False Pretenses (15 page)

“I just want the Lord to make an honest woman out of you, hon, and help you break this cycle of lying. You’ll never be free as long as you’re living a lie. There I go repeating myself. I’ve already said what I have to say. It’s not my style to coerce you to confess everything to your husband. It has to come from the heart, and that is most definitely your personal business.”

“I appreciate that. So just to be clear: You’re fine with me discreetly paying you back in monthly installments of a thousand a month?”

“Yes. I’m glad you told me the truth and unburdened yourself. I just hope that sometime soon you’ll have the courage to end the deception by telling Pierce the whole truth. I’m sure you were afraid of my reaction, too. But see how it’s working out?”

“Trust me, Mrs. Woodmore. It wouldn’t work out with Pierce. So I have your word you won’t tell him?”

“Oh, you have my word, hon. But I’m not going to stop praying that God will intervene and make this right. It’s not going to be over just because you sign the papers.”

CHAPTER 14

Zoe sat on a wrought-iron bench in Cypress Park, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun and bemoaning that Pierce and his kitchen staff felt compelled to keep the eatery feeling nearly as cold as the deep freeze.

At least she had a viable excuse to leave the building so she could get quiet and relish the relief of having squared things with Adele. What was there left to do? Hadn’t she confessed every detail of her deception and agreed to pay Adele the thirty thousand dollars over the next thirty months? Adele wouldn’t accept any interest. Could the woman have been any kinder? Any more forgiving? So why had she insisted that it wouldn’t be over when Zoe signed the papers? Of course it would be over. It was as though a giant boulder had been lifted off her shoulders. What difference did it make now if this mystery man attempted to blackmail her? Or threatened to go to Adele with what he knew? Zoe had beaten him to it.

She breathed in ever so slowly and exhaled, imagining all the tension of her ordeal with Adele leaving her body. She turned her gaze on a handful of white-faced ibis picking through the grass between the pond and the amphitheater. About ten yards directly in front of her, three roseate spoonbills, their feathers two different shades of vibrant pink, sifted the shallow water around the perimeter of the pond. A group of preschoolers occupying a nearby picnic table sang “Happy Birthday” to a little girl with blonde pigtails. Out in the open, about fifty yards from where she sat, two teenage boys took turns throwing an orange Frisbee for a golden retriever.

She heard someone call her name and looked up just as Vanessa Langley let loose of Carter’s hand and sent him running toward her.

“Miss Zoe! Miss Zoe! Did you see the pink birds?” he shouted.

Carter came to an abrupt halt directly in front of her, his dimpled cheeks flushed, his eyes bluer than the summer sky.

“They’re in the pond,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Thwee of them!”

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Zoe brushed his thick bangs off his damp forehead. “They’re called roseate spoonbills. I know those are hard words for a little boy to say.”

“Wosy spoonbells,” he said proudly, clutching Georgie to his chest.

Close enough
. Zoe smiled and gave him a hug, then looked up at Vanessa. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Her new friend looked lovely in a yellow sundress and designer sandals, her long dark hair pulled back and tied with a matching scarf. Did she even sweat?

“I wouldn’t normally go walking in the heat of the day,” Vanessa said, “but Carter was such a good boy while we waited to speak with the sheriff that I took him out for ice cream and let him play on the playground. We were on our way back to the apartment when we spotted you.”

“I’m just out here thawing out,” Zoe said. “It’s hard to regulate the air-conditioning in our building. And in order to keep the kitchen comfortable, Pierce has to crank it down lower than I would like. At least customers don’t complain.”

“Always feels comfortable to me,” Vanessa said.

“Good. So did the sheriff have anything more to say about the investigation at the manor house?”

“Actually he did.” Vanessa tilted Carter’s chin upward. “Sweetie, would you like to play on the slide a few more minutes?”

“Yay! Come on, Georgie.”

