Silent Crickets: A Shallow End Gals, Trilogy Book Three

by Troutman, Kimberly

  John reached over and gave Jerome a big bear hug. “Here’s the package of material I promised you. Have you been looking after your Mom?”

  With a big grin, Jerome took the envelope, and nodded his head. “I pretty much know where she is all the time. She’s still cryin’ some, I can tell, but she’s happy to be home again. She made a real pretty shirt for Ms. Spicey. I’m going to take it over after dinner.”

  John was happy to hear Adele and Spicey were developing a friendship. Adele opened the side door. “John? I just made a big pan of Jambalaya if you’re hungry?” Adele’s big smile made her look even more beautiful than John had remembered.

  “I’m starved.”

  Thor, Nelson, and Jeanne decided to walk to the little diner where they had eaten the night before. Dusty had been right. It did look like a dive, but the food was great. Jeanne walked ahead of the guys and placed a call to Pablo in the hospital. She was laughing at his assessment of his condition. He claimed every time a good looking nurse came in his room he had a setback. Pablo told Jeanne his recovery might take a while. Jeanne caught a troubling reflection from a glass store front across the street and told Pablo she would talk to him later.

  Jeanne dialed Thor, “We picked up a fan club. Two behind you, and two across the street.”

  Thor said thanks and told Nelson. They continued walking toward the diner that was now within sight. Jeanne was now walking with Thor and Nelson. She asked Thor, “We still eating?”

  Thor scowled, “Hell yes.”

  They opened the door of the diner and took a table near the front window. Their fan club had gathered across the street and were standing behind the alley dumpster. Jeanne saw one of the men walk down the alley and disappear. Three men stood smoking, talking, and glancing toward the diner. She looked at Nelson, “You know what sucks? Nobody has a good ol’ shit kicker anymore. They always want to bring guns. It really takes all of the fun out of it.”

  Nelson looked at Thor, who just shrugged as he grabbed one of the crab legs from his plate. Nelson said, “Mass has been getting calls all day from the local PD that the muggings are through the roof. Seems what dope is still on the streets is pretty pricey.” He leaned forward to look at the group by the dumpster, “These guys look the part.”

  Thor looked at Jeanne, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll still be there when we finish.”

  Jeanne smiled, “I really hope so.” Nelson and Thor realized she was serious.

  Their empty plates were removed. Nelson announced he was picking up the tab. “Give me a minute to check out before you start any Rambo crap without me.”

  Thor held the door open for Jeanne as he stuck a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. He looked her in the eyes and said, “I think they stayed to play.”

  Jeanne smiled.

  Thor chuckled and shook his head. He leaned against the brick wall of the adjacent building, crossed his arms, and said, “Have at it.”

  Jeanne walked ahead and looked into the diner window watching the reflection of the three men walking toward her. She guessed their ages as early twenties, full of hormones and probably short of dope money. She turned to them at the last moment. “Something on your minds?”

  The largest of the three men stopped and said, “We’re thinkin’ you might be willin’ to pay us some money to protect you in the streets. Pretty lady like you should be careful in Nawlens.”

  “How much money?”

  One of the men glanced at Thor who was still leaning against the building about fifty feet away. Jeanne asked again, “How much?”

  Big guy answered, “A hundred bucks gets you out of the neighborhood safe.”

  Jeanne nodded her head, reached into her jeans and counted off two hundred dollars and laid it on the window sill behind her. “Let’s make it two. I have to tell you, it’s cheaper to go to the gym. I also have to tell you I am FBI and trained. If you get physical with me, I might hurt you. I have a witness that you were warned.” Jeanne pointed toward Thor. “If you still want to threaten me for money, there are two rules.”

  Big guy looked startled at her claim of being FBI. That made this all the better. It was the damn FBI who killed his cousin this morning in the raid. “You guys killed my cousin this morning!” He glanced at Thor again, and then back to Jeanne. “What rules you talking about?” He kept looking at the money on the window sill.

