A Thousand Lies (40 page)

Sam was fatalistic, and Chance was angry at himself for waiting so long to make his break. They left discussing the need to hire lawyers.

Chapter Twenty-One

When LaDelle was informed the DEA agents were coming to talk to her, she was scared to death they were going to arrest her for abetting in Anson’s trade.

Claudette knew Delle was nervous, but she had a plan. Instead of putting makeup on her sister to face the agents, she had her scrub her face clean. Now Delle waited for their arrival with a newly shorn head, sporting sixteen metal staples instead of a part in her hair, and a completely unadorned face. It made her look younger, even tragic, a victim rather than a co-conspirator. To add to the drama, she’d left LaDelle’s feet uncovered, knowing they would also see the painfully pink and healing skin.

Just before 3:00 p.m., there was a knock at the door. Delle braced herself, gripping Claudette’s fingers tighter as the door opened. But it wasn’t the agents. It was Grayson March, accompanied by a stranger.

Grayson was taken aback by LaDelle’s appearance and knew his instinct for coming here had been a good one.

“LaDelle, I apologize for coming without calling, but may we come in?”

Delle frowned. “If you’ve come to visit, I’m not much in the mood. I’m expecting some agents from the DEA.”

“After speaking to my daughter today, I gathered as much. But now to the reason we’re here. LaDelle Poe, this is my lawyer, Armen Bales. He’s going to represent you until all this is ironed out.”

Delle blushed. “I can’t pay a lawyer, and I sure can’t afford Mr. Bales.”

“No, no, you misunderstood,” Grayson said. “He’s at your disposal and I’m picking up the bill.”

Delle was stunned. “That’s very kind, Grayson, but I can’t let you do that.”

Grayson sighed. “Well, actually you can. In fact, you probably should, considering the fact that we’re most likely going to be in-laws one of these days.”

“Let him help,” Claudette whispered.

Delle clutched her sister’s hand. “I’m sure you remember my sister, Claudette DuVeau. She’s been a rock for us throughout this whole ugly mess.”

Grayson smiled. “Of course I remember you. It’s great to see you again. Claudette, my lawyer, Armen Bales. Armen, this is LaDelle’s sister, Claudette DuVeau.”

The lawyer nodded and smiled, then turned his attention to Delle.

“So, Mrs. Poe, Mr. March told me part of what’s happened, but I need to ask some questions before the agents show up.”

“Ask away,” Delle said.

The lawyer moved closer to her bed as they began to talk.

When Claudette stepped away, Grayson followed, still eyeing the majestic woman and the gray dreadlocks hanging halfway down her back.

“You look amazing,” he told her. “And you definitely outgrew me,” he added.

Claudette smiled. “Do not feel bad. At my height, I look down on a lot of people.”

Grayson nodded. “Brendan is very tall, too.”

“All of Delle’s children are tall, even Linny.”

And just like that, the mood shifted. “Is she okay?” he asked.

Claudette shrugged. “She will be. The blessing is that they did not have her long enough to do anything but scare her.”

Grayson sighed. “Thank the Lord. I kept remembering how terrified I was when Juliette was kidnapped, and she was a grown woman who understood what was happening. There’s no way to imagine what horrors a child would make out of all that.”

“Yes, this is true. We are blessed.”

“We’re both blessed, and a good portion of that belongs to Brendan. Once again he has surprised and amazed me,” Grayson said.

Claudette eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I understood you were not so pleased about your daughter’s friendship with my nephew.”

“I wasn’t, but I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong,” Grayson said.

“Detective Carson is helping him get into the police academy,” Claudette added.

Grayson was sincerely happy to hear this. It would go a long way in making Brendan Poe socially acceptable for Lana.

“That’s wonderful news, and in light of the recent events, it seems he has a knack for doing the right thing,” Grayson said.

“We think so,” Claudette said.

“And I concur.”

Claudette smiled. “It is good when families get along.”

He returned the smile. “Yes, ma’am, that it is.”

At that point, there was another knock on the door and then two men entered.

“LaDelle Poe?”

“Yes, I’m LaDelle,” she said as they flashed their badges.

“Agent Faro, DEA, and my partner, Agent White. We need to speak with you.”

