The Girl on Prytania Street Read online

  “That a girl. I’ll send him up in a few.” She left and shut the door behind her. I glanced out the window again and for a second was tempted to try to escape again. I mentally scolded myself and headed into the bathroom. After a quick shower, I brushed my teeth and reached for Sylvia’s emergency kit. I chose a bright green button-down dress from the closet and glanced briefly into the full-length mirror. It was the second day I had managed to groom and dress myself properly. It was a baby step, but perhaps it was a sign of progress. I was tempted to pop another pill, but instead reached for some water and waited for the detective. A sturdy knock on the door interrupted my endless cycle of questions and answers.

  I answered the door and plastered on my brightest smile. “Hello! Detective Ryan! What brings you to New Orleans?”

  “Kate, you look good.” He gave me a once over genuinely surprised to see that it was me.

  “Oh, you know, the heat, it does wonders for the complexion.”

  “Right, can I come in?”

  “Sure.” I stepped aside and let him into the room.

  The detective sat down on one of the antique chairs. I took the seat across from him. For a few seconds, we stared at each other. He was trying to read my mind, gauge my mood.

  “What is this about?” I asked finally breaking the silence. “Have you found any new information regarding Zoe?”

  “Jay Simmons is dead,” he said ignoring my question.

  “Dead? How? What happened? I thought he was in police custody.”

  “Do you happen to know anything about his death?” He once again ignored my questions and peered at me with his serious eyes. His gaze unnerved me. It was if he could read my mind. I couldn’t lie if I wanted to.

  “I’ve been here, you know that. How could I have flown back to New York, broken into his cell and killed the bastard?” I didn’t mean to use that word, but this wasn’t sad news. I couldn’t even pretend to be sorry that he was dead. After what he had done, he deserved what had happened. Maybe the universe did have a way of working things out.

  “I’ve spoken to your husband. He claimed that you were attempting to hire a hit man, trying to talk him into agreeing with you.”

  Shit. How could Richard betray me like this? I thought he would at least keep his mouth shut. “It was a joke. I was upset over the pictures and was so angry. I felt so helpless. I admit that I had entertained the thought, but I didn’t actually go through with it.”

  “And the threats, you posted as comments on Jay’s Instagram account, was that a joke as well?”

  “Threats? What threats?”

  “Right here.” He handed me an iPad open to Jay’s Instagram page. Below each of his pictures was the hashtag #youwilldie. The comments had been posted by my username.

  “I don’t remember doing that,” I said.

  “You don’t remember posting these comments? Well, that is your username and unless your account was hacked, it was you who posted these comments. Has your account been hacked?”

  I reached for my phone hoping that some demented person with the same username had randomly posted death threats on other people’s pages as well. No luck. There were several comments made on Richard’s page and Jay’s page by my username. I tried to piece together the events of yesterday and struggled to remember what I had done before I had gone out for Mexican with Chris. I had the session with Mrs. Dubois and then there had been that unfortunate incident with Nigel and then …

  “Well? Was it you?”

  “I don’t remember doing this,” I confessed. “I don’t remember posting these threats.”

  “I see.” He scribbled something down on his notepad and then continued to study me with his expressionless face. “You tend to do a lot of things that you don’t seem to remember, don’t you Kate?”

  “There are times I forget minor details but nothing major.”

  “What type of drugs are you taking?”

  Double shit. I was going to kill Richard.

  “I’m taking prescription drugs for ankle pain.”

  “How long have you been taking these drugs?”

  “For a few months?”

  “A few months?”

  It was a lie. I had been popping pills full time for exactly one year and six months, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “Yes, that’s right. Once my ankle gets better, I’ll stop. You can ask my doctor if you’d like.” I would send him to Dr. Phil who ran a sketchy medical practice in Queens. He was the latest name on my doctor shopping list. To save his own ass, he would easily cover for me.

  “No, that’s alright. Would you consider yourself a violent person?”

  “If you’re referring to the incident with Zoe and her broken arm, you know that was an accident. I’m not a violent person. I’ve never hurt anyone.”

  “Now, that’s not exactly true, is it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you attempt to beat a man to death yesterday?”

  “How do you know about Nigel?”

  “I ran into him in the lobby. He’s an ex of yours, isn’t he? He said that you two broke up because you had a temper. He claimed that he tried to calm you down yesterday, said you were upset. He was trying to be a good Samaritan when you snapped and hit him repeatedly with an alarm clock.”

  “He’s lying!”

  “So you didn’t try to beat him to death with an alarm clock?”

  “He tried to rape me! I defended myself. If I wanted to beat him to death, I would have hit him over the head and not his back. I let him off easy. If you must know the truth, our whole so-called relationship was a joke. He used his position of power to control me, to use me, to break me. I admit I was upset yesterday and it was stupid of me to trust him again and blindly follow him into his room …” How could I expose Nigel for something that had happened so long ago? How could I justify walking into his room yesterday? I knew that it would come down to a battle of he said and she said. Given his level of fame, who would the police really believe?

