Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 02 - Skeletons of the Atchafalaya (19 page)

Aunt Ezeline, her hair in disarray, hurried after us when
she saw us ascending the stairs. She grabbed Bailey’s arm.
“Where you go, old man?”

He brushed her aside. “This is man’s business, woman.
You not interfere.”

She looked up at me. “Tony? You tell me.”

We were halfway up the stairs to the second floor. Bailey
growled over his shoulder, “He can tell you, woman, but
it do no good.”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Ezeline. Bailey just wants to show
me through his room.”

Her face twisted in fear. “You mean to search his room?
Why?”

I tried to calm her. “No big deal. He just wants to prove he doesn’t have the money missing from A.D.‘s money
clip.

“No.” She screeched and dashed ahead of Bailey, throwing herself in front of the door. “No. You don’t got to do
this. The law say you don’t got to say or do nothing that
will get you in trouble. You hear me, old man?”

About that time, I was wishing I had not been in the
kitchen when Uncle Bailey came in. I think I would have
preferred being in the freezer with A.D. than standing here
listening to them argue, especially over an issue I had
raised.

“Out of the way, woman.” He brushed her aside and
opened the door. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
“Okay, Tony. Come see.” He picked up his suitcase and
plopped it down on the bed. “Come see.”

With Ezeline moaning and whining behind us, I halfheartedly fumbled through the suitcase, expecting nothing.

You can imagine my surprise when I came across a wad
of hundred-dollar bills thick enough to choke the proverbial
horse tucked away in one of his socks.

All Uncle Bailey could do was stare dumbly at the roll
of bills while Ezeline wailed and moaned.

The roll contained five thousand, eight hundred dollars.
I left it with Grandma Ola, knowing no one in his right
mind would try to take it from her.

“Me, I don’t think Bailey do it,” she whispered to me as
she slipped the roll in one of the pockets of her dress. “I
believe Ezeline do it before I believe Bailey.”

I had to agree with her. I had the distinct feeling Ezeline
knew the money was there. No proof, but she sure pitched
a hissy fit when she heard we were going to search the
room.

And I had no problem accepting the logic behind her
murdering A.D., hiding the money, and then revealing the
money clip to put blame on her husband. What didn’t make
sense is if she were bright enough to be so devious, why hide the money in one of his socks? And just as perplexing
was her motivation for committing such horrendous acts.

To be honest, I was becoming more and more confused.

Janice was awake. She smiled briefly. “Storm started
back up, huh?” When she saw the frown on my face, she
added. “I woke up earlier when it was quiet. Was that the
eye of the storm?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “That was it.”

She stretched, then, dismissing the storm, patted her
stomach. “I’m hungry.”

Several family members had gathered in the kitchen,
drinking coffee and chowing down on anything they could
find. Janice opened the refrigerator.

I called to her. “Any ham left?”

She pulled out a plastic platter covered with wrinkled
aluminum foil. “That’s it,” she said, removing the foil and
revealing a shoulder bone with only a few chunks of ham
clinging to it. “Want me to cut some off for you?”

I stared at the pieces of ham clinging to the bone. An
unsettling feeling swept over me, the same feeling I had
experienced when Giselle mentioned slicing the ham. A
series of strobelike images flashed through my head from
the day before.

“Tony!” Janice’s voice cut into my thoughts.

“Huh?” I jerked my head up.

She laughed. “You want some ham?”

I shook my head, my hunger suddenly forgotten. “Never
mind. Not that much left. Let the kids have it.” I reached
for my laptop on the cabinet top. “I need to do some work
in the parlor,” I said. “Won’t take long.”

She smiled brightly. “I’ll be in here.”

I hated lying to her. It wasn’t work I needed to do, but
a quiet spot where I would be undisturbed. The sight of the
ham bone had suggested a whole new perspective on the
case. And then I remembered a remark Grandma Ola had
made, which at this moment did seem rather apropos.

But I had to think.

Before I took a step, I felt a vibration in the wooden
floor at my feet. I glanced back at Janice. From the expression on her face, she had felt it also. She frowned at
me.

Then the house shuddered, followed by a terrible shriek
of splitting timbers. The mansion groaned like something
live, and vibrations began once again, as if the house itself
were shivering in fear.

Uncle Walter pressed his face to the kitchen door in an
effort to peer through the glass insert in the storm door. He
shook his head. “Too dark.”

No sooner had he looked away from the door than a
deafening roar filled the kitchen. The entire house seemed
to shake, and the storm door suddenly vanished. The wall
beside the door popped and appeared to bend outward.
There came a sharp crack, and the wall straightened. Moments later, another roar echoed through the kitchen, followed by a loud splash of water.

For some reason, the sound of the rain against the house
grew sharper.

The rain and wind beat at the kitchen door, driving water
under it.

Janice screamed. I pulled her to me.

She screamed again. “What’s happening? What’s happening?”

I shoved her into the dining area and herded the rest of
the family from the kitchen. “I don’t know, but stay out of
here until we find out.”

Uncle Walter was shining a flashlight out the window in
the kitchen door. He looked around as I approached. “The
veranda, she fall over here too,” he said, nodding toward
the cylindrical white beam struggling to penetrate the silver
rain. “See. She isn’t there no more.”

As I peered into the howling, screaming storm, I couldn’t
help wondering if it were the wind that had destroyed the
veranda or the water eating under the foundation, causing
it to collapse and bring down the veranda.

We could handle the wind, but for the first time, I was
worried about the mansion. If the coursing water had ripped
out a hole beneath one corner of the house, the entire structure could come crashing down.

Janice pushed past me. “Here,” she said, kneeling and
pressing towels under the door to stem the flow of water.
“Someone’s going to fall and hurt themselves in here.”

