27

“I never,” I said to my lunch companions at Pere Antoine’s twenty-four hours later, “want to go through anything like that again.”

Marie snorted. “You think it was painful to live through, you should try watching.”

“This does not give you carte blanche to trip acid or whatever the lingo is.” My normal sense of humor was on vacation. I had used up all my laughs for the week while I was flying invisible jets. Today, I did not feel like Wonder Woman.

“Not a problem, Zo,” she said. “Tripping the light fantastic was never my thing. You know that.”

I did, yes, but I was more concerned with what was happening in my own head. I was still sniffly, but I was also starving--for anything but Chinese food. The restaurant was on the corner of Royal and St. Ann’s, just a short walk from Bloody Murder and was one of my favorite places. It wasn’t a big tourist trap; the food was wonderful and reasonably priced. The décor was country European, and the atmosphere could be as casual or formal as you wished. Today was casual; I was in jeans, a green sweater and my favorite pair of boots. I could also walk on home afterwards. I’d slept a good ten hours, but the eight before that had been a mental adventure I didn’t care to repeat. Marie canceled the doctor’s appointment, reasoning the doctor would be obliged to call the police about the illegal substance.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, Marie had helped me pack up, forward Michael’s phone to my cell and then she drove me back to the Quarter where we met Jerry and his wife Allison for a late lunch.

I looked at Jerry. “So where was Michael supposed to be at lunch on Thursday?”

“At a Narcotics Anonymous meeting,” he said. “It’s his story to tell you, Zo. I’m not going to apologize for keeping it under my hat.”

“You set me up with an ex-con with a drug history and you’re not going to apologize for failing to mention these two little facts?” Marie excused herself to go the ladies’ room. Allison followed her. As soon as they were out of earshot I continued, dropping my voice for his ears alone, but not the vicious tone. “Fine, I’ll drop it, but if you get the slightest bit high-handed about it, I’m going to tell Allison about Mardi Gras that year.” It was a long time ago, I’d been a wreck, and Jerry had finally admitted he couldn’t find anything out about my parents’ past or deaths. We’d spent the previous six months flirting and growing closer and closer. We had dinner, watched the parade, started drinking and ended up in his place above his office on Demonbreun, too drunk to actually have sex, but we gave it a damn good try.

He was quiet. “We were never going to mention that again. How would you feel if I told Michael about it?”

I gave him the steadiest gaze I had. “I’d want to be a fly on the wall to see the look on your face when he told you he knew.”

“You told him?”

“Why not? I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. It’s only awkward if we make it that way. To the best of my recollection, we woke up, we laughed about it for an hour before getting breakfast at Café du Monde. It happened; we decided we were better off as friends. You met Ally what, six months later?”

“Yeah, and she’s always been a little bit jealous of you,” he replied. “It was partly her idea that I introduce you and Michael.”

“Really?” The idea of Allison having a jealous cell in her body was silly. I’d never met a woman more confident and together. I thought some more. Allison usually didn’t get involved with Jerry’s business, but she was fond of Michael too. That she’d initiated the introduction was a surprise, she was not the most trusting of the male gender. She and Jerry had met when he did some investigating for another woman at a local domestic violence shelter. Ally had been staying there with her kids, finally having escaped an abusive husband.

“You knew me before she did, that’s all.” He was quiet for a minute. “Okay, I’m sorry. I screwed up there. When the two of you got together, he asked me not to tell you, because he wanted to be the one to do it. He was looking for the right time.”

“I guess it’s not time yet,” and now I might never know just why he chose not to. I was dealing with a jumble of emotions that changed as quickly as my focus had on my unintentional acid trip. The only difference was the intensity. I squeezed lemon juice on a crab cake and wolfed it down.

“That must be where Ruby knew Michael from,” I said a little more calmly. “The meeting. That’s why she couldn’t tell me how she knew him.” I checked my purse. “Damn, I didn’t bring the number, it’s still at Michael’s. I don’t know if she went to the police or not.” I thought for a minute. “I think Madeleine told her to. Have your people turned up anything else?”

“I wish I had something to tell you, but they found nothing, Zo. There were no tire tracks at the rest area, no witnesses.”

“But no body, either.” I wanted to hope, but it was getting more difficult to do so.

“No, no body either.” He squeezed my forearm.

Marie and Allison came back from the ladies’. I sneezed.

“God bless you,” Marie and Jerry said at the same time.

I drank more water and refilled my glass from the pitcher our considerate server had left on the table. Jerry was still dubious at the idea I’d been drugged.

“Well, who could have done it, Zo? Marie? She ate some of the Chinese food you had. The cops? You said you did some research on the Internet; some of the cold medicine you’ve been taking could cause hallucinations. And if you weren’t yourself, you might have accidentally overdosed.” He sipped some wine.

“Jerry, you didn’t see her,” Marie said. “If it had just been the medication it would have worn off a lot sooner. I’ve seen acid trips before. And I didn’t touch any of the soup. I did make sure she took a shot of Nyquil so she’d sleep. If someone had Michael’s keys, they could have slipped her the drug and she wouldn’t have heard a thing. Hot & sour soup would kill the bitter taste of the LSD. Zo, did you eat the last crab cake?” Marie was a little weary of dealing with me and drugs of any kind. Who could blame her?

