“You look troubled, Mrs. Sutton. I hope none of our staff has done anything to upset you.”
“It’s nothing like that. You and your staff have been superb.” Dorothea waved her hand. “I’m afraid I’ve received some bad news of a personal nature.”
“Is there anything or anyone I can get for you? One of your sons, perhaps?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No. I don’t want to spoil their evening.”
“Would you like some water? Maybe you should sit down.”
As the manager became more anxious, Dorothea grew calmer. A plan formed in her mind. A plan, which if executed properly, would put that slut Elita where she belonged. “There is something you can do for me, Mr. Talbot.”
Relief washed over his face. “You have but to ask.”
“I need to make a phone call. It’s a rather delicate matter requiring privacy.”
“You can use the phone in my office.” He motioned to a door just past the check-in counter. “Right this way.”
Dorothea followed him into a tastefully arranged office.
Talbot pointed to the phone on his desk. “Just dial nine to get an outside line. Take all the time you need.” He turned to leave.
“Just a minute, Mr. Talbot.” Dorothea opened her evening bag, retrieved a fifty-dollar bill. “If anyone calls asking to speak to my son, Royce, please refer the call to me.” She folded the money, tucked it into the breast pocket of Talbot’s jacket. “I don’t want anything spoiling that dear boy’s birthday. You understand?”
“Yes, of course. But a tip isn’t necessary, ma’am.”
“I always reward good service and loyalty. Please close the door behind you.”
The manager thanked her and left.
Dorothea thumbed through the phonebook, found the number she wanted, and dialed.
A man answered. “Caddo Parish Sheriff’s Department. How may we help you?”
“This is Dorothea Sutton. I’m calling to report a robbery.”
CHAPTER 15
Elita stood in front of the booking counter at the Oil City annex of the Caddo Parish Sheriff’s office. Hands cuffed behind her back, she fought to control her emotions. Her heart beat fast and furious. Was rage or fear the catalyst for the tremor running from her legs to her shoulders? She figured it was a heaping measure of both. To make matters worse, one of the deputies who’d pulled her over was her childhood adversary, Todd Menard. His great delight in arresting her indicated he still remembered the time when Elita broke his nose.
Sergeant Foley, the booking officer, laid the registration to the Mercedes on the front counter. “As you see, Miss Dupree, the car is registered to Dorothea Sutton and not to her son.”
“But she bought the car as a birthday present for Royce.” Elita scanned the document again. “Hundreds of people saw her give it to him. Call the Belle River Inn and ask them if you don’t believe me.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Miss. But until the title of the Mercedes is transferred to her son, Mrs. Sutton is the legal owner, and she claims the car was stolen.” The officer dragged his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Now, for the last time, did Mrs. Sutton give you permission to drive that car? Yes or no?”
“No, but—”
Todd Menard let out a joyous whoop. “Gotcha!”
“Shut up, Todd.” Deputy Hagar who’d driven the Mercedes to the Oil City jail stood about five-ten and had warm, hazel eyes. Late twenties, Elita guessed. Nice looking, with dark blond hair and a trim, muscular frame. Hagar presented quite a contrast to Todd’s stocky build and ruddy complexion.
“Don’t tell me to shut up, Mark. Stealing cars runs in her family. She had a cousin do time in the state pen for it.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s a car thief.” Hagar looked at Elita and smiled. “I’m Mark Hagar, Miss. This sounds like a simple misunderstanding to me.”
Todd squared his shoulders. “That’s bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth,” Foley ordered. “You know I don’t allow that kind of talk.”
Elita interjected, “He’s still mad because I broke his nose when we were in the ninth grade.”
Foley’s brow wrinkled. “Todd told us he got hit with a baseball.”
“Royce paid him to say that so I wouldn’t get into trouble. But the truth is Todd bullied some kids half his age. I told him to leave them alone. We fought. He lost.”
Menard’s face turned tomato red. “That’s a lie.”
Hagar laughed. “From the look on your face, I’d say she’s telling the truth.”
Menard’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a prisoner. Do you want me to put her in lockup here or take her over to the main jail in Shreveport?”
