Angel at Risk

by Leann Harris

  “Roger could’ve had them drawn up by his attorney.”

  “Perhaps, but I think no. Look at Lilly’s signature at the bottom. It’s the same on each lease.”

  Damn, if she wasn’t right. “So, these are probably forgeries. Roger must’ve gotten Lawrence to make up these new documents.”

  She tapped her index finger against her lip. “As I recall, Lawrence started driving a grand car about ten years ago. I wondered how he could afford a new Cadillac every two years.”

  “If it’s true, that means Roger’s been collecting money from the oil company for over a decade that he isn’t entitled to.” He banged his fist on the counter. “This has to be what Marianna discovered.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine the scandal this revelation will cause? One big enough to keep Guy out of the governor’s mansion.”

  “You need proof, Jean-Paul.”

  He leaned against the counter. “You’re right. I need to find someone who has a copy of the original lease.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The lease on my land was destroyed years ago, when my dad ripped it up after a binge of drinking. And we can write off the Courville lease. Roger probably has it.”

  “What about the Roucheaux family? Aaron, Émile’s papa, was a stickler on keeping records.”

  Jean-Paul grinned. “You, M’dame, are a jewel.”

  “But of course.”

  A noise came from the hall. Jean-Paul walked to the door, opened it and peered into the corridor. Nothing.

  He turned back to M’dame. “We’d better clean up before someone catches us.”

  “Pshaw. If someone comes in and asks me what I’m doing, I’ll tell them.”

  He had to smile at the woman’s spunk.

  Now that he had the key to the mystery, he needed proof. He prayed Émile Roucheaux still had the original lease, but if he didn’t, Jean-Paul vowed to interview everyone in the parish who had oil discovered on his land and find out if Roger had had the leases doctored. And if he found any discrepancies, he’d have the evidence to bring down Roger Boudreaux.

  As they headed out of the courthouse, the hairs on the back of Jean-Paul’s head stood up. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching them. Although he didn’t see anyone, he couldn’t shake the feeling someone had seen them.

  Chapter 18

  “You will call me, Jean-Paul, after you visit the Roucheaux, and tell me what you have learned.”

  “Yes, M’dame. I promise to call.” Jean-Paul leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “I still think I should go with you,” M’dame Eleanor insisted.

  He shook his head. “I worry that I’ve put you in too much danger as it is. If Roger discovers what we suspect, we might also have fatal accidents.”

  She waved away his concern. “Too many deaths cause questions. And Roger has always been too smart for this town’s good.”

  He had to smile at her gumption. “And I, M’dame, am still as hardheaded as ever. I will go alone.”

  “If you forget to call me, I’ll have your hide, jeune homme.”

  “I swear to call.”

  “Bien.”

  Jean-Paul climbed in his truck and headed for the Roucheaux place on the far side of the parish. He’d just turned onto the main parish road when the sheriff’s car raced up behind him, his lights flashing, his siren going. Jean-Paul pulled over.

  What now? he wondered as he waited for the sheriff to approach the truck.

  “Get out,” Dennis commanded.

  Resting his wrist on the steering wheel, Jean-Paul asked, “Why?”

  “Because I said so, Delahaye. Now, out.”

  “Am I under arrest, sheriff?” Jean-Paul asked.

  Dennis drew his gun and pointed it at Jean-Paul’s chest. “Get out.”

  A chill ran down Jean-Paul’s back. “What do you plan to do, Dennis? Shoot me right here on a frequently traveled road, in broad daylight? Why, that isn’t your style, is it? You like shooting your opposition from behind a tree.”

  Dennis shoved the gun in Jean-Paul’s face. “Leroy,” he called to the deputy in the sheriff’s car. “Get out here and put the cuffs on this man, then put him in the back seat of the cruiser.”

  Leroy immediately complied with the order, cuffing Jean-Paul’s hands behind his back. Jean-Paul didn’t fight because he didn’t have any doubt that Dennis would blow him away and have some plausible excuse as to why he did it. Leroy stuffed him into the back seat and slammed the door.

  “Now, get rid of that truck,” Dennis commanded his deputy.

