Chapter 11

They couldn't help but sleep in the next morning, so late that they just got coffee instead of breakfast. They went to the train station to arrange for their car to be attached to the train to Chicago the next day, then headed for the shops on Royal near the cathedral, to buy some jewelry for their mother and sister, and perhaps a good stick pin for Heath. It was a beautiful morning and they shopped without a care, until they went into one shop where the woman tending the store took one look at Jarrod - and slapped him across the face.

"Hey – " Nick started, and then at once he and Jarrod both remembered they were not going to correct anyone who thought Jarrod was Jack Darby, at least not yet.

"Get out!" the woman growled. "How dare you show your face in here! Get out!"

They got out. "I hope her voice didn't carry," Jarrod said as he rubbed his cheek and they moved on to another shop.

"I was hoping we were through with that," Nick said.

"What do you mean, 'we'? Nobody's slapped you yet – " Then Jarrod thought about the time his brother was out on his own. "Have they?"

Nick laughed, said, "I'll never tell," and they went into another shop.

They found fleur-de-lis earrings for their mother and sister, and a fleur-de-lis stick pin for Heath, all in gold, that made Nick smile remembering Caroline.. Nick liked them so much he bought a stick pin for himself. Then he and Jarrod split the small packages up and pocketed them, and they headed for La Rue for lunch.

Jarrod walked through the door first and the barmaid who had hit him before started for him, but then she saw Nick and stopped. Mose, the big black man who protected this place, came forward. He didn't smile, but he said, "Afternoon, gentlemen. Let me show you to a table."

As he took them to a spot near the window, Jarrod asked, "Is Monsier LaValle around today?"

"In the back," Muse said. "I'll tell him you're here."

"Thank you," Jarrod said as he and Nick sat down. The barmaid took their drink order, and then LaValle appeared from the back room.

Smiling, the owner sat down with them. Nick and Jarrod sat facing each other, the window beside them, and LaValle sat down between them, facing the window. Which made both Nick and Jarrod a bit nervous.

"Welcome back, gentlemen," LaValle said. "I hope you've had a good stay in New Orleans."

"It's been interesting," Nick said.

Jarrod said, "Are you sure you should be showing your face through the window? You're an easy target."

"Ah, yes," LaValle said. "DuMont told me you knew all about the little sting he and I have going against a certain hit man."

"I wouldn't take it too lightly," Jarrod said.

LaValle pointed out the window, across the narrow street to a building that had no windows facing them. "For anyone to shoot me, he'd have to walk up to this window to do it," LaValle said. "Too many people and too much traffic to be at street level over there. And over here, I've got a police presence on the corner that any self-respecting hit man would spot right away. Nobody's going to kill me here. He'll get me on my way out tonight if he's going to get me at all." He looked at Jarrod. "I hear you delivered the payment, as Jack Darby."

Jarrod nodded. "And got a fist in my face for my efforts."

LaValle looked closely at Jarrod and saw only a small cut and bruise on the side of his cheek. "That doesn't look very bad."

"It hasn't ruined my stay," Jarrod said.

Nick and Jarrod ordered lunch, and then LaValle asked, "How much longer are you going to be in town?"

"Leaving tomorrow," Jarrod said. "My business is complete, and we have a long way home."

"I'm sorry if my plans put a damper on yours," LaValle said. "I'd have told you about them the other day, but it never occurred to me you'd get caught up in them, at least not the way you have."

"I don't think it occurred to anyone that Darby would bail," Nick said.

"Well, you came to our rescue," LaValle said. "We'd have lost the whole scam if you hadn't turned up when you did. Lunch is on me, gentlemen – an inadequate thank you."

"Perhaps you should save the thank you until we're sure you're going to survive this," Jarrod said.

LaValle stood up. "I'll survive it. Not a doubt in my mind."

As he left, Jarrod and Nick looked at each other, with plenty of doubt in their minds. "At least he's alive for now," Nick said.

Jarrod nodded. "Let's just hope we're not reading about him in the morning papers."

XXXXXXX

After a delightful lunch, Jarrod and Nick got up, planning to drop their purchases off at the hotel safe and then head for the fairgrounds and afternoon horse racing. Just before they started for the front door, Jarrod said, "Just a second – we ought to thank Monsieur LaValle for lunch."

Mose overheard him. "I will get him from the office for you."

But there were customers coming in. Jarrod said, "We can just duck in and thank him – is that the office, back that little hallway?"

"Yes, knock first," Mose said.

Jarrod and Nick headed back the hallway. There were only three doors back there, one leading out to the back alley, one leading to the kitchen and the last one they figured was the office. Nick knocked.

Someone blasted out the door and sent Nick smashing back against the far wall of the little hallway. Before he or Jarrod could react, whoever it was had dashed for the back door. Nick had twisted his wrist when the door smashed open and was up against the wall, trying to flex it, but his face was full of pain. Jarrod took off after the man who ran out the back door.

Jarrod caught sight of the man turning onto the street at the end of the alley and ran faster, to try to catch up. "Hold it!" he yelled loudly as he got to the street, but the man kept running. Jarrod got a good look at the back of him and at how he moved, and he was sure it was the hit man he had delivered the money to. The man who had bashed him in the face.

