Free Murder in the Rue Ursulines by Greg Herren Page B

the waitress my credit card, fumbling in her purse and handing over hers instead. “I want to treat, okay?” After the waitress had gone away, she went on, “You know you will, right?”
    “Yeah.” I grinned back at her. “I know. Someday my prince will come, right? And next time, let’s hope I don’t screw it up the way I did with Paul.”  I hesitated. Paige and Paul had been very close, but her smile didn’t falter. “But sometimes I wonder if what Paul and I had was all that.”
    She signed the charge slip and stood up. “You and Paul were good together, Chanse, and he loved you so very very much.” She slipped her arm through mine. “I used to envy you and Paul—and you used to piss me off  because I was so afraid you’d screw it up.”
    I froze for a moment and took a deep breath.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” She squeezed my arm.
    “It’s okay.” I forced a smile, even though my heart was pounding fast. Think about something else, think about something happy, think about the beach and the warm breeze and the gentle waves coming up to shore. What happened to Paul wasn’t your fault. You just never had the chance to work things out, and she didn’t mean anything by it, and she’s right, you did almost blow it with him, not just once but many many times. “Seriously. I’m okay.”
    We walked out of the restaurant, and I gave her a big hug on the sidewalk. “Call me tomorrow,” she instructed. “I know you’re anxiously awaiting the next Coralie update.”
    I laughed and made sure she was in her car, and that it started, before I waved and  started walking down Dauphine Street to my car. I was kind of glad I had to walk six blocks—it was a start, working off the meal.
    I was also happy that I’d managed to avoid going down into the dark place. The therapy was working, after all. In the past, I wasn’t even able to think of Paul without starting on the downward spiral that left me aching and feeling empty. Now, I could remember him without that happening—although it still wasn’t easy. But I was healing from everything—Paul’s death, the hurricane and the evacuation. My life was going along just fine—actually, it was better than fine. So what if I was alone? When the time was right and I was ready, someone would come along.  I could try to get Paige the interview she needed to get that bitch Coralie off her back. Maybe I’d invite Paige and Ryan over for dinner. I could make dinner for us at –
     I started laughing at myself. Listen to me, planning an evening with the happy couple! I started whistling. It was a beautiful night, the air just warm enough to be pleasant. The sky was full of clouds, glowing pink from the reflection of all the neon on Bourbon Street. I saw a tabby cat run across the street, and that made me smile a little bit too. I’d go home and smoke some pot, get nice and stoned, set the coffeemaker before I went to bed, and get a good night’s sleep. Surely there’d be some bad reality television show that I could watch and laugh at. I’d just chill out for the evening, maybe even open a bottle of wine and have a glass or two. The bells of St. Louis Cathedral began chiming the call to evening Mass, and it felt good to be alive. I stopped walking for a moment, and listened to the bells. It was quiet in the lower Quarter, except for the occasional car driving past on Esplanade. This would be the perfect time for a cigarette, I thought, before banishing the thought from my mind. It had been too hard to quit.  I wasn’t about to start again.

Chapter Five
     
    I started sweating as I walked hurriedly up Esplanade Avenue. A cool breeze was blowing from the direction of the river, but with the air so damp and warm and heavy, a thick blanket of gauze was dropping down over the entire Quarter, making it feel haunted. The street lamps acquired a halo effect, surrounding their white light with a rainbow circle of color. The streets were