by Jana DeLeon
“Thank you. I really appreciate all your help.”
He grinned and winked at her, then hurried back down the hallway. Shaye poured herself a cup of water from the cooler in the corner. If Charlie Evans was as helpful as Richard, and actually knew something relevant, today might start looking up.
A couple of minutes later, a scruffy blond-haired man walked into the conference room and gave her a wary glance. Shaye put him late twenties to early thirties, and he had a look about him that said he was no stranger to trouble.
“The boss says you wanted to see me,” he said.
“Yes. My name is Shaye Archer.” She stuck out her hand. Charlie gave it a single shake and released it almost immediately. “Why don’t you have a seat?” she said.
Charlie pulled out one of the chairs and dropped into it, his arms crossed. Shaye shut the door to the conference room and sat on the same side of the table as him but a little ways down. Enough space to keep him from being crowded, but no table in between to make him feel like he was on trial. Eleonore had taught her well.
“I’m a private investigator working for David Grange’s wife,” Shaye said.
Charlie’s eyes widened. “This is about David?”
She nodded and his shoulders relaxed a little. Apparently, Charlie thought his own butt was in a sling. Now that he knew the summons wasn’t about him, he wasn’t as anxious. “Ms. Grange has had some trouble lately. Someone is harassing her, and they seem to know a lot about David and their marriage.”
“She don’t know who it is?”
“No. But he’s gone so far as to break into her house, so she’s rightfully scared.”
“Why don’t the police do something?”
“They don’t have any evidence to work with.”
Charlie snorted. “And Emma ain’t got the clout to make them jump. Cops suck.”
“The rules suck.”
He shrugged. “Amounts to the same thing for the people who need help, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Can you tell me anything about David—specifically about family, friends, his past?”
“Ron got him the interview. Said they were cousins. He didn’t talk about no other family, except Emma, of course.”
“Was he friends with any of the other employees?”
“Not really.” He shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I know you ain’t supposed to speak ill of the dead and all, but the truth is I didn’t like David much. He was weird—nice one minute, then he’d completely lose his shit the next. It’s hard to be around people when you don’t know what’s going to set them off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like this one time when we was offshore, some of us were playing poker. Willie was talking smack about his own mom, saying as how she was a crazy bitch who’d ran his dad off and probably caused his heart attack. David gets all antsy and tells Willie to shut up—that he didn’t know anything and maybe his dad was just another piece of shit that abandoned his family because it was convenient.”
“Willie’s talk made David mad.”
“More like furious. I know it probably sounded bad, but in Willie’s defense, I’ve known his family my whole life and his mother is definitely a crazy bitch. I’m surprised his dad stuck around as long as he did.”
“What did David do?” she asked.
“Willie told him to shut up since he didn’t know nothing about nothing. David’s face turns dark red and before we knew it, he flips the table over and launches across it, grabbing Willie by the throat. It took four of us to pry him off of Willie. If we hadn’t been there…”
“You think David would have killed Willie?”
“I know it. If you coulda seen the look on his face. I ain’t never seen anyone look that way. Don’t ever want to again.”
“Did you report what happened to management?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
“No. Willie didn’t want to be on the hook for someone losing his job. A couple of us tried to talk Willie into reporting it, but he said David was a soldier and we should all cut him some slack this once. Willie served too. His whole family did. Willie said sometimes you see things that screw with you, and hopefully, David would work it out.”
“Did Willie ever talk to David about the attack?”
“No. We left the rig the next day and David was killed a couple days after.”
“But that’s not the only time David lost his temper?”
Charlie shook his head. “It was the only time he got physical, but he yelled at people a lot. Sometimes he’d sit out on the deck and just stare across the Gulf. I could see his lips moving, but wasn’t nobody out there with him.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Don’t tell anyone I said it, but it kinda creeped me out.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Since her first conversation with Emma, Shaye had found the case chock-full of creepy. “So there’s nothing else you can tell me about David’s past, no other friends or family that he mentioned?”
“Nah. I mostly kept quiet around him. I always had this feeling he was going to blow someday, you know? That thing with Willie confirmed it.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.” She pulled out her card and handed it to Charlie. “If you think of anything that might help, please give me a call.”
He nodded and rose from the chair. He stuffed the card in his jeans pocket and headed out of the room, pausing at the door. “I hope you catch the guy,” he said. “I only met Emma once, but she seemed like a nice lady.”
“Thanks.” Shaye looked down at her notes. Time to ask Greta where to find the cousin Ron.
Chapter Eleven
Corrine knocked on the front door of the apartment, then listened for any movement inside. The call had come late in the afternoon, but the woman had sounded frantic, and the distant sound of a child screaming had Corrine as concerned as the caller. The woman refused to give her name but said she was visiting a friend at this address and the baby had been screaming like that for over an hour.
