by Robin Caroll
“I can make you some breakfast.”
“Merci, but no. I don’t feel much up to eating right now.” CoCo took another sip of coffee, studying her grandmother over the rim. “How’re you feeling this morning?”
“I’m right as rain, ma chère. I talked to the spirits last night, and I know my Marcel’s at peace.”
The spirits? CoCo chewed her bottom lip. Would it never end? She’d been so sure she’d gotten through to her grandmother. What more could she say? She sure didn’t want to beat her over the head with the Bible like Luc said.
“You’d better get a move on. You don’t want to be late.”
“Right.” She took a final sip of coffee before setting the cup in the sink. China rattled against porcelain.
Her grandmother smiled, softening her pensive expression. “Ma chère, I may be old, but I can see the look of love on both of your faces.”
“Don’t be silly. He broke off our engagement. We’re just working together to figure this out, that’s all.” Were her emotions that obvious to everyone?
“I guess it’s not much of my business, yes?”
CoCo stared at her grandmother for only a split second before pulling her into a hug. “I love you.”
“I only want you to be happy, cher,” her grandmother whispered and returned the hug.
“I am.” CoCo straightened. If only she could believe her own argument.
Grandmere ducked her head. “Now, get.”
The heat pressed down, nearly suffocating CoCo as she walked to the Jeep. She stumbled as she picked her way amid rocks and uneven ground. Stupid heels. How ever did working women wear them every day, all day? She slipped in the driver’s seat and hopped, the leather so hot against the back of her bare knees. Why didn’t men ever have to undergo such torture?
Trees passed by in a blur as she drove, even though she kept the speed five miles below the limit. No one rushed to bury the dead. Not in Cajun country anyway. In Vermilion parish, the folks liked to draw out the mourning, the burying and the grieving. It was just the Southern way. Unlike the Yankees, who did quick memorial services and went on about their normal lives.
Her heart pounded as she pulled up to the cemetery. Justin and Luc had opted to have the service at graveside, knowing so many in the area would attend and the church building wouldn’t hold everyone. She killed the engine and stared at the people picking their way across the ground toward the big tent. Luc would be here already. The family had a private viewing earlier this morning and planned to come straight to the graveside immediately afterward. CoCo shook as she remembered the last funeral she’d attended. She’d gone to that one for Luc, too. The day they’d buried his father. The day he’d turned to her with eyes as cold as the Antarctic. The day he’d broken their engagement. And her heart.
CoCo shook off the memory. She and Luc had come full circle.
Luc stood head and shoulders above most of the other men. Her heart leapt to her throat. He looked so strong as he accepted handshake after handshake. Like a pillar.
She made her way toward him. He caught sight of her when she was halfway there. He smiled—a smile reserved only for her. A secret smile of dreams. Her heart thudded.
He bent to whisper in her ear. “I’m glad you’re here.”
That’s all she needed to hear, all she needed to know for this short moment. She faced his uncle sitting in the last chair in the front row. His eyes were glazed over, glued to the coffin on the stand over the open grave. She took the few steps to stand before him. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Justin.”
He jerked his gaze to her, but the glazed appearance stayed. “What’re you doing here?” He spoke loud and sharp.
His words were as effective as a slap across the face. She stumbled a step backward and hit a wall. She spun around and met Luc’s stern expression. He was the wall she’d hit.
“Uncle Justin, CoCo’s here because I asked her to come.” He laid an arm around her shoulders. “For me.”
His uncle stared at Luc’s face for a long minute, then he gave a curt nod. “So that’s how it is, huh?”
Luc let a slow breath hiss between his teeth. Justin’s gaze dropped to CoCo’s face. His scrutiny caused heat that had nothing to do with the hot sun to sizzle in her spine. She lifted her chin and met his stare. He narrowed his eyes and then let out a little chuckle. “I like your spunk, girl.” He stood and nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
That was about as sincere as she was going to get. She smiled and offered her hand. “I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. Justin. I know how it feels to lose people you love.” Her words softened.
