Bayou Justice (18 page)

Her grandmother jerked, clearly startled. “You frightened me,
ma chère.
I was woolgathering.”

CoCo sat on the couch, Luc sitting beside her. She held out the picture to her grandmother. “We found this in one of the trunks.”

Grandmere took the picture and glanced at it. “What have we here?”

With a sigh, she lifted the glasses she wore on a chain around her neck and perched them over the bridge of her nose. She sucked in air. Her hands trembled. The photo drifted to the floor, like a dried leaf caught on an autumn breeze.

“Grandmere!” CoCo's insides shuddered and goose bumps pricked her skin. She wrapped an arm around the older woman, guilt for her earlier accusing thoughts settling in her heart.

Her grandmother's face turned ashen. “Not Marcel. In the Klan?” Her voice quivered.

“That photo was taken here, on this land. You didn't know?”

“Of course not! My traditions come from Haiti,
ma chère,
you know that. I would never have allowed Marcel to be so prejudiced against something I value so deeply. Never.”

“Then who took this picture?” Luc asked, lifting the photo from where it had landed on the hardwood floor.

“I know not.” Grandmere's entire body shook.

With a trembling hand, CoCo passed the letter to her grandmother. “We found this as well.”

Grandmere shook as she read, her eyes filling with tears.

Luc pushed to his feet. “I think it's high time I talk to Uncle Justin and get some answers.”

“I don't think now's a good time,” CoCo said.

“Why not?” Irritation sat in his features. “I'm tired of getting the runaround. It's time for the truth.”

“Wait until after tomorrow, Luc.”

“Why?” Impatience hovered in his tone.

“Because tomorrow is your grandfather's funeral.”

I
t didn't seem right for the day to be bright and beautiful when they were going to bury a man. The blue jays tweeted and sang outside. CoCo stood at the window in her bedroom, staring out over the bayou. Funerals—hadn't she endured enough of them in her life already? Mom and Dad, Grandpere, Luc's father, now his grandfather. If she closed her eyes, she could still see her parents' coffins, side by side. She avoided their graves with the single headstone. It hurt too much.

Lord, help me to understand. I can't see why death keeps kicking me in the face. Please, Father, give me strength.

“Are you going to his funeral? ”Tara asked from the doorway.

CoCo turned to her sister. “I am.”

“Grandmere told me Luc was here with you last night.” Tara's eyebrows arched into her forehead. “Guess you two kissed and made up?”

“Not really. We're just working together to try and find out who killed his grandfather.”

“Nothing more?”

“No. I just want our family name cleared.”

Her sister laughed. “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” She shrugged. “Hey, if he's the one who'll make you happy, I'm all for it.” She took a couple of steps into the room. “His grandfather is a whole other story. If you want my opinion—”

“I don't.” CoCo set her chin.

Tara snorted. A most unladylike snort at that. “I say you should have let the gators keep him.”

“Tara! That's a horrible thing to say about another human being.”

“Some human he was. ”Tara crossed her arms over her chest. “He was perfectly willing to throw us out, and you know it.”

CoCo chewed her bottom lip.
Lord, help me out
. “You know, there's a lot more going on here than the obvious. I didn't personally like Beau, but I respected his life.”

“Good. You go respect. I'll stay here with Grandmere.”

She managed to hold back the sigh. No sense getting into yet another argument with her sister. They obviously didn't see eye-to-eye, probably never would. Until God touched Tara's heart anyway.

“By the way, Alyssa said she's calling you tonight.” Tara threw the departing slam before leaving.

Oh, happy day. Joy and rapture. Another scathing call from her sister. Her
younger
sister. As if today wouldn't be hard enough. Then again, last night had been pretty tough. She had never seen Grandmere break down and sob so. It nearly broke CoCo's heart. Grandpere's letter, in his own words, had reinforced the witnessing she'd been trying with her grandmother. Maybe God's timing would come around quicker after all. She prayed so.

She grabbed her purse from the dresser and glanced in the mirror to give herself a once-over. She'd coerced her curls into a tight bun. The hairstyle made her eyes appear darker against her tanned skin. At least she had a clear complexion. The plain black dress with gold buttons all the way down the front would have to suffice. Her skin itched against the panty hose. Good thing the church she'd been attending across town allowed pants. Getting all gussied up in hose, dresses and pumps left a lot to be desired. A whole lot.

