, and Bruiser was already bigger than most adult dogs.
Odette was a former stripper who’d worked in the same club on Bourbon Street as Vixen. While Odette and Vixen were attractive, their size difference was as dramatic as the two puppies.
Odette was short, barely five feet tall, with wind-swept blond hair contrasting her dark Cajun eyes. She’d hitchhiked to Oyster Island after meeting Jack and Chief at Rockie’s and was now part owner of the dog training facility.
“Can’t believe you and Jack are still asleep,” she said. “Late night?”
Chief grumbled as he hoisted himself off the couch and entered Jack’s bathroom. When he returned, he started a fresh pot of coffee, not speaking until he’d microwaved a cup and downed half of it.
“We decided to celebrate last night. Eat at a French Quarter restaurant and watch the naked ladies at Rockie’s.”
“What happened?” Odette said.
“We were planning to stay out all night,” Chief said. “Plans change.”
“Who’s sleeping on the recliner?” Odette asked.
“Vixen,” Chief said.
Hearing her name, Vixen opened her eyes. “Where am I?” she said.
“Oyster Island,” Chief said. “Remember?”
Vixen didn’t answer as she lowered the footrest and struggled out of the recliner. Chief pointed her to the bathroom. When she returned, he gave her a cup of freshly-brewed coffee.
“I’m Odette. Who are you?”
Vixen didn’t respond.
“Her name is Vixen,” Chief said. “She was dancing at Rockie’s. Jack and I rescued her and Bella, the cocker in the bed beside the fireplace. Vixen isn’t much into talking.”
Odette wrinkled her nose when she got a whiff of Vixen’s body odor and grabbed her by the hand.
“You need a shower,” she said.
Jack was coming out of the bathroom when Odette and Vixen entered it. After pouring coffee, he joined Chief at the plank table.
“What’s that all about?” he asked.
“Vixen’s body odor offended Odette. She took it on herself to do something about it,” Chief said.
“I can’t believe Vixen went with her,” Jack said.
“Maybe she doesn’t like men,” Chief said.
“I’m guessing some man did something to piss her off,” Jack said.
“Or men,” Chief said.
“Why do you say that?”
“We Atakapas have an extra sense,” Chief said.
“An extra stomach, I’d believe,” Jack said. “I don’t need to ask if you’re hungry.”
J.P. Saucier and his chocolate Lab Lucky hurried through the door as Chief said, “I stay hungry.”
“Come see,” J.P. said. “You’re not going to believe this.”
Chief and Jack joined him and peered out the open door.
J.P. was six feet tall with dark hair and eyes. He had the good looks of a movie star and the self-confidence to go with it. He’d spent over twenty years as a deputy with the police department and had wanted to retire for years and start a dog training academy. When his captain fired him, he had no further reasons to procrastinate.
A steady sheet of rain almost masked the procession of trucks, vans, semis, and R.V.s crossing the short bridge from mainland Louisiana to the sandy beaches of Oyster Island.
“What the hell!” Jack said.
“Looks like they’re headed for the Majestic,” J.P. said.
The Majestic Hotel & Casino was the giant, multistoried Prohibition Era resort once owned by rum-running gangsters. Though mostly forgotten, the magnificent over-water structure was once the destination spot for people worldwide who liked to drink and gamble. It had lain abandoned for decades, the home of ghosts and forgotten memories.
“Looks like a traveling circus,” Chief said. “Wonder why they’re here.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” J.P. said. “I missed you boys last night. Where were you?”
“Went to New Orleans to eat and watch the naked ladies,” Jack said.
“You went to town and didn’t invite me?” J.P. said.
“We decided to head up to the French Quarter on a whim,” Chief said. “We waited till almost dark for you. When you didn’t show, we went without you.”
“I have a cell phone. You could have called me,” J.P. said.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “It was on a whim, just like Chief said. We didn’t think you were coming back to the island last night, and we were right.”
“No problem,” J.P. said. “Next time I visit Pauline’s, I’ll go alone.”
Pauline ran a house of prostitution at a large truck stop on the highway to Chalmette. Jack and Chief stared at the floor when Odette and Vixen came out of the bathroom clad only in bath towels. Their hair was still wet, and they were giggling.
“You boys have something else to tell me?” J.P. said.
“Long story,” Jack said. “We’ll explain later.”
“Uh-huh!” J.P. said. “What else is happening around here I don’t know about?”
“Nothing,” Chief said. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
Jack poured coffee into a mug leaving enough room for a healthy slug of Dominican rum.
