by W E DeVore
He closed the file and turned back to her, pulling up the leather gloves he was wearing to make sure they were secure. “Give me the video, Q?”
She shook her head slowly and willed herself to stand up, picking up a broken bottle and brandishing it at Niko. He walked calmly over and punched her in the mouth. Q reeled backwards and he shoved her crashing into Charlie’s guitar, cleanly snapping off the inlaid headstock. One of the broken strings cut Q’s face as she fell against the practice amp, knocking it on its side. Niko coolly walked over and kicked her in the stomach. She curled around her abdomen trying to dull the sharp pain. Her fingers clutched at the headstock near her knees.
Charlie loves that guitar; he’s going to be so mad at me.
Through the rattle and the fog, the gears click into place, and Q looked at the guitar case lying next to the piano.
Niko backed up to the middle of the room and put his hands on his hips, appraising her appearance. “I think that ought to do it, now I just have to strangle you. It’s almost over now. Just give me the video and I’ll choke the life out of you just as quick as I possibly can. I promise.”
GET UP!!! Q’s body screamed. She slowly stood up on unstable legs and spat out the blood in her mouth. “You know, Tom’s right. You are a pussy. You think I was dumb enough not to make a copy?”
Niko crossed to her, wrapped his hands around her throat, and head butted her. She grabbed his fingers before he could get a tight grip and held on while her eyes went in and out of focus. “Not too hard to guess where it is. Do I really need to go torture that tranny Donna Reed wannabe?”
Panic, fear, and rage merged and screamed, "You will not die, Clementine Ayelot Toledano! You will not die!"
She raised her knee and drove it hard into Niko’s groin. He let go of her neck and slapped her again before doubling over.
“Cunt!” he roared.
Q moved her body with the hit and managed to fall backwards into the body cutout inside Charlie’s open guitar case. Her back slammed hard against the lip of the cover before her head crashed into the wall. She struggled to hold onto consciousness and focused on the pain in her stomach and the ringing in her ears, moving her fingers slowly across the velvet interior to open the accessory compartment. She used her fingernail to open the lid and slipped her hand inside, steadily keeping her eyes on Niko.
Please Charlie, please Charlie.
Relief flooded her body, temporarily relieving the pain, as her fingers wrapped around salvation and the grip of the .45. She pulled it out of its hiding place to level it at Niko, flipping off the safety and cocking it.
Niko stood up, laughing. “Now what you are going to do with that, Clementine? Do you even know how to use a gun?”
Q steadied her hold with both hands. “Let’s find out.”
She pulled the trigger, just as Niko pulled Ben’s gun out from the back for his pants. He staggered backwards, tripping over Ben, and raising his weapon towards Q. She fired again, sending him into the stained-glass wall and shattering it.
She struggled to get to her feet, holding onto the gun as tightly as she possibly could, quickly crossing the room to kick the gun out of Niko’s hand. She kept her eyes on him, watching for any movement. He was bleeding from multiple cuts and a large wound in the middle of his chest. Q’s hand started shaking and she fought to maintain her grip on the gun.
Niko inhaled suddenly before his eyes fixed, staring at the rear window. Utter silence filled the room and Q collapsed next to him as all the pain came rushing back into her body. She steadied her breath, still clutching her weapon. The low moan behind her made her jump and she turned.
Ben.
She crawled to him and checked his pulse before fumbling through his pockets for his cell phone and dialing 911.
“911 what is your emergency?” the male voice asked.
“Help me. I just killed someone. My boyfriend’s hurt, I can’t get him to wake up. Help me. Oh, God, I just killed someone.” Q started sobbing and repeating the same mantra over and over until she heard sirens and the door crashing in below her.
Meet the Parents
She stared straight ahead as the paramedic checked her eyes for signs of a concussion and cleaned her wounds. Ernst stood nearby, looking on in silent concern. She fished into her pocket and handed him the orange jump drive. “This is a video of Veronica Denton being forcibly sodomized by Senator Multer and his wife when she was maybe thirteen or so.”
“I think maybe you better start at the beginning, Clementine,” he said.
