Not Dead Enough Read online

  “No clue,” I said. “Would there be any reason for them to be here? Anything to do with what’s going on?”

  “No…but I don’t know. I’d not pick Salve or Hannah as the ones to anger Ellis.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s hard to explain…but you can see it in their eyes, their face. They hide it from the men, but you can tell who wants to go along and who has to go along.”

  “Like you?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I toe the line, but I don’t like it. As a teenager I used to get the shit slapped out of me. I learned…to be respectful enough to not get hit. The last time…I did it and Andrea got punished. They confused us.”

  “She resent you for that?”

  “I said she should have told them. But she said it wasn’t too bad—just her head being held underwater in the pool—and she was happy to have fooled them. She called it an experiment. If they were that close and couldn’t tell us apart, it meant we could trade places. I think that was when I became careful. One thing to bring it on myself, another to bring it on her when she didn’t deserve it.”

  “Did you ever fool them? Deliberately confuse them?”

  “Yes, we actually got good at it. We’d plan things. We’d go out around the same time, then one of us would come in at the appointed time, then change clothes, sneak out the window, and come in again to make it look like we both had returned. It’s how we got away with seeing girls. Act like we were going out together and then came back together while one of us stayed out all night. The amazing thing is we never got caught.”

  “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “Or they were pretty stupid. Two left. Two came back. No one looked beyond that.”

  “Did Donnie tell you how long you’re to stay in the hotel?” I asked.

  “He said a day or two. But that was when he dropped me off. When he called just now, he told me not to leave and threatened they would check my phone.”

  “Good thing we got you another phone. If you want to go out, you can just leave the family phone in your room.”

  “That’s an idea. Be nice if there was someplace I wanted to go.”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I called you,” she said. “This isn’t your problem.”

  “No, it’s not. But it’s okay. I can listen. You’re missing Andrea right now. I’m not a replacement or even a substitute, just a live human. I would like it if you would call and let me know what’s going on. If you have to camp out, you can hide with me in New Orleans.” In my lovely airport hotel.

  “Thanks. Probably not far enough. I think they’re doing stuff there.”

  “Stuff?”

  “The usual criminal stuff.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “A few beers and they get loud. Heard them talking about expanding to Houston. And one—oh, you know him, your escort—said he’d hate to give up the girls in the French Quarter.”

  That would explain why Junior Boy was here and why he was consorting with Druggie. It didn’t explain why I’d seen Salve with him.

  “So if any of the women—or anyone—was trying to get away—they’re not likely to come to New Orleans?” I hoped she wouldn’t wonder at my questions.

  “Not as a final destination, that’s for sure. Too bad, it’s one of my favorite cities. Andrea and I used to go there as often as we could. Neither of us can sing, but she liked to constantly prove it with karaoke. Well, now I’m back to me and it’s late.”

  “Later where you are.” I pointed out our different time zones.

  “Yes, but I’m not a working girl. I can sleep in tomorrow. There’s not much else for me to do.”

  “True,” I said. “But call me when you can. Let me know what’s going on.”

  “I will. You sleep well.”

  “Hey, weird question. Do you know anyone named Holly Farmer?”

  “Holly Farmer? Someone really named their kid that?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I don’t. Good thing. I’d probably snigger every time I heard her name. Why?”

  “Long shot. Saw her here in Atlanta.”

  “It’s a big city? She in the business?”

  “No, a social worker.”

  “Don’t know too many of them. That’s just so weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was an ongoing joke between me and Andrea. We met a man named Al Pine and after that we’d come up with names like that. Sandy Beach. Pearl Ring. Dyna Mite. Rumor Mills. But, no, I don’t know a Holly Farmer. We got extra points if it was a real name. Maybe someday I can tell that one to Andrea.”

  We said good-bye.

  I finished my daiquiri.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The problem with airport hotels is that some people need to wake up and leave long before the sun has left Australia. And they seem too sleep deprived to remember how to shut a door quietly.

  I looked at the clock and put a pillow over my head. Sheer willpower got me through another hour of sleep.

  Then a long shower—I wasn’t paying the water bill—and dressed enough to go downstairs for breakfast.

  Ellis had moved his accounts. That was my bet on why Anmar was sent away. He wanted as few people around to see as possible. My next bet was that all did not go as planned. Or at least as Ellis had planned. That was the reason for Donnie’s panicked call to Anmar to make sure she was still in her room.

  Oh, to be a rat running around the Brande house this morning.

  This might be good news for both me and Karen. If the Brande rebels had succeeded, they would be focused on finding the accounts and not bothering us.

  I had a second cup of coffee.

  My phone rang.

  Anmar’s Atlanta number. I answered and got up to go back to my room.

  “Hey, sorry for the early-morning call after the late-night call,” she said.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I wanted to warn you. The Brandes are heading to New Orleans.”

  “How do you know this?” I asked, getting on the elevator, ignoring the family of ten asking me to hold the door while they crammed in and held up the elevator for another ten minutes as they jostled with their luggage. I had watched them take that amount of time crossing the lobby.

