“Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”
“Exactly. And Barry is a Richard Gere type of guy, too. Wall Street. Filthy rich.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. You are partly responsible, you know. After what happened between us, I took your advice to heart and left town for a while. I went home.”
“New Orleans?”
A smile crossed Laurene’s face.
“I’ll never go back there. I was born in Louisiana, but up near the border with Arkansas, a little shithole of a town called Violaville. Kind of place you leave as soon as you can. In my case, that was when I was 14 and my stepfather started pawing at me when he was drunk. I never let him do what he wanted, although I doubted he could get it up, he was so sloshed all the time.”
“What was your mother doing while that was going on?”
“She was scared of him. She wasn’t my real momma, anyway. She and her first husband adopted me when I was a baby. Don’t get me wrong. She treated me good. Then my father, at least he was the man I considered my daddy, died in a tractor accident and a couple of years later she married the drunk. He’s dead now, by the way. Bad moonshine, I think. Anyways, when he was alive it seemed like a good idea to skedaddle. My boyfriend, Earl, asked me to run off with him to the Big Easy. He was 18 and said he’d take care of me. He tried, but he couldn’t find work. We were so broke, living in a dump in the Irish Channel, I started hooking. Earl liked the money so much he started pimping me out.”
“Romantic.”
“Yeah. But he didn’t last long. The local mob ran him off and I started working for them. One of the bosses took a liking to me, said I reminded him of his little sister who died. Said I deserved better than New Orleans and set me up with a high-end house in New York. That’s what I was doing when we met.”
She smiled.
“I still can’t believe you turned me down. No one else ever did.”
“You were too young for me.”
Laurene laughed.
“I was playing 13 or 14, but you knew my real age when you tracked me to that hotel.”
“I had other things on my mind, like staying alive.”
Laurene finished her non-cigarette and put it away. All her movements were dainty but assured.
“I’m glad you did. I could use your help, now. That’s why I’m here. I would like to hire you.”
CHAPTER 5 - ADOPTION
That was unexpected.
“Hire me?”
“I always kept in touch with my momma. That’s how I knew my stepfather kicked the bucket. Used to send her some money, from time to time. She wasn’t crazy about my choice of a profession, but she had her own skeletons and we kind of forgave each other. Anyway, she took me back when I told her I was in trouble.”
“I’m glad, Laurene. Moms are like that.”
“I was lucky. I caught her between husbands and short of cash.”
Laurene reached into her bag for another e-cigarette. But then she thought better of it and put it back.
“Hell, I’m not nervous anymore. I feel very comfortable here.”
We suddenly realized how quiet it was and both looked at Gunner. He’d stopped gnawing the elk bone and was now solidly asleep.
“You’re not the only one, apparently. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
I heard a ferry sound its horn as it left its slip in St. George on the way to Manhattan.
“While I was laying low in Violaville,” Laurene said, “which isn’t hard to do the place is so dead, I started thinking about where I was headed. In life, I mean. I figured it might help to find out where I’d been. I asked my momma if she could help me find my birth mother. She didn’t like the idea, but I guess she thought she owed me something. Plus, I had money, which also kind of motivated her. Turns out my adoption wasn’t all that kosher. An informal arrangement, handled by some sleazy baby broker in Baton Rouge. He wasn’t hard to track down. There’s not much you can’t find out in Louisiana if you spread a little cash around.”
“He remembered the adoption? Guys like that aren’t too keen on keeping records.”
“That’s for sure. But he said mine stood out because it was the only time he was told to pay someone to take a baby. Usually it’s the other way around. Even then, I was for sale.”
Laurene’s eyes glistened. Some things hurt even tough people.
“Hey, kid,” I said, “you turned out OK. Sadie, Sadie, married lady.”
She laughed.
“Thanks. Anyway, the guy told me what I wanted to know. He needed a little persuasion, because money wasn’t enough. He was scared. Apparently the people I came from made it very clear that he was to keep his mouth shut.”
“How did you persuade him?”
Laurene smiled.
“Not the way you think. He was, like, 300 pounds and smelled like an old sock. I told you I’d never go back to the Big Easy. I never said my time there was wasted. I made a call to one of my old friends on Bourbon Street, the guy who originally set me up in New York, and he made a call to one of his paesans in Baton Rouge. Who called the baby guy. Needless to say, I got the name of my real mother. She lives in Virginia, not too far from Washington. A town called Atlas. Always has lived there, so that’s where I was born. I went to see her.”
A strange, sad look passed across Laurene’s delicate features.
“How did that go?”
“What’s that saying? Be careful what you wish for? She never married. I am her only child. She was put in a nursing home, not long after I was born. Some sort of mental problem. They say she has not spoken in years.”
“I’m sorry.”
Laurene got up and walked to the window.
“I remember this view. The harbor. The greatest city in the world. You must love it.”
“I do.”
She turned back to me, leaning against the sill. I was glad that the cleaning service had just been through. She crossed her wonderful legs, which I admired. And since I knew her real age, I didn’t feel like a molester.
“Did you find out who your real father was?”
