down, hoping he wouldn’t see her hair. Maybe he didn’t even know she had red hair. It had been fairly dark by the river. But he must have followedher to the Moonwalk. He didn’t just go up to the first park bench he passed and tell the woman sitting there to stop being nosy while strangling her. When had he started following her? When she left the convent? The restaurant?
Now, of course, Heaven wanted to kick herself for not going straight back to the hotel right after dinner. But if this guy wanted to spook her tonight, or was being paid to spook her tonight, he must have had a plan for the hotel, too. Heaven felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of her neck. She usually never broke a sweat, not even in the kitchen on a hot Saturday night.
She made a dash for the door, looking for a security guard. There was one standing by the cash-in booths and she made for him and turned to pinpoint her man.
Heaven grabbed the guard’s hand. “Thank God you’re here. My ex-husband,” she pointed at the attacker, who still hadn’t seen her, “is here looking for me. He said he’d kill me if I gambled again. He’s a religious fanatic and I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he sees me. I’m leaving, but please don’t let him follow me.”
“Where is he?” the guard asked gruffly.
Heaven pointed. “Right over there. The one with the gray windbreaker.” As Heaven pointed, she knew she’d screwed up. Her excited energy flowing toward the man made him turn in their direction. He started toward them instinctively, then saw the guard. He paused and Heaven turned and ran toward the door.
“Help me,” she shouted over her shoulder in the guard’s direction.
Heaven stopped just once to look over her shoulder. She saw what she had feared. The guard was standingempty-handed in the middle of the room, hands on hips, looking around. Her man, as she now thought of him, was nowhere in sight.
She slipped off her high heels and took off running down Poydras toward St. Charles, past the new W hotel, past Mother’s. She wasn’t a runner and by the time she got to St. Charles she thought her lungs were going to burst. The St. Charles streetcar pulled up to its stop right across the street. Heaven grabbed some of her quarters and got on.
The trip out St. Charles was painstakingly slow. At every stop, Heaven debated getting off. At every stop, Heaven was sure her man would walk up the steps and in the door of the streetcar. She looked around. There were other people with her, it wasn’t just her and the driver. Most of them looked like hotel and restaurant workers going home. She wasn’t sure when the last run was but she thought it was around midnight, which must be soon.
She checked her money. With what she’d had before and the quarters, she had forty-seven dollars and a credit card. She thought about getting off at Tulane University, or by the gates to Audubon Place, where Mary and Truely lived. But then she would have to get to their house and it was way down on the other end of the street. Plus it was gated and what if they’d gone back to the Napoleon House for a nightcap and the guard called and the Whittens weren’t home?
The streetcar lurched on and that option was behind her in the dark New Orleans night before Heaven realized that she could just ask the guard to call the police. She was mad at herself that, with all the times she’d seen them, she hadn’t asked for the business cards of the two patrol officers who always showed up at the convent. Shedidn’t have the name of a police officer who might be familiar with the trouble she seemed to be involved in.
Heaven changed seats several times, peeking out on each side of the avenue. Now she went to the back of the car, half expecting her tormentor to be running behind the streetcar. When it slowed to turn onto South Carrollton, she decided enough was enough. She put her high heels on, pulled the buzzer and got out. Just across the street was the famous
Now, of course, Heaven wanted to kick herself for not going straight back to the hotel right after dinner. But if this guy wanted to spook her tonight, or was being paid to spook her tonight, he must have had a plan for the hotel, too. Heaven felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of her neck. She usually never broke a sweat, not even in the kitchen on a hot Saturday night.
She made a dash for the door, looking for a security guard. There was one standing by the cash-in booths and she made for him and turned to pinpoint her man.
Heaven grabbed the guard’s hand. “Thank God you’re here. My ex-husband,” she pointed at the attacker, who still hadn’t seen her, “is here looking for me. He said he’d kill me if I gambled again. He’s a religious fanatic and I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he sees me. I’m leaving, but please don’t let him follow me.”
“Where is he?” the guard asked gruffly.
Heaven pointed. “Right over there. The one with the gray windbreaker.” As Heaven pointed, she knew she’d screwed up. Her excited energy flowing toward the man made him turn in their direction. He started toward them instinctively, then saw the guard. He paused and Heaven turned and ran toward the door.
“Help me,” she shouted over her shoulder in the guard’s direction.
Heaven stopped just once to look over her shoulder. She saw what she had feared. The guard was standingempty-handed in the middle of the room, hands on hips, looking around. Her man, as she now thought of him, was nowhere in sight.
She slipped off her high heels and took off running down Poydras toward St. Charles, past the new W hotel, past Mother’s. She wasn’t a runner and by the time she got to St. Charles she thought her lungs were going to burst. The St. Charles streetcar pulled up to its stop right across the street. Heaven grabbed some of her quarters and got on.
The trip out St. Charles was painstakingly slow. At every stop, Heaven debated getting off. At every stop, Heaven was sure her man would walk up the steps and in the door of the streetcar. She looked around. There were other people with her, it wasn’t just her and the driver. Most of them looked like hotel and restaurant workers going home. She wasn’t sure when the last run was but she thought it was around midnight, which must be soon.
She checked her money. With what she’d had before and the quarters, she had forty-seven dollars and a credit card. She thought about getting off at Tulane University, or by the gates to Audubon Place, where Mary and Truely lived. But then she would have to get to their house and it was way down on the other end of the street. Plus it was gated and what if they’d gone back to the Napoleon House for a nightcap and the guard called and the Whittens weren’t home?
The streetcar lurched on and that option was behind her in the dark New Orleans night before Heaven realized that she could just ask the guard to call the police. She was mad at herself that, with all the times she’d seen them, she hadn’t asked for the business cards of the two patrol officers who always showed up at the convent. Shedidn’t have the name of a police officer who might be familiar with the trouble she seemed to be involved in.
Heaven changed seats several times, peeking out on each side of the avenue. Now she went to the back of the car, half expecting her tormentor to be running behind the streetcar. When it slowed to turn onto South Carrollton, she decided enough was enough. She put her high heels on, pulled the buzzer and got out. Just across the street was the famous
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