by Lynn Emery
“We got her blood pressure stabilized, but...” Dr. Hu sat down next to LaShaun. “You need to call the rest of the family.”
LaShaun could only nod. She cried in a way she hadn’t since Francine had died.
The doctor stepped aside and let a nurse attempt to console her. After a few moments, LaShaun dried her eyes and assured the nurse she would be okay. The nurse left as LaShaun dialed Uncle Leo’s home number into her cell phone. Five minutes later Deputy Broussard walked into the lobby. LaShaun looked at him but kept on talking. Uncle Leo promised to assemble the rest of the family then hung up. LaShaun closed the flip phone. Chase sat down in one of the plastic and vinyl chairs in the row facing LaShaun.
“You must have the 911 call on your radio, right? I’m glad you’re here.” LaShaun took his hand.
“I’m not here about your grandmother.” Chase shook his head. “But yeah, we knew you’d be here because of the 911 call.”
“We?”
“This is a bad time to talk about this, but Azalei turned up and–”
“Good. Lock her up, and put Rita in the same cell while you’re at it,” LaShaun said. Then she breathed in and out to steady her nerves. “Look, I’m just upset right now. I can deal with those two later.”
“We have to talk about this now, and it’s not good,” Chase said. He lightly brushed his fingers against LaShaun’s left cheek, but dropped his hand at the sound of footsteps and stood.
“Hello, LaShaun.” Sheriff Triche glanced at Chase, but said nothing.
Deputy Gautreau crossed his arms. “You don’t have a call here. In fact you went off duty thirty minutes ago.”
“Why are you here?” LaShaun snapped.
“To arrest you, ma’am.” Deputy Gautreau wore a nasty grin. He unhooked metal handcuffs from the belt around his waist. “For kidnapping, assault, and suspicion of murder.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” LaShaun looked to Chase for answers.
Sheriff Triche spoke instead. “Azalei is back, LaShaun.”
“Then question them because they’re partners in crime. Just leave me alone so I can take care of my grandmother.” LaShaun glared at them.
“We can’t find Rita,” Sheriff Triche replied.
“Azalei is bound to know where she is,” LaShaun replied. She closed her eyes for a few seconds then opened them. “My grandmother is dying and you need me to do your jobs? Just ask Azalei.”
“Azalei isn’t talking, LaShaun,” Chase said quietly.
“Of course not. She doesn’t want to go to jail,” LaShaun replied.
“She’s not talking because she can’t, and you know why. Let’s not play these games, Sheriff. We know she did it.” Gautreau moved toward LaShaun.
Chase planted a hand on his chest. “Not another step.”
“Stop it you two,” Sheriff Triche barked as the two deputies glared at each other. “We found Azalei in the woods on the eastern edge of your grandmama’s property, LaShaun. In her mental state I doubt she’d talk even if she could.”
“What do you mean she can’t talk?” LaShaun turned to Chase.
“Because you had her tongue cut off,” Gautreau answered before Chase could reply.
LaShaun gasped. The floor shifted beneath her feet. The walls seemed to sag in on her and she felt sick to her stomach. Swirling darkness closed over her as she slumped to the floor.
Chapter 8
A nurse practitioner examined LaShaun and observed her for thirty minutes before she allowed Sheriff Triche to question her. Stress and lack of food were the two causes of LaShaun’s dizzy spell. Tasha agreed to sit with Monmon Odette until her shift ended. Monmon Odette had suffered a stroke, and she was still unconscious. Assured that her condition had not changed, LaShaun followed the sheriff to a small conference room the hospital administrator, under protest, made available. The stern older woman scowled at him and the two deputies. Deputy Gautreau wore a sour expression to make plain he wanted to take LaShaun to the station for booking. After being put in his place three times, he shut up when Sheriff Triche threatened to toss him out of the interview entirely. Chase remained silent through their exchange. Once they settled in the faux leather brown chairs arranged around an oval table, Sheriff Triche tapped a finger on the oak surface for a few seconds before he spoke.
“We don’t have probable cause to charge you with felony assault on Azalei.”
