Bayou Justice (11 page)

“Well,
allons
then.” She shifted her gaze to Frank's face. “Frank?”

“I can't imagine.”

“Why don't we all go into the living room? I'll make some coffee.” His mother moved to clear the table. “Y'all go on ahead, and I'll be right along.”

Luc led the way to where Bubba sat on the couch. The sheriff jumped to his feet as they entered. “Frank Thibodeaux?”

“Yes, sir?” He didn't let loose of Felicia's hand.

“I have a couple of questions for you.”

“In regards to what?” A sheen of perspiration glistened on Frank's forehead.

Bubba pulled out his notebook and pen. “We found a checkbook register at Beau Trahan's that reflects a check written to you on this past Tuesday.”

“A check to me?” Frank's eyes went wide.

“A check in the amount of fifty-thousand dollars.”

Luc couldn't tell who gasped louder, Frank or Felicia. Then silence fell over the room.

“Can you explain, Mr. Thibodeaux?” Bubba held the pen over the notebook.

Frank glanced at Felicia and dropped into the chair. Felicia rolled her wheelchair beside him. “Frank?”

“Aw, 'Licia, I never wanted you to find out. Especially not like this.”

Luc sank onto the couch. Was he about to witness a confession? He noticed Bubba stared at the couple. The lawman knew when to keep his mouth shut and merely observe.

“Frank?” Felicia's voice cracked.

He raked a hand over his face. “Remember I told you that your grandfather had come to see me?”

She nodded, but tears shone in her eyes.

“The threats came after I tore up the check he offered me. The payoff to break things off with you.”

Felicia sniffed, pressing a hand to her mouth. Luc's heart ripped at the pain in her expression. He fought against every fiber in his being screaming at him to go to her. This was one time big brother couldn't make it all go away. Grandfather's underhandedness knew no boundaries.

“You tore it up, right? You didn't cash it.” Her eyes held such hope.

“Of course not! I would never take a payoff to leave you.” He took her hand in his. “I love you, 'Licia.”

“Oh, Frank.” Tears streamed from her eyes.

Bubba cleared his throat. “Why don't you walk me through yours and Mr. Trahan's conversations?”

Frank turned back to the sheriff. “Felicia's grandfather came to see me Monday or Tuesday. At work. Said he had a business proposition for me.”

“And?” Bubba wrote in his notebook.

Luc sat on the edge of his seat.

“He said he didn't want me breaking his granddaughter's heart. Accused me of pretending to be interested in Felicia only to get some money out of him.” Frank jerked his stare to her. “Which wasn't ever a factor in my attraction to you. You're the sweetest, most gentle woman I've ever met. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I—”

“What did you tell Mr. Trahan?” Bubba interrupted.

“I told him I loved her.” He cut his eyes to Felicia. “Which I do.” Frank nodded at Bubba. “He offered me that check. Told me to think it over and tucked it in my pocket.”

“Uh-huh.” Bubba hiked his brows. “Then what?”

“I tried to give the check back right then and there, but he wouldn't take it.” Frank turned pleading eyes to Felicia. “He drove off in that Cadillac of his. Just left me standing in the dirt.”

Felicia's expression softened.

“What'd you do?” Bubba brought the conversation back to the subject at hand.

“The next day, I went to see Mr. Trahan. I told him I wasn't interested in any of his money.” His voice dropped a decibel. “I was only interested in his granddaughter.” His eyes met Felicia's. “Still am.”

“Mr. Thibodeaux, what happened then?”

“Mr. Trahan's the hardest-hearted man I've ever met. He wouldn't listen when I told him I wanted to spend my life with her.” He shook his head. “He kept calling me a gold digger.” His hands trembled.

“What'd you do?” Bubba stopped writing and studied Frank.

Frank ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “I got so mad. I yelled and hollered at him. Raised my fist to him. Said things I shouldn't have.”

“Such as?” The words slipped out before Luc could swallow them back.

Bubba tossed him a glare.

“I told him I didn't want his money and neither would 'Licia.” He spun to face Felicia. “I'm sorry I put words in your mouth, baby. I just couldn't take his accusations anymore. It just popped out of my mouth.”

