Baton Rouge Bingo

by Greg Herren

  “No, I don’t.” He looked worried. “Maybe having him come here wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t think this through, I guess.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen. You didn’t create the situation, your asshole brother-in-law did. He’s a good kid and we can’t turn our backs on him. We just have to figure out how to make this all work.”

  “I just don’t like the idea…” He paused. “That maybe we’ve put him into danger.”

  I shrugged. “Well, if the kidnappers are keeping tabs on us, it’s too late to worry about that now—they’ve already seen him. We just have to make sure he’s careful, until we have Dad back and the case is solved.”

  He grinned at me. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

  I grinned back. “Yeah, I know. In the meantime, we just kind of need to figure out what to do with that stuff, or move Colin’s clothes out of the master bedroom—”

  The loud beeping of the scanner interrupted me.

  I turned around to see Taylor standing next to the desk, an excited look on his face.

  Frank crossed over quickly and started looking.

  The bug was attached to the base station for the landline phone.

  Frank pulled it off, a grim look on his face.

  He gestured for Taylor to keep going.

  Chapter Eight

  The Hermit

  The courage to do what is necessary and right

  After another half hour or so of thorough scanning, that was the only bug we found in the entire apartment.

  “What are we going to do with it?” Taylor asked. His eyes were glittering with excitement. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, like a ball of nervous energy. With a grim look on his face, Frank dropped the bug down the garbage disposal, turned on the faucet, and flipped the switch. The grinding sound was loud, and after about twenty seconds, Frank flipped it off. “I hope,” Frank said angrily, “someone was listening to that. And it burst their fucking eardrum.” The muscle in his jaw was twitching the way it always did when he was angry.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I said as thunder shook the building again. “Why bug us? And why kidnap Dad in the first place? I just can’t figure this out.”

  “We don’t have much to go on,” Frank replied, his voice tense and even. He leaned back against the counter. “All we know for sure is whoever took Dad for some reason thinks we either know where this deduct box thing is or can figure it out. Which means they’ve probably been looking for it without any luck.”

  I nodded. “Somehow Veronica Porterie must be connected to it.”

  Frank made a strange face. “How do you figure?”

  “It’s simple.” Taylor interrupted me before I could say anything. “Unless you believe in coincidences, there has to be some connection. Ms. Porterie was an old friend of Scotty’s mom, right? Didn’t you say she came by your mom’s this weekend? Maybe she was being followed, so whoever the bad guys are, they think maybe she told your mom something. And then she was murdered—the Porterie lady, I mean—and someone kidnapped Scotty’s dad, probably around the same time she was murdered, right? It’s not much of a stretch.” We both stared at him. He turned red and shrugged. “I watch Law and Order and I love to read mysteries.”

  “Real life isn’t like a TV show, Taylor,” Frank replied. He exhaled. “Okay, say you’re right. Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to bug Mom’s apartment rather than ours?”

  “Well, whoever it is, they’ve done their homework,” I said grimly, giving Taylor an approving look. “And how did whoever it was get in to plant the damned thing?” One of the great things about our apartment was no one could get in without a key or being buzzed through the door downstairs. Millie and Velma were extremely security conscious—one of the benefits of having an older lesbian couple as landladies—and their rules were very strict about who was allowed in.

  “You know damned well anyone who wants to break in here can get in if they want to.” Frank scowled. “They just have to come in over the roofs and drop down to the balcony. We never lock the French doors.”

  “That doesn’t explain why, though,” I replied, conceding the point. I mean, it was true, but it was also highly unlikely. To begin with, how would they get onto the roofs to cross them without being seen? They’d have to break in somewhere, unless they were the Ninja Lesbians. That was how I’d first met them—they came over the roofs and swung down onto our balcony before kicking the doors in. But they were highly trained operatives—they’d scaled a brick fence and then the back side of a building. Maybe that wasn’t as difficult as it sounded, but I’d prefer to think it was pretty damned hard. I opened my mouth to point that out—but I could tell by the look on Frank’s face that now was not the time to argue the point. “I mean, that’s good thinking, Taylor, but it still doesn’t make sense. It was just a coincidence that we found Veronica’s body. If we hadn’t gone out there…”

  Frank didn’t say anything, just looked from me to Taylor and back. “Well, maybe we should have another chat with Mom.” He hesitated before continuing. “We need to go over there to sweep her place anyway, and I’d like to talk to Emily or whoever was on duty in the store when your dad was kidnapped.”