Vanessa smiled as Carter raced toward the slides, Georgie tucked under his arm. “He’s hardly turned loose of that stuffed beagle since we left Sophie Trace. I’m surprised he didn’t go back to sucking his thumb.”

“It was a big adjustment moving here, wasn’t it?”

Vanessa nodded. “Exciting though. We’re all looking forward to the renovation process at the manor house. We just never expected to be in the middle of a murder investigation.”

“Did the sheriff find something?”

“Actually he did. I haven’t even told Ethan yet. It’s a lot to process.”

“Well, if you want to process out loud,” Zoe said, “I’m a good sounding board.”

“The sheriff asked me to keep it between me and Ethan. Can you keep a secret?”

“Absolutely.”

Vanessa sat on the bench, her arms folded, and seemed lost in thought for a moment. Finally she said, “We know for sure there was an intruder at the manor house.”

“How?”

Zoe listened intently as Vanessa told her about the matching DNA on the lemon drop found at Langley Manor and chewing gum found at the crime scene. And about the staircase and secret tunnel.

“Good heavens,” Zoe said. “So Carter
didn’t
imagine the man in the closet.”

“Looks that way. The same shoe prints were cast at both places, but that doesn’t really prove the intruder was involved in the lynching, so the sheriff isn’t releasing the information to the media. Other than Pierce, you need to keep this to yourself.”

“I will.” Zoe studied Vanessa’s profile and her long eyelashes. “Did you and Ethan know about the tunnel?”

“No. And my curiosity’s on tilt. I’m sure the blueprints don’t show a door in the back of the closet or the stairs and tunnel. I wonder if Ethan’s great-grandparents even knew about it. They were the last to live in the house. They did a lot of renovating, but never knocked out walls.”

“I’m curious too,” Zoe said. “At least the trapdoor is locked from the inside so you don’t have to worry about the intruder anymore.”

“But he’s still out there. That gives me the creeps. Especially the thought that he might have been involved in the lynching.” Vanessa twirled a lock of her hair. “Pierce told me the victim was a friend of yours.”

“He was. Remy delivered newspapers to Zoe B’s every morning for the past ten years. He was like a little brother. So innocent. He was thirty-something but with the mind of seven-year-old. Killing him was no different than killing a child.” Zoe blinked away the sadness. Where was she going to get the strength to grieve Remy’s death when she had just invested every ounce of emotional energy into cleaning up her past?

“I’m really sorry,” Vanessa said. “Such a senseless crime.”

“Remy was well-loved in Les Barbes. Let’s just hope his murder doesn’t trigger violence before the authorities figure out who did it.”

“I’m on overload. My head is spinning.” Vanessa rose to her feet. “I hate to run, Zoe, but I’ve been gone all afternoon. I need to get my pork chops in the oven. Ethan will be home soon.”

Vanessa took of sip of sweet tea and glanced over at the open door, watching Carter playing with his toy submarine in the bathtub.

“I’m anxious to find out if your dad or uncles knew about the tunnel,” Vanessa said.

“My guess is they didn’t.” Ethan pursed his lips, his eyebrows arched above his round glasses. “I want to know
all
the secrets of that old place and write them down before they’re lost forever.”

“Me, too. I’m going to dig out the rest of Augusta Langley’s diaries. Maybe something she wrote will give us a clue.”

“Well, before we start knocking out walls, I’d sure like to know the significance of the tunnel. It might be worth preserving. Josiah Langley went to a lot of trouble to put it in. The least we can do is find out why.”

“I’d like to walk through it. Maybe the reason for it being there will become obvious.”

“I’ll go with you.” Ethan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “This is intriguing. How do you suppose the guy Carter saw in the closet found out about the tunnel? Maybe he just discovered the trapdoor at the edge of the woods? Then again, how likely is that when it was hidden under brush?”

“Not very. And right now he’s our biggest problem. He’s still out there. When he can’t get the trapdoor open, he might break in.”

“Honey, why would he do that? He has to know the police are investigating. If he’s smart, he’ll get as far away from here as he can.”

