Lies Agreed Upon (50 page)

“What’s on the other side of the cinder-block wall at the back of this
part of the gardens?” asked Trevor.

“Oh, that wall blocks the view of my new neighbor, DiPaolo Machine Works. Luckily, the buildings are far enough away that the industrial noise and truck tr
affic don’t really disturb us. I was looking to sell the land outside the gardens, and their trucks passed by every day serving neighboring clients, so I figured they might want to move here. And they did! Of course, I thought they’d never finish construction,” grimaced Tess. “Sometimes, I wondered if I’d rather have Gulf Coast Refining on the other side of that wall.”

“
One of the weirdest of the many trippy things about Dreux,” commented Christina, “was finding out that Gulf Coast Refining had never intended to purchase your property! They had no idea Dreux was negotiating with you. It was just bizarre.”

“It’s easy to see how i
t got started,” answered Tess. “It was my mother who first contacted Dreux regarding a desire to sell the property, remember. She wasn’t serious about selling. She wanted to lure him to California to confront him over Desmond’s death. Dreux wasn’t serious about buying, either. He needed an excuse to come see my mom and make sure the sleeping dog wasn’t getting ready to bark. He had blackmailed them into silence for 50 years—but my grandmother’s death had broken his hold.”

“No one paid a lot of attention to what the old man was doing,” added Jen. “While Tess was laid up with a dented skull, Tony and I approached the remaining partners, Graham and Odom, regarding completion of the deal with Gulf Coast Refining. Dreux had never involved his partners. They were pretty red-faced when they came back and told us Gulf Coast Refining had no clue what old Phil was up to.”

“So I get why he used the property deal as a pretense to scope out Tess’s mom, but why continue the fiction?” asked Rob.

Tess shrugged. “My mother was no longer a threat to him, but he had to be worried about what I might have learned from her or from her files, the ones he didn’t find when he searched after she died. So he resurrected the property purchase story to come meet me and a
scertain my level of knowledge. He must have been thrilled when he realized that my mother and grandmother had kept me in the dark about their past. He quickly positioned himself as my sole contact and information source about my inheritance and my family. He focused my attention on the romance of my distant ancestors, and assumed he would remain my main New Orleans contact even if I began to explore more recent family history. He pushed me to dig around in my mom’s papers—since he couldn’t—to make sure that if anything suspicious did turn up, I would turn to him, and he would have the chance to explain it away.

“
He was sexist enough to assume he could easily manipulate a gullible ‘girl,’ and racist enough to discount Sam Beauvoir’s input. When I began to realize the truth and didn’t accept his explanations, he moved to eliminate the threat.”

“What threat? It doesn’t sound like there was evidence of crimes,” commented Rob, a
dhering to a journalistic focus on facts.

“I’ve tho
ught about that,” nodded Tess. “For Phil Dreux, his social position and the persona he had created were vital. In his world, he was a respected professional man and a benevolent member of the traditional social elite. Forget about criminal charges. He didn’t want anyone to see him as an amoral social climber!  He didn’t expect me to befriend wealthy Garden District socialites like Mimi and Lillian. He didn’t expect that black Sam Beauvoir would create a connection for me with legal eagles like Jon and Tony. Once I had the ears of influential local people, I could tarnish his precious reputation. He feared conviction in the court of public opinion more than conviction in a court of law. And what if I pulled him out of the closet? Modern society is more open-minded, but Dreux wasn’t modern. He couldn’t bear to be sexually ‘outed.’”

“What do you think he planned to do if you wanted to complete sale of the property?” asked Rob.

“That’s easy to guess,” asserted Jen. “He could regretfully inform Tess that Gulf Coast Refining’s management had a change of plans. Since he had positioned himself as the only intermediary with the company, Tess would have gone off looking for another buyer, none the wiser.”

“But why involve Remy Thivet as Noah’s heir?” asked Trevor with a puzzled frown.

“Well, Remy unknowingly acted as a spy for Dreux, didn’t he? He kept track of my family research and shared information with Dreux as a legal ally,” noted Tess. “Dreux may have counted on a squabble among heirs to delay decisions and distract me while he made sure he had covered his tracks. But at some level, I also think he wanted to avenge Desmond by miring the Cabrera inheritance in a legal scandal.”

“At least you and Remy both came out O
K,” said Katie, putting a comforting hand on Tess’s arm.

