Lies Agreed Upon (26 page)

“That’s right. Sam, Gloria and even Lillian said you were Desmond’s buddy,” nodded Tess.

“Even Lillian,” echoed Dreux, his eyebrows now lifted in surprise. “You mean Lillian Vanderveld?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention that I met Lillian Vanderveld,”
said Tess. “I found out she was the owner of Josephine’s portrait and arranged to meet her. Lillian said she’d shared with you the old correspondence between Antonio and Josephine. Is that how you know her? She led me to believe there was little interaction between her family and the Cabrera descendants because of some bad blood.”

“Ah, she doubtless recited the old Haas grievances about Muriel and Marie,” smiled Dreux. “My advice is to take it all with a grain of salt. Lillian was always a drama queen. And she was misleading you if she claimed no interaction with the Cabreras and Donovans. In fact, Lill
ian was once a giggling debutante—hard to believe now—who chased both Guy Cabrera and Desmond Donovan,” he smirked.

“Ah, so maybe Guy or Desmond was the blighted romance of poor Lillian’s youth. Clearly, there’s no love lost between her and old Phil, though.”

“So tell me about Desmond then,” prompted Tess. “You were closer to him than Guy.”

Dreux once more contemplated his finger as it widened the drying coffee stain. A wave of some strong emotion briefly tightened his lips but was gone so swiftly Tess was unable to read it.

“Desmond Donovan was my best friend,” Dreux finally murmured. “For you to understand what was so extraordinary about that, I suppose I must go back to our high school days. I was always small in stature, not in the least athletic, and wore thick glasses in my youth. So naturally, I was the boy whose glasses were snatched and held above his head while everyone snickered. Of course, I was superior academically. I knew that someday I would be a successful professional. I just had to get through my high school years in one piece,” he added dryly, glancing up at Tess with a wince for the remembered traumas of adolescence.

“No one ever bullied or snubbed Desmond Donovan,” he continued. “It wasn’t just b
ecause he was rich and handsome. It was in how he laughed, how he walked, how he could face down anyone with the look in his eyes. Even standing still, he vibrated with energy. He was just…” The old man’s brows drew together in concentration as he searched for the right word. “…magnetic. And he was particular about his inner circle. It was a privilege offered to only a few because of something special Desmond saw in you. Can you imagine what it meant to me that I was someone special for him?”

“What about his twin Dylan?” Tess interjected.

“Oh, Dylan was a fraternal not identical twin and was very different in character,” Dreux replied. “He was like a carbon copy of Desmond that had run out of ink and gotten a little blurred. He was weaker, duller and followed his brother’s lead. I’m afraid I thought of Dylan as a sort of extension of Desmond.”

“So how did you and Desmond become close when you were so different?” asked Tess.

“It’s funny how a small incident can change the course of lives,” answered Dreux with a pensive sigh. “One day Desmond sat next to me in a biology class. It was right before the summer vacations, and we had a substitute teacher—a fat little man with a twitchy mouth. His dull lesson couldn’t compete with the freedom outside the open windows. The teacher was writing vocabulary words on the blackboard when Desmond suddenly tapped my arm, held a finger to his lips and passed me his book bag. The next moment, he coolly climbed out the open first-floor window and strolled away. Two other boys scramble after him. The teacher turned around to make a point and looked confused. He probably wondered why the room seemed to have more empty desks. When he turned back to the blackboard, the other boys, one by one, silently escaped. The next time the teacher turned around, I was the only one in the room. We were punished, of course, but the story of the vanishing biology class made Desmond into a hero.”

Tess watched the aged Dreux as he smiled in fond admiration of his teen idol. He conti
nued, “That day, Desmond reappeared as I was waiting for a streetcar in the school’s landmark gazebo—alas, also swept away by Katrina. I still had Desmond’s book bag with me. He sat down and put his arm around me. ‘Hey, Phil the Brain, thanks for taking care of my books. You’re alright. Come over to my house for a party this weekend,’ he said.”

“So you and Desmond were close friends from then on, even after high school?
” asked Tess.