Luc could relate.

“What did you do?” Bubba's expression reflected he was clearly tired of the side trips in the conversation.

“I ripped the check up and dropped it on the floor at his feet. That's when he told me he'd ruin me financially.” Anger etched deep into his face. “Told me I wouldn't be able to find a job to support 'Licia.”

Luc shifted on the couch. Frank's story hit a little too close to home.

“What did you do?” The sheriff spoke between clenched teeth. Clearly, his patience had worn out.

“I told him that I'd take 'Licia and he'd never see her again.” His voice grew thick and he turned to Felicia. “I'm so sorry, baby. I spoke in anger. Please forgive me.”

Felicia laid a hand against his cheek. “There's nothing to forgive. You love me that much?”

Even Luc's hardened heart couldn't deny the love on their faces. He glanced at Bubba. The scrawny redhead pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “Then what happened?”

Frank stared at the sheriff, glassy-eyed. “I think I shocked him. I didn't give him a chance to think about it—I just left. Never heard from him after that.”

Southerners loved their history.

CoCo sat in the library, staring at the umpteenth book portraying the Confederate side of the Civil War. While she now had all the historical facts on the war, she had found very little about coins of the Confederacy. Only two books out of the twelve she'd pulled reflected specific information on the mints of the Confederacy. She slammed the last book shut and pushed it to the center of the table.

This was getting her nowhere. Nothing in any of the books would tell her how those coins wound up in her yard. But she did know someone who might be able to shed some light on the situation.

CoCo grabbed the printout of her grant proposal, which she'd finished before she'd started her research. She carefully folded it and put it inside a large envelope, whispering up a prayer. She simply had to get the funding. Had to.

W
hen it rained, it poured. And in South Louisiana, all the dirt turned to mud.

Luc pulled up to the mailbox after seeing Frank safely back to his house. The family had spent the afternoon assuring Frank they held no animosity toward him for his harsh words against Beau. Who could blame him? Dusk had crept up on them, so Luc had followed Frank home to ensure his little car didn't get stuck on the dirt roads. Good thing he'd bought the four-wheel drive last year.

The torrential rains continued to beat down, soaking Luc to the skin as he retrieved the mail through the window. He parked the vehicle, then ran to the porch, gripping the mail. Luc stomped his feet and shook the rain from his shoulders before entering the house. If he tracked mud on the entry rug, his mother would have a conniption. She'd complain about the water anyway.

“Luc, is that you? I hope you wiped your feet,” his mother yelled from the kitchen.

Smiling, he shook his head and dropped the mail on the sideboard. Some things were simply a foregone conclusion. His mother's dramatics being one. “I did.”

“Good. Supper's almost ready.” She hummed an old tune.

He sniffed—cayenne pepper and okra permeated the air in an enticing aroma. Gumbo, one of his favorite meals. His stomach rumbled, so he headed to the kitchen to see if he could swipe a quick taste.

His mother wore an old apron over a housedress. Lipstick tinted her lips, and a little smudge of flour decorated the tip of her nose. He narrowed his eyes and went over for a quick hug. He couldn't detect any telltale stench of liquor.

Pulling back, she looked into his eyes. “What was that for?”

“It's just nice to see you so content.” He shifted his weight, guilt pressing against his chest as he swallowed back his suspicion of her being tipsy. He planted a peck on her cheek. “Besides, when did it become against the law to appreciate one's mother?”

She smiled, lighting up the whole room, despite the approaching night outside. “You're a sweet boy, Luc Trahan.” She laid a hand against his cheek for a brief moment before turning back to the stove. “That nice man from the casino called.” “Oh?”

“He said he'd have your grandfather's personal belongings sent over sometime tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a spoon. “This smells divine.”

“Ah, so that's it. You buttered me up so you'd get a taste.” She shook her head.

He dipped the spoon into the creamy sauce, blowing on it before sliding it into his mouth. His tastebuds exploded, and he sighed his appreciation. “Nobody cooks as good as you do, Mom. This is amazing.”

“Beau's lawyer called while you were out.”

That stopped his enjoyment. “And?”

“He said he's been in touch with Justin and that he'll need all the family to meet after the funeral—for the reading of Beau's will.”

