Chapter 5:
Tristan watched her go. She was more than he'd anticipated and not like her sister at all.
He had his cell phone out and the number punched. As she left the building with Madeline, he pressed the button to make the call.
"Is it done then?" his grandfather demanded over a static filled line.
"For the moment." Tristan took care not to lose his cover of darkness. Rory owned a sporty, black car, similar to both of her sisters', and she had the sexiest walk of any woman in New Orleans.
"Are you napping, Detective Dugrey?"
"Observing. How'd you know it was me?"
"Who else would call so late? You understand your job?"
Tristan's gaze hardened. "I only need to be told once. Are you sure this is how you want it to be? It's more complicated than you thought."
"There we agree," his grandfather said. "But more complicated doesn't mean we can walk away. You made me a promise, and I mean to hold you to it."
"I'll keep my word." Tristan followed Rory's movements as she disengaged her alarm. "They're leaving now, probably to pick up their other sister."
"You sound displeased. You should be happy."
"Why, because Jason Stiles is dead? I'm supposed to extract justice from death, not applaud it."
"We both know what kind of snake Jason Stiles was while he lived. Now he's gone, and I need your help, family obligation. Don't disappoint me."
"Have I ever?"
"In important ways, no. Just remember what's at stake here, and if you have to, lock your conscience away. It'll only be a burden to you in this case."
This case, Tristan thought, as he disconnected. This skewed and twisted case into which he had plunged with next to no warning.
Like it or not, however, he was in deep and stuck there. Whether that would prove to be good or bad depended entirely on how the victim's murder was viewed.
Meanwhile…
"Stop at Lorelai's Club," Madeline pleaded with Rory. "She's part of our lives. We should tell her what's happening."
"I didn't drink enough if I'm hearing this." From the back, Louise used her knee to poke Madeline's seat. "Although she conveniently forgot to mention it to us, Lorelai was married to Jason Stiles. She knows he's dead. The rest of it has nothing to do with her."
"Why do you hate her so much? Because she runs a nightclub?"
"No, because a nightclub's just a polite name for the business she really runs."
Non-confrontational by nature, Madeline appealed to Rory. "Can you talk to her, please? Oh, and turn left here."
Rory fought this battle with herself back at the police station. "Ten minutes, Louise," she said. "You can wait in the car." Which would be the last thing Louise would do.
Lorelai's club, called Nona, was situated on the fringe of Vieux Carre. The sign over the door didn't flash or shine so it didn't appeal to the masses. That was exactly how Lorelai wanted it. Her other business ventures-and she had more than a few, Rory discovered over the years-did that. Nona was understated and personal. It was also the place where Lorelai could be found six nights out of seven.
"I still haven't figured out how someone as cool as Dolores could have given birth to such a tarantula," Louise muttered. "Too bad the family curse didn't strike Lorelai."
"It couldn't, she wasn't the oldest," Madeline reminded. "Lorelai's brother died from the curse twenty years ago. He drove off a cliff or something."
"Yeah well, Dolores has a few things to answer for if you ask me." Louise folded her arms.
"Like what?"
Rory glanced in the rearview mirror for the fifth time in two minutes and saw Louise roll her eyes. "Like why she never mentioned that Lorelai's ex-husband…"
"Our biological father," Louise inserted.
"Was alive." Rory finished. "Lorelai lied, Maddy, and Dolores went along with her."
But Madeline was always ready to defend other people. "Of course Lorelai lied. You would have to, in her position. You didn't meet Jason. He was…awful."
It was a huge comment coming from Madeline.
Bright headlights in the mirror diverted Rory's attention. She noticed a faint blue tinge around the edges. Was someone following them? Out loud, she asked "Awful how? Was he obnoxious, abrasive, sloppy, rude?"
"He wasn't sloppy." Madeline indicated the curb lane. "There's a parking spot. He was obnoxious and rude, and I didn't like him at all. I'm sure you heard, I met him twice."
Rory wedged her car between two monster SUVs. "Why a second meeting if he was so bad?"
"Because after our first disastrous outing last Wednesday, I figured I must have misjudged him. No one could be that horrible. So I called and asked if we could have dinner somewhere. I wanted to try again."
"But you hadn't misjudged him."
"If I did it was on the generous side." Madeline's shoulders twitched. "I don't want to go into detail. Just believe me when I say he had a mean tongue."
"Ah, so that's why he hooked up with Lorelai. Like seeks out like." Louise made a face as she read the sign above the door. "I hate this place, but at least Mommy Dearest keeps a well-stocked bar. Defend her all you like, Maddy, I still have a bone to pick with…" She stopped, frowned and backtracked. "Wait a minute, he was rich right? Rory, didn't I tell you earlier that Jason Stiles was loaded?"
"You said big-time business man, Lisa said horrible." Rory used her remote to lock the car doors. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you."
"He might have left us something in his will." Louise persisted. "You know, a conscience thing."
Madeline shook her head. "Jason didn't have a conscience, Louise. There won't be any guilt money."
"Oh, well, screw him then. Or sue him if the opportunity arises." Louise poked the front door open with her fingertips. "I smell raspberries."
Rory looked up. The rain clouds had moved downriver, but still no stars shone overhead. The air felt heavy, suffocating. Cars rolled past on Canal even this late. She heard a saxophone down the street and the repeated zot of someone's bug zapper.
Everything seemed normal. So why, she wondered, couldn't she shake the image of those blue tinted headlights in her rearview mirror-or the face of a cop who preferred shadow to light?
"Losing it." She decided and followed her sisters inside. "Hey Michel."
"Hello." Lorelai's snippy, French assistant waved an annoyed hand to the rear of the building. "She's in her office if you're looking."
"Bring Bourbon." Louise called over her shoulder.
Michel ignored her and turned to Rory. "Bad day? Please feel free not to tell me about it."
"Okay day, not great night." She squinted through palm fronds, people and tables to a trio of women on a small raised stage. "Is it blues week?"
"That awful whining they call music indeed gives me the blues. And they have a reggae band booked tomorrow." Michel's permanent scowl seemed to deepen. "Thanks heavens it is winding down now. Tell your chippy sister that Lorelai keeps a good bar stocked upstairs."
Rory grinned. "Louise doesn't really have a chip on her shoulder, Michel. She took a method acting course last year and hasn't realized it's over yet."
Michel glared, but moved on. Rory headed for the stairwell.
Lorelai's preference ran to freeze-dried palms, rattan furniture, and dim lighting. Blues music drifted out of the private rooms, and the air did in fact smell like raspberries.
Because she had done her first filling at seven-thirty that morning, Rory's head felt as fuzzy as the lights. She crossed, she reflected, into that weird realm between consciousness and sleep.
The wall beside her was lined with oil paintings, most of them abstract, and every one as dark and mysterious as Tristan Dugrey.
"Hell." With a sigh, Rory started up.
Sorry about the delay guys. I got wrapped up in school work, but report cards are in, so everything should even out from here. Enjoy and please review.