“Which could be attempted first degree murder because of how bad you beat her,” Deputy Gautreau blurted out. He ignored the blistering look from his boss.
“Based on all the hoopla y’all been havin’ you understand we got to question you,” Sheriff Triche said.
“I know.” LaShaun took a sip from the bottle of spring water one of the nurses gave her.
“Maybe we should wait, Sheriff. I’m not sure she’s up to this.” Chase looked at LaShaun. Worry seemed to make his eyes even darker.
“I’m okay. Look, Azalei wasn’t exactly my favorite cousin. Everybody knows that. But I want you to find out what happened to her, and find Rita. So I’m willing to help all I can.” LaShaun fought off the chill not caused by the hospital vent above them.
“Very decent of you.” Deputy Gautreau gave a grunt.
“Okay, that’s it. Out.” Sheriff Triche nodded toward the door to emphasize his point. Gautreau left without saying anything more. The sheriff turned back to LaShaun. “When was the last time you saw Azalei and Rita?”
“Three days ago at the family meeting. I went to Rita’s house to talk to her, but she wouldn’t answer the door. I didn’t do anything to either of them.” LaShaun breathed in and out to steady her raw nerves.
“Take your time,” Chase said quietly.
“I was pissed at the way Rita and Azalei tried to take advantage of Monmon Odette. But Monmon’s lawyer assured us that we had a good chance of tossing out that power of attorney.”
“What?” Sheriff Triche leaned forward.
“Rita had Monmon Odette give her power of attorney. Then we found out that money had gone missing, a lot of money.” LaShaun saw the sheriff’s eyes widen slightly. “I was going through the court system to work things out. “
“Give me a time line on where you’ve been the past three days.”
For almost two hours, Sheriff Triche went over every waking moment of every day in LaShaun’s life for the previous seventy-two hour period. LaShaun felt shaken despite her calm exterior, but not because she seemed the likely suspect. Chase hovered nearby as though ready to catch her if she fell again. Sheriff Triche’s disapproval showed on his face, but the older man said nothing to Chase. Finally, Sheriff Triche heaved a sigh.
“Alright, that’s about it for now. I expect folks are going to think you attacked Azalei and did something to Rita. I just hope she’s off hiding cause she’s scared.” The sheriff stood.
“I do, too.” LaShaun rubbed her eyes.
“Maybe you better get some rest. You can’t help your grandmother by falling out. Besides, she’s got medical professionals steps away.” Sheriff Triche’s tone sounded less like the lawman.
“I want to be close by in case anything happens.” LaShaun couldn’t bring herself to say out loud that her grandmother might well die soon.
“I understand. Sorry for all your troubles.” Sheriff Triche nodded. After one last long look at Chase, he left.
Chase went with LaShaun back to the critical care unit. Tasha and the nurse assured her that Monmon Odette was stable. Yet, the hospital atmosphere seemed to signal death. Long shadows along the hospital corridor created a gloomy atmosphere. The smell of disinfectant increased the effect.
“It’s almost seven and getting dark out. You’ve been here for hours. I think you should go home, shower and sleep. Come back later tonight if it makes you feel better.” Tasha put an arm around LaShaun.
Uncle Leo walked up as Tasha spoke. “Me and my wife gonna be here awhile, LaShaun. She’s right. Go on home.”
“See? Mrs. Rousselle has an army of
folks standing by for her,” Tasha said with a smile.
“I’ll be back by ten, Uncle Leo. You have my cell phone number if anything happens.” LaShaun looked at them both.
“Stay and get some sleep. We’ll call you the minute anything changes, I swear.” Tasha gave her another pat on the shoulder then went back to look in on Monmon Odette. Uncle Leo followed her.
“Your grandmother would want you to take care of yourself,” Chase said softly. “Come on, I’ll drive. You look worn out.”
Part of her wanted to object, but exhaustion gripped her. She walked beside him out of the hospital to the parking lot. LaShaun got into his truck. He slammed the passenger door shut, then got in and drove off. When LaShaun opened her eyes again Chase was gently tugging on her arm. He helped her climb down from on the running board of the truck. They were at his house.
