by Tina DeSalvo
“Do you think she could really think so illogically?” Beau asked. “If she thought that way, do you think she also thought that if she got rid of the child from the first marriage that she would get rid of the constant reminder of her husband’s role in his first wife’s death?”
“I absolutely do think she had considered that.”
“Tante Izzy speaks of her mother as a loving and good woman, though, Jewell. I don’t know.” He circled Claudette’s name on the board.
“She was desperate,” Jewell sighed. “Desperate women and men don’t think rationally. She didn’t kill Martine. We know that. She just wanted to get her out of her house so she could have a better life with her husband.” She looked at Beau. “She had to be in mourning herself from the miscarriages. Oh, Beau, I feel sorry for her. I don’t excuse her sending Martine away, if she indeed did that.” She shook her head. “She had to be so sad. She’d lost two precious babies she wanted so badly. She probably had loved them from the moment she knew they were growing inside of her.”
Beau walked up to her, lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “You seem to understand her.”
“Mimi once told me that the very instant she knew she had life growing within her, she loved her baby. It was hers. She wasn’t alone. She’d never known a love like that before.” Jewell’s voice caught. “I know it was Claudette. She had the financial means to make Martine disappear. That home must’ve been seeped in sadness, stress. She wanted to bring life and joy to it. Her not being able to have children, especially a male heir, must have made her feel like a failure…a disappointment to her husband. Martine had to be a constant reminder of the first wife and his life before war, before the disillusionment. Only one of those things was in her control to change or remove.”
“So, she sent Martine away.”
Beau walked to the board. He wrote three questions on it.
Is Martine alive?
Did she die as a child and someone switched her name with Mignon’s?
Who brought Martine to New Orleans?
It didn’t take Jewell long to decide where she’d place the furniture from the Sugar Mill barn. That pleased Beau. He was anxious to get back to Cane and talk with Tante Izzy to see if she had any information that might help answer the three remaining questions surrounding Martine’s disappearance. He had to wait for Jewell to check on Mimi’s house first.
She led him through the narrow adjoining backyards between the fire station and her grand-mère’s home to get to the back door of the house. He enjoyed seeing her efficient movements as she walked into the old bungalow house, flipping on light switches along the way.
It was an average-sized home, bright, with tall ceilings and simple architecture. A large kitchen and family room spanned the back. Three bedrooms were adjacent to the family room. A hall led to the front door. That was it. It had some age to it, but it was clean and functional. He thought it looked like a homey house for Jewell to grow up in and that pleased him.
“Which bedroom is yours?” Beau asked, but when he stepped into the middle room he knew. There was a single bed positioned against a side wall. A cherry wood nightstand was next to it and a pine bookcase next to that. Another bookcase filled the entire span of the opposite wall with a desk positioned in the middle. Books and binders filled every surface in the room. A large map of the city of New Orleans and another of the state of Louisiana hung unframed on the wall over her bed. If it wasn’t for a half-dozen strands of pink and white Mardi-Gras necklaces hanging on the closet doorknob and a pair of fluffy purple slippers near the foot of the bed, he wouldn’t have known this was a woman’s room.
“It looks like you work in here instead of sleep. Hence, room for only the single bed.” He sat on her bed and bounced a few times. The books that were stacked on the corner of the bed flew into the air, and one landed on the floor. “Comfy.”
Jewell laughed. “Yeah, well. It does its job.”
Beau tapped on the bed next to him for her to join him, and as she walked over, he picked up the book that had fallen. It was a Louisiana criminal law book. He felt the muscles in his jaw tense. “Changing professions?”
She took the book from him and placed it on the bedside table. “No. Research.”
Beau nodded, feeling a little hurt that she didn’t tell him more about why she had the criminal law book. Not that he needed to be told. He knew why she had it. “Jewell, if you need help with your case, I know good criminal lawyers who can help you.”
She looked away. “It’s all good.”
“Don’t think you can defend yourself.” He turned her shoulders to face him. He wanted to shake her until she took her trial more seriously. It knotted his insides thinking she didn’t have a good defense. “This is not a thesis on Civil War battlefields in Louisiana. This is out of your area of expertise. Don’t take a chance with your life, you hear?”
“Yeah. I hear.” She smiled, but Beau saw it wasn’t genuine. Her eyes remained flat, worried. “I have a lawyer.” She leaned into him. “Thank you.” Then she kissed him. It was a kiss meant to distract, and that it did. When it came to kissing Jewell, it never took long for the rest of the world to fall away. He didn’t know what power she had over him, but it was pretty damn potent.
The kiss ignited, leaving them in a hot tangle of desire until they were naked, panting and soaring to places that seemed to get impossibly better every time they were together. When they finally caught their breaths, Jewell settled along his side, her head resting on his chest, her arm reaching across it, her legs curved around his legs. He loved the way she wrapped her long legs around his, holding him tightly to her, like she was afraid he might leave. She held on to him with every part of her body, making him feel like it mattered. In fact, whether she was holding him with her legs, her hands or her arms, she held him with an intensity that made him feel so damn masculine. He could have beat his chest because of it, if he was inclined to roar like a jungle beast. She felt like everything good that brought him comfort and everything solid that brought him security.
