Secrets, Lies, and Crawfish Pies

by Abby L. Vandiver

  I laughed. “No,” I said. “Haven’t you had enough?” I asked.

  “Oh, no way,” he said. “I told you I can’t get enough. I used to work on a crawfish farm over in Winnie.”

  “Winnie?” I said.

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded. “Winnie, Texas. I grew up in a small town right next door to it. And when I was a kid, I used to go there and hang out, just hoping they’d offer me some. And when I got old enough to work, let me tell you, I couldn’t wait to get that job. They didn’t hire many folks, but they remembered me. We’d work only about three months out the year, but we’d catch so many that the pay for that little time kept us going the other nine.”

  “I’ll bring more to the festival,” I said smiling.

  “Good. ’Cause let me tell you, even my momma don’t bake crawfish pies as good as you.”

  I laughed and took a bow. “Thank you, kind sir. I’ll be sure to bake extra for you.”

  “Well then what y’all doing out here?” he asked.

  “We just stopped to bring your pay for being in the band.” Rhett took out an envelope from his back pocket. “Didn’t want you going on strike before the sound check tonight. Or worse yet, before the show Saturday night.”

  “Oh okay.” Gus wiped his hands on his pants before he took the envelope from Rhett. “’Not to worry, though. I’ll be there.”

  “You know, I think this is my friend’s property,” Auntie Zanne said.

  “You talking about Josephine Cox?” he asked.

  “Josephine Gail Cox,” Auntie corrected.

  “You’ve probably seen her around the funeral home no doubt,” Rhett said. “When we were there practicing.”

  “Yeah. Of course. You know, I know her. I rent from her.”

  Auntie bit her lip. I could tell she was trying to figure out something. She turned around like she was trying to get her bearings.

  “Did you see someone come out here looking at her land?” she asked Gus.

  “Like who?”

  “Like anybody. I know she told me she was trying to sell it.”

  “Uh. Can’t say that I saw anyone,” Gus said and scratched his head. “When would that have been?”

  “About a week ago,” she said.

  “No. Don’t think so.” He shook his head. “You gotta come past my place to get into the property. For the most part, it’s the only paved road here,” Gus said. “I would’ve probably seen them.” He turned toward the house. “I could ask Spoon,” he said and turned back. “Him and his rifle out here hunting most every day.”

  “Oh, maybe I’ll ask him when we stop and leave him his pay,” Auntie Zanne said. “Josephine Gail hasn’t been feeling too well and I want to make sure she doesn’t miss a good deal if one comes around.”

  Why my auntie felt she had to lie to Gus was a mystery to me. But that was Auntie Zanne.

  “Okay,” Gus said. “I hope the next owners will be as nice as she is. I just like to be left alone out here. You know, to myself. I wouldn’t want anybody always out here nagging at me.”

  “I can understand that,” Auntie Zanne said. “We’ll see you in a little bit.”

  We pulled out, headed to see Spoon and give him his paycheck.

  “Remind me, Rhett,” Auntie said, “and you can look it up, Romaine, to look into that crawfish farm in Winnie that Gus was talking about. We might can get them from there for next year’s Boil.”

  “And put Catfish out of a job?” I said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, are you going to be the chairperson for the festival next year?” she asked.

  “T-ha!” I said. “No.”

  “Then just do as I ask. Please.” She turned around in her seat and looked at me in the back seat. “Look them up. You can do it on your phone, you know.”

  There she goes again. Trying to dazzle me with her cellphone tech knowledge.

  I whipped out my phone and pulled up Google without an ounce of help from her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I think the crawfish are multiplying in the pantry...

  We’d finally got back to the house and I set out to make pies. I only wanted to make enough to keep my promise to Amelia, until Auntie reminded me that I’d told Gus I’d make him some too. I just let his flattery give me more work.

  But the pies didn’t take long. Five minutes to boil the crawfish, and with Auntie, Rhett, and Floneva taking out the tail meat for me while I cut up and sautéed the vegetables, we were on our way to the sound check early with a basket of pies. Floneva even went with us.

  It would be fun, I thought as we drove out. My pies, Rhett’s beer, and the music. Even if it was for the sound check, I couldn’t wait to hear it.

  And lo and behold, there was nary an objection to Amelia. I think even as grown men, those other players were stunned by her beauty. Chip’s charisma didn’t hurt either. Used to dealing with reporters, fans, mothers, and the like during football season, he was very personable. Auntie said he was mean, and maybe to his players he was, but around his daughter, he was a sweetheart. Maybe that was what drew him to Taralynn.

  I wondered what the whole story was with the pregnancy by the one brother and subsequent marriage to the other. I watched Roble’s football coach hanging out and laughing with the other fellows in the band.

  While the musicians and Floneva, who seemed to have muscled her way into being an honorary band member, went out for one of their many cigarette breaks, Taralynn Williams came in and announced she was relieving her husband and would be staying and taking Amelia home afterwards. I saw my Auntie’s eyes light up as soon as Taralynn walked into the covered area. I knew what she was thinking–this was her chance to interrogate.

