CHAPTER THREE
Miller and Angel laughed at the detective seated across from them. They’d been trying to explain to him how a chimpanzee happened to break the light on top of a patrol car. He wasn’t pissed about it, just curious.
“You know how Mama is,” laughed Miller. “She’s got all them animals out there, and the chimps are the most curious. Your man was out that way and left the lights rolling. The chimp was curious. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t hurt him.”
“No, but he scared the shit out of him. Literally. Boy had to go home and change his pants.” They all laughed, shaking their heads. “Look, just pay for the light to be replaced, and I’ll ignore all of this.”
“We appreciate it,” nodded Angel. They stood and stepped out into the main processing area. Seated along a wall was an elderly woman cuffed to a chair. She looked dirty, but not like the kind of dirty you would see for someone chronically homeless or a drug user or prostitute. “What did she do?”
“Stole food,” said the detective. “Fourth time for her, and I’m afraid she might go to jail if the store presses charges.”
“Fourth time? Hasn’t anyone bothered to ask her why she’s stealing food? I think it’s painfully obvious that she’s hungry,” growled Miller. The detective shrugged his shoulders as Angel walked over to the woman.
“Morning, ma’am.”
“Morning. Are you going to put me in jail?” she asked. Her eyes were red from crying, her fingernails caked with dirt.
“No, ma’am. I don’t work here, but I’d sure like to hear your story,” said Angel. Miller walked up and she stared at the two men. “We want to help.”
Miller made the detective uncuff her and walked toward the ladies’ room.
“Go on in and clean yourself up. I’m sure that will make you feel a bit better. I’ll wait out here.” She eyed the two men and nodded, grateful for the privacy of the clean bathroom. She realized just how awful she looked and nearly started crying again.
Using the paper towels and soap, she wiped her face, neck, hands, and arms, then attempted to straighten her hair. It was no use. It needed to be washed. When she stepped outside, they were waiting with a cup of coffee, a soda, two packs of peanut butter crackers, and an apple.
“Thank you,” she said, holding back the tears. Angel waved her toward a private office, where he closed the door. The smell of the old woman was nearly overpowering, but they both said nothing, just asking her to take a seat.
“The detective said you stole food,” said Angel.
“I did. Two loaves of bread, some potted meat, and a few apples. It was all I could carry.”
“That seems like a lot of food for one small woman. Where were you going?” asked Miller. She looked away from him, staring out the window. “Ma’am, we truly want to help, but we need to know where you were going with all that food.”
“To help my friends.”
“Other homeless people?”
“We’re not homeless! We were intentionally displaced, evicted, foreclosed on, whatever you want to call it. But we are not homeless.”
“Ma’am, if you don’t have a home to go to, you’re homeless. But as we said, we’d like to help with that if we can. We run a security and investigation company, and we take cases without charge all the time. This sure feels like something we’d like to look into.”
“You don’t know all the details,” she frowned. “According to the banks, mortgage companies, and damn insurance, it’s all legal.”
“Well, we’ve got one of the best legal teams in the country working with us. Why don’t you tell us what’s happening, and we’ll decide.”
“I want to, really I do, but my friends need food and medicine. I need to help them, and the longer I sit here, the more I’m gagging at the smell of myself, and I’m shocked you’re not gagging as well.” Angel chuckled, nodding.
“Alright, will you tell me where your friends are? We’ll get some vehicles down here and get everyone somewhere safe. You can shower, get fresh clothes, and a hot meal. No tricks. You can ask that detective out there. He knows us.”
“No tricks?” she asked, staring sideways at them.
“You have my word,” said Miller. “No tricks. Our mama would beat us senseless.”
“You’re brothers?”
“In every way that matters,” smiled Angel.
“Alright. But if you hurt any of them, I’ll hurt you.” Miller grinned at the older woman and nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, I believe you would.”
“How many are there?” asked Gaspar, watching as the elderly were helped into the Sugar Lodge.
“Thirty-three,” said Angel. “They were all living in a warehouse near the river. It was already starting to flood. Rats were crawling on the rafters. There was no heat, no air, no fans, nothing. Summer coming on, they would have died from the heat. They had everything they owned pushed up against one wall. We’re sending some boys back down to get all of it for them. Not sure it’s worth saving, but it’s theirs.”
“We’re going to get them showered, changed, and fed, and then we can talk to them.”