  “I ran into Halley, my cousin, also stuck here, in the lobby. She was in a chatty mood. Told me Ellis lost control of the accounts and there was a rumor they were heading to New Orleans. She said five SUVs sped out in the early morning hours, heading that way.”

  “Did she say why they think it’s New Orleans? And who it might be?”

  “I asked. She wasn’t that chatty. Or her sources weren’t as good as she hinted.”

  “Would she be in a position to know?”

  “She might. We bonded as queer kids, but she’s younger, twenties. She’s more, well, interested in the family business than Andrea and I ever were. She’s done some stuff, mostly courier to the beaches. But I think Ellis has finally clued in that she’s smart and Junior Boy—your name for him is perfect—isn’t. I think she has ambitions to be the first major female mob boss.”

  “Is that likely in your family?” I keyed the door into my room and its privacy.

  “Delusional, I’d say. But she’s not asking me. Yeah, she’s smarter than they are, but I can’t see any Brande man taking orders from a woman. Fifty years too early. If ever.”

  “What did she say exactly?”

  “That Ellis and Elbert had fucked up—she likes to use ‘fucked’ a lot, to prove she’s one of the boys, especially when there are people around to be shocked like a hotel lobby—and someone snatched all the account info. But the snatchers weren’t so smart either. They dropped an address.”

  “That sounds like everyone is trying to outstupid everyone else.” I sat at the desk, bracing my phone between my shoulder and ear so I could get a paper and pen to take notes.

  “Yeah, I can see why it made Halley gleefu
l, it proves how smart she is. She even said that—that she’d never be this stupid. But the point of my call is they are heading to New Orleans and I wanted to warn you. If you see a convoy of big black and gray SUVs, head the other way.”

  “New Orleans isn’t the sprawl of Atlanta, but it’s still probably big enough we’re unlikely to cross paths.”

  “I know,” she said quickly. “I’m just…I know it’s paranoid. But I’ve lost Andrea and…I don’t want anyone else hurt. I think there’s going to be a bloodbath in the family, seething resentments of years’ standing with a finger on the trigger. I feel helpless and stupid here. This is what I can do, at least give you a warning you probably don’t need.”

  “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. I have friends who are in the police department. I can call them to be on the lookout.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “That feels like ratting.”

  “Better to let them shoot it out?”

  A wavering breath. She was emotionally on edge. “You’re right. Jail is better than dead. It might be the best place for most of them.”

  “It might free you,” I pointed out.

  “Unless I join them. Accessory, all that. No, I didn’t do anything. But I can’t claim innocence either.”

  “Did she tell you the address?” I asked. Joanne would find that helpful information.

  “Yes, but we were in the lobby and she rattled it off. Something with a C?”

  “Claiborne? Carrollton?” I named two major streets.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Calhoun? St. Claude?”

  “No…not familiar.”

  I couldn’t think of any more C streets. I’d have to look at a map. “Anything else? Time frame?”

  “Afternoon, around three, Halley said.”

  “So the rebel Brandes got the accounts and accidentally left an address and time for their gang to meet up?” I said.

  Anmar was silent for a second. “You think they planned it?”

  “It’s really stupid or really smart,” I said.

  “But why?”

  “Because they’re on a plane to Paris and the rest of the Brandes are driving to New Orleans.”

  “They may be stupid but not that stupid. Airport is the first place they look. They sent six guys there to cover the ticket counters. According to Halley, Ellis moved the accounts around midnight. So late enough at night few flights were leaving.”

  “Halley knows a lot about this.”

  “Junior Boy talks to her, and he thinks he’s next in line. I know he runs things by her, mostly to steal her ideas and pretend he thought of it. Besides, she’s been relegated to female purgatory, stuck here in the hotel with me.”

  “Unless it’s just her phone in the hotel,” I pointed out.

  “She’s clearly not in New Orleans. Or on the road to anywhere else, if I saw her just a few minutes ago in the lobby,” Anmar pointed out.

  “It just sounds—”

  “Crazy? Welcome to my family.”

  “Anything else you can tell me?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  Oh, now she finally started to wonder at my questions. “To pass on to my police friends. The more they know, the more they can do to stop it.”

  “Something C, around three. Convoy of Brande men heading there. Junior Boy is already there. Oh, but Ellis didn’t tell him yet, because he’s worried Junior Boy will blab. They’ll call him when they get to town.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Said her contact wanted to make sure no one else called him either.”

  “Ellis thinks he might be behind it?”

  “Maybe,” Anmar said. “He’s paranoid as shit now. No one is talking to anyone, except we’re all talking but aren’t supposed to be. But I doubt he’s organized or smart enough.” Then she said, “Oh, shit, my other phone is ringing. Uncle Donnie.”

  “Call me if you learn more.”

  She hung up.

  I looked at my scribbled notes, then tried to order them. Rebel Brandes had ambushed Ellis at around midnight and gotten the account briefcase. Ellis seemed to have relied on stealth, not strength, probably only one or two people with him. He and Uncle Donnie wouldn’t make a formidable team. Rebel Brandes had maneuvered him into moving the accounts, so they were ready. Once the “nonessential personnel” were sent away, they knew it would be soon. All they needed to do was wait. The usual, surprise and ski masks. They jump Ellis right outside his house. Smash and grab. Get the briefcase with the account info. It could be fairly compact, a pile of paper, all in one attaché.

