Chloe Babineaux Private Investigator

by Lisa Clancey

  Chapter Sixteen

  I sat in my truck to think about where to go next. I tried talking to people with little money. No luck. I tried talking to people with lots of money. No luck. Maybe I should try the middle-class people. I had already tried a few of those, but I’d try them again. I couldn’t be told ‘no’ any more rudely than I had before.

  My phone rang. Great, Rick. I was wondering if he was going to call me. I shouldn’t answer it. I’d make him leave me a message. Yeah, I could just hear it, ‘What’s your problem, sugar buns?’ Yeah, that’s what he would call me, sugar buns.

  So I answered, “Hello?” Perfectly innocent. I didn’t know what he meant by asking me what my problem was. I was not even going to cry. I didn’t know him well enough to cry.

  “Did I do something?” Okay, I didn’t see that coming. I did annoyed, not nice.

  “No, you didn’t. Just think about who your partner is. My brother, no—my twin brother, I’m not gonna hurt him. I would rather hurt myself first.”

  “Clearly, you don’t care who you hurt,” he said with an exasperated laugh. He was annoyed again; I can work with that.

  “You don’t know me well enough to be hurt. I’d kill or be killed before I hurt the ones I love. I’ve got work to do,” I said infuriated and disconnected. I laid my head on my arms over the steering wheel thinking. Well, that was just great. Now I was going to go house to house in a foul mood. Maybe someone will shoot at me again and give me a good excuse to shoot back. I just told him I didn’t care about him. I started crying. I didn’t fall in love over night. That was just plain dumb.

  I wiped my eyes, lifted my head and was thinking about what just happened and what day it was. What difference did it make what day it was? Absolutely none. So I thought about it until it finally hit me. It was Thursday. Okay, I’ve been on this case since…when Monday? No, it couldn’t be. It felt like I had been working this case for at least a month. Okay, maybe more like a week, not four days. I’ve been shot at, started dating…no not dating, just sort of seeing someone and broke it off with him before it evolved into something, in four days. I did get a lot accomplished this week. No, wait, the week wasn’t over there was still more to come. I couldn’t wait. Let’s not forget the cheating spouse case, which turned out not to be a cheating spouse case, so something good did happen this week.

  I went to the fifth house on my list. It was a nice house, not quite the eight hundred grand hovels I saw yesterday, but nice. It had to be a three-bedroom, two-baths number. This house actually had a garage and not a carport, which meant I couldn’t see if anyone was home.

  I made sure I had cards in my jacket pocket and opened my door when my phone rang again. Please, not Rick again. I looked, no thank goodness, it was Cheri.

  “Hey, can you talk a minute?” She knew I had work to do and people to piss off. Why was she asking me questions? Good question, I think I’ll ask her.

  “You know I have work to do and people to piss off. You just want to know what happened to my normally upbeat attitude.”

  “Yes, because you’re usually such a delight to be around. The jubilation you convey brings such elation and ecstasy to all those who are in the mere proximity of you,” she said with gladness in her heart.

  “Be glad you’re on the other end of this phone, bitch, or I’d throttle you.”

  “That’s the Chloe I know and love,” she said with a laugh. “Now, tell me what’s with all the hostility?”

  “I’m not hostile!” I yelled. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  “Ya think?” Obliviously, she was a tad tired of me.

  I took several deep breaths to calm down and said, “Cheri, can we talk about it at lunch? I have several houses to visit today and if I’m lucky I can let out my frustration on them.”

  “Yeah, no problem, I’ll be here.”

  I said bye, disconnected and it rang again. Dang, I’ll never get any work done. That was okay; I’d sit here, talk on the phone and hang up on people then go home and go to bed. It was Cody. Now what?

  “Cody! Don’t you have work to do? I have work to do. I have people to piss off. That’s what I get paid to do. Piss people off. Now, what do you want?”

  “Who stuck a stick up your butt?” He asked, annoyed.

  “Nobody stuck a stick up my butt. Why would you even ask such a thing? The next thing you’re gonna ask is who ran over my dog?” Before he could answer, I added, “I’m a woman. Why would you talk to a woman like that?”

  “Because you’re my sister and I can. And you don’t have a dog, so why would I ask who ran over your dog? Now maybe who threw your tea away Miss I Can’t Live Without My Tea.”

  “Is there a reason you called, or the jubilation I convey puts joy in your heart?” I asked as sarcastic as I could.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Jubilation and joy in my heart.” I could see him shaking his head and rolling his eyes, “I wanted to tell you I was sorry I woke you this morning. Jeeze, did you get any sleep last night?”

  “I accept your apology. And what I did last night is really none of your business. You make it sound like I have a life. Which I don’t!” I added for good measure.

