Free A Twisted Ladder by Rhodi Hawk

That man lives in a different world
.
    An idiotic thought because technically Madeleine herself was old money New Orleans. But she grew up in poverty; hadn’t been to charm school or gone sailing with the krewes. She had known nothing of her inheritance until college and had always found it hard to relate among the secretive inner circles.
    Who was she kidding? She found it hard to relate in any circles.
     

     
    ACROSS THE ROOM, MADELEINE saw Chloe’s houseboy moving toward her. His albinism made him look fragile, almost small and slender despite the truth of his average build. His coarse hair was yellow in contradiction to his African roots, and his broad nose and lips were also pale. But his eyes were not the trademark red or blue of an albino; they were brown.
    He gave a nod. “
Bonsoir, Mademoiselle
.”
    “Hello.”
    “
S’il vous plaît
, Miss Chloe would like to see you.”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.” And then Madeleine realized that like his mistress, he’d never offered it.
    “Oran,” he said, and then turned, leading her through the crowd.
    Madeleine shrugged and followed Oran to where Chloe sat in her wheelchair. “Hello Miss Chloe. I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”
    “You see Zenon?” Chloe said.
    Never much for chit-chat, that one
.
    The old woman coughed, a contraction of shoulders, then fixed her gaze on Madeleine again. “He told me about Marc Gilbert.”
    “Oh?” Madeleine said.
    “That Marc Gilbert had a young lady. You did not tell me this.”
    “What? Marc had a girlfriend?”
    Chloe nodded.
    “Well if Zenon told you that he’s wrong. Marc wasn’t dating anyone when he passed away.”
    The old woman stared at Madeleine for a long moment. “He is good for you to know, yanh?”
    “Who, Zenon?”
    Chloe nodded, lifting her clawlike hand toward the crowd. “These people, they are rabbits. You should talk to that boy Zenon. He is strong.”
    A flash in her mind of the strange interlude only moments ago, and Madeleine shivered. “Yeah, I know him. We grew up together. He still has a fishing cabin on Bayou Black. Look, since you seem to know so much, perhaps you can tell me where my father is.”
    Chloe shook her head.
    Madeleine said, “Then if you’ll excuse me.”
    Chloe grunted.
    As Madeleine meandered back through the crowd, it seemed folks were indeed talking about her father. Little snippets of conversation trickled through—whispers that ceased when people realized Madeleine was standing nearby—and it sounded like all of New Orleans had heard about what happened in D.C. She tried not to seethe.
    But Daddy Blank was not the only name on people’s lips. Madeleine also overheard buzz about Joe Whitney, a prominent criminal defense attorney and member of the Historic Preservation Society. He was also a longtime family acquaintance, though not always a welcome one.
    The gossip centered around a sprawling mega-mart slated for construction in one of New Orleans’s historic districts. Apparently Whitney had helped the mega-mart get the municipal zoning it needed to start construction, and people were furious.
    Madeleine spotted Ethan standing near the buffet surrounded by a group of sparkling young ladies. They all smiled and laughed, and Madeleine thought he seemed to belong there among them. A polished pendant in a string of pearls. Ethan Manderleigh was suited to
them
, she thought. Not to her and her crazy world.
    But as if in defiance to her thoughts, Ethan looked up and caught her eye. He smiled and shook his head. No sign of Daddy.
    One of the ladies followed his gaze, a green-eyed beauty who looked inquisitively toward Madeleine. Maddy nodded and smiled, and then she found Sam and strode for the safety of her company.
    Samantha was standing among a small group of preservationists who were elegantly coiffed and gilded in their finest. They were ranting about Joe Whitney as if he were the Antichrist, a tirade all-too-familiar to