by Emery, Lynn
“Yes.”
“I have a call for you from the United States, is that Mr. Paul Honorè yes?” The voice of the operator spoke in clipped English.
“Yes, it is.” Paul’s heart raced thinking of his father. “Hello? Hello.” Static hummed for a few seconds.
“Paul, it’s Sam. Don’t panic, your father is okay. That’s not why I called.” Proving once again how well he knew Paul and how sensitive he could be, Sam spoke quickly. His voice boomed louder than necessary.
“You’re coming through clearly, so stop shouting. Now what’s up?
“Man, it has hit the fan big time back here. Are you sitting down? Claude Trosclair’s been murdered. Hello! Hello!” Sam began to shout again after long seconds of silence.
“I’m still here. Damn! Damn!,” Paul blurted out.
“That’s not the worse part, the Sheriff and state police investigators have been asking a lot of questions about you. They even lifted some of your fingerprints from the trailer you rented in Beau Chene.”
“You mean I’m a suspect?”
“That’s what it looks like, man. They say you’re wanted only for questioning, but my guess is you’re high on the list, maybe even at the top. I think you might do some traveling. Visit Saudi Arabia, Bahrain. Say, I hear Turkey is pretty calm and safe for Americans, especially us brothers.”
“Sam, if you’re suggesting that I run, the answer is no. Besides making me look guilty as hell, it wouldn’t work anyway. Interpol would track me with no problem.”
“Staying on the move to further your business interests is what you’d be doing. How could you know they were trying to get in touch with you? Listen, the embassy could be sending someone to bring you a message as we speak. Book the next thing moving out of there, my brother. Maybe they’ll find out who did it before you get dragged back here.”
“Sam—”
“Do it, man. I’ve got LaMar Zeno looking in to it for me. Give us the time we need to clear you.” Sam’s voice, strained with the effort to convince his friend, sounded hoarse with emotion.
“LaMar Zeno.” Paul could picture the flamboyant Black private detective dogging leads behind the state police investigators. “Okay,” Paul said, “But only for another week, two at the most.”
“Great. Two weeks tops, you got it.” Sam blew out a loud sight of relief. “Keep in touch, call me at home in say three days.”
*****
“What made you change your mind?” Trent, an engineer with another company, sat next to Paul on the flight to Jordan. He had invited Paul to accompany him on this trip twice and met with refusal. “I thought you didn’t have time for side trips.““There are a couple of plants and factories of interest to me. Besides, I could make some contacts.” Paul stared out the window deep in thought.
“Well, I’m glad for the company.” Trent said.
Paul smiled and nodded at all the right places as Trent rattled off a list of sites they could visit in Jordan. But he could not shake the feeling of being hunted, the urge to look over his shoulder every five minutes. No matter what Sam had said, this was a mistake. He seriously doubted he could stand this for another two days, let alone two weeks.
Remembering the anxiety in his friend’s voice, he decided to give it a week. But no more. Whatever happened, it would be better to face it sooner rather than later.
Chapter 14
“What did he want?” Savannah met her father at the door.
“Settle down, now. He was askin’ me the same questions all over again. When did I last see Claude Trosclair. Where was I that night he got killed. Then he was askin’ ‘bout Paul.” Antoine paused, a puzzled frown on his face. “Didn’t you say he done the same with you a coupla days ago?”
“Yeah, and he never said why.”
“Fact, he asked more questions ‘bout him then he did anythin’ else. Now I think of it, seems like he was going through the motions of repeating them other questions to get to the real ones. Well, no tellin’ how this thing gone turn out.”
“Poppy, you don’t think Sheriff Triche thinks you did it?” Savannah finally worked up the courage to voice her greatest fear.
“Nah, cher. Least ways, he ain’t actin’ like it. I b’lieve he’d done had me in there a lot more if he did.” Antoine patted her head the way he had when she was a nervous little girl.
Watching him amble into the kitchen for a snack, Savannah prayed silently that he was right. The animosity between her father and Claude was well known. Antoine’s criticism and dislike of the man were even recorded in newspaper stories. He hadn’t been shy about speaking his mind during protests against the Big River plant. Much of it criticism of Claude Trosclair. Savannah sat in front of the television drumming her fingers on the easy chair’s arm.“Humm, umm. You cookin’ up somethin’. I can tell by lookin’ at you.” Antoine joined her in the den. He sat on the sofa balancing a bowl with Tante Marie’s peach cobbler and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on one knee.
“Not me.” Savannah avoided looking at him.
“You stay outta this, yeah.”
“I’m not planning to do anything.” Savannah put on her best blank face.
“Yeah, now I know you got somethin’ in mind ‘cause you didn’t even ask me what I was talkin’ ‘bout.”
“I’m thinking about the shop, Poppy. Really.” Savannah smiled sweetly, yet all the while thinking of the best time to visit Sheriff Triche. “T-Leon comes in at about three o’clock tomorrow, right?”
*****
“I certainly hope this isn’t going to take long, Kyle.” Quentin did not bother to look up at Singleton as he sat in the chair opposite his desk.
