by Sandra Hill
Until four a.m. when she’d awakened him to say it was time to take a shower and go home. She’d gotten back at him then by giving him an ear orgasm while he’d leaned against the shower tiles. He’d already told her how sensitive his ears were and how he’d had fantasies about her tongue, and, well, you get the idea.
She’d been back in bed and almost asleep again—What girl wouldn’t be after all those climaxes?—when Adam, fully dressed and about to leave, had leaned down to kiss her and said, “Call me.”
In fact, she could have sworn he’d said, “Call me, love.”
Chapter Fifteen
All in a day’s work . . .
When she got downstairs to the office, the first one she saw was BaRa who remarked, “Someone’s been ridden hard and put down wet.”
So much for all of Simone’s efforts to appear normal.
Her mother, who was wearing a one-piece, black spandex body suit patterned with red chevrons, which made her back end look like a Chevrolet (Where is she shopping these days?), took one look at Simone, then did a double-take. “I knew it. Cajun Crazy again!”
Tante Lulu, who had just “stopped by” on her way to the bank, must shop at the same place as her mother because she was all dolled up in a black-and-red herringbone shorts set. The old lady cackled and said, “God bless thunderbolts!” But then she wagged her finger at Simone, cautioning, “But God doan like no hanky panky outside marriage. Best ya be callin’ the banns real soon.”
Ed, the painter, who was finishing up some last-minute detailing, muttered when he saw her enter the kitchenette, “Some guy’s walkin’ bow-legged today.”
And Helene, when she came in for a ten a.m. meeting, just grinned.
“Kimly Bien called me late last night. Mike Pham went berserk when he was served and made all kinds of threats against his wife.”
“Oh, no! Was she hurt?”
“No. If she had been, we could have hauled his ass to jail today. But she was afraid, and called her sister. The question is how to protect her now.”
“She wouldn’t be safe with her sister?”
Helene shook her head. “That would be Pham’s first place to look for her. And Kimly’s biggest concern is Thanh herself. Her husband, once his rage is tamped down, will try to cajole his wife into dropping all the ‘nonsense.’ He told her, ‘You know that what is mine is yours, too. We don’t need any papers to prove that.’ And already Thanh is weakening.”
“And the solution?”
“I was thinking she could stay with your mother.”
“At The Gates? I hate involving my mother in this kind of thing.”
“She’d love it. And it would get her out of your hair here for a few days. Besides, you’ll want her to babysit your cat again while you go out of town, just in case you need to stay an extra day.”
“Oh, please let this be a one-night deal. I feel dirty just thinking about what those people do.”
“I would think you’d been in a bit of dirt already,” Helene remarked, looking pointedly at Simone’s puffy lips.
“Good dirt,” Simone told her.
“Anyhow, be safe tonight. All we need from you and Gabe is some audio with Pitot making perverted suggestions, and some photographs of the stuff these people do at these parties, or the accessories. His wife already has the goods on his affairs. She needs stuff he would never want made public.”
“Accessories?”
“Hey, if Pham has his condo equipped with a special room, you can be sure Pitot has accommodations to suit his guests’ specialized requests.”
“I’m gonna have to bathe with lye soap after this.”
“Call me,” Helene said before she left.
Which reminded Simone of Adam’s last words to her.
“I meant to tell you, that Ferguson creep got a plea bargain.”
“What? Don’t tell me they released him.”
“No, he’s going to serve ten years minimum, lose his teaching license, have to pay fifty thousand dollars in various fines, and be a registered pedophile. Which was a gift to him, actually. Girls were creeping out of the woodwork, willing to testify against him. At trial, he could have gotten lots worse.”
“At least Darlene won’t have to testify in open court, and she and her mother can, hopefully, start getting their lives back on track.”
“Right,” Helene agreed.
After that, they spoke to Simone’s mother about having Thanh as a guest for a few days.