“I’ll be leaving now,” Grayson said and nodded to the men as he passed them on the way out the door.

Grayson’s lawyer introduced himself.

“Armen Bales, attorney at law. I’ll be representing Mrs. Poe.”

The agents were taken aback as they spoke to LaDelle.

“Does this mean you’re not going to cooperate?” Faro asked.

“I’m happy to answer any question you ask, but Mr. Bales is going to make sure I don’t wind up being railroaded into jail for being married to the devil,” she said.

“Then let’s get down to business. For the record, we’ll be recording this,” Agent White said.

Bales pulled out a similar device. “As will I,” he countered.

The questioning began.

When did they begin growing marijuana?

What part did she play in it?

Did she ever entertain drug dealers in her home?

And with every question answered, Delle’s opinion of herself grew smaller and smaller. Even when Bales interjected to make sure she didn’t incriminate herself, she continued to feel shame. Her eyes were swimming with tears—her chin trembling with every word she spoke, but she’d didn’t falter, not even when the nurse came in to check her wound and inject pain meds in her IV. At that point, the agents stopped and stepped back.

The nurse administered the meds, filled her water pitcher, then paused at the bedside.

“Is there anything you need, honey?”

Delle pointed toward her bare feet.

“My feet are really hurting. I scratched them up when my son and I were searching the property for my daughter, and I don’t want them to get infected just as they’ve finally begun to heal.”

The nurse moved down to the foot of the bed to get a closer look at Delle’s feet. It was obvious that the new skin on the healing burns was scratched, and in some places completely gone.

“This isn’t good,” the nurse said. “I’ll need to call the doctor to get orders, but we’ll get something on this. Be right back.”

Delle leaned back against the pillow as the nurse left the room.

Faro had been empathetic to a point, but he’d seen far too many family members wrapped up in the drug trade to buy the hopelessness of their situation. However, now that attention had been called to her feet, he was curious.

“What happened there?” he said.

“Anson poured hot coffee on my feet a few weeks ago. They were just beginning to heal.”

Faro frowned. “Poured it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“What for?” he asked.

Delle looked up at him. “Because it amused him, that’s why.”

Agent White shifted uneasily then glanced at his partner.

Faro frowned. “You and your two oldest sons are adults. Why would you continue to stay with someone like this if you disagreed so strongly with how he behaved? Why didn’t you turn him in for spousal abuse, or for the drug trade, if you so violently disapproved?”

“My sons stayed to protect me and my daughter, and that’s my burden to bear for staying with him.”

“Well, obviously that didn’t work, considering what just happened to your daughter. But why
did
you stay? Why didn’t you turn him in?”

She gestured at her body. “Look at me. I have broken bones that healed without ever being set. I’ve been raped and beaten so many times I’ve lost count. You don’t know him. You don’t know how vicious he could be. I had to stay. As for turning him in, that’s a joke. He would have been out on bond within hours, and the moment he laid eyes on me for what I’d done, my children and I would’ve been killed in retribution.”

Agent Faro remembered Brendan Poe making a similar statement and ended the recording.

“I think we have enough for now.”

The lawyer turned his recorder off, as well.

“Have you spoken to Anson Poe?” Armen Bales asked.

“He lawyered up. We’ll be talking to both him and Riordan tomorrow.”

Armen Bales eyed the agents, aware they didn’t have the power to make deals, but it was time to offer one up.

“I’ve been told that Samuel Poe has documentation that will incriminate both his father and Wesley Riordan, not only for the growth and sale of marijuana, but also the sale of LaDelle’s daughter, Belinda. And remember Chance Poe was personally responsible for burning the fields that put his father out of the drug business. While Mrs. Poe cannot be forced to testify against her husband, she is more than willing to do so. It might be in your best interests to give my client, and her sons, complete immunity in return for testimony that would assure convictions on both men, putting them behind bars for a long, long time.”

Faro shrugged. “We don’t have the authority to offer or discuss any of that.”

Bales smiled. “But you have access to people who do. I think Mrs. Poe has been forthcoming enough for one day, and since it appears she’s in need of more medical treatment, we need to be finished here.”

“Agreed,” Faro said.

