“Yes, but as I recall, you said you’d kill him for me.”
“I can’t kill him when he’s hurt.”
“So you have to wait until his injuries heal before you kill him?” Royce lifted a brow. “That doesn’t make much sense.”
“Well that may be, but that’s my moral code.”
They stared at each other for a second before busting out laughing.
“I can hear y’all in there.” Three more resounding knocks on the bathroom door followed. “I need to talk to you now.”
Royce motioned for Elita to stand behind the door. He opened it a few inches. “What the hell is so important that it can’t wait until I’ve finished my shower?”
Cliff leaned against his crutch. “Is Elita in there too?”
She poked her head around the door. “Who else would be in the shower with Royce?”
A cherry blush painted Cliff’s cheeks. He stared at the floor. “I’m sorry to bother y’all, but Sheriff Glover is here and wants to talk to both of you.”
“We spent the last three days talking to the sheriff and the FBI.” Royce slicked back his wet hair. “What does he want?”
“He didn’t tell me. Just said he needed to speak with you two.”
“We’ll be there in a minute,” Royce said. “Don’t say anything about us being in the shower.”
“He’s the dang sheriff, Royce. When he sees your wet hair, he’ll figure that out on his own.” Cliff turned to leave. “Don’t take too long.”
* * *
Royce poured two cups of coffee, handed one to Elita. “You sure you don’t want a cup, Sheriff?”
“No thanks.” Virgil Glover pulled out a chair and sat. “I’ve had enough coffee the last few days to keep me awake for a month.”
Royce and Elita joined him at the kitchen table.
“I stopped by this morning to bring you up to date on what’s happened.”
Cliff grabbed his crutches, pushed up from the table. “I guess I should leave.”
“No need.” Glover waved his hand. “It’ll all be public record soon. Just keep what I’m going to tell you in the family for now.”
Cliff eased back into his chair.
“Elita, I know you were worried about having to come back and testify,” Glover said.
“She’s taking a heavy load of classes to make up for taking this semester off,” Royce explained. “If she misses too many classes, she won’t be able to graduate next August.”
Elita poured cream into her coffee, added a sugar cube, said nothing. Around dawn, she’d made a life-altering decision, one she didn’t want to reveal to anyone before she had the chance to tell Royce.
“She may not have to testify.” Virgil pulled off his Stetson and set it in the chair next to his. “When we searched Luther’s place, we found several hidden notebooks. Seems he’d kept meticulous records on the Piccioni family’s activities in the Caddo, including their distribution networks, which ran from East Texas through half the states east of the Mississippi River and up to New Jersey. Even the FBI had no clue their reach was so long, and they’ve been trying to take down the Piccioni network for a decade.” Glover shook his head. “But I’m one to talk. They operated a smuggling and murder ring in my back yard, and got their mole into my office. I never put the pieces together either.”
Elita jumped to her feet, bumping the table so hard coffee sloshed out of her cup. “Did he write anything about my father’s murder?”
“Yes, Luther wrote about both Yancy’s murder and Dale Butler’s, too. Aldo Zankov, a professional hit man employed by Piccioni, committed both homicides. Making murders look like accidents or suicides was Zankov’s specialty.”
Stinging beads of sweat broke out along Elita’s hairline. Pain lodged in her chest. Was her throat swelling? She couldn’t breathe. Running over to the sliding patio door, she yanked it open, and doubled over as if mule-kicked in the stomach.
Royce went to her immediately. He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders to keep her from falling forward and rubbed his other hand between her shoulder blades. “Breathe, Elita, just breathe.”
Sheriff Glover got a glass of water and handed it to Royce.
“Drink some water, Cricket, honey.”
She gulped down enough water to open her throat and find her voice. “I want to know why Luther helped them.” She looked at Glover. “He grew up with Daddy. Partnered with him in fishing tournaments. Luther ate at our table, played ball with Ricky . . . .” She stopped, sucked in three deep breaths and wiped at the tears rolling down her face. “How could he help them, Sheriff?” Her brain scrambled to come up with any possible reason. “Was it for money?”
