“Is that all you got?” asked Jesse.
“Nope. Here’s one to add to the humiliation pile. Not only am I the daughter of a prostitute, I’m named after one. Josie Arlington, brothel madam, had a five-dollar house on Basin Street. For an extra fee, she offered some kind of French sex circus. And I’m named after her.”
“Ding!” Jesse hit a nonexistent bell in front of us. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a match. The two kids both have hand-me-down names of the ill repute.” Jesse turned to me. “But actually, I win. You’re named after a madam. I’m named after a murderer. So mine’s worse.”
My mouth fell open.
“Yeah, my criminal of a father named me Jesse, after Jesse James. Told me to grow up a good outlaw and live up to my name. I tell ya, I really hope that my father never meets your mother.”
“Have you ever thought of changing your name?”
“Nah, Jesse Thierry is who I am.”
“I want to change mine. Willie said I should change my last name.”
“Last name might be a good idea, but don’t change Josie,” he said.
“No?”
“Nope.” He fiddled with a knob on the dash. “I like the way it feels when I say it.”
The cuff on Jesse’s white dress shirt was open at the wrist. I reached for it and slowly began folding it back. He stared at my hands as they touched his forearm. My fingers didn’t ball into a fist, just trailed lightly up and down his skin. He looked at me. I looked right back.
“Okay,” I said. “Your turn. What don’t I know about Jesse Thierry?”
“What don’t you know?” Jesse slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Maybe that I really wanna kiss you right now.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
“We don’t have a choice. Willie’s attorney has requested us. He has questions,” I said.
“Well, it makes me nervous,” said Cokie. “I don’t want to go sittin’ with no lawyer rattlin’ ’bout Willie. Willie never liked no one talkin’ ’bout her business, and I ain’t about to start now, even if she gone. So I’m not sayin’ nothin’. We’ll let Sadie do all the talkin’.”
Sadie reached forward from the back of the cab and swatted Cokie across the side of the head. Sadie was nervous too. She and Cokie both had their church clothes on and had been bickering since we got in the cab. I was more than nervous, but not about the attorney. The law office was in the Hibernia Bank Building, one floor below John Lockwell’s office. Just the thought of him brought bile to the back of my throat. I had pushed the meeting with the attorney back two weeks but couldn’t delay it any longer.
We walked into the lobby, and I fished the letter out of my purse. Cokie looked over my shoulder.
“Edward Rosenblatt, Esquire. Sounds well-to-do. Willie wouldn’t be messin’ with no ritzy lawyer.”
I shushed him, and we all got in the elevator.
Inside, I felt the same as Cokie. Willie wouldn’t mess with a bank, so she certainly wouldn’t do business with some rich lawyer. I had made a vow. I wasn’t going to reveal anything about Willie. They could torture me, threaten me, I wouldn’t do it. Don’t worry, Willie, I won’t let the vultures in.
We arrived on the seventh floor. Cokie pulled off his cap and began kneading it through his hands. He and Sadie stood back near the elevator. I approached the desk and told the receptionist we had arrived for our appointment. Within minutes, a woman appeared.
“Mr. Rosenblatt will see you now.”
I waved Cokie and Sadie forward. We walked through a maze of typists. Sadie’s eyes were as round as pancakes, taking in the upscale business environment. The woman directed us to an office. Three chairs were placed in front of a long desk.
“Mr. Rosenblatt will be right with you. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Cokie didn’t want to sit down. I gave him the evil eye and pointed to a chair. The office was lovely, with oak paneling and a large wall of bookshelves with impressive sets of law volumes. Sadie nudged my arm and pointed to two pictures in sterling frames—one of an older woman, the other a photo of a large family.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” An elegant gentleman with gray hair entered the room and shut the door behind him. He had round spectacles and looked like the type who would smoke a pipe while watching polo matches. I thought I recognized him from the funeral.
“I’m Ed Rosenblatt. You must be Mr. Coquard?” He extended his hand to Cokie for a handshake. “And you must be Miss Moraine and Miss Vibert. A pleasure to meet you.” He walked around to his desk and sat down in the tufted leather chair. He pulled a file folder in front of him. “Let’s get started then, shall we?” He looked up at us and smiled. It seemed genuine, warm.
“First, Miss Vibert, I’m aware of your vocal affliction, so I’ll keep our exchanges as direct as possible. I’d like to offer my condolences to all of you. I’m sure you’re quite bereaved over Willie’s passing.”
“Yes, sir, I am,” said Cokie. “So I don’t mean no disrespect, but I don’t want to be asked about Willie’s private business. She wouldn’t have it.” Sadie nodded emphatically.
Mr. Rosenblatt looked from Cokie to Sadie and finally to me.
“Willie was a very private person, and we’d like to honor that,” I explained.
“I think your loyalty is exactly why you’re here. Let me explain something. I’ve known Willie since I was four years old. We came up together in the Quarter, along with Dr. Sully and a few others. In fact, when I was five, I decided that I wanted to marry Willie, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She called me Rosie and said I was a fancy pants. She said instead of marriage, she’d like to be in business with me because she thought I was smart. You can imagine her at five years old, hand on her hip, finger in my face, making this business arrangement, can’t you?”
I smiled. I could absolutely imagine it, the spicy little girl I saw in the photo hidden at Shady Grove.
“So there we were. Willie, Sully, and Rosie, a French Quarter version of the Three Musketeers.” The attorney placed his hands on the desk. “But something happened when we were about twelve. Willie changed. She would do anything to keep from going home. Sully and I suspected her father.”
I thought of Willie telling me that fathers were overrated, that mine was probably some creep.
Mr. Rosenblatt continued. “She started to run with a rough crowd. We drifted apart as we got older. Sully went off to med school, I went off to law school, and Willie opened for business. We lost touch for a while, mainly because Sully and I were frightened by the road Willie was taking. Then twenty-five years ago on New Year’s Eve, Sully and I were having dinner with our wives. Willie sauntered right up to the table and asked Sully if he still had her slingshot. She said she needed to use it on some idiot in the restaurant. It was as if we were all ten years old again.” Mr. Rosenblatt smiled, reflecting. “There’s something about childhood bonds, I guess. I’ve been working with Willie ever since.”
We all stared at him.
“I’m her estate planner,” he added for clarification. “I know this is a lot to digest.”
“I guess . . . I just can’t imagine Willie as a child,” said Cokie.
Mr. Rosenblatt pulled a file folder from the bottom drawer. He handed us a tarnished photo of three kids standing in Jackson Square. Willie was in the center, making a muscle with her right arm.
Cokie whistled through his teeth. “Well, look at that. She looks like she could beat the devil outta both of you.”
“She did,” said the attorney. “Got the scars to prove it.” He put the photo away. “As you know, Willie was a smart, organized woman. She enjoyed her money during her life and spent much of what she earned. She wasn’t a saver and didn’t trust banks, so it’s not a large estate. I won’t waste your time going through pages of legal jargon. It’s quite simple. Willie appointed Miss Moraine the executor, and the assets will be distributed as follows: the house on Conti will become the joint property of Mr. Coquard and Miss Vibert—”