Showdown in Mudbug

by Jana DeLeon

  “It’s registered to his wife.” Zach glanced around and leaned his head toward her. “It has a bullet hole in the trunk,” he whispered.

  Raissa didn’t know what to think. “Dr. Spencer tried to run me off the road? How did he even know to find me in Mudbug? He doesn’t know any of my friends. He’d never know to look for me there.”

  “That is a damned good question, unless it was Spencer who put the tracking device on your car.”

  “But why? We questioned him after he tried to run me off the road. After I’d already figured out the trace was installed.”

  Zach shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it. It smacks of a professional hit, which smacks of your friends the Heberts. Maybe you’re wrong about Sonny being involved. Or maybe some of Sonny’s family is into business he doesn’t know about. All I know is that witnesses said the shot was fired from the driver’s side of a black Cadillac driving down the street. Now, how many people do you know who can land a bullet right between a guy’s eyes while driving?”

  “Not many. What are we going to do? Spencer was the best lead we had.”

  “Which is probably the main reason he’s dead. I’m going to call the captain about getting a search warrant for Spencer’s office and home, but it won’t happen immediately. Meantime, I’m calling in Morrow to cover this.”

  Raissa frowned.

  “I know, he’s a dickhead, but he’s also an idiot. With any luck, he won’t find any evidence that incriminates you in all this.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to continue with my original plan to check up on Susannah Franco. Someone close to the Francos bypassed that alarm system. I originally thought it was the mayor, but now I wonder. Anyway, get the hell out of here before someone else decides to question you.”

  “Okay, wait,” Raissa said, confused. “Won’t your captain have a stroke if you let me get away?”

  “He sorta sanctioned contact with you in order to get leads on the kidnapping case.”

  “Sorta?”

  “Yeah, as in, I’m allowed to contact you as long as I don’t get caught. Then, my guess is, he wouldn’t know anything about it.”

  “Then I guess I’ll sorta get the hell out of here before I make things even messier.”

  “Get back to Mudbug and close yourself in somewhere safe. I’ll call you as soon as I have some information on Susannah Franco.”

  Raissa hurried back down the block, her head low so maybe no one would remember what she looked like and associate her with Zach, at least not right away. None of this made sense. Why had Spencer tried to kill her? Was he tied to the Heberts? And who had taken Hank Henry and for what reason? Even more important, where was he now?

  The first thing she needed to do was check the feed from Sonny’s. If Sonny’s men had anything to do with Spencer’s murder, she’d be able to hear all about it, provided they were in Sonny’s office. She got into her car and headed back to Mudbug as fast as Mildred’s ancient sedan would allow.

  Zach’s phone rang the instant he climbed into his car. He knew it was the captain without even looking at the display. He could swear that even the ring had a desperate, angry sound to it. He pressed the button to answer and the captain’s voice boomed out, making him wince.

  “Damn it, Blanchard! What the hell is going on? You tell me this morning that you don’t have any leads to speak of, then the doctor you questioned about Melissa Franco turns up dead in the psychic woman’s shop. I guess you’ve got plenty of leads now. What I want from you are some answers.”

  “I wish I had them, Captain. All I can tell you is that it looks like Spencer’s been stalking Ms. Bordeaux, but neither of us know why.”

  “How do you know that the Bordeaux woman didn’t kill him herself? Maybe they were having an affair. Maybe she thought he’d kidnapped the kid, and she’s lost it from so many years of hiding out.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the case, sir.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because when Spencer was shot, I was sitting in a café with Ms. Bordeaux having lunch. And witnesses saw a black Cadillac, not an old tan sedan. It wasn’t her, but it has all the signs of a hired hit.”

  “Which puts us right back to the fucking Heberts.”

  “It looks that way.”

  “So would you like to tell me why you called Morrow to take over for you on the hottest piece of evidence that we’ve got so far?”

  “I’m tracking down some background information on Susannah Franco.”

  “Please don’t tell me the mother has anything to do with the disappearance of her own child.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you that, but I have to wonder.”

  “Wonder about what?”

  “Why the Social Security number Susannah Franco’s been using belongs to a woman that died over thirty years ago.”

  There was dead silence on the other end of the phone, and for a moment, Zach wondered if the captain had finally had that heart attack he kept threatening the department with. “Sir, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder for how much longer. Jesus H. Christ, Blanchard. You call me as soon as you have any information on the Franco woman. I’ll make sure the detail watching her doesn’t let her out of their sight. Is there anything else that can pile onto this case?”

  “As a matter of fact, remember that kidnapping you sent me on this morning?”

  “Yeah, the adult male. So? Probably out on a bender.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do I even want to know?”

  “The guy was a friend of a friend of Ms. Bordeaux’s and an ex-associate of the Heberts. He warned Ms. Bordeaux earlier this week that one of the Heberts asked him to kill her.”

  “Blanchard. I’ve changed my mind.”

  “About what, sir?”

  “Don’t call me again. When I can handle it, I’ll call you.”

