I mulled that over. Maybe a few people had set their sights on Ruby’s property. One was the person who signed the real estate contract I’d spied on Ruby’s table. The other, if someone different, was Mayor Turcott.
“What did Ruby say to him?” Although I couldn’t imagine she’d say yes, since most locals would never sell their property to an outsider, I wanted to hear how Hollis phrased it.
“She told him to get lost,’” Hollis said. “But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He threatened to take the property by something called em…emi—”
“You mean eminent domain?” Ambrose asked. “That’s when someone takes the land by force.”
“That’s it!” Hollis said. “That’s what he said he’d do if she didn’t sell it to him.”
“But isn’t that usually when a city needs property for a highway or a park?” I racked my brain for some examples, since I couldn’t imagine that anyone would want Ruby’s property for something like that.
Somewhere along the line, probably in a prelaw class at Vanderbilt, I’d studied eminent domain. One of the more famous cases involved a Florida town and a dog park. The city council pulled the eminent domain card to get the land for it from a developer. The developer sued but he lost, so he had to pony up some of the best parcels for the proposed park. Ironically, the city council never did raise enough money to build the park, so the land sat vacant for decades.
“Politicians skirt the rules all the time,” Ambrose said. “No matter what, the mayor shouldn’t have threatened your grandmother like that.”
We chatted a bit more about the mayor, and his unorthodox negotiation tactics, until I remembered something else. We’d completely ignored the menus on our table. While I knew what to order—since I visited Miss Odilia’s place at least twice a week—Hollis wouldn’t have a clue.
I passed him a menu, just as Ambrose excused himself to use the restroom.
“You might want to get the Southern Fried Chicken Deluxe platter,” I offered, as I watched Ambrose walk away.
Before Hollis could respond, something hard bumped into the back of my chair. Thwack! I turned to see a heavyset man with a steel briefcase in his right hand. Apparently, he’d slammed the briefcase into my chair, since it swayed back and forth in the air. The stranger didn’t seem to notice his faux pas until one of his dinner companions pointed it out.
“Sorry about that,” he bellowed back at me. “Pardonne-moi.” His voice boomed above the din in the restaurant. “Guess they need to put more space between these here tables.”
The man had a broad forehead and wide-set brown eyes that seemed oddly familiar. Where have I seen that face before?
“Yessiree,” he practically yelled, “we’re like sardines in a can over here. You just go right on back to your meal. Don’t mind me.”
The stranger wore a neon-blue camp shirt, much like Remy Gaudet’s orange one, and pressed khakis. His gaze swept our table until it landed on Hollis.
“Why, Hollis Oubre. Whatever are you doing here?” he bellowed.
“Hello, Mr. d’Aulnay.”
That’s it! My eyes sparked when I put two and two together. The man was Sabine’s father. They shared an unmistakable family resemblance—stocky build, flat nose, and dark, wide-set eyes. The elder d’Aulnay had also slicked some hair across his scalp to hide an obvious bald spot, which didn’t work.
Apparently, I was about to meet the one and only Christophe d’Aulnay.
Chapter 8
Once the man finished greeting Hollis, he turned his attention to me. He didn’t seem to mind being left behind by his companions, because they continued to walk through the restaurant, while he paused by our table.
He also plunked his briefcase on Ambrose’s chair, as if he meant to stay awhile. “And just who might you be?”
“I’m a friend of Hollis,” I said. “My name’s Melissa DuBois, but everyone around here calls me Missy.”
I stuck out my hand, and he grabbed it. Like his voice, his grip was a lot stronger than it needed to be.
“Nice to meet you, Missy.” He pumped my hand. “Always nice to meet a pretty gal, and a redhead, to boot.”
“Her fiancé’s in the bathroom,” Hollis quickly added. “He’s a big guy. Maybe you know him. Ambrose Jackson? He’s kinda famous around here.”