“Oh. I hadn't really thought about that.” Truthfully, his mother would need some income since she'd never worked a day in her life. Maybe they could sell the house and split the profit. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the questions and uncertainty. He reached toward the pot again.

His mother swatted his hand, but the blush spread across her face. “Flatterer. Now get, so I can finish.”

Luc chuckled as he dropped the spoon into the sink and headed back to the living room. Now his stomach really growled. Had lunch only been four hours ago? He grabbed the mail off the sideboard, then plopped onto the recliner. The old leather groaned when he lifted the footrest. He flipped through the envelopes.

Sales flyers, grocery ads…all addressed to the occupant. He tossed them into the trash can beside the chair. Four envelopes with the return address of medical facilities. Bills for Felicia's treatments. How would he be able to continue paying for her medical attention? He set the bills in another stack on the table before continuing to go through the stack.

A handwritten envelope addressed to Beau Trahan from Dwayne Williams.

He ran his finger over the return address. A raindrop had smudged the ink, but the writing was still legible. His heart quickened. Why would CoCo's lawyer be writing his grandfather? He took in a gulp of air and slipped his finger under the envelope's flap. The ripping sound echoed.

Luc withdrew the single piece of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. He took a deep breath, then let his gaze scan the single paragraph.

Finding it hard to breathe, Luc blinked furiously. He stuffed the letter back into the envelope and shoved it in his jeans pocket, then pushed to his feet, lowering the footrest with a loud pop. He snatched his keys off the buffet and hollered, “Mom, I've got to run a quick errand. I'll be back later.”

His mother peeked around the open doorway. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes widening. “Is everything okay?”

“I don't know. I need to find Bubba.”

The concern blinked in her eyes. He planted a kiss to her forehead. “Don't worry, it's probably nothing. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Not giving her a chance to ask for further explanation, Luc turned and rushed out the door.

Rain pelted down, causing visibility to be nil in the early evening. He should have grabbed a baseball cap. He turned to the door and heard Felicia's voice blending with his mother's. If he went back inside, he'd just have to answer more questions. Ones he didn't feel up to answering right now. He sprinted for his vehicle.

Luc headed toward the sheriff's office, taking a quick glance at the digital clock—5:46. He hoped Bubba would be working a little later than usual. He didn't relish the thought of having to drive clean out to the other side of the bayou if the sheriff had already gone for the day. He touched his jeans pocket—the folded envelope rustled. Why did he feel the need to reassure himself?

The pounding rain made the drive longer than normal, but Luc managed to make it to the station inside of thirty minutes. Sure enough, Bubba's cruiser sat parked out front. Luc rushed under the awning. He took a moment to catch his breath before jerking open the door.

“Why, Luc Trahan, what brings you by this time of the evening and in such nasty weather?” asked Missy, the town's dispatcher. She fluffed her platinum curls and batted her eyelashes. She actually batted them.

“Is Bubba still around?” Dumb question since his car was parked outside. Women coming on so strong always made him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, since he and CoCo had broken up, half the women in town seemed determined to change his single status. Now, with Beau dead…the Trahan fortune had to be willed to somebody.

“Sure, I'll tell him you're here.” She flashed him a big smile and lifted the intercom receiver. “Sheriff, Luc Trahan is here to see you.” She nodded and hung up the phone. “He'll be right out.” She popped her gum as she continued to stare and smile.

The popping grated on his nerves.

“How's your momma and Felicia?”

“Fine. Good, considering.” Maybe if he didn't look at her she'd go back to doing whatever it was she'd been doing when he'd entered.

“I'm so sorry for your loss.” No such luck. She would continue talking to him until she turned blue in the face.

Fate smiled upon him. Bubba ambled up behind Missy. “Luc. What're you doing here?”

Luc sprung to his feet. “I have something to show you.” He glanced into Missy's interested eyes, then back to Bubba. “Can we go in your office?”

“Sure.” Bubba pushed the swinging door to let him behind the counter.

Following the sheriff, Luc felt Missy's eyes burning into his back. Now she would be more than interested, she'd be downright curious about what he had to show Bubba. Someone else speculating—just what he didn't need.

