Bayou Justice (9 page)

Tara stood and held CoCo's chin in her hand, tipping it to look into her sister's eyes. “I see a man in agony because he's not with the woman he loves—you. And you're both too stubborn to recognize y'all belong together.”

CoCo jerked her chin free. “Now, with Beau being murdered, the eviction notice…” She flung herself back on the bed and laid her forearm over her eyes. “I feel like I'm caught in some stupid Shakespearean play.”

Tara chuckled. “Juliet you aren't,
cher.
”

“Thanks.” She flopped her arm onto the mattress beside her. “I feel like the Montagues and the Capulets, trapped in some stupid family argument.”

“True love can prevail, CoCo.”

She sat up straight and met her sister's stern expression. A laugh bubbled from her chest and escaped. “Uh, Tara, Romeo and Juliet died in that play, remember?”

Tara's brows knitted, then she laughed. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

CoCo stood and hugged her sister, still laughing. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, though,
Boo.
”

“I didn't mean to upset you. Seriously, you can't keep running from this, you know?”

She sighed. “I know. I'll deal with my feelings after we get all this…” she flipped her hands through the air “…
stuff
handled.” Maybe once Luc Trahan proved himself not worthy of her trust again her heart could let him go.

“Don't wait forever. It's simmered for a long time as it is.” Tara moved toward the door. “You know, I can always mix up a little potion. Love or truth. Either way, you'd know how he felt about you.”

And here she was, thinking she'd made some headway with her little sister. “Tara, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't want anything to do with voodoo, period.”

Her sister shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don't linger too long, CoCo, because if you do, someone like Sadie Thompson
will
make a move on him, and then it'll be too late for your happiness.”

CoCo watched Tara slip outside the bedroom, pulling the door behind her.

CoCo opened her word processor and added another paragraph to her grant proposal. She had to get funding, or she'd be out of a job. What would happen to Grandmere and Tara then? Herself? After adding the finishing touches to her document, she stood, stretched, flipped off the light and threw herself across the bed.

Alone in the dark, tears sprang until she'd cried enough to fill a bayou offshoot. When her eyes finally ran dry, she moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain.

This is so hard, God. Surround me with Your love, the only love I need.

The wind kicked up, blowing the leaves to make a whirring in the night air. No tree frogs croaked. A flash of lightning crawled across the sky.

She pressed her lips together. A storm headed to Lagniappe. She could only hope it wouldn't be as turbulent as the emotions shattering her heart tonight.

W
ithin the casino walls, the sounds of chips clanking, slot machines spinning and the
cha-ching
of coins falling into metal, not to mention the roar of voices, muffled the rumble of thunder. Luc, Justin and the sheriff waited for Sammy Moran, the casino's assistant manager, to unlock the penthouse suite. Raindrops from their shoulders plopped to the plush carpet. The storm, which had started last night, still raged outside this early morning.

Sheriff Theriot shoved his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and sniffled. “No one's been inside since Beau died, right?”

Sammy pushed the door open and shook his head. “Not that I'm aware of.
I
certainly haven't given anyone access.”

“Good, good.” The sheriff strode into the foyer of Beau's residence. “We'll lock up when we're done.” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh. Very well.” Sammy faced Luc and Justin, his eyes half-lidded. “I'm sorry for your loss. However, I wondered when Beau's things would be removed. This is a corporate suite.”

Justin's face turned red. “Don't worry, you can move in here before we even hold the funeral, which will be Saturday. Even though ya didn't bother to ask.”

Sammy's face flushed all the way to the tips of his exposed ears. “Of course I'm interested in the funeral. All of management will attend.”

“Why bother? You didn't much like him in life, why show up to pay last respects?” Justin shifted his large build into the room, glaring at Sammy.

The assistant manager twirled the key ring on his index finger. “Th-th-that's not accurate. And it's unfair.”

Sheriff Theriot scratched his pen on his notebook. “Did you like Mr. Trahan?” He directed his question to Sammy.

“We weren't friends, but I respected him as my boss.” Sammy pocketed the key ring.

Justin gave a loud snort. “That's a lie. You couldn't wait for him to retire, and ya kept pushing Luc here, to decline taking over. You want the manager position and ya know it. No sense in denying the facts.”

“I only told Luc to follow his heart. I knew he didn't want the managerial position.” Sammy shoved his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks.

“Is that a fact?” Bubba looked to Luc.

“In Sammy's defense, I did mention to him that I had no interest in working for the casino.” All the past conversations they'd had rang in his ears. How many snide comments had Sammy made about Grandfather that Luc had ignored? Luc raked his gaze over Sammy. “He didn't hide the fact he had his eye on becoming casino manager.”

