“Very funny. But seriously. Here Electra was going to inherit all this money, and now her stepbrother’s dead. Not only that, but Nelle told me she wanted to sell some of her family’s treasures to pay for Wesley’s funeral.”
“His funeral?” Lance still looked confused, as if the tidbits were coming too fast to process. “Really? But Wesley’s father is a big-time corporate attorney up in Baton Rouge. Why wouldn’t he pay for the funeral?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something people usually do if the victim’s family can afford to handle it. I don’t understand it either.”
“Looks like we’re going to have an interesting chat tonight,” he said.
With that, we both returned our attention to the mansion. Everything looked so calm on the outside. A neat row of hedges passed under the staircase, and the two water towers provided perfect bookends, one on either side.
No one driving past would ever suspect such a pretty building held such dark secrets.
* * * *
By the time Lance and I arrived in the sunroom, most of the bridal party was already there. Several bridesmaids perched wearily on the wicker furniture, their chins propped on their palms, while the groomsmen either leaned against a wall or sat on the floor. Even Darryl was there, although by now he’d changed out of his coveralls and into a clean work shirt and jeans.
No one spoke. Whereas before, people tried to chat about this, that, or the other thing, now they didn’t even try. It was as if everyone wanted to get off the property as soon as possible and forget this day ever happened.
Lorelei sat on the sofa again, next to Jamie. Even Violet Carmichael was there, her back ramrod straight as she sat next to her husband.
Lance walked into the room ahead of me, and everyone’s gaze turned to him when he made his way to the front. “Thank you all for coming tonight. I know it’s been a long day. I’m sure everyone wants to get out of here.”
“Tell that to Buck.” It was one of the groomsmen, and he spoke just loudly enough for everyone to hear. “That guy didn’t have a choice about whether to leave or not.”
“I heard that,” Lance said. “I’m sure you all know by now we took the men who kidnapped Buck Liddell into custody. They both had outstanding warrants, so they’ll be spending the night in jail.”
“But who were they?” It was Sheridan, and she sounded baffled.
“They were hired by some bookie in Baton Rouge. We know the guy. He runs an illegal gambling operation at Evangeline Downs Race Track.”
Foster Carmichael stirred. “Did you say Evangeline Downs?”
“Yes.” Lance turned his way. “The guy’s the head of a large bookmaking operation. They bet on horses down there. Why…do you know the place?”
Before Foster could speak, his wife clamped her hand on his knee.
“No, of course not. He doesn’t know anything about a racetrack,” she said. “Don’t pay any attention to Foster. He’s very confused right now.”
“Is that true, Mr. Carmichael?” Lance asked. “Or do you have some information that could help us out?”
With great effort, Foster swatted his wife’s hand away. “Yes, I’ve heard of the racetrack. Everyone in Louisiana knows about it.”
“But did your son go there a lot?” Lance asked.
“I’m afraid so. It’s no secret Wesley had a gambling problem. He and his friend Buck both did.”
“And they talked about that specific racetrack?”
Violet moved to speak, but she took one look at Lance’s face and must have thought the better of it. Which encouraged her husband to finally speak his mind. “Wesley did talk about it a time or two. But he called it a casino. He said something about going there to try and win his money back.”
“The racetrack also has a full casino,” Lance agreed. “With slots and tables. But could your son have been in debt to the racetrack bookie, too?”
“Anything’s possible. I think both my son and his friend got themselves into trouble over there.”
“Well, that’s just one part of our investigation.” Lance returned his attention to the room at large now. “We also got a preliminary toxicology report back from the lab today. We know what killed Wesley Carmichael.”
An electric shock passed through the room.
“The medical examiner found a toxic herb in the lining of his lungs. Something called thorn apple.”
Everyone looked so confused.
Lance immediately spoke again. “It’s also called jimson weed or moon flower. The technical name is Datura stramonium. Basically, it’s a hallucinogen that can be fatal if given at a high-enough dose.”
“Didja say jimson weed?” Darryl perched on a stool at the side of the room. He’d found the stool by the globe that opened up to a bar, and he sat half-on, half-off the stool’s cushion. “We gots lotsa dat plant ’round here. Flowers in da summertime, right ’bout now.”
“Yes, it does.” Lance nodded. “People used to apply it as an analgesic in the old days, and some people still use it to treat asthma.”
“Asthma?” Now it was Lorelei’s turn to speak up. She’d been leaning her head on Jamie’s shoulder, but she quickly straightened. “You don’t say. Everyone knows my fiancé had asthma. He was angry with himself because he forgot to bring his inhaler this weekend.”
“Well, we also found traces of the plant on some evidence that was left behind,” Lance continued. “Someone rolled the leaves into a cigarette paper that was left on the floor. It was a rookie mistake, because whoever did it should’ve been more careful to remove the evidence.”
The silence remained, as thick as smoke. Either people had no idea what Lance was talking about, or they didn’t want to admit it.
“But my son didn’t smoke,” Foster finally said. “He thought it was a nasty habit.”