So did his eyes. “I remember, young lady.” His voice cracked. He gave another nod before moving to a group of older people standing in a semicircle off to the side of the chairs.
CoCo let out the breath she’d been holding.
“See, he does like you.”
She gave a snort similar to the one Tara had earlier. “Yeah, that’s why he demanded to know why I’m here, because he likes me so much.”
“You’re a suspect, and he’s grieving. He backed off.”
“Only because you practically threatened him with the tone of your words.” She caught sight of Toby standing by himself, away from the rest of the crowd. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” she told Luc before heading toward the teen.
“Hi, Toby.”
The boy jerked his head to stare at her. The surprise on his face faded back to normal when he recognized her. “Hiya, Ms. CoCo.”
“I didn’t know you knew Mr. Trahan.”
“My dad made me come.”
“Oh.” She glanced around, but didn’t see anybody watching Toby. This was the first she’d heard of the boy’s father. Toby lived with his grandmother, his deceased mother’s mom. Where had the father come from? “I planned to call you. We need some more repairs done around the house.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Cool. Maybe I can find another doubloon.”
Her heart pounded loud, drowning out the conversations around her. “About that doubloon—do you still have it?”
“Nah, my dad’s boss said he collected old doubloons and wanted it for his collection. He paid me twenty bucks for it.”
Twenty bucks for a coin worth five thousand. She chewed her bottom lip. “Did you tell him where you’d gotten it?”
“Yeah. He said he’d buy any more I found, too.” The teen’s eyes sparkled.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Someone else knew the coins were in her house. “Toby, who is your dad’s b—”
Luc took a gentle hold of her elbow. “Let’s take our seats. Looks like Preacher’s ready to get started.” He led her toward the chairs, then froze. “What’s he doing here?”
She followed his line of vision, which stopped at Dwayne Williams’s feet. “I’ll go see,” she whispered as she made her way toward her attorney.
Dwayne stood behind the crowd, his tight afro shining in the sun. She nudged up beside him. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pay my respects.”
“Dwayne, you can’t be serious.” She darted her gaze around the area where people were milling toward the tent. “I know better.”
“Look, I’m a suspect in his murder just like you are. Nine times out of ten, the murderer shows up at a funeral. I’m just keeping my eyes and ears open.” He gave a slight jerk of his head. “Just like the cops there. Keeping an eye on everyone.”
Sure enough, Sheriff Theriot and two deputies hovered near the entrance to the cemetery. Until Beau’s murder was solved, she remained under the microscope. Right alongside Luc and Dwayne.
Luc jerked the knot loose on his tie. He tossed the offensive article of clothing across the back of the bedroom chair. Its silky texture couldn’t catch on the tapestry so it slipped to the floor. He left it there, refusing to pick it up. His day couldn’t have been much worse. What was it about burying the dead that left the living feeling guilty for st
ill breathing?
“Luc, your grandfather’s attorney is here.” His mother’s voice floated up the stairs and down the hall to his open door.
“Be there in a sec.” He wished CoCo could have come to sit beside him. Funny how he, a grown man, wanted someone to hold his hand. He sure as shootin’ couldn’t look to Bubba for support. Not today. His childhood friend was present in an official capacity at the reading of Beau Trahan’s last will and testament.
Luc’s stomach roiled. He’d just seen his grandfather’s body lowered into the ground, and now he’d have to face some lawyer to hear Grandfather’s last wishes. It just seemed… wrong.
What else could he do? He unbuttoned the top button of his white Oxford with a sigh and clunked down the stairs. Several voices reached him before he entered the study. His grandfather’s study. He didn’t miss the irony.
“There you are, cher,” his mother said as she patted the seat next to her on the couch. “Come sit so we can get started. Mr. Milton is a busy man, I’m sure.”
