Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 13 - The Diamonds of Ghost Bayou (15 page)

“Nope. Not yet. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Boudreaux, huh? You a cop?”

“Plain citizen. A friend of mine bought your old house on
Ghost Bayou. Someone worked him over trying to find the diamonds.”

“So?”

“So, I figured on trying my hand at running them down. There’s
still a 25 percent reward for the return of the loot.”

A faint smile played over his lips as if he were harboring a
secret. He glanced at his watch and then pushed the screen open.
“I wouldn’t mind talking about the diamonds again. It’s been
years. Come on in. I was just getting ready to relax out on the
patio with an ice-cold mint julep. How does that sound to you?”

“I’m your man,” I replied, stepping through the open door
and following Ramsey out back, noting how his bulk forced
him to swing his arms and legs wide when he waddled.

He pointed through another screen. “There’s the garden. Go
on out. I’ll make us some drinks.”

The yard was about a thirty-by-thirty square enclosed with the
same faded red bricks as the surrounding buildings. In front of
the walls grew bougainvillea. Lush flowers in myriad reds and
yellows and pinks sprouted in profusion in the beds along all
four walls, their pleasant aromas hanging heavy in the humid air.

In the middle of the garden was a red-tiled patio with a fishpond in the middle. Various species of goldfish swam in the clear
water.

I stood watching them until I heard the screen close.

Ramsey gestured to one of the cushioned patio chairs in the
shade and placed the tray with the pitcher of mint juleps and
glasses on the garden table beside the chair.

He poured a glass and handed it to me, then poured his own
and eased down into the chair across from the round garden
table. Sipping his drink, he leaned back in his chair. “All right
now, Mr. Boudreaux. Let’s talk about the diamonds.”

I sipped the mint julep. It was light on the julep, which was
fine with me. The minty-flavored water was ice cold and refreshing. “Delicious.”

“I’ve always preferred them light.” He squinted up at the blue
sky and the bright sunlight cutting a slash across the top floor
of the adjoining building. “Never really liked straight whiskey
on hot days. In winter, when the rain is icy and the wind miserable, straight whiskey is fine.” He sipped his drink. “But you
didn’t come here to talk about mint juleps.”

I leaned forward. “No. The diamonds that Al Theriot and the Judice boys heisted here in New Orleans. You remember
Theriot?”

“How could I forget him? I bought his place on the bayou back
in-” He paused and frowned. “I don’t remember exactly when,
but it was the mid-nineties.”

“And then you sold it to Big Tim Strollo five or six years
later, right?”

He looked at me in surprise and, with a wry edge to his voice,
remarked, “You’ve done your homework, I see.”

“I try. You know some diamonds turned up a few years later,
I suppose?”

He suppressed a laugh. “I heard about that. Talk about a kick
in the head.”

“Oh?” I leaned forward. “How’s that?”

He paused, studying me for a few moments as if he were trying to decide what to say next. “What if I told you Al Theriot
and me had planned the heist?”

Over the years, I’ve dealt with individuals from just about
every stratum of society, from homeless winos in back alleys to
aristocratic snobs who believe they’re better than the rest of the
world. I’ve managed to fashion a fairly tight rein on my emotions, remaining impassive, at least on the outside, to elicit as
much information as possible.

My resolve failed me at his announcement. “You-you what?”

“Well, maybe planned isn’t the best word when you get right
down to it, but Al and I talked about the job.” He paused. “You
know, for you to run me down over here tells me you’re not one
of those muscle-bound bozos with sawdust for brains.”

I shrugged, wondering if he meant that as a compliment.

He continued. “Obviously, you’ve carried out quite a bit of research back in Priouxville, so you’re bound to know that I sold
out to Strollo because of financial reverses.” He paused, staring
at me, his eyes questioning.

“I might have heard something about it,” I replied.

“Oh, yeah. You heard. You had to. And if you’re as smart as
I figure, you probably think the diamonds are how I got this
place here.”

“Well, it does make a person wonder.”

“I bet. Anyway, Al and I hit it off when we first met. That
was a couple years earlier, when I had leased a cabin farther
down on the bayou. Then I bought his place when he hit hard
times. Later, he came to me wanting money to pay off some
gambling debts. By then I’d lost three quarters of my own in vestments. So we started looking around for alternatives. In
other words,” he added, “the heist.”

Shifting his bulk in the cushioned chair, Ramsey chuckled.
“Later, when I was by myself, I realized just what a stupid idea
it was, so I backed out. But not Al. He was determined to go
through with it. He’d even lined up a fence in Baton Rouge.”

He saw the question on my face. “No, I didn’t ask, and he
didn’t tell me who it was. Said I was better off not knowing.
After that, he never mentioned the job again. I kept telling myself he’d forgotten about it. I suppose that’s what I wanted to
believe.” He paused to down the rest of his drink and gestured
to mine. “You’re not drinking.”

“Huh? Oh. Fascinating story,” I remarked, taking a long sip of
the libation, not only because it was refreshing, but also because I needed a stiff drink after his announcement.

Pouring himself another, Ramsey continued. “You believe in
luck, Mr. Boudreaux?”

“Bad luck, yeah. Good luck? Not much. Why?”

“Well, I imagine that’s how old Al felt. You see, luck or fate,
or whatever you want to call it, stepped in and threw him a
wicked curve. He had made arrangements to meet the fence
after the heist. On the way to the meeting, the fence was killed
in a car wreck on the interstate. And there was Al, stuck with
eight million dollars in diamonds hotter than old Satan’s barbecue pit.”

“So that’s why he hid them?”

“Yeah. I was visiting family over in Texas when the news
broke that Eloi Saint Julian’s had been hit. It was on every TV
channel and radio station. Well, when I returned two or three
days later, Al was waiting for me at the house.”

