Double Danger

Chapter 3

Sam slept at Maire"s place for two days. He had awakened the first morning to find Madsen feeding Beatrice a beef bone, then he had drifted back to sleep. Not once did he have the persistent nightmare which often awakened him in the night, soaked in sweat, still lingering in a dream world where he was struggling in vain to close the wounds on Kira"s mangled face.

He awakened again later, this time to the smell of smoke and hot wax. Through his sleep-induced stupor he could see Madsen in front of an altar aglow with candles. After Sam mumbled something about a smoke detector, Madsen crawled back into bed next to him then pulled the sheet up over his chest and waited until he drifted off again.

When he finally crawled out of his half-coma the second morning, he stumbled to the kitchen to find Maire. There they drank a pot of steaming chicory coffee as the late morning sun glinted off her long, silky legs. Sam quietly listened as she filled him in on her life since they had last seen each other. He knew she would wait patiently until he felt he could do the same.

“Convince me again why it was a good idea that we never slept together,” Sam teased her.

“You know you were underage when we met. Then you got pinned to that uptight sorority girl at Tulane, and that"s when I became persona non grata.”

“Never persona non grata to me. But maybe to uptight Simone.”

“After you and Simone headed to Pepperdine Law School, I thought that was the last I"d hear from you except for the occasional scraps of information from Duval. I must admit I was pleased when you occasionally stayed in touch. So why is it you never practiced law after passing the bar, Sam?”

“I found law to be about as exciting as a Tabasco colonic. If I had given it enough time, I might have found a branch of law I liked, but joining the Marines felt right at the time. Maybe I was just trying to get away from Simone,” he grinned.

“Well, that"s the one thing that does make sense!”

“Before I met Kira, I did come back to see you. That"s when I heard you had married and moved to Martinique. I was jealous and envious.”

and“It was nice until my reprobate husband gambled away most of our money. I left him there and came back here to the only other place I had known as home. By then, you were gone forever. At least that"s what I thought. It seemed as though timing was never on our side, chere. But here you are, and for once we are both free.”

“You know I"m still dealing with endings, right?”

“Yes. And I am here first and foremost as a friend.”

“Thank you.”

“I don"t know what I want either. I know what I don"t want is complications. Let"s take it slow and see where it goes.”

don"t“That would be interesting. And very nice.”

“You"re the only man who has never judged me for my profession, Sam.”

“I hope that"s a quid pro quo. We cops aren"t exactly moralistic.”

“Ah, I know you were never a dirty cop. And believe it or not, I had my standards also.”

“That"s probably the real reason you never slept with me.”

“Ha, I certainly should have! Throughout my life I"ve only slept with men I cared about, and never for money. I bought this business at an early age to support myself, and I never saw it as anything but business. Nevertheless, I am not exactly held in high esteem by the Junior League.”

Sam smiled, “Well I am sure the Junior Cadets adore you.”

* * *

After breakfast, as Sam reclined on the veranda swing, the heat closed in like a wet blanket. Celeste, flaunting all her blond hair and ripe sensuality, stepped out to greet him with a frosty margarita, which Sam gratefully accepted.

“Why don"t you stick around awhile now that you"ve caught up on your sleep?” Celeste suggested as she leaned against the wooden door frame. “I could show you what New Orleans has to offer.” When she shifted her legs under her wrap skirt, it was apparent she was wearing nothing under the clinging fabric. She spread her legs and fanned the hem of her skirt with one hand to cool her thighs while she tossed her blond hair away from her neck and licked the sweat off her lip.

“It"s hot enough already, Celeste,” Sam grinned appreciatively. He knew when he was being worked. “I think I"ll go inside before I suffer a meltdown.”

“You can"t be celibate forever, handsome,” Celeste said to his back as he walked away. “I know a primed pump when I see one.”

Sam paused–was he that obvious? Didn"t matter, he reminded himself as he shoved the door open, unless he and Maire still had something, he wasn"t going to go that route. He had let Madsen comfort him like a drug fix to kill the pain, but with most people, he preferred distance.