Ernst sat down across from her on the window seat. Her apartment was buzzing with the activities of various uniformed people. Ben had already been carried out on a stretcher. Q didn’t look behind her, knowing that Niko’s body still lay in the ruins of her bathroom sanctuary. She stared at the broken guitar on the floor near Ernst’s feet and took a deep breath, before telling him the truth, and everything that had transpired that day.
She started with Urian extorting money from Pete, and told him about the Athenian and Ronnie calling Niko a dolofonos. “I didn’t recognize her. I should have recognized her.”
She flinched, as the paramedic began to clean the cut on her cheek, and continued talking to Ernst. She told him about her lunch with Urian, and Ronnie blackmailing the Multers, and finding the video with Arlene. Q paused for several minutes, before continuing with Niko attacking them and how he said he’d been hired by the Multers to kill Ronnie and her.
“He killed Louis Falgoust, too. Remember that fire? It wasn’t an accident. And I got him an apartment across the hall. He lives right across the hall. You should search it, there might be something in his apartment, linking him to the Multers and whoever hired him to kill Louis. Check his phone, he said he talked to Marianne Multer about the video, after I told him. It had to have been in the last few hours. I think Urian knows what he did, too, how else could Ronnie have heard that word? And I think Urian may have tried to warn me, but I’m not sure.”
Ernst put his large hand on her knee. “Slow down, Clementine. I need you to stay calm right now. You think you can do that for me?”
Q fought back tears and silently nodded. Ernst gestured for Detective Sanger, and told him to check the neighboring apartment for evidence of Niko’s activities before asking, “Where did the guns come from, Clementine?”
“The .45 is Charlie’s. He keeps it in his guitar case for protection. It’s registered, I think. He left his guitar rig here last night, thank god. He probably didn’t even think about the gun. The other one, the one that Niko had, that one is Ben’s, from the Cove.”
At the sound of Ben’s name emanating from her throat, Q’s mental switches flipped, and she asked the paramedic, “Ben? Where did they take him?”
The paramedic finished putting a butterfly stitch on her arm and told her, “He’s still downstairs. He’s awake. He’s going to need an x-ray to make sure his skull isn’t fractured, and probably some stitches to close up that cut. We’re taking him to Tulane for treatment.”
He started to take the phone from her hand, so he could clean the cuts on her fingers. She stared at it in fascination, not realizing until now that she was still holding onto Ben’s phone. She shook her head. “Give me a second. I have to call someone.”
She looked at Ernst. “I have to call Ben’s family. That ok?”
Ernst nodded, and the paramedic held up his hands, standing back. Q scrolled through Ben’s contacts until she found what she was looking for: a simple two-letter word, ‘Ma.’ Q pressed the number and listened to it ring.
“How’s my favorite son this evening?” asked a woman’s voice on the other end.
“Mrs. Bordelon. You don’t know me. My name is Clementine Toledano,” Q said as calmly as she could.
“I know who you are, Q, what’s happened to my boy?” All the casual affection instantly drained from her voice, and it was replaced with cold resolve.
“Ben’s been hurt. He’s probably ok, but he needs an x-ray
to make sure his skull isn’t fractured, and to get some stitches, most likely. They’re taking him to Tulane soon, but the ambulance hasn’t left yet.”
“Q, honey, tell me what happened. Are you ok?” A trace of maternal affection returned to her voice and it was too much for Q to bear.
Q’s voice broke. “No. I killed someone, Mrs. Bordelon, and I don’t know what they’re going to do to me. We were attacked and I had to…” She couldn’t say the rest. “I just didn’t want Ben to be alone. They’ll tell you everything at the hospital. I’m sorry, Mrs. Bordelon, really I am. I have to go.”
She hung up the phone and looked up at her godfather.
“Are you going to arrest me?” she asked, suddenly terrified.
Ernst looked around the apartment and took her hands. “I think it’s pretty clear this was self-defense, Clementine. We don’t put people in jail for defending themselves; you know that. You’ll need to come down to the station and make an official statement. That can wait, though. Let’s make sure you’re alright first.” He turned to the paramedic and asked, “She need to go to the hospital?”