Jarrod took off faster, yelling, "Police! Police!" and hoping whoever was supposed to be watching La Rue was hearing him. People on the street were gasping, crying out, trying to get out of the way of the two men running at them. Jarrod put an extra kick in and caught up with the man on another corner, just as a police officer in uniform caught up with them. Jarrod threw himself against the man and carried them both into a wall, but the hit man took the brunt of the bricks, cushioning Jarrod. Jarrod twisted him and punched him in the face – sweet revenge. The man went down.

"What's going on?" the police officer asked, and another man came closer, a man not in uniform but showing a badge.

Jarrod looked at them both. "This man just tried to kill Monsieur LaValle at La Rue. He may have done it."

The uniformed officer pulled the hit man to his feet. "I never saw him," the other policeman said.

Jarrod was trying to catch his breath. He was furious. "You didn't have anyone covering the back," he said. "This guy got in and out and you never saw him."

The two officers took the hit man off, and Jarrod hustled back to La Rue. Dashing in the front door, he saw everyone in the place was excited, standing up, looking toward the back. Mose was back there in the hall, half in the door to the office. Nick was still in the hall, rubbing his wrist.

Jarrod hurried back. "Are you all right?" he asked Nick.

Nick nodded. "Twisted my wrist."

"How about LaValle?"

Nick looked sick. "They're sending for a doctor."

Jarrod moved past Mose and into the office. The barmaid was there, holding a towel against LaValle's head. LaValle was at his desk, slumped down atop it. "How is he?" Jarrod asked quickly.

The barmaid looked up, shaking her head. "I don't know."

"Is he alive?" Jarrod asked.

LaValle groaned and moved a little. "He hit me," he said. "Then there was some noise and he took off."

Jarrod bent beside the man and the barmaid. LaValle lifted his head and put it down again. There was a bad wound on his left temple. "The police have the man," Jarrod said. "It was the hit man. I recognized him."

LaValle began to laugh. "Ha! Good! It worked!"

A doctor carrying a bag came in. Behind him, Nick and Mose blocked the door. Nick was still holding his wrist. Jarrod moved out of the way and lifted the barmaid away by the arm, so that the doctor could get to LaValle. Jarrod thought they could only say it worked if LaValle was going to survive this.

LaValle was still smiling.

Jarrod moved the barmaid toward the door, asking, "Could you take a look at my brother's wrist? He got hurt when that hit man burst through the door."

Nick smiled as the barmaid took his hand and gently began to examine it. "I can have the doctor look at it if you think you need it," she said.

Nick said, "Oh, no, I think your attention will do just fine."

She finally smiled again, at Nick. "We have some things behind the bar. I can wrap it up for you so you won't hurt by moving it around."

"That sounds just wonderful," Nick said.

Jarrod chuckled, then looked down at LaValle behind his desk, sitting up straight now as the doctor tended to the wound on his forehead. It looked like this was going to work out. Jarrod took a deep breath and shivered at the thought of what might have happened if he and Nick hadn't come back to the office just when they did. He followed along as the barmaid took Nick back into the dining room and then toward the bar.

Nick leaned up against the bar, resting his elbow on it as the barmaid took out a box from under the bar. She pulled a roll of cloth bandage out and proceeded to tape Nick's wrist for him. "You're sure it's not broken?" Jarrod asked.

"Naw, it's not broken," Nick said. "A little tape to keep it from twisting anymore and it'll be fine. You all right?"

"I'm fine," Jarrod said, "but I'm afraid our trip to the races is off. We're gonna be talking to the police for a while."

Nick sighed. "Well, a little conversation and a couple of Sazeracs, and LaValle being all right, and it won't be a wasted afternoon. And you can completely give up being Jack Darby now."

"Thank goodness," Jarrod said. "The next slap in the face I get, I'm gonna protest. And if I ever get my hands on Cousin Jack – "

"Temper, Brother Jarrod, temper," Nick said, and he smiled at the barmaid. "We're gonna need those Sazeracs pretty soon."

"You can have all the drinks you want," she said and finished taping Nick's wrist. "And I promise, I'll never slap you again," she said to Jarrod.

The doctor came out after a while, helping LaValle along, saying, "I'm taking Monsieur LaValle to his room. Mose? Where is Mose?"

The big black man had gone back to the front, to try to get the place somewhat back to normal. People had sat down again and were eating, but the buzz kept up. Mose heard his name and came back to the doctor and LaValle.

"Someone will need to stay with Monsieur LaValle for the rest of the day," he said.

"I can do that," the barmaid said. "Two more girls come on in a just a few minutes."

LaValle was fairly steady on his feet. He reached a hand for Jarrod, who took it. LaValle said, "I thank you very much for your efforts, Mr. Barkley – " and he looked at Nick, saying, "And you, too, sir. I hope that wrist is all right."

"It's fine," Nick said. "You have a fine nurse here. I'm sure she'll take good care of you."

"Mose, you're in charge, mind the store," LaValle said to the big black man.

"Yes, sir," Mose said.

LaValle lived only two doors down. The doctor and the barmaid left with him.

Jarrod and Nick stood at the bar, watching them go. Mose moved behind the bar and said, "Did I hear an order for Sazeracs?"

Nick grinned. "I've kind of taken a liking to those."

Jarrod nodded. "Just the cure for a busted afternoon."

Mose said, "Coming right up."