The Wolven

Page 27

Although Shauna didn’t hear Gris Gris’ response, he must have given the woman permission because she reached out and poked the boa with the tip of a finger.
“Oh, my, she’s dry,” the woman said. “I heard snakes was slimy and all, but I never held one before so I didn’t know for sure. I think she’s pretty, though.”
The man standing near the woman, took her by the arm and was urging her to get moving.
“Oh, okay, then—well, bye-bye now,” the woman said to Gris Gris. “Thank you for lettin’ us look at your snake.”
No sooner did the couple walk away, than Trish glued herself back to Gris Gris’ side. She saw Trish slide a hand over the big man’s belly, all the way down to his groin. A sneer crossed Gris Gris’ face. Shauna didn’t know what made her more nauseous, seeing that or the guy with the whiskey-onion breath. Then Trish stepped in front of Gris Gris, and from the way she moved, it was a sure bet that she was rubbing her breasts against the man’s chest.
Shauna shook her head. “I can’t hear anything now. Not with Trish in front of him like that.”
“I don’t know about them,” Danyon said. “To be honest, what you said they were talking about didn’t sound that weird to me. I think you’re right about it being a drug deal, but they could be talking about anything, heroin—cocaine—meth.”
“A thousand dollars an ounce?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know. They could have been talking about more than one thing, and you might have picked the words up out of sequence. I mean really, Shauna. Take a good look at the guy. He’s so big he probably loses his breath just crossing the street. Can you really picture him trying to hold down a were?”
“No…but I think he knows something—they both know something.”
“I think you’re pulling at straws.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“All right, I’ll keep everything you’ve said in mind, but humor me for now, will you? Let’s find Banjo first. I think he’s a more solid lead, and we need to follow through with it. It’s not going to get any easier with this crowd. The later it gets the more crowded it’ll become. And crazier. I don’t know how we’re going to find Banjo in this mass of people as it is.”
“Okay, but I want to stay here for a few more minutes. Maybe we’ll hear more.”
“We’re wasting time. Look, Rush is only two or three blocks from here, and according to Lurnell, it’s one of Banjo’s regular hangouts. So we’ll start there.” He turned, ready to leave.
Shauna tugged on his arm. “Wait. What if we move a little closer to Gris Gris and Trish? We’ll hear more if we’re closer.”
“We can’t go over there,” Danyon said. “Not with all these people. To get anywhere out here, you have to flow with the foot traffic, not against it. We’ll get to them next if we need to, but I really don’t think Gris Gris makes a solid candidate. Besides, if he was dealing some new drug, or any drugs at all, don’t you think Lurnell would know since her store isn’t far from his?”
Shauna wanted to argue back, to plead her case. Something in her gut was telling her to pay attention to what Gris Gris had to say. But Danyon was already in motion, his mind evidently made up that they had to get to Banjo first.
With little choice but to follow, Shauna squeezed through the crowds after him. She had a sneaking suspicion that Gris Gris was somehow involved with the were deaths, and she planned to find out why, how, and with whom.
And she’d do it with or without Danyon’s help.
Chapter 16
Shauna wound up clinging to the back of Danyon’s shirt as they made their way down Bourbon. He had been right about the crowd getting worse as it got later. Even now, they weren’t able to walk side by side, so she had to trail behind him.
From the safety of Danyon’s height and width, she saw men and women hanging off of balconies on the second floors of restaurants and bars, most of them dangling Mardi Gras beads of different shapes and colors over the railing, offering them as prizes to anyone on the street below brave enough to show a little skin. The alcohol flowed, breasts were bared, pants were yanked down, offering a full moon view to whoever had the biggest, brightest beads. Some people were dressed in costumes that ranged from cartoon characters to horror movie headliners like Freddy Kruger, Jason in the infamous hockey mask and, of course, Leatherface, only this one carried a plastic chainsaw. Some were dressed in street clothes, others barely wore clothes at all. Many wore Mardi Gras masks that were decorated with purple plumage and sprinkled with green and gold glitter.
