Chapter 17

Bill Simon’s turn:

Life has to go on, somehow. Around 5:30 am I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I got up to start the coffee. Plugged the cell phone in to charge, trying to think of an ambulance-chasing lawyer to call. Or, perhaps, the nearest hog farm.

Haley walked into the kitchen with a grim expression. She hugged me and said, “Bill, I just took a picture of Deena’s face -- she already has black eyes and a lump on the side of her head. I sent it to Cindy and Jack Haggarty. I don’t know what they’ll come up with, but I’d like to see that asshole delicately, politely castrated at high noon, in front of the courthouse. A dull, rusty knife would be my preferred instrument.”

My phone buzzed with a text from Haggarty: “Expect a phone call from a local lawyer this afternoon. His name is Andre Thibodeaux, and he knows where ALL the bodies are buried.”

I showed Haley the text, and she grinned. Then HER phone buzzed with a text. She grinned again and showed it to me. It was from Cindy, and it said: “The dogs of war are loosed.”

I said, “Haley, that phrase seems somehow familiar. Can’t remember the exact quote.”

Haley said, “Bill, it’s Shakespeare, from his play “Julius Caesar.” The quote was from Marc Antony, where he said, “Cry ‘havoc’, and let slip the dogs of war.” Sounds like Cindy is even more pissed off than we are.”

Deena came walking into the kitchen in a robe, looking pretty rough. We hugged her and kissed her gently, and she sat down with a cup of coffee. She said, “Dad, believe it or not, I’m more pissed off at Mom and Harv than I am at Ethan. I would have been very happy to be with you and Haley, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She just HAD to have me with her this week, and then abandoned me at her first opportunity. This has to stop, NOW!”

Just then there was a knocking at the door, and stepping over to answer, I noted a police car parked outside. I opened the door to a uniformed policeman, who said, “Good morning, sir. I’m Jim Stannis, and I just stopped by to check on Deena. Is she available?”

I said, “Yes sir, she is, and my name is Bill Simon. Come on in and we’ll pour you some coffee.”

I led him to the kitchen for introductions all around. He got a fresh cup of coffee, and said, “Deena, you’re looking much better than I expected. I got a broken nose in football a few years ago, and I looked much worse the next day.”

“Now folks, I need to report to you a bit. Today is my last day on the force, because I’ve accepted a position as a Deputy Sheriff over in the next parish. I want to give you my business card, with my personal cell phone number on the back, in case your lawyer wants to give me a call.”

“I hope you’ll pursue this issue in court, and if you do, please be advised that I made a copy of the police report for last night’s event. Also. Deena, I’m pretty good friends with the nurse who worked on you last night. You may not recall that she cleaned your fingernails, and deposited some interesting skin scrapings in a sample bag. It’s in your medical file, intentionally mis-labeled, but it should respond nicely to any needed DNA analysis.”

“Now here’s the situation, folks. Your assailant is probably going to get off, even with the evidence we have. The reason is that his Daddy is politically connected. Briefly, he has the DA and the Police Chief in his pocket. So even if you demand that the DA pursue the charges, he’ll probably accept a plea-bargain down to something like “misdemeanor assault” and then “Studly” will receive probation, because he’s still a high-school student.”

Haley’s expression got ice-cold. She said, “Jim, we’re not letting this drop, and we’re not accepting a plea deal. This asshole has to pay.”

Jim grinned and said, “I agree, Haley. My thought is that you need to hit ‘em where it REALLY hurts -- Deena, I think you know a little about such things. And by the way, very informally I understand that you crushed at least half his family jewels -- GOOD job, girl!”

“Now, to hit ‘em where it REALLY hurts, you have to hit ‘em in the wallet. My advice would be to get some kind of personal injury lawyer -- a GOOD one. Sort of a pit bull with a briefcase, kind of lawyer.”

I said, “Jim, that’s good advice. Let me ask, have you ever heard of a guy named Andre Thibodeaux?”

He said, “WOW! Now THAT’S a serious pit bull! Jeez, Bill, you get THAT guy, you got the meanest junkyard dog in the state! And somehow, I think you just jumped ahead of me. I have to ask, how did you hear of him?”

I said, “Sir, it’s from a lawyer friend in Alabama. Andre is supposed to call this afternoon, but based on your evaluation, I do believe we’ll engage his services. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to get Deena back to the hospital for her medical follow-up.”