The paramedic stood Q up and began checking her abdomen and ribs. “Probably should, just to be on the safe side, but I don’t see anything serious. Everything is pretty superficial.” He looked at Q and said, “You are one tough little lady. You don’t even need any stitches.”
“Lucky me.” She attempted a smile and flinched at her split lip. The paramedic handed her an ice pack, and she sighed with relief when she put it to her face.
“You can ride with your friend to the hospital. They’re ready downstairs.” The paramedic moved to guide her out of the apartment.
“No, just get him to the hospital and make sure he’s ok. Tell him that his parents will meet him there and I’ll find him later.” She looked at Ernst. “I just want to get this over with. Can we go to the station now?”
He shook his head slowly and his careworn expression deepened. “You should get yourself checked out by a doctor. You can make a statement later.”
Q shook her head. “Please, Uncle Ernst. I just want this to be over. I don’t want this hanging over me. I won’t be able to sleep until the Multers are locked up and away from me.”
Ernst put his arm around her shoulder. “Alright, then.”
~~~
Q sat on the top step of Ben’s porch waiting for him to come home. By the time she finished at the station, he had already been released from the hospital. She closed her eyes, bone tired. Discretion was never Niko’s best quality, and the police had found everything they needed to arrest the Multers for conspiracy to commit murder, when they had searched his apartment and phone. Gus and Marianne Multer were already in custody awaiting their bail hearing and it was already all over the news.
After several long hours of trying to sort out the mess she had made by lying in the first place, and to make a full account of what had happened, Ernst finally intervened and sent her home in the back of a cruiser. Q had redirected her escort to take her straight to Ben’s. She had no intention of returning to what was left of her apartment anytime soon, if she could help it, and had a single thought rattling in her brain.
Please let him be alright.
The bruises on her face and abdomen, and the cuts on her forearms were throbbing uncomfortably, but she could barely stay awake. She had finally dozed off in the peaceful morning sunlight, when the sound of several car doors slamming jarred her awake.
Three cars were parked in Ben’s driveway. She recognized the Playboy twins driving the white Lexus in front. A boy around ten years old got out of the back seat with a tall blond woman. An older man got out of the blue sedan in the middle and helped Ben out of the passenger seat. A tall, stunningly beautiful, older woman with greying dark hair helped hold Ben up on the opposite side. They were quickly joined by four more women exiting the grey SUV in back.
Hey hey, the gang’s all here.
Q steeled herself and painfully stood up. She strode down the stairs, trying not to limp, and walked to meet Ben at the car. “They told me you’d been released from the hospital. I wanted to make sure you were ok.”
Ben nodded, his eyes ran over her black eye and split lip, resting momentarily on the butterfly stitches on her forehead and cheek. He stayed silent. Q felt his family’s accusing eyes on her.
Ben could have been killed, and it’s all your fault.
“You’ve got your family. I should have figured. I’ll go. You rest. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Q turned and started walking down the driveway to head up to the streetcar stop.
“Wait!” Ben’s voice sounded raw. He turned to his family and said, “Would one of you make yourself useful and go get her, for Christ’s sake?”
The two younger women ran over to Q and each took an arm. The women on the left introduced herself first.
“I’m Yvonne, Ben’s younger sister. That looks like that hurts,” she said, pointing to Q’s lip.
Q tried to smile and felt her lower lip start to bleed again. She self-consciously hid it with her hand. Yvonne reached into her purse and handed her a tissue. Q gratefully accepted and pressed it to her lip, suddenly realizing that Yvonne was Ben’s beautiful dancing partner a lifetime ago at Le Bon Temps.
“I’m Grace, the youngest,” said the woman on the right. “We met before at one of your gigs.”
Q didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed the family resemblance when she’d seen either of them with Ben.
Jealous much, insane person?
Within a few minutes, the entire Bordelon family surrounded her and her head began to swim in a fruitless attempt to keep the names correctly placed with all the new faces. Every one of them seemed to know her much better than she knew any of them.
