Chloe Babineaux Private Investigator

by Lisa Clancey

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  I woke up looking at the back of the barn. I couldn’t move. My hands were tied to a center pole, and my legs were duct-taped together. I jerked around trying to get loose, but all that did was make my wrists hurt and my head throb.

  Someone walked up beside me and growled, “’Bout damn time you woke up.”

  I stared at him, scared out of mind. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I could hear it beat in my ears. I couldn’t breathe; I was taking short breaths and was getting dizzy, and I really wanted to throw up. I concentrated on taking deep breaths through my nose but forgot to exhale from my mouth but that was okay, I was feeling a little better now. Yeah. Like being tied up with a goofy looking man standing over me was better.

  The goofy man was short, had a round face with his hairline starting in the middle of his head. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but his hair was thin and cut straight to the collar. When I said style, I meant no style. His hair had absolutely no style. His nose was too small, and he was about forty pounds overweight. I had never seen this man in my life. Was he the one stalking me? I was the stalker. I did not like being the stalkee. I didn’t know if this was the man who hit me with my shovel. My shovel. Why did I put my shovel down? Oh yeah, I dropped it on the ground when I went in the trees to pee. It seemed like a dumb thing to do now, but at the time I was alone, so it didn’t make any difference where I dropped the shovel.

  I didn’t answer him. What was I supposed to say? “Yeah, thanks for letting me take a nap? Oh by the way, I’m not into S and M.”

  “Where is it?” he asked pacing back and forth in front of me. I wish he would stop. I wasn’t fully awake yet, and he was making me nauseous. Well…more nauseous.

  “Where’s what?” I said acting like I had no idea what he was talking about. Was he talking about the painting or the...whatever was hidden?

  “The picture, bitch. Where’s the picture?” Did he just call me bitch? He said ‘picture’ so he must not know about the whatever.

  “I don’t know where it is. If I knew where it was would I have been walking round and round the barn, you moron? Ow.” He slapped me. Clearly, he doesn’t like to be called a moron.

  “You have an idear, don’t you, Chloe?”

  “Wait. We need introductions here. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  He slapped me again and said, “Don’t you know who I am? You don’t think I look like my daddy?”

  “Stop slapping me so I can look at you!” I said, grinding my teeth. The slaps hurt, but I wasn’t going to cry. I stared up at him and shook my head, “No. I don’t recognize you. Who’s your daddy?” Did I know who his daddy was? Did he know who his daddy was? Was his daddy a client at one time and his mother took him for everything including Jr.? Jr. was a bit old for me to have worked for his mother unless he still lives with his mother. Daddy should rejoice.

  “You got my daddy convicted, bitch.” He slapped me on the other side this time. Good, equal pain. I hated when only one side of my face was slapped. I spit, no blood. Yet. He was slapping with an open hand so it could have been worse. Not much, but some.

  “Okay. Hold on. If you get to call me bitch, I get to call you something. Let’s see; I could call you, moron, shit for brains, asshole, inbred, dickless, dick breath…” Another slap. Harder that time because everything went black for an instant. I shook my head to straighten it out and then continued my diatribe. “Alright, you don’t like dick breath. I can work with that. What if I just called you asshole and you call me bitch? Does that work?” Slap. I guess not. I was not going to cry. He was not going to bring me to tears. But dang! The bitch slap he gave me stung like a son of a bitch. I didn’t know what that exactly meant, but it went with the moment.

  “No, you cain’t. My name is Frank Boudreaux Jr. Do you remember Frank Sr., bitch?”

  Ah yes, Frank Boudreaux Sr. His father raped me. “I see the nut didn’t fall far from the tree, Little Frank.” Probably shouldn’t have said that.

  “Don’t call me Little Frank.” Another slap. This time I think I was bleeding near my right eye. I could feel something warm running down my cheek. I noticed he didn’t say anything about being called a nut. He was probably used to being called a nut.

  “Well, let’s be frank, Frank. Your father raped me, and you have me tied up. You are just like your father, asshole.” Another slap. I really have to stop pissing him off, I was getting dizzy, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

  “I’ll finish what my daddy started. I’ll have you. All of you, after you tell me where the picture is,” he snarled.

  “Well, I have to be frank, Frank. That’s no way to entice me to tell you where the painting is.”

  “Stop saying Frank, Frank.” Slap. He really didn’t like that.

  I kept my head hung to the side for a minute or two, then raised it and said, “That is your name, Frank. Surely, you know that. But I guess you don’t want to be called Shirley either.” I tried laughing. But it sounded like a cough when he slapped me.

  He took his knife out of a sheath on his belt. I didn’t notice that knife. I should have been paying more attention. I was so silly; I didn’t know where my head was. Oh, I know, I was trying to keep it on my shoulders.