It was common for callers to request anonymity. Getting labeled a snitch could lead to harsh consequences in some of the areas Corrine worked. She knocked again, but still nothing. Maybe the mother had returned and left with the infant. Or maybe she’d suffocated him and was hiding inside. Corrine sighed. She’d seen both.
She twisted the doorknob and was surprised when it turned easily in her hand. The door popped open a bit. “Is anyone home? My name is Corrine. I need to talk to whoever lives here.”
She waited several seconds, but no one answered. Cracking the door another couple of inches, she peered inside and frowned. Something was wrong. She pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment. Most of the places she entered were sparse with belongings. The people she dealt with didn’t have much, but this apartment was completely empty except for a couple of faded food wrappers on the floor near the window.
She stepped over to the kitchen and ran a finger across the counter. The layer of dust it contained would take weeks, if not months, to accumulate. She pulled out her phone and checked the address again. This was the right place, and the number on the door matched the unit number she’d taken from the caller. But she was certain that no one had lived here in some time.
There were five other units on the third floor, so she exited the apartment and knocked on the door across the hall. Silence. A strange feeling came over her and she twisted the doorknob. The door popped open and she found herself looking into another abandoned apartment. A chill ran through her. She released the doorknob and whirled around.
At the end of the hall, the apartment door across from the stairs creaked open. Her chest constricted and she struggled to take in air. The building didn’t have a fire escape, and the third floor was too high to risk a jump. The only way out was that staircase. She pulled Mace from her purse and hurried down the hall for the stairs, her gaze fixed on the apartment across the hall. When she reached the
stairs, she was almost at a run.
She was so focused on the apartment across the hall that she never heard the man come out of the apartment next to the stairs. When she took her first step down the stairs, hands slammed against her shoulders and sent her hurtling forward. She crashed midway down the stairs, her right shoulder and head smashing into the old wooden steps. She tried to grab hold of something, but couldn’t get a good grasp on anything.
She flipped over again and again and finally crumpled to a stop on the second-floor landing. Pain shot through her right arm and shoulder, and her ankle throbbed. A shadow passed over her and she looked up, her vision blurred. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, and moved her left arm across the floor, desperately searching for the Mace she’d dropped on the way down.
When the shadow bent over her, she screamed. A boot connected with her temple and it felt as if her head exploded. Then everything went black.
###
Ron Duhon was on a seven-day on, seven-day off schedule, and as Shaye’s luck would have it, he happened to be on the off portion. He agreed to meet with her at a coffee shop, claiming his girlfriend was sick and he didn’t want to disturb her by having Shaye come to his apartment. Shaye took down the address, thanked Greta for all her help, and headed out of the oil company, her notes tucked under her arm.
She’d talked to five other employees who had worked semi-regularly with David, but none of them had been able to add anything to what she’d already learned from Charlie. None of them expressed as much dislike for David as Charlie had, but they all agreed that David had a temper and it was best to stay out of his way when he was in a foul mood. A couple said they were surprised to learn that he’d taken his anger out on Emma, as David appeared to really care about her, but then rage was an unpredictable thing. All five expressed some level of shock over the way things went down, but all of them seemed to think Emma had done the right thing and were sorry she’d been put in that position.
As Shaye drove to the café, she struggled to get a handle on David Grange. Certainly suffering or even witnessing atrocities shaped a person, and PTSD was common for people who had experienced something traumatic, but she was still having trouble reconciling the person Emma described before he went to Iraq with the person who had returned. What had happened while he was overseas that could force him that quickly into a complete one-eighty?
The people she really needed to talk to were those who served with David, but Emma didn’t know any of their names, and the military sure as hell wasn’t going to hand her over a list of what amounted to suspects. If this Ron was really David’s cousin, then maybe he’d have another avenue for her to run down.
The coffee shop was in the Tremé, tucked between an apartment building and an art shop. Shaye entered the shop and looked around, almost doing a double take when she spotted the man who had to be Ron, sitting in the back corner. He looked up at her and she waved, then headed over to him. As she got closer, the differences between him and David emerged. Ron’s cheekbones weren’t as prominent as David’s and his jaw wasn’t as square, but they looked enough alike that Ron could have passed for David, especially in moonlight. The build was the same, and the haircut and color matched the photos she’d seen.
“Ron Duhon?” Shaye asked as she stepped up to the table.
“Yeah. You the PI?”
She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. “I’m Shaye. Thanks for meeting me.”
“No problem. You said this is about David?”
“Yes. I’m trying to get some information on him—his friends, family, past. I understand you were cousins.”
Ron shook his head. “Nah. I mean, that’s what I said to get him the interview, but I didn’t know the guy.”
“Then why would you vouch for him as family?”
“Lots of people are looking for work, especially with more of the military guys coming home. I had a buddy from high school who served with David. He said David needed a job in New Orleans and asked if I’d help him out.”
“That was kinda risky, wasn’t it?”
He frowned. “I didn’t think so when I did it. I mean, my buddy vouched for him. David was military and his wife was a nurse. I did eight years serving, so I figured he was a good dude and could use a break.”
