“No. He told me something. Something that I thought I didn’t care about, but now I think I might,” she said as innocently as she could.

  Charlie wasn’t buying it. He set aside his guitar and lit a cigarette. “And what, pray tell, is that?” he asked.

  “He said he's running sound for the Nine Circles Ball and that Derek Sharp has me on the short list to front Rebel Angels." She quickly continued, “Look, I know that it wouldn’t lead to anything, but it would be kind of cool, just once, doing something that big. Stupid, huh?”

  Charlie weighed her words carefully. “Not a bit, sweetheart. Every whore’s got her price.”

  “Charlie, you are such an asshole. Just say ‘no.’ Why you got to find a way to insult me? I told you it was a stupid idea, for fuck’s sake. I know I’m being vain,” she erupted. All the anger and frustration she’d been keeping a tight lid on streamed out faster than she could control it.

  He slipped off the stage and onto the floor, his boots echoing in the empty theatre. He walked over to Q and put his arm around her shoulders. “Calm down, girl. It’s actually a pretty brilliant idea.”

  Q played dumb. “I don’t get what you mean.”

  “Close to ten thousand people go through the Nine Circles Ball. That’s ten thousand people who might be willing to shell out twenty-five bucks to come see the Burlesque. I like it. What do we have to do to get you in?” he asked.

  “Well, I thought we’d add some tunes to the set that would get Sharp's attention without seeming too obvious,” she said.

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked.

  She handed him her headphones and pressed play. Charlie listened in silence.

  “Dark Harm? Are you fucking crazy? We’re a jazz band who can barely rock a roadhouse boogie and you want us to do this shit?” he exclaimed, pulling out the headphones and shoving them back at her.

  “Hear me out. I think I have an arrangement that will work. Listen to the others, they’re not as nuts. Here,” she said, handing back the headphones. He listened to the next two in silence.

  “Those two at least seem doable,” he capitulated. “Okay, so let’s say this will work out, how do we get Derek Sharp to come hear you do them?”

  “Michael Lopez,” she said.

  A sly grin crept over Charlie’s face. “You are a devious one.”

