Page 44 of The Shop on Royal Street
“Was there anything interesting about the autopsy?”
“You could say so.” He leaned forward, close enough that I could smell the bourbon on his lips, and almost whispered. “Jeanne was in the first trimester of a pregnancy. An out-of-wedlock pregnancy in 1964 was a big deal, especially for a single woman. Especially for someone related to the Broussard family. They were and still are a pretty big deal around here.”
“Sounds like a motive,” I said.
“It sure does.” He scraped his plate before noticing that Jolene and I hadn’t had any of the dessert. “I’m so sorry. Let’s order another—”
“No,” I said quickly. “We’re both too full.” I stupidly patted my belly to make sure he understood. “Do you think that’s enough information to reopen the case?”
“It might be. I’ve got to do a little more investigating first. I’ve got my Wednesday-night poker group with a bunch of us old-timers on the force meeting this week, and I’m going to ask them if they remember anything. And I’m going to make some calls to see where Jeanne’s boyfriend is now. He had an airtight alibi, but he might have more to say now.”
“He’s probably dead,” Jolene said. “I mean, how old would he be?”
“My age.” Bernie’s expression didn’t change.
Without missing a beat, Jolene said, “Well, gosh, I thought you would be much younger than that. Maybe it’s because you look so much like Sean Connery.”
Uncle Bernie grinned broadly, raising his dark eyebrows so that I could actually see a slight resemblance to the late James Bond actor. “I used to get that a lot when I was a bit younger.”
“I might have a clue for you,” I said without thinking. “I believe that the killer may have smoked a pipe.”
“Really? What makes you say that?”
“I...” I closed my mouth, quickly making up something that I hoped would sound plausible. “Mimi told me that at the time she was preparing to move in with Jeanne and Louise there was a frequent visitor to the house who smoked a pipe, but she doesn’t remember his name. I just figured since we have nothing to go on, that’s something, right?”
“It’s something. It could take some time looking through old files and records, but I’m retired. All I’ve got is time.” He laughed loudly, causing several heads to turn our way.
“Well, thank you. I hate to think of poor Jeanne not resting in peace.”
“Why do you think she’s not?” Bernie asked, his face blank.
I shrugged. “Just a feeling.” I signaled to the waiter to bring the check while Uncle Bernie drained his glass, the ice clinking at the bottom.
“There’s actually something else, Nola. I know you didn’t ask me, but Jaxson reminded me of the Sunny Ryan case—I suppose because he and Beau have seen each other recently. I wasn’t part of the investigation at the time, but of course we all knew about it—it was a huge news story. We might have had a better chance of finding Sunny if Katrina hadn’t hit right afterwards and diverted all of our resources. It took a while before we could get back to thoroughly working older cases. Anyway, one of my old poker buddies was one of the detectives assigned to the case.”
Carly chose that moment to reappear. Her cocktail glass was full, she having apparently taken the opportunity to stop by the bar at the front of the restaurant for a refill—and probably charging it to the table, since she conveniently hadn’t brought her purse when she stepped outside. “Sorry to have taken so long. Jaxson and I saw each other just a few hours ago, but we still had a lot to say.” She smirked in that “cat that got the cream” sort of way. “His whole family is heading to their beach house next weekend and he’s asked me to go. You have such greatfashion sense, Jolene—you’re going to have to come shopping with me to pick out a beach house wardrobe. I definitely need a new bikini, for starters.”
“Of course.” Jolene smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Bernie stood while Carly settled herself back in her chair, looking surprised at the empty spot on the table in front of her. “What happened to my food?”
Jolene and I exchanged a glance, long enough to communicate that there was no way we were going to tell her it was in my backpack, but not long enough to concoct an alternate story.
“A couple of flies landed on it, so I asked the waiter to take it away. Would you like to order another meal?” Uncle Bernie looked so sincere, even I almost believed him.
Carly slung back her drink, then placed the empty glass on the white tablecloth. “Never mind. I rather like having a liquid brunch. Less calories.” She giggled, then stood abruptly, causing Bernie to attempt to stand again, but his knees must have still been in recovery mode from Carly’s recent reappearance, and he made it only halfway. “Please excuse me—I need to go powder my nose. I’ll be right back.”
Eager to hear what he’d been about to say regarding Sunny’s case, I turned back to Bernie, just in time to see him signing a credit card receipt and handing the folder back to our waiter.
“Wait...” I began.
Bernie waved him away. “I hope you didn’t think that I expected you to pay for our meal. The wife would never forgive me.” He laughed, but his eyes were serious, and I had the feeling that he had seen my every twinge throughout the food-and-drink ordering. Even though he was long past retirement, he couldn’t stop being a detective. Leaning forward, he said, “And you can keep the doggie bag—I promise I won’t tell.”
The three of us were still laughing when Carly returned to the table and we all stood to leave. “What’s so funny? Did I miss something?”
“Nothing at all,” Jolene said as she pushed in her chair. “Just talking about how we’re going to be having leftovers tonight for supper.”
“I’ll go get the car if you can wait with Bernie. I’ll be right back,” Carly said before heading out with Uncle Bernie, leaving Jolene and me to snicker like schoolgirls as we followed them out of the restaurant.