“Have some coffee and calm your nerves. The only thing we got out of the ordinary last night was a billy club to Chief’s head. You can still see the bump. Vixen was dancing at Rockie’s.”
“She went into a trance and levitated ten feet above the stage. When she fell, she dumped over beer glasses and half a dozen pitchers of beer,” Chief said. “She soaked everyone at the pussy bar.”
“A big ugly bouncer carted her to the backdoor and dropped her on the cement. When Chief intervened, the bouncer cold-cocked him.”
“Vixen is homeless and lived behind the dumpster,” Chief said. “We brought her here because she had nowhere to go.”
“Uh-huh!” J.P. said. “Where does Odette come into this story?”
“Vixen smelled like she hadn’t bathed in a month,” Chief said. “When Odette showed up before you did, she took her into the bathroom to clean her up.”
Hearing her name, Odette said, “Come see.”
J.P., Chief, and Jack gawked when Odette removed Vixen’s towel. She was used to being naked around men, so she didn’t try to cover up.
“Damn, girl!” J.P. said. “Jack and Chief weren’t lying. With all those bruises, I can’t believe you have no broken bones. I can count your ribs. When was the last time you had something to eat?”
“Her bruises are turning yellow, and I nicked her when I shaved her legs,” Odette said.
Odette picked the towel off the floor and used it to wipe away the trickle of blood on Vixen’s leg. Jack, Chief, and J.P. were gawking at Vixen’s bruised and emaciated body when two women hurried out of the rain into the house. One of the women was blond; the other had dark hair.
When the attractive blond saw Odette and three men gawking at a naked woman, her hand went to her mouth, and she said, “What the hell!”
Chapter 3
Vixen grabbed the towel, covering herself as everyone wheeled around to see who had entered the house. They stared into the intense blue eyes of an angry woman. She wasn’t alone. Another woman was looking at J.P., her grin indicating she knew him. She did.
“Is that you, Lilly Bliss?” J.P. said.
Lilly’s open jean jacket displayed her zebra-print tee shirt and exposed belly button, her khaki shorts showing off her tanned legs. She could barely suppress a smile.
“I might have known if I ever encountered a scene like this in Louisiana, John Pierre Saucier would somehow be involved.”
J.P. broke away from the others and hugged the dark-haired woman.
“Miss Lilly, you never fail to catch me with my pants down.”
“Just the way I like it,” she said.
“It’s a long way from L.A. What are you doing on Oyster Island?”
“This lovely woman is Avory Dorean. I’ve written a screenplay for her, and we’re here to film it.”
“Pleased to meet you,” J.P. said.
J.P. grabbed Avory’s reluctant hand and shook it.”
“Avory is directing Monsters and Angels. We intend to shoot as much of the movie as possible here on location,” Lilly said.
Avory’s flowing azure gown and Gucci pumps seemed more suitable for a power luncheon at L.A.’s Polo Lounge than Jack Weisinski little house on a Louisiana barrier island. Her long blond hair draped her shoulders, the blue dress framing her impressive cleavage. J.P. noticed. She had yet to smile.
Avory glanced at Lilly and said, “How do you know Mr. Saucier?”
“We survived a Cat 4 hurricane together on an island not far from here,” Lilly said. “It doesn’t get much more intimate than that.”
“Take your word for it,” Avory said. “Which one of you is Jack Wiesinski?”
Jack stepped forward and said, “How can I help you?”
“I need the keys to the Majestic,” she said.
“Something I no longer have,” Jack said.
“You work for Mr. Castellano, don’t you?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t. Mr. Castellano fired me with a text message. I gave the keys to the new owner.”
“Mr. Castellano is the owner of the Majestic,” Avory said.
“Maybe yes and maybe no,” Jack said. “I believe Grogan La Tortue owns the Majestic.”
Chief stepped forward when Avory asked, “How can I find Mr. La Tortue?”
“Call me Chief,” he said.
“We’re here to film a movie and couldn’t care less who owns the Majestic. Do you have the keys, Mr. La Tortue?” Avory asked.
“Ownership of this island, including the Majestic, is being litigated. My lawyer, Mr. Eddie Toledo, has the keys.”
“Where can I find Mr. Toledo?” Avory asked.
“He just drove up outside,” J.P. said.
Eddie slammed the door to his Porsche 911 and hurried through the rain into Jack’s house. Dressed in a pink seersucker suit, blue tie, and pink socks, he looked like anything except a conservative Louisiana lawyer. His roving eyes quickly focused on Avory’s cleavage.