Luc sat beside his mother and stared at the man sitting behind the desk. His grandfather’s desk. The man had thinning gray hair, glasses thicker than Bubba’s and a paunchy belly, yet his eyes shone as he looked at Luc’s mother. She patted her hair in response. Luc fidgeted, glancing over his shoulder to the other people in the room.
Felicia’s wheelchair sat next to the couch, on the other side of his mother. He worried about her. She’d cried at the funeral, but Frank had consoled her. Too bad Frank couldn’t be here now.
Uncle Justin sat in Grandfather’s recliner, his face ruddy, his expression serious. He’d sobbed at the funeral, too, but in a manly sort of way. Luc couldn’t imagine losing a sibling— he’d be devastated if something happened to Felicia. The thought of her recurring medical bills flashed across his mind. Maybe Grandfather had a stipulation in his will for her continued medical care. He prayed it was so.
Sammy Moran? What was he doing here? The acting casino manager sat stiff-backed in one of the chairs facing the desk. He’d shed no tears at the funeral. Matter-of-fact, he hadn’t shown one iota of emotion period. Luc couldn’t believe his grandfather would have left him something.
A couple of old dogs, as Grandfather had called them, reclined in chairs brought in from the living room. Luc couldn’t put names to faces, but he recognized most of them from Grandfather’s politician days.
Finally, Bubba Theriot stood in the back of the room, his arms crossed casually over his chest, but his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. Luc’s gut clenched. Bubba probably assumed the murderer stood to gain something from Grandfather’s death. Luc swallowed hard. He hoped his grandfather hadn’t left him much of anything.
CoCo plopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The fan rotated clockwise, humming at the high speed. Something felt off inside her spirit, as if peace hid from her. What was it? What was she missing? She closed her eyes and replayed everything since Beau’s murder like a movie rewinding frame by frame.
Being served the eviction notice had to be triggered by Beau finding out about the coins hidden here in the house. Hiring Dwayne as her attorney. Finding the body—she fast forwarded over that segment. The sheriff’s visit, followed by Luc’s. A small shiver crossed her spine. She shoved away the distraction of Luc’s handsome face and returned to her thoughts. Meeting with Dwayne and giving her statement to the police. Luc’s apology. She smiled, but pinched her eyes shut tighter. Discovering the letters and then the picture in the attic.
Her heart thumped, and she bolted up on the bed. She widened her eyes while her mind reeled.
Dwayne had said he’d been investigating Beau. Of course, she knew now that was in regard to his sister. If he’d been digging into the past, maybe, just maybe, he knew something about Justin’s involvement with the KKK. She could get a lead on who had written the letter found in Beau’s things.
Moving to the edge of the mattress, CoCo lifted the phone receiver on the bedside table. She punched in the number for Dwayne’s office, realizing he’d probably gone straight home after the funeral, but determined to try anyway. After three rings, she got his voice mail. Apparently Dwayne had a life. Imagine that. She left a message and hung up the phone. A couple more days and she could ask. It might be a long shot, but right now, anything was better than what they had to go on…nothing.
She looked up to find Tara hovering in the doorway. “Problems?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” CoCo sighed and moved to the vanity table. She lifted her makeup remover. “How’re you?”
“I’m fine and dandy.” Tara flopped on the bed. “How was the funeral?”
“Standard funeral.” She daubed the lotion on her eyes with a tissue.
“I see.”
She finished removing the mascara and eyeliner, then stared at her sister in the mirror. “Hey, you know Toby?”
“The kid who does stuff around here?”
“Yeah. That’s him. I know he lives with Ms. Mason. Do you know his last name?”
Tara twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Oh, what CoCo wouldn’t give to have straight hair like her sister’s.
“That’s his grandmother. I don’t know him by anything other than just Toby. Why?”
CoCo shrugged and then wiped her face with a moist cloth. “I saw him at the funeral today. He mentioned something about his father.”
“I didn’t even know he had a father on the scene. He’s always with his grandmother. Why so curious?”