That damn trial of hers had better go well, he thought. She’d better be playing this straight with me. Pride be damned.
“Jewell,” he said, letting his fingernail scrape lightly along her spine.
“Yes,” she murmured on a soft breath, sounding as content as a cat that had lapped a full bowl of warm milk.
He pressed a light kiss on her shoulder, feeling a warmth spread through him because he knew she was totally comfortable and relaxed with him. He understood that was a gift. Jewell didn’t let her guard down and she certainly didn’t release herself to enjoy being free knowing the trial could change that. She didn’t trust herself or Mignon with anyone enough to let that happen. He hadn’t realized how much he had wanted her to trust him until that moment. He slid his fingers through her long, silky hair, then contented himself, and her, by gently scratching her back with long easy strokes. She sighed.
He wanted her to always be this way with him. But, damn it, he thought about the trial again and knew that might not be possible.
“Humor me, chère. Tell me about your case.”
She stopped breathing for a second, then, she sighed. “What do you want to know?”
He wanted to say ‘everything,’ but knew that would shut her down. Everything would be too overwhelming for her. “Do they have a good prosecutable case?” He heard her swallow hard and he held his breath waiting for her to answer.
“Yes.”
Damn it. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Jewell, sweetheart,” he smoothed her hair with his hand. “Did you steal from them?”
She eased up to look him in the eyes. “Yes, Beau. I did.”
***
Beau sat up on the side of the bed, while Jewell sat on the bed, leaning against the side wall, the quilt wrapped around her naked body like a cocoon.
Holy hell. She did do it. She was a thief. Shit.
He didn’t believe it.
He needed to think. “Thank you for answering me.” He rubbed his hands on his bare thighs just for something to do. “You want something to drink? Water?” She shook her head no.
Still naked from their lovemaking, he walked to the kitchen, not bothering to get dressed first. He came back with two cold bottles of beer. He handed her one. She took it. He sat on the bed, took a sip of his beer, and welcomed the cold to parch the dryness in his throat.
“Jewell, I know the family got the judge to issue a gag order despite that being unusual for this type of case. I know they wanted it to protect the Monroe family name and Genevieve Monroe’s legacy.”
“You know a lot.” She frowned.
He took another sip. “I asked around about it. Spoke to the Monroe attorney…”
“You did what?” Her eyes widened, her spine straightened. “You had no right, Beau. You asked everyone about my case, but never asked me about it.” She was breathing hard, erratic. Her eyes were bright with anger and hurt, and it felt like he’d been punched hard in the gut. “Did you talk to my opponent, my enemy, while you were pretending to be my friend? Right after you climbed out of my bed?”
“It wasn’t like that, Jewell. Not like that at all.” He reached for her. She slapped his hand away but didn’t run from him.
She took a sip of her beer and looked at him with eyes so piercing that he sucked in a breath. “So, how was it, Counselor?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “I spoke to Frederick Henry, Ralph Bergeron and Claude Monroe…”
“Claude Monroe?” Her voice grew louder. “This is getting worse by the second.” She blinked slowly like she was fighting back tears. It made his chest feel tight.
“Jewell, I spoke to them right after we had our talk on the porch steps at Sugar Mill.” He kept his voice even, but he felt like he was pleading with her to understand. Damn, he really wanted her to believe him. That was a new feeling for him. “I wanted to go directly to the source to find out what they were claiming you had done because it was important.”
“Shouldn’t I have been the source?” Her eyes remained locked on his. The heat was still in them. She was angry, but at least she was listening.
“You wouldn’t have spoken to me about this. You couldn’t with the gag order. You didn’t trust me.”
“And you didn’t trust me either. You wouldn’t have believed anything I said.” She looked away a moment, then turned back to him. “Go on. Tell me everything.”
“I went to them because I had to know the details of what you were accused of because you were working and living with my family. I didn’t know you then, Jewell, and you had access to their lives.”
“And you wanted to protect them.” She took a sip of her beer. Nodded. “You’ve made that clear from the beginning. They are your priority. As much as I hate to admit it, speaking to my accusers was logical.” Her eyes met his again. The anger was still present but there was a little softening to them, too. “You’ve never pretended to want anything more than to protect them, have you?”
“I’m sorry, Jewell.” And he meant it. “I don’t want you to feel betrayed by my actions. When I met with them, it was before I got to know you…it was before we…” He ran his hand through his hair again. Before they what? What in the hell was he trying to say? “My family protected me when I needed to be protected. Hell, they did more than protect me. They saved me. They saved my brother. You know about my abusive parents.” He placed his beer on the table next to the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. “What you don’t know is that Ronald took Jackson and me home to live with him and Bernice the day he checked us out of the hospital.” He extended his arms in front of him. “Both of my arms had been broken.” He turned his palms up and dropped his arms. “My shoulder was dislocated. My nose was broken. Jackson had really skinned-up knees, a broken wrist. I jumped between him and my old man before he did worse to him.” He sucked in a breath, as the memory of the horror of that day when his father beat him and his brother for ratting him out to old Mrs. LeBlanc whom he’d been scamming for a month. She was about to give him access to her bank account. “My mother was passed out on the old car seat that was used as furniture on the front porch. Or at least she pretended to be.” He looked at Jewell. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I saw that she was awake. She just let our father, her bastard husband, beat her children.”
