A Twisted Ladder

by Rhodi Hawk

  Angry howls erupted from the center of the street, and punches began flying. Rémi couldn’t tell what had caused the brawl. He saw Chloe stop as she found herself in the midst of rabid shouts and lunging bodies. Next to her, one man flung himself at another, and she stepped backward just in time to avoid getting knocked to the ground in a tangle of belligerents. She turned to her left and disappeared into an alley.

  “Wait!” Rémi called after her, but his voice was swallowed in the rabble.

  He pressed forward with renewed vigor, but his progress was slow. He kept an eye on the gap between buildings where Chloe had disappeared, and noticed a tall black figure moving toward it. He paused and looked back at Rémi. It was Ulysses. He followed Chloe into the alley.

  thirty-seven

  NEW ORLEANS, 2009

  THEY DID NOT IMMEDIATELY see Zenon inside the Pelican Club. Many familiar faces, including Vinny and Joe Whitney. She also saw Anita, Sam’s intern at the flower shop. She was smiling and two-stepping her way from group to group. As Madeleine wandered through the dining hall with Ethan, it struck her how many people knew this missing girl, Angel Frey. She seemed to have had just as much presence in New Orleans as in her home of Baton Rouge. And although people tend to glorify those who are no longer with us, it seemed this girl had possessed a rare heart. She was an altruist, clearly, a regular in charity and volunteer work while still holding down a full-time job, just like her parents.

  As Madeleine said her hellos, not a single person inquired about the bruises on her face. All offered sympathy about the fire, though. Likely the incident had been fodder for hot gossip.

  Ethan turned and shook hands with a very tall man whom Madeleine didn’t know. “Madeleine, this is my buddy Shawn.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said as she took his hand.

  “Ethan and I went to school together. I know your father.”

  “Oh?” Madeleine smiled.

  Ethan clapped a hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “Shawn here writes for the Times-Picayune. If you read it this morning you might have seen his exposé on Joe Whitney.”

  “That was you? I did read it. Congratulations.”

  Madeleine looked over to where Joe was engaged in conversation with some older gentlemen. Ironically, he was more likely to make appearances when in the midst of a scandal than when things were quiet. Joe looked up and caught her eye, then launched himself in her direction. She braced.

  “Ethan and Miss Madeleine!” Joe cried as if they had been triplets separated at birth. “And my good friend the executioner! I gotta hand it to you, old man, you really gave me a tar-and-feathering in the paper today.”

  “You’re certainly good-natured about it,” Shawn said mildly, and then with just a teaspoon of acid: “Because it looks like there’s going to be an official criminal investigation.”

  Joe snorted. “I’m not worried. Nothing illegal transpired, I can assure you.”

  “Least nothing they can prove. Yet.”

  “Of course you realize, I’m gonna have your head on a platter. And your ass. Both the paper and you will be named for libel.”

  Whitney was speaking loudly, much more so than was necessary for any normal conversation. Madeleine suspected he did this more for the benefit of the wider audience, the New Orleans socialites who were now looking over their shoulders at him. Zenon was looking too. He caught Madeleine’s eye. She stared back, refusing to avert her gaze. Very slowly, his lips curved upward in a smile.

  “You might want to start looking for another job,” Joe Whitney was saying, and Madeleine tore her gaze back to them.

  Shawn raised his voice to match. “Bring it on. Because I got the paper trail. Your board membership under an assumed name for the spin-off company, whose interests are currently under investigation. Your consulting fees, your approval for zoning—I even have a copy of a bonus guarantee for 268,000, plus ongoing fees that’ll earn you millions. I’d be happy to share it all in a court of law. Especially during your run for city council, assuming those rumors are true.”

  Joe’s face was made of stone. “I will neither confirm nor deny any intention to run for council.” He looked around, then leaned in, lowering his voice. “Just tell me one thing. Just one thing. Where did you get these lies?” He threw his head toward Madeleine. “Was it her father?”

  Madeleine laughed aloud. Daddy couldn’t have gotten to the inner circle of this mega-center deal. He had been notoriously in opposition to it.

