Bayou Justice (10 page)

“Really?” CoCo tried to imagine her grandparents in their younger years. She could see her grandmother's strong features. In her youth, she must have been quite attractive.

“Don't sound so surprised,
ma chère.
I turned a few heads in my time.” Grandmere laughed.

CoCo had never considered another man might have been interested in her grandmother. Just the thought…eww, CoCo didn't want to give herself a mental image to carry around. “I didn't mean any insult, Grandmere. I just never knew.”

“No reason for you to. I never batted so much as an eyelash at Justin Trahan.” She reached into the bowl of beads again. “Even if I hadn't been so in love with Marcel, I would never have gotten involved with Justin. Even then, Beau had his family under his thumb.”

Thinking back to the reaction Justin had given her yesterday, CoCo couldn't imagine such. “Justin seems to have outgrown that.”

“Oh, no,
ma chère.
Make no mistake, Beau Trahan kept a stronghold over his family. Why, I remember a time when he threatened Justin. Told him that if he and Marcel didn't stop hunting together, he'd tighten all the Trahan purse strings.”

“Really?”

“I don't know why he didn't like his brother being friends with my Marcel.” Grandmere slipped a gold bead onto the twine. “I think he realized the LeBlancs were a threat to him and his popularity. Back then, his political aspirations were just forming. The LeBlancs weren't as affluent and well-to-do as the Trahans.” She paused, running a gnarled finger over her bottom lip. “Now that I think about it, that could be the reason why Justin and Marcel went their separate ways.”

How had she never known any of this? CoCo passed another gold-plated bead to her grandmother. The shine caught her attention. And reminded her of…what?

Grandmere tied off the bead. “You know,
ma chère,
I've noticed you've got that sappy look again.”

She jerked her attention back to her grandmother. “What?”

“That look in your eyes. Same one from when you were wrapped up in Luc Trahan.” Grandmere made another loop on the dream catcher. “You've been spending quite a bit of time with him.” She clucked her tongue. “I'd hate to see you hurt again. Once a man breaks your trust, you can never fully recover it.”

CoCo dropped her gaze to the dream catcher. “I'd rather not discuss it.” As if she'd talk about her love life with her grandmother…. That was just wrong.

The bead drew her gaze again. Round and shiny. The Confederate coin—that's what it reminded her of.

“I'm here if you decide you want to talk,
ma chère.
”

“
Merci.
I'll keep that in mind.” CoCo jumped up. “I have an errand to run, Grandmere. Do you need anything from town?”

“You sure you should be going out in this weather?” Her grandmother glanced to the window. “Looks pretty nasty out there. Some of the spirits are angry.”

“I'll be fine.” CoCo yanked her keys off the peg by the door, refusing to get into the constant debate. “I'll be back in a few hours. Tell Tara to call me on my cell if you think of anything you need.” Without waiting for a reply, she rushed to her bedroom and grabbed the coin. She flashed her grandmother a quick smile as she darted out the door.

Rain smacked against her bent head and shoulders as she ran to the Jeep. She glanced up to the sky as she started the ignition. Dark clouds hovered over the bayou. Maybe Grandmere was right—maybe she should wait until the storm passed.

The small treasure felt cold in her palm. No, she'd go ahead. When the storm passed, she could be out on the bayou again. She cranked the Jeep, then set the coin in the console.

She'd no more gotten out of the driveway when her phone rang. Jerking it up, she flipped it open. “Hello.”

“CoCo.” Luc always did say her name with a caress.

The memory of what Tara had told her last night banished her fantasy. Do. Not. Trust. Luc. Trahan.

“What do you want, Luc?” She hoped he picked up on her snarkiness.

“I just left Grandfather's penthouse with the sheriff. Found out something interesting. Since we're working together, I thought you'd want to know.”

“Are we?” She braked at the end of the road, staring through the rain coming down in sheets.

“Are we what?”

“Working together. You know, since I found the gun, you've acted like you suspected me of putting it back in the bayou.”

He let out a slow sigh. “No, I don't suspect you. ”A pregnant paused filled the connection before he spoke again. “Look, I'd like to share this information with you. Your grandmother said you'd left to run errands. Can I meet you somewhere?”

For just a split second, she considered telling him about the coin. Then logic swooped in. She couldn't trust him, but she did want to know what he'd discovered. “I should be done in less than an hour.”

“Would you like to meet at the diner or something?”

“That sounds fine.” Although she'd probably regret it, she needed to see him. She'd blame it on curiosity as to what they found at Beau's place, but her heart had other ideas.

“Be careful in the rain.”

He didn't have the right to care about her anymore. Or make her think he cared. She shut the phone and dropped it back into the console. It clanked against the coin. The whole trip to the appraiser was probably just a wild-goose chase.

But what if it wasn't?

C
oCo watched the appraiser, Billy Monahan, run a series of tests. The longer he inspected, the more she wished she hadn't bothered. The coin couldn't be authentic.

She rubbed her bare arms. The air conditioner sure worked great in this business. If this took much longer, she'd have to grab her jacket from the Jeep.

