Out of Body

Chapter 23

Pearl Brite left Alexander’s by the side door into an alley. She liked singing to the afternoon crowd because the club manager said she kept a steady clientele showing up to hear her. But she wanted to move up. She wanted to be a headliner in one of the big clubs.

This was the dead time in New Orleans. Apart from the tourist shops, much of the city’s retail had closed up and although it was getting darker, the lights in the Quarter didn’t show up enough to work their magic.

She had been paid by check. Although she told Lenny she needed the cash, he said they couldn’t spare the change. That was a lie. He knew the banks were closed and figured he had a chance of floating what little she earned at least until tomorrow. Lenny was so tight with money she had to ask for hers every week, and he made her wait around until she was almost too embarrassed to stay at all.

It was past the point when she could ride her bike home before complete darkness fell, but she didn’t have the price of a cab. Her dad had a deal that she was always to call if she wasn’t sure she’d be safe on the trip home. He would get out his old Ford truck and drive to pick her up, peering over the steering wheel because even with glasses he didn’t see so well. They lived in Marigny, close to Kenner. She wanted her own place, but didn’t have the heart to leave her father completely on his own.

With the helmet her dad insisted she wore, Pearl walked toward the far end of the alley where she locked her bike in a rack pushed back in the covered entry to a mostly unused warehouse. The place kept the bikes out of easy sight and so far she’d been lucky enough not to have it stolen. A small, dark-colored van just about blocked the exit to the street, but she figured she could get past.

Mist started to turn into rain. She tipped up her face and smiled. Rain made the ride slower, but she didn’t mind—unless it got really dark.

The van’s engine turned over and the vehicle moved toward her, but very slowly. Pearl waved and pointed toward the warehouse. The driver gave his horn a light tap and waved at her out of his window. He stopped on the other side of the entrance.

Pearl kept going, anxious to get started toward home. A hot bath and whatever her dad had made for dinner was a friendly beacon to head for.

She broke into a run, not wanting to keep the van driver waiting.

Her dad would be mad when she turned up after dark, but she could always talk him around.

Traffic on the cross street passed with a steady hum, the headlights starting to shine on wet pavement.

Pearl glanced at the van when she veered left to get her bike, but she couldn’t see the driver through the windshield. Just the same, she waved again and mouthed, “Thank you for waiting.”

The building doors, almost always shut, were wide-open. Usually Pearl didn’t like that because she couldn’t see very far into the gloom. This evening a light shone just inside. Just as well since someone had shoved the bike rack inside, complete with her bike.

She checked over her shoulder, expecting to see the van drive on, but it stayed where it was.

Her stomach tightened and sweat popped out along her hairline. This was no place for people who scared easily. She’d get going and take the main streets rather than the smaller, more deserted ones that were her shortcut.

Although the warehouse wasn’t huge, it was big enough and it didn’t make sense that it was completely empty. Empty with the doors open, a light on and heavy shadows blanketing all but the area closest to Pearl.

As usual, the padlock key had hidden itself among the small things in the bottom of her bag. She felt around but finally held the zip wide-open and peered inside.

The light went out.

The purse slipped through her fingers.

Pearl turned toward the doors, just in time to see them swing shut. Blackness saturated everything.

She dropped to her knees, searching for her bag—and heard a sound, like breaths passing in and out through an off-key harmonica.

Two fiery red gashes bobbled toward her.