He said, “I understand, and I thank you for your time. Deena, a hug, please?” She stood and he hugged her lightly. He said, “Lady, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you. Keep the attitude you had last night, and you can do anything you desire!”

Much hand-shaking, and he left. I turned and said, “Ladies, I do believe a plan is in place. Now, if you’ll both get dressed, I’ll call Laney -- she wants to meet us at the doctor.”

They nodded, but neither of them was smiling. I called Laney and said, “Laney, we’re headed over to the doctor for the follow-up. I think Deena’s going to be OK, but she looks terrible -- you’ll see in a while.”

Arriving at the doctor’s office, no Laney. Deena noted her absence and said, “Dad, it’s Mom -- she’s probably still deciding on the right lip gloss or something.”

The Doc had a short interval immediately available, so we walked right into her office, where I introduced myself and Haley. She said, “Don’t call me “Doctor Lambert” -- my name is Shawna. Now Deena, hop up on the bed and let me examine your face a bit.”

After looking closely, prodding lightly, taking vitals, etc, Shawna said, “Much better than I expected, Deena. As your nose heals, the black eyes will fade. I’d expect about 2 weeks or so. I’d recommend that you stop the painkillers in favor of aspirin or Tylenol, maybe. And having heard a bit more about your story, I have to say I’m VERY proud of you, Deena.”

As we were leaving the hospital, we met Laney walking up to the front door. She hugged Deena briefly, then said, “Lord, Deena, I hope you feel better than you look! Would you like some help covering up the black eyes? I have some make-up that will help, and I know how to apply it.”

I felt Deena tense, so I gave her upper arm a light squeeze. She said, “Thanks for coming, Mom, and I appreciate the offer. Right now I feel tired and sore, so I just want to get back home and rest some more.”

Laney nodded and looked at me. She said, “Bill, some time tomorrow, we need to talk about how to prevent negative publicity -- Harv is worried.” Deena tensed again, I squeezed again. She stayed quiet, and I said, “Laney, we’ll talk. Right now, I need to take care of Deena.”

We walked on out to the SUV, and I said, “Haley, you drive -- I’m going to sit in the back with Deena.”

We got in the car, and barely got out of the parking lot before Deena exploded: “God DAMMIT, Dad! Mom still thinks I’m something like a Barbie doll! She thinks she can dress me up and show me off to all her “friends”, who aren’t friends at all! I am a WOMAN, and an ENGINEER! She thinks she can make all my decisions for me, and I’m SICK of it!”

Just then my phone buzzed with a text. I held up a finger, and looked at a message: “Andre Thibodeaux here. I need to call. Is now OK?”

I texted back: “OK”. To Deena I said, “I’ll bet this guy has a solution for you. Maybe more than one.” And the phone rang -- generic tone.

I punched the button and said, “Bill Simon here. Good morning.”

The response: “Andre Thibodeaux here, and based on a call by Jack Haggarty, I’d like to visit with you and Miss Deena, either at my office or at your home. Which is best for you, and what time?”

I said, “Andre, we’re headed home right now, and why don’t you come on out there after lunch. Do you know the address?”

He said, “Bill, I do, and I’ll be headed that way, probably be there about 1 pm. And do you have a dollar bill handy?”

I said, “We do, sir, and we’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. By the way, check the sky in both directions before you cross the runway.” He chuckled and clicked off.

I said, “Ladies, I do believe a certain junkyard dog is coming to our rescue.”

About 10 minutes later, another knocking-at-the-door. I opened it to find a skinny teen brunette, with puffy eyes. She said, “Sir, my name is Abby Basler. Can I talk to Deena? I need to thank her.”

“W-wait ... Basler ... You’re...”

“My brother’s in jail for...”

“Uh, is it even right for us to talk?”

“Let ‘er in, Dad,” Deena spoke from behind me. “She’s not the culprit here...”

“Oh, hi, Deena. We’ve met a couple of times in school,” Abby said softly. “D’ya mind talking with me?”

That hiss you just heard? That’s the sound of a whole new can of worms opening. Or ALL the toothpaste being squeezed out of the tube. Or an empty bag with a cat beside it.

I trust Deena’s judgment. She took Abby back into her room. The door closed. Twenty minutes. Crying, and I know it’s not Deena.

The two came out, found Haley and me in the kitchen.

“Can I fix you something to drink?” I asked.

“Ginger ale,” Deena said. “For both of us. I know we made a fresh batch.”