Kicks for a Sinner S3

by Lynn Shurr

  Tommy sat up in the truck’s cab and put down the window. “We there yet?” he asked, wiping his eyes. “Hey, who tied my puppy up in ribbons?” He removed the red ribbon from the dog’s jaws. “There, now you can breathe better.”

  The pink tongue lolled out immediately, and the pup’s small sides heaved in rapid panting. Tommy freed the paws and received several grateful licks right on the lips. “Stop that!”

  He wiped his face on his forearm and leaned out the window. “Hey, this looks just like the Grand Canyon without the big hole in the ground and the pretty rocks. Are we really in Mexico? Is your house made of mud, Dad? Boy, you have a lot of cactus in your yard. Must make it hard to play here. You got some of those red flowers in pots like my mom has. Geraniums? That a satellite dish on the roof? What channels do you get here?”

  “Jesus, you got more questions than a wife after a boy’s night out, son. This here is your baby sister, Xochi.”

  The little girl wore a faded blue outfit but danced away with a lacy white pinafore embroidered across the yoke with multicolored flowers and shouted, “Soy una princesa!” She twirled and the red ribbon holding back her long, black curls came undone and flew away to land in a thorn bush like a bright bird. She had big, brown eyes with curly lashes, Billodeaux eyes, and was brown-skinned with a small, tight belly straining a dress a little too small.

  “Yeah, I understand that. Jude and Annie think they’re princesses, too, and sure act like it. Just what I needed, another princess,” Tommy said with disgust. He tried the truck door and found it locked. “Hey, hey, let us out of here.”

  Bijou sauntered over in no hurry to release him. The pup scrambled out first and began nosing around at once, still panting, probably looking for water. Tommy followed not allowing his new daddy to help him down. “I can get out myself. We have a truck just as big at Lorena Ranch.”

  “Sure you do. You got everything at Lorena Ranch.” Except a redheaded little boy. Shove that up your ass, Joe Dean, Bijou thought. “You hungry, kid?”

  “Daddy Joe and Mr. Polk always say to tend to your stock first. Macho needs some water. Somebody tied him up and put him under that hot blanket. He coulda died.”

  Bijou grinned showing off his gold tooth again. “No way. See, if I hadn’t of hidden him, the customs people would have taken him away because he has no papers. We smuggled him across the border into Mexico.” He winked as if they were partners in a serious crime. “So his name is Macho. How’d you come up with that?”

  “Corazon always says Daddy Joe is mucho macho so that must be good. She says it means manly and then some.”

  “Sounds like your maid has a crush on Joe Dean, but don’t all women?”

  “No, she doesn’t. Corazon is married to Mr. Polk who says he likes his women with some meat on their bones.”

  Someone laughed inside the house. A beautiful woman came to lean in the doorway. She had dark eyes outlined in black, long hair hanging straight down her back like a silken cape, and lips painted red showing up brilliantly against her tan skin. “I would like to meet this Joe,” she said.

  Bijou scowled. “You ain’t never gonna have the chance. Here, I brought you these earrings with real diamonds in them. Put ’em on, then get water for the dog. Pilar is your new mom, Tommy.” But she sure didn’t look like anyone’s mother. Way younger than either Nell or even Cassie, that’s what he liked about her most, that and her big tits.

  “I like,” his woman said, hooking them in her ears. She turned and went inside moving her hips the way Joe Dean’s puny wife never would and never could. By the time he took his eyes off her swaying behind, his daughter had the puppy clutched tightly in her arms.

  “You bring me a dog, too, Papi?”

  What a greedy little thing she was—exactly like Pilar. Bijou nodded at Tommy. “Well, son, you gonna stand up to her or not?”

  “No, he’s mine. You have a funny name.” He answered the challenge with an insult.

  “Xochi means flower in Aztec. Aztecs cut out people’s hearts. Papi says so. Como se llamo?” She didn’t release his puppy.

  Tommy had taken a step back at the heart comment, but now he got right in her face. “Me llamo Tommy. Let me have my dog. I can speak Spanish and English exactly like you. Our housekeeper, Corazon, taught me lots of words in Mexican.” He crossed his arms with a “so there” defiance.

  Xochi gave him a sly, sideways glance. “What you give me for him?”

