Free Imogene in New Orleans by Hunter Murphy Page B

morning sun as it beamed toward the river. “Whoo-wee. Gonna be a scorcher, boys.” She slid her chair against the wall to get some shade. It was nine thirty on a Saturday morning in New Orleans, and they watched the leisurely pace of it below.
    They had the balcony to themselves, so Jackson got to walk from one end to the other without hindrance. After pacing for a few moments, he sat down and studied the list. “Let’s see…Buddy, Blue Moon, Canebrake, Catfish, TH, and Pirate.”
    The boys had returned the book to its rightful thief. Imogene was flipping through the pages. She came to the part on Catfish. “Boys, I love to fish. You know me and Virgil, we used to go fishin’ all the time. Matter of fact, we’d take whole vacations down at the river. We’d sleep wherever we pleased. On the riverbanks, picnic tables, tents we made ourself, and the car. We didn’t have nothing fancy like all this.”
    She pulled her sun hat down on one side of her head because the sun had broken over the building next door and was hitting her squarely. “If Imogene Deal McGregor had her choosin’, she’d first figure on who this Catfish fellar is. The Gilbert boy liked ’em rough, according to Neil and Lena.”
    “Mama, I don’t really want to discuss Glenway’s preferences with you.”
    “You ain’t got to, son. Shoot. I’ve lived in this world a long time, and you can’t change what you like, even if you’d want to. And ’pparently, Glenway liked the rough trade. That’s all I’m sayin’. Catfish is a rough ’un, and we need to get after him.”
    Billy shook his head. “We don’t know enough about him. Where do we start?”
    “You just go and try, son. That’s all you can do. We got the daylight on us, and we all loved that Gilbert boy. We gotta hep him, even if it don’t seem right to do it on vacation. Lord, there’s one thing me and you got in common, son, and that’s seeing the poor boy lying there on his belly with his pretty red hair and his freckled face all dead to the world. We felt for him. At least I raised you to love people, Billy McGregor. You and me and Jack’ll figure out who wronged him, if God wills it and the creeks don’t rise.” She smacked the outside of the journal and Goose barked. He couldn’t stand any sudden noise, and he always sounded his growly alarm at the slightest notion of it. “Sorry, Gooey. Come here.”
    Jackson walked to the far edge of the balcony, closest to the river, and he leaned over it. From that viewpoint, he could see the road that dissected Toulouse and the other entrance to the hotel, which he noticed for the first time. He watched for a minute until he saw the shadow of a hulking man coming down the road. The shadow outlined a beefy person with sharp lines and a purposeful walk. He waited as the footsteps became more distinct. Lieutenant Rogers emerged from under the balcony and approached the side entrance.
    “Oh.” Jackson scooted away from the edge but kept one eye on Rogers as he disappeared into the hotel. He tiptoed back to the others, and Imogene leaped out of her chair, hurrying to see what had caused his reaction. He blocked her from reaching the far end of the balcony. “No, no. Get back. It’s the man who arrested Neil yesterday.” He made her turn around and return to her seat.
    She peeked around Jackson’s shoulder. “Shoot, he ain’t gonna arrest me. I’ll outfox him, Jack.”
    “Imogene, he’ll arrest you before you can blink. He didn’t give Neil a chance.” Jackson held his hands out.
    “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have head-butted a big ol’ boy like that. Neil should’ve kept his wits, boys. You don’t strike a constable, no matter how much they fire you up.” She stood tall to peek around Jackson’s arm.
    Billy had a furrowed brow. “Was it really Lieutenant Rogers?”
    “Absolutely it was.”
    Billy jumped up and swung open the door, insisting they return inside. He didn’t even consider his mother’s protests about