His question brought the burn back to her stomach. “I’d like to speak to Sheriff Glover, please. He’s known me all my life.”
“The sheriff is out of town on business this weekend.”
“Then let me call Royce. He’ll get this matter straightened out.” If he doesn’t throttle his mother first.
Foley grabbed a phone and a directory from a table behind the counter, set them in front of her and motioned to Menard.
The deputy unlocked the handcuffs. “No use in trying to run. I’ll just catch you.”
She rubbed her wrists. “Even in three-inch heels, I can outrun you any day of the week.”
Hagar chuckled and gave Elita a nod of approval. Foley ran his hand over his mouth in an unsuccessful effort to suppress a grin. A young woman who’d slipped into the back of the room snickered. Elita recognized the petite brunette immediately as Bonnie Mouton, Grandma Mouton’s granddaughter.
Deputy Menard’s face darkened. “We can add assaulting an officer to the other charge.”
Bonnie rested her hand on her protruding stomach. “She didn’t assault you, Todd, she insulted you. If we locked people up for that, we’d have half of Caddo Parish in jail.”
Hagar and Foley roared. Bonnie giggled at her own wit. Even Elita smiled.
“One phone call is all you get. Make it quick,” Menard ordered through bared teeth. “Then, I’m locking you up.”
His threat wiped the smile off Elita’s face.
Foley pointed at Todd. “It’s time you got back out on patrol.”
Todd started to argue, but Foley cut him off with one wave of his hand. Todd cast Elita a hateful glare and stomped out the front door.
Bonnie stepped forward. “Hi, Elita. Remember me?”
“Sure. You’re Bonnie Mouton.”
“Yeah, only it’s Bonnie Dugas now. I married Randy.” She patted her swollen belly. “We’re expecting our first baby soon.”
Elita forced a smile. “Congratulations. You work here?”
“She’s our dispatcher,” Foley said. “You’d better get back to your desk, Bonnie. The main office might call.”
“They did. They’re sending a car to pick up Mrs. Sutton so she can come get her car and press charges.”
Elita’s pulse quickened. “Dorothea is coming here? Good. I want her to look me in the eye and accuse me of stealing that car.”
Bonnie shook her head. “You won’t see her. Perpetrators aren’t allowed to confront their victims.”
Perpetrator. That’s how they saw her. She was no longer Elita Pearl Dupree the college student, the pharmacy technician, the sensible, responsible young woman. All that had been erased by one lie out of Dorothea’s mouth. Now, she was Elita Pearl Dupree, the car thief, the criminal, the perpetrator. The word spun in her mind until she felt light-headed. She grabbed the edge of the counter for support.
Sergeant Foley pushed the phone toward her. “You’d better make your call, Miss.”
Elita flipped through the phonebook until she found the number for the Belle River Inn. She dialed the number and was relieved when a young woman answered on the second ring.
“Good evening, Belle River Inn. How may I help you?”
“Yes . . . good . . . good evening.” She closed her eyes and commanded her nerves to
settle down. She’d talk to Royce. He’d put a stop to his mother’s lies. He’d come get her and take her home. After all, keeping her safe and out of trouble was his job. He’d never failed her before. He wouldn’t fail her now.
“May I help you?” the hotel clerk repeated.
“I need to speak to Mr. Royce Sutton. He’s the guest of honor at the party in the grand ballroom.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know who he is.”
“Good. Please ask him to come to the phone. My name is Elita and it’s an emergency.”
“Hold on, please.”
“Okay.” Elita cupped her hand over the receiver, looked at Sergeant Foley. “She’s gone to get Royce. I’m on hold.”
Bonnie eased down onto a black vinyl and metal chair. “That sure is a beautiful dress. Did you get it in Shreveport?”
“Dallas.” She’d spotted the strapless, silk sheath in a dress shop near the hotel she and Royce stayed in. The top lay straight across her chest, low enough to be teasing, but not tawdry. The tea-length skirt flared just enough to make dancing easy, but it was the color that caught her eye. A shimmering jade that, according to Royce, made her green eyes sparkle like Mediterranean pools.