Sammy gasped. “Luc! You make it sound like I would do anything to get Beau's job, and that isn't true.”

“You know good and well Beau wasn't going to recommend ya take over, even if Luc didn't take the job.” Justin clasped his beefy paws in front of him.

“Is that true, Mr. Moran?” The sheriff scribbled on his notebook as he kept up with the conversation. “If Mr. Trahan recommended someone else take his place instead of you, would you get the job?”

Still red-faced and now visibly shaken, Sammy shrugged. “I don't know. You'd have to ask the owner that question.”

“What's your position now, since Mr. Trahan's death?” Bubba stared at the assistant manager.

“Well, uh.”

“You're acting manager, aren't ya, boy?” Justin's voice boomed off the marble walls of the penthouse foyer.

“Until the owners make a decision, yes, I'm acting manager.” He inched toward the door. “As such, I need to get back downstairs and check on things. Am I done here?”

Sheriff Theriot gave a curt nod. “For now. I'll find you later to ask you a few more questions and let you know when an officer will come by to help with the clearing out of Mr. Trahan's things.”

Sammy nodded and rushed from the suite.

“There's another suspect for ya, Sheriff.” Justin shut the door with the toe of his boot. “And why can't we, Beau's family, pack up his stuff?”

“Because we need to log everything.” Bubba stared at Luc's uncle. “Just in case there's something important found. Or something important that's missing.”

Justin snorted. “Right. So, whatcha looking for here?”

“I'd just like to glance over your brother's belongings in their place.” Bubba moved toward the living area. He jerked his head around. “Nice digs.”

“Beau always did have champagne taste.” Justin chuckled as he followed the sheriff. “Good thing he could afford to support his indulgences.”

“Is there anything in particular we should be looking for?” Luc asked. A sense of inferiority always washed over him in this place. Like he didn't measure up to his grandfather's expectations.

Bubba headed toward the bedroom. “Just see if you notice anything out of place.” He paused in the doorway and hollered back to them. “Don't touch anything, though.”

Still chuckling, Justin wandered into the kitchen. “Wonder if Beau has a cold drink in the icebox.” He pulled open the door and bent. “Hey, Luc, look at this.”

Luc moved into the kitchen and peered over his uncle's shoulder into the icebox. “What am I looking at?”

Justin pointed at the clear top of the crisper bin. “Funny place to keep a checkbook, wouldn't you say?”

“Don't touch the drawer.” Over his shoulder, Luc hollered for Bubba.

The sheriff strode into the kitchen. “What'd you find?”

With a jerk of his chin, Justin indicated the bin. “Never knew my brother to keep his banking stuff in the icebox.”

Bubba waved Justin and Luc back. “Let me take a look.” Hunched over, he used the tip of his pen to slide the drawer out. A leather bankbook lay at the bottom of the bin. He popped on a set of latex gloves from his pocket to grab the checkbook.

Luc and Justin followed the sheriff as he laid it on the counter and flipped the top open. He let out a low whistle.

“What?” Luc and Justin asked in unison.

“There's an entry dated this past Tuesday. A check written in the amount of fifty-thousand dollars.”

“To who?” Luc rested his shoulder against the kitchen doorway. He'd never known his grandfather to be that generous with anyone. Not anyone in his family at any rate.

Bubba lifted his gaze to peer at them. “To FrankThibodeaux.”

Luc's gut tightened. “Frank Thibodeaux?”

“Who is that?” Justin wanted to know.

“He's Felicia's boyfriend.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Luc caught the interest in Bubba's eyes.

“The way your momma tells it, Beau didn't much care for Frank.”

“He didn't. I can't imagine why Grandfather would loan him such an amount of money. It must be a mistake of some sort.” Luc pressed his lips together, wondering what Felicia hadn't told him.

Justin snorted. “Beau didn't loan nobody money.”

“Then how do you explain this check entry?” Bubba held his pen over his notebook, a questioning look glimmering in his eyes.

“I can't.” Luc glanced at his uncle.

“Beau didn't mention Felicia's boyfriend to me.” Justin jerked on his earlobe.

“Could he have been blackmailing Beau?” The sheriff spoke in a low tone.

“Blackmail? Why would ya think that?” Justin's roar ricocheted off the pristine white kitchen cabinets.