“In 1965, Luther went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and somehow ended up playing in an illegal poker game in the backroom of a nightclub owned by Piccioni.” Sheriff Glover leaned against the kitchen cabinets. “After he lost all his money, Luther bet his boat. He lost it, too. Like all fool gamblers, Luther thought he could win it all back if he played long enough. So, he signed some IOUs and when he couldn’t pay up—”
Cliff interrupted, “They threatened to kill him.”
Glover nodded.
“Why didn’t they kill him?” Elita asked.
“For years, Piccioni had wanted to set up a distribution operation in the tri-state corner of Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana. A holding place somewhere in the backwoods, but one close to the interstate highways so he could move his products out fast.”
“There are three major interstates within a 75-mile radius of here.” Cliff scratched the back of his head. “It doesn’t get more ‘backwoods’ than the Caddo. I’ve lived here all my life and still wouldn’t go into that maze of channels and bayous without a guide.”
“They needed someone who knew the Caddo well. Knew its secret places—the hidden coves, secluded islands, backwater channels.” Royce poured the remainder of his coffee down the sink. “I’m guessing they gave Luther the choice of dying or working for them.”
Glover nodded. “Elita, Luther didn’t have anything to do with the murders, if that is any comfort to you.”
She stared at the sheriff. “If he’d spoken up, if he’d come to you and told you what Piccioni was setting up in the Caddo, then Daddy, Dale Butler, and that woman they found buried on the Texas side would be alive today.”
“What woman is Elita talking about, Sheriff?” Cliff asked.
“Texas Rangers found the mutilated body of an older woman buried in a shallow grave on their side of the Caddo. They’d been unable to identify her until we went through Luther’s notebooks. Seems she ran Piccioni’s whorehouses in New Orleans and like Luther, she kept her own set of secret books.”
Cliff rested his broken leg on the empty chair next to his. “Guess they thought keeping notes on Piccioni’s illegal activities would keep them safe.”
“Piccioni found her notebooks and discovered she‘d been skimming money from several of his operations,” Glover said. “He tortured and murdered her as a warning to anyone who might think about double crossing him.”
Royce put his arm around Elita’s shoulders. “What happens now, Virgil? Is there any chance that son-of-a-bitch will get out on bail?”
“Not this time. The feds have a treasure trove of incriminating evidence. They even found a set of audiotapes, and one has the old man himself ordering a hit on a federal judge.” Virgil raked his hand through gray-streaked black hair. “Piccioni’s network is collapsing around his ears. Everyone from street dealers to his top lieutenants are scrambling to make a deal to testify against their former boss.”
“Why would Piccioni tape his illegal activities?” Cliff asked.
Elita answered. “Because he was so certain he’s too smart and powerful to ever be taken down. The murdering bastard played god with people’s lives for so long, he thinks he is one.”
The sour truth of her grief-laden words curdled the already humid air.
Royce broke the silence. “Is Elita in any d
anger?”
“She could only testify to what Luther and Marco did that day on Duck Island. They’re both dead. The FBI has their hands full interrogating and prosecuting their live catch.”
“What about Jax?” she asked. “The feds never said for sure they wouldn’t prosecute him for not turning Luther in.”
“They flew in one of their top forensic psychologists to interview Jax. She said due to his developmental disabilities, Jax was incapable of comprehending the scope and meaning of what was taking place. The main problem for Elita and Jax is going to be the press.” Glover picked up his hat. “Royce, I see you put up a gate and hired security.”
“It’s my road and I’ll prosecute anyone who trespasses. Elita needs to rest. We’ll give the press a statement when we’re ready and not before.”
“There are half a dozen reporters staked out in front of the Boudreaux’s house, too.” The sheriff settled the Stetson on his head. “That lawyer you hired for Jax has him and his family squirreled away someplace. You got any ideas where he stashed them?”