  Only problem–she didn’t know the difference between interrogation and bullying.

  Once the sound check was over and they played a set or two to help Amelia get acclimated, the guys sat around and drank beer that they got out the back of Spoon’s truck.

  Taralynn helped Amelia pack up her accordion. Once they’d finished and were on their way out, Auntie approached her. The thought of what she might say made my stomach turn.

  “Taralynn,” Auntie said. “Can we talk to you for a moment?”

  “We?” she said.

  “My niece and I.”

  Guess I won’t be getting out of this one.

  “Sure,” she said and put her arm around her daughter. “What do you need?”

  “Can we talk to you alone?” Auntie Zanne nodded toward Amelia.

  “Oh. Okay,” Taralynn said and looked at us. “Amelia, honey,” she said and moved Amelia’s hair out of her face. “I need to speak with Miss Babet. Can you wait in the car for me?”

  “Sure, Mom,” she said.

  “Goodnight, Miss Babet,” Amelia said. “Goodnight, Romaine. Thank you for the crawfish pies.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Did you know a Ragland Williamson?” Auntie didn’t waste any time. As soon as she thought Amelia was out of earshot, she dove right in.

  “Who?” Taralynn said, trying not to show any expression. She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe I do.”

  “Well, he knew you. He had your phone number.”

  “A lot of people have my phone number, Babet. Goodness, it’s pasted on just about every bench in Roble.”

  “Maybe this will help jog your memory. He’s dead.”

  I heard her voice catch in the back of her throat. “Who’s dead?” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Ragland Williamson.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, Taralynn. He’s dead,” I said.

  She covered her face with her hands and I could see a shiver rip through her body. She tightened up her muscles and let out a
moan then turned away from us, seemingly to hide her emerging flood of emotions.

  “He was murdered,” Auntie Zanne said, not even a hint of sympathy in voice.

  “I can’t believe it,” Taralynn said, her back still to us. “I just saw him—” She turned to us, her eyes big, and slapped a hand over her mouth, to let me know that wasn’t a piece of information she wanted to share. “I-I mean...” The words stumbled out of her mouth and then she started sobbing.

  “We know about your visits to see him,” Auntie Zanne said. “And we know about your daughter.”

  “Amelia?” She sniffed back tears, her shoulders loosened. “What about her?”

  “We know who her father is.”

  “What are you talking about?” Taralynn said. She swiped her hand over her face and licked her lips. “You’ve known Chip for as long as we’ve been here.”

  “Chip’s not her father,” Auntie Zanne said. “At least not her biological father.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taralynn said. She turned and looked back toward the covered shelter. I was sure she didn’t want any of what was to come to be overheard. “And why would you say something like that, Babet? You shouldn’t go messing around in people’s family business.”

  “Long buried secrets always seem to come to the light,” Auntie Zanne said. “No matter how hard you try to cover them up.”

  “How is it that you even know anything about our secrets? About my daughter?”

  “Kara told us.”

  “Who?”

  “Ray Williamson’s wife.”

  She sniffed back tears, and a look of surprise crossed her face. “He was married?”

  “He didn’t tell you that?” Auntie Zanne asked.

  The tears came tumbling from her eyes again. “No.” She started digging in her purse and pulled out a tissue. “He didn’t tell me.” She flapped the tissue in the air. “Not that I cared. That was over a long time ago.” She eyed Auntie Zanne. “And nobody should have told you anything about any of it.”

  “They didn’t just tell me, they told her too,” Auntie Zanne pointed at me.

  She would drag me into it.

  I started to speak up in my defense, but I didn’t get a chance. “What are you, a family of nosy nellies?” Taralynn asked. “Chip told me you were some big-city doctor.” She raised her head, looking down her nose at me. “Looks like you wouldn’t partake in small-town gossip.”

  “It ain’t gossip if it’s the truth,” Auntie Zanne said.

  “Well, nothing would come to ‘light’ as you put it, if people like the two of you didn’t go around snooping.”

  “Your family’s business is the reason that a man is dead.”

  “What?” she said, then shook her head as a realization sunk in. “Chip didn’t even know that I’d gone to see Ray. He had no idea.”

  “Chip?” Auntie said.

  “Chip didn’t kill anyone!” Taralynn shouted the words, and then jerked her head around to ensure no one heard her. “And you can just take all your suppositions and accusations somewhere else. I don’t want to hear them.”

  “It never crossed my mind that it was Coach Williams who did the killing,” Auntie Zanne said. “I thought you killed him. You’re the one that was seen going up to the hotel.”

  “Me? What? Why would you think I killed Ray?” She looked puzzled. “Who saw me go up there?”

  “Why did you go up there?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you go to the Grandview all those times? What was going on with the two of you?”

  “Nothing was going on.” She had gotten indignant now, and I was sure that Auntie’s brand of wit wasn’t going to get us very far. “And,” Taralynn continued, “it’s none of your business why I went over to that motel.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “But for your information, I went all of two times. He called me. Said he wanted me to help him.”

  “Help him with what?” Auntie Zanne said. “Was it about Amelia? Was he trying to see her?”