“Where'd you say you found this?” Billy laid the coin on a velvet pad sitting on the counter.

“In my yard.” She touched the edge of the metal. It felt cold. Or maybe it was just the blast of air coming from the vent above.

“Hmm.” He adjusted the light to shine more directly. “This is the second one of these I've seen this month.”

Her hopes crashed to her feet. “Really?”

“I'm going to tell you the same thing I told the gentleman.” He lifted his gaze from the coin to stare into her face. “Let me give you a little history, if you'll bear with me.” He took off his bifocal glasses and set them on the counter. His bald head shone under the fluorescent lights. “At the New Orleans Mint, they made half-dollar coins with a Union obverse and a Confederate reverse. These are very rare, and worth quite a bit of money.”

“Why would the Confederacy use a Union obverse on their coins?”

Billy shrugged. “According to history, in early 1861, Jefferson Davis, then President of the Confederacy, authorized production of a Confederate Half Dollar. They took an ordinary half dollar with the Liberty on the obverse, removed the reverse motif and added a shield with seven stars representing the only seven states that had joined by that time and adding Confederate States of America—Half Dollar. Only four were made.”

“But if only four were made…”

“Let me continue. In 1879, a man named Scott came into possession of the original reverse die. He obtained several 1861 USA half dollars and removed the reverses, then stamped them with the Confederate die. These are known as restrikes or Scott restrikes, and while not as valuable as the originals, they're still worth a considerable amount of money.”

“O-kay.” Bless his heart, he was trying to break it to her gently that hers was nothing more than a dollar-store replica.

“I'm talking quite a bit of money, even for one coin.” He peered at her and perched his glasses back on his hawk nose.

“How much?” It couldn't hurt to know, at least.

Billy hedged a moment, flipping through pages in a magazine. “According to the listings in my catalog, and the sources are based on supply and demand and what current offers have been, these restrikes are valued at $5,000 in uncirculated condition.”

Wow, she'd no idea. No wonder Billy ran all those tests. He had to tell her he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn't real. She felt sorry for him—he said he'd had to do it recently for someone else, too.

“And all metal currency made from dies 1861 and later are genuine Confederate coins.”

She glanced down at her coin—1862. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch as she glanced back at Billy.
It couldn't be.

“The restrike coin can be identified by an imperfection in America between the letters
E
and
R.
”

Once more her eyes dropped to the velvet pad. She squinted, but couldn't see any irregularities. Billy pushed the velvet pad to an angle where the light hit it just right.

Just enough to see the imperfection.

Her heart pounded as she lifted her stare, not trusting herself to speak.

Billy laughed. “That's right, Ms. LeBlanc. You own a genuine restrike coin of the Confederacy.”

Words trapped in her throat.

“As I told the other client, I would highly recommend you put this in a safety deposit box or in another very safe and secure place.”

She nodded and chewed her bottom lip. Finally, her vocal chords unwound themselves from around the lump. “How much do you think this particular one's worth?”

He studied the coin again. “It appears to be uncirculated.” He paused for a moment. “I'd say you'd get about five grand, give or take a hundred or so.”

“Oh, my.”

“Let me get you something to put it in.” Billy reached under the counter. “You say you found this in your yard?” He passed her a small acrylic case.

“Yeah, under a rosebush.”

He nestled the coin in the plush velvet. “Is your house old?”

She nodded. “I really couldn't say how old it is.”

“The reason I ask is that lots of people during the Civil War buried their money and silver, or hid it within their houses to keep the invading Yankees from getting their hands on it.” He closed the lid to the case. “And that gentleman I told you about said he found his around a pre-Civil War home as well.”

She took the case, holding it tight. “So, you think there could be more?”

“If your house dates back to pre-Civil War and you uncovered this coin due to erosion and such, I'd say start combing your property.”

“Wow.”

“Now, would you like to hear a local legend?”

“Sure.”

“We know the Klan was created after the end of the Civil war, originally to protect women from carpetbaggers, yes?”

CoCo nodded.

“Well, local legend says that when the Klan formed in the bayou area, they stockpiled these particular restrike coins.”

“Whatever for?”

“Rumor has it that they believed the South would rise again and these coins would become quite valuable when that happened.”

“Very interesting.”

“Just think, you could have found part of a stockpile of the Klan's coins.”

She didn't believe that possible.

Billy laughed and took off his glasses again. He nodded toward the door. “Too bad it's coming down like cats and dogs. I imagine you'll want to have a treasure hunt in your yard.”

“Merci.”
She laughed. “What do I owe you for the appraisal?”

“Twenty-five.”

After paying Billy and offering her sincere thanks, CoCo rushed to the Jeep. She felt like a drowned river rat. A quick glance in her rearview mirror confirmed she looked as bad as imagined. She cranked the engine and let it idle. The news hadn't sunk in yet. A real Confederate coin. But linked to the Klan? Not in
her
yard.

She tapped her front tooth with her nail. What to do now? Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the case and pulled it out to sit in her lap. Such a little thing, but worth so much money. Worth so much, and she needed any money she could get until she knew whether or not she'd get her grant. Billy was right—she must get it to a safe place.

