Murder in the Rue Chartres by Greg Herren Page B

mask…and he looks old as Methuse—Methus—whatever the hell that guy’s name was. The old one. Anyway, his eyes—mean as a snake. It was just me, Percy’s daughter—Margot, that was her name—and some friend of hers, me and Darrin. None of the others were there. I don’t know why Darrin took me to that, thought that it was a good idea. Maybe he figured having me meet the family was a way to chase me away—although I could have told him the bad sex was much more likely to get me to dump his bony ass. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah, the old man. Man, what a bastard. All he did was just sit there and belittle Darrin, his mother—but she was a cold bitch, that one was—and it was like that all through the whole lousy fucking meal. Just horrible, I kept drinking, gulping glass after glass of wine and praying for the last fucking course to come—and then finally, the old man looks at me and says, ‘I hope you’re enjoying that wine, Ms. Tourneur, it costs $75 a bottle, and you’ve drunk about $200 worth already.’ I just looked at him and said, ‘You got ripped off then, because it tastes like it should have cost about twelve bucks.’”
    “You said that to Percy Verlaine?” Blaine’s eyes about popped out of his head. “What did he do?”
    “He laughed and said to help myself, he liked my style.” Paige accepted a fresh glass of Jack Daniels from the bartender and laughed. “Needless to say, I never went out with Darrin Verlaine again. That whole fucking family is a major creep show.” She shuddered.
    “Why didn’t you tell me you’d dated Darrin Verlaine?” I asked.
    She shrugged. “What single straight man in this town haven’t I dated? Although it’s my studied opinion that Darrin Verlaine isn’t straight by a long shot. Not 100 percent straight, anyway.”
    “I’m heading home.” Venus stood up. She put a twenty down on the table. “I’m tired and—”
    “Venus hates it when we speculate on people’s sex lives,” Paige hiccupped. “Probly cuz everyone thinks she’s a lesbian.”
    “You’re drunk, Paige,” Venus said, more tired than angry. “And I’m tired—it’s been a long day. Good night.”
    Blaine pulled a twenty out of his wallet, laid it on the table, and they walked outside. I could see them through the window. Venus had her face in her hands and her shoulders were shaking. Blaine put his arms around her and gave her a long hug. Paige turned and followed my eyes. She looked back at me, her face flushed. “I’m drunk and I’m a bitch.” She started crying.
    I slid around the table and put my arm around her. She sobbed for a few moments into my shoulder, blubbering apology after apology, and then things started pouring out of her. “I’m such a horrible person, such a horrible person.”
    I held her. “No, shhh, no you’re not. You’re just drunk, that’s all.”
    “Oh yes, Chanse, I am a horrible person. You have no idea just how horrible I am.” She buried her face in her hands. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all my fault.”
    “What?”
    She threw an arm out. “This, all of this, Chanse. What happened here.”
    “Paige—” I sat there for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. “It was the goddamned weather. No one has any control over the weather, Paige, and hurricanes don’t happen to punish people. That’s just crazy talk.”
    “When all those preachers were talking about how God was punishing New Orleans for her sins…” Her voice trailed off.
    “Paige.” I cupped her chin in my hand and turned her so she was looking me in the eye. “That’s nonsense, and you know it. They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. And if that’s how their God behaves, the kind of thing their God is capable of, well, then fuck their God. He isn’t my God, and he isn’t your God, either. Those guys are cracked, insane, and you know that as well as I do.” I tried to make a joke. “Surely if they had a direct