Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 02 - Skeletons of the Atchafalaya (12 page)

Before going back downstairs, we decided someone
needed to be on watch just in case the bear should pay us
a return visit. Usually, black bears weren’t aggressive, but
given his circumstances, I couldn’t blame him. All he
wanted was a refuge from the storm.

We set up a rotating schedule.

“There could be more,” Uncle Henry suggested.

Janice frowned. “More? You mean bears? I didn’t think
there were any bears around here.”

Leroi shook his head. “Still a lot of black bears, and
some panthers. They all retreated to the swamps as cities
grew up. These storms push them to higher ground.”

Shivering, Janice looked up at me. I slipped my arm
around her shoulders. “Can’t blame them. I’m surprised he
came here. Usually, they just shimmy up a tree and curl up
in a fork high above the water.”

She cast a worried look at the windows. I chuckled.
“Don’t worry. They can’t get in.”

Uncle George volunteered to take the first watch.

“All the windows and doors are shuttered,” Patric said.
“He’ll have to break through, so you’ll be able to hear
him.”

“I’ll hear him,” Uncle George said. “I just had an idea. Why don’t some of you take down three or four doors on
each floor. Dig up some hammers and nails and use them
to nail over these broken windows up here. That’ll work
better than sheets. When we get a chance, we can get outside and nail the shutters down.”

We nodded to each other. It was a good idea.

I started on the third floor. Janice, Leroi, and Sally
pitched in. We removed the two doors beyond lolande’s
room. I paused outside her door, shaking my head at her
horrible fate.

Cursing the cottonmouth, I opened the door and peered
inside for another look at the deadly creature.

I blinked. My eyes grew wide. Janice looked around my
shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Incredulous, I stammered, “The-the cottonmouth. It’s
gone. It isn’t here.” Flipping on the light, I hurried across
the room.

Janice clutched my arm and gasped. “Tony! Where did
it go?”

“You sure it was dead?” Leroi stopped beside us.

My head spun in disbelief. “It’s head was popped off. It
bounced off the wall just below that picture.”

“You sure? I don’t see any blood,” Sally said, looking
around the room.

“There’s got to be,” I exclaimed, inspecting the wallpaper and the floor. But she was right. There was no trace of
blood on the wall, none on the floor. I looked around. “Janice can tell you. Giselle popped the snake’s head off and
threw the body down here.” I pointed to the floor at my
feet.

Janice caught her breath and pressed her hand to her
mouth.

Leroi blew softly through his lips. “Then where is it?
What happened to it?”

I stared at the spotless floor. “I don’t know. For the life
of me, I don’t know.”

Half a dozen theories surfaced after we told the family
about the missing cottonmouth, theories as bizarre as the
two parts growing back together or a second snake swallowing the dead one.

“The killer took the snake,” Patric proclaimed. “That’s
the only explanation.”

Uncle Henry spoke up. “They said all the blood had been
cleaned up. Why would the killer do that? Huh? What he
trying to hide?”

Patric had no answer. None of us did.

Uncle George crossed his chest and glanced heavenward.
He shook his head. His angular face resembled a sad horse.
“You know as well as me. I say it once. There be things
that happen that got no explanation. They be devil’s work.”

Bailey snorted. “Don’t start up with none of that voodoo
nonsense, George.”

George looked around at his cousin. “Then you tell me
where the snake, it be gone.” He jabbed a bony finger toward the larger man. “I tell you this, Bailey Thibodeaux.
There be things you and me don’t understand in this world.
Like it or not.”

Bailey did not respond. For a moment, the same thought
ran through all our minds.

Giselle broke the silence. “All I know is that I killed that
cottonmouth. I popped his head clean off.”

Nanna’s words from the day before rang in my ears. “Ils
sont dechire ce soir.” Could those words truly have been
a precognition of A.D.‘s death? Grandma Ola believed so.
If that were the case, then believing the cottonmouth was
phantasm voodoo was a small, though incredible, step.

