The Axeman's Jazz

Banners with skulls and crossed axes hung like bunting from the balconies. Jazz blared. Camera crews crawled merrily through the streets, taping, interviewing, shining lights, stirring up excitement. Vendors hawked not only T-shirts but rubber axes, souvenir plastic clarinets, saxophones, complete ceramic jazz bands, and theatrical blood, which was also in evidence on plenty of jolly celebrants. The T-shirts said festive things like I SURVIVED THE AX ATTACK and THEY ALL AXED FOR YOU . It beat hell out of Mardi Gras.
    It was the music that was responsible, and a little bit the impromptu, outlaw, defiant nature of the thing. A kind of people’s JazzFest overlaid with black humor.
    But Skip’s mood darkened as Alex headed Uptown. She had an uneasy feeling about the route they were taking. Her horror mounted as he turned onto a familiar street. Jesus! She was right. They were going to Cookie Lamoreaux’s. How on earth did those two know each other?
    “Alex, I’ve really got to pee. See you inside, okay?” She jumped off the hog and left him to secure it, O’Rourke to take over if he got on it and split. She would know lots of people here, stood a major chance of getting her cover blown.
    Sure enough, Cookie himself, three sheets to the wind, was standing on the porch trying to get a breath of air. The evening was so close she wished him luck. The sounds of a full and very good jazz band emanated from the old house.
    “Detective Langdon! I’ve been waiting for you.”
    She put a finger to her lips, raced up the stairs, kissed him on the mouth, and whispered, “I’m not a cop tonight, okay? Pass the word. It’s important, Cookie. Pretty please.”
    “Kojak! You undercover or something? This sounds serious.”
    “It is.”
    “You mean the Axeman’s here? At Chez Lamoreaux its l’il ol’ self? Fabulous, Officer. Just fabulous. You mean we’re at the Axeman party?” He thought a minute. “But he can’t be. We got the band and everything.”
    “Cookie, I’m not kidding. Here comes my date and he just can’t know. Listen, I’ll owe you. I’ll do something big for you. I’ll fix all your tickets.” The way she fixed Conrad’s.
    “Listen, Marcelle’s here.”
    “You’ve got to tell her, Cookie. You’ve got to warn her. You’ve got to warn everybody.”
    “We’ve got a surprise for you.” He looked crestfallen.
    “Here he comes, dammit.”
    Cookie hollered, “Hey, Big Al!” To Skip he said, “Big Al’s your date? You’re dating that guy?”
    Alex was upon them. “Cookie! Whereyat?”
    The two guys gave each other high five, followed by further complicated hand maneuvers.
    Marcelle Gautier appeared at the door, singsonging in the high, thin voice usually reserved for children. “Skippy! I’ve got a surprise for yooooouuuu!”
    Skip slipped quickly in the door, hoping Cookie would distract Alex for a few minutes more.
    “Marcelle, listen…”
    But she wasn’t about to listen. She stepped aside to reveal her surprise—an eager-looking Steve Steinman. Skip nearly fell apart, she was so glad to see him—and so horrified.
    She could only stutter: “Steve … what…”
    “Muhammed came to the mountain,” he said.
    “Gosh, I’m glad to see you.”
    He opened his arms for a bear hug, but he wasn’t getting any hello kiss—not yet. She found his ear instead of his mouth. “Listen, I’m working. The guy I’m with is a suspect.” She knew she shouldn’t have said it, but there didn’t seem any other way. “How are you at keeping a secret?”
    “You mean I didn’t come all the way from California just to see you?”
    “Right. And if I hang on him and act interested, it’s for a good cause, okay?”
    “No.”
    “And I’m definitely not a police officer.”
    “When can I see you?”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “No good.”
    “You won’t be here?”
    ”I will. But it’s not soon enough.”
    Alex came in then and suddenly she felt angry. This was no time to be conducting a love affair. She introduced the men, watched them bristle at each other—it was hate at first sight, and Skip didn’t think it was because of jealousy. It had more to do with Alex’s being a jerk and Steve’s not hiding the fact that he’d deduced it.
    “I need a drink,” Alex said, looking thirstily toward the bar. Though he’d barely touched her all evening, he chose that moment to grab her butt by way of good-bye. And off he strode, not offering drinks to anyone else.
    “Nice date,” said