Ill Will (33 page)

Two out of three isn’t bad.

As I put my key in the door, I heard my phone ringing. I managed to get to it just before my machine kicked in.

“No, we’re not breaking up.”

“Hi, Alex, good to hear from you,” I said as I tried to catch my breath. I carried the phone with me back to the door to properly lock it.

“Good to talk to you. It seems my communication these days is leaving messages. Or being too tired to talk. I needed to get the topic du jour out of the way before I could ask the important question—how’s Cordelia?”

“She’s okay. So far. Nausea, but that was expected. Continuing to work.”

“I know I’m stuck in Red Stick, I know there is not a lot I can do, but she has been my best friend for most of my life and I can’t lose her. She won’t request anything, but you might, so anything you need, anything I can do, ask. Please ask.”

“I can’t lose her either,” I said softly. That was what Alex was good at, not letting the unspoken remain silent.

“We’re not going to. That just has to be the way it is.”

“So you’ve moving to Red Stick?” We hadn’t really got that out of the way.

“Yes and no. I have a job here. I don’t have one in NOLA. I can’t drive back and forth every day. Some days I have late meetings, or I have extra stuff I need to do. Plus I’m beginning to have violent road rage fantasies. Killing everyone who tries to enter at Highland Park Road. One of my coworkers just finished renovating a small apartment over her garage and asked if I’d be interested. She’s charging me five hundred a month, which is a deal these days. I can leave Monday morning and come back Friday night. It’s not much difference from what we’re doing now—I’m too tired by the time I get home to be company.”

“Except that you’re in bed next to Joanne every night.”

“I know that’s what she wants. And in a perfect world, it’s what I’d want as well. But right now with the commute and my job, I’m doing twelve to fifteen hour days every day. Joanne is angry because I’m not there and I’m angry because I’m so tired and stressed out and…that’s not good.”

“But you’re not breaking up,” I interjected.

Alex sighed. “I’m not trying to break up. I’m trying to hold on to my sanity and take care of myself. I…I’m not sure where it will lead. I hope that if I can be better, maybe we can be better. And if we can’t…at least I’ll be better.”

“Oh, Alex, I’m sorry.”

“Everything changed. You didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, Joanne didn’t do it. But…it changed.” She didn’t pause long enough for me to respond. “Call me if CJ needs anything. Or if you do. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I have to run. Maybe we can get together this weekend?”

“Yeah,” was all I got out before she said, “Good. Later. Bye.”

I put the phone down and stared at it for a while. Everything was changing. Maybe it always did, sometimes at such a rushed pace it felt dizzying.

Right as I got up to get some water, the phone rang again. Today was my day to be in and answering the phone.

“Hey, I’m glad I got you.” Cordelia.

“What’s up?”

“There is a support group. I thought it might be helpful to go. It’s for people who are…going through what I’m going through.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I agreed, ever the helpful spouse.

“There’s a meeting tonight, so I might be home late, nine or even ten. I wanted to let you know.”

“So this is my fried food night?”

She gave a gentle laugh, “As long as you get rid of the smell. I’m sorry, that’s unfair to you.”

“If I decide to indulge, I don’t need to bring it home. It’s not a problem.”

She thanked me and we rang off.

No, not a problem except that she now lived in the land of the ill and I was still on the other side of the divide—well, without the word “cancer” attached to who I was. It wasn’t that she was going to a support group—of course that was all right—but there were now more and more places where I couldn’t help her, not in the way others could.

Everything changes.

My cell phone made its weird little text message sound.

Lydia with our location for tonight’s meeting. I wondered if she knew about the support group, maybe had even suggested it to Cordelia. Curious, her chosen location was in the parking lot of a drugstore up around UNO. I thought Cordelia had mentioned her living Uptown. Their office was around Touro, also Uptown, so this was far afield. Maybe she had a class at UNO and this was convenient. Or maybe she wanted to meet some place away from where anyone she knew was likely to see her.

Vincent had e-mailed me—Debbie—to say he could suggest a few things and would love to get together and see how he could help.
Ah, Vincent
, I sighed,
you’re about to be collateral damage.

I took out the hot pink cell phone and found the card Grant Walters had given me. Time to test the waters and see if I could be of any use to Rafe and his revenge plot.

Walters answered after three rings.

Perky Debbie said, “Mr. Walters? I mean Grant? This is Deborah Perkins. You signed me up to sell Nature’s Beautiful Gift products last week?”

“Yes, Debbie, how are you?” The silver tongue, warm and inviting as if saying of course he remembered me well. “How are sales going?”

“Quite well,” I lied. “I’m over halfway through the order, with several visits scheduled for the next few days. I’ve found it really helpful to not do a hard sell, but instead approach it as healthy living and Nature’s Beautiful Gift being part of that.”

“An important part.”

“Oh, of course. But people like to think they control things, so I guide them so they’re making the choices, not me selling them something. It’s psychology—they think I’m trying to help them—which I am—so they want to return the favor by buying something.”

“Very clever. I thought you’d do well. Would you like to restock soon?”

Silver tongue and ruthless eye on the bottom line. “Very soon, maybe after a few more sales. Right now I should sell out what I’ve got before getting more, but in the next month or two, once I’m going full steam, I’ll be able to order a lot more.”

“That’s very good to hear.”

“I’m so grateful to you, Grant, for this opportunity. I feel like this gives me a chance to not just struggle, but to do well.” I had to remind myself to not take it too far over the top. He had an ego, but he wasn’t stupid.

“I don’t give people opportunities; they earn them.”

