by Mary Alfort
“Well, that’s the thing. The Feds believe the calls are in some kind of code. And it was only one aunt. The conversations are all between Deautreve and Thelma, and all they talked about was the weather and his family.”
I closed my eyes.
Thelma?
I could almost picture Selma doing something crazy like this, but not Selma. “Thelma? Thelma wouldn’t know how to create a code, much less stick with it. And she’s never even had a speeding ticket. There must be some mistake.”
“Well, if there is we’d better uncover it soon. The case is scheduled to go before a judge in a month’s time to see if there’s evidence enough to proceed.”
“What? Blake, you can’t let this happen.” My thoughts spun out of control.
“I’m doing what I can, but I need their help. Ask them about Deautreve, and see what they have to say. I’ll stop by tomorrow to go over everything with them. Find me some good news, Laney.”
****
With Thelma still feeling a little fragile, I went to Selma for answers.
“Ramie Deautreve? Don’t recognize the name. Why?”
“Aunt Selma, I need you to think hard. The DA has evidence that ties Thelma to Ramie Deautreve, the alleged crime boss Butchy’s in league with.”
Selma let out a snort. “Now, Laney, how on God’s green earth would Thelma know someone like that?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. Aunt Selma, are you sure you don’t recognize the name?”
“I don’t. We’ll have to talk to Thelma to get to the bottom of this.”
I hesitated. Considering everything going on with Thelma, did we dare confront her with this bit of news? “You think that’s a good idea?”
“You got a better one?”
I released a heavy sigh. “No. How’s she doing?”
Her expression softened the way it always did when she was worried about her sister. I’d seen that same look when Thelma lay at the brink of death from pneumonia my senior year in high school.
“You know Thelma, always acting cheery. Truth be told, I think she’s depressed.”
“Well, this certainly won’t help her outlook any.”
Selma and I waited until after the lunch rush was over to ambush Thelma. I sent Callie and Suzette to the stock room to do inventory while Selma and I took Thelma into my office.
“Aunt Thelma, I need to ask you something about the case.” I studied her demeanor carefully, hoping she’d gotten enough rest, and wasn’t too worried about her ‘condition’, as she called it. “Aunt Thelma, can you tell us how you know Ramie Deautreve?”
“Who?” Thelma had been busy straightening my desk.
“Ramie Deautreve.” I repeated and tried to remain patient as her brows knitted together in confusion.
“Why Laney, I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Selma’s annoyance was growing. “Thelma, cut the bull and think. This is important.”
I threw Aunt Selma an annoyed look, silencing her for the moment. “Aunt Thelma, let me explain. I spoke with Blake Whitney yesterday. He told me the DA has copies of calls you placed to this Ramie Deautreve. It’s important that you remember why you called this person.” As she continued to organize my desk, I placed my hand over hers. “Aunt Thelma, why don’t you sit down a minute and think about it without any distraction.”
She turned on me, her brown eyes filled with fire. I’d never seen her this mad, ever. “Laney McClanahan, I may be old and forgetful, but I’d remember if I’d talked to some strange man.”
I tried not to offend her further. Jake had said anger was a normal reaction for most dementia patients. “Aunt Thelma, I’m not trying to upset you, it’s just that this is important. If we can prove how you know this man, then maybe we can figure out how he knows Butchy. Maybe−”
“I’m telling you both, I don’t know him. So leave me alone and stop pestering me about it.” She turned and ran from the room in tears and indignation.
I started after her.
Selma stopped me. “Leave her be. She’ll be OK.”
I shook off her hand and headed for the door. I couldn’t stand the thought I’d hurt my sweet aunt. “Aunt Selma, she needs me.”
“She needs to be left alone. And you and I need to figure out why Thelma’s lying to the two people she loves the most.”
11
Secrets take time to come to light.
Try as I might, I couldn’t coax the truth out of Thelma and the rest of the day dragged on in a silent standoff between Thelma, Selma, and me. The minute we got home that night, Thelma excused herself and went to bed.
Selma and I sat talking for hours, going over the list of places Thelma called on a regular basis, and trying to figure out how she might have accidentally called an alleged crime boss. When we finally gave up and went to bed, we still didn’t have any idea how to help Aunt Thelma.
Blake showed up the following afternoon.
Aunt Selma and I were no closer to figuring out the answer than we had been the day before.
“Ladies, I have a copy of the tape from the phone tap. I’m hoping it might jar someone’s memory. Thelma, Laney tells me you don’t believe you know this man, so I’m hoping if you hear his voice, it will spark something.”
Thelma sat in mutinous silence, staring at her hands.
Blake’s questioning gaze met mine and I shook my head. I didn’t know how to explain my aunt’s strange behavior.
“Why don’t I just play the first call and see what happens.” He grabbed his phone and hit play.
“How did you find me?” Aunt Thelma’s voice filled the room. She sounded shocked.
“I’ve been searching for you for years,” a distinctly Cajun voice answered.
“I’m glad you did. I’ve been wondering about you, too. How’ve you been? Are you happy?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the man responded. “I am. And I’m fine. I’ve been wondering about you, as well.”