  They were either stupid—always possible with the Brandes—and accidentally dropped a piece of paper with the rendezvous location and time. Or it was a setup, meant to decoy the Main Brandes to look where the Rebel Brandes were not.

  Salve? Was this her?

  Or was Junior Boy trying to take over?

  Could there be multiple factions of Rebel Brandes?

  My head hurt.

  It bothered me that New Orleans was part of the plan. If the address was an empty lot, what were the chances Ellis would come after me and/or Karen?

  Damn, damn, damn. Like Anmar, I felt trapped here.

  Okay, call Joanne.

  A phone seemed such a small, powerless tool.

  Voice mail.

  While I left a message for her, a text came in.

  Anmar. Donnie checking on me. I asked what was going on and he told me to stay here and hung up.

  I started to text her back, but my phone rang.

  Joanne.

  I gave her the latest update.

  “Oh, hell,” was her response. “Do you know how many C roads there are in this city?”

  “Can’t say I’ve counted them.”

  “Way too many. About half the uptown/downtown streets are Cs.” She named the ones I already had, then added, “St. Charles, Canal, Camp, Clara, Carondelet, Constance, Coliseum, Chestnut, Convention Center, Chartres.”

  “Tell me you’re looking at a map and don’t have all the streets memorized in alphabetical order.”

  “I am looking at a map. These are the major ones in Orleans Parish. Add in smaller ones, the suburbs, the Westbank—a lot. Too many for us to have any chance of patrolling. Except blind luck.”

  “A convoy of black and gray gas guzzlers.”

  “Every day. People like their big vehicles.” She added, “You did the right thing to call, and I’d prefer the info to nothing. Just being real.”

  “Reality checks are always fun,” I said.

  “You need to stay out of this,” Joanne admonished me.

  “I’m encased at a hotel by the airport. I’ll see if I can get it narrowed down any more.”

  “That would be helpful. Just stay where you are while you do it.” She hung up.

  I texted Anmar. Thanks for the update. St. Charles or Camp?

  I looked at my watch. Just coming up to ten a.m.

  The Brande convoy was probably here by now. It’s about seven hours, less if you speed and skimp on the bathroom breaks. They probably left about two a.m. or so, giving Ellis enough time to gather the troops. Probably napping now.

  Or cleaning their guns.

  The location is a decoy. An empty lot. What would they do next? I didn’t see them giving up and going home. Search for me? Karen?

  What if it was real? A shootout between the Rebel Brandes and the Main Brandes? That would be messy in a populated area. I carry a gun but try my best not to use it. People aren’t stable targets, they run, they weave, they duck. A bullet keeps going whether it hits its intended target or not. Too many people shot by bullets not aimed at them.

  I dialed Salve. No answer. No option to leave a message.

  “Damn,” I muttered.

  If the site was real, they wouldn’t escape. I was, I admitted, rooting for the Brande women. For them to con the mob, get the loot, and get away.

  I didn’t want them shot up.
/>   Nor did I want them to disappear without a trace, leaving only me and Karen with any connection to them.

  Anmar texted me back. Sorry, they don’t sound like it.

  I called the hospital to check on Sharon and Margaret and was connected to their room. Margaret answered. They were okay, but the doctor was there and she couldn’t talk.

  I plugged in my phone. It was getting a workout today.

  Joanne told me to stay here, but the last thing I wanted to do was be stuck out in a hotel listening to the planes roaring overhead.

  I texted Anmar again. Clara, Carondelet?

  Then I stared at my phone, willing it to give me information. Narrow the street down. Another clue from Sharon or Margaret.

  I paced the room. There are many things I do well. Waiting is not one of them.

  A text. Anmar. No. Ordered to go to brunch with Aunt Vera—also here at hotel. Can’t show this phone.

  Damn.

  I texted back, Canal, Camp, Constance, Coliseum, Chestnut, Convention Center, Chartres? Text back when you can.

  Again, waiting. How long can brunch take?

  Longer than I wanted to wait.

  My phone rang. It almost jerked out of my hand since it was still attached to its cord.

  Salve.

  “You called me?” she said.

  “You stole the account info from Ellis?” I asked.

  “What? Where did you hear that?”

  “It’s not important,” I replied. I was not going to tell her in any case. “A piece of paper with an address and a time was dropped during the heist.”

  “Wait. What? Are you sure?”

  “I wasn’t there, but a large group of the Brande men are here—or will be soon. They think it’s real, not a decoy meant to misdirect them.”

  “How could anyone be that stupid?” she said under her breath as if not talking to me at all.

  “Did you intend for them to find out? Or is it a mistake?” I asked.

  “We thought we had gotten away. We just wanted enough money to escape, that’s all. We are going to meet and divide things among us. Then go our own ways.”

  “Probably not a good idea to meet at the planned location,” I said. “That does pose a problem for me. If Ellis gets there and finds nothing, he’s likely to come after me and Karen Holloway as a desperate attempt to get information.”