by Lynn Emery
Savannah met her at the station. Within ten minutes, they were ushered into an interview room. Scott Hazelton, the new DA who had won election with his tough on crime stance, wore a suitably grim expression. Sheriff Triche’s face had deep lines etched into it and dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked grayish. LaShaun wondered if he could make it through the next hour, much less another seven months until he retired. Deputy Gautreau stood to the right of the DA with a satisfied look stamped on his broad features. A young woman with shoulder length blonde hair in a dark gray suit sat next to the DA. Introduced as Brenda Crandall, she was Hazelton’s assistant DA.
Sheriff Triche led the questioning and started with broad strokes, where had LaShaun been and with whom. He didn’t ask about Rita or Azalei at first. Then the DA stepped in. He narrowed the focus to LaShaun’s conflict with both victims. The assistant DA took over with more questions. After forty-five minutes, Savannah stopped writing and interrupted the interrogation.
“Okay, now you’re asking the same questions in a different way. My client won’t give different answers. So just let me sum this up and save us all time.” Savannah consulted her notes on a yellow legal pad. “You have no physical evidence implicating my client. Nothing proves my client had the means to commit the assault or murder. You don’t even know if the two women were together when they were attacked, or if we’re talking about two different perpetrators, and Ms. Rousselle’s motive is shaky.”
“Circumstantial evidence sends a lot of people to prison,” Deputy Gautreau replied. He ignored the way Sheriff Triche frowned at him.
“We’re asking Ms. Rousselle questions so we can follow all leads. Your client did have heated confrontations more than once with both the victims. So it’s only natural that we’d talk to her.” The DA wore an impassive expression. “And we appreciate your client’s willingness to cooperate.”
“Good. So I’d say we’re done here.” Savannah zipped the leather portfolio that held her legal pad, picked up her purse, and stood. LaShaun followed her lead and also stood.
Deputy Gautreau stepped forward to block the exit. “Wait a damn minute, she ain’t just walkin’ outta here. She threatened both the victims about the old lady’s money. Who else could have done it?”
“That would be your job to find out, deputy,” Savannah shot back. “And you’d be doing it a whole lot better if you didn’t jump to conclusions based on rumor and gossip. Goodbye, Sheriff. Mr. Hazleton. Let’s go LaShaun.”
In spite of Deputy Gautreau’s menacing glare, Savannah went around him and opened the door to the interview room. She and LaShaun walked out. Sheriff Triche pulled one hand over his face and let out grunt. The DA and his assistant stood.
“We’ll be in touch,” Hazelton called out.
“Fine,” Savannah replied over her shoulder as she kept walking. Once they were outside in the early spring sunshine Savannah let out a noisy breath. “Meet me at my office.”
LaShaun, still shaken, nodded. She climbed in her SUV and made the short drive to downtown Beau Chene. She found a parking spot on the street about a half block from Savannah’s office. Judging by the stares she got as she walked along the sidewalk the word was out. Savannah arrived in her car and went around to park behind the office. LaShaun went in first and Savannah came in minutes after. Savannah’s paralegal was on the phone in the small lobby, the edge of frustration clear in his tone. He hung up and it rung again. Buttons on three the two extra lines were blinking.
“Reporters have been blowing up the phone all morning. How did they know y’all left the sheriff’s station so fast?” Jarius, Savannah’s young paralegal, shook his head.
“You kidding me? In this town I’d be surprised if they didn’t have my shoe size by now.” Savannah marched to her office. She dropped the portfolio on the desk and put her purse in a drawer. She was about to sit at down, but changed her mind. “ Hey Jarius, lock the front door in case some of them come calling.”
“You got it, boss,” Jarius said. Seconds later he knocked then came in with two frosted mugs and bottles of root beer. He put the tray on the edge of Savannah’s desk and left just as quickly.
LaShaun sat down in one of the leather chairs. “This is bad.”
“If you mean the case against you is bad, you’re right.” Savannah poured the root beer from the bottles into the two mugs. She picked up one, drank and sighed then sat at her desk. “Now you know another reason I hired that young man. He knows what a boss wants, and when she wants it.”
