Big Easy (Cowboy Craze)

by Sable Hunter

  Easy was saved from answering by Philip’s arrival. “News.” He held up a printout. “The soil samples came back negative. We can proceed clearing the area for pastureland.”

  “Great.” Jed put his hat on his head. “You joining us tonight, boss?”

  “I hope to. We’ll see,” he answered absently. “I have to meet a game warden later this afternoon. He wants to investigate where we found the bear trap.”

  “Speaking of…” Jed pointed to Philip’s injury. “How do you feel?”

  “Oh, I’m good as new.” He slapped Easy on the back. “I’m just grateful help was near when I needed it.”

  “I’m glad I could help, but I think you were in pretty good hands with Miss Rabalais.”

  “Hey, Philip, if you think you might come tonight, why don’t you ask Wren to join us?” Jed looked toward Easy for backup.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” Easy agreed. “She can help us celebrate the rebirth of Belle Chasse.”

  Philip seemed to consider their proposal, then announced, “I’ve already asked her. She said no.”

  Easy and Jed looked at one another in surprise. Before they could respond or comment, the phone rang. “I gotta take this,” Philip told them, indicating he’d rather do it in private.

  “Sure thing.” Easy pulled on his rain poncho and followed Jed out the door.

  “If I don’t talk to you again today, I’ll meet you at the Blue Goose about seven.”

  “I’ll be there and I’ll buy the first round,” Easy promised as Jed headed for his horse.

  “Sounds good to me.” Jed saluted him as they rode in opposite directions to check on their crews.

  * * *

  Jewel didn’t often make house calls, but today she was making an exception. A little after eight, she received a request from an unusual source – Deputy Truman Lawson. Her dealings with law enforcement were iffy at best. The one or two times someone had requested for her to take a reading to help solve a crime, the authorities not only belittled the petition for her aid, they ridiculed any guidance she gave them. Jewel knew for a fact some of the information she’d provided had been used to solve the cases. So, to be contacted by Lawson for assistance was a surprise, to say the least.

  In a way, she was glad for the opportunity to get out of the house and be involved with something. Anything to take her mind off her own troubles. When she arrived at the small home west of town, Lawson met her at the front yard gate. “Miss Baptiste.”

  “Deputy.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I called you because my dad insisted on it. Apparently, he had some dealings with your mother a few years back.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.” Jewel waited patiently for an explanation as to the need for her visit. “So, how can I help you?”

  “My mother’s missing. A silver alert. Even though she’s been diagnosed with dementia, my dad has insisted on keeping her at home.” As he explained, she followed him across a lawn that desperately needed a good mowing and up a pair of rickety steps onto a porch badly in need of a paint job. Jewel wondered why Truman Lawson didn’t take better care of his aging parents. “Our department has looked into Mom’s disappearance, but our resources are stretched thin – what with the murder and all. I spend every spare moment I have looking for her and we have friends doing the same thing. Unfortunately, it’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “I see.” Jewel let out a shaky breath, wondering what the deputy would say if she told him she might be able to help with the murder investigation. “When was the last time anyone saw your mother?”

  “Well, come on in. I’ll let Dad tell you the story.” He held open the screen door. “His body is frail, but his mind is as sharp as a tack.”

  “All right.” She stepped into the home, which was so dimly lit her eyes needed a few seconds to adjust. Clutter abounded everywhere – stacks of newspapers, folded clothes, even unopened boxes of Christmas decorations. The one thing she was grateful not to see – was a ghost. If old Mrs. Lawson was dead, she wasn’t haunting her husband and home.

  “This way, Dad is in the living room.”

  A few steps later, Jewel was led to sit on a couch in front of a worried looking old man. His shock of white hair was sticking up, probably from being raked through repeatedly by a worried hand. The clothing he wore was drab and his skin was pallid and grey. The only bright thing about him was the intelligence shining out of his eyes. “Hello.”

  “Dad, this is Jewel Baptiste.”