When Sam finally entered the parlor, he spotted Madsen. She was sitting primly upright on the divan as though she had been waiting awhile. “Mr. Lerner, do you think we could talk sometime? It"s kind of important.”

Sam wasn"t too sure how to read Madsen"s agitation, but it was barely disguised by her polite demeanor as she yanked her silver pendant back and forth along its long chain. He had been known to rattle the nerves of a lot of people in his better days, but they had usually been suspects.

“Call me Sam,” he said gently, “and of course, we can talk now, Madsen. I"m in no hurry to leave.”

“No, Maire says I"m to let you be for now. Until you adjust, she said. So I wanted to know if maybe when you come back we can talk?” Madsen smiled tentatively then tugged her pendant again.

“Sure. I"ll be back around soon to visit,” he assured her before pulling out his wallet. Sam was quite surprised when Madsen refused to accept his money.

“No, Mr., um I mean, Sam. It was so nice. It"s like being friends.”

Sam gently reached out to still her hand as she continued to pull at her pendant. “Yes, it is, Madsen. Friends.”

* * *

That had been five days earlier. Standing now in the kitchen of the old family home, he was feeling hang-dog guilty about hiding in his self-imposed seclusion. He really preferred to avoid human interaction, except on his own terms, but he couldn"t get Madsen"s sincere face out of his mind. He just didn"t want to be anybody"s friend right now–that"s how he needed it. However, Sam had promised her they would talk, and he was a man of his word. Perhaps he"d drop by Maire"s place later.

The battered farm house in St. Bernard Parish was just outside Chalmette. He and his father had moved there after his mother died and they left St. Tammany. He had inherited the property, and he knew there would be some sales potential in it if he cleaned it up and cleared the land. Besides, he was still too spent to go anywhere else too soon, even if he could find a direction.

Sam had substantial savings, and there was money from Kira"s life insurance policy. Ironic, he often thought, how Kira"s death provided money to keep him alive when he would have preferred to die with her.

Sam sighed. It was only 9:00 A.M. and the air was already thick with heat. He haphazardly began to unpack a few boxes with no clue as to how to organize things. He yanked open a kitchen drawer where he had already stashed away his S & W snub nose .38 and a can opener. How convenient, he observed wryly–if the can opener were to break, he could just blow the top off the can with his piece. That was as good a place as any for his socks, too, he figured. Why over-think it?

Just as he was unloading a few dishes, he heard a car pull up the dirt road alongside the house. Beatrice opened one eye but made no effort to move. “You"re supposed to discourage guests, girl,” Sam admonished on his way to the screen door. “I"m surprised you"re not firing up the barbecue!”

discourageHe saw a huge shadow as it fell across the porch and absorbed the morning light. Sam knew who it was even before Leon Duval lumbered into his own silhouette and came to a standstill.

“"Morning, Duval,” San drawled. “Am I wanted for becoming a Lakers fan, or are you just dropping by to look over our old high school year book?” Sam knew his remark landed with a bit more bite than he intended. Although Duval liked to relive the past, Sam was in no mood to explain how he was having a hard enough time just trying to hold on to the present.

“Not exactly either,” Duval answered matter-of-factly. He pushed through the door with a case of beer in hand. “I"m here on business. Jesus it"s hard to breathe. The air"s like one big steamin" cow paddy!”

Sam followed him to the kitchen where Duval unloaded the beer on the counter. “Business, eh? You opening up a speakeasy?”

“No, I"m opening up a new case. And I need your cooperation.”

“What in the hell do you need my cooperation for?”

myDuval shifted on his large feet as he looked around the room. “Well, Sammy, I got kind of a nuisance case I"ve got to tie up. I got me a citizen who went missin" just over a week ago, and I"m already up to my ass in a turd stew. I"m clean outta steam. I"ve been workin" overtime on another case–some runaway girl who disappeared a short while back, and then there"s that priest molestation scandal, too.”