“Am I missing something?” he said.
“I’m Avory Dorean. We’re here to make a movie with most scenes filmed in and around the Majestic. We’re on the clock, and I need the keys.”
“The ownership of Oyster Island and the Majestic Hotel & Casino is in question,” Eddie said. “The case is presently in District Court in Chalmette.”
“Then we have a problem,” Avory said.
“What’s your problem?” Eddie said.
“We paid Mr. Castellano a hundred thousand dollars for the right to film on Oyster Island.”
Eddie grinned. “You can kiss your money goodbye,” he said.
“Unacceptable,” Avory said.
“Maybe we can work something out,” Eddie said.
“Like what?” Avory said.
“You paid Mr. Castellano for the right to film a movie on Oyster Island. Pay Mr. La Tortue a hundred grand, and we’ll grant you the rights to begin filming.”
“Highway robbery,” Avory said. “You don’t even own the island. How can you pimp the rights to it?”
Eddie grinned at Avory Dorean’s allusion that the island was a lady of the night.
“You’re a writer, aren’t you?” he said.
“Right now, I’m furious,” she said.
“Take it or leave it,” Eddie said.
After huddling with Lilly in the corner of Jack’s house, Avory called someone on her cell phone. When the conversation ended, she and Lilly approached Eddie.
“You have a deal,” she said.
“Not until you wire good funds into Mr. La Tortue’s account, we don’t,” Eddie said.
“We can do that,” Avory said.
Avory made another call and finally smiled when she handed the phone to Chief.
“Give the person on the line your bank’s routing and account numbers. The money will reach your bank shortly.” Avory turned to Lilly and said, “Call Josh. Have him start unloading the trucks and setting up the living quarters.”
“Anybody hungry?” Jack asked.
“Starved,” Lilly Bliss said.
“You can eat later,” Avory said. “We have a job to do.”
“Suit yourself,” Jack said.
“Lilly and I will be staying at the Majestic. Everyone else in the crew has trailers and portable accommodations,” Avory said. “Someone needs to get us situated.”
“I’ll check you in,” Eddie said.
“Can’t someone else do it?” Avory asked. “I’ve had about enough of your arrogance for one day.”
“Sorry if I insulted you,” Eddie said.
“You’re rude,” Avory said. “And your cheap suit suggests you’re a total loser.”
Eddie grinned. “You don’t like seersucker?”
“Maybe on a used car salesman,” Avory said.
Before Eddie could reply, Odette grabbed his wrist.
“I’ll take them to the Majestic and get them situated,” she said. “It’s raining cats and dogs outside, and the top is up on the ATV.”
“The Majestic is undergoing renovation,” Eddie said. “We don’t have house cleaning and room service yet,” Eddie said.
“Yes, you do,” Odette said. “This is Vixen. She needs a job and a place to stay.”
Vixen was almost as tall as Eddie. Odette had found her a pair of clean shorts and a tee shirt.
“You’re hired,” Eddie said. “We’ll discuss salary and benefits later.”
“I have a dog,” Vixen said.
“No problem,” Eddie said. “I love dogs.”
“Come with me, ladies,” Odette said.
Vixen scooped up Bella and followed Avory and Lilly out the door. Bella whined and jumped out of her arms, quickly returning to the doggy bed by the fire. The storm had intensified, rain pouring from the overhang of the covered walkway. Odette tugged Vixen’s arm.
“She’ll be waiting for you when we return,” Odette said.
“Damn it!” Avory said. “I was planning to start filming today.”
“Have the cameramen film the storm,” Lilly said. “We can use the footage. Relax.”
“Hope you like the Majestic,” Odette said. “Eddie is the only human who has lived there in decades.”
“As opposed to?” Avory asked.
“Ghosts, vampires, you name it,” Odette said.
“I’ve never known an attorney who wears pink seersucker,” Avory said.
“He is one good-looking man,” Lilly said. “I could tell he had eyes for you.”
“He wasn’t looking at my eyes,” Avory said. “What kind of lawyer is he if he’s living on a practically uninhabited island in the middle of nowhere?”
“A great one. Eddie has never lost a case,” Odette said.
“Probably because no one has ever hired him,” Avory said.
“He’s one sexy hunk of a man,” Lilly said. “I’d sleep with him.”
“Hell, Lilly, you’d sleep with any man with a pulse,” Avory said.
“He had my pulse pounding,” Lilly said.