  Bijou shook his head. “Just like her mama. This is your new brother, Tomas. The dog belongs to him. Go see what else I got for you in that bag. Dig out some of them pretty shoes.”

  She dropped the puppy and raced for the bag again. Her feet were bare and dirty. She needed shoes much more than a dog.

  Pilar returned and put down a plastic dish of water for Macho who slurped it up right away. She had on the dress printed with red roses, the one her breasts nearly fell out of when she bent over, a homecoming invitation if Bijou ever saw one. She’d been to the salon. Red polish covered the nails of her hands and feet. She wore his wedding ring on one slender finger and a toe ring with a tiny green palm tree showing from the open front of her sandals. He wanted to suck her nipples and each one of those digits, the kids be damned. They could play in the yard a while.

  Tommy made an astute observation, smart kid just like his daddy, his real daddy. “You look like you could be Xochi’s big sister, not her mom.”

  That laughter came again, not like church bells, more like the chimes on an ice cream truck full of goodies. “Gracias. I know my husband have another child up north. Nice you come stay with us, Tomas. Maybe you go to Brazil with us, eh?”

  “Brazil, where’s that?”

  “Shut up about Brazil,” Bijou commanded. He looked all around though not a single person was in sight, the hour still being early. He adjusted the swelling in his crotch. Nope, he should tend to business first. “I’m going over to the hacienda to tell the boss I’m back. You make sure Tommy feels at home, Pilar.”

  “Sure, Bijou. Come, Tomas. I make breakfast. Maybe you stay with us a long, long time.”

  FOURTEEN

  “We should have let Tommy get a puppy for Christmas. Nell talked me out of it. Said he was too young, but it’s all he wanted. That’s how Bijou got to him. We have piles of barn cats for the girls to chase, what difference would one dog have made?” Joe Dean Billodeaux hunched over at the long kitchen table and buried his face in his hands.

  His friend and teammate, the best cornerback in the league, Revelation Bullock sat with his quarterback. He’d gotten the call and come right over as soon as the AME’s Good Friday service ended. The Rev, only a few credits shy of his divinity degree, assisted his father at the church. With the Rev about ready to quit football and give his service to the Lord, Joe couldn’t think of a better man to have his back now.

  Connor Riley, Joe’s favorite wide receiver who had retired after a devastating knee injury at the end of season, was on his way as they spoke. Stevie, his wife, would probably be doing the driving since Connor hadn’t finished his post-surgery physical therapy yet. The couple had no kids, no commitments, but would have come regardless. He called upon these men when he needed support on or off the field.

  His wide, black face somber with sympathy, the Rev put a massive pass-intercepting hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You can’t beat yourself up about not giving the kid a dog. Nell neither. The fault lies with Bijou. The good Lord looked after Tommy last time Bijou tried to steal him and will again.”

  “But this time Bijou succeeded.”

  Sheriff LeDoux, still in Madras plaid Bermuda shorts and a red golf shirt that betrayed how he spent his holiday, finished off the pot of coffee Knox Polk made right after they viewed the security tapes. He added his usual two sugars, a large dollop of milk and stirred his cup, but spoke before raising it to his lips.

  “You know we’re always short-staffed on holidays. It’s usually quiet on Good Friday. We put on extra men at night to wat
ch for anybody coming home from crawfish boils loaded with beer. Bijou would know that and get away before sunset. Not that I’m making any excuses, but he was probably out of the parish with Tommy before you called us. My guess is he fled the state while we were still considering this a simple runaway case.”

  The sheriff took a seat. His belly pooched out over his belt, but his bare legs showed some muscle and a great tan. He sipped and wiped his bristly gray mustache with a paper napkin. “The Amber Alert is out now since you got proof of a kidnapping in those tapes, but that cousin of yours is so canaille, he’s probably halfway across Texas by now. Let’s hope the border patrol catches him.”

  “And pray,” the Rev added.

  A car door slammed. Joe did pray—that Connor had arrived, but three more doors slammed. He knew Nell had come roaring home with all the kids stuffed into the little sub-compact she used for work and plenty angry because he hadn’t returned with Tommy or given her a call to say why. Fearless on the football field, he dreaded telling his little, very pregnant wife that his rotten cousin had struck again and despite the best in security, made off with their son.