“Interesting. But who"d molest a priest?”

“No, the priest did the porkin"!” After a beat, he shook his head and laughed. “Oh, hell, you"re just yankin" my wang, ain"t ya? "Father f*********n" we dubbed him.”

“That does have a certain ring to it.”

“Yeah. Anyway, these cases hang on like stink on s**t,” he groused as he yanked two beers out of the case.

“Duval, are you always this scatological before breakfast?”

“Well I already ate,” Duval shrugged as he held out a beer.

“No thanks, I"m trying to ease off.”

Duval ignored him and tossed it Sam"s way. When Sam caught the can, he noticed it was icy cold. He set the beer on the counter and decided to think about how badly he really wanted a drink. Pretty badly, as far as he could tell, but he knew he had been overdoing it, and he wasn"t sure how long a guy could live if his liver crapped out. He wouldn"t mind dying, it"s the lingering that was unappealing. Sam restrained himself as his guest opened a can and chugged thirstily.

Beatrice wandered into the kitchen at the sound of the pop top. Sam took Duval"s beer out of his hand, gave Beatrice a swig, and handed it back. Duval shrugged then took another drink. “I want to come back as a dog,” he grinned. “It"s true dogs look like their owners. You both could use a shave.”

“Neither of us expected company or I would have polished the silver. So about this missing persons case of yours–what"s the scoop? Can you cut to the chase, please?”

“It"s routine, probably a runaway,” Duval said dismissively. “But I was staring into a plate of ham "n eggs "n grits when I got the idea that you might start pokin" around a bit when you heard the news.”

“Why in God"s name would you think that? Do you see some private d**k sign hanging on my door?” Sam yanked the back door open for emphasis, pulling off the knob in the process. He grunted in disgust and then tossed the knob into the drawer with his weapon and his socks. “Rest assured, I"m out of the crime business for good.”

“I hear ya. But I was afraid you might work up an interest in local matters. And you"re always Mr. Nice Guy, so I thought you might find yourself being lured back into our business down here as a way of helping folks. And if you did, you could unintentionally step on my toes.”

Duval shuffled his feet self-consciously as he chose his next words with care. “See, I"m vying for another promo, Sammy, so I need to be a superstar on this. And I need to keep this under my complete control. But I"d be happy to hear any input from you,” he quickly added. “We all know you"re the guy with the brains. I"m just the little engine that could.”

“There"s nothing little about you, pal. And stuff the flattery. It"s me–Sam. I know your act. So if I read between the lines here, I"m to butt out, but because you think I"ll be motivated to do a bit of investigation on my own out of habit, I"m also to report to you immediately if I have any ideas or information that might help you solve the case and earn that promotion you"re jonesing for.”

“Sounds a bit harsh when you put it like that, but that"ll do. In the meantime, I got the p***y posse combing the streets, and I"m calling in a few favors. And I"ll throw a few your way, of course.”

“I thought you only accepted favors.”

accepted“True. But I promised Maire I"d help.”

“Maire? What"s she got to do with this?”

Duval immediately lifted a hand in warning. “Now remember, you promised me you"d stay out of it, and I"m holding you to it. The missing person was one of Maire"s girls.”

“Why in the hell didn"t you say that up front?”

“Because I knew how you"d react.”

“Well of course you did, you prick! Anything pertaining to Maire is of interest to me. What"s the girl"s name?” Sam demanded.

“Madsen.”

“MADSEN?”

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?” Duval complained. “Yes, Madsen Cassaise. And I understand you met her. "Seems right after that is when she went missing. But you are not to get involved unless it"s at my discretion, you understand, old friend?” There was an unmistakably menacing tone beneath the warning. “Oh, and I should probably add that based on what happened to the last hooker who went missing, the poor girl is most likely dead.”

Sam mechanically reached for the beer, popped the top, and chugged it down. He couldn"t shake the image of Madsen"s trusting gaze, and he knew there was not enough alcohol in New Orleans to wash down the lump in his throat.