  “No. He asked about her, yes. But we’d gone down that road a long time ago. He was okay with everything.”

  “He was okay with his estranged brother raising his daughter? The only child he ever had?”

  “Yes!” Her voice got louder and went up an octave. “He left us.” She lowered her head. “Me. He left me. He decided to go away. I did what I had to do. He realized when he got back that I didn’t have any other choice. And he was okay with it.”

  “But now he wanted to change all of that, didn’t he?”

  “No.” She frowned. “He didn’t. Why do you keep trying to make it into something it’s not?”

  “He wanted to meet with you?” Auntie Zanne asked, not backing down. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Yes. That’s what I said.”

  “About what?” Auntie Zanne asked.

  “About some land. He wanted me to help him do a title search.”

  “Couldn’t he have done that himself? He worked for a lawyer. Aren’t they trained in that?”

  “Well, his boss wasn’t here. He was in Houston and I was here. I sell real estate, Babet. That doesn’t just include houses you know.”

  “So, he lured you out there on the pretense of helping him with finding out who owned some land after you hadn’t spoken to him in fifteen years?”

  She lowered her head. “He didn’t lure me. I had heard from him from time to time over the years,” she said.

  “Was it about seeing Amelia?” She brought up that theory again. “When he contacted you? Is that what he wanted?”

  “No. I already told you no. That isn’t what he wanted. He asked about her, yes. He wanted to know how she was doing,” she said. “But Ray wasn’t trying to hurt our family. Who have you told about this? If this gets back to my daughter, I swear, Babet...”

  “What? You’ll kill me?” Auntie Zanne asked.

  Taralynn ran her hand over her face. “I can’t believe this is happening and now...Now people know.”

  “Romaine is the medical examiner and her cousin is the law around here. You know Pogue Folsom. It’s their job to know. And besides me,” Auntie Zanne seemed remorseful, “no one else knows.”

  There she went including me again. I opened my mouth to speak, to try to defend myself.

  “What kind of doctor are you?” Taralynn looked at me accusingly. “Aren’t you supposed to keep information confidential?”

  “I –”

  “Not when it’s a murder investigation going on,” Auntie Zanne answered for me.

  “I didn’t kill Ray,” Taralynn said. “He was the father of my child. And I don’t have it in me to do anything like that anyway. It’s not just I wouldn’t, it’s I couldn’t.”

  She looked at the both of us. I didn’t have anything to say, and I was thinking that Auntie Zanne had said too much. Then she walked away.

  “Do you see how she immediately thought that it was Coach Williams that killed him?” Auntie Zanne asked me once we got into the Cadillac.

  “Yeah, she did seem to think that when we said Ray Williamson had been murdered.”

  She pulled her seat belt across her and snapped it into the lock. “I’ve seen the coach at those football games,” Auntie Zanne said. “He’s as mean as a grizzly who’s been awakened mid-winter.”

  “It could be he’s just zealous about the game,” I said. “You know high school football is next to God in East Texas. He’s just fanatical.”

  “Maniacal might be a better word,” she said. “And you remember how Chip said that he’d kill anyone that tried to do anything to his daughter?”

  “He didn’t say it quite like that, Auntie Zanne,” I said.

  “He made me believe he wouldn’t take it lightly.”

  “Yeah,” I said agreeing. “
I got that impression, too. Lightly don’t equal murder. And you know, that’s how daddies feel about their little girls. It’s not unusual.”

  “Considering that we’ve got a dead man on our hands who was the child’s real father and had come to Sabine County to get her back, it is unusual.”

  “Auntie!” I said. “He did not come to get her back. He came down here for a job. There you go making up facts again.”

  “Then why did he call Taralynn?”

  “She told you,” I said. “To help with the land investigation he was working on.”

  “To help do what?” She reached in her purse. “He had spoken to a surveyor to help him, remember?” she said and pulled out the business card.

  “That is true,” I said. “But he needed her for a title search.”

  “Surveyor could have done that,” she said.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Surveyors mark boundaries. For boundary disputes. And that’s what was going on, wasn’t it?”

  “You know it was,” Auntie Zanne said.

  “If Ray Williamson was going to meet a surveyor, he would have met him out at the property.”

  “I know.”

  “Out in the Piney Woods.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “Then maybe,” I said. “That’s how he got sap and woodchips in his wound.”

  “You think Coach Williams followed him out there and shot him?”

  “I think maybe whoever shot him, and I don’t know if it was Chip, may have followed him out there and ambushed him.”

  “We need to find out where hot-tempered Charleston Williams was that day. Was he anywhere near Piney Woods?”

  “Pogue will be back tonight. We need to let him do that.”

  “I think that we should call that surveyor,” Auntie Zanne said. “He’s local. We need to know what happened on Josephine Gail’s land when he went to meet Ragland Williamson. What he saw.” She looked at me. “Maybe he saw the killer.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “The zydeco dance contest doesn’t start for another half an hour,” I told the couple that walked up to the information booth. “It’s the first round today so you’d better hurry and get signed up if you want to compete.”