Showdown in Mudbug

by Jana DeLeon

  Hank got out of his truck and saw Chuck waving at him from the doorway of the building. A young woman stood behind him. As Hank crossed the street and approached the building, his felt his pulse shoot up. He knew the woman, and that might not be a good thing at all.

  “Hank Henry,” Chuck said, “I want you to meet Lila Comeaux. Lila will be running this facility when it’s open, and she’s got some specific ideas about the look and feel of the place.”

  Lila smiled and extended her hand to Hank. “It’s good to see you again, Hank. You look well.”

  Hank felt relief wash over him as he shook her hand. Apparently, she wasn’t going to make an issue of his past. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “You two know each other?” Chuck asked.

  Lila froze for a moment, and Hank knew she was struggling with exactly how to answer the question without betraying a confidence. He quickly decided to take the decision off her plate. “Yes, sir,” Hank said. “Lila worked at the rehab center I stayed at in Mississippi. She was a huge factor in me getting straight. I’m glad to know you’re opening your own place. I know you wanted to move back home, and I think you’ll be able to help a lot of people here.”

  Chuck looked over at Lila. “Are you okay with Hank working on this job? If there’s any discomfort, I can make other arrangements.”

  “I’m thrilled Hank is going to work here,” Lila reassured him. “Hank was a huge success for the clinic. He really has the determination to make his life something of merit.” She smiled at Chuck. “And I’m very pleased to know that you’re the kind of man that gives people an opportunity to do something worthwhile for themselves, despite their past. It makes me even more certain of my decision to hire you.”

  Chuck blushed a bit and looked down at the ground. “Well, hell, we all made mistakes. Youthful indiscretions and the like. Some of us were just lucky enough to pull our head out of our ass before getting caught. Don’t mean you can’t do things right going forward.” He looked up at Lila and grimaced. “Oh, hell, now I’ve gone and said ‘ass’ in front of a lady. My wife will have my hide.”

  Lila laughed. “You said ‘hell,’ too, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Chuck looked pained for a moment, then laughed along with Lila and Hank. “Guess I did at that. Well, if the two of you are finished with the reunion talk, I guess we best get to talking about cabinets.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket. “Let’s start with the reception area.”

  An hour later, Hank walked Lila to her car, unable to contain his excitement about the job before him. “Your ideas are fantastic, Lila. I think people will really feel comfortable with the environment you’re creating.”

  “Thanks,” Lila said and brightened. “You have some pretty good ideas yourself, and I was very impressed with the photos of your prior work. You have a rare gift.” She placed one hand on his arm. “I’m so glad you’re pursuing a great life for yourself, Hank. I look forward to working with you.”

  Hank’s arm tingled at her touch and he felt a blush creep up his neck. Lila smiled at him, a warm, sweet smile that made him feel good all over. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow with those color swatches,” she said, and slipped into her car.

  Hank watched her car until it turned out of sight at the end of the street, and that’s when he heard whistling behind him. He felt his spine stiffen and turned around, already dreading what he knew he would see behind him. Sure enough, Rico Hebert was half a block up, leaning against his car.

  And he didn’t look happy.

  “Pretty piece of work,” Rico said as Hank approached. “Girl like that might be worth making some time for.”

  “Don’t even go there. She’s my boss, nothing else.”

  Rico stared at him for a couple of seconds. “Looked awfully friendly for a boss, but hey, maybe you got one of them jobs with perks. Might be the reason you went straight.”

  Hank clenched his jaw and struggled against clenching his hand. Hitting Rico would be instant gratification and long-term suicide. “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want.”

  “I already told you, I don’t know anything about that psychic woman. And my ex won’t talk to me since our divorce,” Hank lied. “She’s not going to give me information on her friends, especially given our past.”

  “That’s a shame, because you see, we got sorta an issue on our hands now. And the boss would really like it solved, you know?”

  “What kind of issue?”

  “That woman took a powder. Ain’t no one seen her since yesterday.”

  Hank put up his hands. “I don’t know nothing about that.”

  Rico studied him for a couple of seconds. “Maybe not. Still, if someone told the woman that we was looking for her, that person might be in trouble, you know?”

  “I haven’t been anywhere but this job site and my house.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and held it out. “Check my phone. You can see every call in and out the past week, and I don’t have a home phone. I can’t help you.”

  Rico looked down at the phone, then back up at Hank and nodded. “Maybe you should ask that ex of yours again. You know, as a special favor to Sonny.” He walked back to his car and pulled away.

  Hank watched until Rico’s car rounded the corner; then he crossed the street back to the job site. “Hey, Chuck,” he called to his boss when he walked in the clinic. “Can I borrow your cell phone for a minute? Mine’s dead and I need to make a quick call to my ex-wife. There’s some legal business I need to get settled up with her.”

  Chuck pulled his cell phone from his pocket and passed it to Hank. “No problem. Come see me in the back when you get done. I want to put together a plan for building the cabinets and need to talk to you about when to order the supplies.”

  “Sure,” Hank said, and waited until Chuck was halfway down the hall before he punched Maryse’s number into the cell phone.