For the first time LaShaun smiled, but it didn’t last. She grabbed the mug. “Nice to have somebody you can count on.”
Savannah looked at her for few moments. “How are you holding up?”
“Other than being a police suspect in two major crimes? Life is good.” LaShaun lost her taste for the root beer.
“Not to mention worrying about your grandmother,” Savannah said.
“I don’t care about being questioned because I didn’t do anything. Not that I didn’t get mad enough to give them both a good butt kicking.”
“Let’s keep that kind of talk within these four walls.” Savannah pointed at her.
“Okay, okay.” LaShaun took a deep breath. “What I mean is we had our differences, but doing something so monstrous would never enter my mind.”
“Good, good. That’s a perfect quotable statement.” Savannah nodded, and put down her mug to scribble notes.
“It happens to be true. Or does my lawyer think I did it?”
Savannah stopped writing. “No, I don’t. You’ve changed. If I didn’t think that I would have referred you to another lawyer.”
“That makes two of us in the entire state that believes I’m innocent.” LaShaun massaged the tightness in her neck with both hands.
“Three. Deputy Broussard is in your corner.” Savannah wore a slight frown and tapped one foot.
“I hear the silent ‘but’ hanging from that statement.”
“It could complicate matters. Especially for him, but I’m sure he knows that. Of course, it could be a good thing. He’s well liked around here. From what I hear, most of his support comes from younger people, and the growing retiree population that has moved from outside the parish. In fact a lot of them are from other states.” Savannah rocked her chair back and forth. “I don’t know. Maybe his belief in you could be a plus.”
“Or they could question his judgment, maybe even his integrity.” LaShaun got up and stared out of the window at the quaint downtown so carefully created by the chamber of commerce, and other town leaders. “Do they want a sheriff whose lover is voodoo priestess and two time murder suspect?”
The lawyer’s eyebrows shot up. “So things have progressed that far. Yeah, that’s could be a definite problem.”
“You think?” LaShaun retorted with a sharp laugh. “The word ‘problem’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Savannah cleared her throat. “Maybe y’all should take a break until things cool down and we find out what really happened.”
“I’ve told him that.” LaShaun felt a hollow sensation at the thought. “
“And of course being a sensible lawman he agrees?”
LaShaun faced Savannah. “No, and it scares me more than just about anything else. I don’t want to ruin any more lives than I already have.”
“You pulled some tricks in your day, but that’s a little dramatic.” Savannah raised a hand. “Let me finish. I’ll admit that for a long time I believed that maybe you killed Claude Trosclair, but then that didn’t add up. So I thought maybe you’d put Quentin up to it. But, let’s be real, Quentin hated his grandfather. He wanted the family fortune, so he didn’t need any encouragement.”
“But I may have set events in motion.” LaShaun swallowed hard. “And now I’m back and this happens.”
“You’re taking on too much guilt.” Savannah shook her head.
“Sometimes the evil we set loose just keeps on causing destruction. I don’t want to be the cause of a
nymore casualties, especially not Chase.” LaShaun squeezed her eyes shut, but not tight enough to stop the tears.
“Then stop it.”
LaShaun opened her eyes, and Savannah was standing in front of her with a wad of tissues in one hand. She gazed at Savannah in silence for a few moments then took the tissue, and wiped her eyes. “What did you just say?”
“I’m guessing either you know a way to fight back, or can figure it out,” Savannah said. Gone was the educated, modern woman. Savannah had grown up in the bayou country like LaShaun. Like other natives, she didn’t dismiss the folk tales and ways of the past as superstitious nonsense. Though outsiders found it strange, people of the swamps saw no conflict between conventional religion and the old beliefs in the spirit world. In fact, both traditions agreed, the battle between good and evil was real, and constant.
LaShaun breathed in and out to steel herself. “Yes. I’ve got to find a way.”
