“Russ was always so excited about the Society’s plans. I only hope I can help carry out his ideas. What else should I know about the area?” Darby asked.
“First off, this used to be a transit town, with people getting their start in the oil refineries, then moving on. I personally know of a dozen families Russell talked into putting down roots here. He convinced them to buy up some of the old houses around the LSU campus and refurbish them.”
“That’s right,” Darby said. “I remember him talking about how much restoration was being done around campus.”
“It was my idea to come here today to throw a guilt trip on the members. They all thought what Russell did back then was so wonderful. Let’s see if they still think it was wonderful. There is one house in particular that’s owned by one of the oil workers who has fallen on hard times. His house needs a lot of work. I’d personally like to see the committee take it on as our new project.”
“That’s very clever, Simon,” Darby said, getting out of the car. “It’s just a short walk to the quad. Can you make it?”
“Of course I can make it. I’d like you to concentrate your efforts today on Clarice Lafaiete. She might be swayed. There’s our little group,” Simon said, pointing to a small group of women all wearing straw hats with brightly colored ribbons.
Introductions were made as they walked along to Franklin and Anna Baptiste’s sprawling white house with the sagging front porch. The grounds were overgrown, the walkway cracked and broken, large chunks of mortar tossed onto the side. The flower beds were choked with weeds and crabgrass.
“Russell loved this old house. Baptiste got it for a song because it was in such bad condition. Most of what was done was done by him. He’s a proud man, so we’re going to have to be careful how we approach him. He won’t take kindly to charity. The others know the man’s history. I wanted to bring you up to date. See if you can get close to Eleanore.”
The women were chatting among themselves as they made their way up the steps to what should have been a beautiful veranda but was now in need of repair. The beautiful nine-over-nine windows were clean and sparkled as though they’d just been washed. The arched doorway was just as beautiful, but it needed to be sanded and painted. The heavy door reminded Darby of something she’d seen in a monastery.
Simon turned to Darby. “Russell found this door in Charleston, South Carolina. He borrowed a pickup truck from one of his students’ parents and drove there one weekend to fetch it back here. He said he got it for a pittance. It’s beyond gorgeous.”
Darby watched as the women touched the door, whispered among themselves. Twice she heard Russ’s name mentioned. She moved closer to Eleanore and tried to strike up a conversation. “I’m going to do my best to follow in Russell’s footsteps. To do what he wanted. In fact, I’m going to pattern my next dollhouse after some of the old houses the committee has refurbished. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that Russell would be very upset if the committee approves Mrs. Gunn’s application to level the houses on the shoe.”
Eleanore Doucette sniffed and took a step away from Darby. “Young lady, are you trying to get me to change my vote?”
Startled, Darby closed the gap between the two of them. “Yes and no would be my answer, Mrs. Doucette. Russell wouldn’t want the houses torn down. If I’m not mistaken, one of the houses on the shoe was supposed to go to him on his father’s death. The other one was supposed to go to his brother, Ben.”
Eleanore Doucette sniffed again. “Russell is no longer with us, but he lives on in others, thanks to Bella Gunn. For her unselfishness in her hour of grief, the very least we can do for her is to allow her to refurbish the houses. I know a thing or two about the donor program since a family member has been a donor recipient. So, if you’re fishing to find out if I’ll change my mind, the answer is no.”
Darby could feel her shoulders start to droop. She forced herself to listen to Simon going on about the magnificent pine flooring and the fabulous crown molding in the foyer. It was beautiful, but the floors needed some work and the crown molding needed to be stripped down and repainted.
How beautiful the staircase was with the carved posts and spindles that looked like they were hand-carved. She made a mental note to try to duplicate the spindles in her next dollhouse.
As she trudged along behind Simon and the little group she could see Eleanore Doucette whispering to some of the other members. That couldn’t be a good thing. She moved off toward Sarabess and commented on the old fireplace. Sensing an ally, the woman offered her condolences on Russell’s death. Darby was so grateful for her kindness, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s so sad, Russ wouldn’t want…”
“I know, dear.” She winked at Darby and raised her voice slightly. “Tell me, my dear, is it true that your aunts are not going to donate any more money to the Preservation Society. I heard that the other night when I ran into Ethan Fox at the library.”