“Did he, now?” Lance said. “Well, that’s what we’re dealing with. Since we don’t have enough leads to go on at this point, I’m going to ask everyone to stay close by if they can. I’ll pick up the investigation in the morning.”
“That’s asking a lot of us, Detective.” Finally, Violet found her voice too. “I don’t intend to spend the night where my son died.”
“Obviously, I can’t make you stay here,” Lance said. “But I’d like to interview you all again tomorrow morning. One of you might remember something that could break this case wide open.”
“Well, that’s…that’s just…not going to happen.” Violet stumbled over her words. “And I can’t believe you even suggested it.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Carmichael.” Lance shrugged. “But if it’s too traumatic for you, I understand.”
“I don’t mind.” It was Foster, and he spoke quietly. “If you think it will help, I’ll stay here as long as it takes.”
“Thank you. And you, Mrs. Carmichael? Are you willing to join your husband and stay here tonight?”
“All right. I guess I can stay, too. But I’d like a room as far away from the water tower as possible. The one where you found Wesley’s body.”
“Of course, dear.” Nelle rose from her chair in the middle of the room. “I wouldn’t think of giving you a bedroom anywhere near where your son died. Please use the master bedroom. It’s at the back of the house, so it’s very private.”
“You’re too kind.” Violet and Nelle locked eyes, and something unspoken passed between the two women. “You’re always so kind.”
“Anyone can stay,” Nelle said. “We’re very fortunate to have ten bedrooms, so there’s plenty of space if some of us don’t mind sharing.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Honeycutt.” Lance glanced at his watch. “Look, it’s almost eight now. Let’s call it a night and convene here tomorrow morning at seven. I’ll start my interviews shortly after that. Good night.”
People began to stir, and sound softly rippled through the room.
After a moment, though, another sound joined it, which was mechanical and harsh, compared to the crowd’s quiet stirring.
It was a car, which stalled by the front door, and, after a moment, the harsh squeak of metal rubbing against metal sounded as someone opened and closed the car door.
A few seconds later, Buck appeared on the landing to the sunroom, his face ashen.
“Buck!” Lorelei was the first to notice him, and she dashed to the door as soon as he arrived. “We were so worried about you!” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick hug. “Whatever happened?”
He didn’t answer, but the ghostly cast of his face spoke volumes.
Chapter 12
The best man glanced around the room quickly, but his gaze flitted from one spot to the next, as if he couldn’t quite focus.
“Buck?” Lorelei’s voice wavered. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, but surely, he extracted himself from her embrace, and then he headed for the minibar at the back of the room. He haphazardly threw the lid open and plucked out a whiskey bottle.
“Is everything okay, son?” Lance called out.
“I…I think so.”
While Buck poured a drink, I dodged around people in order to reach him. He tipped back his head and gulped the whiskey just as Lorelei arrived, too.
“Ah,” he said. “I’m much better now.”
“What happened?” I asked. “What did those men want?”
“They wanted me.” He sounded awestruck. “That’s what they wanted. Me.”
“We all guessed that.” Lance joined us at the back of the room.
No one seemed to notice our conversation, because everyone else was too busy making plans for the night.
Once I stood next to Buck, I saw the rough scratches all over his face. They extended to his neck, where they crisscrossed the skin between his chin and collarbone.
“It looks like they roughed you up,” I said.
“They started to.” He chuckled, but it was bitter. “But then they threw me in the trunk of the car when Detective LaPorte here came along.”
When he gestured at Lance, I noticed his antique cuff link was gone. Wispy threads trailed from the buttonhole to his wrist, where the link used to lie.
“Oh, no!” I said. “They stole your antique cuff links.”
“They did. But the police got ’em back at the station. They tried to take my wallet, my car keys, you name it. I’m surprised they didn’t turn me upside down and shake everything out of my pockets.”
“Let me guess…they wanted to settle your gambling debts.” Leave it to Lance to get right to the heart of the matter.
“But I didn’t owe them anything,” Buck insisted. “It was all Wesley’s fault. I paid them back last year. It took me a ton of overtime at my dad’s business, but I somehow managed.”
“So why’d they rough you up?” I didn’t understand why a bookie would go after Buck if he’d already paid his debt.
“Because they can’t get anything from Wesley now.” The bitterness was back. “My best friend left this world owing his bookie one hundred thousand dollars.”
Lorelei gasped, and we all turned to face her. She looked caught between doubt and horror, and it was anyone’s guess which side would win.
“Are you sure?’ she whispered. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Tell me about it. I thought for sure I was a goner.”
I debated whether to whisk Lorelei away from our conversation right then and there. No need to talk about Wesley’s bad choices in front of her, when she’d already suffered enough. “Would you like me to help you up to your room?”
She seemed so fragile now, and even paler than before.
“No.” She shook her head resolutely. “I need to hear everything that happened with Wesley. I don’t want anyone to coddle me. Please. I’m going to find out anyway.”
“Okay, then.” If the girl didn’t want my help, I couldn’t exactly force it on her.
