Lousiana Hotshot

Do it. Marilyn, bring her the phone.”
    Mrs. Bergeron left, and Talba kept talking. “Mr. Bergeron, I’m really sorry about what happened to Rhonda. I’d like to help you, but I need you to…”
    He spit on her. “Don’t you mention my daughter’s name.”
    Talba was still trying to assimilate the fact that she was standing there with saliva on her face when Bergeron spoke again. “Nigger.”
    Talba jumped back and hit the wall again, revolted beyond anything she’d ever experienced, though whether at Bergeron or his saliva she couldn’t have said. It was pretty much a toss-up.
    Her anger was starting to come up, which, in this circumstance, might be more dangerous than the turtle response. The man was a racist who’d probably see anything she said as an excuse to hit her. She had to keep calm. “Mr. Bergeron, let me leave, please.”
    “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
    Even in her fear, Talba almost laughed. The man had seen too many movies. She said, “I need to go now, please.”
    Marilyn Bergeron returned with a cordless phone. He took it. “Force your way in here, like that… I’m gon’ call the police on ya.”
    Talba could feel her shoulders lower an inch or two.
Call them! Tell them I’m the reincarnation of Bonnie Barrow. Say I shot down Amelia Earhart and killed Jimmy Hoffa. Just call them, please.
Eddie would kill her, but it was better than being killed by Lloyd Bergeron.
    “Give me that phone, Marilyn.” He grabbed it out of her hand and turned back to Talba. “I’m callin’ the police.”
    His wife said, “Lloyd, for God’s sake.”
    But he focused on Talba. “What you think if I called the police?” Talba was quiet. “Huh, nigger? What you think?” He kicked her, barking her shin, but once more she didn’t respond. “Answer me!”
    “Do what you have to do, Mr. Bergeron.”
    It was the wrong answer. He threw the phone across the room and looked straight at her, yelling so loud she thought the windows would break. “That was my daughter in her coffin the other day!”
    Something had happened to him, something Talba had never seen before. Before her eyes, he’d grown a good three feet, and his eyes had somehow assumed the size of personal pizzas, red and flaming behind the glasses, which only served to magnify them. His breath was a dragon’s and his voice a hammer, pounding at her. “That was my daughter! That was
my daughter!”
    He took a step toward her. “What the fuck do you mean comin’ in my house like this?”
    Talba turned and ran, flat-out pounded through the house hoping to hell she’d get to a door. There was a long hall, and then, blessedly, a kitchen, and— yes!— a back door.
    Bergeron was following. She shrieked, “You’re scaring the shit out of me!” and it was true, but she realized later he wasn’t exactly trying to catch her. In fact, if he had a purpose at all, it was probably scaring the shit out of her, but more likely he’d just lost it. And no telling where it was going to lead, once started.
    The door had a button lock on it, which slowed her down not at all. She was out in a trice, and down the three steps to the side of the house. Outside, she felt secure enough to slow down a bit— she could be heard if she yelled for help, though actually, she’d prefer a quiet to a noisy exit.
    However, no such luck. Bergeron stood on the stoop and hollered after her, continuing till she was out of earshot and for all she knew, long after. “This is
my
house.
My
fuckin’ daughter! Who do you think you are?”
    She was in her car with the door locked before she understood just how unnerved she was. She was clammy all over, heart racing, limbs weak. Her hands were shaking badly.
    Adrenaline,
she thought.
It’s the fight-or-flight response. Guess I’m a flyer.
    She felt badly disoriented— figured it must be part of the same thing.
    She breathed from her belly until she felt calm enough to turn on the ignition, and, as she drove back, worked on what she was going to tell Eddie. That wasn’t too hard: everything, probably. She’d just have to hope he wouldn’t be too sarcastic.
    That is, if she was still working for him, and if he ever spoke to her again. In either case, she still had to tell him she’d called on the Bergerons, because she’d learned one important fact— Pamela was missing.
    She called the office but got no answer. Eileen must not have gotten brave enough to reenter. Talba didn’t see why she should be the