“Jackson, huh?” The elder d’Aulnay finally released my hand, which I shook once or twice to get the blood flowing again. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Doesn’t he make those girlie dresses or something?”
“It’s not like that.” Hollis’s cheeks slowly pinked. “Yeah, he makes wedding dresses. But they cost a mint. And he’s got big-time clients. Big-time. People fly him all over the country to work for them. Out of the country, even. Yeah, that’s it. Europe and stuff.” He limped to the end of his little speech, the wind clearly gone from his sails.
I slanted my eyes at him. While Ambrose had dressed clients from New York to California, he’d never once worked overseas, as far as I knew. With his famous followers, he didn’t have to. And Hollis didn’t need to lie on his behalf.
“Is that so?” Surprisingly, Christophe swallowed Hollis’s story hook, line, and sinker. “Maybe I’m in the wrong business. N’est-ce pas?”
“Who’s in the wrong business?” Ambrose had returned, although he was oblivious to the topic at hand.
“Me, apparently,” Christophe said. “I had no idea your clients—”
“Good, you’re back,” I quickly interrupted. Maybe if I changed the subject, Ambrose wouldn’t find out Hollis had lied. The boy had had enough drama for one day. “I’m guessing you two already know each other. Bo, this is Christophe d’Aulnay.”
“Of course.” Ambrose extended his hand, and the elder man pounced on it.
“Good to see you, son.” After several hearty shakes, Christophe finally released Bo’s hand. “Congratulations on your business, young man. I had no idea. But, here, let me get that briefcase out of your way. I think it’s time for me to head on out, since y’all haven’t eaten yet.”
“We haven’t even ordered yet.” I glanced around our empty table.
The waiter had disappeared once he dropped off the basket of rolls. Even the water glasses looked bone-dry.
“Guess our server got backed up.”
“Looks like it. Maybe I should’ve saved you some scraps from our table.” Christophe laughed heartily, and the noise cracked like thunder in the quiet space.
By now, people didn’t even pretend to be interested in their own conversations as they leaned their heads toward ours. I got the funny feeling everyone expected something to happen, although I had no idea what.
“You should probably flag down the waiter,” I told Ambrose, more to create a diversion than anything else. “If we don’t order soon, we’ll be here ’til midnight.”
“Got it.” Ambrose left our table again, but this time he went to find our missing server.
The minute he left, Christophe moved his briefcase to the floor so he could take Ambrose’s seat. “Guess I can stay a few more minutes, then.”
“But aren’t your friends going to miss you?” I asked.
“Nah. I took care of the bill, so they owe me. They’ll wait.” He studied my face for several seconds. “Now, your name sounds familiar. Are you part of the DuBois clan out of Lafayette?”
“No, sir.” Little did he know my family tree grew to the Texas border, and then the roots petered out. “I grew up in Texas, and then I went to school in Tennessee.”
“A Vanderbilt girl, huh?” He studied me a moment longer. “I’ve got it!” Even his finger snap was loud. “That’s the name of the hatmaker in town. La modiste. Are you any relation to her?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” A deep rumble worked its way through my stomach, but I did my best to ignore the hunger pains. “I own the hat studio. It’s call
ed Crowning Glory, and I started it up about two years ago. I work with brides and bridesmaids all up and down the Great River Road.”
“I knew it.” His eyes lit up. “You’re the little lady who’s helping my Sabine with her wedding veil.”
“Yes, sir. As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Now, don’t go giving her any crazy ideas,” he said. “My little girl tends to go a bit overboard.”
Well, that ship’s already sailed. But there was no need to tell him that. “All brides have a lot of fancy ideas when they first start out.” I tried to be as diplomatic as possible. “My job is to take their fantasies and turn them into something real.”
“That right? Well, let me give you a little tip.” He leaned closer, as if I couldn’t hear him well enough. “Only listen to about half of what she says. That girl thinks money grows on trees.”