  The detective didn’t show a reaction. He continued to scribble in his notepad. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I never said that, I’m simply trying to view this from all possible angles. What made you upset enough to follow him into his room especially after the history you two share?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t completely justify it. I was upset. I needed comfort. Investigating the Dubois case reminds me of how much I miss Zoe. It fills my head with possibilities of what may’ve happened to her and where she may be. I was feeling especially vulnerable when I ran into him. I saw a familiar face and in a moment of weakness forgot all the bad blood we shared.”

  “What happened after you followed Nigel into his room?”

  “He offered me a drink. I refused, but he insisted so I accepted. He has a way with words that wants to make you agree with everything he says; I guess that’s why he’s one of the most famous writers in the world. You can arrest me for stupidity if you like, but nothing more.”

  “What happened next?”

  “We drank, and I opened up to him about Zoe. He listened. He’s a good listener and the next thing I knew he was kissing me.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I kissed him back …” That didn’t sound good.

  “So it was a mutual kiss?”

  “Yes, but what happened next wasn’t.”

  “And what was that?”

  “He forced himself on me and I defended myself.”

  “Like you defended yourself against Jay Simmons?”

  The question lingered in the air. It was loaded, heavy, and full of implications.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kate

  I was tempted to say no, but it was another memory that was still fresh in my mind. This particular incident had taken place a few weeks after Zoe had disappeared, but it felt like it had happened yesterday. I thought back to that day.

  “Can I help you?” asked a teenager who was stocking the shelv
es.

  I had been walking up and down the grocery aisles endlessly looking for nothing in particular. My basket was full of items that I didn’t need such as an extra-large can of bug spray, tomato paste, cat litter. “Just looking.”

  “Right, well, if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Sure.” My eyes were fixed on the cash register and on Jay Simmons. He was tall, dark, and handsome. I could see why Zoe fell for him. I had been watching him for weeks now. His shift was almost over. I paid for my items and waited in the parking lot. He emerged from the double doors and I had chased after him. The air was cold, my hands were freezing, but I was oblivious to the fact that I was wearing nothing but a flimsy T-shirt. “Hey you!” I yelled.

  He turned around. “Do I know you?” he asked innocently as if he didn’t know.

  “You know my daughter.”

  “Your daughter? Who would that be?”

  “Zoe Givens.”

  “You’re Zoe’s mom? I’m so sorry for your current struggle, Zoe and I were good friends. She is a special girl. Our book club got me through some of the darkest times of my life. I started a search group for her. I believe that we’ll find her real soon. Here take this.” He handed me a flyer. It had Zoe’s face plastered on it. She was wearing her favorite hat, the one with the electric purple pom pom on it. His brown eyes were wide and sympathetic almost as if he believed the words that he was saying. I stared at the flyer and anger washed over me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the pictures I had found on Zoe’s laptop.

  “Nah, I don’t think you’re sorry,” I said the words that had been trapped inside me for weeks.

  “Excuse me?” He gave me that innocent, wide-eyed stare and it only enraged me more. He should have been enrolled in the academy of arts for acting.

  “I said I don’t think that you’re sorry.” I ripped up the flyer. It flew away into the winter air.

  “Hey, Mrs. Givens, it’s okay, you’re not alone in your struggles, but don’t get angry at the wrong man. As Aristotle famously put it, anybody can become angry—that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way—that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.”

  The little bastard had the nerve to throw Aristotle quotes at me. I met fire with fire. “Plato once said that there are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help, and what they cannot. Perhaps he had a point.”

  “That’s the spirit, Mrs. Givens. There is no point in us arguing with one another.” He placed his arms around my shoulders and attempted to comfort me. It was a gesture that would have melted the heart of any sane person, but I hadn’t been thinking straight. I hadn’t eaten or slept for days. “I’m sorry,” I said letting him hold me.

  “It’s okay, we’re going to find her.”

  “Say a little prayer with me, will you?” I asked closing my eyes.

  “Sure.” He was so trusting, which made me doubt my accusations and beliefs that he was the one responsible for Zoe’s disappearance.

  I started to say the only prayer I knew, the one my mom used to say every morning. I opened one eye to make sure that Jay’s eyes were shut tight. They were. I reached into the plastic grocery bag and slowly took out the mega can of bug spray while continuing to recite the prayer. I brought it to Jay’s head and whacked him hard.

  “What the!?” He let go of me and screamed in pain not quite aware of what had happened. I took the opportunity to smack him again.

  “You bastard! You bastard!” I screamed over and over again as I continued to hit him.

  He finally backed away. Visibly shaken, he stared at me with his mouth wide open. A gash had opened on his forehead and a spot of bright red blood had started to seep through. Despite his pain, he was calm. “I know you’re hurting, Mrs. Givens, but violence is never the answer. I grew up in an abusive household. My dad used to lay it on my mom for just about anything. You hurt me, but I’m not going to hurt you back. I’m going to love you even if I have to do it from afar. Have a good day, Mrs. Givens. My search for Zoe will continue.”