“Uh-huh, and how did that turn out for you?”
“Not so well. I caught some crap from the other guys over the way David acted. Sometimes he was cool, but other times, he could be a real asshole to work with. Sorry for the cussing, but I don’t really have a better word for it.”
“That’s okay. I’ve already heard that description a time or two today.”
“I bet.”
“Did David ever mention any other family besides Emma?”
Ron shook his head. “He didn’t talk about much personal stuff, just about cars sometimes. When he was feeling sociable.”
“Can you tell me how to contact this high school buddy of yours?”
“Man, I don’t know. I don’t want to get him in trouble. He was just trying to help the guy out. He didn’t know the dude was going to lose it like he did.”
“No one could have known that, and no one is responsible for David’s actions but David.”
“I guess so. His name is Paul Schaffer. I don’t have his number. He called from the base. I think he was being deployed again, though.”
“He’s from New Orleans?”
“Natchez.”
“Does he live on base when he’s stateside?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t ask. We’re not close or anything. He just calls me up when he’s in town and we have a couple beers.”
Shaye made a note of the name in her phone. “You know if he’s planning a beer call anytime soon?”
“I doubt it. Like I said, I think he’s back over. Not sure I’d go this time, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“There was some things David said…talking about stuff they did overseas.”
“Like what?”
“He never gave me any details. The hints were bad enough. I got the impression the other guys in the unit were happy when the tour was over and David left.”
Shaye frowned. Emma said David changed after his last tour, so whatever caused his shift in personality had happened while he was in Iraq. Ron seemed to be verifying that idea. Maybe this Paul had gotten him into things he couldn’t handle once the dust cleared and the bombs stopped exploding.
“Do you need me for anything else?” Ron asked. “I need to get my girlfriend some cough medicine…”
“No, we’re good. Thanks for meeting me.” She handed him her card. “If you can think of anything else or anyone else who might know more about David, please give me a call.”
“Sure.” He shoved the card in his pocket and headed out of the café.
Shaye watched as he walked past the window of the café, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched, a slight limp favoring his right leg. He was the only person she’d interviewed who hadn’t asked her why she wanted information on David. It was odd, but then someone from the oil and gas company had probably called to warn him.
She placed some money on the table and gathered her stuff. Time to head back home and try to track down Paul Schaffer. His was the only name she had that linked to David’s time in the military. Hopefully, Schaffer would be stateside and have some answers.
Her phone rang as she exited the café. She didn’t recognize the number.
“This is Shaye Archer.”
“Ms. Archer, this is Sergeant Boyd with the New Orleans Police Department.”
Shaye’s hands tightened on the phone. Something had happened to Emma. Shaye hadn’t worked quickly enough and the stalker had gotten to her.
“What happened? Is Emma all right?”
“I don’t know an Emma, Ms. Archer. Your mother has been in an accident. She’s in New Orleans General.”
Her entire body went rigid and her breath exited in a whoosh. “I
s she all right? What happened?”
“She’s in with the doctor now. I’d rather discuss this in person.”
“Of course. I’m on my way.”
She broke into a run for her car and pulled away from the curb, tires squealing. For the moment, speed limits and red lights were suggestions. She was careful not to put anyone else in danger, but broke the law at least ten times before she jolted to a stop in the emergency room parking lot. She jumped out of her car and ran through the double doors, sliding the last two feet into the reception desk.
“I’m Shaye Archer. My mother, Corrine, was in an accident?”
A tall, stocky young man wearing a police uniform exited the emergency room doors and approached her. “Ms. Archer? I’m Sergeant Boyd.”
“Where’s my mother?”
“This way.” He motioned her down the hall and they hurried into a room.
Corrine was lying in the hospital bed, an IV in her arm. Her face was puffy with scratches down the side and bruises already forming on her cheeks. Her lip was busted, and dried blood clung to her chin. Her eyes were closed and her breathing so shallow that if it weren’t for the monitors, Shaye wouldn’t have been certain she was breathing at all.
A doctor with a chart standing next to the bed looked over as they entered. “You must be Ms. Archer’s daughter. I’m Dr. Stabler.”
“Yes.” Shaye hurried over to the bed, her heart clenching. The injuries looked even worse up close. “Is she all right? What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly what happened,” Dr. Stabler said. “Only that she took a fall down the stairs in an abandoned building. Her injuries are consistent with a hard fall. She has a couple of bruised ribs and a slight concussion. She’s going to feel pretty bad for several days, and the ribs will bother her for a lot longer, but she’s going to be fine.”
The breath Shaye had been holding escaped and she felt her knees buckle. She clutched the bed railing to steady herself. “Is she unconscious?”
“No. She’s sleeping, probably her body’s way of getting past the pain. I want to keep her here tonight for sure and run tests again tomorrow. Then I can assess when she can leave.”
