by Jana DeLeon
Raissa started to understand, and wasn’t sure whether that made her feel better or more confused. “So this is…”
“Gone with the Wind,” Mildred supplied. “My suggestion. I wasn’t about to allow her in my hotel with what she had on before. I don’t care if no one else can see her. I can, and that’s enough.”
Raissa looked over at Helena. “What movie were you dressed like before?”
“Boogie Nights,” Helena replied.
Raissa laughed. “Boogie Nights is a classic?”
Helena huffed. “It is if you’ve watched the last scene.”
Raissa grinned and looked over at Mildred, who was frowning at Helena. “I can see where the problem might have come in.”
“So,” Helena went on, “that’s why I’m wearing the pink flying-nun dress. I wouldn’t want to offend Mildred’s delicate sensibilities, even though those traveling salesmen she rents rooms to watch stuff that make Boogie Nights look like Scooby-Doo.”
Mildred shook her head. “Well, since I’m not walking through walls and spying on customers when they darned well think they’re alone, I don’t have issues with what they do in their rooms, as long as I don’t know about it. Sophia bleaches the sheets when people leave anyway.”
“Gross,” Raissa said. “I think I’d rather talk about my impending doom.”
Mildred laid down her cards and nodded. “That’s why we asked you here. I’ve spoken to Sabine and Maryse. They both had other obligations that kept them from being here this morning, but we all agree—you’ve got trouble coming. No one sees Helena who doesn’t live to regret it, but the good news is, so far, everyone’s lived.”
Raissa sat back in her chair and sighed. “Only by the skin of their teeth. You were all very lucky.”
“Yes, that’s true, but we also heeded the warning—the Helena kind—and we took care to know that something serious was in the making, even if none of us could understand it all at the time.”
“I know you took precautions,” Raissa agreed, “but the reality is, if someone wants to kill you, they most likely will. The only way to stop that train is to either eliminate the killer or the reason he wants you dead.”
Mildred nodded. “Exactly. So that’s what we’re gonna do. With Sabine and Maryse, it was harder to pin down because they weren’t even aware of some of the things they’d gotten into. So we were off looking for an enemy without a clear view of the situation from the beginning.”
Raissa looked at Mildred. “And you think somehow that’s different with me?”
“Well, yeah. At least that’s what we’re hoping. I mean, after everything that happened last month and your involvement with it all, Maryse, Sabine, and I thought maybe Helena should shadow you for a bit and make sure you couldn’t see her. We were just starting to think we’d gotten it all wrong when someone shoved you in front of a bus.”
“And then I could see Helena,” Raissa finished.
“Right,” Mildred said. “But the only thing in your life that changed from that moment to an hour before was you talking to the police about that missing girl. Helena was there when you talked to that detective, but you couldn’t see her then. So we know it has something to do with the missing girl and your talking to the police. We just need you to tell us what.”
“What makes you think I know?” Raissa asked.
Mildred glanced over at Helena, then back at Raissa. “I’ve always known you were hiding from something. I figured it was an abusive husband or the like, which is why I never pressed you for answers. But after knowing you as long as I have, I’ve decided you’re too strong to have been abused. Which means that whatever you’re hiding from is a lot worse than one angry, vindictive man.”
Raissa nodded. “You’re right. It’s not one man.”
Mildred narrowed her eyes at Raissa. “You were a cop, weren’t you?”
Raissa felt a wave of anxiety pass over her. She shifted in her chair and looked down at the floor, millions of denials already forming in her mind. Finally, she looked back up at Mildred and in an instant, she knew.
It was time.
Time to stop running. Stop hiding from her past. From the truth.
“I was an FBI agent.”
Helena sucked in a breath and stared at her, wide-eyed. “Holy shit! You were a supercop. No wonder nothing fazes you. You’ve got balls of steel.”
“Ha!” Raissa spit out that single word. “If I had balls of steel, I wouldn’t have spent the last nine years hiding behind scented candles and tarot cards. If I had balls of steel, I’d have taken out the entire Hebert family so I could have my life back.”
Mildred put one hand over her mouth. “The Hebert family…as in Sonny Hebert, the Don Corleone of southern Louisiana?”
“Yeah. As in, not one man—but a ‘family.’ ”
“Holy shit,” Mildred repeated Helena’s words, then downed her entire cup of coffee. “Okay, this is far worse than I had imagined.”
Helena nodded. “That’s not the kind of family that does barbecues and beer.”
“No,” Raissa agreed. “They’re more into extortion, and money laundering, and God knows what else.”
Mildred refilled her coffee cup, pulled a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of her desk, and poured a generous amount into her coffee. She handed the bottle to Helena, who took a huge gulp straight from the bottle, then doctored her own coffee and passed the bottle to Raissa. Raissa, who had never been one to drink after another person, wasn’t quite sure the ghost counted, but it still bothered her on too many levels, so she passed on the whiskey altogether.
“Okay,” Mildred said, “so there’s a bit of a setback in our original thinking, but there’s no cause to panic.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Helena said. “Hell, I’m panicked, and I’m already dead.”