“Hello,” a male voice said.
Elita’s heart leaped. “Royce. Oh, Royce, I’m so glad—”
“This isn’t Mr. Sutton. I’m John Talbot, the hotel manager.”
“I need to talk to Royce.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Sutton isn’t able to come to the phone. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
“Wait. Wait! Don’t hang up.” Panic pulled at her. “This is an emergency.”
A pause. Hope began to seep into her veins. There’d been a misunderstanding. Now that the manager knew it was an emergency, he’d get Royce for her.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but Mr. Sutton is not available.” There was no goodbye, no offer to take a message, nothing but a click when he hung up on her.
* * *
Dorothea reviewed the papers on the clipboard. She smiled as she read the charge against Elita—grand theft auto.
“When you first discovered the car missing, Mrs. Sutton, did you ask your son if he’d loaned it to anyone?” Sergeant Foley asked.
“If you received a beautiful new Mercedes, would you loan it to someone?”
Foley traded glances with Deputy Hagar. Both men had been in law enforcement long enough to know when someone was trying to dodge a direct question. “Did you tell your son the car had been stolen?”
Dorothea frowned at the officers. “It’s his birthday. I didn’t want to spoil the party for him. Besides, there are prominent, influential people there, and Royce needs to attend to his guests.”
“Miss Dupree said she and your son are going together,” Hagar said. “She also claims you knew she had the car because you saw her drive off in it. She said she waved goodbye to you.”
“That’s a damn lie.” Dorothea threw the clipboard on the counter. “Are you going to take that girl’s word over mine?”
“I am.” Virginia Sutton Reed stood in the doorway of the police station. She marched across the room, followed by Matt Dupree. She stopped three feet from Dorothea, crossed her arms. Her eyes flashed a white-hot fury. “What kind of stunt have you pulled this time, Dotty?”
Dorothea took two steps back. “Why are you here? This isn’t any of your business.”
Virginia hiked one brow. “I’m making it my business.” She looked at the officers. “Excuse us, gentlemen. My sister-in-law and I need to talk.” Virginia’s manicured fingers curled around Dorothea’s forearm. She pulled Royce’s mother to the far corner of the room.
Matt watched Virginia huddle with Dorothea before turning his attention to the deputies. “I’m Matt Dupree, Elita’s uncle.” He extended his hand.
The officers shook his hand and introduced themselves.
“Where’s Elita? Is she okay?” The words spilled out in a worried rush.
“We put Miss Dupree in a cell by herself,” Hagar said. “She’s fine.”
“I’m sure my niece would disagree. Why isn’t Virgil here? He’d put a quick end to Dorothea’s sick little game.”
Foley slipped his pen into his pocket. “Sheriff Glover is out of town.”
“I remember now,” Matt said. “When we went fishing last week, Virgil said he was going to Dallas for a special multiagency conference.”
“Did the boss tell you what that meeting is about?” Hagar asked his Sergeant.
Foley scowled. “When the sheriff wants us to know something, he’ll tell us.”
A noise from the other end of the room grabbed the men’s attention.
“You can’t be serious?” Dorothea’s hand clutched at her throat. The color drained from her face. “You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t.”
Virginia folded her arms, leveled a withering glare at her sister-in-law. “Just try me.”
“But we’re family. How could you . . . . ” She broke off, glowered at Matt. “I should’ve guessed you’d turn traitor.”
“I doubt Royce will see it that way.” Virginia walked back to the counter. “I think Dorothea has changed her mind about pressing charges against Miss Dupree.”
“Is that right, Mrs. Sutton?” Foley asked.
Dorothea joined the others at the counter. She took a deep breath, blew it out. “My son drove his Jeep to the party. He didn’t know I was surprising him with a new car.” She smiled sweetly at the officers. “Surely, you gentlemen can see his dilemma.”
“He couldn’t drive two vehicles home,” Mark Hagar said.
“Exactly. Apparently, Royce told my sister-in-law he’d asked Miss Dupree to drive the Mercedes home for him.”
“And you had no knowledge that he’d given the keys to Miss Dupree when you reported the car stolen?” Foley asked with diplomatic skepticism.