  “So glad to meet you, Jewel. My name is Ike Lawson. Thanks for coming to help me. I am very fond of your mother.”

  “Dad…” Truman Lawson seemed uncomfortable. “Just get on with your story.”

  “Sit.” Ike gestured to Jewel. “Get the girl something to drink, Truman.”

  Jewel held up a hand. “I’m fine. Tell me about your wife, Mr. Lawson.”

  “All right.” He let out a long breath. “I took Imogen to the senior center south of town for bingo night before last. She loves bingo. I have to play both of our cards, but that’s okay.” He smiled sadly. “We’d just won a pot and I’d drank two grape sodas. I asked a friend of ours, Dottie, to watch Imogen while I went to the bathroom. She said yes, so I left.” He threw up his hands in despair. “How did I know Dottie’s daughter would come pick her up about that time? She asked someone else to watch Imogen…” Ike put both of his hands over his face. “When I came out of the bathroom – she was gone. I looked everywhere. Everyone looked everywhere.”

  The deputy knelt down by his dad and addressed Jewel. “As you might know, the senior citizen center is built in a former rice field. There are no trees, no other buildings nearby, no place to for her to hide. We searched the surrounding area, but there’s no way she could’ve gotten very far on foot.”

  “So, you think someone took her? Have you checked with all her friends?”

  Truman Lawson looked annoyed. “Of course, we checked with all the regulars. Nothing.”

  Ike reached over and placed his hand on Jewel’s knee. “I know what you can do. I saw your mother look at a map of New Orleans and tell Maxine Roberts where to find her son. She said he was being held in a hotel room on Bienville – and she was right. I trust you can do the same thing. Help me, please, Miss Baptiste. Help me find Imogen.”

  Jewel nodded her head. “Do you have anything that Imogen might’ve touched that night?”

  He thought a moment, then wagged a finger in the air. “My jacket. She felt chilled when they turned the air down and I slipped my denim jacket over her shoulders. When it quit blowing, she gave it back to me.”

  “That’ll do fine.” She glanced at Truman while his father rose to find the garment in question. “I know you’re worried about your mother. I’m sorry.”

  Truman nodded, then scratched under his nose. “Look, Miss Baptiste, I want to go on the record and say I think all of this is total bullshit. I asked you to come to appease my father. I want him to feel like we’ve done everything possible, left no stone unturned.”

  As Ike reentered the room, Jewel exhaled and nodded. “Understood.”

  “Here you go.”

  Jewel smiled at the old man and took his jacket. Holding it in her hands, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate. At first, she saw everyday things – Ike taking a walk, picking a bouquet of flowers for Imogen. Ike bringing Imogen a glass of iced tea to the porch, then sitting down beside her in his rocking chair.” Bowing her head, she tried to shut out all extraneous thoughts - ignoring the traffic outside, the dog barking down the street. Running her hand over the rough material, she came into contact with a brass button affixed to a pocket. As soon as her thumb touched that pocket – she was there in the senior citizen hall.

  She was Imogen Lawson.

  Voices surrounded her. People talking. Laughing. The man at the front called out numbers, but she couldn’t comprehend them. It hurt her head to think
about it.

  Where was Ike?

  He’d left her. Dottie had left her. Why was she still here?

  Rising, Imogen made her way into the crowd, looking for Ike. Did he leave her? Was he outside?

  Slowly, she made her way to the exit, keeping her head down to make sure she kept her slippers on her feet.

  A woman held the door for her, and she walked through, out into the parking lot. She looked up and down the rows of vehicles, but she couldn’t remember what their car looked like.

  Suddenly, she saw it. Imogen laughed, so glad to see their old station wagon. She loved to drive the kids around, listening to their happy voices made her smile. Just last week, she took Truman and his cub scout troop to play putt-putt golf.

  Heading for the station wagon, she realized she didn’t have her keys. Oh well, she’d wait. Seeing the back door standing open, Imogen crawled in. She’d take a nap until Ike showed up to drive her home.