Her heels clicked as she made her way down the stairs. The robust aroma of fresh coffee met her as she stepped into the foyer. She marched into the kitchen.

Grandmere turned, offering her a cup. “Thought you might need this,
cher.
”

“Merci.”
She took a cautious sip and savored the strong French Roast.

“I can make you some breakfast.”

“
Merci,
but no. I don't feel much up to eating right now.” CoCo took another sip of coffee, studying her grandmother over the rim. “How're you feeling this morning?”

“I'm right as rain,
ma chère.
I talked to the spirits last night, and I know my Marcel's at peace.”

The spirits? CoCo chewed her bottom lip. Would it never end? She'd been so sure she'd gotten through to her grandmother. What more could she say? She sure didn't want to beat her over the head with the Bible like Luc said.

“You'd better get a move on. You don't want to be late.”

“Right.” She took a final sip of coffee before setting the cup in the sink. China rattled against porcelain.

Her grandmother smiled, softening her pensive expression. “
Ma chère,
I may be old, but I can see the look of love on both of your faces.”

“Don't be silly. He broke off our engagement. We're just working together to figure this out, that's all.” Were her emotions that obvious to everyone?

“I guess it's not much of my business, yes?”

CoCo stared at her grandmother for only a split second before pulling her into a hug. “I love you.”

“I only want you to be happy,
cher,
” her grandmother whispered and returned the hug.

“I am.” CoCo straightened. If only she could believe her own argument.

Grandmere ducked her head. “Now, get.”

The heat pressed down, nearly suffocating CoCo as she walked to the Jeep. She stumbled as she picked her way amid rocks and uneven ground. Stupid heels. How ever did working women wear them every day, all day? She slipped in the driver's seat and hopped, the leather so hot against the back of her bare knees. Why didn't men ever have to undergo such torture?

Trees passed by in a blur as she drove, even though she kept the speed five miles below the limit. No one rushed to bury the dead. Not in Cajun country anyway. In Vermilion parish, the folks liked to draw out the mourning, the burying and the grieving. It was just the Southern way. Unlike the Yankees, who did quick memorial services and went on about their normal lives.

Her heart pounded as she pulled up to the cemetery. Justin and Luc had opted to have the service at graveside, knowing so many in the area would attend and the church building wouldn't hold everyone. She killed the engine and stared at the people picking their way across the ground toward the big tent. Luc would be here already. The family had a private viewing earlier this morning and planned to come straight to the graveside immediately afterward. CoCo shook as she remembered the last funeral she'd attended. She'd gone to that one for Luc, too. The day they'd buried his father. The day he'd turned to her with eyes as cold as the Antarctic. The day he'd broken their engagement. And her heart.

CoCo shook off the memory. She and Luc had come full circle.

Luc stood head and shoulders above most of the other men. Her heart leapt to her throat. He looked so strong as he accepted handshake after handshake. Like a pillar.

She made her way toward him. He caught sight of her when she was halfway there. He smiled—a smile reserved only for her. A secret smile of dreams. Her heart thudded.

He bent to whisper in her ear. “I'm glad you're here.”

That's all she needed to hear, all she needed to know for this short moment. She faced his uncle sitting in the last chair in the front row. His eyes were glazed over, glued to the coffin on the stand over the open grave. She took the few steps to stand before him. “I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Justin.”

He jerked his gaze to her, but the glazed appearance stayed. “What're you doing here?” He spoke loud and sharp.

His words were as effective as a slap across the face. She stumbled a step backward and hit a wall. She spun around and met Luc's stern expression. He was the wall she'd hit.

“Uncle Justin, CoCo's here because I asked her to come.” He laid an arm around her shoulders. “For me.”

His uncle stared at Luc's face for a long minute, then he gave a curt nod. “So that's how it is, huh?”

Luc let a slow breath hiss between his teeth. Justin's gaze dropped to CoCo's face. His scrutiny caused heat that had nothing to do with the hot sun to sizzle in her spine. She lifted her chin and met his stare. He narrowed his eyes and then let out a little chuckle. “I like your spunk, girl.” He stood and nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

That was about as sincere as she was going to get. She smiled and offered her hand. “I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. Justin. I know how it feels to lose people you love.” Her words softened.