  Q threw her arm across Charlie’s shoulders and moved them both towards the stage. “I learned from the best, Charlie, my boy.”

  ~~~

  It was well past midnight when QT and the Beasts finally agreed on the arrangements for the three new songs, as well as the rest of the set list that they would use at Saturday’s show. By some miracle, they were able to reuse the staging for three songs in the normal rotation so that they could add the new songs immediately, with just one dress rehearsal.

  Charlie had already lined up Michael to sit in as sound man. Q hoped it would be enough for him to call Derek Sharp.

  Q fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and didn’t hear Ben when he came home. The loud vibrating of his cell phone against the water glass on his nightstand jarred them both awake.

  Ben rolled over and groaned, “Who the fuck is calling at seven in the morning?”

  When he answered his phone, Q knew exactly who was calling.

  “So much for weeks,” she said after he’d hung up.

  “Better put Lucy’s number in before we leave,” he said, handing her his phone.

  They dressed silently. Neither one wanting to talk

  about what may be waiting for them. Before they left the house, Q called Lucy.

  “Game on,” she said as soon as Lucy answered.

  “Keep him calm. Hopefully they’ll question you two together. I’m on my way. I’ll be sitting in my car in the parking lot when he calls,” she replied before hanging up.

  As they left the house and got into Ben’s car, he asked, “Tell me again when I should call Lucy?”

  He held the door open for her and she climbed in. When he was seated behind the wheel, Q replied, “As soon as you’re scared.”

  “I’m fucking terrified,” he answered. “So, not super helpful advice.”

  “Listen to their tone. If they get argumentative or start making innuendos, especially if they start trying to push you into saying you had a sexual relationship with Beth, you lawyer up,” she advised.

  As they drove up Carrolton, she continued, “Listen, baby, they’re going to try to talk you out of having a lawyer with you. They’ll say things like, ‘we’re just having a friendly chat’ or, ‘if you have nothing to hide, you don’t need a lawyer with you.’ Things like that.”

  “What do I say?” he asked, clearly as frightened as he said he was.

  “You say, very calm, ‘of course this is just a friendly chat, and I don’t have anything to hide, but I would feel more comfortable if my lawyer was here to make sure it stays friendly. Now, if you don’t mind…’ Then you pull out your phone and call Lucy. She’ll be in the parking lot waiting. If she’s not with you within ten minutes, they’re fucking with you. Don’t fall for it.” Q felt eerily calm as they drove towards the uptown precinct.

  “Ben,” she said, squeezing his knee. “Don’t be nervous. It’s going to be alright. They’re on a fishing expedition, just don’t fall for the bait.”

  He nodded and didn’t say anything.

  As they walked up the steps to the precinct, Sanger greeted them outside. “Good morning. Sorry to wake you two up so early.”

  Ben smiled and shook his hand firmly. “Happy to do it, Detective. Like we said before, anything we can do to help find whoever did this, we’re glad to do it.”

  Sanger led them up the stairs and through the busy station. They walked down a long hall. He opened a wooden door on his right.

  “Ms. Toledano, would you mind waiting in here?” Q looked from Sanger to Ben and her stomach fell.

  She tried to keep the muscles on her face even and controlled.

  “Of course,” she said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ben. “See you in a bit, baby.”

  He kissed her back and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

  Q walked into the bleak, institutionally green room and sat on the far side of the metal table. She looked at her reflection in the mirror before staring at the door for several long minutes. She finally pulled out her cell phone and started a new Scrabble match.

  Cool and calm. Cool and calm.

  After her fifth successful Scrabble match on her phone, Detective Sanger walked in. He was followed by a short, stocky man with a bald spot. His green and pink striped silk shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a St. Christopher medal and a distinct absence of chest hair. Q’s stomach dropped to her knees and a wave of nausea hit her almost as soon as his cologne made it across the room to her nose. Sanger and Gabrielli sat down across from her.

  “Lieutenant Gabrielli. Didn’t know you were still with the NOPD. Thought you’d have been kicked off the force for corruption by now,” Q said sweetly.

  “I see you have your father’s gift for making friends.” He regarded her coolly, waiting for her to speak. She decided to let him win this round.

  She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. Carefully keeping her voice steady and even, she said, “You want to tell me why I’m being questioned by a Lieutenant and not the good detective here?”

  “Just want to make sure Detective Sanger doesn’t let loyalty to your godfather mask his judgment,” he leered.

  “Sure. That’s it.” She used her free hand to make a rolling forward motion. “Go on.”