  “You need a life. I know you enjoy living vicariously through mine, but you need your own,” he said seriously.

  “Yeah, Cody, I’m jealous. You get to race home to your children’s nasty, gut repellant, eye watering diapers and I don’t,” I said harshly. His kids were actually too old for diapers, but that was beside the point.

  “Oh, okay…well, maybe you should change more diapers or any diaper; you’d get over that hankerin’.”

  I laughed and said, “Thanks, Cody, I needed that, but I really have to go.”

  “Okay, be careful.” He cared even if he was a mule-headed jackass. Okay, that didn’t make sense even for me. I have to get out of this truck before I start analyzing my sibling relationship. I have issues. I need therapy.

  I walked up to the house feeling like I could kick down the door in if no one answered and searched the house myself. I’d get caught kicking the front door in so I’d go around back and break in. Yeah, then the alarm would go off and Cody and Rick would arrest me. Okay, now I was picturing Rick placing me in handcuffs.

  I need a new job. But what job could I get where I can work hours like this? I would have been fired a long time ago with any other job. I learned a long time ago on job applications when asked the reason for leaving to put something like, more money or I moved. You know, like when I was going to college in Baton Rouge, I had to move when I graduated. I couldn’t write quit before I was fired.

  I walked up to the door, rang the bell and oh, crap…I forgot her name. A woman with the tightest sweat pants and shirt that I had ever seen opened the door. I always wore mine loose for comfort but, dang, hers must have been loose around thirty pounds ago. Every bulge and cellulite bump was making themselves known through those pants. Does she own a mirror or was she in denial? It was like a car accident, you don’t want to look, but you just can’t help yourself.

  I smiled and said, “Hello,” I stuck my hand out to shake. “You’re part of the Foyt family aren’t you?” Yeah, good cover.

  “Yes, I am. How can I help you?” At least she was friendly. I wonder if it was because she felt woozy from lack of oxygen getting to her brain.

  Big smile. “I was hired to locate a painting that’s been missing for…well a long, long time that was originally in the Foyt family.”

  She was shaking her head. Not good. She took a deep breath and said, “I don’t know anything about that painting. I have never seen it. I don’t really know what it’s a painting of or if it really exists.”

  “I heard it was a painting of a house,” I said trying to jog her memory.

  “Yes, I’ve heard that. I’ve also heard it was a painting of a naked woman, and then there was the one about a naked man. And there was also the rumor it was of a naked woman and man. The list goes on. Frankly, I don’t care to see…well, I guess it
all depends on what the man looks like, now doesn’t it?” She laughed.

  I laughed too. “Yes, it does. Thank you for talking to me. Here’s my card. If you think of anything more, call me.” She waved, and I smiled and walked back to my truck.

  I sat in my truck and took notes. I found her name and crossed it out. Tina Todd turned out to be very nice but not full of information.

  Could it be blackmail? Was that why the painting was hidden? Does Petunia want to blackmail someone to pay for her children’s college education? It couldn’t be that important any longer. I mean, this thing was painted at least one hundred years ago. What difference would it make now? If there was a naked painting of me and it showed up one hundred years in the future, I’d probably want to hang it over my couch. Look, this was a painting of me pre-sags. But wait, Petunia and her mother said it was a painting of a house. Well, her mother didn’t actually say it, she wrote it, same thing, she communicated with me. They could be lying. Do nuns lie? She probably would to protect her daughter. My feeling, though, tells me it wasn’t of naked people. Even if it was, would I want to see it? My luck it would be a couple of plump bodies, her full frontal, and him—well we know it was only women that were full frontal—the men hide themselves. But if it were him just being overweight, I would rather him have some coverage. I have to get my head together this was getting me nowhere.

  I hit a few more houses. Some of the people were home; most were at work.

  I called Cheri, “Hey, I’m not gonna make it for lunch.”

  “I didn’t think you would so I made plans with Brent,” she said a bit too dryly.

  “I’m clear across town and don’t want to drive all the way to the office and back again. Gas prices are too high,” I said rolling my eyes.

  “Yeah, thought there was a good reason. It’s not like you don’t charge your clients for mileage.” I could see her rolling her eyes.

  “Yeah, well, somebody has to pay for my gas. Think about it. I’m driving a truck; everyone knows a truck doesn’t get the gas mileage as say a…Mini Cooper.”

  She laughed and said, “I love your rationalizations on why you do the things you do.”

  “You oughtta write a song. Talk to you later.” We said bye and I drove to a deli. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Cheri’s rationalizations on why I should actually go on a first date with Rick. The only person I wanted to invite to this pity party was me.