Bubba tapped the top of the pen against his chin. “When a large amount of money is paid to someone in a lump sum, it's normally either to pay off a debt, a loan or a blackmail payment.” He shoved his glasses back against the bridge of his nose. “Since we can assume Beau wasn't repaying a debt to this Frank, and y'all claim Beau wouldn't have loaned the man money, that's the only other thing that comes to mind.”

“I can't think of anything Frank would even know to blackmail Grandfather about.” Luc's discomfort grew the longer the conversation wore on. What did this mean for Felicia?

“I'll talk to him today, that's for sure.” Bubba's glasses slipped down his nose again. “Luc, you said Frank had been to the house. No telling what he had access to.”

“Grandfather wouldn't tolerate blackmail.” He studied his friend's face and let out a sigh. “Come on, Bubba, you know how he was. He wouldn't put up with anybody having something on him.” He gave a shrug. “Besides, according to Felicia, Grandfather had threatened Frank with financial ruin if he didn't end the relationship with her. Why would he pay Frank a dime?”

Recognizing the excitement in Bubba's eyes, Luc shook his head. He'd done it again—unwittingly placed his sister's boyfriend at the top of the suspect list. Then again, he couldn't help feeling bewildered about the check. He nodded toward the checkbook. “Any chance it's a mistake?”

The sheriff lifted the checkbook and held it up where both Luc and his uncle could read the register. “Would you say this is Beau's handwriting?”

“Yep, that's my brother's neat penmanship.”

“Then what other explanation can you offer, Luc?” Bubba stared at him.

He couldn't come up with a single reason. What he did know, however, was the pain this would bring his sister. God help them all.

CoCo stared out the living room window, watching the lightning dance across the sky. She itched to be on the bayou, but knew the weather wouldn't permit her morning run. She'd finish her report and get it in the mail, the sooner the better. If she beat some of the other grant petitioners, maybe she'd get approval. She desperately needed that grant—without the money, she didn't know how she'd help support Grandmere and Tara.

“Watching the storm won't make it dissipate,
ma chère.
”

She turned to smile at her grandmother. “I know, but I feel like my whole morning is wasted.”

Grandmere laughed and lowered the dream catcher she was working on to her lap. “You always were happiest when out in the bayou.”

Moving to sit on the couch beside her grandmother, CoCo studied the older woman. “Grandmere, tell me the truth—do you believe Grandpere signed over the deed to this house?”

“I really couldn't say,
ma chère.
He never said as much to me.”

CoCo licked her lips, dreading the territory she inched into. “Would he have told you?” She held her breath, waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow.

Her grandmother didn't blow. Instead, she let out a long breath. “I'd like to think he would have, but he might not.” Her fingers reached for the round beads in the bowl on the coffee table.

So, it
was
possible. Just as she'd feared.

“Grandmere, if it's true, why would Beau Trahan have waited all this time to act on it?”

“
Ma chère,
I can only surmise his grandson stopped him, out of deference to you.” Her grandmother's eyes probed deep into CoCo, exploring a place she didn't want tapped into.

Doubtful. CoCo recalled her conversations with Luc. “No, that can't be it. When I told Luc, he was as surprised as we were to hear about the eviction.” She let out a soft sigh. “Besides, Luc never did have the backbone to stand up to his grandfather.” Or even to his own feelings.

“Hmm.” Grandmere threaded a bead onto the twine and tied it off. “I suppose Justin could have stopped him.”

“Justin Trahan?” After the way he'd acted yesterday, CoCo couldn't see him asking his brother to stop taking over their home. He'd seethed animosity toward her family.

“Of course, Justin Trahan. He and your grandfather were best friends for the longest time, you know.”

News to her. CoCo lifted a bead from the bowl and passed it to her grandmother. “When was this?”

“Oh, my,
ma chère
. Going back before I had Robert, I suppose.”

Hearing her father's name spoken aloud, CoCo's memories of her parents and the pain of her loss slammed against her heart. In thirteen years, not a day had passed when she didn't long for her mother or father. The yearning hit her full force. She swallowed hard. “I didn't know.”

“Oh, yes. Marcel and Justin went hunting 'bout every weekend.” Grandmere looped twine around the hoop, stretching it taut. “Those two were thick as thieves.”

“What happened? I never remember Grandpere and Justin being together after we moved here.”

Her grandmother smiled, but kept weaving on the dream catcher. “I suppose they outgrew each other. Marcel and I became wrapped up with Robert. Justin never married, so he couldn't understand the family life Marcel chose.”

“After all the time that passed, why would Justin stop his brother from taking over this house years ago?”

Grandmere lifted her gaze. A sly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I don't know for certain,
ma chère,
but I've always suspected Justin had a bit of a crush on me.”