“Oh, I don’t think so. Took hardly any time to make yourself at home in Claude’s office.” Kyle waved a hand at the expensive redecorating that had been done in the two weeks since Claude’s death.
“Change, Kyle. It’s a part of life.” Quentin sat back in the new forest green leather executive chair.
“Yes, things have certainly changed. You’ve taken the reins and made some changes, big changes. Claude must be spinning in his grave.” Singleton brushed lint from his expensive pant leg.
“We saw things differently. My grandfather had limited vision, Kyle. He couldn’t see the possibilities of taking this company beyond the usual boundaries.” Quentin regarded Kyle with a steady gaze, as if measuring him by the same yardstick and finding him to be the same.
“And you do I suppose.” Kyle did not appear the least bit offended by Quentin’s condescending tone.
“I do,” Quentin said curtly.
“Those plans with Megatron International are a big risk, Claude and I had decided it wasn’t worth it.”
“Megatron is on the cutting edge of a whole new way to process a host of waste products for dozens of uses in industry. The potential for us, if we get in on the ground floor, is enormous. It could well take this company into making billions,” Quentin spoke forcefully.
“What about the fines from Big River? The hearing could well result in taking us to the brink of bankruptcy.” Kyle’s eyebrows went up.
“Clayton and Martin don’t think it will come to that. Besides, Big River is a legally separate division. Batton Holding Corporation could survive relatively intact.” Quentin, still as relaxed and confident, shrugged dismissing the fines.
“Maybe, but back to Megatron. New technology can be costly. Look at how the case against Big River turned out. And the kiln process has more of a track record than some of what Megatron plans to do. I think it’s a bad move at this time.” Singleton studied his neatly manicured fingertips.
“I realize that you’re accustomed to the way grandfather did things. As I said, Batton Chemical is moving in a new direction. Frankly, I sense that you don’t exactly approve of what I’m trying to do here.” Quentin stared at him tight lipped for several seconds. “I’ve had the accountants look over your benefit and pension package, it’s very generous. You could retire at a relatively young age and
live quite well.” Quentin opened a side drawer. He held up a brown file folder.
“I’m not interested in retiring. Besides, I still have so much to contribute to this company.” Singleton smiled at him.
“The deal with Megatron will go through. I need a president who is solidly behind me, Kyle. You’ve been an asset to this company for close to twenty years, but it’s time for you to move on. I want our parting to be congenial. Take the offer.” Quentin pushed the folder across the desk to him.
“I don’t think so, Quentin. I could benefit more by remaining.”
“Not if you end up being fired. This way you could leave with dignity, and much more money. Be smart and take it.” Quentin’s mouth twisted into an anything but friendly smile.
“Oh I won’t be fired. You need me.” Singleton pushed the folder back still smiling at him.
“Hardly.” Quentin sneered at him.
“Yes, you do. After I explain a few things, you’ll agree. Remember the last meeting Claude had with Martin and the rest of us after the verdict? He wanted the accountants to do a comprehensive audit of everything, not just Big River Plant and it’s division. Well, I noticed how nervous that made you.” Singleton nodded with satisfaction at the effect his words had on him. “Oh, yes. You see I didn’t get this far without keeping my eyes open. It’s one of the things Claude especially valued about me. Anyway, I decided to do a little checking on my own. You didn’t know that I was considered an accounting whiz in my younger days, did you? Another talent Claude recognized when he decided to hire me. These new financial software applications are amazing. Why twenty years ago it would have taken me weeks, months even, to discover your— how can I put this delicately, creative rearranging of company finances.”
“You can’t prove a damn thing!” Quentin spluttered.
“Oh but I can. You left a trail easy enough for any competent bookkeeper to pick up. And our accountants are, I’m sure you’ll agree, more than competent.” Singleton coolly observed the impotent fury on Quentin’s face.
“I put most of it back. The board will want to avoid a scandal.” Quentin chewed his lower lip.
“True. But the board will also take the opportunity to give you an offer similar to the one you just tried to give me. Say goodbye to controlling an empire, my boy. But…” Singleton held up a forefinger dramatically, “I can save you from all that.”
“How?” Quentin grew very still, his voice barely above a whisper.
“By keeping my mouth shut, of course. Naturally I’ll expect a few added perks. My stock options are quite inadequate for one thing. And I’ll making the decisions from now on. No one has to know this, it can be just between us.” Singleton’s soft chin quivered as he smiled broadly at Quentin.
“That’s it then, I have no choice.” Quentin spoke in a dull tone, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“None whatsoever. But think of it as a good thing. After all, I helped Claude make Batton Chemical an internationally profitable company. You really have everything to gain with me still in the picture.”
“And you’ve told no one this?”
“You have my word. It’ll be our little secret. Now I’ve made a few notes about my new benefits package. Since Claude left his affairs in such good order, the probate will go smoothly. With your stocks, your grandmother’s, and mine, the board will have little choice but to agree to let me step in as CEO. Well, that about does it I think. Good evening, my boy.” Singleton strolled out whistling.
Quentin slammed a clenched fist against the arm of his chair.
*****
“You sure ‘bout this doc?” Sheriff Triche waved the autopsy report in the air between them.