CoCo steered toward the closest bank. She'd get a safety deposit box as Billy had suggested. As she dodged fat raindrops on her trek into the bank, she nearly slipped on the muddy concrete. She'd conclude her business as soon as possible, then go meet Luc. Her pulse hiccupped. She couldn't trust Luc with this information. Besides, they'd only agreed to work together to find his grandfather's murderer. She didn't owe him anything more. This coin had nothing to do with Beau Trahan being shot.

If anything, the past few years had enhanced CoCo's natural beauty. There was something different, something almost pure about her. Luc couldn't help but stare as she waltzed into the diner. He shoved to his feet as she approached the table.

“Sorry I'm a little late,” she gushed as she slid across the table from him, shaking off raindrops.

She was worth the wait. “That's okay.” He sat and smiled. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I'd kill for a cup of coffee.”

Bad choice of words. He lifted his cup at the waitress, and shot CoCo a look. “Did you get your errand run?”

She pressed her lips together. “Um-muh.”

He waited, but she didn't elaborate. What errand was so important that she'd gone out in this horrid weather?

The waitress filled their cups with steaming coffee, asked if they wanted to order, then rushed away.

“You said you found something new?” she prompted him.

“This morning, Uncle Justin and I went with Bubba to Grandfather's penthouse.”

“And?”

Luc considered stalling for a few more moments, just so she'd keep staring at him with such intrigue. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew her well, and knew she sorely lacked in the patience department. “We found his checkbook.”

She cocked her head.

He took a swig of the hot coffee. “The register reflected a check made out for fifty-thousand dollars to Felicia's boyfriend.”

“Oh.” CoCo took a sip of coffee. “What does this mean?”

“It means that the sheriff is going to question Frank.”

“What's your take?”

He rubbed his thumb over the cup's handle. “Bubba's thinking it might be blackmail.”

“What do you think?”

“I can't imagine Felicia being involved with someone who'd dare to try and blackmail Grandfather.”

“Mmm.”

“What?”

Darkness held her eyes as close as the night. “People can surprise you.” The icy look she tossed hit him square in the chest.

Touché. “Maybe so.” He felt as low as the scum growing on the pond. “CoCo.”

She took a long pull on her coffee, then stood. “Don't, Luc. Just don't.”

He rose to his feet. “But…”

“Let it go. It's over and done with.” She tugged her purse strap over her shoulder. “Maybe joining forces wasn't the smartest idea.”

Before he could argue, she was out the door to the diner.

Over and done with? He wished someone would send that memo to his heart.

Luc hung up his slicker and headed toward the kitchen, following the enticing aroma of crawfish bisque carried on the waves of laughter. He turned into the room and paused, drinking in the sight of his family laughing. His mother— looking sober, thank goodness—ladled bisque into bowls at the table, while Felicia giggled as she passed a glass of iced tea to Frank.

Home. How long had it been since they'd all joked and ate together? Had Grandfather really kept them so tightly wound that they couldn't relax, even amongst themselves? He dropped into a chair. “Got some for me, Mom?”

“Of course, Luc.” She reached to the counter and grabbed another bowl. “It's nice to have you with us for lunch.”

Just pack his bags for the guilt trip. Yet, she had a point. He'd deliberately had working lunches to save himself the drive home. Now, seeing his sister's face lit up like the stars over the bayou, he regretted his decision.
Lord, forgive me for being so selfish.

“Here you go.” His mother handed him a bowl.

His stomach rumbled. “Smells wonderful,
merci.
”

“It tastes perfect, Mom.” Felicia slipped another spoonful into her mouth.

Frank nodded and swallowed. “It's wonderful, Mrs. LeBlanc.”

“How you do go on,” Luc's mother said.

An abrupt knock on the door brought up their heads. Luc shoved back his chair and stood. “I'll get it.”

He opened the door to stare into the face of Sheriff Bubba Theriot. “Bubba, what brings you by in this nasty weather?”

“I told Sammy a deputy would help box up Beau's things and send them here.”

“That's fine. Surely you didn't drive over here in this mess to tell me that?”

“I went by to talk to Frank Thibodeaux, but his roommate said he was out. Thought he might be here.” Bubba dusted raindrops off his shoulders.

“Can this wait until later? I'd rather not do this in front of Felicia.”

“I don't think there's much point in drawing this out any longer.” Bubba wiped his boots on the welcome rug. “The sooner I get some answers, the quicker I can solve this case.”

Luc sighed, but opened the door wide to let the sheriff enter. “Let me go get Frank.” His steps were heavy as he trudged to the kitchen. The laughter continued.

His mother smiled. “Who is it, Luc?”

“Frank, can I see you in the living room for a minute, please?” He fought to keep his expression neutral.

“What?” Felicia pushed her wheelchair from the table. “Luc?” Her eyes repeated the question.

“Bubba's here and wants to ask Frank a couple of questions.”

“What about?” Felicia grabbed her boyfriend's hand, her gaze never leaving Luc's face.

He struggled with how much information to share with his sister. He let out a long sigh. “I think Bubba would be the best person to answer that.”