Killer Cousins (30 page)

Most tables and booths were filled. The combo playing lively music enhanced a cheerful feel. Nobody sat at Gil’s table, the only one empty in that area. Father Paul Edward sat in a corner booth near it with two of his female sidekicks, the cousins—and Ish Muller. All of them shared raucous laughter.

“Welcome to Cajun Delights. How many at your table?” a waiter asked me.

“One so far. I’d like to sit at Mr. Thurman’s table, please.”

A fearful look filled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” He led me to the table.

People turned their heads and eyed me the whole time I walked. I couldn’t let them see how jittery I felt heading there.

Gil’s chair had its back to the wall. The chair Fawn had sat in was opposite it.

“I’ll sit here,” I said to the waiter, pointing to the chair next to Gil’s.

He pulled it out for me and gave me a menu.

“If Mr. Thurman is around, please tell him Cealie’s here,” I said.

He hesitated, but then nodded and took off.

I imagined Gil would join me soon. I had figured his heart would be aching because few people would show up, but the numbers proved I was wrong. I was thrilled.

I peered at customers who still stared at me. I smiled at them, and they all turned away. The priest, group leader, and sexpot cousins Lois and Sue in a nearby booth didn’t look at me.

“Hi there, Father, Ish, Lois, and Sue,” I said, leaning toward them to make certain they’d all see me.

“Oh, hello,” the priest said.

“Hey, Cealie,” the girls chirped.

Ish didn’t look pleased.

“This is a good restaurant, isn’t it?” I said.

“Uh-huh,” one cousin said. “We really like the food. But it would be strange to see somebody fall in their food, don’t you think?”

The other girl elbowed her. “That’s the table where that woman died,” she said in a half whisper.

So that’s why so many people had come. Some of them probably knew the dishes were great. Possibly human nature made the majority show up out of curiosity, to see if anyone else at this table would keel over.

Apprehension returned. I feared that same thing myself. I glanced at the spot on the table where Fawn’s head had lain in the bowl. I quickly looked away.

Bolstering my courage, I anticipated Gil striding out of his office. His face would light up when we’d see each other. He would kiss my lips and join me.

Eagerness sent heat rushing through my body.

“May I have your attention?” Babs said from the mike on the stage. The band quit playing. “We are happy that all of you joined us today. Please let any of our staff know if there is anything we can do to make your experience at Cajun Delights even better.”

She paused, and some people clapped. Me included.

Babs continued, “And now to add to your pleasure, we’ll have a joke contest. Please notice that children are here when you consider telling a joke. Any Boudreaux and Thibodaux jokes get extra credit.”

“Yes!” I cried. People looked at me. That was fine. They’d learn to love the B and T jokes as much as I did. A Cajun tradition. Gil was part Cajun. I especially liked that part of him.

I felt extra joyful since he must have had those jokes included now for my benefit. I glanced around. Didn’t see Gil yet.

A chunky man ran onstage. “Boudreaux and Thibodaux were out fishing, chewing, and sipping sweet tea. Boudreaux said, ‘Thibodaux, I think I’m gonna divorce Clotilde. She ain’t talked to me in three months.’ Thibodaux spat, took a sip of tea, and said, ‘You better think good before you do it, ole friend. It’s hard to find a woman like that.’”

Everyone laughed. Chuckles tickled my ribs.

“Very nice,” Babs told the jokester. “You have a distinct Southern accent.”

The man pointed to the front of his shirt. A picture of raw oysters. He flipped around to show everyone the back. It read
Cajun Viagra
. He ran off stage.

“Excellent,” Babs said. “Anyone else?” She looked around, waiting.

“Cealie,” a man standing close to me said.

“Oh, Dr. Wallo. Hi.”

“Is it all right if I join you?” He pulled out Fawn’s chair. I nodded, and he sat.

Gil walked up.

Chapter 30

The corners of Gil’s lips looked glued back while he smiled at the handsome doctor seated at my side and me.

“Hello, Gil,” Dr. Dan Wallo said to him.

Gil’s shoulders appeared tense, his neck stiff as he nodded. “Dan.”

