Night Magic (37 page)

"Oh shit." Charice bit her lower lip.

"Oh shit is right." Sam's face was grim.

"Yes, we certainly have a difficult task
ahead of us. However, there is more damning information about young
Quentin. But excuse me while I make a quick phone call." LaMar's
phone had issued a quick musical tone. He read a text message, gave
Charice a proper smile and then left.

"Good thing I wasn't able to get Savannah to
come. This would have blown up any chance to convince her that Paul
didn't do it," Charice said.

"Now I have good news." LaMar, true to his
word, was only gone a few minutes. "Quentin and a-- LaShaun
Rousselle have been having an affair for some time now. Know
her?"

"LaShaun? Have mercy!"

"Seems that they have been using a New
Orleans apartment owned by Batton Chemical for their trysts. An
unconventional relationship is the most delicate way to describe
it." LaMar sniffed as if offended.

"Like what? Freaky stuff?" Sam sat forward
eagerly.

"Calm down or I'm going to pour this ice tea
in your lap," Charice warned.

"LaShaun's financial status has dramatically
improved in the last year. An indication that she has some
knowledge of Quentin's business dealings. One other thing, Quentin
has no alibi for the hours leading up to his grandfather's body
being discovered. According to the housekeeper, Louise, she thinks
he was home right before Claude Trosclair left that evening to
return to his office."

"Damn, how did you find that out?" Charice's
stared at him in amazement.

"A cousin's friend's sister-in-law went to
school with her daughter," LaMar said offhandedly. "The point is,
he had motive, opportunity, and means."

"Yes, but between Paul and Quentin Trosclair
who do you think the Sheriff is more likely to arrest?" Sam
said.

"I know. However, there is encouraging news
of a different sort. I think Singleton should be very concern about
his health these days. Word is out that a certain Juan Carlos, not
his real name naturally, is quite upset with him. This man is the
most powerful drug distributor between Houston and Biloxi with
connections to a Colombian cartel. Not someone you want to get
upset with you, not at all."

"But what's that got to do with all this?"
Sam frowned.

"Maybe nothing. However, it may be in our
best interest to assist Mr. Singleton in avoiding any serious
injury."

"Huh?" Charice and Sam spoke together,
exchanging puzzled looks.

"Leave it to me. I’ll keep you informed. Nice
seeing you again, Ms. Collins. Sam." LaMar dipped his head towards
them. He walked purposefully to a white Volvo parked at a curb
nearby.

"LaMar's got a plan." Sam grinned widely.

"I'm just as bumfuzzled as can be. How is
knowing about Singleton getting some drug king pissed off,
LaShaun's strange sex life, and Quentin's finances going to help
get Paul out of this?"

"I don't know, but LaMar does."

They watched him go through a ritual of
putting on the sunglasses, snapping on his seat belt, and adjusting
his rear view mirrors before driving off.

"How the hell did he do that?" Charice shook
her head.

"Do what, babe?"

"Go from Rasta home boy to a member of the
Black bourgeoisie in three days. And a Volvo for goodness sakes. I
bet he even hired a wife and two kids."

Chapter 16

Paul was wound up. Despite the long hours of
traveling, he wasn't fatigued at all. His mind raced, not with
thoughts of the danger of being convicted for a murder he did not
commit. But of what Savannah must be thinking now, hearing about
his relationship with Trosclair. He closed his eyes picturing her
reaction to the news. Surely that would push her into Devin's arms.
Paul thought of them together, Devin touching her body. He pounded
the arm rest furiously.

"You all right?" The chubby businessman
sitting next to him was startled out of his nap. His watery blue
eyes mirrored his alarm.

"I'm sorry. Sure, I'm okay." Paul made a
conscious effort to slow his breathing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're approaching the
New Orleans International Airport. We hope you've enjoyed your
flight with us. Please bring your seats to an upright position,
turn off all electronic devices, and fasten your seat belts." The
bland voice of the stewardess droned on with weather information
about New Orleans.