“This isn’t a smart idea for a lot of reasons. Your boss is already looking at you funny.” LaShaun didn’t resist as he grabbed her hand and led her to the front porch steps. She yawned.
“You shouldn’t be alone after everything that’s happened. Which of your relatives would you like to spend the night with?” Chase unlocked his door and clicked the remote of his security system.
LaShaun faced him once he’d closed the front door. “You’ve got a career and reputation to consider. Not to mention what your family will think.”
“Let me worry about that.” Chase locked the door and set the alarm. “Take a warm relaxing shower, and grab that LSU t-shirt in the top drawer of the dresser. That should fit you like a big sleep shirt. I’ll brew some herbal tea to help us both sleep.”
“Yes sir.” LaShaun saluted.
When he grinned back at her, she felt a rush of pleasure. Chase headed toward the kitchen. “Take your time and let the water work its magic.”
“I still say you should stay away from me,” LaShaun called. When he didn’t turn around, she shrugged and did as instructed.
He was right. Standing under the warm water coming from the rainfall showerhead caused much of the tension in her body to slip away. The master bathroom seemed designed to be a refuge. Soft tan marble surrounded the shower stall. A huge tub with several water jets could easily accommodate two people. Soft lighting and the smell of soap almost made the horrible events of the past few hours slip away. But not quite. LaShaun couldn’t get Sheriff Triche’s words out of her head. She slipped into the t-shirt and went to the vanity. Steam covered the wide oval mirror above the long counter. LaShaun bent over to rummage through a drawer, and finally found a comb and tortoise shell hairbrush. When she looked into the mirror again the outline of a grinning faced stared back at her. She froze for a few seconds then backed away. The comb and brush slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the tile floor.
“Tea’s ready. Hey, you okay in there?” Chase said through the door.
“Uh, uh.” LaShaun pressed her against the wall, breathing in deep gulps of the humid air caused by her shower.
“LaShaun, honey, say something. Let me know you’re okay.”
When he twisted the door knob, LaShaun’s head cleared. She whispered a hasty short prayer Monmon Odette had taught her as a child. Gathering inner strength, she continued to whisper as she angrily swiped at the image on the mirror. The soft tapping stopped. She took a few moments to steady herself.
“I’m, uh, I’m fine; just still a little tired. I’ll be out in a minute.”
When she opened the door Chase pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Of course you’re not okay. You’ve been through hell.”
Before she knew it LaShaun started to cry and shiver. After a few minutes, she pulled herself together. “I’ve got to stop this. I hate going all weepy like an idiot.”
“You’re entitled to be a weepy idiot,” Chase said softly into her hair.
“Oh, gee thanks.” LaShaun laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder . She pushed him away from the bathroom as she looked over her shoulder. “Where’s that tea you promised? Or is making me feel all sentimental just a sneaky way to get me into a wet t-shirt?”
“Hmm, hadn’t thought of that. But even dry you fill out that thing nicely.” Chase grinned as he looked down at her. “To the kitchen, ma’am.”
“I’m following your lead,” LaShaun replied. “I better check to see if Tasha or the nurse called my cell.”
“I checked already, and no, they haven’t called.” Chase pointed to the two steaming mugs on a hot plate. “Your clothes are in the washer.”
“You’re going to spoil me if this keeps up.” LaShaun breathed in the aroma coming from the cup then sipped.
“The way I see it you’re due some TLC.” Chase sat next to on a stool at the counter.
She put down the mug. “Thank you for being so thoughtful, and I know you mean well…”
“Yeah, I do.” Chase took her hands in his.
“But.”
“I could see it coming,” Chase joked.
“Seriously, Chase. You want to run for sheriff, and you should. This parish could use someone like you. I don’t want to be the reason your dream doesn’t come true.” LaShaun pulled away. “I really should drink this tea, wait for my clothes to dry and let you drive me home.”
“That would seem sensible.” Chase brushed her hair behind her right ear. “Except I’m not feeling sensible right now. I can’t turn away when you need a friend.”
“There’s a little matter of my history, Deputy Broussard. Remember I was a suspect in a murder investigation. A lot of folks still believe I was in on it.” LaShaun glanced at the bay window across from them. Was that a flash of something moving, or her imagination? She blinked and saw nothing. Chase’s deep voice soothed her anxiety.
