Showdown in Mudbug

Maryse rang up a candle purchase in Sabine’s store and handed the woman her change and a bag with the candle. “Thank you, and please come again. Sabine will be back this weekend. I’m sure she’d be happy to schedule a reading for you.”

 

The woman smiled. “Thank you. I look forward to meeting her.”

 

Maryse watched until the woman left the shop and crossed the street before hurrying from the counter to the break room. Raissa was perched on a chair at the break-room table with a laptop in front of her. Maryse pulled a chair next to her and took a seat. “Did you get in yet?”

 

Raissa nodded. “Piece of cake.”

 

Maryse looked at the screen that prominently displayed the hospital’s medical rec ords and felt her pulse quicken. “You’re sure no one will track it back to you?”

 

“Someone would have to know I’ve broken in to even begin a trace. Mudbug General has simply horrible security. A high-school student could hack their system and never leave a trace.”

 

“That’s great to know, considering all my medical records are stored there.”

 

“Don’t sweat it. No one bothers with hospitals unless they’re looking for something to blackmail people over. And since most people go to clinics and pay cash for the blackmailable sorts of health issues, hospitals aren’t exactly hopping with hackers.”

 

“Okay,” Maryse said, not completely convinced. “So did you find anything?”

 

“There were five babies born during the time Helena was in the hospital having Hank. Three were girls, so that leaves only baby Frederick Agostino.”

 

“What a mouthful.”

 

“Tell me. Take a look at that birth weight.” Raissa pointed to a line on a birth record. “Surely if Hank had been an eleven-pound baby, Helena would have mentioned that.”

 

“Are you kidding me? If Helena had given birth to an eleven-pound baby, we’d have heard about it every day of her life, and she’d still be complaining after death. No one does persecution drama like Helena.”

 

Raissa closed the program with the hospital records and accessed a Web browser. She typed in a search for Frederick Agostino, and Maryse was surprised when a number of hits were returned. Raissa laughed and Maryse leaned in to read some of the results.

 

“A family-owned Italian restaurant. That explains the birth weight. Mama Agostino probably ate them out of restaurant and home while she was pregnant.”

 

Raissa clicked on one of the links and a news article about the restaurant appeared, complete with a picture of the Agostino family. It was obviously taken with a wide-angle lens.

 

“Well, that blows another theory,” Maryse said with a sigh. “Frederick is the spitting image of his mother.”

 

Raissa shook her head. “That is truly frightening, but you’re right. There’s no way Frederick isn’t Mrs. Agostino’s son.”

 

“Which means we still don’t know what happened to Helena’s baby,” Maryse said.

 

“Or where Hank came from.”

 

“Maybe when those aliens take one person, they leave another.”

 

Raissa shrugged. “It’s as good a theory as any other. You think Helena will buy that her son’s from another planet?”

 

Maryse sighed. “I would.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hank walked Lila to her car, anxious over what he was about to do. It was a risk. A huge risk, and Hank Henry was not the risk-taking kind of guy, not anymore. But Lila was standing there in her yellow sundress, her long brown hair falling in gentle waves across her shoulder, and Hank was mesmerized.

 

He opened her car door for her and stood there with his hand still on top of the door. She placed her notebook inside and turned to smile at him. It was a smile that turned his insides into jelly and other places on him into something far less squishy. In all his years on earth, Hank had never met a woman who left him so unbalanced.

 

“Thanks,” she said. “That first set of cabinets looks fabulous. I can’t believe you got them built so quickly.”

 

Hank blushed. “I might have worked a little overtime. I wanted to have something for you to look at when you came today.”

 

“It’s so exciting. Everything is going to look even better than I imagined, and the rooms are going to look like home and not a clinic.” She placed one of her hands on top of his. “I’m so glad you’re working here, Hank. You understand how important all this is. I’m very proud of you. And I have to say, I told you so.”