Royce grinned. “Do you need Jax for anything, legally speaking?”
“Nope, just wanted to make sure the family is okay and that no one is bothering them. They have enough to deal with just wrapping their heads around what Luther did.” He turned to Elita. “It really helped his family when you told them Luther died trying to protect you from Marco. That had to be difficult, considering all he put you and your family through.”
“I told them the truth. Marco would have killed both me and Jax if Luther hadn’t tried to stand up to him.”
“That doesn’t make up for the wrongs he did,” Cliff added.
“No, it doesn’t,” Glover said. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Elita. That wasn’t my purpose for dropping by today.”
“I’m glad you came. I feel better knowing Piccioni and his men won’t get away this time. Now, I can start making plans for the future again.”
“I’d better get back to the office.” Glover and Royce shook hands.
As soon as the sheriff left, Royce asked Elita. “What do you need right now, honey?”
She hesitated, but Cliff didn’t. “Hell, Royce, she probably needs breakfast. I know I do.”
Elita laughed and kissed Cliff’s forehead. “He’s right. I could sure go for one of your Spanish omelets.”
“Did you hear that, Big Brother? Elita said I’m right.”
“I heard.” Royce opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of eggs. “Savor this moment, Cliff, because it doesn’t come along very often.”
Elita smiled as the brothers continued their verbal sparring. At least this part of her world represented a slice of normalcy. She’d tell Royce about her new plan later. This moment was too delicious to spoil.
CHAPTER 33
Wearing only an old pair of cut-off jeans, Royce sat on the edge of his dock, dangling his bare feet in the tobacco-colored waters below.
Elita waggled two bottles of beer. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Saved this seat just for you.” He patted the boards next to him. “I heard the telephone ring a couple of times. Please tell me it wasn’t my mother.”
“Mamaw called. She’s having a family fish fry on Saturday. She asked me to invite Royce to come.”
“You mean she asked this Sutton boy to come?”
She handed him the beers, slipped off her sandals and sat. “Mamaw called you ‘Royce’ because she’s accepted you as part of our family.”
He tilted his head, raised a brow. “I don’t buy that. How do I know she won’t whack me in the knees with her damn cane again?”
“It’s like this. This summer, Sutton lives have blended into the Dupree clan.” She eased her arm around his. “Uncle Matt has Virginia, Mamaw has Susan, and I have the only man I’ve ever loved.”
Royce kissed her hard and long before pulling back. “Where’s Brother Interrupter?”
“Dani and Cliff are off to Shreveport to take in a movie.”
“It’s nice of her to take Cliff someplace. He’s going stir crazy being cooped up here.”
“She really likes him and he’s crazy about her.” Elita chuckled. “He can’t figure out a woman who doesn’t fall for those practiced pick-up lines of his and isn’t impressed by his Sutton name and money.”
“That shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. She’s your kin, and he knows that never mattered to you.” Royce took her hand, laced their fingers together. “I’m glad we have some time alone. I’ve wanted to talk to you about something.”
“I’ve got something to tell you too, but I want to ask you a question first.”
“Okay, ask.”
“When you told me about wanting to return to medical school, you said you realized that since returning from Vietnam, you’ve been standing in your own way.” She tightened her fingers around his. “What does that mean? What changed your mind?”
He didn’t answer.
“Royce?”
He blew out a deep breath. “I’ve forgiven myself for not being able to save Bowler.”
Elita kissed his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Until now, it’s been just a feeling, something telling me it’s okay to start dreaming again. I haven’t been able to synthesize my feelings into words until now.” Royce rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “When Cliff was in the hospital, I got to know one of his doctors. Steve Burkett served with a surgical unit in Korea. We talked about how hard it is in war when your job is to save lives, while those around you are tasked with taking them. I started trying to make sense of what happened to me in Nam instead of just struggling to forget it.”