Adelaide surprised both Simone and Helene by being not only willing but enthusiastic about the idea. “My feet have been killin’ me, and the doctor says I need to rest my knees more,” she revealed.
Simone could have said, “I told you so,” but didn’t.
“Maybe she kin teach me how to make Vietnamese food,” Adelaide mused as they walked toward her car. She was going to follow Helene to the Pham house where Kimly’s sister was helping Thanh to pack.
“Or maybe you can teach her how to make gumbo,” Simone said.
Things settled down after that until Gabe came to pick her up midafternoon. She’d gone next door to buy a few items from the boutique, items suitable for a lakeshore dinner. White slacks, a blue-and-white-striped blouse, white sandals, and a pretty red, soft-as-kitten-fur pashmina in case it got chilly.
It was only later when they arrived at the lodge that Simone realized things were not going to go according to their plans.
First of all, their car was blocked in the driveway so they couldn’t make a fast getaway if it was required.
Second, the evening’s agenda included a quick swim before dinner. And she hadn’t brought a bathing suit. But neither had anyone else.
Third, one of the guests—a short, bald guy, Sam Salter, who owned a chain of gyms in Biloxi and had the steroid muscles to show for it—had taken an instant liking to her, and he had the hands of an octopus. Besides, he liked to brag, explicitly, about what he could do with that bald head.
Fourth, she and Gabe had gotten separated right from the start, with Caroline latching on to him like he was the new best thing. Gabe—bless his actor’s heart—was playing right into Caroline’s flirtation by pretending to be horndog happy at her attention. At one point, Simone heard him say to Pitot’s mistress, “I drank two bottles of pineapple juice today. Makes my happy juice taste like piña coladas.”
Eew! Where does Gabe come up with this stuff? Maybe it’s just a man thing . . . the male genetic inclination to crudeness.
And, finally, sharknado alert! Marcus Pitot had the mean, steely-gray eyes of an ocean predator, and he was watching her every move. Whatever he was into, it was going to be painful. The music from Jaws played in her head.
For the first time, Simone began to question her new profession.
It was raining rage . . .
Mike Pham came storming into LeDeux & Lanier that afternoon in a rage. “My wife has lost her friggin’ mind. I oughta have her committed. Can I have her committed? Otherwise, I just might have to kill the bitch.”
Mildred backed up, frightened by the red-faced man, even though he was yelling toward Adam and Luc who’d come out of their offices, and not at her. Any minute now she’d be reaching for her Mace.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Enough of that kind of talk!” Luc warned, motioning Mike, as well as Adam, into his office, shutting the door behind them. “Now what’s going on?”
“I got back from Vegas last night, and some kid slapped these papers in my hands in the middle of the airport.”
“A process server?” Adam asked.
“Yeah, some pimple-faced asshole of a college kid. Shoved the papers in my hands and ran.”
Wish I’d been there!
Adam and Luc looked over the documents, which appeared to be various subpoenas and court filings related to the Pham shrimp business, a home, and other property. In addition, meek little Thanh Pham was preempting her husband by filing for divorce first. Would an air fist pump be out of order? Adam wondered. The divorce petit
ion mentioned grounds of adultery and “living separately and apart.”
“You haven’t been living at home?” Adam inquired.
“Sometimes I do. I have a place on Grand Isle that I prefer.” He shrugged with defiance, as if he had every right to do so.
“It says that your business is in your name and your father’s. Any reason why your wives’ names aren’t on it?” Luc asked.
“My mother is dead, but her name was never listed as an owner, either. It’s a Vietnamese thing. The man is the head of the family and the business.”
That didn’t seem so bad. Sexist, and old-fashioned, but not anything to raise legal alarm bells.
“And the house?” Luc asked.
“Same thing.” Mike’s flushed face said there was more to the story.
“Have you talked to your wife about these?” Luc pointed to the documents.
Mike nodded. “Thanh wants a million dollars, the house, a car, and a bunch of other stuff. Which she is going to get over my dead body. Kimly put my wife up to this, I know she did.”