  Maryse looked away from her computer and down at her phone, frowning when she didn’t recognize the number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Hank. Don’t hang up.”

  “What do you want?” Maryse asked in the exasperated tone she reserved only for her ex-husband.

  “Your friend, Raissa…she’s got trouble.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Okay, how’s this? For two days now one of Sonny Hebert’s guys has shown up at my job site wanting to know where Raissa is. He says that the reason she left is because I warned her about Sonny. He thinks I should find out where she is from you.”

  Maryse felt her pulse quicken. “What have you told him?”

  “That you hate me and won’t even talk to me.”

  Maryse blew out a breath. “I don’t hate you, Hank. I honestly don’t know how I feel, and I’m sure you understand that now is not exactly the time to explore that.”

  “I get that. I’m just afraid that when he doesn’t get the answer he wants from me, he might decide to go straight to you. You need to watch your back, Maryse, and tell Raissa to do the same. These guys don’t mess around.”

  Maryse swallowed and stared out the front window of her and Luc’s new home. “I know. We’re being careful. I mean, as careful as we can be.”

  “Damn it.” Hank sighed. “It’s times like these I’m almost grateful that Mom’s not around to see just how big of a mess I made of my life. I know she was a hard woman to love, but she still deserved a better son than me, and you deserved a better husband.”

  “We all make mistakes. It’s what we do afterward that defines us. Thanks for warning me. And Hank, you watch your back.”

  “Yeah.”

  Maryse disconnected the call and leaned back in her chair, a tinge of guilt running through her. She still hadn’t told Helena that Hank couldn’t be her biological son—hadn’t told Hank, either. After everything she’d been through in the past couple of months, Maryse knew better than most that you never knew when
your last conversation with someone might be. And where Helena was concerned, that was doubly true, as no one really had a clear grasp on why she was here to begin with.

  She pressed in Mildred’s number on her cell phone. It was time for them to come clean to Helena.

  “Damn it, Blanchard!” the captain yelled, his face flushed red. “Can you explain to me why the FBI was in my office first thing this morning blaming this department for that woman disappearing?”

  Zach put on his best blank look. “I have no idea what they’re talking about, sir.”

  The captain stared at him, but he never averted his eyes. Finally, the captain sat back down and threw up his hands. “I’ve got the mayor’s son calling me every hour on the hour about his daughter. I had to call the police to get the media off my front lawn. One of those reporters snapped a shot of me through my bathroom window. I was taking a pee, for Christ’s sake. Can you just see the headline? MAYOR’S GRANDCHILD STILL MISSING WHILE POLICE CAPTAIN HOLDS HIS CRANK.”

  “Captain, I promise you I didn’t warn the Bordeaux woman off. I had nothing to do with her leaving.” Technically, it was all true, so Zach managed to deliver it with a straight face.

  “That better be the case.” The captain tapped a pen on the desk and stared out the window for a moment. Zach waited, then wondered if he’d been dismissed. He was just about to rise when the captain looked back at Zach. “That wasn’t the only reason I called you in here,” the captain said.

  Zach remained seated, but sat up straight. Something in the captain’s tone was off. “Sir?”

  “I have a problem, Blanchard. I know you have zero propensity for bullshit and even less tolerance for political positioning, so I want to ask your opinion on this.”

  Zach stared at him. “You want my opinion? Uh, yeah, I mean, if I can help with anything, certainly I’ll try.”

  “You said that Bordeaux woman is who gave you the tip on the other missing girls, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And then the FBI comes storming in here to claim her, which tells me she’s probably an informant who saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.”

  “That would be a logical guess, sir,” Zach hedged.

  The captain pulled a folder from his desk drawer and slid it across the desk to Zach. “Then can you tell me why it took that Bordeaux woman to bring those other cases to our attention when the mayor took part in a kidnapping seminar two years ago that discussed those very abductions?”

  Zach stared at the captain, certain he’d heard incorrectly. “You’re kidding me. Then why isn’t the FBI taking over the case? If they released the facts for a workshop, why wasn’t a public plea ever made?”

  “Because after the girls were returned unharmed, the cases went cold. No point in spending a lot of time on healthy girls when they get new cases every day. If I had to guess, the last thing the FBI wants the public to know is that they did little to nothing about this in the past, and now it’s happened again.” The captain pointed to the file and Zach opened it.

  The first page was an itinerary with a list of workshop attendees. The mayor’s name was third on the list. Zach flipped through the rest of the pages. Surely, there had to be a mistake. Maybe he’d been invited and hadn’t been able to attend.

  But the paperwork said differently.

  Notes from the meeting clearly outlined the mayor’s opinions on the subject of child abduction and the steps law enforcement should take when it occurs. There was even a picture of some of the attendees at the back of the file, and the mayor’s smiling face was front and center. Zach slowly closed the file, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts, but not one of them any he felt like telling the captain.

  There was no way the mayor had forgotten the information presented. It was too unique, too outlandish for one to forget. And there was the glaring fact that Melissa had been taken out of a home with a high-tech security system. A security system that someone obviously had known how to disarm. That either meant a pro or someone on the inside. But what in the world did the captain expect him to say?