“Have a seat.” Bubba waved toward a wooden chair in front of his desk and then plopped down in his own. “What's so important you got out in this weather to show me?”

Luc took a deep breath before pulling out the crumpled envelope. He pushed it across the desk. “This came in the mail today.”

Bubba's eyes widened, and he lifted the envelope. “You opened this?”

“Yeah. I was curious why CoCo's lawyer would be sending Grandfather anything.” He inched to the edge of the chair. “The return address isn't his law firm's, it's his personal one.”

“I see.” Bubba pulled out the letter. His eyes darted back and forth as he read. He set the letter down and peered at Luc. “This definitely throws another twist into an already messy case.”

Luc swallowed. “I know. It does bear looking into, right?”

“Most definitely.” He leaned back in the chair. “I'll pay Mr. Williams a visit first thing in the morning.”

“Can I go?” Excitement pushed Luc's leg to bounce.

“It's official police business, Luc. You can't go. You're the grandson of the victim.”

“I rea—”

Bubba held up his hand. “I know. I promise if I find anything, I'll call you.” His gaze raked over Luc. “That's the best I can do.”

“Okay.” He pushed to his feet, the excitement drained from his limbs. It'd been another long day. “I'll wait to hear from you.”

“I'll let you know what I can, as soon as I can.” Bubba moved around the desk and clapped Luc's back. “Hang in there, buddy. We'll find who killed Beau and see that justice is served.”

The intensity of the rain had decreased. Luc strode to his vehicle, then sat behind the wheel, trying to organize his thoughts. The security lights outside the police station blinked. Through the rain, they cast prisms of light across the windshield. Like a spell. Luc swallowed. Would everything remind him of CoCo?

He started the ignition and pointed the SUV toward the LeBlanc's place. No matter what Bubba found out tomorrow, CoCo had a right to know her lawyer could be involved in his grandfather's murder. Luc didn't want to wait to tell her.

As he headed down her street, he couldn't help but question his own motives. Wasn't he going to tell her for a more personal, selfish reason?

So he could see her again.

CoCo waited until Tara had retired to her room to speak to Grandmere. Her grandmother sat on the couch, flipping through one of her handwritten journals. She glanced up as CoCo plopped beside her.

“What is it,
ma chère?
You look like you have something on your mind.”

“I do. Can you tell me anything about the history of this house?”

Grandmere closed her leather book. “Anything in particular you want to know?”

How could she extract the information without setting off alarm bells in Grandmere? She licked her lips. “I know it's pre-Civil War. Has it always been in our family? Like during the war?”

Her grandmother smiled. “My grandpere built this house himself,
ma chère,
well before the war. My father was born and raised here.” Her eyes became unfocused. “Did you know several families holed up in this here house when the Yankees came?”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Many local families had already lost their homes and took refuge here.” She smiled that distant, I'm-not-in-the-present smile. “They brought their silver to bury alongside my family's in the backyard.”

CoCo fought to not jump with all the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She forced herself to speak calmly. “Silver? Buried here?”

Grandmere broke out of her memories and stared at CoCo. “The Yankees found most of it anyway.” She looked to the floor, the wistfulness covering her expression again. “Some say that money is hidden in these walls, but I've never seen proof of such.”

“Money?” CoCo's heart sped into overdrive. The coin. The coin!

“Oh,
ma chère,
I think that's just a story. Legend. Something to tell the little ones.” Grandmere smiled, years taken off her appearance by the gesture.

“You never told us that tale.”

Her grandmother shrugged. “There were other things to occupy your minds.” Her voice held a hint of grief.

The sentiment was contagious. CoCo's own heart twisted at the thought of the loss of her parents. She shoved the memories and pain from her mind. “People really believe there might be money hidden in this house?”

Grandmere laughed. “Most folk like to believe in treasures, pirates and hidden riches,
ma chère.
” She lowered her brows. “Why all the questions?”

“Just wondering. Never heard the story before.”

“Wasn't important.” Her grandmother grabbed her book and struggled to her feet. “I think I'm going to retire.”

CoCo pressed a kiss to her grandmother's parchment-paper skin. “Good night, Grandmere.”