  Shawn shook his head. “I see your temper is finally starting to crack, Joe, ’cause you’re losing it. You know I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “You just did.” Joe spoke through clenched teeth. “I can read it on your face, plain as day.” He turned to Madeleine. “If your father has been breaking into my home or illegally eavesdropping on my affairs, I swear to God I’ll have him locked up so fast he won’t know what hit him.”

  “You’d have to get in line,” Madeleine said flatly.

  Joe turned and made for the bar.

  Ethan regarded Shawn. “Did Daddy Blank really tip you off?”

  To Madeleine’s surprise, Shawn shrugged. “Not like it’s that big a secret. Daddy Blank already called Joe up to gloat from the cooler.”

  Madeleine gave a start. “What? What’s Daddy got to do with it?”

  Shawn looked at her in surprise. “He didn’t tell you yet? A while back, Daddy Blank contacted me about Whitney’s scheme. I would never have known where to look. He gave me names, told me what to look for, gave me every single detail. Guess he must have infiltrated the board meetings or something.”

  “No, that’s not possible,” Madeleine stammered.

  “Well, he was vague about how he got it. What matters is that it checked out.”

  Shawn’s eyes scanned her bruises. “I heard about your house. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  Madeleine made no reply. Someone else was already insinuating himself into the circle, shaking Shawn’s hand. Madeleine looked over her shoulder. Zenon was talking to Anita Salazar. Actually, Anita was talking to him and he seemed indifferent.

  I wish he’d go back to Baton Rouge and stay there.

  She noticed Vinny was walking toward her, and she and Ethan turned to greet him.

  “Howdy howdy,” Vinny said, shaking Ethan’s hand and then giving Madeleine a light hug. “I got some news about the arson investigation.”

  “Oh?” Madeleine clenched her fist.

  “Yeah. It was Daddy Blank set that fire.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Madeleine asked. “Because you can’t take anything he says into account. He’s liable to say whatever . . .”

  Vinny was shaking his head. “I know, I know it baby. Listen. The investigation showed that the fire was started by means of gasoline distributed along the front porch. A gas can was found nearby with Daddy Blank’s fingerprints on it. And honey you know he confessed.”

  Madeleine’s cheeks burned. Ethan put a hand to her back.

  “There’s more.” Vinny’s voice softened. “I know you don’t want to press charges, but the city’s going to. And your insurance company probably will too.”

  “Why would they press? . . .” But she already knew the answer.

  “That’s just the way the law works, Maddy,” Vinny continued. “Two other houses got burned bad because of that fire. We’re lucky no one was seriously hurt.”

  Madeleine had heard about her neighbors’ homes, and had been horrified that they were caught up in this.

  Vinny went on. “The fire chief talked to the DA’s office, and they’re gonna recommend that Daddy Blank get treatment in a state facility until he is no longer a danger to himself, or anyone else.”

  Madeleine let out her breath. “I didn’t realize they would put him in a hospital. That’s good, Vinny. Once he gets on that medication, he does really well.”

  Vinny smiled. “Now, there is something else. The fire chief asked about your blood results, and it appears that you had
a very serious case of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

  Ethan and Madeleine both gaped.

  “You had forty-six percent hemoglobins carryin carbon monoxide. That’s real high. If it’d been much higher, it could’ve killed you.”

  Madeleine’s hands went cold.

  Vinny said, “You must have had symptoms: headache, nausea, fatigue. Sometimes dizziness and fainting.”

  Ethan turned to Madeleine. “You said you fainted coming out of the bathtub on the night of the fire. And all those headaches.”

  Madeleine shook her head. “I put brand new furnaces in that house just a couple of years ago.”

  Vinny nodded. “They said they found severely corroded and blocked flues. The high-efficiency furnaces ain’t gonna help none when your flues are all gummed up. The gases just come in and circulate through your house. They say the chimney for the gas fireplace in your bedroom was the worst one. If your windows are open and the air circulates through, it’s not so bad. But your house was sealed up tight.”

  Ethan said, “Should she see a doctor?”

