Bayou Betrayal (14 page)

“Hmm.” CoCo winked at her husband. “
Gary's
being nice and doing his job. Isn't that swell?”

Felicia stared at Monique. “Stop. Y'all are embarrassing Monique.”

“I'm sorry,
Boo.
I'm only teasing.”

“Nothing to apologize for. There's nothing going on.” But her heart started an argument with her head on that point. She ignored it.

The waitress appeared, took their orders and withdrew, after paying extra-special attention to Luc. CoCo rolled her eyes. Monique refrained from chuckling, but caught Felicia's under-her-breath giggle.

He turned to her, seriousness covering his handsome features. “I'm very concerned about these threats against you. After the fire…well, it's obvious someone's serious about harming you.”

“Do you have any idea who could do such a thing?” CoCo asked.

Monique explained to them about Kent's murder, and Investigator Walkin's reaction to Gary's questions.

Luc nodded. “Good, he's following through on every angle.” He paused as the waitress delivered their drinks, then went on as soon as she left. “Of course, someone local has to be involved, to have set the fire.”

She'd already considered that. It should have frightened her more, but it didn't. She would stand firm. Especially now, when she had a family to accept her. “I'm ready to put it behind me and get on with my life.”

Felicia launched into details of their productive morning. CoCo oohed and aahed over the description of furniture and things purchased. At the end of the conversation, Felicia directed her comments to her brother. “And we need to meet with the Trahan lawyer. Monique is a legal heir of Uncle Justin's, and we need to make sure she gets what she's entitled to from the estate.”

“I don't want anything. Really.” She let her gaze rest on each person at the table. “I didn't come here for anything but to meet each of you and get to know you. That's it.” She didn't want anything of Justin's, not after his rude rejection of her. Besides, having a family was more than enough for her.

“Oh, we know you don't expect or want anything, but it's rightfully yours,” Felicia said. “If Uncle Justin had been the man he should've been, you would've had it to begin with.”

“I just wanted to know my family.” Sobs caught in her chest. “And you've all been so accepting and wonderful…that's all I could ever want.” Or need. How long had she envied friends back in Monroe with big families? Now, she had one of her own, and she wouldn't allow anything or anyone to intrude.

“But don't you see, it's not enough for us.” Luc took her hand. “We have plenty of money—giving you a share of the estate is the right thing to do. We can't not do it. That'd be wrong of us.”

Tears pushed into her eyes. “I don't need money, either. I got a large life insurance policy payout after Kent's death.” It seemed so wrong to profit off the loss of her husband, but she'd known he'd wanted to make sure she was provided for.

“If you don't let us do this, it hurts us.” Felicia waited until the waitress delivered their food and scurried off again before finishing. “It's not about the money. It's about doing what's right. God tells us to do what's right, regardless.”

“But that's not why I came here.”

“No one said it was.” Luc squeezed her hand. “Let me put this another way…if the tables were turned, and you found out your mother had another child and you met her, wouldn't you feel it was the right thing to do to ensure that a sibling of yours got part of your mother's estate?”

She'd never thought about it like that before. But still…

“We have to do this, Monique. If you decide you want to give your part of the estate away to charity, that's your decision, but you can't expect us not to do what we know is right.” Felicia smiled, love pouring from her eyes.

“What do you do with your parts of the estate? I mean, you said it's in a trust or something, right?”

“We use Grandfather's lawyer, who keeps the entire estate in a trust of sorts. We make large contributions to specific charities each year. If one of us needs something, we have the trust write us a check.” Felicia shrugged. “Stuff like that.”

“And we have specific accounts set up for our future children,” Luc added.

An idea came to her. “Why can't I just be added to the estate trust? I don't want to pull anything out, and it sounds like y'all have it set up so well.”

Felicia smiled brightly. “That's perfect.” She looked at her brother. “Luc?”

He nodded. “I'll call the lawyer tomorrow.”

CoCo let out a loud sigh. “Good. That's settled. Can we eat now? I'm starving.”

Chuckles rose from around the table.

“Yep. Let me offer grace first, if you can stave off your appetite for a few minutes more,” Luc teased.

CoCo reached behind Monique to pop him playfully on the arm. “Always jumping up to do the glory.” She addressed Monique. “Forgive my husband for assuming…he takes this head of household thing way too far. Would you like to say grace?”

“Oh, no. Please, go ahead.”

She bowed her head and registered Luc speaking, but his words bounced against her hardened heart. She couldn't get over her anger at God yet. He'd allowed Kent to be taken from her so abruptly, before their lives had really begun. Scripture said the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Well, He'd taken away—both her mother and Kent—but what had He given?

She lifted her head and experienced the strong sense of belonging.

Had He given her a replacement family?

S
howtime.

Gary got out of the cruiser, Bob trailing him. Together, they made their way up the wooden steps to the address listed on the invoice for Niles Patterson, with Gary taking note of everything he saw.

The house needed a lot of work—paint peeled, porch boards warped, in desperate need of replacement, and windowpanes had spiderweb cracks. The bayou edged along the backyard, pushing its fishy odor around the house to the frontyard. If Niles Patterson had lived here for any length of time, he sure wasn't into home improvement.