  Jeanne said, “First, that man over there gets to frisk you. If I win, you don’t get the money. If you win, you get the money and don’t get arrested for robbery. Last chance to change your mind.”

  The three men walked over to Thor who patted them down. Thor removed two guns and three knives. The men walked back to Jeanne. The big guy smiled, “Ain’t your friend there gonna help? Don’t seem fair.”

  Jeanne looked at Thor, “Should I give them a minute to call some friends and make it fair?”

  Big guy got a menacing look on his face, “You got some mouth on you bitch.” He lunged at her.

  Nelson came out of the diner, looked at Thor leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed at his chest, legs crossed at his ankles. Nelson saw the pile of weapons on the sidewalk, and then saw Jeanne squared across from three big guys. Nelson raised an eyebrow, and Thor removed his toothpick from his mouth. “She wants this.”

  The people sitting in the diner had one good show. The entire fight lasted less than five minutes, and all three men were on the sidewalk in various contorted positions. Jeanne had martial arts training and was extremely fast. These guys had just been hit by a train. Jeanne reached over to the window sill and pocketed her money. “You lost. We can call the local PD now to come get you, or maybe you can get a name for us?”

  The big guy was trying to stand, but still had one knee on the sidewalk. “Damn, lady! What name you want?”

  Jeanne asked, “What name comes to mind if I was looking to hire somebody to snatch up a kid?”

  The big guy finally made it to a standing position. The two other guys looked at each other and remained silent. Jeanne tilted her head, “You two get out of here.” Now Thor and Nelson walked over.

  Thor had his phone out and looked at Jeanne, “Am I calling PD?”

  Jeanne reached back in her jeans and took out the two hundred dollars. “I don’t think so.”

  The big guy reached for the money. Jeanne pulled it back and said, “Name.”

  “Up ‘til this mornin’ would have been Manuel Cotton. You done killed him. New dude’s name Abram.”

  “Abram what?”

  Big guy was holding his shoulder and grimacing, “I don’t know a last name.”

  Jeanne handed him the money and Thor pointed to the pile of weapons, “We’re keeping those.” Big guy hobbled across the street and disappeared into the alley.

  Jeanne turned to face Thor and Nelson and gave them each a big bear hug. “I can’t tell you how great that felt! I’m going home now to take a shower and a nap.”

  Nelson and Thor watched her turn and walk toward her house. They decided to follow at a distance to make sure she got there okay. Thor called Roger with the names.

  Nelson laughed, “I don’t think she even broke a sweat. Damn.”

  Jeanne turned after a short while and yelled back, “I’ve got two big recliners, beer in the fridge, and a wide screen TV.”

  Nelson yelled back, “Right behind ya.”

  Thor made a mental note, again, not to piss her off.

  Roger and Paul had decided if they wanted any dinner they had better get it now. Simon had suggested a couple of famous Cajun restaurants within walking distance. As they walked, it was impossible not to feel the magnetism of the French Quarter. It was beautiful, strange, vile, and tempting in each breath. The sounds of music seeped from each doorway and melted into the streets that were packed with people. After six in the evening, traffic was restricted, and streets like Bourbon were for people only.

  Paul slowed down to look into the bar they were passing. People appeared to be in costume an
d having some sort of contest. He looked at Roger, “I wonder how many of these tourists realize how dangerous it is here right now?” Just then a six foot bearded man with huge breasts, dressed in a pink ball gown, carried out a guy by his collar and belt and threw him in the middle of the street. He straightened his dress straps, smoothed the fabric around his hips and went back into the bar.

  Roger moved out of the way. “Some of them have a clue.”

  Paul chuckled, “You remember the gal that bartends at our hotel? Jill?” Paul had a twinkle in his eye that Roger recognized.

  “Yes.”

  “Seems likely we might go tour the Quarter later tonight if this case cooperates.” Paul raised his eyebrows a couple of times. “You’re welcome to come with. I can see if she has a friend.”

  “Thanks anyway. My goal is to make it back to the hotel and spend some time on the phone with Kim.” Roger offered a small smile.