* * *
Monmon Odette still lay in the critical care unit of Vermilion Hospital on the day of Rita’s funeral. The stroke left her in weak on the right side of her body, and unable to speak clearly. Though they hadn’t told her about Azalei and Rita, LaShaun sensed she knew something terrible had happened. Uncle Leo and Uncle Albert shocked LaShaun by being supportive. Then the logic behind their behavior became clear. LaShaun controlled Monmon Odette’s considerable estate. Her seemingly supportive uncles had their own interests in mind.
LaShaun came out of the critical care unit. She dressed in a simple black skirt and blouse for the funeral. Both uncles were in the hallway wearing dark suits talking low to each other. Except for their differences in height, they looked alike. They wore twin solemn expressions as well. Uncle Leo saw LaShaun first. He nodded in her direction, and touched his brother on the shoulder. Uncle Albert stopped talking and they walked toward her.
“You sure going to the funeral is a good idea, Cher?” Uncle Leo’s tone was soothing. “Some raw feelings about all this mess with the family, you know.”
“Yeah, La-La,” Uncle Albert put in, using LaShaun’s childhood nickname that no one had called her in years.
“I’m not going to hide out like I did something wrong.” LaShaun looked at them both. “Rita might have done some things that I didn’t like, but she was family. I’m going to pay my respects.”
“Then good thing we stopped by. We’ll go with you. Leave your vehicle here. I’ll drive us in my truck.” Uncle Leo nodded as though that settled the question.
“Thanks.”
LaShaun allowed him to hook his large hand under her elbow and lead the way. They all got into Uncle Leo’s his fancy dark green special edition Ford F10 truck with an extended cab. In spite of her cynicism about their solicitous behavior, LaShaun was still grateful for their presence. They arrived at St. Augustine Catholic Church. Most of the mourners had already entered so they attracted little attention at first. Uncle Albert led them to a seat at the end of the middle row of pews, the section reserved for the family. A distant middle-aged cousin, Esmee sat on the other end with her adult daughter. When she noticed LaShaun between Uncle Leo and Uncle Albert her eyes widened, and she whispered to her daughter. Within seconds, the news passed up the family section. Heads swiveled back, and the murmuring continued until the priest spoke. Rita’s mother, Aunt Shirl, softly wept throughout the short mass. She leaned against Rita’s stepfather. Rita’s two half-sisters took turns sitting next to their mother to console her.
The small church resonated with the solemn notes from an organ as the service ended. Pallbearers rolled the casket out to the waiting hearse. Most of the mourners walked the short distance to the nearby church cemetery. Thirty minutes later. it was over. Rita was in the ground, and LaShaun was no closer to seeing the truth. She’d hoped that some message might come through, especially in the graveyard, but nothing. No chills along her spine, no prickle up her arms or strange shimmers in the air.
In spite of Uncle Leo and Uncle Albert protesting she was pushing her luck, LaShaun insisted they attend the repast. Family and friends had prepared a wonderful buffet of foods. The family was served first, and then the other mourners helped themselves. Rita’s mother waved away a plate of food one of her daughters tried to give her. Then she spotted LaShaun. Conversation died away like a ripple through the crowd. When Aunt Shirl stood, her daughters and husband argued with her. Finally, she cut all three off.
“I said no. Now hush.” Aunt Shirl brushed her youngest daughter’s hand away. “Go on now, Chelette.” Then she walked over to LaShaun.
“Maybe we better leave,” Uncle Albert mumbled low to Uncle Leo.
“Let me talk to her first.” Uncle Leo wore a smile as he walked to meet Aunt Shirl.
“Leo, thank you for comin’,” Aunt Shirl said, but went past him to LaShaun. “You and me need to talk. We’ll go in one of these rooms.”
“I know you’re upset, Shirl. But don’t believe all kinds of wild talk going around.” Uncle Albert motioned to Uncle Leo, who still stood in the middle of the hall looking stunned.
“I’m talkin’ to LaShaun in private. Just stay out of this.”
Aunt Shirl stared at them until they both took a step back. Then she jerked a thumb at LaShaun before going into the office. LaShaun followed her, closed the door, and steeled herself for an attack. Instead, Aunt Shirl sank onto a small sofa and closed her eyes.