Mildred frowned. “Well, at least they can’t kill you twice.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Raissa said. “I died nine and a half years ago when one of the Hebert clan put a bullet through my chest. They resuscitated me in the ambulance. On paper, I’ve been dead ever since. So in this case, if the Heberts get me, then technically they have killed me twice.”
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Mildred said, her voice growing strong again. “I promise you, Raissa, we will see you through this. The first thing we have to do is find you someplace safe.”
Raissa laughed. “I know you mean well, and I love you for it, but I’m trained to hide, and they still found me.”
“I didn’t say you should hide, since you’re right, that’s obviously not going to work. But I do think relocating to a more defensible location would help.”
“You mean move? No, I can’t move. I have a business to run—”
“Which,” Mildred interrupted, “you’ve already offered to cut down to part time to cover Sabine’s store for her honeymoon. Sabine will be at Beau’s place in New Orleans to night, and they fly out tomorrow. There’s no reason for you not to move here temporarily.”
“I don’t know,” Raissa said, her mind racing with all the reasons that involving more people in her mess was a really bad idea.
“You should do it,” Helena urged. “It’s not like just anyone can come and go in Mudbug without being noticed. And you could stay at the hotel.”
Raissa struggled to come up with a good argument, but had to admit that the idea wasn’t the worst one she’d heard. In fact, it came with the advantages Mildred had mentioned and a few that she hadn’t thought about. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll move, but just for the rest of the week, and I’ll still have to commute to my store a couple of times. I can reschedule my readings, but I don’t want to cancel on my regular customers.”
Mildred frowned, and Raissa knew she’d wanted a full-time commitment, but it was something that Raissa just couldn’t offer without lying. One, because remaining in Mudbug wouldn’t allow her to do the investigating she needed to do in New Orleans, and two, because if her sit
uation even came remotely close to putting her friends in danger, then Raissa was out of Mudbug like a gunshot.
“What about your family, Raissa?” Mildred asked. “Do they know where you are?”
“My parents are both dead, and we weren’t really tight with any relatives. So there’s no one missing me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Mildred nodded and studied her for a couple of seconds. Finally, she sighed. “You’re not going to bow out until you find that missing girl, are you? It’s somehow tied in to your past and the Heberts’.”
“I think so,” Raissa said, “but I’ve never had any proof.”
Helena’s eyes widened. “There have been others…other little girls that were taken?”
“There were others before Melissa.”
Mildred swallowed, then cleared her throat. “What happened to them?”
“They were returned a week later without a mark on them and no memory of what happened to them after their abduction. There’s a very narrow window of opportunity to catch this guy and stop this from happening again.” Raissa rose from her chair, already mentally packing a bag of necessities for her stay in Mudbug. “I have to go home and get some things. One of my conditions for staying here is that you let me rig the hotel with security. It can all be done with fingernail-size lenses and infrared. I won’t install anything in the guest rooms, except for my own, but I insist on rigging at least the outside of your quarters, Mildred, or I won’t stay here at all.”
Mildred nodded. “What ever you think is best.”
“Good,” Raissa said, “because as much as I want to find out what happened to those girls, I’d prefer it not be firsthand. Abduction is not on my list of things to do, and it’s doubtful I’d come back without a mark on me…if I came back at all.”
Mildred narrowed her eyes at Raissa. “I don’t suppose you really are psychic, right? I mean, not that I wouldn’t find that a bit creepy, but, well, we already have a ghost. I guess I’m willing to consider any edge we might have, even the strange ones.”
“I wish I were,” Raissa said, “but it’s all a very clever front. Or at least, I used to think it was.”
“But all those things you knew…How did you guess all those things and get them right? No one’s that lucky.”
Raissa smiled. “It was never luck. I’m a highly skilled computer hacker and an expert at surveillance. Someone asks me what’s wrong with their marriage, I follow the husband and find the girlfriend, or the doctor’s office. Then I hack the girlfriend’s computer, since usually women don’t destroy the evidence, like mushy e-mails, that the cheating husband asks them to. Or I hack the doctor’s office and find out what he’s being treated for. I feed them enough information to sound like a vision but send them off on the right track for exposing whatever is going on.”
“No shit.” Helena stared at Raissa in admiration. “That whole psychic gig is a genius way to use those skills. I take back every time I called you a nutbag.”
Raissa laughed. “Thanks, Helena. Coming from you that means…well, damned near nothing, but I’ll take it anyway.” Raissa rose from her chair. “Are we done here? Everyone satisfied with the master plan?”
Mildred looked over at Helena who nodded. “I’m as satisfied as I’m getting,” Mildred said. “But I really wish you’d reconsider staying here full-time.”
“No can do, Mildred. I’m not trying to upset anyone, but this whole thing is far bigger than just me.”
Mildred straightened up in her chair and stared at Raissa, her eyes wide. “You’re going to try to catch that guy, aren’t you? You have no intention of lying low or leaving this to the cops.”
“This may be my last chance,” Raissa said. “Think about those girls. Think about their mothers. And then tell me what I should do.”