“That was a real whodunit with all kinds of suspects.”
She tensed and stared at him. “What do you think?”
“The Sheriff and the DA got it right. Everything points to Kyle Singleton. He had motive, Trosclair was not only going to fire him, but he made it clear he was going to ruin his career. Singleton had means, and trace evidence in his SUV put Trosclair in it. I doubt he did it alone, but I don’t think you were his accomplice.”
“They could never prove Quentin was involved either, and Singleton wouldn’t talk. He got an expensive attorney. I’m guessing Quentin’s grandmother paid for that in exchange for his silence.”
“Why would she help the man who killed her husband?” Chase frowned.
“They didn’t have a happy marriage. The old man treated the poor woman like dirt, even in front of other people. He thought Quentin was a spoiled screw-up. My guess is she knew Quentin helped him, and she would do anything for her precious only grandson.”
“Sounds like Kyle Singleton solved a nasty problem for them both,” Chase murmured.
“I’d bet that Mrs. Trosclair and Quentin paid him handsomely to do his time and keep his mouth shut. He’ll probably do his fifteen years and head for a nice, sunny beach somewhere with no money worries. ”
“You don’t’ know?” Chase blinked at her in surprise.
“Know what, he’s out on parole?”
“Yeah, you could say that. He left in a body bag. Another prisoner stabbed him to death two weeks before he was going before the parole board. I asked around. Seems the word was he had a good chance of getting out.” Chase stared at her.
“Damn,” LaShaun said and sat back in her chair.
“Bad luck?” Chase’s dark eyebrows arched as he gazed at LaShaun waiting for a reaction.
LaShaun felt a familiar tingle. Of course, Singleton’s murder wasn’t simply bad luck. The image of Quentin’s confident swagger flashed into memory like a bad video re-wind. “His bad luck started when he crossed Claude Trosclair and thought he trust Quentin.”
“Yeah. Singleton didn’t have any incentive to protect you, He could have easily given you up as the murderer. So why didn’t he?”
“He was terrified that I’d put a bad mojo on him?”
Chase grinned and shook his head. “For whatever reason, he didn’t. The file shows the investigators couldn’t connect you to the murder. Sheriff Triche personally checked your alibi, motive and if you had the means. I read the interview transcript. Sheriff Triche told the lead investigator back then not to waste his time. Singleton took a deal and avoided a trial.”
“I see.” LaShaun thought about that file. She would give just about anything to spend time reading every page.
“There are some loose ends, but with Singleton in prison nobody cared. Not Sheriff Triche and not the district attorney. Case closed.” Chase continued to study LaShaun.
“You expect me to spill some secrets and fill in the blanks?” LaShaun said, and then yawned widely.
“I expect you to get some much needed sleep.”
A musical tune made them both jump, then search for their cell phones. Chase grabbed his and held it up. LaShaun stood watching him as the tension in her muscles gripped her gain.
“It’s me. Hello. Yes, sir, I’ll be in at six in the morning. Good night.” Chase ended the call. He looked at LaShaun. “They’ve found a woman’s body. It’s Rita.”
LaShaun’s heart beat so fast her chest hurt. She leaned against the breakfast bar gripping the marble edge. She asked the question though she already knew the answer. “Are they sure?”
Chase nodded then opened his arms. LaShaun shook her head slowly and covered her face with both hands. His strong arms and soothing voice got her through the night.
Chapter 9
The next three days went by fast. LaShaun got through the hours by putting one foot in front of the other. She felt trapped in a heavy fog of misery. Yet, she had to keep going for her grandmother. Decisions had to be made about her medical care, the financial mess Rita created, and how to manage the assets left. The lurid details of Azalei’s injuries and Rita’s murder brought a herd of reporters from as far away as Houston, Texas. The locals were only too happy to fill them in on rumors of voodoo. Claude Trosclair’s murder became news again as well. By Thursday morning, LaShaun had to go through another round of questioning, this time at the Sheriff’s station with the DA sitting in.