  He grabbed my T-shirt by the collar and using the tip of his very sharp knife cut down to the bottom hem of my shirt. He didn’t cut my bra, so I was still covered. Crap, he had cut my bra. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. My breaths were shallow and almost nonexistent. Not only was I terrified and I was sweating, but he had the worse halitosis I had ever had the misfortune to come across. His breath alone made me want to pass out.

  He moved my cut shirt and bra aside with his knife point and grunted, “Damn. I’m a boob man, and you don’t have much to offer.”

  “Sorry to disappoint. But I’m told I have a nice butt,” I said trying to keep my voice from shaking. It came out shaky and whispery. Dang!

  “Good, you’re scared.” He laughed. “Now tell me where the picture is.”

  “I told you, I don’t know,” I said it slow so he could understand me. He backed off; now I could breathe without the fear of throwing up. Unfortunately, he slapped me again. I was bleeding from the other side now. He must have been trying to make me look symmetrical. Time. I needed to stall for time.

  “Don’t take that tone with me!” He slapped me several times across my mouth and cheeks.

  “Stop, stop. You have to give me a break between slaps, asshole, or I’m gonna pass out.” I spit on the floor and yep, my mouth was bleeding. But he did quit hitting me. I could barely talk, and I couldn’t hold my head up. I don’t know how he heard me; it was very whispery.

  He was going to kill me. Even if he didn’t mean to, I knew he was going to kill me. I had to keep him talking or busy without raping me or using his knife until Rick and Cody got there. Please, please let them be on their way. God? Are you listening? My mother being home wasn’t a big deal, and I was sorry for praying that she wasn’t. But you know death and rape was a big deal—especially when it was happening to me. No. I shouldn’t say that. It was a big deal when it was happening to anyone.

  I had no idea what time it was. I could have been out for an hour, or it could have been five minutes. I was hoping I was wasting enough time for my heroes to get there.

  “You know this could go a lot faster if you’d just tell me what I wanna know,” he said pacing around again. His pacing was agitated, and he was starting to sweat profusely. Not a good sign. I knew why I was I sweating profusely, but it scared the hell out of me that he was as well. Was he going to cut and run? Was I going to be the one being cut?

   “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” I tried laughing. “Though the reward for telling you is so persuasive maybe I should just lie.” Yeah, that got me another slap.

  He stopped and placed his big-ass knife near my throat and looked out through the barn door. There was a lot of light coming in, come to
think of it, so he must have thrown both doors open.

  “Stop where you’re at!” he yelled. I had no idea who he was talking to. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere; I was sort of tied up.

  “I’ve stopped. Come talk to me. Let her go.” Oh, my God! That was Cody. I leaned over as much as I could so I could see Cody. That didn’t help much; I could only lean over about four inches.

  I must have looked like an idiot trying to twist around so I could see Cody. I couldn’t see him. So I scooted my rear end around to the side slowly so I could see him. My friend Frank didn’t like that.

  “Stop moving, bitch.” He slapped me again, and I heard Cody grunt. He must have been closer than I thought.

  “No. I want to see who’s walking up, asshole.” Frank brought up his hand to slap me. “Don’t slap me. You called me bitch remember? You call me bitch; I get to call you asshole.” I tried glaring, but with two swollen eyes, that was easier said than done.

  I kept scooting, and Frank didn’t stop me. He was watching Cody and said, “Don’t come any closer. Lift your jacket and empty your pockets. I want to make sure you don’t have anything on you.” He paused and then added, “I’m gonna cut her ifin’ you do somethin’ stupid.”

  “Okay, okay, I have nothing. It’s just my cell phone” He reached into his shirt pocket and lifted his phone out and then put it back.

  Frank placed the point of the knife on my throat and then said to Cody, “Turn around! Now!” Frank was sounding stressed.

  “Okay, okay, I’m turning around.” Cody sounded very calm.

  I wasn’t feeling calm with a knife in my throat. “You know, Frank, as much as I would like you to carve your initials in my throat, I don’t like to bleed unnecessarily.” Thank you, Jesus. He moved the knife, so it wasn’t touching me.

  I looked at Cody and tried smiling. Cody tried smiling back. “Are you okay, Chloe?”

  “Yeah. I’m just peachy.”

  “How do you like your sister now, dumb-ass?” Frank snarled.

  Cody didn’t say anything. He was a better man than I am because I had to say something. What was he going to do, hit me again?

  “Oh, tell me you didn’t just call him dumb-ass. That gives him a reason to call you a name,” I laughed. “Hey Cody, try shit for brains or…”

  He slapped me twice and was bringing his hand up again or so I thought, I couldn’t see it with my head hanging down, when I yelled, “Stop! Just stop. You know you have to give me a break between slaps or I’m gonna pass out.” I spat blood out of my mouth and closed my eyes, but he had stopped slapping me. It took me a few minutes to raise my head and to realize he wasn’t going to hit me again.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” Cody asked through gritted teeth.

