Night Magic (36 page)

"Sheriff Triche has issued a warrant for his
arrest. Seems the theory is Paul was trying blackmail, or had
blackmailed, Trosclair in some way. They argued, maybe Trosclair
refused to his demands for more, and Paul killed him." Gralin
blinked behind his bifocals.

"That don't make no sense to me. Paul been a
successful engineer for five years. I mean makin' good money, a lot
of money, not just gettin' by. No sir, that don't sound like the
Paul I know." Antoine slapped the counter top.

"You don't know him, Poppy. None of us did,
especially me." Savannah brushed her eyes quickly.

"Then there's the question of why he left the
country so suddenly. And they say he had a violent argument with
Claude before he left. It looks very bad, Antoine," Gralin
said.

"I been on this earth a long time, and I been
judgin' people a long time, too. He may have been wrong not to say
somethin' to you, cher, but I'd swear that boy ain't no
blackmailer. And he ain't no killer, either," Tante Marie
pronounced firmly.

"He kept who he was a secret. He put on a
good show and I fell for it. Everything he ever said was a lie,
everything he ever did was only an act." Savannah's voice choked as
she rushed into the office. Charice followed her.

"Sugar, come on now. It's okay to cry. That
dirty dog." Charice hugged Savannah.

"God, Charice. I feel like such a fool. He
used me. It was nothing but a damn game to him." Unable to hold
back any longer, she let go. Tears coursed down her cheeks.

"I know, babe. I know."

"Pretending every time he touched me."
Savannah shook with agony. Now even the beautiful memories of their
nights of passion seemed sordid, empty of real meaning.

Charice patted her back. Seeing Antoine enter
the office, she released her hold. Nodding to him over Savannah's
bowed head, she pulled back.

"Cher?" Antoine reached for Savannah. When
she did not rebuff him, he folded her in his arms against his
chest. Her cries were muffled in his shirt front.

"I'm going home now, sugar. Sam is coming
over and I wouldn't want to miss this evening for the world,"
Charice said, her eyes glittering with outrage. "I'll call you
later, okay?"

"O--kay," Savannah hiccupped her reply. She
stepped away from her father wiping her eyes and nose. "I'm all
right."

"Go on home, cher. Me and Marie gone be here.
Take some time to yourself." Antoine stroked her hair.

"I'd just go nuts thinking. No, keeping busy
is what I need. Here, I've got to figure up our taxes, make some
journal entries, and look at this filing that's piled up." Savannah
busied herself moving papers around.

Antoine kissed her cheek before going back
into the shop. Savannah stared at the papers before her until they
became blurred by her tears.

Chapter 15

"LaMar, man, tell Charice what you've been
telling me." Sam sounded desperate.

Charice stood, legs apart, fists on her hips.
Examining LaMar from head to toe, her whole expression said she was
not impressed. Dressed in a huge t-shirt, baggy pants worn low on
his hips without a belt, and expensive high top athletic shoes,
LaMar grinned at her. He wore long dred locks.

"Hey, mama. Whuz up."

"Who is this?" Charice spoke to Sam without
taking her eyes off Lamar.

"My man, LaMar Zeno. Best Black private cop
in the U S of A." Sam tapped fists with Lamar to punctuate his
statement.

"Thanks, brother." LaMar dipped one shoulder
low to assume a “I’m too cool” stance.

"Excuse us, please." Charice took him by the
arm dragging him into her kitchen. "Is this a joke?"

"No, baby. I swear, LaMar is a licensed
private investigator. He worked for Pinkerton close to six years
before striking out on his own. He's got some information that will
clear Paul."

"Uh-huh." Charice pressed her lips
together.

"Look when you agreed to see me, you promised
to listen. LaMar has sources all over south Louisiana. He really
could clear Paul." Sam put a hand on her arm pleading his case.

"What's going to clear him with Savannah? He
lied to her and you lied to me." Charice shook her finger close to
his nose.

"Now, baby, I couldn't betray the confidence
of my best friend. I told you, his daddy didn't want anybody to
know. Paul was just curious about the Trosclairs. Mr. Honorè had a
series of mild strokes, then a more serious one only a few weeks
ago. Mr. Honorè was real upset that all kinds of ugly things were
going to be said about his mama. He made Paul swear not to ever let
anyone find out. Paul wouldn't do anything to hurt his daddy, and
definitely not for money."