"Paul, over here." Sam waved his arms to get
his attention. Wading through the crowds, they grabbed each other
in a quick embrace. It was slow going, waiting for the luggage to
be unloaded then watching for it to appear bumping along with
dozens of others on the conveyor. They didn’t even try to talk
about anything. Finally, they were headed for a hotel room Sam had
rented in Metairie.

"I figured we needed to buy some time for
LaMar to dig up more stuff," Sam answered when Paul wanted to know
why they weren't going to Beau Chene.

"You could get in trouble, man. Just take me
to the Sheriff so I can turn myself in. I don't want you to take
any kind of fall for me."

"Two days. That's all we need. Why didn't you
wait another week like I told you anyway?"

"Because I got tired of dodging the Kuwait
authorities, then the Saudi authorities. Besides, what difference
would it make anyway? I'm the one and only suspect."

"They only want you for questioningl.
Probably why the police weren't at the airport to arrest you. But
the minute you set foot back in Crowley or Beau Chene, you'll get
invited in for a little talk and be charged with murder I'd bet.
Man, don't worry. LaMar has done a helluva job finding out stuff.
Such as your cousin Quentin's been into drug trafficking big
time."

"Unbelievable!"

For the next few hours, Sam gave Paul a full
account of everything LaMar had discovered thus far. They were
eating take out Chinese food on the small table in the hotel room
as Sam finished his story.

"So that's about it. LaMar has got something
else in mind, but he hasn't told me the specifics. Said it would be
better if I didn't know."

"Heavy stuff." Paul had only picked at his
shrimp with vegetables. "Have you seen Savannah?" He looked down
pushing his food around in circles.

"Uh-uh. Charice has though. She didn't take
it too well, if that's what you want to know."

"Who gives a damn anyway." Paul threw the
plastic fork down so hard it bounced to the floor. "She's got Devin
to console her. He's still in Beau Chene I bet."

"Yeah but--"

"Which means she's been with him, too. Don't
lie to me, Sam." Paul stood over him.

"Maybe once, but--" Sam finished weakly.

"That's what I thought," Paul said, his voice
heavy with bitterness.

"Calm down. I'm on your side." Sam held up
both hands, palms turned out.

"I'm sorry. I feel like the world is closing
in on me. Like I'm trapped in some nightmare and can't wake
up."

"It's all right, man. I understand. We're
going to make it through this, I swear." Sam squeezed his
shoulder.

"I need to visit my parents." Paul turned to
him.

"No, Paul. Stay here at least another day.
They gotta be watching their house."

"You sure my father doesn't know all
this."

"Your mama says he doesn't. I don't know how,
but they've kept him away from the news and newspapers. Of course
between his medication and going to the rehab clinic for physical
therapy, he stays pretty exhausted."

"What about my sisters and brothers?"

"You kidding? They insisted on splitting the
cost of LaMar's fee with me. I told them I could afford it, but
well you know how family is."

"I know," Paul said, a catch in his
voice.

"Get some rest, okay? I'll be back in the
morning."

"Sam." Paul grabbed his arm. "Thanks."

They embraced roughly, then Sam left. For
three hours, Paul prowled the around the room trying to unwind. He
tried turning on the television, listening to the radio, reading.
Nothing helped. Looking at the clock, he decided he could wait no
longer. They had passed a car rental office a block from the hotel.
If he hurried he could just make it before they closed.

*****

"Your delicacies are a hit on the Quality and
Bargains Shopping channel, Tante Marie." Savannah held up another
order faxed in that morning. "They want more for what they're
calling the `Gourmet Taste' segment."

"That's good." Tante Marie continued making
up a gift basket.

"Poppy's carved animals went like hotcakes
and they want to feature them in another four months. Getting us on
that shopping channel was brilliant, if I do say so myself."

"Um-hum."

"We're posting healthy profits from the shop
with the publicity. A couple of tour operators called to tell me
that they've even had a few requests to put us on their
routes."

"That's nice."

"Well don't get too excited. You'll get your
blood pressure up." Savannah put down her pencil. "Let's have
it."

"Have what?" Tante Marie gave her a guileless
look.

"You've got something on your mind I can
tell. You've been quiet as a mouse for the last week. Come on, spit
it out."