  Vinny shook his head. “They said once you get out of that environment your blood returns to normal.”

  Madeleine could hardly believe her ears. “All this time with those raging headaches, and all I had to do was open a dang window?”

  Ethan said, “Funny they just hand the lab results to the fire chief, just like that. I thought there were laws against revealing your personal medical information.”

  Vinny’s hands went up. “Don’t look at me. I’m just reporting back to y’all.”

  “Well,” Madeleine said. “They have their own way of doing things around here. But I’ll tell you what else is odd,” she paused to think it through a moment. “Really odd. Daddy said he burned the place down because the house was a vehicle of death.”

  ANITA WAS ALONE. MADELEINE looked around but didn’t see where Zenon had gotten off to. She excused herself from Ethan and Vinny and joined Anita at the bar.

  “Hi, Anita.”

  “Hey, Madeleine! How you doin?”

  “Good, good. Are you all right?”

  “Sure! Sam keeps me busy.”

  Madeleine bit at her lip. “You . . . still taking those shooting lessons?”

  Anita rolled her eyes and then nodded toward the corridor where the restrooms were. “With him? Yes. It isn’t getting me anywhere though.”

  “You came here with him, did you?”

  “No, we just bumped into each other. Not like he knows I’m alive.”

  Madeleine touched Anita’s wrist. “It’s probably just as well. He’s off, Anita. In a lot of ways.”

  “You mean he’s got a dangerous side? I get that impression too.” Anita smiled. “But that’s what makes him sexy.”

  A door opened in the corridor and Zenon appeared. He started toward them. Madeleine’s grip tightened on Anita’s wrist.

  “I’m serious, honey,” Madeleine whispered. “Be careful.”

  Anita looked surprised. “OK.”

  Madeleine felt a slight jump inside as Zenon drew nearer—the dual urge to run for the door and sock him in the stomach.

  Zenon shoved his hand in his pocket and appraised her. “Well Miss Madeleine. You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “Excuse me.” Madeleine turned to leave.

  Ethan looked up and caught her eye.

  Zenon said, “It’s a good place for pigeon games, ain’t it?”

  Madeleine stopped mid-stride. She turned toward Zenon. His eyes were dark but smiling.

  Madeleine said, “Where?”

  “The place where you went trespassing, yeah. Good place for pigeon games.”

  Madeleine took a step toward him. “What do you know about that?”

  “Why don’t you ask Miss Chloe, chère?”

  Anita was looking from Madeleine to Zenon, bewildered.

  Madeleine came closer and lowered her voice. “How did you do it, Zenon?”

  His lips parted, and his tongue ran along the inside of his mouth. “You want another lesson? I’ll be happy to show you baby.”

  Anita scowled. “Why don’t you two get a room!”

  She turned, grabbing her bag, and strode for the door.

  Madeleine felt the tug. A wash of electricity. She went directly to an inner stance of observation, not so much as a conscious means of self-defense, but more of a scientist’s riveted attention when on the verge of a breakthrough. Emotions aside, the experience itself was fascinating.

  Zenon drew his knuckle up Madeleine’s forearm. “You can be my apprentice.”

  Madeleine jerked away, his touch crossing a line that dissolved any desire to dissect this phenomenon. She turned and collided with Ethan. He looked livid.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  Ethan’s face was tense. “What are you doing over here?”

  Madeleine took his hand and tugged, trying to pull him toward the door.

  From behind her, Zenon said, “Better keep a tighter leash on your little colored girl. She comes purrin every time you look away.”

  Madeleine paused to look. Ethan’s eyes were wide. She could see the veins in his neck.

  “He’s just trying to push your buttons, Ethan.”

  Ethan tensed his jaw. He remained wooden, his teeth in a clench. Zenon stepped forward. For a flash, Madeleine recognized the delight on Zenon’s face, the way he’d looked when he was a kid, pulling his traps up from the bayou knowing they would be filled with blue crab.

  “Come with me,” Madeleine murmured, pulling gently at Ethan’s arm.

  He stared Zenon down a moment longer, then turned. His expression was like stone. They strode away from Zenon, away from the bar, and all the while she felt Zenon’s tug. Trying to possess her body. He wanted her to turn back around and . . .

