there to keep an eye on Papa Larry. He was already in bad health.”
“All right, let’s try to figure out where else he could be.” I didn’t want to have to wander around the French Quarter with June at this time of night, poking our heads into every bar and club. That prospect didn’t sound appealing at all, or very safe, either.
Something else occurred to me. I said, “Come on,” and motioned for June to follow me.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she fell in step beside me.
I started down the corridor toward the garden. “Waiters from the bar circulate through the garden in the atrium.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“So you didn’t look there earlier?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even think about it.”
The garden was a pretty big place, relatively speaking. The hotel took up an entire city block, after all. And there were a lot of trees and shrubs and bushes packed in there, with narrow flagstone paths winding through them. I wondered if it was possible to get lost in there. I pictured a drunken Papa Larry lumbering around, unable to find his way out.
“Should I call his name?” June asked as we started along the first path we came to.
“No, if he’s drinkin', he’ll know that somebody’s lookin’ forhim and he’s liable to hide,” I said. “There are tables in here. We’ll check them.”
“What if he’s somewhere in that … that jungle?”
I thought about it and said, “If we don’t find him at one of the tables, we’ll go back upstairs and look down from my balcony. If he’s in here, we ought to be able to spot him.”
I didn’t mention having gazed down at the garden earlier, just before I accidentally spotted Callie Madison and Dr. Jeffords. At that time, the only one I’d seen moving around the garden was Dr. Keller. Dr. Powers could have been at one of the tables then, shielded from my view by its umbrella.
June and I twisted and turned through the garden for a couple of minutes, passing several of the tables where hotel guests sat drinking and talking. At one of the tables, a man and a woman were kissing, but the man wasn’t Papa Larry. As we turned a corner around some flowering bushes, I saw a white-jacketed waiter coming toward us, an empty tray tucked under his arm. He smiled and nodded and stepped aside so that we could get past him on the path.
I stopped instead and asked him, “Have you seen a big fella sitting alone at one of the tables in here? He’s balding and has a little beard.”
He didn’t stop smiling as he said, “The hotel staff has a policy of discretion, ma’am–”
“For God’s sake,” June interrupted. “He’s my father-in-law, not some cheating husband. He’ll be pouring booze down his throat and he has stomach cancer. It could kill him. Now do you want to talk to me about discretion?”
That shook the smile off the waiter’s face. He half-turned and waved the empty tray in the direction we’d been going along the path. “He’s up there. I just delivered a rum and cola to him. But I swear I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.”
I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but June didn’tlook like she was in any mood to be forgiving. I figured we’d better go on and deal with her father-in-law rather than standing around fussing at a waiter, so I just nodded and said, “Thanks. Come on, June.”
She glared at the waiter but followed me. We went around a couple more bends in the path, then saw the table in a little open area on the left, with a bright yellow umbrella above it. Dr. Lawrence Powers slouched in a wrought-iron chair that looked like it was bending a little under his weight. He had a half-empty glass in front of him.
“Papa Larry!” June cried.
His bleary eyes widened in surprise as he looked at us. Quickly, he lifted the glass to his lips and guzzled down the rest of the drink, even as June hurried forward to try to snatch it out of his hand. She got the glass, but only after it
“All right, let’s try to figure out where else he could be.” I didn’t want to have to wander around the French Quarter with June at this time of night, poking our heads into every bar and club. That prospect didn’t sound appealing at all, or very safe, either.
Something else occurred to me. I said, “Come on,” and motioned for June to follow me.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she fell in step beside me.
I started down the corridor toward the garden. “Waiters from the bar circulate through the garden in the atrium.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“So you didn’t look there earlier?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t even think about it.”
The garden was a pretty big place, relatively speaking. The hotel took up an entire city block, after all. And there were a lot of trees and shrubs and bushes packed in there, with narrow flagstone paths winding through them. I wondered if it was possible to get lost in there. I pictured a drunken Papa Larry lumbering around, unable to find his way out.
“Should I call his name?” June asked as we started along the first path we came to.
“No, if he’s drinkin', he’ll know that somebody’s lookin’ forhim and he’s liable to hide,” I said. “There are tables in here. We’ll check them.”
“What if he’s somewhere in that … that jungle?”
I thought about it and said, “If we don’t find him at one of the tables, we’ll go back upstairs and look down from my balcony. If he’s in here, we ought to be able to spot him.”
I didn’t mention having gazed down at the garden earlier, just before I accidentally spotted Callie Madison and Dr. Jeffords. At that time, the only one I’d seen moving around the garden was Dr. Keller. Dr. Powers could have been at one of the tables then, shielded from my view by its umbrella.
June and I twisted and turned through the garden for a couple of minutes, passing several of the tables where hotel guests sat drinking and talking. At one of the tables, a man and a woman were kissing, but the man wasn’t Papa Larry. As we turned a corner around some flowering bushes, I saw a white-jacketed waiter coming toward us, an empty tray tucked under his arm. He smiled and nodded and stepped aside so that we could get past him on the path.
I stopped instead and asked him, “Have you seen a big fella sitting alone at one of the tables in here? He’s balding and has a little beard.”
He didn’t stop smiling as he said, “The hotel staff has a policy of discretion, ma’am–”
“For God’s sake,” June interrupted. “He’s my father-in-law, not some cheating husband. He’ll be pouring booze down his throat and he has stomach cancer. It could kill him. Now do you want to talk to me about discretion?”
That shook the smile off the waiter’s face. He half-turned and waved the empty tray in the direction we’d been going along the path. “He’s up there. I just delivered a rum and cola to him. But I swear I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.”
I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but June didn’tlook like she was in any mood to be forgiving. I figured we’d better go on and deal with her father-in-law rather than standing around fussing at a waiter, so I just nodded and said, “Thanks. Come on, June.”
She glared at the waiter but followed me. We went around a couple more bends in the path, then saw the table in a little open area on the left, with a bright yellow umbrella above it. Dr. Lawrence Powers slouched in a wrought-iron chair that looked like it was bending a little under his weight. He had a half-empty glass in front of him.
“Papa Larry!” June cried.
His bleary eyes widened in surprise as he looked at us. Quickly, he lifted the glass to his lips and guzzled down the rest of the drink, even as June hurried forward to try to snatch it out of his hand. She got the glass, but only after it
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