  “She climbed into the back of a station wagon that was parked out front.” Jewel tried to remember what Imogen had seen, not necessarily what she’d comprehended. “I think they were changing a flat tire.”

  Ike gasped, leaning forward. “Did you see where they went? Where is Imogen?”

  “I don’t know,” Jewel began. “I…”

  “Of course, she doesn’t know, Dad. She’s just making this shit up.”

  Ike ignored his son. “Yes, you know. You can know.” He reached out to grasp Jewel’s hand. “You’ve got to help my Imogen.”

  Jewel thought a moment. “I can go to the senior center. If I can stand where the station wagon was parked, I might be able to pick up where it was headed.”

  “Oh, God Almighty,” Truman muttered in a suffering tone. “Dad, let this go. She’s not going to find Mom. You’ve got to give the guys at the station a chance. I’ll talk to Sheriff Hill.”

  “No!” Ike snapped, then looked contrite. “I mean, yes, Son. We’ll do it all. Just let this woman try. Please?”

  The deputy looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. “Come on, I’ll drive the both of you over to the senior center.”

  Jewel rose to go with the two men. She couldn’t help but feel out of place. Resentment and dislike came off Truman Lawson in waves. Still, she felt sorry for the older man and she wanted to help his wife. Climbing into the back of the squad car, she couldn’t help but giggle. “I knew I’d end up riding in one of these eventually.”

  Faster than his father, Truman was already behind the wheel. As Ike opened the door to take his seat, he looked back at Jewel. “If you’re anything like your mother, I’m sure this won’t be your last trip in a squad car.”

  Jewel didn’t say anything more, she just stared out the window as they drove away. She didn’t want Lawson to see how much his words hurt. They didn’t surprise her, but they still stung like hell. Nothing like the ache of distancing herself from Easy, but once the two were combined, Jewel’s soul and body felt sore.

  Along the way, she tried to let those things go and make her mind blank. Better to receive any impressions left behind in the wake of the station wagon. Instead of picturing the rapture on Easy’s face as he came, or the pain in his eyes when she told him it was over – Jewel focused on the view out her window. Everything she saw was familiar in many ways. After all, she’d lived here all of her life. Yet, she’d never set foot in most of the businesses. Like her mother, she kept to herself for much of the time.

  Soon the landscape changed as they neared the outskirts of town. Longer stretches of roadway with nothing on either side but empty lots. “There it is, Son.” Ike pointed ahead.

  “I know where it is, Dad. I make my rounds out this way every day.”

  Jewel winced a little at the tone Truman took with his father. She wondered if the acidic sarcasm was necessary. Of course, she knew little of their relationship, but Ike seemed like such a sweet man. On the heels of this thought, she winced again as the realization hit of her own lack of patience with Hazel. After their falling out over the scam, Jewel knew she’d been short-tempered and intolerant. Now she wondered if her mother had moved away to escape the gossip – or to escape her disrespectful daughter. Maybe if she talked it out with Easy…

  Hell, she couldn’t talk it out with Easy.

  When Truman put on his blinker, Jewel peered over the seat and out the windshield. “Park over to the side so I can walk where they changed the flat.”

  The deputy grumbled, but he did as she asked.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jewel told them as she climbed out and hurried over to the spot alongside the highway where she hoped to pick up some clue about Imogen’s disappearance.

  Walking along the graveled right-of-way, Jewel was very aware of the deputy’s disapproving gaze. Letting out a long breath, she attempted to tune out all of her senses and concentrate on the bottom of her feet and the ground beneath them. Many other cars had crossed this spot, so honing in on the particular vehicle she was searching for was not simple. Images of people and makes of cars shuffled through her brain.

  And then she saw it – a brown and white 1996 Roadmaster. A middle-aged man with a goatee was on his knees changing a tire. The two passenger doors were standing wide open. In the front seat, piles of small white pasteboard boxes were stacked up to the top of the dash. The backseat appeared empty – save for the small woman resting there.