  Gabrielli set down a folder and several evidence bags in front of him. “Can you tell me where Mr. Bordelon was eleven nights ago?”

  “If you mean the second night Beth was a no-show at work, he was at Lafitte’s Cove,” she replied.

  “You see him there?” he asked without looking up from his notes.

  “No. I had a gig in the Quarter. I got home around three, maybe four, it was late. Ben came home a little later.”

  “What did he do when he got home?” he asked, glancing at her for a moment.

  Q chewed disinterestedly on a hang nail before saying, “Sat on the couch with me and ate leftovers. Then we went to bed.”

  “How did he seem to you?” he asked, leaning back and folding his arms.

  “What do you mean?” she returned.

  Gabrielli cracked his knuckles one at a time while he asked, “He seem upset or angry or worried about anything?”

  “Well, sure, understandably. Beth was a no-show for work, again. Made for a busy night. Ben hates being the heavy and he was pretty sure he was going to have to fire her. So, he was a little stressed, but nothing a little red wine and me wouldn’t cure,” she said, smiling.

  He nodded and made some notes.

  “His employees say he left the Cove that night. Got a text and said he’d be back, but he didn’t. Phone records say he got a text from Beth Hunter.”

  “No,” she corrected him. “That was Friday night. Not Saturday. Check again. Beth sent him a text saying she was stranded. Her car broke down and she was waiting for a tow truck. He needed her to work her shift, so he left the Cove to get her. When he got there, no Beth, no car. We figured the tow truck came earlier and Beth forgot to text him back. He was pretty annoyed at the time, but then he came home to be with me and we had a very nice evening.”

  “So she didn’t send him a text on Saturday?” he countered.

  Q pointed to Sanger. “Ask him. Ben showed Detective Sanger the entire text history. She texted Ben saying she wasn’t coming in.”

  “His employees said he left Friday night and never came back, you know why?” Gabrielli asked.

  “Again, this would go a lot easier if you’d just talk to your detectives.” Q sighed. “Or, and this might be outside of your skill set, listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I just told you, he came home to be with me. I had a bad day. I get them some times. Panic attacks, you know?”

  “Yes, I’m told murdering a man in cold blood will do that.” Gabrielli sneered at her.

  Q flattened her face into a neutral position and blinked at him without responding. He raised up on his chair and slammed down a photograph, pushing it across the table. Q regarded it.

  It was a slightly blurry image of man’s naked torso from his collarbone to the base of his penis. It was covered by a tattoo of an angel, the same angel she’d seen on Ben’s chest a thousand times. Q picked up the photograph and studied it for several moments.

  The man’s build was similar to Ben’s, long and lean with broad shoulders and a well-defined collarbone, but there was something about the man in the image that was unfamiliar. She looked more closely at the photograph until she found what had caught her attention.

  “You recognize that?” he asked with a sardonic smile.

  She nodded. “Sure, this guy’s got a tattoo just like Ben’s, well close enough, anyway.”

  “That looks like Mr. Bordelon to me,” Gabrielli corrected.

  “How many times have you seen my fiancé naked, Lieutenant?” she asked rhetorically, before turning the photograph to face them. She pointed to the smooth skin on the right side of the torso. “No scar. Ben had an emergency appendectomy like five years ago. Damn thing burst and nearly killed him. It left a pretty good scar…just there,” she said, drawing a circle around the area with her index finger.

  Gabrielli picked up the picture and slid it back across the table to her, saying, “Picture’s slightly out of focus, poor lighting, maybe you just can’t see it.”

  She pointed to the photo again. “And the pubic hair is too light. Ben’s carpet doesn't quite match the drapes, if you get my meaning.”

  “Again, it could just be the photograph. The room is pretty dark,” he countered.

  “Poor lighting make Ben an innie instead of an outie, too?” she asked in amusement.

  Gabrielli was taken aback.

  “Ben’s an outie,” she explained. “His belly button is almost flat to the rest of his stomach. This guy’s an innie, like me. It’s the same tattoo, I give you that, but it’s not on Ben’s body.”

  He handed her another picture and she quickly looked away from the explicit close-up in front of her. “Selfie-porn dick pics? Seriously?” she complained.

  “Is that Ben?” he asked, starring at her hard. “Like you said, you’ve seen him naked more that I have.”

  “How should I know?” she asked. “It’s in use. You can barely see it.”

  “So that’s not you?” he questioned. “There’s more, if you’d like a better viewing angle. Ms. Hunter had quite a collection of them on her computer.”

  He pointed to the image. “You can even see the bottom of his tattoo just there beneath what looks to be a pretty flat belly button.”