 

Hank looked down at the ground. “Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit.” He looked back up at her. “You made a huge difference in my life, more so than anyone else ever has. You were a stranger, and you still believed in me. I didn’t trust that at first. Didn’t think it was possible for me to be anything other than what I’d always been. Probably still wouldn’t if I hadn’t met you.”

 

Lila squeezed his hand and sniffed. “That’s so nice, and it means a lot to me.” She rubbed her nose with one finger and sniffed again. “My father was raised in harsh circumstances. He got into all sorts of trouble when he was a teenager, and people figured it was a given that he was going to spend most of his adult life in prison. But my mom saw something in him that no one else did, and she brought it out in him. He owns his own CPA firm and does really well.”

 

“Wow. He must be really smart.”

 

Lila grinned. “He was a bookie before that, so he said it just fit.”

 

Hank laughed. “That’s cool. Your mom must be a special woman. I guess that explains where you get it.” He looked down at the ground again and fidgeted, trying to build up the courage for what he wanted to do. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked back up at her. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? I understand if you say no, since I was a patient, and now I’m an employee, and well, I know you have a reputation to protect—”

 

Lila placed a finger on his lips to stop his rambling. “I’d love to have dinner with you. I’m free on Friday.” She leaned over and kissed him on the check. “I’ve got to run to my next appointment, but I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight for the walk-through with Chuck. We can make plans afterward.”

 

Hank nodded, unable to speak, as Lila got in her car and pulled away from the curb with a wave. His cheek tingled where her lips had touched his skin, and he watched her car until it turned the corner at the end of the block and he could no longer see it.

 

“How touching.” The voice sounded directly behind Hank and he spun around to face Rico Hebert.

 

“What do you want, Rico?” Hank asked.

 

“I want what Sonny wants.”

 

“I’ve already told you I don’t know anything. My ex-wife doesn’t know anything, and her friend that might know something is out of the country getting married. I’m a dead end.”

 

Rico nodded. “That’s what you say, but that psychic woman’s still missing. Her shop’s closed. She’s not at home, and Sonny would really like to find her.”

 

“Yeah, well, tell Sonny to get in line.”

 

“Sonny doesn’t wait in line. Why should he?”

 

“Because according to my ex-wife, the New Orleans Police Department and the FBI are looking for Raissa, too. My ex has already gotten the shakedown from all of them and told them the same thing she told me—no one knows where Raissa is.”

 

Rico frowned. “That’s very unfortunate.”

 

“Look, unfortunate or not, apparently the woman’s good at not being found. If the FBI can’t find her, my guess is Sonny’s not going to, either.”

 

Rico studied Hank for a couple of seconds. “Maybe your ex-wife knows more than she’s saying.”

 

Hank shook his head. “No way. If my ex knew anything, she would have told the cops or that new husband of hers, and he would have told the cops. She’s got some damned code of ethics that men like you and I simply wouldn’t understand. Raissa’s gone, Rico, and no one that cares about her knows where. My ex and her friends are frantic. They’re not faking.”

 

“Maybe not, but that would be unfortunate. You know, you not being able to find out and all.” Rico inclined his head toward the clinic. “All kinds of accidents happen on construction sites. Bad electrical wiring and such. Some of these places are known to just go up in flames. Least that’s what I hear.”

 

Hank clenched his hand into a fist and gritted his teeth, trying to control himself. Hitting Rico was a surefire way to bring down the house of cards. “That’s what insurance is for, I suppose,” Hank said, trying to sound as if he didn’t care.

 

“Yeah. Unless, of course, insurance thinks the guy building the clinic did it himself. I hear insurance fraud is a real problem for business owners.”

 

Hank felt his blood start to boil. He was going to blow it. He was going to throttle Rico Hebert to death right there in the street, and God help him, there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

 

“Hank.” Chuck’s voice sounded behind him.

 

Hank spun around and saw Chuck getting out of his truck just a few yards away from where he stood. It momentarily unnerved Hank that he’d been so focused on killing Rico that he hadn’t even heard Chuck’s truck pull up behind him. “Hi, Chuck.”