“Yes, and you can be sure the bullying stopped once the other boys saw I was under Desmond’s protection. In return, I was happy to help him out with term papers or tutor him for
exams. Desmond had street smarts, but he was not academic. He helped me financially, as a friend and as a good investment. When I passed my bar exams, Desmond hired me to represent the refinery, and my relationship with the refinery has survived even though the Donovans are no longer involved. But I miss Desmond to this day.” The old man rubbed the bridge of his nose, surreptitiously sweeping a finger across the corner of a moist eye.

“Maybe
Desmond is the ‘lost love’ of Dreux’s life.”

“Both Sam Beauvoir and Gloria Donovan said a ‘feud’ existed between Desmond and my grandfather. Why was that?” she probed gently, anxious to take advantage of his reminiscent mood.

“To a certain extent, the competition was bred into them by their families,” he answered, shaking his head. “Desmond’s father, Dad Donovan, nursed an old grudge against the Cabreras and constantly told Desmond and Dylan that more of the Cabrera inheritance should have been theirs. But Desmond also felt frustrated and resentful on his own account. No matter how superior he was in so many ways, he still never earned the affection that everyone showered on Guy. Always coming second to a Cabrera in the court of public opinion embittered Desmond, just as it had embittered his father.”

“Gloria Donovan said
that Desmond blamed Guy for the tragic boat accident that maimed him. She believed that Guy’s guilt over it caused him to give the Cabrera townhouse to the Donovans. She said that if Desmond shared details of the incident with anyone, it would be you. Did Desmond tell you what happened?” coaxed Tess.

“Yes, I was the only one in whom Desmond could confide his feelings about that unne
cessary tragedy,” agreed Dreux with a mournful nod. “It all began at a family party where Guy bragged about his prowess as a hunter and marksman. Guy was tipsy and did it to tease Desmond, who styled himself as the best sportsman in the family. Desmond, who had also imbibed, dared Guy to a duck hunting contest. The alcoholic bravado wore off, but neither one backed away from the challenge.”

“Were you there when the accident happened? I didn’t see your name in the short a
ccount I read, but then I didn’t see my grandfather mentioned either,” interrupted Tess.

“I wasn’t present, but Desmond described the incident in detail many times during the remaining years of his too-short life,” answered Dreux. “The contest was set for a Saturday in November of 1957, I recall. The two teams set out from Alligator Bayou before sunrise, headed for the south shore of Lake Maurepas to see who could shoot the most
waterfowl. Guy and a friend were in one runabout boat with a hired hunting guide, while Desmond and Dylan were in another runabout with a local friend called Noah, who was acting as their guide. Desmond said they shouted teasing remarks to each other at the start. Knowing the bad blood between them, there was probably a sharp edge to the banter. It was dark and there was mist on the water, so low visibility forced them to go slowly.”

“So they didn’t start out racing
,” Tess frowned. “What changed?”

“Guy was at the helm of his boat, and Desmond’s friend Noah was at the wheel of his craft. According to Desmond, some taunt suddenly irritated Guy so much that he sped ahead of Noah, who reacted instinctively by chasing after him,” explained Dreux. “It was only a few m
oments of recklessness, but it was enough for disaster. Guy swung around a bend and hit some submerged debris. His boat flipped, tossing everyone into the water – but without any injuries. Meanwhile Desmond’s boat zoomed past. With all of them looking over their shoulders at Guy’s crash, they shot into the path of a cabin cruiser on the Blind River. Despite a frantic turn, the bows kissed and all of them were ejected. The whirling propeller blades killed Dylan and hacked Desmond’s left arm and leg. Only Noah was uninjured. That is the story. Your grandfather’s party was eventually rescued as they clung to their overturned boat. Meanwhile, Desmond was delivered to an operating room and Dylan to a coroner.”

“You mentioned Desmond’s friend Noah. Miss Gloria said his full name was Noah Cabirac, and that he was also a rival of my grandfather. What do you know about Noah Cabirac?” prodded Tess.