Later I sat in the kitchen with Uncle Patric. “Ah,” he
sighed, sniffing the rich aroma of Mom’s coffee. “That I
need,” he said.

I poured us two cups, brimful. The others had remained
in the parlor. Placing my cup on the table, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “I want to talk to you about
all this, Uncle Patric. Okay?” I pulled out my notebook.

“The snake again?”

“No. The murders.”

A spark of irritation flashed in his black eyes, then vanished. He pursed his lips and wrinkled his button nose. “I
tell you now, me, I don’t believe in none of that voodoo
even though Nanna, they say she sees things. But, we all
family here, Tony. Even Bailey, though he don’t act like
it.”

It was impossible to push the missing cottonmouth out
of my mind, but I made the effort. “I know. But you and
I both know someone in the family is responsible for your
cousins and Ozzy. I’ve got no idea who it could be. As far
as I know, the killer might be looking at you next.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Or you.”

I studied him a moment, wondering, then I nodded. “Or
me. 11

Uncle Patric was short and thin, his curly black hair
showing traces of gray. “But, you right. What do you want
to know?”

“First, you told me yesterday that Pa was in the room
when they found A.D.” I checked my notebook. “In fact,
you said `when we found them.’ ” I looked up from my
notes. “Did you find them?”

He ran his short fingers through his hair. “L’oh mon non.
Oh, my no. Me, I not find them.” He shrugged and sheepishly added, “I hear what others, they say.”

“So, you don’t know if Pa was there when they found
A.D. or not?”

He knit his eyebrows. “Your pa, he was playing poker
with A.D. when it happen.”

I grinned at him. “I know. Who told you about the murder?”

“Ezeline. Maybe she find them.”

“All right, Ezeline. Now, here’s what I know so far. Eze line, Marie, Pa, A.D., Bailey, lolande, and Leroi went upstairs. Those are the ones I want to talk about first.”

Patric waved his hand back and forth. “Not Leroi. He
never do nothing like that.”

“I don’t think so either. But he was seen going up the
stairs, and the murder weapon was one of his screwdrivers.
All I want you to do is answer a few questions for me. I
figure if we jot down this information while it is fresh on
our minds, then that should help the state police when they
get here.”

He studied me a moment, then sipped his coffee. “What
you want?”

“Iolande first. What do you think the chances are that
she stabbed A.D. and poisoned Ozzy, and then accidentally
climbed into bed with a cottonmouth?”

Uncle Patric snorted. “Not much, Tony.”

I nodded. “Me neither. So that leaves Ezeline, Marie, Pa,
Bailey, and Leroi.”

“Of that group, who would have reason to kill A.D.?”

His face darkened. “I say not Leroi.”

“I know, but the others. Which of the others would have
reason to kill A.D.?”

A smirk smeared a sneer across his lips. “Most all. My
cousin, he steal from whole family,” he said, making a
sweeping gesture that took in the entire kitchen.

He punched himself in the chest. “Me. He steal from me.
He steal from my papa. I once think about shooting A.D.”
His voice dropped lower. “Once, when he drive down the
road in his fancy Cadillac, I put crosshairs of my deer rifle
on his head. I think then to kill him.” He laid a single finger
on the image of St. Peter, patron saint of fisherman, which
dangled from the silver necklace around his neck. “But, I
do not. I know from the priests that one day my cousin
will answer for what he do.”

“What about the others?”

He shook his head. “Your pa, he big drunk. He don’t
have the muscle. My boy-no.” His shoulders slumped. His voice grew soft, filled with remorse. “I give my boy
nothing, only a life others joke about. He make something
of himself. Not because of me, but because he be a good
man.” He paused to sip his coffee. “lolande? She got no
reason. She and A.D., they like that,” he said, holding up
crossed fingers. “Of all you mention, Ezeline, she be the
one with most hate in her heart.”

I sat back, stunned. “Ezeline?”

A faint grin played over his wrinkled face. “That surprise
you, Tony?”

I forced a nervous laugh. “In a word, yes.”

