Jack offered to walk Diane back to her room and see her safely inside.
I stood by with my hands crossed in front of my waist, calm and smiling like a nicely mannered Southern girl until they were out of sight, and then I went tearing back to the auxiliary wing like a bat out of hell (which I probably looked like in my long black costume with the stand-up Count Dracula collar). I had to double-time it if I was going to catch Stella before she left for the night.
My timing was just about perfect. She was locking the door as I ran up. She turned in surprise.
"Hey there, girl, what do you have your panties in such a bunch about?"
I stopped and took a minute to catch my breath, thinking it might be time to partake in a little regular exercise. "I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about your client Zachary Jones."
"Oh." She looked skeptical. "Like what?"
I explained what had just happened in the lobby, how Diane Conner had nearly fainted when she spotted Zachary walking through the lobby.
"She freaked out?" she asked.
I nodded. "Big time."
Stella looked at me for a minute as if she might have been considering whether or not talking about her customer was somehow a breach of trust. "I don't know if I should…" she began.
"Oh, come on, Stella. What can it hurt? It's not like you're his lawyer."
"Funny you should say that. Zachary has actually threatened me with his lawyer if word ever gets back to him I was talking about his business. And, after all, he is my client."
"Yes," I said evenly, "but Slim was your friend."
After another long pause, she shrugged and hooked her arm through mine. "Well, come on then. Walk me to my car, and we can talk on the way. I guess it doesn't matter since I've already mentioned it to you before, and I know you're the soul of discretion anyway."
"Sure." I crossed my fingers and asked her what she knew about Zachary Jones and whether or not there'd been a connection between him and Slim Conner.
"Remember. You can't tell anyone you heard this from me. That little geeky bookie is one of the resort's most lucrative customers. Not only does he come to see me nearly every day to cast his chart, sometimes if it's late when we finish up, he'll stay over if there's a room for him. I don't want to lose his business, and neither will Harry or your Cap'n Jack."
My mouth hung open. "How'd you know I call him…?"
She just gave me a mysterious smile.
We walked a few minutes in silence before she began to speak. "I don't know much, but what I do know is that Slim Conner liked to bet on the horses. A lot. And he wasn't good at it. He owed money to Zachary. And he was behind in his payments."
I stopped walking and stared at her. When she realized I'd stopped, she did too. "Stella, if it was enough money for him to go out to Slim and Diane's house and threaten him if Slim didn't pay up, it might have been enough money for Jones to make an example out of Slim so his other customers wouldn't default on their payments as well."
"I don't want to think that about a gorgeous hunk of flesh like Zachary, but who knows what lurks in the hearts of men?" She shrugged dramatically. "But, like I said, I don't know much."
"But that doesn't work out," I said. "Zachary Jones wasn't here last night." I added, "Was he?"
"Not as far as I know, at least not inside at the party where we were," Stella said.
We'd come to the stone wall on the kitchen side of The Mansion that set off the employee parking lot. Stella used her gate key to go in.
Stella lived in a two-bedroom frame house on Fisher Street over in Lafitte, only a hop, skip, and a jump from The Mansion. The house was painted haint blue to keep the evil spirits away, and the living area was lifted up out of flood danger on stilts. She drove her 1965 VW minibus back and forth. Every time I saw it, I marveled she could still get parts for the thing. Considering the minivan and my mama were the same age, the old girl was holding up pretty well—the VW, not my mama, although she was pretty cute too.
The outside of Stella's bus was painted in bright psychedelic colors of green, blue, yellow, and fuchsia with the sun and moon and shooting stars. It sat out under one of the Victorian-style pole lamps in the employee parking lot, looking like it belonged in a Pixar movie and might smile and come to life any second.
"So, whether or not he was highly motivated, if he wasn't here, it wasn't him who killed Papa Noël."
She took my hand and patted it. "Whatever you think, Mel. We all know you're the sleuth around here, but I didn't say it wasn't Zachary who killed Papa Noël, and I didn't say he wasn't here that night. I just said not as far as I know."
She turned before she got into her VW and asked, "You want to come over to the house and get high?"
"Oh, gee," I said. "No thanks, I'm good."