  Jewel watched as the guy finished changing the tire, picking up the jack in his hand. He walked around to the driver’s side to take his keys from the ignition, then moved around the front of the vehicle to shut the passenger door and the back door without looking inside – narrowly missing Imogen’s foot. Jewel wondered if the door had nudged her, awakening her, would things have turned out differently? After that, the man went into the senior citizen’s hall to leave the jack he’d apparently borrowed.

  “Are you sensing anything?” Ike called from a few feet away.

  Jewel held up her hand as more images floated to the surface.

  Instead of Imogen, she focused on the man behind the wheel. When the vehicle began to move, she turned and ran to the squad car. “Come on, let’s go.” She wanted to say – ‘follow that car’, but refrained, knowing how it would sound. “I think I can follow the station wagon’s path.”

  Ike hurried alongside her and once they were seated, she pointed to her left. “Go south on this road.”

  Truman grumbled, but he followed her directions.

  “What do you see? Is she all right?” Ike asked with frantic concern in his voice.

  “She was asleep when she left. I’ll pick up more as we go along.” Focusing on her connection with the station wagon driver, she tried to see through his eyes. “Just keep going. We’ll hit highway 90 in a few miles, I’ll tell you more then.”

  As they traveled, Jewel picked up several things. The driver was a pharmaceutical salesman, traveling between doctor’s offices. He was married. Two kids. She couldn’t hone in on any malicious thoughts, just random details of his life. “I don’t think she was in any danger from the driver. He seems harmless.”

  “Well, that helps a lot. What’s his name? What’s the license plate number?”

  Jewel didn’t attempt to answer Truman’s questions. She wanted to keep her focus on the link she’d managed to forge with the driver. When they came to the intersection, she pointed right. “Take 90 toward Breaux Bridge.”

  “She’s not going to be able to tell him her name or where she’s from,” Ike worried.

  “If any of this bullshit is true, this man would have gone to the police. We would be getting some kind of report about an elderly woman being found. So far, that hasn’t happened.”

  Again, Jewel did not comment. Arguing with Truman wouldn’t change anything one way or the other.

  For the next hour and a half, Jewel concentrated on maintaining the ties that bound her mind to this particular event. To do so, she had to block out all other thoughts, all other worries. The few times the men tri
ed to speak to her, she just assured them they were heading in the right direction. “Just keep going. We’re still on their trail.”

  Nothing changed until they reached Interstate 10. “Turn right toward New Orleans.”

  “Are you sure?” Truman asked irritably.

  “Yes.”

  They didn’t go far before she felt the station wagon slow down again.

  “Take the next exit. Stop at that gas station.”

  When they pulled off the interstate, they were just short of the first of several long bridges that crossed the Atchafalaya swamp.

  “What now?” Truman asked.

  “Just park,” Jewel insisted.

  Once the squad car came to a halt, she felt the driver exit the vehicle to head to the restroom. A few seconds later, Imogen raised up in the back seat and opened her door.

  “She got out here.” Jewel sprang from the vehicle. “Imogen wandered away from here on foot.”

  “Are you sure?” Ike asked as he began to look all around.

  “Yes.” Jewel pointed down to where the access road disappeared into the waters that marked the edge of the largest swamp in the United States. “She walked into the Atchafalaya.”

  “Oh, God,” Ike groaned. “My poor Imogen.” He turned to his son. “Do something! Call somebody!”

  Truman looked worried, but hesitant. Jewel went to him to make her own appeal. “Yes, call people. Get airboats. And get me a detailed map of the swamp.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As soon as Easy’s work day was over, he hightailed it home to get ready for his date. Naturally, when he pulled into his driveway, his gaze swung toward Jewel’s. “Huh.” She wasn’t home. Her small car was nowhere to be seen. “Where could she be?” His concern was immediately overshadowed by his next thought – it wasn’t his business. He had no say in where she went or what she did. Sadly, Easy wondered how long it would take for that fact to sink in.