So did his eyes. “I remember, young lady.” His voice cracked. He gave another nod before moving to a group of older people standing in a semicircle off to the side of the chairs.

CoCo let out the breath she'd been holding.

“See, he does like you.”

She gave a snort similar to the one Tara had earlier. “Yeah, that's why he demanded to know why I'm here, because he likes me so much.”

“You're a suspect, and he's grieving. He backed off.”

“Only because you practically threatened him with the tone of your words.” She caught sight of Toby standing by himself, away from the rest of the crowd. “I'll be back in just a minute,” she told Luc before heading toward the teen.

“Hi, Toby.”

The boy jerked his head to stare at her. The surprise on his face faded back to normal when he recognized her. “Hiya, Ms. CoCo.”

“I didn't know you knew Mr. Trahan.”

“My dad made me come.”

“Oh.” She glanced around, but didn't see anybody watching Toby. This was the first she'd heard of the boy's father. Toby lived with his grandmother, his deceased mother's mom. Where had the father come from? “I planned to call you. We need some more repairs done around the house.”

The boy's eyes lit up. “Cool. Maybe I can find another doubloon.”

Her heart pounded loud, drowning out the conversations around her. “About that doubloon—do you still have it?”

“Nah, my dad's boss said he collected old doubloons and wanted it for his collection. He paid me twenty bucks for it.”

Twenty bucks for a coin worth five thousand. She chewed her bottom lip. “Did you tell him where you'd gotten it?”

“Yeah. He said he'd buy any more I found, too.” The teen's eyes sparkled.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Someone else knew the coins were in her house. “Toby, who is your dad's b—”

Luc took a gentle hold of her elbow. “Let's take our seats. Looks like Preacher's ready to get started.” He led her toward the chairs, then froze. “What's he doing here?”

She followed his line of vision, which stopped at Dwayne Williams's feet. “I'll go see,” she whispered as she made her way toward her attorney.

Dwayne stood behind the crowd, his tight afro shining in the sun. She nudged up beside him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pay my respects.”

“Dwayne, you can't be serious.” She darted her gaze around the area where people were milling toward the tent. “I know better.”

“Look, I'm a suspect in his murder just like you are. Nine times out of ten, the murderer shows up at a funeral. I'm just keeping my eyes and ears open.” He gave a slight jerk of his head. “Just like the cops there. Keeping an eye on everyone.”

Sure enough, Sheriff Theriot and two deputies hovered near the entrance to the cemetery. Until Beau's murder was solved, she remained under the microscope. Right alongside Luc and Dwayne.

Luc jerked the knot loose on his tie. He tossed the offensive article of clothing across the back of the bedroom chair. Its silky texture couldn't catch on the tapestry so it slipped to the floor. He left it there, refusing to pick it up. His day couldn't have been much worse. What was it about burying the dead that left the living feeling guilty for still breathing?

“Luc, your grandfather's attorney is here.” His mother's voice floated up the stairs and down the hall to his open door.

“Be there in a sec.” He wished CoCo could have come to sit beside him. Funny how he, a grown man, wanted someone to hold his hand. He sure as shootin' couldn't look to Bubba for support. Not today. His childhood friend was present in an official capacity at the reading of Beau Trahan's last will and testament.

Luc's stomach roiled. He'd just seen his grandfather's body lowered into the ground, and now he'd have to face some lawyer to hear Grandfather's last wishes. It just seemed… wrong.

What else could he do? He unbuttoned the top button of his white Oxford with a sigh and clunked down the stairs. Several voices reached him before he entered the study. His grandfather's study. He didn't miss the irony.

“There you are,
cher,
” his mother said as she patted the seat next to her on the couch. “Come sit so we can get started. Mr. Milton is a busy man, I'm sure.”

Luc sat beside his mother and stared at the man sitting behind the desk. His grandfather's desk. The man had thinning gray hair, glasses thicker than Bubba's and a paunchy belly, yet his eyes shone as he looked at Luc's mother. She patted her hair in response. Luc fidgeted, glancing over his shoulder to the other people in the room.