“What if he’s not smart?”

Ethan took her hand in his. “Then he’ll get caught even faster. Every law-enforcement agency in the state has been alerted. He, or the other persons involved, are bound to do something suspicious. He’ll be caught eventually. We just need to trust the Lord and try not to worry.”

“I’m angry that he’s defiled your family’s heirloom.”

“The crime didn’t happen at Langley Manor, Vanessa. Why does the fact that he was in the house have to taint the family heirloom?”

“I don’t know. It’s creepy to think he was in there. Maybe they were
all
in there.”

“Maybe. The house is just rooms and doors. The fact that these guys might have slept there and the fact that there’s a secret tunnel just adds mystery and intrigue to the history of Langley Manor and could be just as fascinating to our B-and-B guests as ghost stories.”

Zoe walked into the office and flipped the light on, then let the door close and lock behind her. She realized she had stepped on something and looked down. Under her shoe was an envelope.

“I wondered when I’d get the next one,” she said out loud. “It doesn’t matter what you know. I’m one step ahead of you.” She reached down and picked up the envelope with her name typed on the front. She slit it open and unfolded the note, which had the same type of letters cut from a magazine. But the message was longer this time:
I know what you did. It’s going to cost you. We need to meet. Tell no one. Wait for instructions.

Zoe’s neck muscles tightened. How dare he tell her what to do? Who did he think he was? Should she save this note with the others, or shred them all? She read it again, her mind racing in reverse, trying to figure out who could be doing this. A number of men worked for Adele in the six years Zoe did, but most of them worked outdoors, and she couldn’t even remember names and faces. How could one of them know that she had stolen the ring—especially when the police finally dropped the matter? And how did he figure out where she relocated—and her married name? And why wait ten years to blackmail her? None of it made sense.

Zoe exhaled and stuck the note in her pocket. He could make all the demands he wanted. But the threat to her had been over the minute Adele knew the truth and agreed to let her pay back the money. Zoe was eager to meet with this creep and tell him herself—and before Pierce accidentally intercepted another of his notes and started asking questions.

CHAPTER 15

The next morning, Zoe walked into the dining room at Zoe B’s and spotted Savannah in the waiting area, a bucket on the floor and a mop in her hands.

“There you are,” Zoe said. “What are you doing?”

“I spotted footprints over here and thought I’d pass a mop. We still have a few minutes before we turn on the Open sign.”

Zoe glanced outside at the gray dawn, her thoughts turning to Remy. How many times had she turned on the Open sign and unlocked the door, only to find Remy standing outside with the newspapers?

“Okay, that’s better,” Savannah said. “I’ll go plug in the coffeemakers. Let the Saturday morning rush begin.”

“Wait, I need to ask you something. Did you notice a new male customer that came in alone a few times this past week?”

“Define new.”

“Just someone you’re not used to seeing who kept coming back all week.”

“Not really. A Mr. Shapiro who’s staying in Lafayette on business has been in several times—but always with another man. He said he ran into you and Pierce the other night and you gave him coupons and invited him to try us.” Savannah smiled. “He’s hooked.”

“Anyone else?”

Savannah shrugged. “Not at the moment. I’d have to think about it. You looking for someone specific?”

Just the creep who keeps slipping notes under my door.
“Not really. I’ve given out a lot of coupons to men and was just curious if they’re using them.”

“By the way,” Savannah said, “did you ever pick out a uniform?”

“I found something I like, but I’d like to know what
you
think. I thumbed through the catalog a hundred times, and I’m still inclined to go with a black skirt and white blouse. I really don’t want them to look like uniforms, and it’s unfortunate I have to do this at all. But I’ve had it with being the bad guy when one of the waitresses comes to work dressed inappropriately—present company excluded—and I have to send her home to change. Would it bother you to wear the same thing every day?”

“Not at all, especially if it’s stylish. It’ll be a relief not to buy so many clothes.”

