Free Peggy Holloway - Judith McCain 01 - Blood on White Wicker by Peggy Holloway Page A

coffee.
    As we were driving towards the French Market, Rosa said, “You know, Brandy, you ought to consider going strawberry blonde. I think you would look good. Not that you don’t look good now. You’re absolutely gorgeous. So what do you think? If we did it today, we could have the picture for your driver’s license made afterward. This is an idea. Since you’ll have to wait for me to see the man about getting you a fake ID, you could use that time to get your hair done. What do you think?”
    I thought this was a great idea and told her so.
    On Charters Street, Rosa pulled up in front of and old wooden house and an old gray-haired man opened the door. He was wearing a silk robe with bright red poppies on it and flip flops. There were bolts of beautiful material piled high on tables everywhere I looked. He took my measurements, and I picked out six different materials with decorations to go with them. He said he could have them ready in a few days and would call Rosa when they were ready. I gave him three hundred dollars, and we thanked him and left.
    Next, Rosa took me to a fancy hair salon named Le Mon’s and left me there. Besides having them dye my hair strawberry blonde, I decided to also get it cut short. I found out that Rosa knew a lot of people and everyone liked her, because even though I didn’t have an appointment, Le Mon himself did my hair after seeing me with Rosa. He did a good job, and I looked so different I thought I could fool anyone. I gave Le Mon two hundred dollars, but it was worth it.
    When Rosa drove up, I was waiting outside. When I got in the car, she gave a whistle.
    “Amazing, I almost didn’t recognize you. Now we’ve got to go see this man I know who does all kinds of ID pictures.”
    She parked on Poydras Street. We got out and went up stairs on the outside of a restaurant. When we walked in, I saw that there was all kind of camera equipment. Without a word, he motioned for me to stand in front of a big white screen. He took what seemed like thousands of pictures, and before I knew what was happening, he handed me a stack of pictures of myself and told me to give him two hundred dollars.
    I was glad that I had taken some money out of the lining of my suitcase and put in my jeans pocket this morning while Rose was in the shower. I was hoping that the ID guy would be the end of it for awhile.
    When we got back out on the street, Rosa said, “Now let’s drop these off, and then we’re going to have about an hour to kill. Anyplace in particular you want to go?”
    “I want to go see a man named Jean,” I said. “He owns an art gallery over on Royal Street.”
    When we walked in, Jean came over to greet me. I introduced him to Rosa, and he took her hand and kissed it.
    “Would you like tea?” he asked.
    I explained to him that we didn’t have much time but that I needed to give him a new phone number. He didn’t comment on my new appearance at all, but he did keep looking at my hair.
    When we got back in the car, Rosa didn’t ask, but she kept looking at me, and I decided to tell her everything. After all, she had given up her whole day to help me, and I couldn’t have done any of this without her. After that, we picked up my new driver’s license and passport, and I gave this guy eight hundred and fifty dollars. As we were headed up I-10 back toward her apartment, I told her everything. She would gasp at times or whistle, look at me like I was some kind of weird creature, then look quickly back at the road.
    When I finished, we were turning off the freeway. She grabbed her pigtail, pulled it from the back and started flipping it. When we went into her apartment, she still hadn’t said anything.
    Then finally, just as I was beginning to wish I hadn’t told her, she said, “I’m sorry. This is all so astonishing. You should write a book. I’ve heard a lot of stories, but if I didn’t have good instincts about people, I would think you were making all this up. I’ll