The Axeman's Jazz

that woman from? I didn’t come all the way here from California just to meet someone dippier than my next-door neighbor, Rainbow Circle Melamed-Gutierrez, who is not, no matter what you’re thinking, the unfortunate offspring of two unacquainted burnouts who got it on at Altamont and never saw each other again, but a plump, cheerful fifty-five-year-old with hair three feet out on all sides, talons from acrylic heaven, four inches of makeup, and crystals down to her knees. She’s a ‘personal effectiveness coach’ who never eats anything with eyes and also happens to channel the entity Michael. Do you know what she told me?”
    “Rainbow?”
    “No, Di. I complimented her driving and she said she was a race car driver in another life. So I mentioned that if she was, her career must have gone up in flames, so to speak, since she’d have to have died about the time cars were invented in order to have time to get reincarnated and live to whatever age she is now. You know what she said to that?”
    “Something about linear time and real time, I bet.”
    “You got it. She could be a race car driver right now, as a matter of fact, and probably is. It’s just in a parallel universe.” He shook his head like a wet dog. “So how long does she say I stayed?”
    “She was having so much fun she lost track of time.”
    “If she really meant to go out and murder that girl, why didn’t she just go do it? She saw Abe staying with Nini, she knew the coast was clear then—why ask me over for tea?”
    “How do I know? Maybe coltsfoot tea makes her homicidal. Maybe she only kills when she’s sexually frustrated. Cindy Lou’s the motive expert, not me.”
    “Cindy Lou? The smart woman who came to coffee?”
    “I love you. You know that?”
Okay, I’ve done it. I’ve said the L word.
    “Huh? Isn’t this a weird time to be getting romantic?”
    “You didn’t say ‘the beautiful woman who came to coffee.’ ”
    “Oh, is that all? What about the multifaceted Cindy Lou?”
    “I said she’s the motive expert—she’s a psychologist working on the case with us.”
    “Hey, come to think of it, something weird happened—Cindy Lou’s name just reminded me. I got to Di’s house first. I had to wait for fifteen minutes, and when she did show up, she was driving like the proverbial bat. That’s how the race car thing came up. She said Cindy Lou yelled at her and asked directions, and they got to talking and she couldn’t get away. I thought it sounded kind of thin.”
    “Oh, brother. First she strangles a kid and then she makes herself a nice cup of tea.”
    “A revolting cup of tea.”
    “Well, we can’t rule her out. She’s got—”
    “She’s got what?”
    Skip had almost said she had a criminal record, but remembered in time that it was none of Steve’s business. “She’s got my full attention, I’m afraid. Anyway, we can ask Cindy Lou if that happened.”
    First she canvassed Di’s neighbors, in case there was someone nosy in the building. Sure enough, Rosemary Scariano upstairs had heard Di come home with someone, had heard that person leave a few minutes later (had even taken a peek to see if he was cute), and in another few minutes had heard Di leave. But she’d turned on her TV after that and had no idea when Di came back.
    So Di had lied. She’s said she hadn’t gone out after she got back from PJ’s.
    Skip wondered how the killer had gotten in. It would have been easier for a woman. Much easier. What young girl would open the door to a man she didn’t know? But how about if a pretty woman showed up and said, “I’m Abe’s friend Wanda Jo and he’s right behind me in his car”? Who wouldn’t let her in?
    Miraculously, there was a bar across the street from Di’s apartment. Not that there weren’t bars on every corner, but this one, in view of the stifling weather, had its door flung open so that a person inside could sit at a comfortable table nursing a Diet Coke and stare at Di’s doorway till closing time. Which in New Orleans was never.
    Di apparently had a rented parking space at the hotel next door to her building. She had to go there and wait for the attendant to bring her car, which would give Skip plenty of time to get hers. She came out shortly before noon and went to the Perrier Club. Then she had lunch alone, went shopping for T-shirts, and drove to Mercy Hospital.
    Skip consulted her twelve-step schedules and noted there was a meeting there, which meant Di