Gaspar watched as his mother and father spoke to each of the individuals. It didn’t matter that they were dirty and smelled. They held their hands, hugged them, helped them through the door, and showed them the way to the group showers.
“You didn’t lie,” said the old woman. “You’re really going to help us. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I try to never lie to a lady,” smiled Angel. “My wife would be pretty angry with me if I did. You go get cleaned up, and we’ll get the food ready for y’all. Mama Irene and the other wives have brought in some clean clothing for everyone. We’ll be here when you’re done.”
They watched as the people were led to the shower rooms, baskets of shower gel, shampoo, and other things handed to each one with a clean sweat suit and undergarments. For those who needed help, a man or woman would accompany them into the showers to be sure they were safe and didn’t fall. It was a lesson for all in humility and understanding that aging for others didn’t look anything like aging at Belle Fleur.
“What a fucking mess,” mumbled Nine. “How in the hell did all of this happen?”
“We’re not sure,” said Miller. “We found her on the verge of charges for stealing food for the fourth time and decided to speak with her. Damn glad we did. She didn’t say much other than they were all from the same neighborhood and had been friends for years.”
“That’s not worrisome, is it?”
“This makes me so grateful that we’re all here together. Mama and Pops sure knew what they were doing when they put all this together.”
Slowly, one by one, they began to emerge from the showers. They looked like different people, clean, hair combed, and their clothes unmarked. The dirty items were placed in one large bin where they would be washed and redistributed.
As they took their seats, they were greeted with trays of food on the table. Meats, fish, vegetables, fruits, salads, and fresh bread varieties. Iced tea, water, and other beverages were offered. At first, they were timid about taking anything from the trays, but when Nine sat down, smiling at them, and filled his plate, the other men did the same, immediately putting them all at ease.
“This is delicious,” said Otto. “I’ve never tasted anything so good in all my life.”
“Thank you,” nodded Irene. “We love to cook ‘round here. And we love to see folks enjoy our cookin’.”
“Is there any way we could get medication for those that need it? Some have been without it for too long,” said Annie.
“Ma’am, what’s your name?” asked Gaspar.
“Annie, and that’s my friend, Sarabeth,” she said, pointing across the table.
“I’m Gaspar. Gaspar Robicheaux and most of these men are related to me in one way or another. That’s my mama and pops, Matthew and Irene Robicheaux. We can get anything you need here. Who is sick?”
“All of us in some way,” she said, looking at the table. “High blood pressure, diabetes, pulmonary disease, all of it.”
Gaspar looked toward Wilson and Doc who nodded, standing at the end of the table.
“We’ll take a look at you one at a time,” said Doc. “We’re both former medics but also RNs. We’ve got one of our doctors coming over from the hospital as well. We’ll take care of whatever it is you folks need.”
She watched the two huge men as they gently took each person to a private, screened space and did an examination on them. Other than a few bug bites, scratches, and one case of head lice, they were all doing relatively well.
When Riley arrived, she did a thorough examination of each of the people, then prescribed their medications, which Cruz filled at their hospital pharmacy with Suzette and then brought to the lodge.
“Do you feel like telling us what happened?” asked Ian.
“Yes, sorry. We’re all just so grateful to be warm and dry. I think we’re sleepy and full,” she smiled.
“Take your time,” said Ghost. “Once we know what happened to all of you, we can make a plan to help, and then you can get some much-needed rest.”
“We all lived in the same neighborhood. It was small, just forty or forty-five homes, but we all bought around the same time and have lived there for years. A couple of years ago, we noticed that all of our mortgages were suddenly being sold to another mortgage company. That’s not strange, really, but it was strange that it was the same one. Since we all talk and share information, we also knew that they’d been encouraging us to switch insurance providers because it was cheaper.”
“All of you?” frowned Ian.
“Yes. We know now that it was stupid. Ellen and Jim were sent their renewal documents a few months back. It was a hundred and eleven pages of gibberish. They, um, their home was going to be foreclosed on, and so they decided to take matters into their own hands. There was a fire.”
“Ah, I see,” nodded Ghost. “And did the insurance company pay?”
“Twelve hundred dollars,” said Sarabeth. “The new plan didn’t pay for flooding, natural disasters, fires, almost nothing. They moved in with neighbors, and then the neighbors were foreclosed. It was like a domino effect.”
“Who is this mortgage and insurance company?” asked Ian.