“Before you say anything, Aunt Shirl, let me just say I would never have hurt Rita, not that way. We got into a fight sure, but I didn’t… I couldn’t.” LaShaun stopped when Aunt Shirl looked up.
“Rita had it hard. I realize that now,” Aunt Shirl said; her voice hoarse with emotion. “Her daddy and your mama looked so much alike, with that wild kind of good looks that made folks stare at ‘em. Robert Rousselle had me with just one little old smile.”
LaShaun sat down on one of the folding chairs in the room. “I don’t really remember Uncle Robert. He wasn’t around much when I was a kid.”
“Humph, that says it all. Robert wasn’t around much for anybody. He was too busy gambling, drinking, and going from club to club. But he could sing and play that guitar.” Aunt Shirl sighed. “Rita didn’t know him much better than you. Then I married, had more kids. She always felt like the red-headed stepchild as the old saying goes.”
“And that Monmon Odette favored me,” LaShaun said.
“Well she did. I’m not faulting you for that, but your grandmother should have known better.” Aunt Shirl looked at LaShaun. “But I gotta ask you plain, did you cause this horrible thing to happen to my child?”
“I swear before God, Aunt Shirl, I didn’t have anything to do with Rita’s death. LaShaun leaned forward. “Nothing.”
Aunt Shirl gazed at her in silence for a long time. Someone knocked on the door and she called out, “We’re fine, just leave us for a minute.”
“I want to find out who did this more than anyone, except you.” LaShaun saw the pain in Aunt Shirl’s eyes turned to a flash of anger.
“I want the scum to get the death penalty, and I want him to suffer first.” Aunt Shirl clenched and unclenched her hands several times. Then she sank back against the sofa. “That won’t bring my child back, but at least I’ll get some justice.”
“Do you believe me?” LaShaun said quietly.
Aunt Shirl blinked back from her grief and looked at LaShaun. “Folks will think I’m crazy, or that you put a mojo on me, but I do believe you. Then again, I never cared what folks thought anyway. Listen, Rita had some regrets. She was sorry for throwing in with Azalei and her crowd. She told me so. Seems like Rita didn’t know just how deep the water was until she up to her neck. You know Azalei was running with that Quentin Trosclair.”
“No,” LaShaun replied. She decided not to mention Quentin’s tantalizing hint at some connection between them.
“He’s got more trouble than he’s got money in the bank, and we know he’s got a lot of that.” Aunt Shirl grimaced. “Anyway, Rita said she thou
ght she was having fun at first, but then something happened that made her see her new friends differently.”
“What?” LaShaun felt a prickle along her arms.
Aunt Shirl shook her head slowly. “She wouldn’t go into it, just said she needed to get away from them. From the look on her face, I figured it was bad, but I didn’t push her. Now I wish I had.”
“Did she mention anybody else? That could give the police a clue about who might have attacked them.”
“She didn’t say any other names, but they partied with some others, I do know that much. Look, I told the sheriff that Rita was partying hard, that maybe she dabbled in drugs. The blood tests showed she’d been smoking marijuana and had some other drugs in her system. Now she might have smoked weed, but I don’t believe Rita would use meth or ecstasy. I want her name cleared, LaShaun.”
“Yes, ma’am.” LaShaun nodded. “But why not tell all this to the sheriff?”
“Sheriff Triche is sick. Didn’t you hear? Something about his heart.”
“Too bad.” LaShaun remembered how pale and shaky Sheriff Triche looked a few days ago during her interview. “He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, more fair than any of those previous sheriffs.” Aunt Shirl shrugged. “Time marches on. Anyway, the deputy that’s itching to get the sheriff’s job talked to us. I don’t like him, or trust him either.”
“Deputy Broussard is a good guy, Aunt Shirl.”
“I’m talking about that Gautreau fella. There’s talk that he was partying with Quentin and Azalei, but folks are too scared to do more than whisper that real low; and only to people they trust real good. Quentin and Gautreau both got a reputation for being mean as a bucket of snakes.” Aunt Shirl shook her head slowly. “Something ain’t right. I figure you have a strong reason to find the truth. You don’t want to end up in prison for something you didn’t do.”