  Dean opened the door for his mother, but his daughters flowed in around her and stopped dead in their little red sneakers confronted with a room full of big men. Loving to climb on his broad back, they knew the Rev well, and Knox of course, but the sheriff would have to be introduced and explained. Nell kept right on coming though, and tossed down in front of Joe a soggy roll of newspaper with a few red claws protruding where they’d punctured the wrapper.

  “Your mother sent your dinner and some for Tommy since you didn’t return. There’s cake in the car, too, if the kids haven’t crushed it. Wait. Sheriff LeDoux. Was Tommy hit by a car on his way over here? My God! Rev, is that why you’re here? Tommy is dead!”

  Almost relieved the truth wasn’t quite as bad as that, Joe took her onto his knee and held her tight. “As far as we know, Tommy is fine. Bijou came back and took him to Mexico, we believe. No word from the bastard yet.”

  “What’s a bastard?” Jude asked.

  “I am,” said Dean. “Because my mother and dad didn’t get married, but that doesn’t matter now because Mama Nell adopted me after my birth mother died.”

  Nell and her “always tell the truth policy,” sometimes Joe could do without it. He saw the Rev suppressing his grin, but the sheriff seemed impressed by the explanation. “Smart boy,” he said and patted Dean on the head.

  Dean shook off the pat. “Why is Tommy in Mexico?”

  Smart and quick, quarterback material for sure, Joe thought for only a second before his thoughts veered back to his second son. Nell sank against his chest and murmured, “My God, my God, awful things happen to small children in Mexico.”

  “As a law enforcement officer, I can tell you bad things happen to kids everywhere. Now, I’ve arrested Bijou a time or two and can say he is no child molester, though he does have an eye for younger women than he should. I don’t believe anyone raised by Hal and Flo Billodeaux would harm his own son, so let’s not worry about that now. My guess is we’ll get a ransom call or note. That’s what we’re waiting for right now. Want me to get that cake out of the car for you?” Sheriff LeDoux offered.

  “I’ll fetch it.” Knox walked outside without further remark.

  Another car pulled up, one door slammed. The other opened quietly and shut gently. A few moments later, six-foot-five, blond, and Nordic Connor Riley hobbled in pushing open the door with his cane. He’d made great progress since the last time Joe saw him on a walker days after knee surgery. His equally blond, tall wife Stevie caught the door before it rebounded. Almost model pretty, but too athletic for strutting runways, Stevie did look mighty attractive today, her complexion glowing, her fine breasts pushing out of a snug blue top that brought out the color of her eyes. Sometimes, Joe couldn’t help himself when it came to sizing up every woman he laid eyes on, but he did keep his thoughts to himself since marrying Nell. Still, he suspected his wife knew and gave him a pass on an old habit that hadn’t died yet. Now, he felt Nell’s back stiffen against him.

  “You called Connor before telling me?”

  “He had farther to drive, but I guess Stevie was behind the wheel. You must have put the pedal to the metal, girl.” Nell regarded Stevie as her best friend next to the Rev’s wife, Dr. Arminta Green Bullock, one reason Joe had summoned them both.

  “We were in Baton Rouge. Connor was signing autographs at a charity event for homeless kids. We did make real good time crossing the swamp causeway.”

  “Yeah, the state trooper let us go after we explained the situation and signed his ticket book. Even gave us an escort all the way to Breaux Bridge. At least my autograph is still good for some things. Next time we drive in a rush like that, I’ll be behind the wheel. The doc says so.” Connor squeezed Stevie against his hip with the hand not holding onto the cane. She blushed, tough Stevie Dowd Riley, who jostled shoulder to shoulder with male sports photographers and came up with great shots, blushed.

  The Rev got up and pushed two chairs forward. “Take a seat, Connor. Take a seat, Mama,” he said to the couple.

  Nell pushed from Joe’s lap and went to hug Stevie. “You’re pregnant. How wonderful! How far along are you?”

  “Going into my fourth month.”

  “And not even showing. Look at me, not even three months yet, and I am bulging already. You look great.”

  “Thanks, I’m taller than you, that’s all. So sorry about Tommy. Tell us how we can help, and we will.”