“With reasonable certainty. He was dead when he went in the water. The cause of death was a powerful blow to the abdomen, organ hemorrhaging did him in. Liver, spleen, and pancreas crushed. Died within an hour or so. He had other relatively minor bruises that could’ve come from falling or being hit, can’t say for certain.”
“Bruises such as?”
“He had scratches on his face and neck. Several yellow bruises on the upper chest.” Doc Vidrine shifted his plump body in the uncomfortably small chair.
“But what about the stab wounds?”
“Those were superficial, maybe got ‘em during the fight. He had a few shallow cuts on his hands like he mighta grabbed the weapon.”
“Lord. This some kinda maniac maybe?” Sheriff Triche raked stubby fingers through his thinning grey hair.
“Or somebody that plain didn’t like him. This is just speculation understand, but I’d guess he was dyin’ while the killer figured out what to do with the body or was carryin’ him to where he was dumped. Well, you know where to find me if you need me.” Doc Vidrine huffed to his feet.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Is it true you goin’ to question Quentin Trosclair again?”
“Yep.”
“You sure you wanna get them Trosclairs mad at you? They got a lotta pull, even if old Claude dead. They gonna figure to get in good with Quentin since he’ll likely take over Batton Chemical.
“Now Doc, you done knowed me long enough to know when I got me a serious matter like this, that don’t mean diddly boo to me. Sure I get some of our leadin’ citizens and their relatives out of a few embarrasin’ situations over the years. But not with murder involved, no sir. And I don’t need to tell you the state police watchin’ my every move on this one.”
“Hey, Doc. Sheriff, Miss Rousselle is here.” Deputy Lonnie Dupuis stuck his head in the door.
“That oughta be one interestin’ interrogation.” Doc Vidrine winked at the Sheriff and deputy before leaving.
LaShaun wore a long brick red dress belted at the waist with a colorful scarf that hung to one side. The flowing skirt of her dress moved in whirls a she walked with hips swaying.
“Have a seat, Miss Rousselle. How’s Monmon Odette feelin’ these days.” Sheriff Triche sat on the corner of his cluttered desk.
“Pretty good, thank you.” LaShaun cocked her head to one side, her expression was one of mild curiosity.
“Glad to hear it. I’m sure you know all about this terrible thing with Claude Trosclair bein’ found dead.”
“Shocking. What is this world coming to? When even a prominent man like him is attacked for pocket change.”
“You heard it was robbery, ma’am?” Sheriff Vidrine’s eyes went to the deputy standing behind her.
“Why what else could it have been? I mean, that’s all you hear on the news these days.” LaShaun looked from the Sheriff to the deputy and back again.
“He was killed by somebody, but not for money. At least, not what was in his pockets.”
“Really?”
“How well did you know Claude, ma’am?” Sheriff Vidrine moved on without further explanation.
“Just to know who he was on sight, that’s all.”
“And his grandson?”
“Same thing.”
“You haven’t spent time with either gentleman? Mr. Claude or Mr. Quentin?”
“Of course not. What are you trying to say?”
“Seems there’s been some talk that you been keepin’ company with one of them.”
“You got me here to ask about some trashy gossip? It’s a lie.” LaShaun met his gaze boldly.
“So you sayin’ it ain’t true.”
“That’s what I just said. I hardly know Quentin Trosclair.”
“I only said with one of them, I didn’t say which one.” Sheriff Vidrine stared at her hard.
“I meant, uh, it wasn’t either one of them. Look, I’m not answering no more questions without knowing what you’re trying to pin on me!” LaShaun snarled.
“Why you gettin’ so upset? Unless you’ve been goin’ with the boy. Fact is, we got word that you been visitin’ his apartment in New Orleans quite regular for almost a year or more.”
“How did you—”
“Is that so?”
“What if it is? It
’s got nothing to do with his grandpapa getting killed by some thug.”
“Let’s start all over, all right? You been sleepin’ with Quentin Trosclair. He been givin’ you money, too.” Sheriff Triche had picked up a note pad and was consulting it.
“Since you know so much, why are you bothering to ask me?” LaShaun glared at him.
“When did Claude find out about you two?” Sheriff Triche spoke sharply, his eyes boring into her.
“What— he didn’t know. I mean, uh—”
“I b’lieve he did. You see he had somebody checkin’ his grandson ever so often, a private security firm. Seems he didn’t trust the boy. ‘Bout three months ago they did their regular check, found out he was meetin’ up with you in that fancy apartment. They was a little reluctant to tell us, but Lonnie here reminded ‘em ‘bout the penalty for obstructin’ justice.” Sheriff Triche let a long silence stretch.
“That doesn’t mean a thing.” LaShaun wound and unwound the ends of the scarf that rested in her lap.
“Now I don’t think he would be too concerned ‘bout him seein’ you, Quentin has had a long list of lady friends in his young life. But the money part is somethin’ else. Seems it was more than money. He got the company to give y’all top dollar for some land Monmon Odette owns. And then there’s a matter of some investments you made that were very profitable?” Sheriff Triche ran a finger down the page of the note pad.