“Some guy she met at a fair, or carnival or something. Maybe a horse show. That part of Virginia is horse country.”
“How did you learn all this out if your mother was nonverbal?”
“Her father, my natural grandfather, filled me in. He still lived in Atlas and I went to see him because that’s the address I had for my mother. He was the one who told me about her condition, and where to find her. He said my mother never really had boyfriends and they tried to protect her, but there was only so much they could do and she met some slick guy who took advantage of her. My grandfather didn’t say rape, but who knows? She was very beautiful. A real Southern belle, with auburn hair and blue eyes. He showed me some pictures of her when she was in her early teens. He said she lived at home with him and my grandmother after she had me. Then, when my grandmother died, he had to put her away when she got too hard for him to handle. There were some photos of her after her decline. She was still beautiful, but looked beaten down, like she didn’t take care of herself. My grandfather took me to see my mother. Her name is Beatrice, by the way. I told her who I was. She just stared at me. No reaction from her at all. It’s like I didn’t exist.”
“Don’t be too hard on her, Laurene.”
“At least she’s alive. And still beautiful, in a way. You can see the resemblance.” Laurene smiled. “I know that sounds egotistical, but no one ever said I wasn’t a knockout.”
I laughed.
“And no one ever will, kid. So, you haven’t been able to communicate with her in the nursing home at all?”
“I’ve tried. I’ve been back without my grandfather. I held her hand, and brushed her hair, and talked to her for hours. At one point, when I said I might move into her old house she became a little agitated. I actually thought she might try to say something. I think she made the connection then. But it only lasted a moment and then she l
apsed back into whatever world she’s in.”
“It must have been quite a shock to your grandfather when you showed up on his doorstep.”
“That’s putting it mildly. But for some reason he warmed up to me right away. Said I was beautiful and reminded him of my mother when she was young. Said he was sorry about me being put up for adoption, but they knew their daughter couldn’t care for me and they weren’t prepared to raise a baby. I found out he was a big mucky-muck in town. That probably had something to do with it. Scandal, you know.”
“This wasn’t that long ago, Laurene. Having a child out of wedlock hasn’t been a big deal in 40 years.”
“Maybe it’s a conservative town. Who knows? It is what it is. He seemed really bothered by what he and my grandmother did. Said they just wanted the baby, that was me, as far away from Virginia as possible. That’s why I ended up in Louisiana.”
None of it sounded right to me, but I kept my mouth shut. I wondered where all this was heading.
“Did you move in with your grandfather?”
“No. He badgered me to do it and believe me I was tempted. He has quite a spread. Almost like a small plantation. Like Gone With the Wind. What was the name of that one?”
“Tara.”
“Right. Anyway, while he was a big man in the area, a judge, I guess he was lonely. But I found out things had quieted down back in New York and I missed the action. I didn’t want to go back to hooking, but I wanted to see if I could go legit, maybe get an acting job. You remember I was pretty good at it.”
“You had a good teacher.”
“She damn sure was. Anyway, I came back here, enrolled in acting classes and even got some small roles off-Broadway. That’s when I met Barry. He was at the theater one night and thought he recognized me from my escort-service days. He took me out on a couple of dates and we finally slept together.” She laughed. “I’ll never forget how he looked afterward. He didn’t know whether to pay me, so he asked. He was so cute. I said he could pay me but then he’d never see me again. We got engaged a few months later. I told him the thousand bucks he didn’t pay me is going to wind up costing him millions.” She flashed her ring, again. “He just laughed.”
“What are you going to do about your mother?”
“You mean, my mothers. I have two of them to think about now. I’ve got money of my own and Barry says he’ll help if I want to keep sending something to my Mom in Louisiana, as well as do something for the one in the nursing home. I thought about moving her to a facility up North, which would make it easier to visit her, but my grandfather said she was happy where she was and it would be cruel to both of them. I could see his point.”
“If you ever decide to do it, Laurene, I can make a call. She’d be treated like a queen.”
The call would be to Arman Rahm, who had moved into the nursing home business as a way to both launder some of his family’s money and take care of the families of some of his lieutenants. They were some of the best-run facilities in the Tri-State Area.
“Thanks. But everything is on hold. Things have changed. Drastically.”
“How so?”
Laurene Robillard came off the window sill and once again sat across from me.
“My grandfather is dead. Murdered. Someone stuck an ice pick in his eye.”
CHAPTER 6 - HOOKED
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.”
“Look. It’s a bummer, I know. But I barely got to know the old fart. And he did dump me after I was born. When I found out, I was more concerned for my mother. About what would happen to her. As far as I can tell, I’m her only living relative now.”
“When did this happen?”
“Early April.”
“Has anyone been charged?”
“No. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. I want you to look into my grandfather’s murder. Find out who killed him.”
“Whoa, Nellie! The cops are pretty good at stuff like that. Why not give them a chance?”
“They’ve got less than nothing.”
“It’s only been a couple of months. These things sometimes take time.”