  “Tommy.” Nell burst into tears. Stevie embraced her friend and cried along with her.

  Great, now he had two emotional pregnant women to worry about. He’d called Connor and Stevie to have his friend and one usually very sensible woman on hand. “I don’t understand how this happened, Con, with your surgery and rehab. How?”

  Stevie mopped her tears on the sleeve of Connor’s white dress shirt. “What Joe, you never heard of the woman on top position? You can get pregnant that way, too.”

  Good, Stevie hadn’t lost her moxie in a sea of female hormones. Now if only Dr. Mintay Bullock, as the Rev’s wife was also known, would arrive and put a lid on all the tears, using tranquilizers if she must. No, that would be bad for the babies.

  As if reading Joe’s mind, the Rev said, “Mintay will be here soon. She had to stay behind to organize the placing of the Easter lilies for Sunday. The sisters of the church listen to her. Otherwise, they get into spats when it comes to decorating, the lot of a preacher’s wife.”

  On cue, Arminta Green Bullock, slim, light-skinned and still dressed for church, arrived with her hands clutching a potted white lily with four huge blooms. Their fragrance filled the room. “I thought these might bring you hope and comfort.” She placed the flowers on the table where their scent helped to mask the boiled crawfish aroma. Her twins and Little Joe followed her, making Nell suddenly aware of the other children, her children, standing wide-eyed in the kitchen.

  “Dean, you and the girls take Connor and Riley and Little Joe to the game room. You can play until bedtime.”

  “I wanna stay and help save Tommy.”

  “You can’t do that now. Go play. We’ll let you know what you can do later.”

  Accustomed to obeying their mother and wheedling their father, the children left. The second the kids disappeared, Mintay joined the huddle of women and started to cry. “Oh, poor, poor Tommy.”

  “You aren’t pregnant, are you?” Joe asked.

  “I’d better not be,” the doctor answered, shooting a green-eyed stare at her husband. “I told Rev with Little Joe coming right on the heels of those two big twins, I was done reproducing.”

  “That’s a relief.” Joe looked around. Knox Polk silently cut the coconut cake on the counter. For some reason he seemed a little sheepish. Knox sheepish? That didn’t make any sense. Had he stolen a lick of icing? No big deal.

  “Anyone want cake? Shame to waste it. It’s the kind with the
sugar syrup soaked in between the layers and fresh grated coconut on top,” Knox said.

  “What is this, Cake Boss? No, we’re all here to figure out how to get Tommy back safe and sound,” Joe insisted.

  “Um, I’ll have a piece of that. Missed my dinner coming over here,” the sheriff explained. “Got any more coffee?”

  Stevie’s stomach gurgled. “Sorry, I’m always hungry these days. I’d like a piece, but no coffee unless you have decaf.”

  Yet another car arrived. Only one slam. Corazon, back from Easter egg decorating with her husband’s family, entered the kitchen full of good cheer as usual.

  “You all have a good Good Friday, no? You having a party without me? Oh, cake! MawMaw Nadine’s coconut, I bet. Cut me a big slice, querido. I make coffee for everyone.”

  “Not decaf,” Joe implored.

  Corazon waved a chubby hand his way. “Oh, you been drinking decaf since the little frozen babies come out of the icebox.”

  “Never mind. Corazon, my cousin came back and took Tommy to Mexico, kidnapped him.”

  “Not my Rojito, my little Rojito, and this time I not here to save him!”

  More tears, they’d soon drown in them like that chick, Alice in Wonderland. Joe sized up his housekeeper, Knox’s wife of several years. Always on the heavy side, she’d lost her waistline again. The tears flowed down her round, brown face and dripped off her short chin. She had a few threads of gray in her thick, black Latina hair now. One thing Joe knew about Corazon for sure. She adored children, especially his children, and wanted her own more than anything. So far, this wish had been denied as she aged. Knox didn’t care one way or the other. He’d been in the military long enough to appreciate a good meal and a warm bed shared with a loving woman, but evidently, he’d finally fulfilled his wife’s one desire.

  “You’re pregnant, right?” Joe asked.

  “We were gonna tell you soon. I asked your mama to include me in her novena for the little frozen babies. Your mama, her prayers got power. I think Mother Mary might be a little bit afraid of her.”