“Oh, Beau. I’m so sorry.” She entwined her fingers with his with one hand, while she still held the beer bottle with the other. “No child should be treated that way. Ever.”
“No. No child or adult should be beat on for someone’s sick, wicked, twisted pleasure.” Jewell kissed his hand.
“I’m sorry. I understand why you feel so passionate about protecting your family. Why you care about them so much. Why you feel so indebted to them.”
“It’s more than that. I love them.” He shrugged. “I care about them.” He pulled her into his arms. “But I care about what happens to you, too.”
“I’m glad the Bienvenus rescued you. You’re a good man.” She gave a short humorless laugh. “I don’t like you butting into my business. It doesn’t sit right, but I get it.”
“I’m glad you do.” He rubbed her arms. “Jewell, I’m concerned about your case and what you told me.”
She eased back to sit on the bed, pulling the blanket over her naked breasts. “Yeah, well, I am, too.”
“You know, Claude told me he’d drop the charges against you if you returned what you stole.”
Jewell’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” She turned the beer bottle in her hand. “Oh, he’s talking about what he thinks I stole.”
“I’m not following you.” Beau picked up his beer and took a long drink. When she didn’t expound on what she was talking about, he spoke again. “‘What he thinks you stole?’ Didn’t you tell me you were guilty of the felony theft?”
“No.” She said in a rush. “I said I stole from them. But I didn’t take the items from the safe they’re accusing me of stealing.”
Beau sat up. “So you didn’t take the family jewelry?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Right?” She nodded, then shrugged. “Did you see it in the safe?”
“Yes. When I left the house, it was all in the safe.”
He didn’t ask her if she was sure of that because he’d seen how thorough she was in her inventory methods. “Did you take photos of the jewelry while it was in the safe the way you did when you took photos of items at Sugar Mill?”
“Yes. The DA is using those photos as evidence that I had access and opportunity to take the jewelry.”
Crap. Not good. “So, what else are they alleging you stole?” Before she answered, his head jerked up. “Was Mignon with you?”
Jewell frowned. “I know what you’re really asking. No. She wasn’t with me and no she didn’t have access to the jewelry.” She sighed. “It was one of those rare days that she was visiting with an old friend and didn’t come with me. Thank God.”
“Okay, so…”
“Beau, look, this is torturous,” she said, interrupting him. “I know you’re trying to strip apart this one thread before moving on, but what you really should be asking me is what I stole.”
He nodded. “What did you steal?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Damn it, Jewell.” He threw up his hands. “This isn’t a game.”
“I know that.”
“You either trust me or you don’t.”
“The gag order?”
“Hire me as your attorney,” he said, meaning it.
“Like hell. I can’t afford you. I saw where you live.”
“Jewell,” he had drawn out her name like it was an order.
“Okay. Okay. You’re hired, but I’m not paying you anything because I intend on firing you in the next thirty seconds. I’m sure I can’t even afford your thirty-second r
ate.”
This was entirely too frustrating and unproductive. “As your attorney, you may speak about your case to me and not be in violation of the gag order. Tell me what you stole from the Monroe estate that you haven’t been charged with taking.”
She lowered her voice as if she didn’t want anyone else besides him to hear her even though they were alone. “Personal family papers. Copies of family birth certificates. Legal papers of contracts Genevieve Monroe entered into with an individual for less than ethical, but not illegal, transactions. The kind of papers that would embarrass the Monroe family if they became public. And before you ask, this has nothing to do with Mimi and Martine.”
Beau scooted back onto the bed next to her. He wanted more specifics than that. “You’re sitting there so calm. What the hell? You don’t look one bit remorseful or embarrassed that you did this. I don’t get it. I thought I knew you better than this.”
“I’m not remorseful.” She stretched her legs in front of her. “I had no choice. The papers belonged to me, Beau. They belonged to me as much as they belonged to Claude Monroe’s grandmother. And certainly more than they belonged to Claude.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” His chest was starting to hurt. If she was this obtuse with her lawyer, she was in deep shit. He put his beer on the nightstand; half remained. It tasted sour in his mouth.
She handed him her beer, and he placed it next to his. She shifted on the bed so she was facing him. “Beau, you can’t repeat any of this. Agreed? Even when I fire you as my attorney.” He nodded. “Until the moment I read what was written in those papers, I didn’t know. Right there, in Genevieve’s office, I learned that Claude Monroe’s father, the late Thomas Monroe, was my father, too. I only took the papers that proved that. Nothing more.”
“Holy crap. That’s a shocker.”
“No kidding.”
He took her hands into his. “So you were working for Claude Monroe, handling the assessment of the family estate, to which he was sole heir, and you discovered this information?” Was it purely accidental that she found the papers or had someone put it in front of her for her to discover? “Ralph told me he hired you. Did he do that of his own accord or had he done that because Genevieve asked for you to do the work in her will? Or had Claude requested him to hire you?