  The room was silent. She wasn’t sure how long people had been staring. She kept perfectly still inside as she moved, Zenon’s clamp just as impotent against that stillness as if it were trying to grip a field of steam. She and Ethan walked through the wood-and-glass doors and were outside. Zenon’s tug disappeared.

  Madeleine breathed in to full capacity and then released just as completely. Ethan kept stride with her down the alley. Madeleine stole a glance at his face, which was still gripped in fury. She wasn’t sure what to say to him and suspected anything she did say would come out wrong.

  She heard a swell of voices behind her and knew the doors to the Pelican Club were opening.

  She and Ethan turned onto the street. Madeleine looked over her shoulder but couldn’t see into the alley, couldn’t tell who’d come out of the restaurant. Beside her, Ethan’s face hardened.

  She quickened her pace.

  “I’m not going to run,” Ethan growled, and he stopped short.

  Madeleine paused. Ethan had pulled his hand from her grasp. She looked back toward the alley. If it was Zenon who’d followed them out of the Pelican Club, they’d know in a moment.

  “We should just go,” she whispered.

  Ethan’s eyes fixed on hers. Something ratcheted into place inside him. Something awful.

  “Ethan, don’t—”

  His hand closed over her throat.

  Madeleine managed a half gasp before the intake of air sealed off. Her pulse jumped. Ethan forced her backward and pinned her against the wall. And then his grasp relented just enough to allow her to breathe. He was holding her, frozen, not attacking and not withdrawing.

  She looked to her left and saw Zenon watching at the mouth of the alley only a few feet away. His arms were folded across his chest. No delight on his face, only intense concentration.

  Ethan’s eyes were wide, almost dazed. She couldn’t move under his grip, a sensation that made her want to claw at him. But she didn’t. Nor did she scream. New instincts came forth, instincts that warned her not to give in to panic. She could see the turmoil in Ethan’s face. He clearly didn’t mean any aggression toward her; he was fighting inside. Fighting Zenon.


  “Blank,” she whispered. It was all she could manage.

  Ethan’s eyes registered understanding. Recognition of the phenomenon. But for a moment, his grip tightened around her throat and she felt her voice box press against her windpipe. Rasping. She closed her eyes and intensified the calm. Insisted that her shoulders loosen.

  Ethan’s hands released.

  She opened her eyes again. Ethan had turned from her and was walking toward Zenon. His gait was limping but steady. No sign of anger. He looked like the firemen when her house was burning; not so much intending to fight the flames as neutralize them.

  Zenon heaved his fist, and Ethan knocked it away, and then jabbed Zenon in the throat. Zenon doubled over. Ethan threw a second jab, this one knocking Zenon sideways and onto the pavement.

  Madeleine saw Ethan in profile. No veins bulging at his throat. No fury. He was calm as the mist. Zenon crawled two steps away from him and then sank into the stones.

  Ethan turned back to her. “Are you all right? I couldn’t—”

  “I know. I know exactly what happened.” She touched her neck, faintly sore but uninjured. “I’m OK. You stopped it in time.”

  thirty-eight

  NEW ORLEANS, 1920

  ULYSSES TURNED AND ENTERED the alley behind Chloe. Rémi bent his shoulder and surged through the crowd. He cursed his own drunkenness, and for having brought Chloe to the tavern. Why had he done that? He would never have brought Helen to a place like that.

  He reached the mouth of the alley and dashed in. He could see two silhouettes as they struggled. Chloe’s white handbag lay open in a filthy gutter, and Rémi could hear the sound of tearing fabric as Ulysses ripped her clothes.

  “Vile demon!” Rémi cried as he rushed Ulysses. “Let go of my wife!”

  “Your wife, hey?” Ulysses replied with surprise, his words slurring, and he let go of Chloe.

  As Rémi drew nearer, he realized he had been mistaken about Ulysses. The man attacking Chloe was white, a big, dirty brute in a worn jacket. Rémi slowed, and the man looked him over with one eye cocked.