Mildred was silent for a couple of seconds, and Raissa knew her mind was racing to find an argument, anything that would hold up to Raissa’s logic. Raissa also knew that Maryse and Sabine, Mildred’s surrogate daughters, would be lodged in her mind, too. Finally, Mildred slumped back in her chair and nodded. “I don’t like it, but I shouldn’t expect anything less from you.” She rose from her chair and surprised Raissa by giving her a hug.
“I don’t even know if you have any family or if they even know you’re alive,” Mildred said as she released her, “but I want you to know that I consider you my family, another one of my girls. I’m not going to ask you to promise not to do anything dangerous, but I am going to make you promise not to die on us.”
Raissa’s eyes moistened and she rubbed her nose with one finger, sniffling. “That’s a promise I’ll be happy to make.” She gave Mildred’s hand a squeeze, then hurried out of the hotel before she embarrassed herself by becoming just another weepy woman.
Chapter Four
At two thirty P.M., Raissa closed the door to her shop after her last appointment and put the CLOSED sign in the window. There were a million things that had to be done before she could commence her part-time-living adventures in the Mudbug Hotel, but one absolutely couldn’t wait.
She entered her upstairs apartment and opened the closet, scrutinizing her choices. This excursion wasn’t exactly a jeans-and-T-shirt sort of call, not unless she wanted to stick out by a mile. She made her selections, then began a midafternoon transformation.
Twenty minutes later, she peeked through her shop blinds, scanning the street for Detective Blanchard’s unmarked police car. Clear. Thank God. She left her shop and drove to a corner bar on a seedy side of town. Unlike most bars, this one was always open and always had clientele. It tended to cater to people who didn’t keep regular business hours—drug dealers, hookers, petty thieves, and not-so-petty thieves—just the kind of people she was looking to see.
She was certain she made quite a picture walking down the sidewalk to the bar. The whistles and catcalls confirmed her choice of the short, tight, black leather skirt and blue sparkly top with a plunging neckline. Her six-inch stilettos put her right at six foot two, and the platinum wig put the finishing touches on the entire getup.
Satisfied that she looked like any other working girl, she opened the door and walked into the bar. The man she was looking for was sitting at the counter and he gave her a mental undressing as she walked in. She gave him the ole come-hither smile and walked to the back of the empty bar, shaking her hips as she strolled. She slid into a high-backed booth in the corner and waited for her prey to take the bait.
It didn’t take long.
Spider, as he was called by the Hebert family, was predictable, if anything. And creepy, hence the nickname. A minute later—just enough time for her to slide her 9-millimeter from her handbag—he rounded the corner and peeked into her booth. Raissa was ready.
She reached up with one hand and pulled him into the booth by his hair. Spider screeched a bit but then leered over at her. “You like to play rough, do you? I can get into that.”
Under the table, Raissa shoved her weapon into Spider’s crotch. “Rough is my favorite,” she whispered, “but I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”
Spider’s eyes widened with shock or fright, or both. He had always been a coward. “Wha—what do you want? I ain’t done nothing to you.”
“I want information, Spider,” Raissa said in her normal voice and had the pleasure of watching the blood drain from the man’s face.
“Taylor?” The man stared at her. “No fucking way. You’re supposed to be dead. They told me you was dead.”
“I’m sure they did, and likely things would be much more con ve nient if that were true, especially for you. But I’m sorry to tell you that I’m very much alive and still have a bullet scar on my chest from your nine.” She pressed the gun a bit harder into his crotch. “I owe you, you know.”
“C’mon now,” Spider begged, sweat forming on his brow. “We can work something out. What do you need? ID, passport? I can get you a new life.”
Raissa laughed. “You think I’ve been w
alking around for the last nine years as Taylor Lane? I had a new identity the moment I got released from the hospital.” She smiled at him. “We’re going to work something out, though. I want information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Where can I find Monk?”
Spider swallowed. “Ain’t nobody seen Monk in at least six months.”
“Bullshit.” Maurice Marsella, aka Monk, was Sonny’s right hand. “Is he in the joint?”
“No. I swear, ain’t nobody seen him. I pay Lenny now. He said I wasn’t gonna ask no questions about the change, and I ain’t gonna.”
“You must have heard something.” She pressed the gun harder against his jeans until he flinched. “What’s the word on the street?”
Spider leaned in and whispered. “You gotta promise you won’t say this came from me.”
“I’m hardly going to pay Sonny a visit. I think your secret is safe with me.”
Spider looked around the empty bar, then back at Raissa. “Word is that Sonny had him offed, that Monk’s at the bottom of the Mississippi.”
Raissa frowned. This didn’t fit into her suspicions at all. “You’re sure?”
“All I know is, Lenny’s taken over all of Monk’s territory. Ain’t nobody seen Monk in half a year, and ain’t no one mentions his name in front of Sonny.”
“So who’s got his stuff—you know, from his house?”
Spider shrugged. “Sonny, I guess. What didn’t burn. Whole place went up in flames…well, I guess it’s been about six months ago.”
Raissa looked Spider directly in the eyes. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Hell, no. I ain’t heard exactly what happened to Monk, and I ain’t likely to. Nothing to lie about.” Spider licked his lips and glanced over at the entrance to the bar. “Does Sonny know you’re back?”
Raissa nodded.