“Did you come to any conclusions?”
“We can’t let the ghosts of regrets stop us from living a full life in the present.”
Elita hugged him and sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the heavens. Royce had navigated the labyrinth of guilt and self doubt and had made peace with himself. She released him. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“You go first.”
“Alright. The realtor I listed the house with also called. A couple made an offer. It’s a little under the asking price, but not by much. I accepted it.”
“Great news.” He handed her a beer. “We should celebrate.”
Elita clinked her bottle with his, took a small sip, and set it down. “I have to go back to Chicago to pack up the house and sign the papers.”
“I’ll go with you. You can show me the city while we look for a car and an apartment for you near the university. Something safe, with a doorman and valet parking so I won’t worry so much.”
She pulled her feet out of the water, turned to sit cross-legged toward him. “You won’t have to worry about me, because after I sell the house, I’m coming home to the Caddo.”
Royce set down his beer. “You have to finish pharmacy school.”
“Completing my degree is not as important as being with you. I won’t leave you again.” She leaned forward and kissed him.
“I want you with me more than anything, but I don’t want you to experience the same regrets I did after I left medical school.”
“I won’t.”
“Maybe not now, but later you will. There’s no valid reason for you not to finish.”
Elita stood. “You don’t think our being together is ‘valid reason’ enough? You’ve been trying to talk me into staying here ever since I got back. What’s changed?”
He rose and faced her. “It was selfish of me to ask you to give up your dream, especially now that you’re so close.” He pulled her to him. “I’ll come to Chicago every weekend.”
“You said that last time. That didn’t work out so well, did it?” She tried to push him away, but he held firm.
Royce lifted her face, forcing her to look in his eyes. “This time, it will be different.”
Elita slipped her arms around his waist, laid her cheek against his chest. “I should’ve trusted my gut b
efore. If I’d never gone to Chicago, I might have discovered Piccioni’s secrets.”
“You might have got yourself killed, too.” He rubbed her back, letting his words sink in. “Besides, your mother needed you. You had to go.” Royce leaned back, stared at her a moment before lifting his eyes to look across the channel to the house diagonally from his. He smiled and waved.
“Who are you waving to?” Elita turned around. A man and an older woman stood on the deck of the recently sold party house. They waved to her, especially the man, who crisscrossed both arms high above his head, signaling excitedly. Elita raised her hand to shield her eyes from the bright midday sun. “Is that Jax and his mother?”
“Yep.” Royce cupped his hands together and yelled, “Nettie is going to bring you some peach fried pies.”
“She brought them this morning. Jax ate half-a-dozen.” Jax’s mom patted her son’s extended belly. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” Royce tapped his chest. “Call me if you need anything.”
Mrs. Boudreaux waved goodbye and went back inside. A black Labrador Retriever pup came bounding across the deck to Jax. He picked up the dog. “Look, Girl, I got me a dog.”
“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“He’s a boy. Named him Shadow.” Jax took the squirming pup’s paw and waved goodbye with it, then he and his pup ran down the steps and disappeared into the Caddo.
“Did you do this, Royce?”
“Jax’s mother told me he’d always wanted a dog. I knew a lady who had some Labrador pups, so I got one for him.”
“That’s sweet, but dogs eat and get sick and all that takes money they don’t have.”
“True, but this pup comes with a lifetime supply of dog food and free veterinarian services.” Royce tweaked her nose the way he’d done when they were younger.
Elita closed her fist, extended the knuckle of her middle finger and punched Royce’s upper arm.
“Damn, Cricket! Why did you frog me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you bought that house to hide Jax and his family?”
“I didn’t. I bought it the day it went up for sale so I could make sure no more party people moved in.” He rubbed the bulge forming on his arm. “We were going to put the family up in an out-of town hotel, but Jax got agitated at the thought of leaving the Caddo.”
Shadows of Home: A Woman with Questions. A Man with Secrets. A Bayou without Mercy Page 33