Page 45 of The Shop on Royal Street
As soon as Carly stepped off the curb I turned to Bernie. “What were you going to tell me about Sunny’s case?”
He took a step closer, casually glancing around us as if expecting eavesdroppers. “My buddy—the one who’d worked on the Sunny Ryan case—said that the reason the investigation was stopped was because of pressure from higher-ups, from the very top. At the time, the superintendent was real good friends with a lot of prominent New Orleans professionals and businessmen—read into that what you will. Rumor was that the push to stop the investigation came from Dr.Charles Ryan.”
“Wait—Dr.Ryan? You mean Beau and Sunny’s grandfather?”
Carly pulled up to the curb and jumped out to open the passenger door before helping Bernie inside. She said good-bye to us—with a promise to call Jolene and set up their shopping trip—then returned to the driver’s seat.
Bernie rolled down his window. “Yes. I don’t think it’s widely known—at least outside of certain circles—but you might want to ask Beau. And I’ll see what else I can find out.” He smiled. “It was a pleasure meeting you girls. Don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with. There are lots of other restaurants I want to try.”
“The pleasure was mutual. And thanks for lunch. I didn’t intend for you to pay for it.”
“I know. Thanks for allowing this old man a few hours of good food and excellent companionship.”
Jolene leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, and I could have sworn he blushed.
“You watch it, Jolene,” he said with a smile. “My missus is very territorial. But I won’t tell if you won’t.”
He was still laughing as Carly drove away, the window slowly rolling up.
“That’s really odd,” I said, staring after the car.
“What? That Carly is a little late getting her hair highlights?”
“No. That Dr.Ryan wanted the investigation into his granddaughter’s disappearance halted. It doesn’t make sense. I need to find a way to ask Beau about it.” I remembered the wet footprints that seemed to follow Beau, and for the first time in my life I wished I could speak to the dead. From my experiences living with Melanie, I’d discovered that no restless spirit lingered because it wanted to. Even if I couldn’t communicate with ghosts, it seemed wrong to allow them to exist in torment until someone came along who could. “I wish Melanie was here.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“We all miss our mamas, no matter how old we get, don’t we? Don’t worry—she’ll be here with your whole family in October. I can’t wait to meet everybody.”
Happy to follow along and redirect my thoughts, I said, “I’ll be sure to invite Jaxson over to meet Jack. He’s a big fan. And I won’t tell Carly if you won’t.” I nudged her with my hip, making her laugh as she led the way to Bubba.
CHAPTER 15
On Monday morning as I waited for Beau to pick me up for the drive to St. Francisville, I sat not so patiently at Jolene’s dressing table while she French braided my hair. Since I’d be working outside, doing lots of walking and snapping pictures, I’d planned on the old standby of scraping my hair back in a ponytail and forgetting it. Which actually worked out perfectly, since my only brush had somehow gone missing from my backpack and I’d been making do with my fingers and a small comb.
Apparently, Jolene had other, Machiavellian plans to butter me up (her words) by feeding me homemade French toast and something that smelled and looked like bacon but that she swore was vegan. This had started us laughing for a full five minutes, and by the time the laughter had died down I was sitting at the table with a full plate in front of me, as well as a cup of coffee—a new habit I’d picked up since Jolene had moved in—and she was showing me clothing options for my trip to St. Francisville. Which was why I was wearing her sapphire blue cap-sleeve blouse, which she swore was the exact color as my eyes.
“You’ve got the most amazing cheekbones and your face is perfectly symmetrical. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d hate you.” She lifted my hair. “See what happens when you do more than a sloppy ponytail?You accentuate all your gorgeous features. I think you could stop traffic, so be careful when crossing the street.”
“You know, Jolene,” I said to her reflection in the mirror, “it’s called fieldwork for a reason. It’s typically done in boots and jeans, no makeup, and a baseball hat.”
She tugged on my hair, winding it and tucking it and putting it through other movements with which it was unfamiliar. “You poor, sweet darlin’,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “I’m going to give you a pass because you spent the first fourteen years of your life in California and weren’t raised to know any better. But there’s a difference between dressing casual and looking like something the dog keeps under the porch.”
I gave her the look I usually reserved for Melanie when her parting words were “Make good choices.” “It’s not like it matters. Nobody is going to be seeing me.”
“Except for Beau.”
I looked up sharply, but Jolene remained focused on the back of my head. “He doesn’t count. He’s only driving me as a favor. It’s not like I asked him.”
The ticking of her Cowardly Lion wall clock filled the silence for a full minute. “I saw him with that girl, too,” she said. “That night we went to Frenchmen Street.” She raised her eyes to meet mine in the mirror. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me, but I guess I’d have to wait for hell to freeze over, so I’m bringing it up first.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
She stared me down in the mirror. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I see that look on your face. It’s the same face every member of our club wears, which is how I recognize it.”
I turned in my seat. “What are you talking about? What club?”
“The Mooning Hearts Club.” She tugged on the bottom of my braid to turn me around but I didn’t budge. “For those of us strong, smart, and independent women with advanced degrees and good jobs who find ourselves somehow braying like lost sheep after an unavailable man.”
“I’m not braying over anyone. And sheep don’t bray—they baa.”