"But you got that contract because of
Trosclair."

"We didn't know that! Look, look, Trosclair
pulled strings because he already knew who Paul was before he even
got to town. Now why would Paul blackmail him? That doesn't make
any sense. Paul told me Trosclair had known who he was from the
start. LaMar found out the private investigator he'd hired was only
updating a thick file. Trosclair had been keeping up with Paul's
father and grandmother for years."

"I don't know--"

"Ten minutes, just ten minutes. Come on,
Charice."

"Ten minutes, that's all. Can't believe I'm
doing this." She walked ahead of him back to the living room.

"Go on, LaMar. Tell her." Sam sat next to
Charice on the love seat.

"Uh-umm, let me see here." LaMar dug deep
into a pocket of his oversized pants and brought out a tiny wire
bound note pad. "Claude Trosclair has been using Crescent City
Security since the late fifties for various jobs. They do okay, but
they kinda weak when it comes to the tricky cases. Anyways, they
didn't have much trouble finding Marguerite Ricard and keeping him
informed of her situation. Seems the old man kinda flipped out when
he found out she was married to Henry Honorè, got stinking drunk.
Anyways, he had them offer her money. He also wanted to see 'em
both. She told 'em hell no and to stay out of her life. He got
messed up again but he didn't try to contact her after that. Now we
fast forward to four years ago. He started using his contacts to
refer clients to you two for business, done very discreetly of
course." Speaking in a factual tone, he had only briefly glanced at
his notes during his narrative.

"See, now do you believe me?" Sam asked
hopefully.

Charice did not answer but squinted
thoughtfully. LaMar put the pad back into his pocket, sat down and
crossed his legs.

"Something funny is going on with the
business, Big River Company, I mean. Seems grandson Quentin has
been making substantial investments," LaMar said.

"So what? He's a rich boy." Charice
shrugged.

"But he doesn't have that kind of money to
draw from his trust fund or his stocks. He’s put up several million
with no decrease in his assets." LaMar paused to let that sink
in.

"And he didn't get the money from grandpapa."
Charice sat forward, now intrigued.

"You got it. Another thing, though I haven't
pinned this down for sure, I think this Kyle Singleton knows about
Quentin's transactions and is blackmailing him. My sources tell me
suddenly, the guy is calling the shots at Batton Chemical. Why
would greedy little Quentin allow that?" LaMar lifted an eyebrow at
them.

"But how does this prove that Paul didn't
have a reason to kill Trosclair? I mean, the Sheriff can say all
that has nothing to do with Paul having motive, means, and
opportunity." Charice sat back.

"Wait, it gets even more interesting. A
reliable source inside the drug trade says Master Quentin was
earning those large amounts of cash moving cocaine. I also think
Quentin found about Paul about a month ago."

"Wow!" Charice's eyes opened wide.

"Now, so far we've got two possible
scenarios. One, Claude found out about Quentin's embezzling and
drug deals, they fight and the old man gets capped. Two, Quentin
finds out Claude has plans to give some of his estate to Paul and
his father, they fight, ba-dam! The old man gets it."

"My Lord." Charice lets out a long puff.

"There's more, but I need to check out a few
more details," LaMar said.

"More?"

"Look, I'm on my way."LaMar stood up. "I got
some work to do on another case. I'll be in touch later, home boy."
With a bouncy walk, he went out to a low riding, electric blue
small pickup truck parked in front of Charice's house. The rhythmic
thumping of a reggae rap tune blared as he started the engine. Head
bobbing to the music, he drove off.

"Savannah should hear this, babe." Sam
returned to the living room after locking the door behind
LaMar.

"She's not going to talk to you. Poor thing
is numb. She's trying to pretend she doesn't care, but it's obvious
she's still crazy for Paul. Now she's convinced that she didn't
mean anything to him but a temporary good time while he got next to
the family fortune."

"She'll listen to you. At least try," Sam
said.

