Murder in the Rue Dauphine by Greg Herren

Author:Greg Herren [Herren, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: mystery, detective, New Orleans, gay
ISBN: 9781602827349
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2012-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Jarrett Phillips’s office was on Frenchmen Street in the Faubourg Marigny, the neighborhood on the other side of Esplanade from the Quarter. Paige calls the Marigny the poor man’s Quarter: The architecture is much the same, and bars, restaurants, and businesses mix in with private homes. A few years ago the Marigny was dangerous after dark, but then the neighborhood started to make a comeback. Some streets were still unsafe, but for the most part the Marigny was turning into a beautiful place to live.

Jarrett’s office was on Washington Park. The building was a double camelback. Jarrett lived in half of the bottom and the upstairs. The other half served as the office for Gay Rights Now! I’d never been to his office. The house looked beautiful from the outside. The emerald-green paint looked fresh enough to still smell new. The lawn was immaculate. In the driveway beside the house sat a sky-blue Miata convertible with a vanity plate that read GAYRITZ. I’m sure it stood for Gay Rights. I’m sure most people thought it said Gay Ritz. From the looks of the house, they wouldn’t be far off.

I walked up the steps. I rang the doorbell on the left side. Most camelbacks were based on the right side. “Yes?” a voice came out of the intercom next to the bell.

“Chanse MacLeod. I have a 2 o’clock appointment.”

“I’ll buzz you in.”

There was a buzz. I pushed. I stepped into a room almost the temperature of my refrigerator. It was painted deep royal blue. Several black-and-white prints of artistic male and female nudes hung on the walls. I don’t think I would’ve gone with that kind of art choice for a gay nonprofit. Then again, it wasn’t my office. There were a couple of file cabinets, an overstuffed sofa that matched the walls, a glass and brass coffee table, and a huge oak desk. On a credenza behind the desk was a coffeemaker. A woman wearing khaki slacks, a black silk blouse open to show cleavage, and heels came around the desk. She wore dangling jet-black earrings to match her jet-black hair, which was immaculately styled. She looked to be about 5 foot 10. She reached up to kiss my cheek.

“It’s good to see you again, Chanse.” She smiled. Pearly white teeth flashed.

“Yvonne?”

She danced around in a circle. “I clean up pretty good, don’t I?”

I’d never known her last name. She was a lesbian who bartended at the Pub on weekends. I’d never seen her in anything except a sleeveless Pub T-shirt and cutoffs. She was one of the best bartenders in the Quarter. “You not slinging cocktails anymore?”

“On the weekends,” she said. “Can’t give up that money. But I believe in what we’re doing here.” She grinned. “Pay’s not bad either. I’ll tell Jarrett you’re here.” She went through a door.

I picked up a copy of The Advocate. Another straight movie star playing gay onscreen was on the cover. Big deal. Like we have two heads or something. Like playing gay was such a huge acting challenge.

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