Something more was going on here. “Excuse me a moment,” Adam said and went into his own office where he called Kimly Bien. And, boy, did he get an earful!
Fifteen minutes later, when he returned to Luc’s office, he said, “There are pictures.”
“Of what? Me screwing some woman? Big deal!”
“More than that.” Adam looked at Luc. “It would seem there’s a room in Mike’s condo on Grand Isle called ‘The Dungeon.’ And photographs to prove some unusual activities.”
Mike’s face went beet red. “It’s not illegal.”
“Probably not, but what could be illegal is your business setup,” Adam said. “When you married Thanh, did she bring a number of shrimping boats into the business in exchange for which it was intended that she become part owner of the company?”
“Like I said, it’s a Vietnamese thing.”
Luc exchanged a quick glance with Adam. “Look, Mike, you were our client for the Pham versus Cypress case. And that’s all. This other crap, including a divorce, will have to be handled by Jessie John Daltry. I want nothing to do with it.”
“That’s bullshit. You lawyers are all alike. In for the easy kill, out when it requires some work.”
“Um, I think enough’s been said here today,” Adam said, going over to open the door. “It’s been nice working with you.” Not!
Mike said a few foul words before gathering up his paperwork and storming out. “I’ll see you two shysters in court. And not on my behalf. I’m gonna sue your asses off for malpractice.”
“Go for it!” Adam said, following him out, just in case he punched in a wall or scared Mildred even more than she already was.
Afterward, he and Luc agreed that it was good riddance. They did not need clients like Mike, despite any money they might bring in.
Adam was driving home later that day, and was stuck in the downtown rush-hour traffic when he noticed Adelaide Daigle, Simone’s mother, standing outside the Legal Belles office waving him down. He frowned with confusion. It was five-thirty, Simone was out of town, and the office should have been closed for the day.
He pulled over into an illegal parking spot and opened his window, “Hey, Addie, what’s up?”
“I jist stopped by the office ta get some pain pills I left here earlier today.”
“And . . . ?”
“I need ta take a bag of kitty litter back ta the trailer park with me, but it’s upstairs and my knees are killin’ me t’day.”
“You want me to help?”
“I’d be much obliged.”
He followed her inside the office, and asked, “Where’s the bag?”
“In the pantry closet of Simone’s kitchen upstairs.”
He used the interior stairway to access Simone’s apartment and had no trouble locating the fifty-pound bag. How Addie was going to get it from her car to the inside of her trailer, he had no idea. Maybe a neighbor would help.
About to heft the bag onto his shoulder, he noticed the open laptop on Simone’s kitchen table. He shouldn’t look, but his attention was caught by the picture on the screen. It was a cedar-log lodge-type dwelling on a lake. Very attractive. Was Simone looking for vacation possibilities? Maybe a dirty weekend for the two of them?
But wait!
The fine hairs stood out on the back of Adam’s neck. He recognized that place. It was Marcus Pitot’s place on Lake Pontchartrain. The site of many of the sex club orgies that Hannah had frequented.
What did it mean?
Was Simone, the woman he was almost certainly in love with, into those types of perversions? He didn’t think so. Yeah, she’d blown his brains out with the sex last night, but it had been normal stuff. On the other hand, in the early days, when he’d first fallen for Hannah, he never would have suspected her of such perversions.
A rage began to build in him.
Duped again? Was that possible?
He knew it was unethical, but Adam sat down and began to play with Simone’s laptop. He soon realized that this was a job, not some personal perversion of Simone’s. She, and her agency, were investigating Marcus Pitot on behalf of his wife, Saffron Pitot, who was as flaky as a Southern biscuit but who seemed to have some good reasons to suspect her husband was up to no good. And there was a MapQuest page with driving directions.
His rage should have abated, but it didn’t.