  Paul gave him a punch in the arm. “I knew it! It’s only been over a friggin’ year you two have been dating! Congrats there buddy. You got yourself a keeper.”

  Roger laughed, “Sometimes it takes me a while.”

  Paul started laughing. “Boy will you have the mother-in-law stories!”

  Rolland called each of the remaining New Orleans club members and told them to meet him at the country house at eight tonight. He was debating with himself about telling them Bernard was really William Patterson. Rolland was sure the ‘spook’ type guy Patterson told him about was the one who shot him. The cops wouldn’t have shot him like that or left him there.

  Different scenarios kept running through his head. If he called the cops and reported it, then they would turn the country house into a crime scene. They would see the barn! He had to explain to the club who Patterson was, or they wouldn’t understand who probably shot him. All he needed was for Andre to go all ‘girly’ on them and freak out thinking they were all in danger.

  Rolland watched the video of the art contest again and kept replaying the segment with his chosen winner. He turned off his computer and stood up. He would tell the club the whole story, and as a group, they would get rid of the body. Rolland dug around in his desk drawer looking for the keys to the gardener’s pick-up truck. He went upstairs to change into some old clothes and then loaded the truck up with tarps and shovels. This promised to be a very long night.

  Tourey knocked loudly on Spicey’s side door and heard a crash and some cussing from inside. Spicey opened the door looking very unkempt for her. She motioned him inside, and Tourey saw Sasha picking up the remnants of a broken lamp.

  “You two fightin’?” Tourey glanced around the room.

  Spicey answered, “We be nappin’ when you pounded on that door. Scared the bejesus out of us.”

  Tourey walked around the large chunks of pottery shards and sat at the end of the couch. He looked at Spicey, “You either found a way to fry chicken in your sleep or been out ridin’ with Willie in his chicken car.” Tourey flared his nostrils for effect.

  Sasha’s eyes got real big, “There be anythin’ you don’t know?”

  Tourey looked at them both. “Start at the beginning.”

  Toby and Junior bought three more dead turkeys from Otis in town. Toby dropped off Junior at his house. “I’ll be by around eight. Should be gettin’ pretty dark by then. You best bring a flashlight and some kind of bug spray.”

  Junior had been growing more nervous by the minute at the prospect of their adventure and now flipped out. “You seriously believe bug spray gonna stop the RUGARU from eatin’ us?”

  Toby stopped the truck, “You fool! Bug spray for the dang bugs. We don’t need no weapons if we stay in the trees.”

  Junior frowned and stared at Toby, “Might not need ‘em, but sure feel better havin’ somethin’ just in case. Don’t your daddy keep a pistol at the crab shack?”

  Toby shrugged. “Don’t know there be any bullets. Don’t know for sure there be any pistol. I ‘spose I could check out his truck and take his good gun, just for tonight.”

  Junior felt a little better hearing that. At least they could die with some dignity. Junior looked back at Toby as he headed to the door of his house, “I’m not wantin’ my obituary sayin’ ‘Fool fought the RUGARU with bug spray!’”

  Jackson had made a quick trip to the corner store and bought some groceries for his mom and him. While the sausage was browning on the stove, he started doing a good clean up job in the kitchen. His mom had always been a good housekeeper but he could tell she couldn’t see very well anymore. When he finished, the kitchen had a strange smell of Lysol and sausage. One thing prison had taught him was how to clean up.

  Jackson told his mom he had to take care of some business, and he would be back. His mom grabbed his arm gently with her wrinkled, boney fingers. “I know you never did no wrong, boy. I prayed the Lord see that and send you home.”

  Jackson backed the van out of her driveway and was hit with a heavy feeling of dread. He knew Abram was waitin’ on him. His momma could sure use that money. Hell, he could use it. As the van slowly crawled down the street, Jackson turned to where Abram had said that Voodoo lady had her shop. He had a feelin’ he might better check his future ‘fore he messed up too bad. Abram thought this lady was the real thing.