"I've got to admit, I'm not so sure as I was
before hearing all this." Charice drummed her fingers rapidly on
her knee.

"So, you'll try?" Sam put an arm around
her.

"Okay, but don't get your hopes up. Like I
said, Savannah is pretty bitter."

*****

"That no good son of a bitch!" Quentin paced
the floor of the apartment.

"Idiot, he's watching us and you bring me
here?" LaShaun peered through the drawn drapes at the street
below.

"He already knows. I hardly think sneaking
around will work at this point," Quentin snapped.

"Singleton didn't mention anything about the
drugs?" LaShaun gulped down a swallow of expensive cognac.

"No, but it's only a matter of time. You can
bet he's snooping around for more dirt to use so he can sink his
hooks in me even deeper." Quentin started to light a joint.

"Put that down, damn it. This is no time to
get stoned." LaShaun snatched it from his lips.

"You're having a drink," Quentin
protested.

"Unlike you, I don't drink until I pass out.
Now shut up so I can think." LaShaun tapped a long, multi-colored
fingernail on the side of her glass. "Tell me again exactly what he
said."

"He wants me to announce at the next board
meeting that I'm stepping aside to let him assume the CEO position.
The reason I'm to give is that I need some time off to deal with
grandfather's death and to look after my grandmother. Filthy
bastard."

"If you had been more careful this wouldn't
have happened. Do you know how much money I'll lose because of your
stupid carelessness?" LaShaun put down the glass with a bang
splashing cognac on the coffee table.

"Why the hell didn't you come up with some
brilliant ideas before now, huh? You've been in on this thing from
the start so don't give me that crap!"

"Okay, let's cool it. We won't get anywhere
fighting each other. We need to spend our time coming up with a
plan to handle this." She stared straight ahead for several
minutes. "When is the next board meeting?"

"Not for three and a half weeks."

"Your contact Juan Carlos, when are you
supposed to give him an answer about going in on another deal?"

"About two weeks from now. He says he won't
know all the details until then. The Colombian government's latest
crackdown has been very effective in putting a real kink in his
plans. His partners in Bogota are lying low. What’s that got to do
with this?"

"So he'll have time on his hands. And he
won't be happy to know that someone is threatening his operation
here as well."

"What are you talking about?" Quentin still
paced.

"Singleton, he's your silent partner. He
wants more of a cut or else." LaShaun picked up her drink again,
her lips curving in a slow smile.

"Singleton? But you and I--"

"Singleton," LaShaun hissed through clenched
teeth, "He wants you out of the deal. He's forced you to give him
most of the profit from the last shipment. He's threatened to
expose your activities to the police. He's arranged it so that all
the evidence points to you, and Juan Carlos. He knows all about the
operation and can do real damage unless he gets a bigger
share."

"How will I get him to believe me? These
people aren't stupid. They can check these things. They can access
all kinds of computer systems." Quentin frowned in
concentration.

"Perfect. It should be easy to arrange it to
look as if money has gone into an account for Singleton. To make it
seem as if he made those electronic investments with huge amounts
of money. Printouts you can give to your friend as proof." LaShaun
spoke in a hard deliberate tone staring at him intently.

"But they'll..." A vicious smiled curled his
lip up at the thought.

"Yes, they will." LaShaun nodded, her eyes
shining with malevolence. "Here's to international trade partners."
LaShaun handed him a drink. Their glasses clinked as they came
together.

*****

"Nice to see you again, Ms. Collins. Bad
news," LaMar said, tucking designer sun glasses into the pocket of
his coat. Today he wore an expensive dove grey suit. His hair was
neatly cut giving him the look of a young accountant on his way to
work.

"How bad?" Sam seemed to hold his
breath.After picking her up at home, Sam and Charice met him at a
restaurant in Breaux Bridge afraid that having him visit Beau Chene
would attract attention. The late afternoon sun slanted across the
table set out on a wooden patio overlooking Bayou Vermillion.

"One Beverly Mills, office manager at Batton
Chemical, has given the Sheriff a statement that she overheard Paul
fighting with Trosclair the night before they found his body.
According to her, they were having it out, shouting at each." LaMar
spoke in a crisp manner.