I subtly leaned away, since I wasn’t used to someone yelling in my ear. “You don’t say. Well, we’ll do the best we can with the budget.”
“Yep, she thinks my bank account is a bottomless pit. Truth be told, it’s been a tough year so far.”
“Really?” I couldn’t imagine that was true, after everything Sabine had said.
“Well, there’s only so much you can do—”
At that moment, Ambrose reappeared at our table with our waiter—who looked a little sheepish, to be honest—in tow. Maybe now I could quiet the grumble in my stomach.
Both Hollis and I quickly gave him our orders, and then Ambrose settled into the only chair left at the table.
“We interrupted you,” I told Christophe. “You were about to say something about your business.”
He’d piqued my curiosity with his claim about a tough year since it didn’t jibe with Sabine’s bragging.
“What’s that? Oh yeah. Business.” He glanced at Ambrose. “I own a little riverboat out on the Atchafalaya. It’s called the Riverboat Queen. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“Of course,” Ambrose said. “Your boat’s pretty famous around here. All of my clients want to get married there.”
“So, you’ve seen her, huh? She’s a beauty, all right. My pride and joy. Used to be I could run her up and down the river all year long. But the water levels aren’t the same anymore.”
I cocked my head. According to Beatrice, plenty of people had made money off the swamps around here, precisely because the industry could run year-round. “Someone once told me swamp tours operate twelve months a year out here. Isn’t that true?”
“Not anymore. Not since the water levels went down. C’est la vie.”
By this time, Hollis had completely disappeared from our conversation, so I quickly glanced at him. He looked sullen, and he’d sunk so low into the dinner jacket, his chin grazed the lapels.
What’s bothering him?
“So you see, there’s a catch.” Christophe didn’t seem to notice Hollis was hiding in the collar of his coat. “You’re fine once you get to open water, but when the river dips too low, it’s hard to navigate around the driftwood and such. Near impossible by August. The key is to keep boats at several spots. Give yourself some options, depending on what the river’s doing that week.”
Hollis finally moved, and his mouth peeked out from the collar of the coat. “You don’t say.”
“Why, Hollis, you should know that better than anyone else,” Christophe replied. “You’ve lived on that riverbank your whole life. Surely you’ve noticed the water levels aren’t up to par.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t give people the right to start nosing around for other docks to steal.” He threw the captain a look I couldn’t quite decipher.
“I wouldn’t call it ‘nosing around’ when I visited your grandmother, son.” He emphasized the last word, as if he wanted to put Hollis in his place. “We had to talk business, that’s all.”
“Business? Is that what you called it?” Hollis said. “My grandma was pretty upset once you left.”
Christophe laughed again, only this time it was tame compared to his first one. “I was probably teasing her about something and she took it the wrong way. Of course, I would’ve given her a fair price. More than fair. It’s the way I do business around here. Ask anyone.”
Ambrose leaned in to Hollis, as if he wanted to protect him. “What exactly did your grandmother say, Hollis?”
“Just that she supposed Mr. d’Aulnay here would find a way to get his hands on our property one way or another. And he didn’t much care how he did it.”
That quickly sobered up our guest. “Now, Hollis, you’ve gotta stop spreading rumors like that. Everyone knows I do business fair and square. Like I said, I probably made a joke and your grandma took it the wrong way.”
Our guest slowly rose from the table. “Well, it’s getting late, and I should probably go find my buddies. By the way”—he leaned over to grab his briefcase off the floor—“I’d still like to talk to you about that property when all the dust settles, Hollis. It’s a lot of land for a kid to handle. You might want someone to take it off your hands.”
Hollis started to protest, but Ambrose held him back.
“It’s wwwaaayyy too early for that,” Ambrose said. “We’ve got a funeral to plan first.”
The riverboat captain grunted, but he didn’t seem chastised by the reply. Instead, he quickly turned to leave, dragging with him the gaze of every diner within earshot. By now, silence engulfed our little corner of the restaurant and even the clink of silverware had dimmed.