“Certainly not.” Dorothea fingered the double strand of pearls around her neck. “I was busy with our guests. I’m sure Royce didn’t want to bore me with such trivial details.”
“I bet Elita wouldn’t consider it such a trivial detail.” Matt jabbed a finger in Dorothea’s direction. “You knew she was driving the car when you called the sheriff.”
“Why on earth would I have her arrested?” Dorothea asked with feigned innocence.
“Because you’re a—”
“It’s over now, Matt.” Virginia laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Dorothea made a mistake and I’m sure she’s eager to correct it.” She faced her sister-in-law. “Aren’t you?”
Dorothea hesitated answering.
“By the way, I called Royce and told him about this misunderstanding between you and Elita. Naturally, he was upset.” Virginia checked her watch. “He should be here any time now.”
The prospect of facing her son’s wrath got Dorothea moving. “Where’s that complaint?” Foley handed it to her. She ripped it in half once, then twice, and handed the pieces to the deputy. She turned and headed for the door.
“What do you want us to do with the car, Mrs. Sutton?” Foley called after her.
She marched back to the counter. “Give me the damn keys.”
Foley dropped them into her open hand.
After giving Virginia and Matt another hateful scowl, Dorothea stomped to the front door, pushed it open and let it slam behind her.
Hagar scratched his head and chuckled. “Boy, she’s a piece of —”
“Go get Miss Dupree, Deputy,” Foley interrupted. “And keep your opinions to yourself.”
Hagar nodded and left the room.
“I’m sorry about this misunderstanding, folks,” Foley said.
“This wasn’t any misunderstanding. Dorothea knew exactly what she was doing.” Matt pounded his fist on the counter. “Can’t we charge her with false arrest or something?”
“It’d be hard to prove she deliberately made a false statement,” Foley said.
Heat rose in Matt’s face. “So she gets away with this stunt?”
Foley shrugged. "
I'll get Miss Dupree's valuables." He headed down the hall.
Virginia gave Matt’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Dorothea will have to face Royce sooner or later. She’d probably prefer a cell over that.”
“She deserves both.”
“Let it be. For Elita’s sake and mine, let it be.”
“Okay, but I doubt Elita will be so generous.” He picked up her hand, turned it over and ran his finger across her palm. "How did you get Dorothea to drop the charges?”
“I told her that if she didn't drop the charges, I'd evict her from Sutton Manor.”
Matt tilted his head. “And she believed you?”
“Yes. My father left the lake house to my brother and Sutton Manor to me. If Dorothea gets to say who can drive her car, I get to pick who can live in my house. If she pulls another stunt like this, I’ll throw her and her designer wardrobe out on the sidewalk.”
He laughed and squeezed her hand. “Do you think you’ll ever want to move back into Sutton Manor?”
She pulled her hand from his. “After what I went through in that house, I don’t care if it burns to the ground.”
* * *
Virginia, Matt, and Elita stood next to Matt’s car in the parking lot outside the sheriff’s office.
“Royce should be here any minute,” Virginia said.
“How did you find out I was here, Uncle Matt?”
“Grandma Mouton phoned. Bonnie told her you’d been arrested for stealing Dorothea’s car. I called Virginia because I knew Dorothea wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say.”
“Thank you again, Virginia, for helping me,” Elita said. “I phoned Royce at the Belle River Inn, but the manager wouldn’t put my call through to him.”
“Sutton Oil has done business with the Inn for years. Mr. Talbot is really a sweet man, but Dorothea had instructed him to route any phone calls for Royce through her.”
“She knew I’d phone Royce from the police station.”
Virginia nodded. “I told Mr. Talbot it was all a misunderstanding and he got Royce on the phone right away. Needless to say, my nephew is furious with his mother.”
“Here he is now,” Matt said.
Tires squealed as the Jeep made a sharp turn into the parking lot. Royce parked, slammed the car door behind him and marched across the parking lot toward Elita. “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.
Shadows of Home: A Woman with Questions. A Man with Secrets. A Bayou without Mercy Page 17