  “I want the picture,” Frank said swinging his knife around toward my chest. My shirt being cut open for all to see was humiliating, but I wasn’t going to let Frank know that. Well, mostly open for all to see. I was thankfully partially covered.

  “Hey, Cody, meet Frank Boudreaux Jr. He’s informed me after I tell him where the painting is he’s gonna rape me.” I laughed, “You can see how I jumped at the opportunity.”

  They stared at each other. Cody was clenching his fists, and Frank was looking at him wide-eyed and turning a little pale.

  “Frank, does this mean you aren’t gonna rape me?” I said sounding disappointed. “Oh, darn.” I looked at him hard and with narrowed eyes, which was easy because they were swollen and I couldn’t open them very wide in the first place. “I mean, seriously. The thought of you touching me was making me queasy.” Slap. Okay, maybe I deserved that one. On second thought, no, I didn’t.

  “I’m gonna beat the shit out of you when I get untied. I’m gonna kick your gonads up between your eyes so you can watch yourself pee!” I said spitting blood.

  “Shut up, bitch!” He was getting nervous. His voice was a little shaky. I wasn’t sure I liked a nervous Frank. What was he going to do with that knife?

  “You know, Chloe is pretty beat up, Frank. Why don’t you take me instead?” Cody was trying to negotiate. He’s not a negotiator. He’s more of a beat the pulp out of you first and then talk kind of guy.

  “Do you know where the picture is?” Jr. asked with narrowed eyes.

  “No. But obviously Chloe doesn’t either, or she would’ve told you by now.” With the promise of rape? I don’t think so, bro.

  Everyone was quiet for a minute thinking about that. I didn’t want to trade places with Cody. But I also knew that if he could get closer to Frank, he could take him down without much effort. Rick must be there somewhere. Cody was biding his time drawing Frank out.

  “No. I don’t want you gittin’ any closer.” Obviously, Frank wasn’t as stupid as he looked.

  “You really don’t want to come closer, Cody. His breath is enough to knock over a hippo.” I just couldn’t help myself. I could always blame it on brain damage. I was shot and got a concussion, I was hit with a shovel, and now I’ve been hit about a hundred times across the face. This couldn’t be good for my cognizance.

  “Why can’t you just shut up?” Frank asked me.

  “Because as long as your hitting me, you aren’t using your knife on me, asshole!” I thought I was going to get slapped several times. But all he did was stare at me. Cody was looking at me like, ‘huh?’

  “Are you hurt anywhere else, Chloe, or just brain damage?” Yeah, he was my brother, and he loved me. He was trying to distract Frank by making him think I had something wrong with me. Nope. He was my brother, he was telling me, ‘you must really have brain damage to say something so asinine.’

  “No, just brain damage. Surely, just by looking at me you don’t think I have anything else wrong with me.” I looked at Frank apologetically and added, “Oh, my bad, I didn’t mean to call you Shirley, Frank.”

  Frank brought his hand up to hit me, and I said, “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. You’ve hit me so many times a few of my teeth are getting loose, and I don’t have dental insurance.” I’ll be. He didn’t hit me.

  Frank opened his mouth to say something, and I butted in, “You know, Frank, I’ve been sitting here so long that I’ve come to notice something.” Frank looked at me interested. “I think I know where the painting is. You see how the sun is shining in from the door?”

  Frank looked at the door trying to see what I was talking about. Cody slightly nodded. I was right. Rick was out there somewhere, but he couldn’t get a target on Frank from where he was. Frank was too far inside the barn in the shadows. I had to get him closer to the door. I didn’t know what kind of weapon Rick had, but it had to be better than my .22.

  “Help me up, and we’ll walk to where the sun is coming in. I think whoever hid it had to hide it close to the door where more light comes in because if you notice, this place has no electricity.” The BS I was giving him was only ankle deep. I was hoping to make it knee deep. I was just hoping Frank was freaking out enough not to pay that much attention to the BS factor. I couldn’t think of anything else, and I was getting really tired of getting slapped. By this point, it was getting very difficult to hold my head up.

  Frank glanced at Cody’s shirt with RPSD embroidered on his chest and then looked at the door again and asked, “Where’s your partner? Don’t ya’ll work with partners?” He was nervous about going to the open door. I would be, too, in his shoes. But I wasn’t in his shoes. I wanted his shoes to be pointing toward the sky or the barn ceiling; it didn’t matter to me which one.

  “He didn’t come with me,” he said looking straight at Frank and not at me. I knew he was lying. I had been talking to Rick when I was hit with the shovel. “I took the rest of the day off to help Chloe and her wild goose chase.”