  As Jean-Paul watched Leroy climb into his truck, a knot formed in his stomach. Dennis slid behind the wheel of the sheriff’s car. He threw Jean-Paul a wicked smile. “Why don’t we go see Roger? He might like to know how you spent your afternoon.”

  “So that was you I heard in the hall,” Jean-Paul replied.

  “That’s what I’m supposed to do, guard this town and stop lawbreakers.”

  “No, Dennis, that’s not what your job is. Your job is to protect Roger Boudreaux’s backside.”

  Dennis looked into the rearview mirror and grinned. “You got it, which means yours is cooked.”

  Jean-Paul was afraid Dennis was right.

  * * *

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  Angie set her fork down and looked at her father. They were sitting in a glass-enclosed porch, green plants growing in abundance all around them. A ceiling fan gently moved the air throughout the room.

  She hadn’t realized her feelings were that transparent. She felt lost and unsure of who she was. Her calm, ordered life had been tossed to the four winds, and she was acting on gut instinct, which was 180° opposite of how she normally operated. Usually, she carefully considered each decision, weighed the pros and cons, and came to a conclusion. This past week she hadn’t had time to ponder anything but had been forced to go on her feelings instead.

  But was she any good at gut reactions? Or had she ended up on the short end of the stick yet again?

  “Yes, I do,” she quietly answered. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “Yes. And he thinks I’m just reacting to the pressure of the situation.”

  Guy reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t give up on him, Angeline. I didn’t fight hard enough to keep Marianna, and I have regretted it all my life. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

  A tear ran down her cheek. It was as she suspected. Guy had loved her mother. “Thank you for telling me that.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Angie saw the sheriff’s car stop in the driveway. She started to look away, but when Dennis pulled a cuffed man out of the back seat, Angie stood.

  “That’s Jean-Paul!” she gasped. “Why does Dennis have handcuffs on him?” She turned to Guy. “What’s going on? If Dennis is arresting Jean-Paul, why’d he bring him here?” She headed for the door.

  “I don’t know,” Guy said, following her.

  They ran into the men in the hall. Dennis cursed.

  “It’s going to be kinda hard to kill me now, isn’t it, Dennis?” Jean-Paul quietly said. “You’ve got witnesses.”

  “Shut your face,” Dennis snarled.

  “What’s going on, Dennis?” Guy asked, stepping forward.

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself about, Guy. This is just something between your papa and this con.”

  “I’ve discovered why Marianna was killed,” Jean-Paul said, his gaze locking with Angie’s.

  Dennis’s fist smashed into Jean-Paul’s mouth. Angie cried out and flung herself at the sheriff. He shook her off as he would a fly and drew his pistol before anyone else could move.

  “You just signed the little lady’s death warrant, Delahaye,” Dennis snapped. He motioned with the gun. “Everyone, get in the library. We’re gonna wait on Roger.”

  Jean-Paul cursed himself for being a fool. He should have kept his big mouth shut, and maybe Dennis would have let Angeline go. Instead
, he’d tried a power play and lost. Unfortunately, his Angel would have to pay for his mistake. Just as Marianna had. The thought made him sick.

  The four filed into the room. Jean-Paul settled on the leather couch. When Angeline tried to sit beside him, Dennis waved her away. “Sit over there in that chair in the corner.”

  She obeyed. Guy stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder. Jean-Paul prayed that if Guy had any courage, it would surface now.

  “What’s going on here?” Guy demanded. “Why have you brought Jean-Paul here?”

  Before Dennis could do more than open his mouth, Jean-Paul answered, “He caught me before I could blow the whistle on your father.” Maybe if Guy knew what was going down, he’d stop the sheriff. “It was a smart move on Dennis’s part. If I’d interviewed the Roucheaux family, the cat would’ve been let out of the bag. Then everyone would know about the oil leases.”

  Angeline leaned forward in the chair. “What did you learn about them, Jean-Paul?”

  “Shut up,” Dennis barked. “No talking.”

  Jean-Paul sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa cushion, his manacled hands making it impossible for him to be comfortable.