  Thank goodness no one was wearing little green berets when I walked in. I got my sandwich then sat thinking about the homes I had gone to. No one knew anything about the painting. I asked if they knew what the painting was. It varied, from house to naked people. I was going to the homes of the people that weren’t home later on this afternoon. No, more like early evening when people came home from work.

  A couple of Alexandria’s finest came in and sat down at a table next to me, but I didn’t know them. It wasn’t like I knew every cop in Alexandria. Two Rapides Parish Sheriff Deputies came in and sat with them. Well, I feel safe now. Okay, time to stop being so cynical. Dang! I can’t help it.

  This was ridiculous. I was going home to take a nap. I worked hard today; I deserved it. I left the booth and threw away my trash. I walked back to the soda dispenser and refilled my glass before leaving. I wasn’t paying that much attention to my surroundings because I was looking forward to my nap. I loved sleeping, eating and talking. I could sleep and talk, and I can eat and talk, and since I just ate, the next best thing was sleeping. As I said, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, when a small girl walked in front of me squealing. I stopped short, tripped over her and landed in the city cop’s lap.

  I sputtered and tried to get, up, somehow still holding onto my drink. Of course, they were laughing, especially the one holding me on his lap. I don’t think he was really holding me; it was more like please stop squirming.

  “I’m so sorry. I tripped over the little girl.” I was talking fast and was very self-conscious. I was sitting on a cop’s lap for crissakes!

  “What little girl?” one of his friends asked.

  “Yeah, no, I didn’t see a little girl,” said another.

  I turned to the blind one and said, “And you call yourself a police officer? You’re not very observant are you?”

  “He may not be, but I’m observing this,” came a voice from behind me. Great. Cody and Rick. This wasn’t happening. Cody was laughing, but Rick looked like he was ready to choke my seating partner. I was sure he was thinking this had to be the reason I was acting the way I was. I was seeing another man and just didn’t tell him about it.

  I shot daggers at Cody and glared at Rick and said, “I tripped over a little girl, you idiot.”

  The lap-owner I was sitting on asked, “You know my lap dancer, Babineaux?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed, “she’s my sister, and now I know how she could afford to buy that new wide screen in her apartment.”

  They all laughed including Rick, although his didn’t seem quite as real as the others. I pushed the anti-lap dancee’s hands away from me, stood up and got in Cody’s face. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Thanks for having my back, brother.” I turned to the cop I was sitting on and added, “That lap?” I shook my head, wrinkled my nose and said, “Didn’t do anything for me.” I thought about pouring my drink on his lap, but then I would just have to refill my glass and walk passed them again. So I took my drink and dignity, yeah right, and walked out amongst the laughter and ridicule. I wasn’t really listening; something about how he enjoyed it and someone hoped his girlfriend didn’t find out about the lap dance.

  I was in the parking lot walking toward my truck when I heard Rick call my name from behind. I turned, got in his face, and said, “I didn’t sit on his lap on purpose. I tripped over a little girl.”

  “I know,” he said smiling. “We saw her mother comforting her.”

  I took a deep breath, shook my head and asked, “What excuse did you use to come out here?”

  “I left the radio in the car,” he said holding up his police radio. “Chloe…”

  “Rick,” I cut in, “I don’t know if I can do this.” I shook my head and continued, “We shouldn’t have ever let it get this far.” I was not going to cry. Thank goodness I had my sunglasses on, although shading my eyes didn’t keep my voice from shaking. Why was I this upset? I barely knew the man. Nerves. It had to be nerves. That was why my voice was shaking.

  “We haven’t gotten anywhere. I want to.” He placed his hands on his hips, looked at the sky and then back at me and said on an exhale, “I’m coming over tonight so we can talk.”

  “No.”

  “Fine, then come to my house,” he said with a crooked grin. “It’s not like you don’t know where I live.” That grin. He has the sexiest grin. I don’t know if I would be able to just talk this time.

  “Fine, but just talk.” Yeah, that was telling him, Chloe. All you were going to do was talk. Don’t let him think you have something else in mind. Because you don’t. Oh, help!

  He held up his hands and said, “Whoa…I’ve never forced myself on a woman and don’t plan on starting now.” He cocked his head, narrowed his eyes and asked, “Why? Did you have something in mind?” He raised an eyebrow and brought his smile to a full grin.

  “No, I’ll see you after work,” I said while turning around. As I was opening the truck door, I heard loud talking. I sat down and turned toward the deli. Rick had the door open, and the cops inside were telling him it took long enough to get the radio and something about a lap dance. I couldn’t hear what he said back.

  I sat there looking around considering the best way to maneuver out of the parking lot with the least amount of cussing and dents. There were a few cars and several trucks in the parking lot but no one I knew. Good, maybe no one I knew was a spectator to my lap dance