I nodded and glugged down some more water. “I’ll spring for another plate of them. I’m just so hungry. And thirsty. Then I want to go back to sleep for a week. In my own bed, damn it. And go back to work. And find Michael.” I took my key to Michael’s off of my key ring and put it on Jerry’s. “Check the computer room, that’s where Madeleine left the printouts from craigslist and that Ruby person’s number.”

“I know who Ruby is,” Jerry said. “She’s his NA sponsor. Do you remember her last name?” I glared at him. “Sorry, silly question, you weren’t in any kind of position to write anything down.”

“Madeleine did.” I replied.

“Madeleine.” Allison repeated doubtfully. “Who was she exactly?”

“Another MacKay,” I said to her. “I think. I don’t actually know her last name.”

Before anyone could suggest I’d dreamed up Madeleine, Marie spoke up in my defense. “I met her, Ally. Zo didn’t hallucinate an entire person, though she could have, she was that far gone.”

“Enough, Marie.” I felt my face darken. It’s not every day you find yourself searching for deeper meaning in Bugs Bunny cartoons; or in the carpet fuzz for that matter. Both had been equally fascinating yesterday, as had chewing on anything I could get my teeth on. Marie had kept me amused mostly by putting on all the cartoons in Michael’s DVD collection for me to watch and by giving me lots of water and juice to drink. Still, I’d been easily distracted, emotionally volatile, and probably more than a little bit tiring.

Now I was physically and emotionally exhausted. If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have gone right to bed when we reached the Quarter. Jerry’s attitude was not helping. “Who would want to drug you Zo, and why?” was his next question.

“Why and how did I end up in a parking lot in Slidell smelling like Irish whiskey?”

“Could it have been another carjacking?” Allison suggested.

It was a perfectly logical explanation except that I didn’t remember leaving the MacKay house. Whose car did I get jacked from and where was the driver? It wouldn’t have been Madeleine. Damn, I realized I’d forgotten to ask Madeleine where she’d disappeared to back at her aunt’s house. Of course I’d been a little distracted the last time I saw her. By everything.

“Or maybe you had more to drink than you’d like to admit and wandered off by yourself.” Jerry said. His face was stony.

I hadn’t been this stunned since the last time I was hit on the head.

“Ashe, tell me you really just didn’t say that.” Marie was getting angry too.

“He said it,” I answered quietly. “And I want to know why.”

“Zo, be reasonable. You’ve been working way too hard. So much so that you’ve gotten yourself sick. Your own research is showing that anyone could have a bad reaction to the cold medicine you’ve been taking. You had a couple really weird things happen to you and then Michael disappeared. You’re overwrought and overstressed, and you have to start taking care of yourself.”

“Overwrought? Me? The woman you’ve been lying to? Are you going to call me hysterical next?”

“I did not lie,” he said self-righteously. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

Allison put a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. He closed his mouth, but the damage had been done.

“It’s a Catholic thing, Jerry.” Marie said in a futile effort to defuse the situation. “Lying by omission is right up there with the regular ones on the sin scale.”

I was silent, building up to a blazing fury that was only kept in check by being in a public place. Well, that and I didn’t like having any kind of extra attention called to myself in this particular restaurant. It had been almost a year and a half since I’d been shot at while eating here, but the manager still looked at me askance sometimes.

Our entrees, and another plate of crab cakes arrived, which saved us from having to make conversation for a while. Jerry ordered more wine to go with his trout, but didn’t say a thing until he was halfway through our hushed meal.

“I’m sorry, Zo.” He seemed genuinely contrite, but I wasn’t mollified.

“Apology accepted,” I said curtly around a mouthful of steak. Marie played with her crawfish etouffee and didn’t say anything. Allison was equally silent and finding her pasta utterly entrancing. The silence grew as thick as my angora sweater. I had to break it. “Damn it Jerry why start doubting me now?”

“Because you’ve lost your objectivity.” He was trying not to sound impatient and failing miserably.

“She’s supposed to be objective when Michael’s disappeared and it seems to be tied to a dead man who isn’t really dead?” Marie asked. I gave her a grateful look.

“I’m worried about him too, you know.” Jerry said defensively.

“And just like a man, you’re not going to admit it unless forced. How does Allison put up with you?” Leave it to Marie to get right to the point.

“I don’t when he’s like this,” Allison’s blue eyes were like ice. “What’s gotten into you?”

It was my turn to focus on my meal. It was a very good steak. Nice and pink on the inside. Perfectly seasoned, didn’t need additional salt or anything to enhance the flavor. A nice red wine would go well with it, but I wasn’t putting any more booze or drugs into my body until I was feeling completely better, I knew Michael was safe and I was sane. I’d settle for either of the former. Sanity, I was beginning to think, was overrated.

“What’s gotten into me?” Jerry drawled. “I’m being overwhelmed by estrogen for one thing. Nothing Zo had said has any independent verification and the stories just kept getting more and more fanciful.”

“Michael believed her,” Allison said. I mouthed a silent “thank you,” across the table.