  “Could you at least take the cuffs off him?” Angeline implored Dennis.

  “No. He’d just try to wrestle this peashooter outta my hand, and I can’t have that, now, can I?”

  “It’s the only way Dennis can even the odds,” Jean-Paul said.

  Dennis backhanded Jean-Paul with the barrel of the pistol, knocking him to the floor. Angie cried out and surged to her feet.

  Pointing the gun at her, Dennis ordered, “Stay where you are.”

  All color fled Angeline’s face and Jean-Paul saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Dennis, just because you’re the sheriff doesn’t mean—” Guy began.

  “Your daddy needs to explain a few things to you, Junior. Until he does, keep your trap shut.” Dennis emphasized his words by jabbing his pistol in the air toward Guy and Angeline.

  Jean-Paul sat up, then placed his elbow on the cushion and awkwardly levered himself onto the couch. The gash had opened up on his cheek and bled freely.

  Angeline stepped forward. “At least let me stop the bleeding.”

  “Why?” Dennis asked. “He’s gonna be dead pretty soon.”

  Guy gasped, his cheeks paling, and in spite of his disgust with the man’s spineless behavior, Jean-Paul knew Guy had realized for the first time the seriousness of the situation. He could almost feel sorry for the man. Almost.

  Jean-Paul looked up at Dennis. “Roger wouldn’t want me bleeding all over his expensive carpet and implicating him in a felony.”

  Dennis gave the words a moment of thought, then nodded his head. “All right, but no tricks.”

  Angeline turned to Guy. “Is there a towel or something I can use?”

  The tremor of fear in her voice hurt Jean-Paul more than the wound on his face.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Dennis nodded at Guy. “You go get something.”

  Guy nodded and hurried out of the room. Apparently, Dennis didn’t think Guy posed any threat. He couldn’t blame Dennis for the assumption. After several minutes Guy returned.

  “What took you so long?” Dennis demanded.

  Guy handed Angie a white hand towel. “I had to go looking for this. The maid forgot to put out clean towels this morning.”

  A look passed between father and daughter, and Jean-Paul had the craziest impression that Guy was telling Angeline to hold on and not give up.

  She hurried to Jean-Paul’s side and pressed the towel to his cheek.

  “How are you?” she asked through her tears.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her that everything was going to be all right. But it wasn’t. They were going to be gator bait, and it was his fault. If he hadn’t persisted in his belief that Marianna had been murdered, Angeline wouldn’t be facing the danger she was now.

  “Cut the chatter,” Dennis commanded. “Get away from him.”

  Angie pulled away the towel from Jean-Paul’s cheek. Most of the bleeding had stopped. As she stood, Jean-Paul whispered, “Run if you get the chance.”

  Before she could respond, Dennis stepped between them and pulled Angeline back to her chair.

  The minutes ticked by in painful silence. Angie fought to remain calm. She tried to imagine what Jean-Paul had discovered about the oil leases that would sign their death warrants.

  Her gazed locked with his. Regret showed in his eyes. Angie wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it all. Just when she had found the love of her life, it appeared it would be snatched away.

  They waited for over an hour. Finally, they heard Roger in the hallway. Dennis hurried to the door and opened it. “Roger,” he called.

  “What are you doing here, Dennis?” Roger asked, strolling into the room. He stopped, taking in the scene before him. Carefully closing the door, his face tight with anger, Roger demanded, “What the hell is going on here?”

  Dennis pointed with his gun. “Delahaye and M’dame Eleanor were checking oil leases this afternoon at the courthouse. After he dropped the old lady off, I picked him up before he could talk to Émile Roucheaux.”

  Roger swung around to face Jean-Paul. “Why were you going to see him?”

  “I was going to see if he had a copy of the lease on his land and see if the length on it was the same as the one recorded in the J-Book in the parish records. Those leases were for fifty years, weren’t they, Roger? That would mean you’ve been taking money illegally for more than the last decade.”

  Guy stepped forward. “What’s he talking about, Father?”

  Roger pinned Guy with a hard look. “Nothing. He’s just blowing smoke.”