  “Kate?” Detective Ryan’s voice cut through the memory.

  “Sorry, I was thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Jay Simmons.”

  “Well, did you attack him?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “According to the video footage that the parking lot camera caught, it didn’t look like an accident. It looked like you were attempting to beat him to death. I believe that you would have done it if he hadn’t walked away, isn’t that true.”

  The room became hotter and I was conscious of the fact that the humidity was thick. I felt the beads of sweat as they started to form on my forehead. “That’s not true.” It was so true. I would have murdered him then and there on that very spot if he had allowed me to. Silly bastard wanted to live. He chose life and what pissed me off even more was that he refused to press charges.

  “Kate, your phone records show that you contacted various hit men last night. In fact, you also transferred Bitcoin funds to one their accounts.”

  “No, I didn’t!” I protested. “I would have remembered if I had done that.”

  “The records don’t lie. Here take a look.” He handed me a pile of papers. They listed all of my web history from the previous night, including the fact that I had transferred Bitcoin funds to Dmitri’s account.

  “I don’t remember doing this,” I said. “My phone was hacked.”

  “We’ve been over this already. Your phone was not hacked. Confess already and we can both get on with our lives.”

  “I didn’t do it. As I said, I entertained the thought of hiring a hit man. You can’t arrest me for thought crime. Like you always said innocent until proven guilty, right?”

  He stared at me. His expression wasn’t hard or mistrusting, it was neutral and that in itself was terrifying. “Well, you’re lucky that this Dmitri character only gets the job done after receiving half of the payment, never only a quarter, so we know it wasn’t him.”

  I let a giant sigh of relief. I eyed my purse and mentally envisioned the things I would do once the detective left the room. “There you have it. I didn’t do it.”

  “I never said that. I think that you’re capable of much more than you let on. This grieving mother act is a role that you’re using to disguise the ruthless monster that lurks under the surface, isn’t it Kate? Those pills you’re popping alter your moods, don’t they?”

  How did he know that? How did he know about the massive mood swings, the blackouts, the lack of reason, and the inability to distinguish right from wrong? The constant ups and downs that accompanied the sweet escape the pills provided were almost not worth it. “All prescription medicine comes with side effects, detective.”

  “I think that there is more to the story. I think that you were taking those pills long before Zoe disappeared. Maybe you’re the one responsible for her disappearance and you simply don’t remember.”

  My blood froze at his outlandish suggestions and accusations. “You’re wrong. It didn’t happen that way. I started taking the pills after Zoe disappeared because I sprained my ankle.”

  “You have a history of addiction, don’t you? According to Nigel, cocaine was your choice of drug when you were dating.”

  “That was only because he was the one who got me addicted. I was trying to please him. He was older, more experienced, and worldly. I thought that if I did what he did that he would love me. I was messed up, I admit, but who doesn’t make mistakes in their twenties? I cleaned up when I met Richard.”

  “Maybe you didn’t, maybe you hid your addiction so well that he didn’t realize that you were using. Maybe you fooled him. Maybe you even fooled yourself.”

  “Shut-up! Shut-up!” I got up from the chair and reached for the massive antique vase that rested on the dresser. I smashed it hard against the full-length mirror and watched in satisfaction as p
ieces of china and glass merged together and crashed against the hardwood floor. The detective’s expression was still neutral as if unimpressed by my little show.

  “Well, I think I’ve seen enough,” he said as he rose from the chair and closed his notepad. “I’ll show myself out. I’ll get in touch with you real soon,” he said as he left.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I grabbed my purse and popped a pill.

  “Kate, are you in there? The session is about to begin. I’ll see you in the lobby.”

  “Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.” I studied the pile of glass and china. I reached for a piece of glass and brought it to my wrist. I had read somewhere that slicing your wrists was one of the most painful ways to go. I estimated how long it would take me to bleed out and how many pills I would need to pop in order for the process to be as painless as possible.

  I was about to do the deed when I thought about Zoe. The detective could accuse me all he wanted, but I knew that I would never hurt my daughter. I would never willingly put her in any type of danger. I thought of how she would react to seeing me this way. What she would think of me contemplating slicing my wrists. She wouldn’t have approved. I felt her presence in the room and for a split second could hear her voice. “Mom, you’re too epic to commit suicide. That wouldn’t be a very poetic death. It would be sad. Just sad. Your death should be the stuff of legends not so common. You have to choose to live, Mom. Choose to live.”

  I threw the piece of glass in the trash can and grabbed my notepad.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kate

  I sat in the lobby waiting for Madame Queenie to make an appearance. I was somewhere between the land of sweet numbness and paranoia replying the conversation I just had with Detective Ryan in my head on repeat mode. I stared at the paintings on the wall. A picture of a young man with a smug expression and bright green eyes held my attention. What crimes had he committed? Who had he hurt? What secrets did he conceal under that calm exterior? What had happened to him? Did he pray like a maniac on his deathbed pleading to make it into heaven? Did he do things that he didn’t remember? What was his biggest addiction? How had it all ended for him?