  Frank took a couple of steps closer to the door, stopped and looked hard at the surrounding trees. Unfortunately, he was still in the shadows.

  “Come on, Frank,” I said trying to talk him into moving closer to the door by speaking softly and calmly. Whe
re I dredged up calm is beyond me. “Cut my legs loose, and we’ll walk over to the door to take a good look around. Come on; we’ll go together.”

  “Where’d we start looking?” he asked, glancing at me and then back at Cody. “You have an idear, do you?”

  “Well…not really.” Give me points for being honest. “But if we look around maybe we can see something different on the ground.” I shrugged my shoulders. Not easy since they were tied behind my back. “It won’t hurt to look around. You know, maybe stomp the ground listening for something hollow.” Please, please get closer to the door.

  “I don’t know,” Frank said narrowing his eyes at Cody. “His partner could be out there somewhere.”

  “Why would I lie to you, Frank? You have my sister. I wouldn’t risk her life by lying to you.” He shook his head looking like he really meant it. Well jeez, he is risking my life because Rick was out there somewhere ready to take him down.

  “You can think about the pros and cons as long as you want, Frank,” I said, trying to hurry him up with a decision. “But I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Frank looked at me like I had a third eye. Okay, Cyclops I may be, but something had to make him go near the door. Yeah, I knew Frank wouldn’t let Cody take me to a nice private area to do my business. Or as my cousin, Ryan says, pop-a-squat in the woods. But I didn’t care; I just had to get him near the door. Cody was looking at me like, ‘that might just work.’

  “Don’t even think about getting close enough for a peek, junior,” I said narrowing my eyes.

  “No. That won’t work,” Frank said shaking his head. “I have to keep you near me.”

  “Fine. But if I pee my pants it’ll be all your fault.” It was worth a try. I really didn’t think he would go for it. But just think how stupid I’d feel if I did pee my pants and he said, ‘You should have told me you had to go to the bathroom.’

  “You know, Frank, it’s a good idea to search for the painting,” Cody said without changing his expression. I noticed he didn’t say anything about searching near the door. Why push our luck. What luck? I was still duct-taped to a pole.

  Frank walked to my feet and cut my legs loose while jumping back and keeping an eye on Cody. I would have kicked him, but my feet had been crossed when duct-taped so my top leg was asleep. He then walked behind me and cut my hands loose.

  “Freedom! Sweet freedom,” I called to the world waving my arms around. They were sore, but I had to get the circulation back into them somehow.

  “Get up,” Frank grunted.

  “I can’t. My butt’s asleep, and it’s not nice to wake the sleeping.” I should have jumped up and ran, but my butt really was asleep. “Hey, Cody, is this the tingly feeling you get when I have sex? You know, since we’re twins and all.”

  “Yeah, tingly,” Cody said, looking at me like I was crazy. Probably because of the Cyclops thing I had going.

  “I’m not telling you again.” Frank glared. “Get up.”

  “Okay, listen, why don’t I get up now?” I said pushing myself to a standing position, groaning and moaning. I wasn’t only putting on a show for Frank; I was really sore.

  Frank was behind me in a heartbeat holding his ever present knife to my neck. He was persistent anyway. I was just as scared now as I was when Cody wasn’t with me. My heart rate had slowed down to a sluggish marathon runner’s pulse but now had picked up the pace. I was sure his knife was pulsating alone with my heart beat. I was breathing shallow. I think I actually forgot how to breathe. We were about the same height, so his mouth was next to my ear and unfortunately my nose.

  “Walk slow and don’t do anything stupid,” he whispered in my ear.

  “You really need a mint, Frank,” I said with a hoarse whisper.

  We walked together which looked like a strange dance. We got tangled up few times until we figured out a way to walk together while I held my shirt closed. I was lucky I didn’t get stabbed while tripping.

  Cody walked over to us and Frank yelled, “Back off or I’ll cut her.” I flinched, and he pushed the knife harder into my neck. The point of the knife going into my neck hurt and I felt blood oozing down my neck.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll back off,” Cody said holding his arms up.

  We danced over to the doors, and I made him stop. “Wait. We have to stop. I’m gonna throw up.”

  “What?” We stopped, but he didn’t let go.

  “You hit me with a shovel and slapped me around, you dope,” I said with my hand over my mouth. I wasn’t pretending; I really did have to puke.

  I swayed toward him, so that took him off guard and made him stumble to the right. I leaned to the left turned my head and threw up. I heard a loud bang but kept going down with a heavy weight on top of me.

  I was shot. I couldn’t move. Why do I keep getting shot? There was a pressure in my ears and loud ringing. Everything started turning black. I thought I was dead.