“She’s sleeping with him, of course he’s going to believe her. He also may have been involved.”

“Don’t talk about him in the past tense, Ashe.” Marie commanded. “Or have you given up?”

“He hasn’t,” Ally said in what I suspected was the same tone she used to deny mortgage loans. It brooked no argument. I pondered the relationship between brooks and arguments and decided while both involved a lot of babbling, now was not a good time to say that out loud.

Lunch finished on a tense note. Make that four tense notes that did not make up a chord. When Jerry went to the men’s room, Allison apologized for him.

“He’s so worried about Michael. He keeps thinking he could have done something to prevent this.” Her tone was a combination of compassion and exasperation.

“Maybe he could have listened to Zo,” Marie said quietly.

Allison looked at me and then flushed. “That may have been because of me. I told him to stop dropping everything to help you when you had a problem. He’s so protective of you . . .”

“And I keep telling him to stop, Ally.” For all the good it did.

She sighed. ‘I love the man like nobody’s business, but sometimes I feel a little left out when he takes in orphans like you and Michael.”

“That’s why you came to lunch today, isn’t it?” I asked. Ally and I had never talked like this before. It was obviously overdue.

“Yes,” she looked at her plate. She hadn’t finished her lunch. “I was getting concerned at how much time you were spending together. After hearing your side, well, I see that you need what Jerry can do. If we can get him to see sense and do it. “

“Thanks, Ally,” Jerry was walking back towards the table. She stood up and I gave her a hug. She whispered an apology in my ear.

“No need,” I said. “I’m sorry I won’t make the game this afternoon.”

“That’s okay, Zo. Sandra knows you’ve been sick.”

For his part, Jerry grudgingly said he’d go over to Michael’s condo and find the note that Madeleine had written down. He apologized for having to dash off so early, left too much money for his and Ally’s share of the check on the table, and Marie and I were alone for dessert and coffee.

“What’s with him?” My voice was tinged with hostility. Ally’s comments didn’t explain away all of Jerry’s behavior. “I can see where Ally’s coming from, but Jerry’s always been overprotective.”

“It’s because he comes from such a big family. If someone doesn’t have one, he adopts them. You, Michael, even me.”

“You’ve got family,” I pointed out.

“I’ve got three ex-husbands, no kids, no white picket fence, and a mother that cares more about how I affect her Society reputation than she does about my welfare.

“But seriously Zo, think about what Jerry said. You’re not exactly being objective about any of this. Generally, you are the queen of objective. It’s why you were a good reporter. A normally rational woman suddenly starts getting messages from dead people and yes, we’re going to wonder if something isn’t wrong. Jerry seems to think that losing Michael has sent you over the edge and I can’t say I blame him.”

“Over the edge? Marie, I’m as sane as I ever was. I bet Jerry never sent my blouse to the lab, that would give me some proof.” I grumbled when I realized, the only person who believed me outright was the one that was now missing.

“Look, I’ve known you longer than anyone. I’ve said it before, hon, you don’t see dead people. You don’t drop acid, and you can count the number of times you smoked dope on one hand. I was there; it put you to sleep every time. What you’re saying doesn’t have any sensible explanation. If I hadn’t seen someone tripping before--and you can bet your bookstore that Ashe hasn’t--I wouldn’t have believed it either.

I rested my head in my left hand. Maybe she was right.

“What’s the one thing you always tried for when you were a reporter?”

“Corroboration,” I said glumly. “I’m fresh out. No witnesses to what happened to me in Slidell. Would there be anything left in the soup? How did one detect LSD? You didn’t need a lot of it, I knew that much. “Hell, if you hadn’t met her, Jerry would be convinced I made up Madeleine.”

“She seemed like a nice girl. What does she do?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t mention working in the family business. College dropout, I remember that from the ride to her aunt’s house. I wasn’t exactly good at conversation yesterday.”

“Sure you were.” Marie laughed. “As long as the subject matter was very basic.”

“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” Gene wouldn’t have either. Feliz was going to have a field day.

“Are you kidding?”

“Didn’t think so.” I ordered another cup of coffee. “Have you checked to see if your office has sold any real estate to the MacKay family?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to go into the office on Sunday afternoon; I thought I’d do it then. There will be fewer people around to ask what I’m doing and why. I’m not known for hanging around doing title searches without a good reason, you know? Besides, what is property information going to tell you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “My thinking was, if I could find out enough about MacKay, I could figure out why he faked his death. I’m not sure if Levin believed me about him being alive. Washington, on the other hand? I think he knows something because I put Dodson on MacKay’s trail.”

“It’s interesting, don’t you think, that Dodson’s made an appearance whenever a dead body appeared at your place, but this time he’s nowhere to be found?”

“I had noticed that, yes.” I took a bite of my pie and let it melt in my mouth. “I would have thought he’d be right on it if I nudged his curiosity enough.” I shook my head, relieved I could do so without inducing cranial trauma. “I wish I had my own source inside the police station.”

“I wish you didn’t need one,” Marie opened a yellow packet of artificial sweetener into her coffee and stirred.

“That makes two of us.”