“Anyway,” Buck said, “those guys came here tonight to collect on Wesley’s tab. But then they found out about the water tower.” He cut his gaze to Lorelei. “I’m sorry, but I really thought they were gonna kill me when they couldn’t get to Wesley.”
“Or maybe something else happened.” I turned to Lance the moment I thought of it. “Do you think maybe they were the ones who killed him?’
“Not really,” Lance said. “That bookie isn’t known for wiping people out. He’s known for extortion, and definitely blackmail. But not murder.”
I mentally flipped through the various scenarios. If Buck was right, and the men meant to hurt—or even kill—him, they didn’t do a very good job of it. To me, it seemed like they were more focused on robbing him. But Wesley was another story. What if they found out he couldn’t pay them back?
“I don’t know, Lance,” I said. “Maybe they came here last night and lured Wesley to the wine cellar.”
“But that’s not how this bookie operates.” Lance didn’t waver. “We have his thugs in custody, though, so we’ll know more after the interrogation.”
Buck still didn’t look convinced, and he sloppily poured himself another whiskey. “It sure felt like they were gonna kill me.” He threw his head back and downed the second drink as fast as he could. “I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
“You poor thing,” Lorelei softly said. “I don’t think you ought to drive anywhere tonight. You’ve had too much of a shock.”
And too much to drink, I wanted to add, although I bit my tongue.
“Mom’s putting people up in our house tonight,” she continued. “Please stay.”
“I doubt if she wants me here. Me and Wesley have been nothing but trouble.”
“That’s not true.” Lorelei shook her head. “You tried to do the right thing by paying that bookie back. I’m just sorry Wesley didn’t do the same thing. Please stay.”
“Well…” Little by little, Buck’s face relaxed. Either he knew she was right, or the alcohol was starting to take effect. “Okay. I guess so. Thanks, Lorelei.”
He set the empty glass on a side table and turned to leave. When he made his way across the room to join Nelle, a new voice spoke up.
“May I speak with you a moment, detective?”
We all turned to see Violet Carmichael, who had stepped up behind us.
“Of course,” Lance said. “How can I help you?”
“I’d prefer to speak to you alone.” Her tone, not to mention a look she threw Lorelei and me, was pointed. “Please. It’s important.”
“That’s okay.” By now, Lorelei was too exhausted to put up a fight. “I was just leaving. My head really hurts, and I want to go to bed.”
As soon as she scooted around Violet, the older woman flinched.
“Now, what’s on your mind?” Lance asked.
“Completely alone.” Violet said.
“No…Missy can stay. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Miss DuBois.”
“Very well.” His refusal took some of the wind out of her sails, but it didn’t stop her altogether. “I wanted to tell you about something I overhead yesterday. It might be important.”
“By all means…tell me what you know.” Lance slowly withdrew a notepad from the pocket of his khakis. It was the same notepad I’d seen him use countless times during countless interviews.
“Well, I was walking through the garden yesterday, and I heard my son talking with that girl.”
That girl? Interesting how much Violet disliked Lorelei.
“What were they talking about?” Lance asked.
“They were fighting. I could hear them, clear as day. It happened right around six last evening.”
“And you’re sure of the time?” Lance scribbled something or other onto his notepad. But all the while, his gaze remai
ned locked on Violet.
“Definitely six,” she said. “I’d bet my life on it. They were arguing about the ceremony. I don’t think Wesley wanted to go through with it. And I think maybe Lorelei knows more about my son’s killing than she’s letting on.”
“How dare you!”
For the second time that night, someone new barged into our conversation. Now it was Jamie, who glowered behind Violet. Jamie brought with him the scent of Paco Rabanne, which he’d applied a little too liberally. “You have no right to say that! None at all.”
“But…but—”
“Officer, don’t pay any attention to her,” Jamie continued. “She’s trying to cover up for that no-good son of hers. Wesley was trouble from day one. Trouble! He didn’t deserve a woman like Lorelei. His mother should be ashamed of herself.”
“Why, I never!” Finally, Violet found her voice. “You have no right to speak to me that way!”
All around us, people stopped chatting when they noticed a fight was brewing in our corner of the room.
“It’s a wonder Lorelei didn’t call off the wedding,” Jamie said. “Your son was no choir boy, you know.”
“Okay, you two.” Lance moved to separate them. “Let’s keep it civil.”
“But it’s true, officer,” Jamie said. “She’s trying to shift the blame for what happened to Lorelei. And that’s the last person she should be pointing her finger at.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Violet fired back. “I’m just telling the detective what I heard. And how dare you speak to me like that!”
“Look, fighting isn’t going to help anyone.” I scrambled to diffuse the tension. “And people are starting to stare.”
Sure enough, that did the trick, and they both fell silent. I should’ve appealed to their vanity from the start.
“That’s better,” Lance said.
“In fact, I’ll help you find Nelle.” I placed my hand on Violet’s wrist, which was trembling. “We can see about getting you settled into that master bedroom.”
The way I figured it, Violet had already told Lance what she knew. Now he’d want to interview Jamie, who seemed to have his own reason for hijacking the conversation.
What the Hatmaker Heard Page 11