All eyes turned to Thelma, who was now on her feet. “I told you I don’t know who that is and I meant it. Now everyone just leave me alone.” She stormed from the room once more, leaving us in stunned silence.
Blake hit the pause button. “This isn’t good. I was hoping−”
“She knows who it is,” Selma confirmed with a shake of her head. “We just have to figure out why she doesn’t want to tell us.”
For the first time, I considered the possibility of Aunt Thelma being guilty of what she was accused of doing, even if it was without her being aware of it. No matter how many different angles I considered, I couldn’t convince myself that she would ever do anything so wrong. But something about Selma’s answer troubled me.
“I need to go. I have an appointment in court in an hour’s time, and it’s obvious she’ll not talk in front of me. Ladies, you need to get to the bottom of this, and soon. We have a court date looming, and I’m at a loss as to how to proceed with this case.”
With Blake gone, I confronted Selma. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She didn’t try to deny it. “I can’t talk about it until I speak with Thelma in private.”
“Aunt Selma,” I protested, “this isn’t one of your crime games. Do you understand how serious this is? You and Thelma might go to prison−”
“I understand everything, Laney, but that doesn’t change facts. Until I talk to my sister, you’re just gonna have to wonder.”
****
How could I help someone when I didn’t know what was wrong? That night, alone with my fears, I couldn’t sleep. I dressed and tiptoed downstairs, the house around me silent. I wondered what secrets Thelma kept locked away.
On an impulse I couldn’t even begin to explain, I grabbed the car keys and headed out the door. I told myself I didn’t know where I was heading, even as I turned right on the county road and headed for the dead end.
I sat in front of Jake’s house for a long
time, unable to understand why I’d gone there, of all places, especially when I couldn’t even seem to get out of the vehicle. In the end, it didn’t matter. The front porch light switched on right before Jake stepped out onto the porch and came to me. He opened my door and waited.
“You’re shivering. Come inside.” I got out of the SUV and trailed behind him into the house, grateful I wouldn’t have to explain my own strange behavior f. By now, he’d probably figured it out anyway. It ran in the family.
“Sit down, Laney.”
I did, because I needed to talk to someone. Needed to lean on someone. Him.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened with Thelma?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. This man had once thought me to be homeless. He’d discovered I was pregnant, and had been ditched by my husband. I’d had a meltdown at my mailbox in front of him. He was probably wondering if I’d come to finish Selma’s job.
I glanced around his living room. Much like our house, the room contained pieces from another time period. I realized there was no way he could have brought any of this with him from Boston. This stuff had to be part of the original furnishings. I forgot about my troubles. “You didn’t bring any of your furnishings with you?”
His smile held a touch of sadness. “No. I couldn’t stand to be reminded of a lie.”
A statement like that could only come from someone who had experienced a great personal betrayal. “Your wife?” I asked tentatively.
He nodded very slowly. Something that could only be described as regret shadowed his eyes. My curiosity kicked into overdrive. I’d wondered about his marriage. By all outward appearances, it had appeared to be a fairy tale romance.
He got to his feet. “Want something to drink?”
He needed time.
“Sure.” I followed him to the kitchen and helped as he made hot chocolate. Once we’d added the right amount of marshmallows, we returned to the living room, sitting very close to each other, but not touching.
“I think I loved Melissa from the moment I met her,” he said at last.
Why did this revelation have to hurt so much to hear?
Of course, he would have loved his wife. I’d loved Tom at one point.
I didn’t say a word, but Jake didn’t seem to notice. He’d gone back into the past. I watched his handsome face as he spoke. It was easy to read his pain.
“I had no idea we’d grown apart until after she was gone.” Jake glanced my way.
I couldn’t hide my surprise.
His expression turned sad. “Turns out, she was in love with someone else—had been for years.”
“Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry.” I set the chocolate down on an end table, reached for his hand, and squeezed it tightly.
“Me, too. I wish I’d known. Maybe things would have been different.”
“How did you learn about...?”
“Her boyfriend? I was cleaning out some of her things when I found dozens of letters he’d written to her. They were very...intimate. She was the love of his life, according to those letters.”
Jake’s story and mine could have been written by the same author. The similarities were shocking. I hadn’t known, either.
“The worst part is I knew him. I think that’s what hurts the most. He was a good friend. When I confronted him about it, he told me the truth, things I didn’t want to hear. Things that hurt to hear.”
“Jake, I’m so sorry.”
His expression changed as he gazed at me. The hurt was still there, but a new awareness softened the corners of his mouth. Our hands were still linked. He tugged me closer, and I didn’t even hesitate to go into his arms. Unlike that first time, I wasn’t trying to run away. I was content to be close to him. He reached up to tuck one of my curls behind my ear, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
At last I understood what I’d been so afraid of for so long. I saw it right there in front of me in his sweet and completely authentic tenderness. It made me see beyond the wounded person he was at this moment to the man he’d once been. When his lips brushed gently across mine, his kiss was soft. Slow. Gentle. So unlike the perfunctory pecks from Tom and the rushed moments of intimacy we’d had. Jake’s kiss held promises and new beginnings.