  “Pretty smart of you to have Lawrence Rush forge the length of those leases,” Jean-Paul continued. “Too bad Lawrence is such a fool in the way he spends his money. The parade of new Cadillacs he’s owned over the last decade was a dead giveaway that he’d been bought.”

  Angie’s heart thudded. So that was the secret that had cost her mother her life. Oil leases.

  Roger glared at Jean-Paul, hatred burning brightly in his eyes. If looks could kill, he’d be dead.

  “Is what he says true, Father?” Guy quietly asked.

  Roger turned toward his son. “Get out of here and don’t ask any questions. I’ll take care of this.”

  The brusque tone gave no recognition of their relationship, and Angie ached for her father. It was painfully clear what Roger thought of his son.

  Before Guy could respond, Jean-Paul spoke. “Nobody would’ve ever known, if Marianna hadn’t stumbled onto the truth when she was writing the parish history. What did she find, Roger? Was it an unchanged lease, or a letter, or maybe a diary entry stating the length of the lease?”

  Something flickered in Roger’s eyes at the mention of a diary.

  Jean-Paul stood. “Whose diary was it?”

  An evil grin split the old man’s face. “I donated my sister’s papers to the historical society. Imagine my surprise when she mentioned the leases.”

  “And because Marianna read your sister’s diary and knew the truth, you had her killed.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jean-Paul saw Guy stagger and Angeline reach out to support him. Damn. He was hoping Guy would at least be strong enough to save his Angel, even if he was a dead duck.

  Roger shrugged.

  “It must’ve come as quite a shock when Edward called to tell you what Marianna had discovered.” Jean-Paul was making a wild stab in the dark. “What amazes me was how fast you were able to mobilize your cronies and have her killed.”

  “I’ll admit to nothing.” Roger shot Dennis a killing look. “This is your fault. You had several chances to stop this.”

  Jean-Paul turned to the sheriff. “So it was you who torched Marianna’s house and shot at us last night.”

  Dennis responded with a cold smile.

  Jean-Paul heard Angeline moan.
It was tough facing the man who’d tried twice to kill you.

  Guy stumbled forward to grasp his father’s arm. “You had Marianna killed?”

  “Oh, shut up.” He shook off Guy’s hand, staring at him with utter disgust. “Crawl back into your whiskey bottle and leave this to me.”

  “No, dammit. I want an answer. Did you have Marianna killed?”

  Roger’s control snapped. “Yes, I had that little troublemaker killed. She’d been a pain in my side ever since I discovered you’d gotten her pregnant. I was lucky Dr. Lewis came and told me about it. I gave her money and the name of a doctor in New Orleans who could get rid of it. I thought she had until she—” he pointed to Angeline “—arrived in town.”

  “You wanted Marianna to abort the baby?”

  Jean-Paul shivered at the thought. Roger had once again demonstrated what a bastard he was.

  “Marianna couldn’t help you. She’d have just dragged you down with her. I was lucky to talk Catlin’s father into allowing you to marry her on so short a notice.”

  Jean-Paul took several steps forward. “Who’d you have kill Marianna?”

  Roger’s gaze touched Dennis, then returned to Jean-Paul.

  Dennis poked his gun into Jean-Paul’s stomach. His grin was malicious and gleeful. “I did. It’s handy being the sheriff.” He seemed to enjoy bragging about his feat. “I ran up behind her with my lights goin’ and stopped her. It was nothing to hit her on the head and push her car into the bayou.”

  Rage exploded in Jean-Paul’s head. His lips pulled back and he snarled at Dennis. Lowering his head, Jean-Paul rammed his shoulder into the sheriff’s stomach. The gun discharged as the two men fell to the floor.

  The pistol fell out of Dennis’s hand and slid across the floor. Angie and Roger went for the weapon at the same time. Roger reached it first and immediately aimed it at Angie.

  “Stay back.” He looked at the men on the floor. Dennis’s blows went unanswered and unchallenged, since Jean-Paul’s hands were still cuffed behind his back. “That’s enough, Dennis. Come on. Get up and let’s get these two out of here. Then you can go take care of that old hag who was with Delahaye.”