“I know you’re a busy man. I had mentioned to you that I have someone close to me who is very ill and wanted to know what would be the best for her. You said you might have some suggestions if I’d call you in a few days. If now’s not a good time, I can call back later.”

“I might have some suggestions. As you know, our government and big industry have control of health care. There are things they don’t want you to know.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that. Nothing is ever cured, so their profits never stop.”

“Exactly. It’s a challenge and can be costly to take them on, to offer things that should be on every pharmacy shelf, but instead aren’t allowed in the country.”

“Yes, I understand. I can’t let someone I care about undergo horrible treatment because that’s what makes the most profit.”

“Who is your family member?” he asked.

Damn, I was hoping to keep it vague. “My sister. She’s older than I am and kind of raised me—my mother suffered from depression, so she wasn’t always there. We’ve always been close. I’ve been taking her to her chemo appointments.” I wasn’t going to get into the lesbian issue—plus this was not Cordelia and I but Debbie and her sister. I needed the lie that would best work for this situation.

“What’s wrong with her?”

No, he wasn’t stupid. If it was true, I should be able to easily answer these questions. “Lymphoma. Stage three when they found it. It’s one of the more aggressive forms, so they’re doing heavy chemo. She’s living on plain rice and dry toast.”

“Who is her doctor?”

“Uh, let me remember.” Cordelia called her Jenny. “Oh, now I have it, Jennifer Godwin. She’s at…oh, what’s that place Uptown? On Prytania.”

“Ah, yes, I think I know where you’re talking about. Listen, you have to make sure your sister knows what she’s getting into. It could help her, help her greatly, but there are forces out there that would shut this down the second they found out about it. Let me see what I can do. In the meantime, let’s keep you going with Nature’s Beautiful Gift.”

His meaning was clear. I had to prove myself and earn his trust.

He continued, “Why don’t you come by this afternoon and get some more product? It’s the only time I’ll be around this week and I like a chance to meet personally with my associates.”

This was the cliché “offer I couldn’t refuse”—not if I wanted him to believe in perky Debbie and her fake sister.

“I’m a little short on cash—”

“Don’t worry, just give me half of what you’ve made so far and I’ll give you the same amount of inventory. Unless you want more?”

Rafe and his Dallas money buddies will cover this.
At least I hoped they would. “I definitely think I could sell more—I’m meeting some of my old sorority sisters over the weekend, so if you trust me with more, I’d be glad to take it.”

“How about double if you give me three-quarters of what you’ve made so far? I’ll make it a no-interest loan for a month. Sell everything and pay me back in that time and it’ll be yours for cost.”

“Thank you, sir—I mean, Grant. This is a great deal and I appreciate it.”

He gave me instructions to meet him at the same place in Metairie in the late afternoon.

Bathroom break.

My cell phone—mine, not Debbie’s—starting jangling as I was zipping up.

Worried about Cordelia, I ran out of the bathroom and grabbed it.

“Mick!” It was Danny.

“What’s up? What’s wrong?” Would Danny be calling me about Cordelia? Her partner Elly was a nurse and might be with Cordelia.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“What? Just tell me!”

“Dudley escaped. The oldest trick in the book—faked being barely able to move, got his guard to uncuff him so he could take a leak, then punched the guy, grabbed his gun, and took off running.”

“That’s all?” I asked, relief coursing through me.

“Isn’t that enough? A man who tried to kill you has escaped and is armed.”

“Can you hold a minute? Someone is knocking at my door. Oh, wait, they’re breaking the door down.”

“Get the fuck out of—bullshit. The phone would be on the floor.”

“My bad, just a woodpecker outside.”

“Mick, someone might be trying to kill you. You’re taking this a bit lightly.”

“I thought you might be calling about Cordelia,” I said softly.

“Ah…yeah.” It was all the explanation needed. “Go lock your downstairs door.”

“It’s already locked. As is my office door. And I’m carrying my gun. Anything else?”

“Don’t take candy from strangers.”

“Roger that. Any reason to think he’s coming after me rather than trying to be at the Mexican border before dark?”

“No, just that he’s loose, armed, and dangerous.”

My office phone started ringing. I glanced at the caller ID. Joanne, presumably to tell me the same thing. “Joanne’s calling,” I told Danny.

“No jokes about people breaking down the door,” Danny admonished me before hanging up.

“If you’re calling about Dudley, I already know,” I answered the phone.

“Bingo. Be on the alert. The good news for you is that he’s not in great shape. Some busted ribs and other stuff, and once his pain meds wear off, he’ll be very aware of it. He might come after you, but right now he’s so doped up he probably couldn’t shoot straight.”

“Which means he might hit me given what a lousy shot he was sober.”

Joanne ignored that. “He’s due for another pain pill in about half an hour, so we’re guessing that he’ll be at one of his favorite drug haunts in about an hour.”

“So what should I do in the meantime?”

“Doors locked, gun handy, steer clear of crack houses. Call me later in the day and I’ll update you.”

“All of the above. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you back yesterday. How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she said in a tone that let me know she wasn’t and she wasn’t going to talk about it. The phone was dead before I had a chance to say anything else.

I retrieved my gun and put it right in the middle of my desk. This would not be a good day for Mr. Charles Williams to visit, because I was inclined to shoot first and ask questions at a later date.

My stomach was growling. It was well past my usual lunchtime. I decided to venture out. It might be risking my life, but sometimes an oyster po-boy is worth it. Right now I was craving something fried. All our talk last night of how off-putting fried was for Cordelia had lodged the waft of hot grease in my brain. I put on my gun, found a light enough jacket so it didn’t look too out of place in this weather, and went in search of something golden brown.