All the attention bothered me, so I leaned close to Hollis before I spoke.
“Well, that was nervy,” I whispered. “No wonder your grandmother thought he was intimidating. Heck, I thought he was intimidating, and I’ve only just met him.”
“That guy makes me so mad.” Unlike me, Hollis didn’t bother to lower his voice. “He thinks he can do anything he wants, just because he’s a d’Aulnay.”
“Try to forget about it,” I urged. “He’s not important right now. Let’s enjoy our meal and head on back to the house. We’ve all had a long day.”
Which was an understatement. Once I finished dinner, I fully intended to take a hot bath and go straight to bed. Maybe then I could put this day behind me. I only hoped the universe would finally agree with my plan and let me put this day to rest.
Chapter 9
By the time I woke up the next morning, bright sunshine washed over the windowsill in my bedroom. I’d planned to get up early, but I’d forgotten to set my alarm with all the hubbub of the night before.
Who knew I’d meet Christophe d’Aulnay at Miss Odilia’s restaurant? Everything I’d ever heard about the man was true: the outsized personality, the condescending tone, the way he sucked up all the oxygen in a room, just like his daughter did. The apple definitely didn’t fall far from the tree in that family.
I yawned before I threw back the covers and hopped onto the cold floorboards. There was no time for breakfast today. I barely had time to change into some work clothes and maybe grab a few minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, let alone toast a bagel, scramble an egg, or cook a bowl of oatmeal.
I didn’t even bother to throw on a robe as I walked down the hall, since Ambrose always left the house well before sun up—not that he’d care, anyway—and Hollis would probably sleep until noon, if yesterday was any indication. Sure enough, the thwap of my bare feet on the floor made the only sound as I headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Just fifteen minutes in front of the mirror and I felt like a brand-new person. Afterward, I quickly threw on a lightweight wool skirt and a silky emerald top, and then I headed for the front door. I remembered to grab an umbrella from our hat stand at the very last minute, since October could bring unexpected rain showers to this part of Louisiana, and I didn’t want to get caught unaware.
Once I hopped into my car, I drove onto Highway 18, one of t
he few cars on the road so late in the morning. I was about to enter the parking lot at the Factory when my cell buzzed. Uh-oh. Nothing like getting thrown into the fire before I even walked into the studio.
Only…it wasn’t Beatrice’s name that appeared on my cell phone. It was Lance’s. By the time I pulled off to the side of the road, the buzzing stopped, but I tapped the screen and the phone quickly connected me to the police station. Like always, Lance answered my call right away.
“Hey, Missy.” He sounded wide awake, since he normally arrived at the police station by six in the morning. “Are you at work yet?”
“I wish. I accidentally slept in. What’s up?” Since Lance and I grew up together, we could dispense with the niceties and get right to the heart of the matter.
“Got the ME’s preliminary report on Ruby last night. Thought you might be interested in it.”
“You’re kidding. That sure was fast.”
“It has to be,” Lance said. “Whenever you’ve got a drowning victim, they fast-track it. Otherwise, air will destroy the evidence on a corpse.”
“Ewww…that’s a pretty gruesome fact to wake up to. Remember, I just got up.” I shook my head to clear it. “So, what’d the ME find?”
“Look, I can’t talk about this over the phone. Any chance you can head on over here to the police station?”
“I don’t know.” I could only imagine how much work waited for me when I got to the studio. Since I’d spent most of the day before on the bayou with Hollis, countless e-mails no doubt clogged my in-box, and a stack of telephone messages probably spewed across my drafting table.
“The report is short, Missy. Short, and very surprising.”
“Surprising, huh? You’re killing me, Lance.” He always did know what to say to make me do something I didn’t want to do. Even when we were little kids, he knew what buttons to push until I agreed to help him with one of his schemes. The more things changed…
“It’s your call,” he said.
All Hats on Deck Page 7