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Zach said finally. “I can’t even begin to imagine…”

  “Yeah, you can. And so can I. The problem is that neither one of us can come up with a good, moral reason for a man who has information pertinent to the kidnapping of his own grandchild to keep it quiet. That’s why I’m asking you what you think, before I make a move that’s career suicide.”

  Zach blew out a breath, the captain’s position overloading his mind with dire consequences—for all of them. “It could be he’s hiding something else and doesn’t want us poking into his private life, particularly that seminar.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  “I don’t think it’s the best bet,” Zach said.

  “So what is?”

  “Next year’s an election year, and according to the polls, the mayor’s popularity is waning. Something like this could create a huge sympathy vote.”

  “Motherfucking shit.”

  Zach nodded. “That pretty much sums it up.”

  “So, what do I do with this?”

  Zach shook his head. “Either he knows something about the kidnapping, or he’s keeping his mouth shut to hide something else. And I gotta say, captain, that if it’s option two and this isn’t some political maneuver, then you’re not going to like whatever it is that’s so important he’s willing to risk his grandchild.”

  Zach studied the captain as he pulled at his tie. His face was an interesting mix of wanting to throttle someone and the precursor to a heart attack. “We’re not going to get anything out of him,” the captain said.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then who might we get something out of? Someone’s got to have suspicions.”

  “You want to know who would roll on the mayor?”

  “Yeah. Blood isn’t always thicker than water, and he’s got a shitload of relatives working for him. Which one do you think will talk?”

  Zach considered the long list of relatives that he was aware of. “I think my bet would be on the little girl’s mother.”

  The captain sat stock-still, and Zach could tell he was rolling that idea over and over in his mind, playing out every possible outcome—good and bad—of pumping the mayor’s daughter-in-law for family secrets. Finally, he gave Zach a single nod. “Do it.”

  Zach rose from his chair and headed to the door. Before he opened the door, the captain’s voice sounded behind him. “And not a word to anyone.”

  That kinda went without saying.

  Raissa, Maryse, and Mildred sat in Mildred’s office, all looking at Helena, waiting for the bomb to drop. Helena stared back at them in disbelief, her mind not even capable of processing the information they’d dumped on her.

  “But that’s not possible,” Helena said finally, looking far more pale than even a ghost should appear. “I gave birth to Hank. I know he’s my son. Giving birth’s not the sort of thing you forget all that easily.”

  “We’re not doubting that part,” Maryse said. “But your blood types are completely off. There’s simply no way you and Harold could have produced Hank.”

  Helena’s eyes widened. “I never cheated on Harold. It was Harold who made a habit of running around. Hell, I should have cheated on Harold, but I didn’t, I swear. In fact, I hate to admit it now that I’m dead and don’t even have a chance at another go, but Harold’s the only man I’ve ever slept with.”

  Raissa glanced at Maryse and Mildred, who were both grimacing. It was pretty horrific, if one knew Harold Henry. And very, very sad. “There has to be an explanation,” Raissa said.

  Helena shook her head. “I can’t imagine what. Are you sure, Maryse?”

  Maryse nodded. “I double-checked with the doctors I’m working with in New Orleans, just to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything about blood types. They all said it’s not possible for a combination of your and Harold’s blood types to produce Hank.”

 
Helena stared at her, a lost look on her face. “I don’t understand. Hank was my miracle baby. I’d had problems, cysts removed, and Dr. Breaux said it was unlikely I’d be able to get pregnant. When I got pregnant with Hank, I was so surprised and excited. And now you tell me he’s not even my son. I know he’s done a lot of things wrong, but I still love him. What could have happened?”

  “I’m so sorry, Helena,” Maryse said. “The only thing we can think of is that someone mixed the babies up at the hospital.”

  “But then…oh God…that means my real baby is wandering around somewhere out there, and I never knew him.” Helena looked ready to cry. Maryse looked over at Raissa, the plea for help written all over her face.

  Raissa took the cue and stepped in. “Are you certain you gave birth to a boy?”

  “Yes,” Helena said. “I remember the doctor saying so as soon as he came out, and Harold grinning like an idiot. Probably the only damned time the man was happy.”

  “That helps,” Raissa said. “I’m going to do a little computer work and see what other male births happened at the hospital at the same time. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Maryse bit her lip and nodded. “I’m really sorry we had to tell you. I guess we were hoping there was some logical explanation.”

  “Like my having an affair?” Helena asked. “That’s a great thing to think about a person.”

  “It’s not like anyone who’s ever met Harold would blame you,” Maryse pointed out.

  “That’s true,” Helena allowed. “I don’t know what to make of all of this. First, I wind up killed. Then I find myself wandering around the earth and causing trouble most everywhere I go, and now you tell me the baby I raised isn’t even my biological child. I guess that should relieve me some, given how he turned out, but it’s just sorta sad.”

  Maryse blew out a breath. “I know he’s done some bad things in the past, but Hank is getting better and he’s still your son, Helena, no matter what the tests say. No one can take that away from either of you.”

  Helena rose from her chair and nodded. “I guess not,” she said, and walked through the exterior wall of the hotel.