  Forty minutes later, Zach was perched on a hard chair covered in hideous fabric and sipping tea from china cups with Magdalena LeBlanc, Susannah Forrester’s old friend and neighbor. Zach took a sip of the tea and tried not to grimace. Why in the world did people actually like that crap? “So, Ms. LeBlanc, did Susannah have any children?”

  “Oh, heavens, no. Susannah was an old maid, like me. That’s why we were such fabulous friends. Neither of us had others to answer to once our parents passed away. Why, we were fancy-free and living the life.”

  Zach smiled. “Sounds like a good life.”

  “Oh, it was the best, up until Susannah got sick. Breast cancer. Wasn’t testing then like there is today. Why, she just wasted away. It’s such a shame.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that. I’m sure you miss her.”

  “Every single day. So tell me, what’s a New Orleans detective doing all the way out in the boonies asking about Susannah?”

  “Her name came up in a case I’m working on as a possible relative to a suspect. I thought maybe if she had kids…But looks like I’m out of luck.”

  “She never had her own kids, but she had a niece she was very fond of. Used to send her money from time to time.”

  “Do you remember the niece’s name?”

  “Annabelle was her name. Annabelle Forrester. Her father was Susannah’s brother, who died in the war.”

  “Did Annabelle have any children?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. After Susannah passed away, I never saw her again. She’d just recently married before Susannah’s death, but I don’t recall anyone telling me the young man’s name. I’m really sorry I can’t be more help.”

  Zach rose from his chair and took her hands in his. “You’ve been a great help, Ms. LeBlanc. Thank you for your time and the tea.”

  Zach left the house and hopped into his car. If Annabelle Forrester had married and had a child, she might have named that child after her favorite aunt. He’d passed the court house on the way into town. He’d try to
find a marriage license and birth record there.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Raissa burst into her hotel room and ran straight to the laptop linked to Sonny’s house. She sat down at the table and clicked to start the audio file. Sonny’s voice was the first thing she heard.

  “How the hell could you let this happen, Rico?” Sonny yelled. “You were supposed to stay on Hank Henry until I said otherwise.”

  “I was on Hank. He went back inside the work site. I had the GPS on his truck, so I drove around the block and picked up something to eat. I wasn’t even gone ten minutes.”

  “Apparently, ten minutes is all it took for him to disappear. You are going to make this right, Rico.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “You’re going to put out word to every family member, bookie, prostitute, and bum in New Orleans that we’re looking for Hank. Someone had to see something. If anyone gives you information that leads us to Henry, I’ll pay ten g’s.”

  “Ten grand for Hank Henry? You gotta be kidding me.”

  “Just do it, Rico.”

  The sound of the door shutting echoed over the computer; then Raissa heard Sonny slam his hands down on his desk, as she’d seen him do so many times. And that was all of the recording.

  She checked the time—four hours before. Sonny’s guys had a four-hour jump on trying to locate Hank. Not that it mattered. Raissa didn’t have the network that Sonny had. But why did Sonny want him so badly? There had to be a reason, but damned if Raissa could come up with anything that made sense.

  She needed her files, and they were in the trunk of Mildred’s car. Surely there was something in those files that would connect the dots. They were so close. Raissa could feel it. She checked the monitors, but all she saw in the alley was the city garbage truck, making its weekly pickup. She grabbed Mildred’s car keys and headed out the back of the hotel, pulling the door shut behind her. The sun was already setting behind the row of cypress trees on the west side of town, reducing the sunlight to a dim glow on the alley between the hotel and the garage.

  She hurried across the alley in front of the garbage truck and slipped the garage key into the lock. The garbage truck passed and she heard the footsteps behind her, but before she could reach for her weapon, a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Looking directly at Sonny Hebert, Raissa realized she’d made the miscalculation that might cost her her life.

  “Don’t yell,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t afford for anyone else to notice me. I’m sure the garbageman already thinks I’m crazy for following that stinking truck down the alley, but I knew if you were staying here you’d have cameras.”

  Raissa nodded, her heart pounding as if it would beat out of her chest. She wondered if this was how it was all going to end—in an alley behind the Mudbug Hotel.

  “I hear a friend of yours is missing,” Sonny said. “He’s in a warehouse on Canal Street. A brown building with blue stripes. You’ve got about two hours before he’s removed.”

  “Removed?”

  Sonny glanced nervously over his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’m afraid this time might be permanent.”

  “This time?”

  “Shhhh. I can’t tell you everything, because I don’t know all of it. What I do know is if you want to see him again, you better get over there now.” He whirled around, hurried down the alley. A couple of seconds later a nondescript late-model sedan passed the end of the alley, with Sonny at the wheel. He barely slowed and cast one glance at her, then drove away.

  Raissa dug into her pocket for her cell phone. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she pressed in Zach’s name. “I’m going to a warehouse building on Canal Street. One with blue stripes. I just got a tip that Hank Henry is being held there, but we have to move fast to get him.” Raissa jumped into her car and fired up the engine.

  “What the hell?” Zach said. “Where did you get this tip?”

  “Sonny Hebert,” Raissa said as she hopped into her car and pulled away from the curb, her tires screeching. “And since I’m still alive I can only assume he’s not interested in killing me. At least not right now.”