“Ah, Noah, yes,” Dreux murmured. Tess held her breath, willing him to continue. To her relief, he began to narrate a new story. “I haven’t thought about Noah in a long time. He was another high school classmate. Noah was unusual, which is what initially attracted Desmond’s interest. First of all, he was beautiful in a Lucifer-before-the-Fall way. He was lean and muscular with black hair and intense black eyes. Although he had these perfect white teeth, he almost never smiled or laughed, so he seemed very cold and proud. You’d see him leaning against his school locker with his head tilted back and his eyes showing his contempt for the ordinary kids scurrying past.

“
Noah had a strange history, too. He was a boarder—at the time the school had a dormitory for boarders. He came from a poor bayou family, but, according to school gossip, Noah was not really the son of the swamp people who raised him. The story was that he was a foundling found in an unmanned boat floating among the cypress knees, like Moses.”

Tess could not contain her
snort of disbelief, and the old man’s pale eyes turned toward her with an amused twinkle. “I can see from your expression you think it’s malarkey,” he chuckled. “But there was a kernel of truth in the tale. It was true that Noah’s school tuition and board were paid by an anonymous benefactor, for example. According to the gossip, the only clue to his parentage was an antique gold cross on a chain, which had been placed in the abandoned baby’s blankets. And Noah did wear a pretty cross on a chain, even though it looked oddly feminine for such a rough individual.”

The image of a feminine hand fondling a gold cross flitted across Tess’s mind, but it was gone before
she could identify the source.

“So why did Desmond and Noah become friends?” Tess wondered. “Noah sounds like a loner.”

“Noah and Desmond became friends because of Beatrice Cabrera,” answered Dreux.

“How does Bea
Cabrera come into the picture?” asked a startled Tess.

“It’s an interesting story and an appropriate finish to our little
jaunt down memory lane, I think,” smiled the old lawyer.

“I had very little interaction with Bea Cabrera back then,” Dreux continued. “She came from a wealthy family and was a high-society type
, the kind named queen of a Carnival krewe year after year in her youth. But by the time I met her, she was in her mid-30s, and I found her an unappealing ice queen. To be fair, unhappiness probably was a factor. She was caring for an only son with severe birth defects. I never saw the boy, but I heard he was profoundly retarded. Anyway, back in 1951, Bea held a ‘Sweet 16’ birthday party for her sister’s daughter at her big mansion in Mandeville. It was like a debutante ball, with the girls flitting around in gauzy gowns and young men like me miserable in formal wear—although at least we got some use from those hateful cotillion classes. Guy and Desmond were invited as safely suitable dance partners for the young ladies. At Desmond’s urging, I had been added to the guest list. I remember Lillian Vanderveld was there, too, making eyes at Guy and Desmond by turns. I think she thought that she could make them compete against each other for her favors, which was ludicrous,” added the old man with a contemptuous curl of his lip.

“As I said, no love lost between Lillian and Phil.”

“The real trouble started when Desmond brought Noah Cabirac along, uninvited, of course,” Dreux narrated. “I think Desmond did it as a sort of prank. He loaned Noah formal wear, and Noah looked gorgeous. It was like putting a tiger in among the gazelles. All the little virgins were in a tizzy over the allure of the beautiful bad boy, and Bea sniffed danger. She came sailing up to Desmond and demanded to be introduced. Desmond presented Noah Cabirac, who mumbled something, and Bea went livid. She told Desmond point blank to escort his uninvited guest from the premises. Desmond refused. Bea then ordered Guy to take care of the situation.

“
Noah was dancing with one of the girls when dutiful Guy yanked Noah’s arm and made an insulting remark to him. Desmond intervened in Noah’s defense, and all three began to tussle right in the middle of the dance floor. Bea came charging up and tried to insert herself between Guy and Desmond, and ended up pushed into Noah, who instinctively grabbed her in his arms. Noah’s shirt had been torn open in the fight, and there was his manly chest with that sweaty gold cross right in front of Bea’s nose. She fainted like an antebellum lady. Well, that ended the evening for Desmond and Noah—and cemented their friendship,” concluded Dreux.

“It also made Noah an enemy of my grandfather,” added Tess. “It doesn’t sound as if N
oah was the type to forgive Guy’s insults.”