Thunder shook the little vehicle as Odette headed down the sandy hill from the lighthouse. Lightning flashed across the sky as Odette parked beside the wooden walkway leading over the water to the Majestic. Odette handed them sheets of plastic.
“Drape these over your heads,” she said. “Eddie hasn’t installed a covered walkway as yet.”
The pontoon walkway sounded hollow as the four women hurried through the rain to the old hotel and casino entrance. Odette fumbled with the cranky old lock for a moment before it opened with a swoosh of stale air.
“Kind of creepy if you ask me,” Lilly said.
“Wait’ll tonight,” Odette said.
“Maybe we should stay in the R.V.,” Lilly said.
“If you like,” Avory said. “This place is a perfect inspiration. I’m staying here.”
Odette led them through the casino and restaurant. Even in the muted light, the surroundings were regal.
“The hotel hasn’t changed since Prohibition,” Odette said. “There are no elevators or modern conveniences.”
“Perfect,” Avory said. “I like it just the way it is.”
“Hell, girl,” Lilly said. We may as well send our set crew home. We don’t need to change a thing.”
“It’s like we’ve entered a time capsule,” Avory said.
“The place hasn’t changed much since the owners abandoned it,” Odette said. “It has three floors. The ones with the best views are on the third floor, though there’s no elevator.”
“Great,” Lilly said. “I need the exercise.”
“Rooms on the top floor have access to the deck on the roof.”
“I’m in,” Avory said. “Lead the way.”
Vixen had yet to speak as she followed Avory and Lilly up the narrow staircase. They were out of breath when they reached the third floor of the Majestic.
“Only the richest customers stayed in these rooms. They are large and have magnificent views of the Gulf of Mexico.”
“What’s the deal with the little room?” Lilly asked.
“A rape gang kidnapped the daughter of the lighthouse keepers and kept her there to service their most perverted clientele,” Odette said. “She was barely fifteen.”
Avory’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my God! What happened to her?”
“She was never allowed to leave the room. Sort of like a breeding cage at a puppy mill.”
“I hate that analogy,” Avory said.
“A vampire infected her. A young man took care of her, and they were in love,” Odette said.
“And?” Lilly asked.
“If you’re afraid of ghosts, you might not want to hear,” Odette said.
“Don’t you dare keep us in suspense,” Lilly said.
Stale air met them when Odette opened the door to the fourth room on the third floor. The covers on the little bed dominating the space were unmade.
“Laurel and Christopher were murdered by the mob who enslaved Laurel?”
“Please explain,” Lilly said.
“Christopher was an escaped convict hired by the hotel owners to feed and care for Laurel when she wasn’t working. He killed a man who was abusing her.”
“What about Laurel?” Avory asked.
“She and Christopher were vampires,” Odette said. “They were asleep when they died. Paula and I found their skeletons locked in an embrace with stakes pounded through their chests. Vampires can’t cross over, so they were confined to this room forever.”
Though Vixen hadn’t spoken, she’d begun to cry.
“Where are the bones?” Lilly asked.
“My friend, Paula, is a traiteur, a Cajun witch. We gathered the bones in a pillowcase and took them to the beach, where we performed a consecrating ceremony. It purged the Majestic of evil spirits and sent Christopher to heaven.”
“Why didn’t Laurel cross over?” Avory asked.
“She chose to remain at the Majestic. She roams the halls and rooms at night. You’ll see her,” Odette said.
“And Christopher?” Lilly said.
“He’s a guardian angel and has saved Paula and me more than once,” Odette said.
“You’re making this shit up,” Avory said.
Odette’s hair moved in the muted light when she shook her head.
“Want a room on the first or second floor?” she asked.
“Third floor,” Avory said.
“Then you’ll see Laurel before you leave. Protect your neck when she’s around.”
Avory was grinning. “You’re so full of shit! I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
“You’ll believe before you leave here,” Odette said.
“This place is a bit too morbid,” Avory said. “Maybe you should show us our rooms.”
“Follow me, ladies,” Odette said.
Odette opened the first door and handed the key to Avory. Vixen ducked into the hall, returning with a mop and broom she’d found in a storage closet. Dust cloths covered the furniture, and the curtains to the windows overlooking the Gulf of Mexico were closed.
“I will clean the room,” she said.
“Here’s the key to the room next door,” Odette said. “After I take these two ladies downstairs and fix them something to eat, I’ll help you.”
“No need,” Vixen said. “Both rooms will be spotless when you return.”
“You sure?” Odette said.
No comments:
Post a Comment