She shrugged, got in, and started the engine. I turned and went back around to the front of The Mansion. A bus was parked out front that looked a lot like the one that had taken the members of The Circle of Ravens out to celebrate the bonfires on the levee, but what was it doing back so soon?
Inside, a uniformed bus driver was talking to Jack and waving his arms around like something exciting was going on.
"You've got to be kidding," Jack said, running his long fingers through his short thick hair. "Just what I frigging needed."
"What is it?"
"The bus driver says the Ravens and the Cajuns are getting ready to rumble."
"What?"
"That's what I said." He looked at me, and I could see the exasperation. "What's next?"
It seemed like a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway. "Beats me."
He turned around just as Aaron Bronson wheeled a room-service cart out of the elevator.
"You," Jack said.
Aaron looked up.
"It's Aaron, right?" Jack went on. "You look like you can handle yourself." He wheeled around toward the front desk. "Lucy, get somebody out here to take that cart back to the kitchen, please."
Lucy picked up the phone.
"I'm gonna need somebody to help me," Jack said. "We have a bunch of guests about to get themselves in some hot water out on the levee, and I need to go out there and get it stopped before they find themselves in real trouble."
Aaron grinned and said, "Heck yeah, I'm game. In the army I worked on the bomb squad. These days I can use a little action."
I was struck by how handsome and strong the two men were, fierce and intense, and ready to go out and save the day. Why it was enough to make an old-fashioned girl swoon. But there clearly wasn't time for that.
"Mel," Jack said. "Run and get a first aid kit, and anyone else you can find who can help, then grab your clothes from your locker, and meet us back here. You can change on the bus."
"But who should I—?" But he was already on his way out the door.
I ran to the employee locker room, yanked open my locker, grabbed my jeans, T-shirt, jacket, and boots. Then I went to the main cabinet where a few towels, name tags, paper plates, plastic forks, and other things employees found a use for were kept, among them a well-stocked first aid kit.
As I headed back to the lobby, I ran into Fabrizio. He was still in costume, a white jumpsuit and cape, white patent leather boots, and a silvery turban with a big old fake diamond in the middle.
"Fabrizio, come with me. Jack needs us." I grabbed his hand on the fly and pulled him along behind me.
He came without a question. It was just the kind of man he was, always ready to help in whatever way possible.
As we headed across the lobby, I spotted Marvin Pendleton, the little elf who'd performed with Lurch at last night's gala. He was at the reception counter, and it looked like he might have been hitting on Lucy—in his elf costume. Oh, my, Catalina would be heartbroken at his perfidy.
"Marvin," I called out. "Marvin, come with us."
He looked up, startled. "Who, me?"
"Yes, you. Jack Stockton, the manager, he needs help. Please come."
Marvin came at a run and passed both me and Fabrizio.
Out front, the chartered bus was already running, Jack and Aaron already aboard.
Odeo was boarding just ahead of me. He turned and took my hand to steady me. "Mr. Stockton, he say they's having trouble out on the levee."
"I know," I said. "I hope we can stop it."
I clambered up the steps, Fabrizio and Marvin right behind me.
Jack was in the seat right behind the driver, and Aaron directly across the aisle.
I handed the first aid kit to Jack. "I'll head on to the back and get out of this costume."
As Fabrizio and Marvin headed up the aisle after me, I heard Jack say. "Okay. Not what I expected, but you guys will be great. Fabrizio, at least take off the turban."
And then, after a pause when all I heard was the engine running, the whoosh of the bus door closing, and the bells on Marvin's hat and elf shoes jingling as he made his way up the aisle behind me, Jack said, "Seriously? God help us."
I went all the way up the aisle to the last row, tossed my clothes and boots on the seat, and reached for the zipper on my dress.
"I could help you with that."
I turned around. Marvin was standing on the seat directly behind me, his hands in the air, making a zipping motion.
"Oh, no you don't." I said, pointing my finger back toward the front of the bus. "Go. I can take care of this myself. Thank you very much."
He sighed—"Just trying to help."—jumped down off the seat, and moped all the way back to the front of the bus, leaving me to shimmy out of my dress in the dark.