Read Online Murder in the Rue St. Ann by Greg Herren - Free Book Online

get any of this information from me, okay?” She lit the cigarette and smiled at a couple of uniforms walking past us.  Her smile faded and she turned back to me, gesturing with her cigarette. “I casually asked Dominique once how she came to find Mark Williams and Attitude PR. He showed up at her place the day we got our first complaint and offered to help her out with it. He said he knew how to ‘deal with the VCC.’” She flicked ash. “Chanse, you know as well as I do how hard it is for an outsider to adapt to New Orleans. Put yourself in her place. You’ve got millions riding on this club, investors to answer to, and you’re in a strange city trying to navigate through the murky waters of permits and zoning and so forth. Every day your club is closed you’re losing a lot of money. A local shows up and offers to help take care of things for you—and he proves himself by coming up with a solution so you can get open for Southern Decadence—why wouldn’t you hire him?”
    “Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through to get a client, though.”  I said. I  watched her inhale. I’d quit smoking a few months earlier, but still hadn’t gotten past the need. I still snuck one every once in a while. Everyone told me it gets easier, but it hadn’t yet.  I swallowed and resisted the urge to bum one from her.
    “Well, from what I’ve heard, attitude is in serious financial trouble—lots of debt and not enough money coming in. Williams spends an awful lot of money.” She shook her head. “For example, this concert they put on at Domino’s last week? Well, they paid for the hotel rooms and airfare for the band, did all this advertising, and attitude’s total payout?  Dominique lets them keep the cover charge, she gets the bar. They charged ten dollars—and had maybe a hundred people. That’s a thousand dollars gross—and I can tell you that didn’t cover the airfare.” She laughed. “Not exactly good business, you think?”
    “No. It doesn’t make any sense at all.” I replied and thought about it for a minute. Why make a deal where you are constantly losing money?
    “I have to tell you, I don’t like that guy.” She crushed the cigarette out with her foot. “The first time I met him, I didn’t like him. I can’t explain it. He just rubs me the wrong way. I like her—she’s great, if a little misguided, but I think she’s smart enough to figure it all out for herself.” She smoothed her skirt  as another cop went past us. “And if not, oh well. Businesses come and go in the Quarter all the time.”
    “Thanks, Ruth.” I said. I leaned down and hugged her.
    “Good seeing you.” She kissed my cheek.  “You and your boyfriend must come over for dinner soon. I’m dying to meet him.”
    “Call me.” I said as she walked back, knowing she wouldn’t.
    Vieux Carre Mail Service was just a few blocks up Royal Street from the Eighth District building, so I figured I might as well scope it out while I was in the Quarter. I walked down Royal. The sun was getting low in the sky, and long cold shadows crept across the street. The temperature had dropped into the high 60s, and I was cold. I stopped and got a cup of coffee to warm me up, and headed toward the little shop.
    Vieux Carre Mail Service was one of those spots where someone can rent a box and have mail delivered there. They also accepted packages from the overnight carriers, sold stamps and postcards, did box packaging and shipping, and so on. I’ve never understood how a place like that can make money, but there were several different ones scattered all over town. One service they offered, I noticed when I walked in, was to fax things for people for fifty cents.
    I waited until the woman at the counter was through with an impatient balding man who kept looking at his watch until the woman was finished with him. “Yes?” she asked me with a tired smile. She was in her late 50s and her hair hung to her shoulders. It was dyed an