Chapter 14

 

Early next morning, Bertram awakened me by banging on my door. “Hey, Cowboy, wake up in there. There’s someone downstairs looking for you.”

“Not a bill collector, I hope?”

“No bill collector. Someone you’ll want to see.”

Bertram left without telling me the visitor’s names, so I pulled on my pants and shirt I’d worn the night before, slipped on my shoes without worrying about socks, and headed downstairs. Bob was off roaming, so at least I didn’t have to feel guilty about not giving him some treats and paying attention to him.

It didn’t seem to matter much until I learned my visitor was Celeste. She also had on last night’s outfit, her makeup a mess. She was sipping one of Bertram’s specialties, a Bloody Mary, and she frowned when I scooted in beside her.

“Wyatt, I’m sorry about last night. I just had to apologize in person.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I acted like a fool. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Mama Mulate?”

I started to deny Celeste’s assertion, and then thought better of it before I spoke. “Did Mama tell you that we’re seeing each other?”

“She didn’t have to. It was obvious the moment we walked into Musique Azul.”

Tires screeching outside the door signaled the beginning of rush hour, armies of workers descending on the C.B.D. Celeste seemed unaware. I took her hand and gave it what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Mama and I are just close friends. That’s the only connection we have. The only one we’ve ever had.”

My words brought an unexpected response. After hesitating a bit before pulling her hand away, she said, “I don’t believe you, and my feelings are hurt because you kept your deep feelings for Mama from me.”

“I promise that’s not true,” I said, reaching for her hand again. This time she yanked it quickly away and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “Let’s go to dinner tonight, just the two of us. We’ll talk about this, and anything else you want.”

Celeste at least thought about my offer before telling me no. “Mama is giving me a grand tour of the city’s nightlife tonight.”

“Oh? Where is she taking you?”

“Girl’s night out,” she said. “I don’t know where we’re going. If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

I’d only known Celeste a short time. Although I was already fully aware of her intelligence, it didn’t seem to matter. I wondered if the gulf separating us was too deep to cross. I had little time to ponder the idea as Bertram arrived with another bloody Mary for Celeste and coffee for me.

He didn’t help matters when he said, “Watch out for Cowboy here. He knows more pretty women than Elvis did, and he’s about twice as slippery.”

Celeste recoiled again. In my most sarcastic voice as Bertram returned to the bar, I said, “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

Bertram dropped a glass behind the bar and it bounced three times before breaking. Celeste drained the remaining drops of her first bloody Mary, pushed the empty glass aside and started on her second. Hair of the dog seemed to agree with her, and a silly grin soon appeared on her pretty face. She moved closer to me in the booth, giving me a bit of a nudge with her elbow.

“You are good looking,” she said. “I can see why women like you.”

“Don’t believe everything Bertram says. In fact, don’t believe a single word. Where’s your father?”

“He has a business in Starkville. He’ll be back this weekend. I’m on summer break, and there’s no reason for me to go home right now. What the heck! I may as well wait for Dad in New Orleans. See what transpires. Sometimes you can be too careful.”

I waited until Celeste’s stream of consciousness soliloquy ended before sliding out of the booth.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

Bertram was crouched behind the bar, cleaning up broken glass. He gave me thumbs up and his best Cajun grin when he saw me glaring at him.

“Don’t bring her any more drinks. I think she’s still drunk from last night. Oh, and you had better call her a cab. I don’t know how she got here. Doesn’t matter. She can’t return alone to her hotel.”

“Don’t worry Cowboy,” he said. “Ol’ Bertram here is looking out for you. I’ll call that cab for her, but I bet you’d rather have her stay.”

One thing I was sure of: Bertram was doing anything but watching out for me. Celeste had finished her Bloody Mary when I returned to the booth.

“Bertram’s calling a taxi for you. If you’re doing the town with Mama tonight, you’ll need some rest beforehand.”

“What I need is another Bloody Mary.”

As if on cue, Bertram arrived with another drink, smiling and shaking his head when I gave him a dirty look. I refrained from preaching to her about the evils of alcohol. When the taxi arrived, I walked outside with her to make sure she got into the back seat. I knew the driver, one of Bertram’s regulars. I gave him directions to Celeste’s hotel, a twenty, and felt sure he would see to it she made it to her room in one piece.

“Thanks,” I said to Bertram as I returned to the bar.

“Don’t get all bent out of shape. It was a Virgin Mary,” he said.

I pulled up a stool at the bar. “Remember what we were talking about last night?”

“You mean about women?”

“Exactly what I mean. I think I should go to St. Charles General Hospital and get an operation. When it comes to understanding females, a full frontal lobotomy might do me some good. Even my cat’s mad at me.”

“Hey, it can’t hurt,” he said. “And as far as that mangy cat, we’d all be lots better off if he’d just go back to where he come from.”

“Thanks for your support. I’m going upstairs for a hot shower and change of clothes.”

In an hour, I called Tony and told him what I’d learned from Mama. I didn’t fill him in on what Bertram had told me about Sister Rose and her failed marriage to Whitney LeBlanc, nor did I tell him what I suspected about Sister Agnes. I wanted to talk to Mama about it first. In addition, I had a couple of other things I wanted to discuss with her.