 

Chuck glanced over at Rico, and Hank could tell he didn’t like what he saw. “Is there a problem?” Chuck asked.

 

“No problem,” Rico said. “I was just asking for directions.” He nodded at Hank. “Thanks for the help.”

 

Hank watched as Rico jumped in his car and drove away, then turned to face Chuck. “Sorry about that. Guy was a little weird. I think he was hopped up on something.”

 

Chuck studied Hank’s face for a couple of seconds, and Hank could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. Finally, he nodded. “I just came by to drop off the rest of the front-office designs.” He handed a tube to Hank. “Might as well give them to you. It’s the front-desk layout and the ideas you came up with for furniture in the lobby. Great stuff, by the way.”

 

“Thanks. It’s hard to believe I actually get paid for this. This is fun.”

 

Chuck nodded. “Shows in your work, too. I tell you, it’s a rare person that finds they can make a living at something they love. You and me are lucky men, Hank.” He looked over at the clinic. “You done for the day?”

 

“Not quite yet. I have one more cabinet to stain. I wanted to get one coat on all of them today, so I can finish them tomorrow.”

 

Chuck clasped one hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the walk-through with Lila.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Hank said as Chuck walked to his truck and hopped inside.

 

Hank waved as Chuck pulled away from the curb, then crossed the street to the clinic. Maybe another hour and he’d be done for the eve ning. Then he could go home and figure out what the hell had motivated him to ask Lila on a date. If he couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation for canceling besides being scared, which wasn’t exactly something a man liked to admit, then he was going to have to call Maryse and ask for a restaurant recommendation. And what to wear. Jesus, dating was filled with difficulty.

 

He closed the front door to the clinic behind him and locked it just in case Rico was lurking anywhere nearby. He didn’t doubt the thug would plow right through a locked door if he really wanted what was on the other side, but at least Hank would hear him coming. He headed down the hall to the last room in the clinic. He’d been using that room to assemble and finish the cabinets, and his first masterpiece was resting in the center of the room, all stained except for the corner unit. He grabbed his can of stain and paintbrush and got to work on the cabinet facing.

 

Hank heard the intruder as soon as he entered the building. He probably thought he was being quiet, but the click of the front door lock releasing echoed straight through the silence of the clinic. Hank grabbed a screwdriver from his toolbox and slipped behind the row of cabinets he was working on. He paused one second, two seconds, trying to figure out where the person was, but there was only silence.

 

He edged away from the cabinets and pressed himself flat against the wall, then crept down the hall until he reached the doorway. He peered around, but the hallway was empty, and he couldn’t detect the sound of another person moving around inside the building at all. But he knew what he’d heard, and the hair standing up on the back of his neck told him he hadn’t been wrong. He was a lot of things, but fanciful wasn’t one of them.

 

For the first time in a long time, he wished he’d broken the law and bought a handgun. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but that had been a foolish thought. Battling whoever was out there with a screwdriver didn’t seem like the best option, but he couldn’t think of another one.

 

He waited a couple of seconds but didn’t see or hear a thing. Finally, he slipped out of the room and down the hall, careful to avoid stepping on anything that would give away his position. He peeked into each room as he passed, but they were empty. When he reached the lobby, he peered around the corner from the hallway and scanned the room. The door was shut, but he could see it was unlocked.

 

Had the intruder been a common thief, looking for construction-site tools? Maybe he’d left after hearing Hank in the back. That must be it. Hank crossed the lobby and opened the front door. The lawn and street in front of the clinic was empty, and the only cars on the street were those he’d seen earlier in the day. Absolutely nothing seemed out of place. Letting out a sigh of relief, he closed the door and locked it.

 

When he felt the sting of the needle, he immediately knew he’d grossly miscalculated.

 

The intruder must have been hiding behind the frame for the front desk, and whatever he’d been stuck with was making him woozy. Hank turned, trying to get a good look at his attacker, but the last thing he saw before crashing to the floor was two huge eyes and a bug-shaped face staring back at him.

 

 

 

 

Jana DeLeon's books