Jazz Funeral

Somehow, she couldn’t see these two braving the rolling sea of humanity for such a busman’s holiday.
    She hated to give O’Rourke any credit, but did Ti-Belle have the same idea Skip did? To track Melody down at the Boucrees’ performance? If ever Skip knew anyone had a gun, she knew Ti-Belle did. Maybe it was in her belly pack. In crowds like they’d be in, she could get within inches of Melody, shoot her, and melt away, just another straw hat and pair of khaki shorts. But what about Nick? He’d gone with her to buy the gun, but she could have given him some half-baked reason for needing it. Maybe she’d said her father had a brother who’d come gunning for her.
    Sure enough, Ti-Belle dropped Nick off at a friend’s. He opened the trunk, unloaded golf clubs, and kissed her good-bye. She drove straight to the fairgrounds.
    Skip’s heart was pounding. It wasn’t going to be easy, keeping anyone in sight in these crowds. Where were the Boucrees scheduled to play? She’d left her program in the car and couldn’t stop to get another or she’d lose her quarry. At first Ti-Belle moseyed like she didn’t have a thing on her mind, even standing in line for a rosemint tea. Then she started walking fast, cutting across to Congo Square and then toward the WVUE/WNOE stage, the one at the opposite end from the Ray-Ban stage, the biggest and most important—the one, now that she thought of it, where the Boucrees were most likely to play. It wasn’t what she’d expected. If Ti-Belle was going after Melody, surely she’d expect her to be at the Boucrees’ set.
    “Skip!” She looked around. She was being videotaped by a playful Steve.
    “Goddammit!” It was all she could to keep from making childish obscene gestures. Later she thought perhaps it was only the thought of being taped that had kept her from it. “I haven’t got time for this,” she hollered, and looked around for Ti-Belle.
    She’d lost her.
    Seventy thousand people at the fairgrounds, and no Ti-Belle in sight. What were the odds of finding her again? She probably had a better chance of winning the lottery.
    “Shit! Fuck! Kill!” People were staring at her. She decided to keep going in the same direction.
    “Skip! Wait up!”
    “Shut up, goddammit!” What was he trying to do, get her to strangle him in front of half the world?
    He caught up. “What’s going on?”
    She didn’t stop, kept barreling through the crowd. “My assignment, in case you’ve forgotten, is keeping Ti-Belle in sight. I saw her buy a gun yesterday, have good reason to think she’s going to try to kill Melody, and thanks to you I’ve lost her.”
    “Oh, shit.”
    “I quite agree.”
    “Hey, wait. Is that her?”
    “Are you kidding? Is what her?”
    “Up there. In the hat.”
    She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Which of the thirty thousand hats in view would that be?”
    “Pink band. Matches her T-shirt.”
    “Yes! Where?”
    “Come on.” He threaded through the crowd, close enough that Skip spotted her. Ti-Belle was still headed toward the stage at the far end of the fairgrounds.
    “Who’s at that stage?” she asked Steve.
    “Dixie Cups? No, their set’s over. I can’t remember; I’ve got to tape the Boucrees.”
    “At the Ray-Ban stage?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Damn! Why can’t I be two people?” She should have called in another officer, and there was no time now. She couldn’t risk losing Ti-Belle again.
    “Can I help?”
    “If anybody gets killed, just get it on tape.” There was no point telling him to look for Melody. He couldn’t do that and do his job too.
    The band onstage was a hot pop group, judging from the huge crowd, but Skip didn’t know them. And didn’t like them particularly, couldn’t understand why a singer like Ti-Belle wanted to brave the crowds to hear them.
    Ti-Belle skirted the edges of the crowd, undoubtedly looking for the backstage entrance. Skip wasn’t quite sure what to do. She could follow by using her badge, but the backstage area, the marked-off spot for VP fans, was so small she’d be spotted. Or rather, there were so few people in there, she couldn’t hide in the crowd. The actual area was huge. You entered from the back, walked across a long green space, then ended up in front of the stage and slightly to the right, separated only from the hoi polloi by metal barricades. The barricades were close to the stage at the front, but extended about fifty feet on the three other sides. It