  “Well, we don’t really know when they took him. And for another thing,” I looked over at Taylor, “how did they get Dad out of there without attracting attention? There’s always a lot of foot traffic on the streets around the Devil’s Weed. I don’t see how they could have done it.” My head was starting to hurt.

  “It’s the Quarter,” Frank replied darkly. “Nobody notices anything here.”

  He had a point, much as I hated to admit it. “But AFAR was behind stealing the tiger, right? Maybe her murder had something to do with that.”

  “It’s probably all part of the same thing,” Taylor said, his eyes widening even farther. “Don’t you think? I mean, AFAR’s never really done anything in Louisiana, have they? They aren’t exactly popular in the South.”

  Another good point. Why all of a sudden was AFAR interested in Mike the Tiger? LSU had had a tiger living on campus since the 1930s, and the current habitat was state of the art, probably one of the best tiger habitats in the world. AFAR usually confined its activities to states where they had a donor base, like California and New York. In the Southern and more rural states, AFAR had never gotten any traction. Louisiana’s nickname was “sportsmen’s paradise” because the hunting and fishing was so good here.

  “So, all of a sudden, AFAR decides to come to Louisiana and free Mike,” Taylor went on. “And the president of AFAR’s daughter just happens to be one of his caretakers. And said president is murdered, probably on the very day the tiger is stolen. And your dad is kidnapped right around the same time.” He had stars in his eyes as he looked back and forth between Frank and me. “It’s got to be all connected. It does!”

  “I think he’s right, Frank.” I waved my hand tiredly. “I think we should question Mom a little more thoroughly about what she and Veronica talked about the other day. And then we need to go talk to that Huey Long expert.”

  “Huey Long expert?” Frank’s eyebrows went up.

  Today had been so crazy, I wasn’t surpsied Frank didn’t remember our phone conversation. “I did a web search for deduct box on Mom’s computer.” I filled them in quickly on what I’d found at the Huey Long website. “You remember that drunk Tulane professor who wouldn’t leave Colin alone at Papa Diderot’s Thoth party? Turns out he’s an expert on Louisiana history, with a specialty in Huey Long.”

  “Too bad Colin’s not here—he’d be able to get any information he wanted out of that guy.” Frank made a face. He sighed. “Okay, first we’ll go over and sweep Mom’s place,” Frank went on. “Taylor, you just stay here until we get back, okay? And whatever you do, don’t let anyone in.”

  “I want to go with you,” Taylor said, folding his arms stubbornly. He looked so much like Frank right then it was almost sc
ary.

  “No, you need to stay here,” Frank replied sternly. “Like I said, stay here and lock the doors and don’t answer if someone rings the buzzer and most definitely don’t let anyone in.”

  “I want to help,” Taylor insisted, setting his jaw. A muscle started jumping in his lower cheek, the way Frank’s always did when he was angry. It was positively spooky. “I know I can help. I’m not a baby. I’ve already helped, haven’t I?” He turned to me with puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

  “He’s you all over again,” I said to Frank. “We’d better let him come with, anyway. I’d rather he stay at Mom’s so he’s not alone when we go uptown to talk to that professor.” I looked at Taylor. “You can come help us sweep Mom’s apartment—Rain’s there staying with her, and when we go uptown you can stay there—I’d feel better and would worry less if you weren’t alone.” Frank started to protest but I held up my hand to cut him off. “Besides, if they got in here to plant a bug, they can get in here again, even if we lock the French doors. And by now they have to know we’ve found the bug and disabled it. It isn’t safe for us to leave him here alone.” For a brief second, I worried about warning Millie and Velma—but they were perfectly capable of defending themselves, as they’d proved over and over.