“Thanks.” I grinned at her, at her commonsense practicality in the middle of a raging storm.

“Look,” Janice shouted, pointing to the base of the wall
beside the door.

Water seeped out from the base of the wall. I frowned,
puzzled, then suddenly realized just what had happened.

“What’s wrong?” Uncle Patric paused in the doorway
between the kitchen and parlor.

I motioned him to us as I spoke to Walter. “Remember
that second noise we heard?” Uncle Walter nodded. I
pointed to the section of the interior wall under which water
was seeping even faster now. “Part of the brick wall outside
must have fallen off. That was that last loud splash. Had
to be. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be getting this water.”

“What?” Patric took another step toward the wall.

“There,” I said, pointing out at the water seeping in under
the wall. “When the veranda gave way, it pulled down part
of the brick wall outside.”

Janice leaned against me, wrapping her arms through
mine.

Walter let loose with a string of curses. “This whole
place, she fall in. Them three in the freezer could just up
and float away.”

Janice gasped.

I shook my head. Time to lie again. “I don’t think so.
This old house is pretty solid. I think it’ll make it.” Then
I thought about the three in the freezer.

Leave it to Ozzy, I told myself ruefully, staring down at
the water spreading across the kitchen floor. He always
managed to talk others into handling any problems that came his way. And there he was now, nice and peaceful,
and here we were, battling a Category Three hurricane and
trying to keep him from floating away.

Go figure.

The darkness faded slightly as the sun rose, providing us
enough light to see the wreckage left by the collapse of the
entire veranda along the south side of the house as well as
a ten-by-twenty-foot section of brick wall that had fallen.

Patric turned to Uncle George who was studying the wall
beside the kitchen door. “What you think? This old house
going to fall in?”

George stroked the two-day beard on his angular face.
“Non, cher.” He laid his hand on the doorjamb. “This house
built good. Foundation deep. It stand. It be here when we
come back next time,” he added. “You wait and see.”

I admired his optimism, but questioned his foresight.

Janice and I left my uncles in the kitchen. I crossed the
parlor to Grandma Ola and Mom. Grandma Ola was still
ensconced on her couch sipping her morning coffee and
nibbling at her toast. Mom sat at the opposite end of the
couch. Both smiled when they saw us approaching.

I gave them each a light kiss on the cheek. “How was
your night?”

Mom said she slept fine despite the weather, but
Grandma Ola started complaining about the wind, the rain,
the hard couch, and the odors that were beginning to permeate the mansion. If I’d let her, she would have complained for thirty minutes, but I didn’t have time.

The ham bone had given me some ideas, and I needed
to find a few answers.

Another blast of rain and wind struck the old house,
rattling the windows and banging the shutters.

I cleared my throat. “Hold on, Grandma Ola. Before you
keep on fussing, I need you to explain something to me,
something you said about A.D. and lolande.”

She clamped her lips shut. Her brows furrowed. I figured
she was annoyed because I had stopped her before she had
the chance to get all her complaints off her chest.

I read from my small notebook. “Day before yesterday
when we were talking about A.D., lolande, and Ozzy, you
said, `They trash. They belong together.’ ” I glanced at Mom.
“And, Mom, you told her not to say that. You remember?”

Neither answered, so I continued. “What I want to know,
Grandma, is what you meant by that. What did they do that
prompted you to say that?”

Grandma played dumb, a technique she practiced from
time to time over the years when she found herself in a
predicament brought on by her acerbic tongue or suspicious
mind or simply by her gossipy soul. She shook her head.
“Me, 1 -don’t say nothing like that, Tony.”

“No?” I held my notebook in front of her face and
pointed to the words. “Here is exactly what the two of you
said. And you went on to say….” I read from my notes. “I just hope they say plenty rosaries when they was alive.
Nobody gots the money to say enough masses for them
now they dead.”

She glared up at me. I had her nailed, and she knew it.
I grinned. She could never resist one of my grins. The
twinkle came back into her eyes. “Sometimes I wish you
never go off to college, Tony. You think you so smart.”

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “The only reason I’m so smart is because you and Mom are smart. Most
of the men in our family are dumber than tree stumps.”

She cackled, and Mom smiled broadly.

I got right back to business. “So, what did they do that
prompted you to say that?”

Mom and Grandma put their heads together and whispered.

I glanced at Janice who arched her eyebrows and
shrugged.

Mom cleared her throat. I couldn’t help noticing the
blush on her cheeks. She motioned us closer. “Those things,
we don’t talk about. It best nobody never know,” she said
in a whisper.

I whispered back, “You’ve got to tell me. Things are
going on here that I can’t figure out. For the sake of the
family, tell me what you two are trying so hard to keep
secret. If it turns out to signify nothing, I’ll forget it.”

Grandma Ola and Mom exchanged looks. They glanced
at Janice, then Grandma grunted. “Tell the boy.”

With a resigned sigh, my mother motioned us even
closer. “I don’t want no one to hear, you understand?”

“I understand.”

Mom glanced back at Grandma Ola, who frowned as if
she were having second thoughts, but then she nodded emphatically. Mom took a deep breath. “Your uncle and aunt,
they be different than the rest of the family. I think it be
the money that make them different. For long time, many
years, they go on trips to New Orleans. Maybe other places.
But they say they like New Orleans. From what family say, sometimes they take Bonni, sometimes Giselle, sometimes
all go. Five year back, about the time you take new job,
Tony, something happen. We don’t know what, but they
take no more trips together. Giselle, she stay down in
Rayne where she work in church. The others, they go some,
but then Bonni, she leave, A.D. and lolande, they never
find her. They say terrible, hurtful things about Giselle.
Giselle, she don’t say nothing, but she hurt. Her mama,
Affina, she don’t do nothing to help the girl.”