Again, CoCo shrugged. Tara was entirely too astute for her own good. No sense raising her suspicions. “I asked him to come around to do some more light repairs. I just thought I’d call him and follow up.”
“Grandmere has the number on the icebox.”
She tossed the cloth in the trash, thankful to have the makeup gone. Her face couldn’t breathe under all that gunk.
“How was Luc?”
CoCo turned and faced her sister. “Good.” She licked her lips. “Considering.”
NINETEEN
Something was wrong, very wrong. She could tell. The restaurant’s soft glow added a mysterious ambiance, not that she didn’t already feel something uneasy settling over their table. CoCo sat across the table from Luc, dreading whatever it was he had to tell her.
Please, God, don’t let him try to persuade me to give us a second chance. I know I should just pray for Your will, but I love him. Always have, always will. And I’m not strong enough to withstand him breaking my heart a second time.
Her mind knew God had her best interests at heart, but she really wanted to be able to resist the temptation Luc brought to her door.
“You’re beautiful.” Luc’s eyes caressed her as softly as his spoken words.
Heat marched across her face and she could only imagine the blush, but she just blinked and stared back at him.
He chuckled. “You are. Even when you’re turning four shades of red.”
She laughed and lowered her gaze.
“I need to tell you something.”
CoCo’s heart skipped a beat. All traces of laughter fled from his voice. She swallowed hard.
“In the reading of the will today…” His words trailed off.
Her gut knotted. She’d only eaten a couple of pieces of bread and a salad, yet her stomach felt loaded with lead. “Yeah?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. Her heart joined the lead in her stomach.
“Grandfather left the deed to your property to Uncle Justin. And the lawyer assured me that it’s legit. The transfer of ownership was just never filed.”
She didn’t have much fight left in her. “I guess that’s the way the coons run.”
Now his gaze did touch hers. “The only issue is the delay of transferring of ownership filing. That’s what Dwayne will argue in court to try and sway the judge to let you keep your house.” He took a sip of tea. “CoCo, Uncle Justin’s going to evict you if the court decides in his favor. I asked him. Tried to talk him into just letting things
go on as is. He doesn’t need your house, but he wants it. Says he owes it to Grandfather to carry out what he started.”
Fury coursed through her veins faster than her airboat over the bayou. She spoke between clenched teeth. “I told you he didn’t like me.”
“Aww, CoCo, it’s not that. I don’t know. He’s got a bee in his bonnet to get your house.” He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. “He was adamant.”
Chewing her bottom lip, she recalled the look in his eyes at the funeral. She hadn’t detected hate after Luc had stood up for her. It was more like…fear. Yes, that was it. Something about her scared Justin Trahan. Or, could it be…
“Luc, did you tell Justin about the picture we found in my attic? Or the coins?”
“No. I didn’t think the funeral would be the right time or place.”
“Right. What if he knew that picture was up there? Wouldn’t he want it back, so that nobody would know about his involvement? Could he have been the one to find out about the coins? And knowing about the picture, pushed Beau into serving us with an eviction?”
“Why would he care? Unlike Grandfather, Uncle Justin has never given a flip about his reputation.” Luc gave a wry laugh. “Matter of fact, he enjoys having people talk about him.”
“Hmmm.” He had a point. Justin’s past wouldn’t come up and bite him, not like Beau’s. Why would it have bothered him? She sighed. It wouldn’t have. Unless…
“Luc, is it possible someone’s blackmailing Justin?”
“What?”
She held up a finger. “Just follow me, here. Beau gets the letter we found, threatening to expose him. What if the author of the letter went further? Sent another letter, one demanding money?” CoCo leaned over the table with its pristine white tablecloth, her words practically tumbling on top of themselves. “If that person threatened your grandfather, why not Justin, too?”
He ran his fingertip over the lip of the glass. “Uncle Justin wouldn’t care.”
“Unless they threatened to expose his past to hurt his brother. Wouldn’t that have fired up Justin? Someone using his past to hurt Beau?”