“Actually the blouse is girly. It’s short sleeve with a sweetheart neckline and looks nice tucked in or left out. The skirt is straight and I want it just below the knee. I honestly think the outfit’s flattering.”

“So when do I get to see it?”

“I’ll bring samples in next week and let you try them on. You wear a size two, right?”

“A two or a four, it depends.”

“I’ll bring both. All right, you go plug in the coffeemakers. And I’ll plug in the sign and unlock the front door. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Remy not being on our doorstep when we open.”

Zoe unlocked the door, surprised when Hebert opened it and came in. He was dressed in too-short khaki pants and an unironed blue shirt. At least his white socks matched today and went with his athletic shoes.

“Well, aren’t you the early bird? How are you feeling?”

Hebert kissed her on the cheek, his whiskers chaffing her face. “
Commes les vieux
.”

“Like the old people? What makes you say that? Aren’t you feeling well?”

Hebert put his hand on his heart. “Dis ting dat’s happened to Remy makes me feel all ninety-four years. I was wid Emile last night. He can barely speak.”

Zoe stroked his back. “Come in and have some coffee. Being with friends will help.”

She led Hebert to the table next to the window. “We’ll help each other through this. We’re not going to let whoever killed Remy kill our spirits. We have to be strong and keep going. It won’t always hurt this much.”

Hebert’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he looked outside. “I know dat in my head. Just doesn’t feel dat way right now.”

Zoe, overwhelmed with empathy, fought not to cry and was relieved when the front door opened and Father Sam came inside.

The priest, his full head of white hair neatly combed, walked over to the table and sat across from Hebert. “Hello, friends.” He shot Zoe a questioning look. “Rough morning?”

“Hebert was with Emile last night,” she said.

Father Sam put his hand on Hebert’s. “I wasn’t as close to Remy and Emile as you were. But I’m sad too. And angry. I want the authorities to find the person responsible and punish him for this horrendous crime.”

Hebert nodded. “Dey will. Folks won’t let dis go. Did you see all dose media vans parked outside da courthouse?”

“I sure did,” Father Sam said. “I’ve never seen such a sight here before. You’d have thought we had a terrorist attack or something.”

Zoe raised her eyebrows up and down. “Didn’t we? A hate crime
is
terrorism, even if the terrorists are homegrown. And just because only one man was targeted doesn’t make it less vicious.”

Tex came in the front door and raised his hand. “Mornin’, everyone.” He walked over to the table and settled into the chair next to Hebert. “We’ve got us a little media madness out there—all the major cable channels plus Lafayette, Houma, and New Orleans—as far as I could tell. Could be more. Things are heatin’ up, and the sheriff still isn’t sayin’ whether they have any suspects. But I’m not sure how much he can say durin’ an open investigation either.”

Savannah came to the table and started filling cups with coffee. “Well, he’d better say
something,
unless he wants folks to start reading between the lines. It’s better if they know he doesn’t have anything so they don’t start speculating. That’s how rumors get started.”

Zoe was tempted to tell them about the shoe prints, the DNA, the secret tunnel, and the suspect’s connection to Langley Manor, but Vanessa had made it clear she couldn’t say anything.

“My guess,” Zoe said, “is that Jude’s working every possible angle. He’s got to do everything right. The whole world is breathing down his neck.”

Hebert picked up his cup and blew on his coffee. “Dat’s fuh shore.”

Zoe walked into the office for the fourth time that morning, hoping to find an envelope with “instructions” on how to make contact with the man who intended to blackmail her. What was taking so long? She could hardly wait to see his face when she informed him that Adele knew everything and he wasn’t going to get a nickel from her. It was time to end this before it went any further.

She glanced at her watch. Noon. She was sleepier than she was hungry. Why not go upstairs to her apartment and put her feet up—catch a power nap to help offset her restless night?