“Ezeline, she never forgive Bailey for letting A.D. cheat
him out of the family money. She hate A.D. for what he
do. Ezeline, she don’t like living in a shack while A.D., he
live in big house in country. The only reason Bailey come
to reunion is because Ezeline insist. She say A.D. owe them
something for what he done stole.”

I considered Patric’s answer. Looking at the story the
way he told it, a couple pieces of the puzzle fit together.
She could have gone into the room, found Pa passed out,
killed A.D., stole his money clip, and later claimed she
found it in Bailey’s suitcase.

But why would she deliberately put the blame on her
husband? Was their life so miserable? On the other hand,
Ezeline could be desperate. She had no job skills. She had
never worked. If Bailey were included in A.D.‘s will, and
ended up in prison, all the money would be Ezeline’s. Not
a bad motive.

For every question answered, I found half a dozen more
without answers.

“Was Bailey in A.D.‘s will?”

With a shrug, Patric shook his head. “I don’t think so.
After A.D.‘s wife die, I figure he leave everything to his
children, Osmond and Bonni.” He paused, then added,
“Maybe lolande in the will.”

I studied the coffee cup in my hands. “Even so, now it’s just Bonni. She’d be the perfect suspect if she were here.
Where is she? You know?”

“L’oh mon non. She go two, maybe three years back.
A.D., he spend much, but she not wants to be found, so he
don’t find her.”

“What about Marie? She’s the only one left who had
gone upstairs.”

“No. Marie’s husband, Walter, he smart enough that
A.D., he don’t cheat him much. The first time, he do, but
afterward, Walter know what to do. They not rich, but they
got enough to keep gumbo in the pot.”

I nodded, studying my notes.

Patric’s voice dropped to a whisper. “There be one I not
blame if she kill A.D. and lolande.”

“Huh?” I looked up sharply. “But who? We’ve talked
about everyone that went upstairs.”

He nodded. “Oui. She not go upstairs, but if she know
the truth, then she have more reason to hate A.D. than
anyone.”

I was puzzled. “Who?”

Uncle Patric nodded to the parlor. “Giselle.”

“Giselle?” I stared at him in disbelief, my jaw dropping
open.

He leaned forward. “One reason be A.D. her father. But
she don’t know. No one ever tell her. Not her mama, Affina, not A.D. her papa. Me, I think maybe only them two,
they know.”

I’m not too swift to begin with, but when someone yanks
that kind of family skeleton from the closet, it can blow a
few brain cells. “But-but Affina and A.D., they’re cousins. Affina and A.D. are cousins.”

Patric arched his eyebrows and shrugged. “Oui.”

I eyed him skeptically. “How do you know all this?”

He shrugged. “Once, when A.D. drink too much, he gots
all teary-eyed and told me. He don’t remember nothing
later.”

For several seconds, I stared at him, trying to fit his stunning revelations into my own sense of order and propriety.

They didn’t fit.

“I still can’t believe it. They’re cousins.”

Patric smiled sadly. “And my boy is black.”

I leaned back and stared blankly at my uncle. Now I
understood why he stayed drunk so much.

A thought popped into my head. “You said `one reason
was that A.D. was her father.’ Is there another? Is there
something else?”

Uncle Patric glanced surreptitiously around the parlor.
“A.D. and lolande, they send Bonni away. She fool them
and don’t go where they say. Now they don’t know where
she be.”

He had me confused. “What does that have to do with
Giselle?”

“Giselle, she good woman. Help family always. Me, I
think fine woman, and I always feel sorry because she
never have no one close to her.” His voice dropped to a
whisper. “I don’t know what you hear, Tony, but Giselle,
she is different. Her and Bonni … they go much places
together … they are very close to each other … more than
family kin.” He grimaced, trying to decide how to say what
he wanted to say. “A.D. and lolande, they don’t want Bonni
spend so much time with Giselle, so they send her away.”
He shrugged. “Me, I don’t know if Giselle, she knows why
Bonni leave or not. Me, I’m just an old man who don’t
know much.” He hesitated, a slight grin playing over his
lips in relief of having said what he did.