He released me.
I looked into his eyes again and knew this wouldn’t be the last time he kissed me.
“Tell me what’s troubling you tonight, Laney.” His voice had a roughened quality in it.
I debated, and then finally concluded I would trust Jake with everything, all our dirty little secrets. “I think my aunts are going to jail.”
He didn’t seem surprised by this revelation. After all, my aunts had broken into his house before. Maybe he thought they were career criminals. Jake touched my cheek gently. “I doubt that. Is this about Butchy Peterson’s lies?”
“You know about that?” Somehow, I wasn’t really surprised by his answer. Down was a small town, after all. Of course, my aunts’ impending trial would be big news here.
“Yes. Thelma and I talked about it quite a lot.”
“Aunt Thelma talked to you about this?” It hurt that she’d trusted someone outside of her own flesh and blood to share her secrets with.
“Yes.” He knew something.
“What else has she told you? Did she talk to you about Ramie Deautreve?”
Jake shook his head. Whatever secrets he and Thelma had shared, Jake wasn’t betraying her trust. “Laney, I can’t tell you. You’ll have to ask Thelma if you want answers.”
Great. More secrets.
“I’ve tried. She refuses to talk to me.”
“Then maybe she’s not the one you need to be talking to.”
“Selma’s not talking, either.”
“Laney, I’m not talking about Selma.”
I studied him closely and tried to understand what he was saying. “You mean Ramie Deautreve?”
Suddenly, at two in the morning, it all made sense. If Aunt Thelma wouldn’t tell me her secrets, then I’d go directly to the source. I’d drive to Baton Rouge this very night—correction—this morning, and I’d talk to Ramie Deautreve. Somehow, I’d force him to tell me his connection to my aunt.
“You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself.” I got to my feet. “I’m going to Baton Rouge.”
I’d barely taken a step when Jake caught my hand. “No. No, Laney, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I meant you should have your aunts’ attorney speak to Deautreve.”
I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you crazy? He’s under federal investigation. He’d never talk to Blake. But maybe I can convince him on a personal level to help my aunt.”
Jake was still holding my hand. “Laney, you’ll be putting your life in danger.”
“Let me go, Jake. I have to do this. For Thelma.”
After a moment, he drew in a breath and released my hand. “All right, but I’m going with you. Give me your keys. I’ll drive.”
****
I left my aunts a brief voice message letting them know I had an errand to run and wouldn’t be attending church with them that morning. I was fully aware that when I returned, I would have to suffer through a barrage of reasons why I shouldn’t be missing church.
I dozed through most of the trip and awoke sometime after daylight when Jake stopped for gas.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not a very good traveling companion. Are you all right? You’re not sleepy, are you? I can spell you if you’d like.”
He smiled and touched my face. His fingers smelled faintly of unleaded. I knew I was in trouble when that didn’t seem like a bad thing.
“I’m fine,” he said softly. “Anyway what good are friends if they can’t drive you to meet an alleged crime boss from time to time?”
Jake and I hit the outskirts of Baton Rouge around midmorning, and I started to have my first real doubts about what I’d hoped to accomplish on this mission.
“Um
, Jake?”
“Yes?” he answered vacantly. His attention was focused on the road. When I didn’t answer after a few seconds, he glanced my way. “What’s wrong?”
“Any idea how we’re supposed to get close enough to Ramie Deautreve to ask him about my Aunt Thelma?”
He thought about this for a second. “I don’t know. We could try looking him up in a phone number search.”
I did a double take, thinking he was joking, until he pulled off the road and stopped the car.
Jake picked up his cell phone and retrieved the number. “It’s ringing.” He handed me the phone.
“Oh, no, what do I say?”
Before he could come up with a suggestion, a woman with a thick southern drawl answered the call. “Deautreve residence.”
“Yes, may I speak to Ramie Deautreve, please?” I looked to Jake and shrugged. It was worth a shot.
“Mr. Deautreve is with his family. He is unable to take your call.” The woman didn’t give me time to reply before disconnecting the call.
“She hung up on me. I guess that’s it.” I felt like such an idiot.
What was I thinking, driving all this way with no plan at all on a slim chance to speak to Ramie Deautreve, assuming he would talk to me, and dragging Jake along for the ride?
“No, it isn’t. It just so happens, I also got his address.”
Before I could stop him, Jake punched some directions into the car’s navigation system, and we were on our way. He exited the interstate and turned into a very exclusive neighborhood lined with massive oak trees covered in moss.
“It must be this one.” He pointed to the house at the very end of the cul-de-sac. It looked as if Fort Knox might be behind those gated walls. Jake pulled up to the gate.
“I think you’re right, but we’ll never get in there.”
Jake hopped out of the SUV, punched the intercom button, and waited.
I got out and stood next to him.
A man’s voice answered. “What do you want?”
It occurred to me then that there were cameras mounted everywhere. “My name is Laney Winters, and I need to talk to Mr. Deautreve right now. It’s urgent.”