Had she any idea what she was fooling with? Nabbing cheaters was one thing. Messing with a sadistic bastard like Marcus Pitot was another. To say he was dangerous was a vast understatement. Adam recalled rumors that Pitot had ordered one of his partners “eliminated” when he crossed him one time. And Adam knew for a fact that a woman who dropped out of the sex club, and talked about it, somehow ended up with a mugging that cut her face so badly she needed numerous plastic surgeries.
I thought you were smarter than that, Simone, he fumed, as he stood and picked up the cat litter and carried it down the steps and outside. After he tossed the bag into Addie’s trunk, she thanked him profusely. It was only as the car began to move away that he noticed the woman slumped down in the front seat with a head scarf pulled forward to cover her face.
No, it couldn’t be. He blinked and looked again. Oh, my God! It was Pham’s wife, Thanh.
Adam’s rage amped another few notches. Now, it wasn’t just Simone who was in danger, but her mother, too.
Was this the kind of woman he wanted around his daughter? One who had no care for her own safety, let alone those around her?
He practically saw red as he drove off, and not just because there was a parking ticket on his windshield.
What should he do?
How about nothing?
How could he go home, eat dinner, and play with Maisie when he knew where Simone was? Impossible!
But then, no one would expect him to be some Prince Charming coming to her rescue. In fact, Simone would reject that idea, vehemently. He knew how she valued her independence and police skills.
Pff! Marcus Pitot didn’t play by any rules the police academy taught.
She’d get what she deserved for being so stupid.
What if he scarred Simone? Hell, what if he killed her? A drowning at the lake . . . nothing unusual in that.
Who was he kidding? He was going after her, and he’d cart her home over his shoulder if he had to, like that bag of cat litter. But how did he barge into a private party, without an invitation, without giving up Simone’s game?
He thought of something suddenly, an excuse he could give Pitot for showing up unannounced. Driving home, he waved to his dad and Maisie, who were in the pool, and went upstairs to the file cabinet he kept in his office closet. It was a sealed manila envelope marked “Hannah,” which he placed in a slim leather briefcase.
“I’m going out for a while,” he yelled to his father from the open sliding door in the kitchen.
“How about that rage?” his father remarked before Adam had a chance t
o turn and leave. The old man was sitting on the edge of the pool in swimming trunks, his legs in the water.
“Rage? What rage? I’m not in a rage,” he lied.
“Huh? I didn’t say rage, I said stage. How about the stage that René LeDeux delivered today for the party?”
Adam noted then that beyond the pool, a miniature stage had been erected. And a wooden dance floor on the grass! So much for the expensive lawn care service he’d contracted! And holy crap! Their neighbors would have a bird over the noise, unless they invited them all, which they would probably have to. What was another twelve or so people?
“Dad-dy,” Maisie complained as she climbed out of the pool, dripping water from her sagging suit, and came toward him, “you promised we would go shopping.”
“I’ll go shopping with you tomorrow. Cross my heart, sweetie,” he said, marking an X on his chest before letting her give him a wet hug.
The big pool party would be held soon, and he’d been promising that he would help with a trip to Party Circus. Tomorrow he would pay up with a chore he hated . . . shopping.
For now, he had another chore to complete. And he couldn’t help but wonder if Simone would be around to come to their party.
Home, home on the range . . .
After skinny dipping in the lake, all the women wore long silk scarves, working them into sarongs, some more transparent than others, while the men wrapped shorter lengths of fabric around their hips. Claiming modesty, Simone had worn her underwear into the water, which proved amusing and somewhat of a challenge to all the others. Gabe had no problem going full monty, whether in his personal life or for a job, apparently.
She sensed that everyone was cautiously studying her and Gabe, gauging their reactions to the setting and any innuendo of sexual activity. Nothing overt was revealed yet, except for Sam the Hands, who’d toned down his groping after a while, probably after a few words of warning from Marcus. She had noticed when they’d entered the lake that Sam was unusually well-endowed (Like porno-star huge!), which could only be an asset for a club like this. Otherwise, he was a little crude compared to the others.