  I walked into the living room and slipped the bolts on the shutters, then bolted the French doors, too. The rain was still coming down pretty hard, and there was a roar of thunder that shook the house and made the lights flicker briefly.

  “All right,” Frank said, slipping the scanner into a backpack, which he hoisted over his right shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  We grabbed umbrellas and headed out the back door. I locked both the lock on the doorknob and the dead bolt. The rain was coming down in ridiculous amounts, so heavily that I could hardly see when I got to the bottom of the stairs. The courtyard, even with the drainage, was under about an inch of water as we splashed through it on our way to the passage to the front gate. Theoretically, both the roof of our building and the one next door covered the passageway, but it never really worked that way. Both roofs drained out to pipes that reached the sidewalk in the front, but in several places in the passageway it was coming down in a waterfall. My calves and ankles and feet were completely soaked by the time I got to the gate. I turned the dead bolt and opened it, letting Frank and Taylor out. Then I closed it and locked it just as a gust of wind almost ripped my umbrella out of my hands.

  The sidewalks were pretty much deserted because of the rain, with people taking shelter under balconies or inside. The gutters were full and in some places were overflowing onto the sidewalk. The rain was relentless, battering at our umbrellas while gusts of wind tried to wrench them out of our hands. Cars were going slow since the water was rising and it was so dark. There was a bright flash of lightning before thunder roared so loudly that I jumped. I could smell burnt ozone when we reached the corner at Royal Street. I didn’t think we were ever going to get to Mom’s, but finally we crossed St. Philip Street and there was only another block to go. By the time we reached the door to her back stairs, my legs were soaked and I was shivering.

  I unlocked the iron gate and the door behind it and let Frank and Taylor in before closing both and making sure they were locked again. Water was running down the steps like a gradated waterfall, and we splashed our way up, the rain beating steadily on our umbrellas. Frank and Taylor stepped out of my way when I got to the top and fumbled with my keys. Finally, I unlocked the back door and called out, “Rain? Mom?” as I shook the excess water off my umbrella before dumping it into the umbrella stand right beside the door.

  My teeth started chattering immediately, because even though the temperature had dropped outside because of the rain, Mom still had her air-conditioning set at sixty-five.

  The entire place reeked of pot smoke, and I walked through the kitchen to see Rain curled up under a blanket on the couch. She was holding a joint and watching Grand Dames of Palm Springs. She exhaled, a plume of smoke heading for the ceiling. She gave me a lazy grin. “Sorry. Didn’t want to waste the hit. You know how it is.”

  I rolled my eyes as Frank came into the room, followed by Taylor, who had the scanner in his hands and was staring at it in fierce concentration. Frank didn’t look very happy and gave me a frustrated look. I tried not to grin.

  Taylor was really taking to being a private eye.

  Rain watched him for a moment and looked at me, puzzled. I held a finger to my lips and shook my head. “How’s Mom?” I asked in a pleasant, conversational tone, gesturing for her to play along.

  “Still sleeping,” Rain replied. You think the place is bugged? She mouthed the words at me, her eyes following Taylor and Frank as they cleared the room and headed down the hallway.

  I plopped down next to her on the couch. “We found one in our apartment,” I whispered. “If our place was bugged, surely the kidnappers must have planted some bugs here.”

  “This is all so fucking crazy, Scotty.” She took another hit from the joint. “Why would anyone kidnap Dad? It doesn’t make any sense. I mean, no offense, but Dad’s pretty harmless. I can see Mom pissing someone off enough to kidnap her and fit her with cement shoes.” She rolled her eyes and held up her hand to cut me off as I started to speak. “You know I’m right. She’s pissed off a lot of powerful people over the years. So have you, for that matter—but everyone you’ve pissed off is in jail.”

  That hadn’t even occurred to me—but I immediately dismissed the thought. All the killers I’ve exposed were still doing time and would most likely never get out.

  “But then again, nothing around here ever makes sense,” Rain went on. “I know I shouldn’t have rolled this”—she gestured with the joint—“but I was going crazy sitting around here waiting for the phone to ring, you know? And Mom’s just a wreck.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen her like this, ever. Have you?”