“Midwest Mortgage and the insurance company is HomeRight,” said Annie. “They convinced everyone that taking a modified reverse mortgage was the way to go, except it wasn’t a reverse mortgage at all. It raised our interest rates by nearly double and continued to raise them on a monthly basis, and then the insurance problems started.”
“We’re all on fixed incomes, obviously,” said Sarabeth. “We’re retired and living on social security, some of us with small retirements, but we should have been just fine. Our places were small, maybe a thousand square feet or so. Two bedrooms, one bath, they were post-war cottages.”
“Oh, those were lovely old homes,” said Irene. “I used to walk by them when I would go down to the farmer’s market now and then.”
“Yes,” nodded the woman. “Some of our folks had gardens in their backyards and would sell any items they didn’t need. Joan, she used to quilt pillows. They sold real well, but folks now don’t appreciate that sort of thing.”
“I do,” nodded Irene. “I got quilts all over the house, and my children all have them too. I bet some of them were hers.”
“We all worked hard. All our lives,” said Annie. “I don’t want you to think we didn’t.”
“We never thought any such thing,” said Nine. “It’s obvious that you were all hard workers who were fighting for their homes.”
“We’ve got truck drivers and sanitation workers, teachers and daycare providers. Grace and Herb owned a little corner store, but it burned down two years ago. We always thought it was intentional, but the police said it was just an accident.”
“What did they tell you about the mortgages?” asked Jean. The women turned toward the deep, rumbling bass voice, staring at the handsome man.
“Oh, my,” giggled Sarabeth. Jean laughed, shaking his head. “Aren’t you about the most handsome thing ever? And now I see it! You’re all brothers. You, you, you, those three, oh goodness!”
“Yes, ma’am,” laughed Gaspar. “We are all brothers. My parents had fifteen children, nine boys, and we look alike. Our sisters are the prettier versions of us. All of these men are my brothers from the military.”
“I see,” nodded Clinton from his side of the table. “That’s making a whole lotta sense now.”
“The mortgages,” smiled Jean.
“When we all got the notices that the mortgages had been sold, we didn’t think much of it. It gets done from time to time,” said Jim. Jean nodded at him. That was true, at least. “Then we get the first payment notification, and it’s twenty to thirty percent higher. The interest rates were supposed to be locked in, but they’re telling us when it’s sold that doesn’t hold true any longer.”
“They lied,” said Jean.
“We figured that, but no one would help us. Before we knew it, the houses were being foreclosed on or sold, and the entire neighborhood was getting bulldozed. The park where our children played is gone, all of it. All the memories are gone, all the street fairs and garage sales and bake sales that the kids had. It’s all gone.”
“Why did they bulldoze the houses?” asked Ian.
“They want to build a bunch of modern townhomes, or at least that’s what they told us. Our neighborhood is close enough to the trendy spots but far enough away from the chaos of Bourbon Street. All these young folks with money and good jobs want to move in now. All these years in our little houses that no one wanted, and suddenly, it’s the place to be,” said Jim.
“Let us dig into this and see what we can find out,” said Gaspar.
“We can’t pay you,” said Jim.
“It’s alright. This is what we do,” said Nine. “You folks stay here for now. The small beds are comfortable and warm. The kitchen is fully stocked. You’ll be able to fix your own meals if you like. There are the showers, as you saw, and full laundry. If we need help with something, we’ll let you know. For now, just stay safe and healthy.”
“What’s in this for you?” asked Sarabeth. “I mean, people don’t usually help unless there’s something in it for themselves.”
“My mama not giving me dirty looks. That’s what’s in it for me,” smirked Gaspar. Sarabeth and Annie laughed, Jim nodding in his direction.
“Smart man.”
“Really, we do it because this is what we do,” said Gaspar. Matthew walked toward him, nodding for him to come to the side. “What’s up, Pops?”
“I made a call to Midwest Mortgage on the pretense of wanting to buy the mortgages. Charlotte looked up the value of the homes and the land for me. It wasn’t all that much, and the mortgages were nothing. Nearly paid for a year ago, now almost triple that amount.
“I offered them double the value, and they turned me down. They said they already had a buyer for the homes and the land. I said I’d double whatever they were paying.”
“What did they say to that?” asked Gaspar.
“They laughed at me,” frowned Matthew. “They laughed and said I didn’t have enough money to buy that land no matter who I was, and then they hung up on me. This ain’t about building condos, Gaspar. There’s something else happening here.”
“Shit.”