“Time is not on my side. Something is screwy in that town. I don’t know what, but I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck. I figured there might be a dust-up about my grandfather’s estate, since my mother is non compos mentis and I have to prove who I am. She’s been declared incompetent and someone has to make decisions for her. But the local yahoos seem to be bending over backwards to make it tough on me.”
Despite our background, I couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride in Laurene. My “Savannah” had come a long way. Now a college graduate with what only could be described as real-life experience, with her looks and moxie she’d be running charity balls at the Metropolitan Museum of Art eventually. And probably do a better job than most society airheads.
“It’s probably typical small-town bull, Laurene. You’re an outsider and the longer they drag things out the more legal fees some local lawyers will be able to rack up.”
“I know that, Mr. Rhode. But there is something else going on. I can feel it. It’s not only that they were so quick to throw my hooker days in my face. I expected that, even though I was a little surprised they dug it up so fast. Just shows how serious they are. But I didn’t expect them to say I had something to do with my grandfather’s murder because I wanted to get control of his estate.”
I wasn’t surprised at that. Laurene shows up out of the blue and her grandfather gets iced, so to speak, soon after. And she is an ex-call girl. It would take a pretty dim cop not to look into that. But it would take an even dimmer cop to pursue the theory after finding out that Laurene was probably soon going to be richer than her grandpa.
“Makes no sense. You can prove you don’t need your grandfather’s money.”
“I know. But they will use it against me in the civil matters. Barry got me some good lawyers in Washington and they tell me the lawyers representing the estate and my mother’s nursing home seem to be working together and it’s going to take time. So far, the only thing they have bent on is to allow me access to my grandfather’s house. A lot of people knew I stayed there and he even bragged about me being his long-lost granddaughter. Apparently the stigma of my birth didn’t bother him anymore. I’ll eventually get everything, but things will go smoother if you can find out who killed my grandfather. I also would like to know who killed him. He was family, after all. I’m not worried about any murder charge. I spoke to the Chief of Police. Black woman. Very sharp.”
Laurene smiled.
“I know that because she said she doesn’t think I did it. But she also said they have no clues, no suspects, no nothing. And until they find who is responsible, the lawyers will use a whispering campaign to muddy the waters and slow the process. Even though I can prove I was in New York at the time of the murder, some of the assholes are saying I could have hired an assassin. It’s a legal mess.”
“Local cops might not take too kindly to me mucking around in their investigation.”
“Tough shit, pardon my French. I know that won’t bother you. You’ve got more balls than a bowling alley.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing at that glimpse of the “old Laurene”.
She laughed, too.
“Please, Mr. Rhode. I need your help. You’re the best. You found someone no one else, including the F.B.I., could.”
“Got him killed.”
“That wasn’t your fault. It was those bastards who used me to set you up. I hope they got what they deserved.”
“They did,” I said ominously. “They are sleeping with the sturgeons.”
Arman Rahm would have gotten a kick out of that, since he was one of “those bastards”. Now one of my closest friends, he’d saved my neck on a recent case and given me Gunner as a present. At the moment he was probably in South Beach eating caviar and stone crabs with his father.
“Good. I knew you were tough. But you also have heart, Mr. Rhode. You t
racked me down and figured out the whole scam. You had every reason to hate me, but told me to be careful. You were worried something might happen to me. Not too many people would have given a damn about what happened to a whore.”
I considered the possibility that I was being hooked again. I knew that the woman sitting across from me was adept at the flim flam. But it certainly wouldn’t take much effort to confirm the bare bones of Laurene’s story, which she knew I would check. While I considered this, she reached into her purse and took out a checkbook. She wrote in it and then ripped off a check and slid it to me across my desk. It was a very large check. Large enough for me to hope that Laurene was on the up-and-up.
If that was the case, I’d head to Virginia. I hoped it was all true. There is something about murder that stirs the soul of a private detective. Almost as much as a really big check.
“I want to make some phone calls,” I said.
“Of course. But I’m not playing you again, Mr. Rhode.” She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. “The names and addresses of my lawyers. The nursing home where my mother is. My cell phone. Barry’s office number. Some other contacts. Also, some of the news stories about my grandfather’s murder. His name was Colver Elson. Judge Colver Elson. I guess that makes me an Elson, since no one seems to know who my real daddy is. But I think I’ll keep Robillard until I become Mrs. Barry Lewinsohn. Laurene Robillard Lewinsohn. I kind of like the ring to that, don’t you?”
***
I took Laurene down in the elevator and watched her get into a Lincoln Town Car with livery plates. When I got back to my office, Gunner was paws up on the window sill looking out at the harbor traffic. A pigeon landed on the outside ledge and startled him. He started barking, which in turn startled the pigeon, who flapped away awkwardly. Gunner turned to look at me. He was having a good dog day. I gave him a biscuit from a stash in my desk and told him to relax. He did. Then I started making calls. After about an hour, I had confirmed almost all of Laurene’s story. I expected a couple of callbacks that would seal the deal. It was lunchtime. I was hungry. I looked at Gunner.
THE ELSON LEGACY (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 6) Page 3