  I shook my head. “No, but you know, she’s always had Dad as her rock.” I could feel the fear and worry building up inside me again, so I closed my eyes and focused on my happy place until I was able to get myself under control. “I can’t imagine what she would do if—no, I’m not going to go there.” I choked myself off.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to Dad, Scotty.” Rain put her arm around me and I put my head down on her shoulder.

  You don’t know that, I wanted to say, but if that was what she had to believe to keep from breaking down, I wasn’t going to take that away from her.

  Frank and Taylor came back into the living room, Frank putting the scanner back in his backpack. He was frowning. “Nothing—nothing at all.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, any sense at all. Why would they bug our apartment and not Mom’s?”

  Taylor looked like he was about to explode. “What is it, Taylor?” I asked, sitting up and wiping at my eyes so Frank couldn’t see I’d been upset.

  He gave Frank a dirty look. He took a deep breath. “You’re assuming the kidnappers planted the bug. You don’t know that’s who did it.”

  Of course—he’s absolutely right.

  “He’s right.” I stood up. “We don’t.”

  “For all you know, it might have something to do with Colin’s work,” Taylor went on, as Frank just gaped at his nephew. “And you told me, Scotty, that any number of people have issues with you—you’ve put a lot of people in jail, haven’t you? And Uncle Frank, you worked for the FBI long enough to retire, right? You probably made a bunch of enemies, right?”

  “My God,” Frank breathed, the words barely audible.

  “And you also don’t know how long it’s been there. It could have been there for months, years even.” Taylor stood there, his arms folded, a smug look on his face.

  “Good thinking, Taylor, but Colin scans the apartment every couple of days when he’s home—and I know he scanned the place right before he left two days ago,” I said, and when his face fell, I added, “But it was very good thinking, Taylor—you’re a natural at this!” He pree
ned, which broke my heart just a little bit. Clearly, praise wasn’t something he was used to. What is wrong with your parents? I wondered for maybe the millionth time since I’d met him. He’s bright, smart, healthy, good-looking—everything a parent would want. Why is gay such a crime to people like that?

  “Well, we need a plan of attack,” I said, standing up and starting to pace. I always think better when I’m in motion. “Rain, you want to do some Internet research, maybe find out if anyone who has a grudge against me might be out of jail?”

  “I can do that,” Taylor said, whipping his smartphone out of his pocket.

  “Easier for Rain,” I replied, shaking my head. “She knows who to look for. Frank, you’re going to have to make a list of people with a grudge against you.” Frank had never, in all the years we’d been together, told me anything about any of the cases he’d worked as a special agent. The only one I knew anything about was the one he was working when we met. Come to think of it, I didn’t know much about Frank’s past—but that was something to think about later, once we’d found Dad. “And see whatever you can find out about the deduct box, Rain—anything, fact, fiction, legend, rumor—anything.” I looked over at Taylor. “You have a driver’s license, right?” He nodded. “Taylor and I are going to go interview Dr. Fleming.”

  “What?” Frank exploded. “No way! He needs to stay here! I can—”

  I cut Frank off. “No, baby, I want you to stay here with Mom, in case the kidnappers call again—you need to be here.” I held up my hand as he started to bluster again. “You’re trained to deal with kidnappers, aren’t you? You’re the best person for that job. Taylor and I will be fine.”

  “I can handle it.”

  We all turned to look at Mom. She was standing in the hallway, wiping her eyes. She looked terrible, the worse I’ve ever seen her look. It was like all the fighting spirit had been sapped right out of her. She looked haggard, worn, and tired. She was wearing a ratty old LSU football jersey and a pair of sweatpants that belonged in the garbage. Her hair, usually so tightly controlled in her long braid, had come loose and she hadn’t bothered to rebraid it. As we watched, she walked into the room, picked up a dead joint out of the ashtray, and relit it, taking a long, deep, healthy drag. She closed her eyes and held the smoke in for so long I began to wonder if she’d stopped breathing, before she expelled it in a huge plume that seemed to fill the room. She opened her eyes and smiled at us all. Her face slowly came back into itself and her eyes came to life.