  Jackson parked a ways down the street and saw the Voodoo shop sign. He went in. A young boy was sitting at the counter reading brochures. Jackson walked up to him, “Where’s the Voodoo lady?”

  Jerome looked up, “She’s with somebody now. Should be done soon though. She knows I’m waitin’ on her.”

  Jackson looked surprised, “Ain’t you a little young to be worried ‘bout your future?”

  Jerome laughed. “I brought her a new shirt my mom made. Ms. Spicey is a friend of mine.” Then Jerome looked serious, “I ain’t worried about my future. I’m going to be an FBI man.” Jerome passed one of the brochures over to Jackson. “I have a friend that brought me these. He’s a very important man. He is going to help me keep my life straight.”

  Jackson was startled at the resolve this young kid had. Where had his resolve gone? Jackson asked, “How old are you?”

  Jerome answered, “I’ll be eleven in December.” Jerome looked at Jackson, “You worried about your future?”

  Jackson shuffled his feet some and looked back at Jerome, “Got a decision I gotta make.”

  Jerome held up a brochure, “Friend who gave me these told me the right decisions usually the hard ones to do. If that helps.” Jerome shrugged and went back to reading.

  Jackson remembered when he was eleven. His momma worked two jobs to pay the bills. Never knew his Daddy. Sounds like this boy had people in his life who cared. He couldn’t believe an eleven year old boy had his life together better than he did. “What’s your friend’s name? He here in New Orleans?”

  Jerome smiled, “He just left my house, had dinner with my mom and me. His name’s John Barry. I got his card if you want some materials too?” Jerome pulled out the already worn card of John Barry. There was no title or official agency mentioned. Just the name and a phone number. Jackson noticed that all of the materials Jerome had in his stack were FBI.

  Jackson took a pen from his pocket and said, “You got a piece of paper? I might write his number down. Case I decide I need some pamphlets.”

  Spicey came to the front of the shop and frowned at Jackson. She placed her body between Jerome and Jackson, “What can I do for you?”

  Jackson thought she could work on her customer service some, but said, “I want my future told if it don’t take too long.” Spicey looked at Jerome who smiled and said he would wait. He had a lot of readin’ to do from Mr. Barry.

  Spicey led Jackson past the heavy red curtain to a small table in a dark corner. A big crystal ball sat on the table alongside a deck of Tarot cards.

  Spicey clicked on a small light under the table and looked at Jackson, “It’ll be forty dollars up front. Case you don’t like your future, I still get paid.” She finally
smiled and Jackson realized how beautiful she was. Damn.

  Spicey noticed Jackson paid her from a crisp roll of twenties and appeared to be wearing new clothes. Except the shoes. Them looked like prison shoes. Prison hair cut too. No tats she could see. Spicey asked Jackson, “Is there someone in your life you want to know about first?”

  Jackson thought a minute, “Yeah. My momma. She’s lookin’ a might frail.”

  Spicey was touched he was worried about his momma. Seemed to her he was actin’ like this was news, his momma bein’ frail. Prison shoes, new money, new concerns about his momma, and he was definitely worried about his future.

  Spicey looked in her crystal ball and held Jackson’s hand. “You’ve been away from your momma a long time and she needed you. Seems you come into a money opportunity got you worried. Maybe you worried about repeatin’ mistakes, and havin’ to go away again?”

  Jackson pulled his hand back. “How you know all that?”

  Spicey smoothed the hair on the side of her head and said, “I know because I talk to the Spirits.”

  Jackson shook his head, “Abram said you be good.”

  Spicey sat up straight and shuffled her tarot cards. She flipped a few over and pretended to get a message from one. “You talkin’ about Abram Davis?”

  Jackson slapped his hand on the table. “Damn, woman!”

  Spicey started turning cards over and frowning. Her first thought was that Jackson might have been the guy with Abram at the country house. Jackson leaned in closer, “What else you see?”

  Spicey started shaking her head, “I see children. I think I see a barn.” Spicey raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Jackson.

  Jackson was pale. He felt the room spin. He whispered and pointed to the cards, “What’s happening to the children?”