"You oughta be shame, that's all. Charice
been your friend since you was a baby, and you won't trust her
enough to at least do one little thing she ask." Tante Marie shook
her finger at Savannah, her reticent demeanor disappearing in
seconds.

"Oh boy."

"Don't `Oh boy' me, missy. You bein'
hardheaded as your papa."

"Why is everybody defending him? He lied, it
may be he killed his own grandfather because he couldn't extort
money from him, and he's a fugitive. But I'm the bad guy. What is
wrong with this picture?" Savannah threw up both hands.

"I'll tell you what's wrong. You so set on
him being guilty that you don't wanna hear no other side."

"Hey, now." Leon came in. Noticing the tense
silence he put away his backpack. Picking up the list of
deliveries, he got the keys from Savannah. "I'm gone."

"You know I understand how you feel, cher.
But I also know you can't sleep good no more. You ain't eatin'
hardly nothin' these days, and you can't tell me you happy."

"Okay, I'm miserable. Satisfied? I've been
called a jezebel, lied to, called a liar, and dumped on generally.
This from the man you want me believe in. Well, how could I have
been so blind? You are absolutely right, I should give him the
benefit of the doubt," Savannah snapped.

"Good, cher. I'll call Charice now. She can
have that detective fella come by this evening." Tante Marie
pretended not to notice the sarcasm. She snatched up the telephone
and began punching the numbers.

"O-ooh, I could--, you--, uhh." Savannah
groaned in exasperation. She stomped back into the office.

*****

"Son, you got no business here. Sam said you
was to stay away." Reba now wore a worried frown after jubilantly
welcoming her son with a shower of kisses.

"I couldn't stay in that hotel room another
minute. I had to see how papa is doing."

"The sheriff been here askin' for you. They
probably watchin' the house." Reba wrung her hands.

"I came through the woods out back and down
the old path. Nobody saw me. How is he?"

"Pretty good. Lately he's lost his appetite.
But other than that, he's fine."

"And he doesn't know anything about--"

"No, thank the Lord. I been keepin' him
watching them cable channels that don't have no news programs. He
ain't even missed it." Reba patted her son's arm. "Go on in there.
He gone be so glad to see you."

"Hi, papa. You looking better every time I
see you." Paul kissed his forehead.

"Hey, boy. You know you lyin' to me." Charles
laughed in spite of himself. He sat in his favorite over stuff
recliner dressed in a light blue sweat suit. Gunfire came from the
television as an old western movie played.

"You something else, looking all sporty."
Paul tugged his father's sleeve playfully.

"Yep, your mama got me four or five sets of
these. At first I told her I wasn't gone wear 'em. But shoot, they
is some comfortable yeah. See here?" Charles worked his left arm,
flexing it out and back.

"That's great, papa. You'll be out fishing in
no time."

"I got news for you, me and your brother
Sheldon already plannin' to go after some sac-a-lait at False
River. Now, how you gettin' along? Got what you wanted outta that
trip?"

"Yeah, I learned a lot. Kuwait is a testing
ground for some of the most innovative technology dealing with
chemical clean-up."

"That so. Ain't that somethin'. Still didn't
tell me how you doin'."

"I'm okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me, you think I'm senile?"

"No, of course not. Why--"

"You think I'm stupid?"

"Papa--"

"Well, answer me."

"No, papa. I don’t think you’re senile or
stupid."

"Then talk to me like you know I got
commonsense. Claude Trosclair is dead an' they think you did it.
Now, I ain't faultin' your mama or your sisters and brothers. They
was tryin' to protect me thinkin' I was too sick to take that kinda
news. That's all right. But I'm doin' a whole lot better, you just
got back home, and I want you to tell me 'bout it." Charles waited
patiently, watching the internal conflict of his son play itself
out in his facial expressions.

"Since it's obvious you know and it hasn't
caused a setback in your recovery, I might as well be truthful.
Right?" Paul sighed. "But tell me, how in the world did you find
out?"

"Your Mama forgot about them news updates.
Even the cable channels in other cities are carryin' 'em . Local
news from a New Orleans station is comin' on that all news channel
now. One day she went to answer the phone and left the remote
control where I could reach it."