Darby raised her voice to match Sarabess’s. “That’s what they said. They don’t want the shoe to become an eyesore. They’d rather live with it the way it is.”
Eleanore Doucette whirled around. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, Sarabess, but I couldn’t help but overhear what you said. That’s blackmail, pure and simple.”
“Well, it is their money, now isn’t it, dear? I think you might have forgotten how powerful the Lane sisters are in this town. I think you just might end up eating that provisional license you were so quick to hand out. And while I’m at it, Eleanore, I’m withdrawing my house from the Christmas Candlelight Tour just the way the Lane sisters are.” Sarabess looked to Darby for confirmation, and Darby nodded. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have to be going. Simon, I think this is a worthy project. You have my vote.”
“Mine, too,” Darby chirped as she trailed behind the group, before deciding to go off on her own to look over the house. So much could be done here. All it would take was a bucketful of money.
When the tour ended, Darby drew Simon aside out of earshot of the others and told him of her two conversations. The old man winked and grinned. “I definitely feel an attack of gout coming on. We can leave now, young lady.”
“Where are the owners, Simon?”
“In the garden. Both of them are in wheelchairs and pretty much live on the ground floor. I’d like to install a more efficient and better-looking ramp for them. What do you think?”
“Whatever it takes. The committee isn’t going to budge—you know that, right? They’re determined to let Bella proceed with ruining the shoe.”
“Sadly, my dear, I agree. That’s why I’m going to have an attack of gout. A delay is all we can do for the time being.”
Her heart heavy, Darby dreaded telling the aunts that she’d failed.
No one waved good-bye as Darby led the old man to her car. “This is beyond sad,” she muttered. “Bella has brainwashed the committee. They keep using the wordrefurbish, but Bella Gunn wants to level the two houses. She’s not interested in refurbishing them. Don’t they understand the difference? Why else would she have a wrecking ball right there at the top of the shoe? Two wild swings of that ball and the houses are splinters. If that happens, it’s too late, those lovely old homes will be gone.”
“I tried to tell the others the same thing. They said that would never happen.”
“It will happen, Simon.”
“I know, my dear. We need to put on our thinking caps.”
If Darby wasn’t feeling so angry and frustrated, she would have laughed at Simon’s old-world attitude.
She was beaten, and she knew it.
Ducky Lane checked her makeup and hair before she got out of the car. At the last minute, she decided to drive to New Orleans instead of calling around for a private detective. She knew both her sisters were going to pitch a fit, but she felt strongly that the fewer people who knew about their business, the better off they were. And, this way, she could actually interview the detective. If she didn’t like what she saw, she’d m
ove on to another agency. Spilling her family secrets wasn’t exactly something she looked forward to. Plus, everyone knew private detectives were generally a sleazy lot.
Ducky took time to wonder what this man would think when she came right out and said she wanted him to find information on Bella Gunn that she could use to discredit the woman before she ruined the houses on the shoe. Ducky looked up at what looked like a private home in the French Quarter, to the second-floor balcony, which was overflowing with flowering plants. Such an odd place for a detective agency. The building appeared to have been restored, unlike its neighbors on both sides. The brick steps looked like they were scrubbed on a daily basis. The intricate wrought iron looked freshly painted, as did the pristine white door. The brass plate was almost hidden behind a luscious oleander. It was a thick plaque, with black lettering that said BRANDON LAUTRIL, and underneath in smaller letters, the wordINVESTIGATIONS. This was no fly-by-night agency, Ducky decided as she rang the bell. She was glad now that she had dressed for a day in the Big Easy.