Pulling out his badge, Gary knocked on the door. “Mr. Patterson? It's Deputy Anderson with the Vermilion parish sheriff's office.”

Shuffling sounds came from the other side of the door. “Just a minute.”

The door opened with a creak.

A hulk of a man, approximately forty years old with shaggy hair and thick glasses like Sheriff Theriot used to wear, stared out from the crack. “I'm Niles Patterson. What can I do for you?”

Gary held his badge up for the man to see. “We'd like to ask you a few questions, if we might.”

“About what?” Cautious, but not rude.

“About a purchase you made last month of biodiesel fuel.”

“What about it?”

Gary swallowed his sigh. “We'd rather discuss this with you inside.” He'd like to get a glimpse of the interior of the house. Who knew what clues might lurk inside?

Niles swung open the door. “Come on in.”

Not exactly the actions of someone with something to hide. And he didn't speak with a Cajun accent—more of a Southern twang.

Gary followed Niles into his living room and sat on the sofa where the man motioned. Springs jabbed Gary in the lower back. He scooted to the edge amid squeaks. No telling what was under the sofa. Gary really didn't want to think about the possibilities.

Bob stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. Niles dropped to a well-worn recliner. It sagged under his weight. “What about my purchase?”

“We understand you purchased quite a large amount of the fuel.” Gary flipped pages in his little notebook. “Sixty-five gallons, to be exact.”

“Yep.”

Great, this would be like pulling wisdom teeth. “May I ask what you need that much fuel for?”

“Is it against the law to buy it?”

“No, it's not.”

“Then why all the questions?”

“Why avoid answering?” Bob interjected.

Niles shoved hair from his forehead and peered into the arson investigator's face. “I bought the fuel because I'm about to launch a charter fishing service. I can use it in my boat with the adapter kit, and it's cheaper than regular petro.”

“Really?” Gary made notes. “How long have you lived here in Lagniappe, Mr. Patterson?”

“Moved here about a month or so ago.”

“From where?”

“Lake Charles.”

“What brought you to Lagniappe?”

Niles shifted in the chair. It creaked in protest. “Why don't you tell me what this is all about?”

“We're investigating a fire. Now, why did you move to Lagniappe?”

The man's face reddened. “I'm going to get married to a gal who lives here. She refused to move, so I did. We'll be getting hitched the end of next month. She wants me to get my business up and running before so we'll have enough money to take a real honeymoon.” Even the tips of his ears turned red.

“Congratulations. Who's the lucky lady?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but MaryEllen Grant.”

Gary had to think. He knew the name…Oh, yeah, she worked over at Miller's store. A social wannabe. He nodded and jotted down her name.

“You already to the point in setting up your business that you bought fuel?” Bob asked, pushing off from the doorway.

“Yep.” Niles shoved to his feet. “Come on out back. I'll show ya.”

They followed him through the house toward the back door. Gary chose his steps carefully, avoiding crushed soda cans and paper napkins fisted into tight wads.

Hopefully, MaryEllen would call for a full remodeling before she said, “I do.” At the very least, she needed to demand a thorough cleaning of the place. Dirty dishes crowded the sink, and the stench of spoiled milk permeated the close quarters. Gary hurried outside.

“This here's my boat, the
MaryEllen.
Just bought her two weeks ago and got her all gussied up myself.”

Too bad Niles hadn't given as much attention to his house. The boat was polished to a shimmering shine. Four captain's chairs, oversized live bait compartment, six life jackets onboard and a selection of fishing tackle that would make Bass Pro Shops proud. Gary made notes, but Niles seemed legit. No one would invest this much in a boat without hoping to recoup some of the expenses.

“Where are you storing the fuel?” Bob asked.

“Over here.” Niles led them to what looked like a propane gas tank. “I recycled this to hold my fuel, so I don't have to keep running over to Fenton's place if I get lucky and charter back-to-back fishing expeditions.”

Bob inspected the gauge on the tank. “This reading accurate?”

“Pretty much.”

Bob caught Gary's gaze and gave a curt nod.

Time to move on. Gary extended his hand to Niles. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Patterson. Good luck in your business, and your upcoming marriage.”

Niles shook his hand. “Thanks.”

On the walk around the house to the car—no way was Gary going back through that kitchen—Bob informed him the gauge read almost fifty-four gallons in the tank. “He had to fill up his boat, so that wouldn't leave enough to have been used as the accelerant.”

“I'll still run a background check on him, just to be on the safe side.” But as Gary started the cruiser's engine, his gut instinct told him the man would come back clean.

“Want to pay Mr. Haynie a visit?”

Gary glanced at the dashboard clock. Four-fifteen. “Actually, I need to check back in at the station, file this report and order the background checks on Patterson and Haynie.”

“Yeah, I need to send in my report, too. I'll meet you at the office at eight in the morning. Maybe we can surprise Kevin Haynie.”

“I hope so.” Gary turned onto the station's street.