Bales shook Delle’s hand. “Mrs. Poe, I hope you are able to get some rest. I’ll be in touch.” He gestured toward the door. “Gentlemen, after you.”

Moments later, they were gone.

Delle looked at Claudette, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ve never felt so worthless in my entire life,” she whispered.

Claudette scooted onto the side of the bed and took her sister in her arms. “You are not worthless, and after hearing what you said to those men, it has become obvious to me that you are a battered woman. Being abused and controlled as you have been all these years, it is actually amazing that you are still alive.”

Delle started to weep. “I let my children down. I got all of them in trouble. I would gladly go to prison if they would be set free.”

“Grayson March has done you a great favor, my sister. That lawyer is a very smart man, and I’m thinking you will all come out of this just fine.”

“I sure hope so,” Delle said and reached for a tissue to wipe her eyes.

By the time the nurse came back with medicine and bandages for her feet, Delle had her emotions in control. She sent her sister home with much gratitude and a hug, then closed her eyes and went to sleep, too exhausted to dwell on the future.

****

Anson Poe was causing trouble in lockup. Within hours of being jailed, the clothes he’d been issued caught fire, and he’d barely gotten out of them before being burned. The jailer hadn’t been able to find any kind of matches or lighters to have caused it, and Anson kept telling them it was voodoo. They issued a second set of clothing, but he refused to wear anything combustible again, and it was still folded and lying on the corner of his cot. His face was on fire from the scratches left behind from Delle’s fingernails, and he spent the entire night naked and screaming for help, claiming the place was about to catch fire. The jailer’s threats had done nothing to silence him, and neither had the other prisoners’ complaints.

****

After a night of pure terror, Anson was sitting in a corner of the jail, his head was down and his shoulders trembling as he continued to wail. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a coffin with the lid ajar, his charred body inside, burned black as a piece of coal.

He had never believed in God.

He had never believed in voodoo.

But every breath he took now was spent begging a God he didn’t know to save him from a curse that didn’t exist.

Just before noon, his lawyer showed up. When the jailer came to get him and saw the shape he was in, he frowned.

“Hey, Poe! Get up and get dressed. Your lawyer’s here.”

Anson put his hands over his ears and began shaking his head in denial. “Nope, nope, can’t get dressed. No clothes. They’ll burn. I’ll die. Not moving. Can’t go.”

The jailer shrugged. “It’s your funeral,” he muttered, but Anson heard it and began screaming.

“NO! It’s not my funeral. It’s not. I can’t die. It’s not fair. I’m saying prayers. Make it go away.”

The jailer left, but came back shortly with the lawyer.

The lawyer took one look at his client, and his heart sank. “Mr. Poe, It’s me, Larry Feinstein. We need to talk.”

Anson shook his head wildly, waving his arms at the man to go away. “Can’t talk. Can’t look. I’ll burn. Tell God I’m sorry. Tell Him I won’t do it again.”

“Do what?” Feinstein asked.

“Set any more fires. Tell God I’m sorry about Frenchie’s, and the Quarter, and Voltaire. Tell God I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Feinstein stared in disbelief. “Are you saying that you’re responsible for burning down Frenchie’s, as well as the ensuing fires that burned through the French Quarter?”

Anson rolled over onto his side and curled up in a fetal position with his hands over his head, his gaze fixed.

“Yes, yes, sorry. Voltaire knew. Had to keep him quiet. Tell God I’m sorry, sorry, sorry. Make Him take away the curse.”

Feinstein’s lips parted, but for the life of him, he had no response. His client had just confessed to arson and murder, as well as to the rest of the mess he was in, which left him wondering how to proceed.

“What do you want to do?” the jailer asked.

“He needs a psych evaluation before anything else transpires. I’m through here for now,” Feinstein said.

The jailer escorted him out with Poe’s screams following his retreat.

“Tell God I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Make Him take away the curse.”

****

Brendan had a sack of groceries in one hand, and his door key in the other. His little sister walked beside him, as always, with her finger hooked in the waistband of his jeans. But this time, she had a new stuffed toy tucked under her arm. After nine years of Linny and Rabbit, Rabbit had been left behind and buried.