“Your place?”

“Yeah. The one I’d bought from him. Oh, we were good
friends. Both confirmed bachelors. From time to time over the
years, we’d have a fish fry or barbecue at his place or mine.
Even after I bought his house, we kept partying together. You
know, that sort of thing. He was a real personable guy.”

He hesitated, then continued his story. “I could tell he was
worried. He said the Judice brothers went back home after the
heist as if nothing had happened. In fact, they had reported to
work at the local fish house the next morning. He’d already hidden the diamonds. That’s when he told me about the fence.”

Ramsey paused and shook his head. “You know, he really believed they’d pulled it off. Masks, gloves, stolen car, two of them
were in and out of the jewelry store in ninety seconds. The car
waited at the curb. Five minutes later, they switched cars out in
the Ninth Ward. You know the Ninth?”

“Do I? Those old boys can strip a car in thirty seconds out
there. I’m surprised their getaway car was in one piece.”

“That was where they fouled up. Al paid an old boy to keep
it safe. He broke under questioning. All he could tell the cops
was the make, model, and color, but that’s all they needed.”

I drained my glass and refilled it from the pitcher. “How long
did it take?”

“Before the cops nailed him?”

“Yeah.”

“Longer than I expected. About six months or so. From what
I heard, the Judice boys dodged the law for five or six years.
They might have beat the statute of limitations, but one of them
got drunk and talked.”

Donat Judice, I told myself.

Overhead, the evening clouds took on a golden sheen from the
setting sun. I glanced around the small, snug garden, a perfect
refuge from the bustling world beyond. “He never mentioned
the diamonds again?”

“A couple of days before they nailed him. He’d dropped by
my place. From the way he acted, he knew his string had just
about run out. That was when he told me he had split the loot
and hidden it in two different spots.”

“That was the last you saw of him?”

“Oh, no. I visited him two or three times before he got himself killed. Kind of hated not to, you know? I’d be sitting there,
looking through the glass at him, and thinking, `Man, that could
be me rotting away in there.’ You know what I mean?”

Chuckling, I replied, “Yeah. I know.”

“Did he ever say anything else about the diamonds?”

Ramsey looked up at me. “One time. He told me he’d arranged to fence some of the diamonds to pay a lawyer to spring
him. He begged me to get the diamonds. I refused at first, but
by then, I knew I was going to have to get rid of the house. I was
running out of money. So I agreed.”

I sat forward in the cushioned chair. “How much was he talking about?”

Ramsey shrugged. “I don’t know. I never got them.” When he
saw my frown, he continued. “Two days later, he was dead. I left
the diamonds alone. I didn’t want the hassle of answering all
kinds of questions and perhaps being charged as an accessory. I
had a cousin who lived in Priouxville, K. D. Dople. He’s dead
now, but he’d spent a lot of time out at the house. I made the
mistake of telling him about the jewels. A few days later, he got
nailed for burglary and spent time in jail. As soon as he got out,
him and an old boy by the name of Lester Percher just up and
vanished from the parish. Then some of the diamonds showed
up in a pawnshop in Alexandria.” He snorted. “Idiots probably
didn’t get even ten cents on the dollar.”

I whistled softly, thinking of Lester Percher’s shrimp boat.
“You’re probably right,” I said. “What happened to Dople?”

“Whacked.”

“They ever find out who did it?”

“Nah. Sheriff Lacoutrue of Priouxville had asked me about
K. D. after the jewels turned up. He figured Lester or K. D. might
be mixed up in it, since both of them had left town.” He paused.
“Neither of them had what you could call a sterling reputation
around there.”

I shook my head. “Those were the diamonds hidden in the
wall of one of the service bays at the car lot, right?”

He stared at me in disbelief. “How-”

“Percher.”

“You found him?”

“Yep. He’s like a clam,” I lied. I couldn’t see what good it
would do to tell him of Lester’s shrimp boat. The whole situation was confused enough. No sense in muddying the water any further.

“Can’t say I blame him,” he said, amused.

“Now, what was it you were saying?”

“Well, Lacoutrue even checked on my finances. Like you, he
probably wondered if I used the diamonds to help get into this
place.”

“Well, Mr. Ramsey, you have to admit, the situation does warrant the question.”

“I understand that. I take it you didn’t check back through
parish records. If you had, you’d have seen that Al’s old man
paid the Prioux family thirty thousand for the place. When A]
got the place, he put a bundle into it. I paid a hundred thousand,
and Strollo-” Lowering his voice, he continued, “Strollo didn’t
care what he spent. It was Mafia money anyway. He paid two
hundred. I came over here with just enough down payment to
get into this place.”

I thought I already knew the answer to the next question that
had been nagging at me, but I wanted to hear it from him. “With
a superintendent’s retirement, you should have been able to stay
on the bayou”

He laughed, and to give him credit, his ears turned red with
embarrassment. “I messed up when I retired. I thought I knew
all about investing, so I took only a third in annuities. The rest I
took in a lump sum that I invested, planning on making a million bucks.”

In a way, I felt sorry for the guy. “It happens.”

He reached for the pitcher. “Looks like we need a refill.”

I begged off. “No more for me, thanks”

“You sure?”

“Positive” I remembered Emerente and Brasseaux over at
the Priouxville Bayou News talking about how picky Theriot had
been in the reconstruction of the house. “You say Theriot put a
bundle into building the place?”

“Yeah”

“I heard he was real particular about it.”

He shrugged as he poured himself another mint julep. “I heard the same thing. I can tell you, and you probably noticed
if you’ve been at the place, the workmen did a beautiful job. Of
course, to be honest, why he wanted to fit old railings and balusters from the original home onto the stairs puzzled me. If I’d
stayed, I would have replaced them”

“I thought I was the only one who had noticed,” I said.