“Hi,” I told Gil. “I just sat here, and then the doctor came and asked if it was okay to join me.”

“How nice,” Gil said.

I knew
nice
was not the word he meant about me being with the cutie doc. I also knew that whispering my little recent news about the doctor would have eased Gil’s inner suffering.

Ah, but a little jealousy was great for the soul, especially if he was jealous of me.

“Come on. Let’s eat together,” I told him.

With a grimace, he sat. We all placed our orders. Tension mounted from Gil being silent.

“How’s your thigh?” I asked him.

“Terrific.”

“You have problems with a thigh?” Dr. Wallo asked Gil.

“Some chairs kind of fell against it,” I said.

Gil replied nothing. He glared at me. Uh-oh, he was worried that I was going to ask about his other problem in front of the doctor—the other physical problem I’d created.

“I’d be glad to look at it for you,” Dan Wallo said.

I thought Gil’s head would fall off, he shook it so hard. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor. Thanks. I’m good.”

The waiter handed Gil water, and he gulped it. He unwrapped a cracker and chewed.

“Have you learned anything new about that woman’s death?” the doctor asked Gil.

“No. Only what you saw in the news.”

Dr. Wallo and I received salads and ate. Our entrées came. Few words were spoken. The doctor pulled his wallet out after the meal. Gil insisted he owed nothing. He thanked us for coming. I would have stayed to visit with him, but not with Gil in this mood. I kissed his cheek, walked with the doctor out the door, and drove away.

I went straight to the sheriff’s office. Asked for Detective Renwick and soon sat in front of him.

“You have to realize I’ve been traumatized by tripping over a dead man,” I said. “Please tell me something about Pierce Trottier.”

He lowered his eyes and apparently considered. He peered at me. “This will be released to the media soon. It seems he victimized some women. Sent them threats. Collected money from them.”

Stunned, I couldn’t say anything.

“We found evidence in his house. Unsent letters and bank deposits from some women we contacted. One admitted to what happened. Others swore they hadn’t paid him anything.”

“This was the man who was going to get married soon and become a minister?”

Renwick’s eyebrows squeezed closer. “His fiancée was ready to break off the engagement even before she found out about a sexual fling he had right before he died.”

“She was, even then? I heard about his apparent wild sexual encounter.”

The detective nodded. “Her aunt in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, recently told her what he was like while he lived there. Her aunt attended services in a church where he’d pass the collection. He’d stretch his arms out to purposely rub his hands against women’s breasts. Some women quit attending the church. Others started crossing their arms to block his advances.”

I breathed. Tried to think. Found my thoughts blocked. Who in the hell was that man, the good man, Pierce Trottier that I’d once admired?

“Ooh,” I blurted and rubbed my aching legs.

“You have problems?” he asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Not right now.”

I thanked him and left, my legs wobbly from aches and the swooning feeling in my head. How could this be?

I drove to Stevie’s house. Went in and sat with elbows on the kitchen table, my hands gripping my head. How could this be? Who—?

The whine of a lawnmower shut down my thoughts. I peeked through the blinds.

April chewed gum and pushed a mower in Stevie’s backyard. Cherish sat on the porch, making a mess with puzzles. I went out there. April noticed and shut off the engine.

“Why are you cutting the grass here?” I asked.

“I always do it, but I was real busy and got behind. That’s why it grew so long. I’m almost finished.”

My confusion built. I smiled at the seated child, who frowned at me. “Hey, angel, do you want to come inside?”

Cherish looked scared and shoved up to her feet. She yelled at her mom and pointed at me. “She said my real name.”

April was ready to start the mower again. She stood totally still. Then stared at me.

“We need to talk.” I walked down to the yard with her.

She glanced around like she was ready to bolt.

“You have a child. You live a lie. You can’t keep this up.”

She nodded slowly, eyes shifting toward her daughter on the porch.

“You’ve come into my room at night, haven’t you? I found the window partly open and freshly chewed gum under my bed.”

The upper part of her body swung back. April nodded. “Stevie sometimes goes into a trance and sleepwalks and opens a window, especially in that room. Probably to let good spirits in.” April shook her head. “All that stuff’s weird.”