A tall man dressed in a three-piece, lightweight, summer suit, with pale blue shirt and striped tie, opened the door. Ducky sucked in her breath. She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen such a handsome man his age, which she quickly estimated to be close to her own. A crop of pure white hair adorned his head. He smiled. “You must be Miss Lane. Please come in. I’m Brandon Lautril. Can I offer you some refreshments? I stock your family’s beer, if that will help you make a decision.”
Ducky smiled, her dimples showing. “In that case, by all means.” So, he’d checked her out after her phone call. She wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not.
“I’ll be right back. I’m afraid today, actually all week, I’m on my own here. My secretary is on vacation until the middle of next week and my assistant is up north on a case. Please forgive me if I muddle through this.” To prove that he was muddling, he managed to find the beer but couldn’t locate the glasses. He looked at Ducky, a helpless expression on his face.
Ducky smiled. “I’m used to drinking out of the bottle. Not very ladylike, I grant you, but sometimes it’s necessary.” She accepted the bottle and took a healthy swig, as did Lautril. The detective motioned to one of two deep, comfortable easy chairs. When Ducky was seated, he settled himself across from her.
“This is very nice,” Ducky said, looking around. “It isn’t what I expected.”
Lautril smiled. “Were you expecting a grizzled, cigar-chomping, gun-toting detective in a sleazy dark room with a whirring fan overhead?”
Ducky laughed. “I think that’s exactly what I was expecting. Do you live here?” she asked, waving her arm about.
“I use the two front rooms for the business. The back end of the house and, of course, the second floor are my personal quarters. Later, if you like, I can show you my courtyard garden. It’s quite remarkable. Now, Miss Lane, tell me how I can help you.”
Ducky drew a deep breath, her chest expanding, her cleavage obvious. For once in her life, she wasn’t thinking about her person but about the matter at hand.
Lautril listened attentively, neither taking notes nor asking questions. The minute Ducky finished her account, she took a deep swallow of beer. “I know it’s been twenty-five years, but do you think you can find out anything on Bella Gunn?”
“I can certainly try. That poor young man. I understand your family’s anguish. In today’s high-tech world, I have more tools at my disposal than my family did when they were in business. How soon would you like me to complete the investigation?”
“I think I speak for my sisters when I say we’d rather you be thorough than rush through things, but time is of the essence. Now, how much is your retainer?”
To Ducky’s credit, she didn’t blink an eye at the astronomical number Lautril mentioned. All she could hope for was that she would get her money’s worth. She stood up and thanked the detective for the beer. They shook hands. Was it her imagination or did he hold her hand a bit longer than necessary? She suddenly felt flustered and wasn’t sure why. Sixty-nine years old, and she was flustered!
“I’ll be in touch sometime late tomorrow. I expect I’ll be driving up to Baton Rouge. I think I want to see this lady with my own eyes.” A smart-ass retort in regard to Bella Gunn was on Ducky’s lips, but she decided not to utter it. She looked into the rich brown eyes that were staring down at her.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Not a problem, dear lady, nothing much goes on during the dog days of August. Two weeks from now, that’s something different. I’ll be in touch.”
Three hours later, Ducky drove into the alley behind the houses on the shoe. Darby was back, and so were her sisters. That had to mean Ben was at Dodo’s. She walked up the path to Diddy’s house. She tossed her straw hat onto the table and asked for a very cold beer. “I’ve been to N’awlins, ladies, and I hired us a dee-tective who almost blew my socks off. Wait till I tell you…”
It was six o’clock when Ben turned off the computer in Dodo’s home office. He leaned back in the swivel chair to stare at the framed photos on the wall. They were all of Dodo at various martial arts events. As his gaze raked over the photos, he found himself in awe of the little woman. That she had the nerve back in her youth to go into martial arts must have taken not only sheer guts but courage as well. For some reason, his gaze kept going back to one particular photo, actually a series of photos that hung on the wall over the computer. He decided they must be special in some way. A student dressed in white with different-colored belts. From the age of four till the student was in his early twenties, he assumed. Maybe it was the child/young man who was special. He made a mental note to ask Dodo who it was.
Ben reached for the sheaf of papers he’d printed out for Darby. He scanned them, his heart heavy.