To many people, New Orleans was the party capital of the world. They loved coming to the city because they knew she would open her arms wide, no matter their race, sexual preference, or political beliefs. Most of the tourists who came for Nuit du Dommage and Mardi Gras loved wearing the costumes and masks because it gave them an outlet to shed their inhibitions and do things they normally wouldn’t do. Shauna saw the city in a slightly different light. To her, New Orleans was a safe haven—a mother, a lover, a friend, one who would accept you without judgment when you removed the mask you wore in everyday life. People love New Orleans for different reasons, and although she welcomes all who come to her door, there are only a few that she truly loves back. Shauna could always spot those fortunate people. They were the ones who saw beyond the booze and glitz and free-for-alls. They truly got her.
It seemed to be taking forever for them to cover the two blocks needed to reach the Rush club. They had been inching along so slowly, that it took Shauna a few minutes to realize they had come to a dead stop.
She tugged on Danyon’s shirt, and he leaned toward her.
“Why did we stop?” she asked.
“Best I can tell, the police are breaking up a fight up ahead.”
“This is ridiculous,” Shauna said. “We’re not making any progress. Let’s go back to where Gris Gris and Trish were. I just know there’s something going on there.”
He shook his head. “It’ll be even more difficult going back than it is going forward. And we can’t be everywhere at once. Besides, you only heard bits and pieces of their conversation. If we took that trail instead of the one we’re on with Banjo, we might be led down a never ending rabbit hole. You heard Banjo clearly. You said he talked about no teeth and no big fingernails—I want to start where I think we’ll have a decent shot of at least getting more information. We can get to the snake man later. He’s not going anywhere. A four-hundred pound man who uses a boa constrictor as an accessory can’t have that many places to hide.”
“Maybe not, but—Hey…that’s him! There he is!”
Danyon snapped to attention. “Who? Where?”
“Banjo. Over there in the orange shirt!” She pointed ahead and to the right. It was by chance she had caught sight of him. Out the corner of her eye, she had spotted something orange popping in and out of view. It caught her attention long enough for her to see that it was a person with a pointed head and long, greasy, brown hair and was wearing a bright orange shirt. The person appeared to be jumping up and down, like they were spring-loaded, and it wasn’t until the person turned slightly that she saw Banjo’s face just as he jumped on the upswing.
A couple of seconds after she pointed him out to Danyon, Banjo was no longer jumping in and out of view. Fearing he had spotted her, as well, Shauna pushed aggressively through the crowd, trying to reach the spot where she had seen him. But the more she pushed and shoved, the tighter the crowds wrapped around her.
“I think we lost him,” Shauna shouted to Danyon.
“No, we didn’t,” he said, then grabbed her hand and forged ahead. “I saw him run into Opal’s bar.”
Shauna soon found herself trotting to keep up with Danyon. He didn’t have to push anyone out of the way. People saw him charging ahead, and they simply parted to make way.
In a matter of minutes, Danyon veered left, still pulling her along, then crossed the open doorway into Opal’s.
Like any other bar on Bourbon on a busy night, Opal’s was dark, save for the neon beer sign over the bar and a couple of blue and red spotlights that showcased a blues band playing in one corner. The small joint smelled of booze, sweat and cigarette smoke, and was as packed as the street outside. The loud thump of music, glasses clinking, people laughing and talking, the noise was almost more than Shauna could bear.
Still holding her hand in a vice grip, Danyon led her to the long stretch of bar on the left.
The bartender was a short, sweaty man wearing a bad hairpiece. He was running from one end of the bar to the other, replacing empty beer bottles with fresh cold ones and pouring shots of bourbon, vodka, and tequila. Danyon signaled him over.
“Get to ya when I get to ya, Bubba,” the bartender said as he rushed past Danyon to deliver a drink to a woman sitting at the other end of the bar. As he raced back in the opposite direction, Danyon leaned over the bar, grabbed him by the shirt tail and pulled him up close.
“Hey, man! Get your hands off me. What the hell you…” It was about this time that the bartender appeared to get a really good look at who he was talking to and the size of the hand that held on to him. “Yeah, okay, whatever. What you gonna have, man?”
“Nothing,” Danyon said. “Have you seen a guy running through here? Bright orange shirt, long hair, skinny?”
The bartender shook his head. “Dude, you’re talking about half the drunks in the city right now.”
Danyon pulled him up a bit closer. “Do I look like a dude to you?”
“Uh…no. No, man, no. I’m just saying. Shit, I’m just doing my job. There’re so many people in and out of here, everybody starts looking the same after a while. I don’t know if the guy you’re looking for has even been in here. Look, help yourself—look around the joint if you want. Maybe he’s out back or something. You a cop are what?”