“You found the window open?”

“Only a little. I opened it wider to go in and put it lower again when I went out.”

“So you came in to my room just to look around? I didn’t see anything taken.”

Her gaze left mine and then swung back. “I checked for papers. Looked through the drawers and your suitcase. For an old woman, you have nice lingerie.”

The old woman comment would have brought out my fighting instinct under other circumstances. Today I had much more important business to consider. “Why, April?” I gripped her hand. “Did you kill that man?”

She yanked her hand back. “No way. We moved here and took new identities, but not so I could kill anyone.”

“Momma.” Cherish ran out and grabbed onto her mom’s legs. She glared at me.

“I’m not hurting your momma,” I said and brushed the hair back from her eyes. “I want to help her.”

The girl shoved her hair back down. “Leave us alone.”

I looked at April. She stared at the grass. Stared at me.

“I didn’t know what he looked like or his real name, but he’d send me threats, saying he’d let my husband know where Cherish—really Angel—and I are. I’d give him money. And you showed up the day he died.”

“So that’s why you go to garage sales, which you don’t really like. You really need to conserve money.” Her silence gave me the answer. “You feel you need to protect your child?”

“Yes. I have custody, but she came back from two court-ordered visits with her father and had bruises. He said she fell. Cherish says he’s a good daddy. She won’t say anything bad about him or me.” She bent down and kissed the child. Cherish smiled. April stood. “I also had bruises right before I left him. But I couldn’t prove anything about him hurting her. I couldn’t trust him to be around her ever again.”

Cherish glanced worriedly at her mother.

“So April isn’t your name, either,” I said.

She shook her head. Didn’t offer her real name.

“Where was home for you?” I asked but determined the answer before she spoke.

“Alabama. Tuscaloosa. I know, that’s where Mr. Trottier lived. I didn’t know it before, but this week Stevie told me. She doesn’t know about me and Cherish.” April looked at my face. “My husband used to have our taxes done, and maybe by him. I don’t know. I had to send cash to a p
ost office box.”

“How did he contact you?”

“Notes slipped under the fence. That’s why I watched my daughter outside so much.” She rubbed her child’s shoulder.

“April, why did you get into my room?”

“I thought maybe you were the one blackmailing me.”

“Me?”

“Stevie always said you were so smart. And then you showed up. I was scared you’d discovered our identities. I wanted to look through your things to see if you had any papers about us.”

“Stevie said I was smart?”

“She always said good things about you. Now I need to finish this. I’m cleaning a lady’s house tonight.”

“April, were you watching me when I went out on the back porch last night?”

She shook her head. “I came in the house through the front door while y’all weren’t here one night. I used my key. I checked in your laptop to see if I’d find anything about me.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry. My husband makes lots of money. He could have paid you to locate me.”

“Why didn’t you use your key the first time?”

“Some of our neighbors were talking near the street. I needed to go in the back of Stevie’s house. She has a different key for the back door.”

I backed away to let her start her mower.

“Get back on the porch,” she told her child.

“Do you want me to help you make your puzzle?” I asked, and the girl frowned. She returned to Stevie’s porch and sat pouting.

My head spun with new ideas. I walked inside to my bedroom. Tossed myself across my bed and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. How could all of this be?

The lawnmower buzzed. My thoughts swirled. My eyelids drooped.

* * *

, I discovered I’d slept when I awoke to footsteps clunking through the house. Stevie was back from school. The lawnmower noises had stopped.

“You’ve got to hear this,” I said, rushing to her in the living room and blurting everything April told me.

Stevie dropped to the sofa, her face ashen. She stared at a distant vacant spot. Stared at me. “That’s why I thought I was going to die,” she said. “It’s why I wanted you here.”

I sat beside her. “I don’t understand.”

“Somebody shoved a letter under my gate. It warned I’d better follow instructions, or the worst thing I could imagine would happen. I figured that meant I would die. The note warned that more information would follow. Nothing did.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“I considered it. But then a friend who lives downtown told me she found a note in her mailbox with the same thing. She was scared—till her kids told her those words are used in a popular video game. We decided some teens must be restless and playing pranks.”