  “How do you know the whole thing isn’t a setup to get you somewhere that he can kill you?”

  “I don’t, which is why I need you to meet me there. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

  “No fucking way! I’m more than forty-five minutes away. Don’t go there, Raissa.”

  “Too late, I’m already on my way. Your choice, Detective.” She disconnected the call and pressed the accelerator. Her cell phone buzzed at her from the passenger’s seat, but she let it ring, choosing to concentrate on driving well beyond the speed limit without killing herself. Zach would be there. He wouldn’t let her walk into something she might not walk out of.

  She hoped.

  Zach cursed when Raissa disconnected, and it was all he could do not to fling the phone against a wall. Not that he could afford to do that at the moment. Likely he was going to need it soon to call for backup, an ambulance, or the coroner. He was about an hour outside of Baton Rouge, which put him at almost the same distance from the warehouse as Raissa, but already behind her in travel time.

  The county clerk who’d been helping him locate documents slid a couple of sheets of paper across the counter toward him. “These are the rec ords you were looking for, Detective Blanchard. Do you want to pay the fifty cents or would you like me to bill the New Orleans police department?”

  Zach punched in Raissa’s number and waited until it went to voice mail. “Damn it!”

  The clerk stared at him in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but I have an emergency.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter for the copies, grabbed the papers, and ran out the door, yanking his keys from his pocket as he crossed the street. He tore out of the parking lot and was doing eighty miles per hour by the time he hit the interstate.

  He dialed the station. “Captain, I need backup to a warehouse with blue stripes on Canal Street. I got a tip that Hank Henry is being held there.”

  “Where on Canal Street?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Damn it. That street’s miles long.”

  “Tell them to start on the north side. I’ll start on the south.” He dropped the cell phone into the passenger’s seat, and only then did he remember the copies. He grabbed them from the passenger’s seat and looked at them. The first was a marriage license for Annabelle Forrester and Franklin Marsella. The second was a birth certificate for Susannah Forrester Marsella. Too much of a coincidence not to somehow be related to the missing Monk.

  Zach felt his blood run cold. The mayor’s daughter-in-law was the Hebert connection, not the mayor. He reached for his cell phone, ready to call the captain back with this bit of information, but stopped. The captain had already made it clear he didn’t want more clues with no connecting dots, and right now, keeping Raissa safe was his priority. He’d tell the captain about his suspicions concerning the mayor’s daughter-in-law once he’d made sure Raissa was okay and they’d found Hank Henry. He pressed the accelerator down even farther and prayed that he got to the warehouse in time.

  Thirty-five minutes later, he turned the corner on the south end of Canal Street, frantically scanning the street for any sign of Raissa. He felt a wave of relief when he saw Mildred’s car parked in front of a warehouse building just like the one she’d described, but Raissa was nowhere in sight. He jumped out of his car, pulled out his weapon, and hurried toward the warehouse entrance, scanning the street as he went. There were no other cars in sight and the entire area seemed completely abandoned.

  The perfect place to commit a crime.

  He slipped through the open door and looked down at the dusty floor. Prints led in different directions, but the majority broke off to the right. He crept down a long hallway, following the footprints, checking each room as he passed an open doorway. At the end of the warehouse, he looked into the last room
and felt relief wash over him when he saw a very alive Raissa. Then a closer look revealed her hovering over a not-so-alive-looking Hank Henry, and his pulse began to race again.

  Raissa looked up as he entered the room. “I’ve already called an ambulance. They should be here any minute.”

  Zach looked down at the pale man laid out on what appeared to be a hospital gurney. “He’s alive?”

  “Yeah, but I think he’s drugged or something, and he looks really weak. Give me your handcuff key.”

  Zach looked confused for a moment until Raissa lifted Hank’s right hand. He was handcuffed to the bed. Zach passed his key ring to Raissa and began to walk the room. “Did you see anyone when you got here?”

  “No one. The street was as empty as the warehouse. But he didn’t get here, chained to a hospital bed, by himself.”

  “No. Definitely not.” Zach ran one hand across a window seal, then looked down at the floor and frowned. “This room has been cleaned. Spotless, as a matter of fact.”

  Raissa nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that. They’re careful.”

  Zach shook his head. “You don’t have to disinfect a room to remove prints, and I doubt even the best forensics team would find much, given the dust in the rest of the building.”

  “I don’t think it was to erase evidence.”

  Zach looked over at her. “Why else then?”

  Raissa looked down at Hank and bit her lip. “I think he’s in a hospital bed for a reason. I think maybe they were going to do something to him. Medically.”

  Zach stared. “You think someone sterilized this room to perform a medical procedure? Jesus, does he have any incisions?” Theft of body organs was fairly rare, but it still happened.

  “No incisions. It’s the first thing I checked. It looks like everything is intact.” Raissa looked up at Zach, a grim look on her face. “Maybe they hadn’t gotten to the surgery part yet. Maybe that’s what Sonny meant when he told me Hank would be removed.”

  Zach felt his face flush with anger. “Sonny Hebert has some explaining to do. I ought to go arrest him, now.”