“Ben.” Dodo’s voice startled him from his musings.
Ben whirled around. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your computer, Dodo. I told Darby I would see what I could find out about organ transplants.” He held out the stack of papers. “Are you going somewhere?” He eyed the black bag at her feet.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Dodo said vaguely. “Ducky and Diddy want to go to Rayne to see Trixie and Fred. Just for a day or so. You don’t mind, do you, Ben?”
“No, of course not. Trixie and Fred are your mystery-writer friends, right?”
“Right. Trixie and Fred are retired now. No more blood and guts or chain-saw murders. They train K-9 police dogs now.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Yes, it is interesting,” Dodo said vaguely. “I’ll call.”
“Okay. Is there anything you want me to do while you’re gone?”
“No, I don’t think so. Keep your eye on that work crew out front and don’t let them touch those houses.”
“Okay, I can handle that. Is something bothering you, Dodo?”
“Well, hell yes, Ben, there are a lot of things bothering me. That mess out front, your brother’s death, that wicked stepmother of yours, and canceling my trip to Japan. But I’ll survive. Family comes first, no matter what. Maybe you should take Darby out to a nice dinner. She likes Armand’s. You know, a dress-up dinner. A date, Ben,” Dodo said sharply.
“Oh. All right, I’ll ask her. Have a nice trip. Tell Trixie I’ve read all her books.”
“I’ll do that. I’ll try. With my sisters, you never know!” Dodo said with a laugh. “Like I said, I’ll call.”
Ben walked Dodo to the kitchen, where he watched her cross the yard to where her two sisters were waiting. Darby was right, the three of them were up to something, and he didn’t have a clue as to what it was. With Dodo’s suggestion ringing in his ears, he himself walked across the yard and around back, to where Darby had her little studio. He didn’t have to shout or knock. Willie’s bark was announcement enough. Darby looked up from what she was doing and smiled as she beckoned him to come indoors.
“I came to invite you to dinner.
”
Darby wiped her hands on a wet cloth. “The idea of food sounds wonderful. But how would you feel about a loaded pizza and some ice-cold beer as opposed to going out? They can deliver, and we can sit on the front porch. Kind of like a picnic.”
“It sounds like a plan. I can do pizza. Are you sure you’d rather not go out to eat?”
Darby smiled as she bent down to tickle Willie behind his ears. “I’m sure. I have the pizza parlor on my speed dial. When I’m here working by myself, I order on a regular basis. They deliver in those hot bags. It’s your four food groups,” she said airily.
“This new commission looks like it’s going to be complicated,” Ben said as he walked around Darby’s worktable. He looked up at the dollhouse on the pedestal.
“Do you remember the Christmas the aunts said we had to make gifts for each other with our own hands, and it had to be from our hearts, Darby?”
“Sure,” she answered with a smile. “We weren’t allowed to buy anything. We even had to use our imaginations for the wrapping paper. That had to have been the ultimate challenge for a kid. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about it.”
“Even Russ was beside himself. We would talk under the covers at night. I can’t tell you how frazzled we both were,” Ben said, and a faint blush came to his cheeks. “Anyway, I carved you a bench for the dollhouse. As I recall, it was pretty ugly. The paint job wasn’t much better. I wrapped it in the comic pages, and when you opened it, you said you loved it. You ran right up to the dollhouse and squeezed it through the opening, which wasn’t easy since I made it a little too big. You gave me such a beautiful smile. I think that was the moment I fell in love with you. I was snooping around your dollhouses the other day and imagine my surprise when I saw that you still have that bench in the dollhouse. I guess you couldn’t get it out, huh?”
Darby’s jaw dropped, her eyes popped wide. She struggled to say something light and teasing, but her tongue felt so thick she could barely speak. “You fell in love with me! I wish you had told me. I had such a crush on you. You know, boy next door, older boy, that kind of thing. I used to dream about you. You’re right about the bench, I’ve never been able to get it out.”
Hey, Good Looking Page 13