Ciji Ware by Midnight on Julia Street Read Free Book Online Page B

me , of all people, on a Sunday morning?”
    Striding toward the kitchen she asked, “Coffee?”
    “Just a glass of water would be fine,” King replied.
    Corlis knew if she consumed one more ounce of caffeine, she’d probably get the d.t.’s, so she poured herself a glass of water as well.
    King glanced around her living room. His slight nod made it seem as if he approved of what he saw—a rectangular salon, graced with a fireplace, ornately carved wooden moldings, and twelve-foot ceilings overhead. Two windows nearly that high opened out onto the narrow wrought-iron gallery with its marvelous view up and down Julia Street. At that moment the sound of a moss-green streetcar gliding by clanged its way through the St. Charles Avenue intersection as it headed uptown toward the Garden District.
    Just then Cagney Cat heaved his bulk past the open window sill.
    “Whoa… what a big cat!” King exclaimed. “A big, wet cat.”
    “And not necessarily the brightest,” Corlis added. Addressing Cagney, who nonchalantly was rubbing his saturated fur against King’s calf, she exclaimed, “You finally come in out of the rain, and look what you’re doing to our guest!”
    King leaned over and combed his long aristocratic fingers down the cat’s back and gently pulled the length of his tail. Cagney hated it when she did that. However, the infidel stared up at the visitor and began to purr loudly.
    “I don’t believe it,” Corlis muttered, crossing the carpet to close the window against the shower that had begun to spatter the panes.
    “I like these rugs a lot,” King noted with an appreciative glance at the large garnet-red Persian carpet. A similar narrow jewel-toned runner that had reportedly also belonged to Corlis Bell McCullough graced the long hallway extending from her front door. “They’re perfect here.”
    “Thanks. I take it that you’ve been in one of these Julia Street row houses before?” she asked, inviting him to sit in the club chair. Its beige linen slipcover matched the love seat on which she gratefully sat down. To her utter surprise, Cagney leaped onto King’s lap, shamelessly presenting his belly to be rubbed.
    “Oh, yes, I’ve been here before,” he said, nodding. He absently stroked the cat’s fur as if it were the most usual thing in the world. “As a matter of fact, I spent a lot of time on this street when these places were all flophouses.” He glanced around the parlor. “Less than ten years ago, you could have rented a bed in this very apartment for seven dollars a night!”
    “ You used to live here?”
    “God, no!” he said, laughing. “I was stone broke when I first came back to New Orleans, but not that broke.”
    “Oh,” she said, feeling foolish.
    Why in the world is this man in my living room?
    “Awhile back,” King disclosed, “I was part of a group that went to bat to save this place from the wrecker’s ball.”
    “Someone was going to tear down these gorgeous row houses?”
    “Well, they weren’t so gorgeous before the rehab, but, yup… a developer by the name of Grover Jeffries had big plans for this block. Grover’s hairy pawprint is on most of those high-rises you’ve probably noticed over on Canal Street.”
    Jeffries? she thought, startled. Wasn’t that the last name of one of the creepy guys standing around the coffin she’d just dreamed about? Corlis began to wonder if getting fired for the third time in one’s career could actually unhinge a person. She slowly took a sip from her glass of water, trying not to lose her composure. “You mean that guy Jeffries built those steel-and-glass jobs that look like downtown Dallas?”
    “You got it.”
    King pointed in the direction of her ornate fireplace. “A lot of people in this community got together to fight him off. They were able to save this entire block. To restore the facade and make the interior renovations cost-effective, several of the row houses like yours were divided, turned condo for