  Q’s face flushed and she looked away momentarily before resuming steady eye contact. “Like I said, earlier, it’s not Ben.”

  Detective Sanger finally intervened and pulled the images away from Q, putting them back in the folder. He turned to Gabrielli. “I think that’s enough, Lieutenant.” He flashed his easy smile at Q and said, "Ms. Hunter's mother is under the impression that Mr. Bordelon and her daughter were in a serious relationship. You know why?"

  She shook her head. "Confusion? Delusion? How would I know?" she paused. "Ben wasn't seeing Beth. He barely has enough time for one relationship let alone something on the side. There are only so many hours in the day."

  Sanger nodded in agreement. Changing the subject, he asked, “Do you remember where you were February 15, 2013?”

  “No. Can’t say as I do.” She sat back and crossed her legs, assuming a slacker pose against the back of the chair, feigning boredom. Her outer calm masked the torrent of fear raining down her spine.

  “Mr. Bordelon is claiming he was with you. Any reason why he’d remember that and you don’t?” Gabrielli pressed.

  Q shrugged and pulled out her phone. “You mind? I can check my calendar.”

  When he acquiesced, Q scrolled through her calendar. “February what?” she asked, yawning.

  “February 15, 2013,” Sanger repeated.

  Q found the date and instantly smiled. “He’s right. I was with him.”

  “You sound pretty sure about that,” Gabrielli commented, jumping on a perceived opportunity to trap her.

  Q handed Detective Sanger her phone. “We played the Cove that night.”

  “Where did you go after?” Gabrielli asked.

  “Nowhere. I spent the night with Ben in the apartment he keeps behind Lafitte’s Cove. Ben used to live there back when he first opened the bar. Now he just spends the night there when it’s too late to drive home.”

  “Or when he picks up one of his patrons?” he baited.

  Q didn’t take the hook. “That too, I suppose. Although, I was not a patron. I was the musical talent.”

  Sanger looked at the calendar on her phone and asked, “How can you be sure? It just says ‘The Cove, load-in 7pm.’”

  “Read the notes in the calendar,” she said.

  Detective Sanger touched the screen and read out loud, “Go on girl, get your jollies out. Half the women in NOLA fucked him. Try it. You might like it. Kisses – T&P.”

  Sanger blushed.

  “My bandmates, Tom and Pete, they added that to the band calendar after Ben offered me a ride home from the gig,” she said.

  Gabrielli began, “So you and Mr. Bordelon…”

  “…Started dating that night.” Q finished. “Ben’s the girl in the relationship. He remembers that kind of stuff. Me, I need an adolescent note from my bandmates to remember.”

  Sanger looked at his notes and handed her back her phone before asking, “What about February 22, 2014?

  Q unlocked her phone again and flipped through her calendar. “We had a gig outside of Hammond that night.”

  “Where was Mr. Bordelon?” Gabrielli asked.

  “At the show. He came to offer us a gig for a private Lundi Gras party. He was there for load-in, so he would have been with me from eight o’clock or so on, plus the hour it would have taken him to get there. He drove me back to New Orleans, we spent the night at his house and most of the next two days together.” Q stretched and yawned.

  Gabrielli leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t seem to need any notes to remember that.”

  “It was a memorable two days.” Q smiled pleasantly.

  “You care to elaborate?” he asked.

  Q refused to give him what she knew he wanted. “Look, Ben and I were lovers for about a year before we actually started being in a relationship. That weekend was when we actually started being together like we are now. I moved in with him about a month after. During that same time, my best friend was accused of murdering his girlfriend and my other best friend turned out to be a hit man, so yeah, I remember most of February and March of 2014 pretty fucking clearly.”

  Gabrielli whispered something to Sanger. Sanger shook his head before asking, “How long have you known Mr. Bordelon?”

  Q thought for a few moments. “I don’t really know…. let me think. We met about a year or so before we started sleeping together. I was playing piano at a friend’s birthday party. He was there. We got to talking. He flirted with me, even though he was there with another woman. He had kind of a reputation. Mostly undeserved, but still.”

  “What kind of a reputation?” Sanger asked.

  Q shrugged nonchalantly and said, “For being a womanizer. Women are drawn to him, he’s just good with them. When he was single, he hung out with his sisters and cousins a lot, and that just added fuel to the fire. Made him look like more of a lady’s man than he actually was. Again, it was mostly perception, but perception is reality, you know?”

  Sanger asked, “Who was the other woman?”

  “I’m sorry?” Q pretended she didn’t understand the question.

  “The woman he was with the night you met,” Sanger elaborated.

  “Oh. This jewelry designer. Weird name. Strickland something or other?" she said, faking forgetfulness.

 

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