Yeah, he really hoped so, because their suspect list was dwindling down to nothing, and he hadn't a clue where else to look.

 

Where on earth had the rocker come from?

Monique stared as the delivery truck unloaded a single, large wooden rocker with cushion. “Where do you want this?” The man huffed.

She'd tried to find one and order it earlier, but had been out of luck. “Um, I think there's a mistake. I didn't order this.”

“Lady, it comes to you. Just tell me where to put it.”

Without question, she knew. “The bedroom.” She led the way down the hall.

He shifted around her into the room. “Where?”

“By the window.” It looked perfect there, just as she'd imagined. “But I didn't order this.”

He handed her an envelope and a clipboard. “Sign here.” He pointed to a line and stuck a pen in her hand.

So what if she was charged for this later? She'd tried to order one like it anyway, but had been told it wasn't available. The rocker was the exact one she'd wanted.

She scrawled her signature where the man indicated, then handed the clipboard back.

He took it and headed to the front door without so much as “Thank you” or “Have a nice day.” She followed and saw him out.

“I thought you couldn't find the chair.” Felicia walked into the living room from the kitchen, chewing on a piece of cheese from the tray Parker had brought over earlier.

The guy still gave her the willies, although he'd been nothing but nice.

“They just brought it in,” CoCo announced around a cracker.

“But I didn't order it.” Monique realized she still held the envelope. Turning it over, she withdrew a card from inside. It was a housewarming card. She slowly opened it.

Tears choked her. “It's a housewarming gift. From Gary.”

Both CoCo and Felicia seemed to “hmm” in unison. She ignored them. How kind of him. To send a gift for the house. Her house. And the perfect gift, too. One she'd mentioned she wanted. He'd paid attention and ordered it for her. Her pulse hiccupped. Such a gesture…well, she'd figure out why her heart pounded so quickly later.

“Wait. I have a housewarming gift for you, too.” Felicia nudged her husband. He disappeared outside, returning in a few minutes with a large, framed piece covered with brown paper. He handed it to Felicia, who smiled and put it in Monique's hands. “This is for you. Spence and I saw it and immediately thought of you yesterday.”

Monique was overwhelmed. Her new family and friends were so thoughtful and generous.

Family. How many years she'd yearned for family, and now she had an amazing one. A family who loved and accepted her just as she was.

“Well, open it! I want to see what it is.” CoCo hopped from foot to foot.

Laughing, Monique ripped the paper and stared at the picture.

Framed in the same cherrywood as the coffee and end tables, it was a portrait. The background of the picture conveyed a sun setting over the bayou. The beautiful photography captured the feel of peace and tranquility Monique had felt immediately upon arriving in the area. Inscribed in black calligraphy was a Scripture verse:

Monique stared at Felicia, tears burning the back of her eyes. She blinked several times. “Thank you. It's beautiful.”

“Spence and I saw it at the same time and looked at each other and said, ‘Monique.' We had to get it for you.”

“I love it.” She smiled at Spence. “Thank you. Would you hang it over the mantel for me, please?”

“Yes, ma'am. Let me find the hammer and nails.” He trotted off toward the garage, which was piled high with furniture boxes and empty shopping bags.

Monique turned slowly around in the living room. Her living room, with furniture she'd picked out while laughing with Felicia. Her home, her family, her place.

All the furniture had been delivered earlier and she, CoCo and Felicia had ordered Luc and Spence around in the arrangement and rearranging. Several men from Spence's congregation had come by to provide muscle. Now, with everyone gone save her family, the house seemed in order, aside from the decor touches she'd add later.

Luc wandered through the house, inspecting.

She paused, watching him move from room to room. What could he be thinking? Was he remembering his great-uncle's things here? Was the memory of the harrowing moment when his uncle had turned on him and tried to kill him haunting him now?

He stepped back into the living room, a smile on his face. “It looks really nice, Monique. It's uniquely you.”

Her face muscles quivered into a big grin. “I'm gl—”

Berrk. Berrk. Berrk.

CoCo spun toward the front windows, now boasting new drapes. “What in the world is that?”

“My car alarm.” Monique rushed toward the door.

Luc grabbed her arm. “Let me and Spence check it out.” They hurried out to the car, Monique hot on their heels, followed by CoCo and Felicia.

No one was around the SUV, or even in sight. Monique went to the keypad on the door and punched in the numbers. The screeching ceased.

Luc sighed. “I thought I told y'all to wait inside.”

“And we're so good at obeying, right?” CoCo grinned.

Monique just stared at her vehicle. Her back two tires were flat, having been slit. A note was tucked under the back windshield wiper. A note with one word, made in big, black, block letters.

“Oh, no,” Felicia whimpered.

Spence grabbed his wife and Monique gently by the arms, turning them toward the door. “Get inside.” He nodded to Luc, who already had CoCo by the hand. “We'll call the deputy from there.”

Monique tugged free of Spence. “Let me get the letter.”

“No!” Luc moved to block her path. He lowered his tone. “It's evidence. Gary will need to dust it for prints and such.”

Right. She knew that. Just couldn't think clearly at the moment.