They walked into the house together. Q was caught in a clutch of Ben’s sisters. He looked helplessly at her as his father and the Playboy twins helped him upstairs. Everyone else moved into the kitchen with bags of groceries, carrying Q along with them. Q was plopped down at the kitchen table while Ben’s mother began pulling out a large pot, a cutting board, and a knife.
“Thank god, you’re here,” she finally announced at Q. “That fool of a son of mine has been worrying himself sick about you. Insisted on coming home right away so he could make sure you were alright. They told him you were with the police. That hit to that head of his must have busted something loose. Good gravy.”
Q didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth and nothing came out.
“Mrs. Bordelon, I didn’t mean to…I’m so sorry…” her voice trailed off and she started to sob.
“Mama, look what you did! For the love of god, she almost died last night. Look at her!” Yvonne fussed.
Ben’s mother put her hands on her hips shouted into the other room, “Danielle, Anita, make yourself useful and get this girl a whiskey or something!”
A glass of whiskey appeared in Q’s hand. Concerned faces and voices wove around her and she suddenly felt claustrophobic as the familiar dull roaring of a panic attack started to fill her ears. Ben’s mother quickly cleared out the kitchen and closed the door.
“They give you anything for the pain?” she asked.
Q shook her head. “Just Ibuprofen and ice. I’m fine, really. It looks much worse than it actually is.”
Mrs. Bordelon nodded and reached for a dishtowel as she walked to the refrigerator. She filled it with ice and handed it to Q. “Put this on your eye and drink that whiskey. Go on. All of it.”
Q’s hands were shaking so bad she had to set down her ice pack and use both of them to hold onto the glass. The liquid warmed her throat, calming the constant fluttering in her stomach. When the glass was drained, Mrs. Bordelon smiled.
“There. You sit and keep me company while I make Ben his gumbo. And get that ice on your eye before it swells completely shut. You like seafood gumbo?” Q nodded and did as she was told. “It’s Ben favorite. All the others like chicken and sausage. Ben’s got to be different. ‘Just sea
food and okra, Ma.’ I think he just likes to be difficult.”
Wiping her eyes with the edge of the towel, Q stood up and asked, “Can I help?”
“You can help by keeping me company and keeping that ice on. You look like you should be lying down in a hospital yourself,” Mrs. Bordelon said matter-of-factly.
“No, I’m fine. Just some cuts and bruises, like I said, it looks worse…”
“…than it actually is,” Ben’s mother completed. “You’re as stubborn as my son, I swear. Just sit that little butt of yours down and see to reason.”
Q pleaded, “Please. I need to do something, anything. Just keep me busy. I’m ok now. Really. It hurts worse just sitting still.”
Mrs. Bordelon gave in. “Alright then, you can cut up the vegetables while I make the roux.”
The two of them stood quietly by the stove, Ben’s mother expertly making a roux so dark, it was the color of melted chocolate. Q silently diced the celery, onions, and peppers laid out next to the cutting board on the counter near the stove, focusing on making her cuts neat and even.
“Thank you for calling me,” Ben’s mother finally said.
Q shrugged, too ashamed that she’d gotten Ben hurt in the first place to say anything.
“I didn’t want him to be alone,” she replied, reaching for the green pepper. She cut it in half and began slowly removing the seeds.
“You and me both,” Ben’s mother said, still watching the roux. “You look a little like her, you know. Angela, I mean. Only she was just pretty. You’re a real stunner. Those eyes of yours are something else. I can see why Ben’s got himself all tied up in knots over you.” She kept stirring the roux.
“Yeah, I’m a knockout, alright,” Q said, derisively pointing to her black eye.
She finished dicing the green pepper and picked her ice-filled towel back up to put it on her pulsating cheekbone.
“Ah, that’ll heal. Your kind of beauty radiates, even through black eyes and split lips.” Mrs. Bordelon winked at her and maternally smoothed back Q’s hair. Cupping her chin in her hand, she continued, “He’s a special man, my son. I expect you know that already, but I think it’s worth saying.”