She left the office, then walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. On the wood floor in the entryway was an envelope with her name typed on the front! She picked it up, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. She grabbed the letter opener and slit the envelope, then pulled out the note—more letters cut from a magazine and pasted on:
Roux River Park. Landry Trail. 5:00 p.m. Wait at the first turn. I’ll find you. Tell no one.

She knew the exact spot. Not that she was entirely comfortable meeting the mystery man in those dark woods. But it made sense he didn’t want to be seen with her. Would she recognize him? It almost had to be someone who had worked for Adele.

She was curious to find out how much he knew—and how he had come to know it. Hadn’t her clandestine meeting with the jewelry dealer been off the books? Hadn’t he paid her with cash? Hadn’t the money been deposited in three bank accounts in the name of Zoe Benoit? Shelby Sieger no longer existed. How could anyone have figured that out—and that she had moved to Les Barbes? She had left no forwarding address.

Zoe flopped on the couch and stretched out, every muscle in her body begging for rest. Hadn’t she been smart to go to Alexandria and confess everything to Adele? No way was she letting this guy turn her life upside down. All she had to do now was meet with him, tell him why he was wasting his time, and walk away.

Jude Prejean sat at the old oak desk in his office, his hands clasped behind his head, his gaze set on the round, white columns of the Saint Catherine Parish courthouse across the street. The fresh white paint made the historic building seem to glow in the hot July sun.

At the corner of Courthouse and Primeaux a vendor stood on the sidewalk, selling andouille corn dogs.

Jude glanced at his watch. Noon. He listened intently. Now he could hear them. Not far away, the bells of Saint Catherine’s rang out, announcing it was time for the noon recitation of the Angelus. An old man sitting on the courthouse steps took off his hat and bowed his head.

Jude bowed his head in kind and folded his hands as he had done at noon for as long as he could remember. How much longer would the bells be tolerated in Les Barbes? How long before some secular progressive who had no respect for this sacred tradition argued that ringing the bells violated the separation of church and state?

He silently recited the words to the Angelus.
The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary, and she conceived by the Holy Ghost. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.…

“Sheriff?”

Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.…

“Sheriff, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s been a new development.”

Jude opened his eyes and tried to hide his annoyance. “What development?”

Aimee Rivette stepped into his office, the dark roots in her bleached hair taking away from her otherwise professional image. “We have an African-American male in the first interview room who has confessed to hanging Remy Jarvis. I thought you’d want to sit in on this.”

“You thought right.” Jude stood and followed her out into the bustling detective bureau, then kept stride with her as they walked down the hall. “What do we know about him?”

“He came in on his own and doesn’t want legal counsel,” she said. “Name’s Marcum Terrell. Age forty-two. Lives out on Roux River Road, near the sugar mill. Divorced. Currently unemployed. No criminal record. Has ties to a black pride group in New Orleans called BAD—Blacks Against Discrimination.”

“Did you ask the New Orleans PD about this group?”

Aimee nodded. “The group spews a lot of anger toward police. A number of their members and organizers have been arrested for disorderly conduct. Their aim is to draw attention to racial profiling and police brutality against blacks.”

“Are they known to be violent?”

“That’s the thing. Not really. They’re more mouth than muscle. I guess Mr. Confession took it to the next level.”

Jude opened the door to interview room one and let Aimee go in first. “Mr. Terrell, I’m Sheriff Jude Prejean, and this is Deputy Chief Aimee Rivette.” He sat at the table opposite Terrell, next to Aimee. “I understand you have something to tell us.”

“I hanged Remy Jarvis,” Terrell replied. “From a big live oak at the old Vincent place.”

“I see.” Jude tented his fingers and paused for half a minute, letting his authority fill the room. “Why would you do that?”

“He was white. That’s all the reason I needed.”

“Hanging a white man was a pretty bold move.”

“So was hangin’ a black man. How many black men have been lynched in Saint Catherine Parish?”

“None in the past thirty years,” Jude replied. “So why did you just now get motivated to do this? Did your involvement with BAD play into this? We understand you’ve been to a few rallies.”