Tess
nodded and smiled at the group. “We’re more than OK.”

“
Wait. There’s one loose end that bugs me. What about your grandfather’s murderer?” probed Rob. “It’s pretty obvious that the Alonzo Love who inherited Dreux’s New Orleans house is likely the Alonzo Lamour contracted by Dreux to kill your grandfather. Why didn’t you tip off the police?”

“I’m afraid my head injury slowed me up enough to let Alonzo Love
, or Lamour, escape,” answered Tess with a sigh. “By the time I heard about him, he’d sold Dreux’s house and collected his money. I pressed cold-case detectives to track him down in Florida, but he’d vanished again. He’s probably in another state under a new name, like Al Amor or something. Justice delayed was truly justice denied. But, enough of the past, let me show you the rest of the restaurant.”

She smiled and motioned the group to follow her into the restaurant.
They trooped back inside and began to follow the wainscot of tile work, making a slow circuit to view the old black-and-white photographs that had been framed and hung on the arches above the colorful border.

“Hey, isn’t this a photograph you saw with Gloria Donovan?” exclaimed Katie after inspecting a picture.

Tess nodded. “Gloria left all her precious photos and papers to Charmaine Rogers, her caregiver, and Charmaine gave them to me. I found lots of pictures of the old Alhambra estate and my relatives, even ones that Gloria never showed me. I’ve brought together all the family members who once walked in this garden: my grandfather Guy and my grandmother Emily; Elaine Donovan and her children Daniel and Gloria; Armand Cabrera and his sons Michael, Alan and Roman; Benjamin Cabrera; Louis Cabrera and his doomed bride Marie, and even Thérèse. For instance, here’s Thérèse Cabrera in this garden in 1912. Gloria hated her, so I was shocked the photo survived. But I think Gloria considered her family history to be Holy Writ, so burning Grammaw Thérèse’s photo would be like setting fire to Genesis to spite the serpent.”

The group paused to study the faded portrait of the woman for whom Tess was named. She was petite
and dressed in a high-collared shirtwaist with a slim ankle-length skirt and fitted jacket. A deep-crowned hat was perched on softly upswept silver hair. Despite age, traces of elegant beauty remained.

“There’s something about her that reminds me of you,” commented Christina. “Except that she has an olive complexion, and her lips are fuller, and her nose is longer.”

Tess laughed. “So the resemblance is where?”

“I think it’s the eyes,”
said Katie. “She had green eyes like yours.”

Tess exchanged a look with old Thérèse. “
We share some traits. We’re both tougher than we look, for instance.”

The group curiously browsed the old photographs until Tess specifically directed their a
ttention to a photograph of Dad Donovan, his wife Cee, and Bea Cabrera all standing in the courtyard of the old townhouse. The griffin fountain could be seen clearly in the background. A few steps away from the fountain stood Tess’s adult mother with her arm extended out tautly to pull a small child into the photographic pose. The child’s features were recognizably Tess’s.

“I found it in one of Gloria’s albums.
I remember the visit to their bayou house vividly, but I seem to have erased the townhouse except for a vague sense of déjà vu when I saw the courtyard again,” said Tess, studying her escaping child-self pensively.

They moved to a display of Civil War memorabilia, including mounted Confederate ca
valry sabers and pistols, an officer’s brass CSA belt buckle, service medals, and a monogrammed silver pocket watch with a slightly damaged fob. A plaque identified the owner as Benjamin Cabrera, oldest son of Antonio Cabrera.

“Jon Beauvoir snagged the sabers
and pistols from Dreux’s townhouse auction to boost historic ambiance and tourist appeal,” explained Tess. “The rest came to me via Gloria Donovan, tucked in an old paper bag!”

“How did Gloria get her hands on Ben’s stuff?” asked Jen. “I thought the Donovan and Cabrera branches of the family were not close.”

“Well, I had to solve a murder mystery to figure that out, and I’ll explain later,” smiled Tess to groans of frustration. “Patience, guys,” she laughed.

“Well what about the mystery of Ben’s paternity? Can you at least solve that
now?” prodded Christina.

“Sorry, the only one who might have known was Solange, and she kept her mouth shut
—beyond whatever she may have told Ben,” answered Tess. “You can imagine the possibilities. Josephine did business in a man’s world before Antonio restricted her. Ben’s father could have been a merchant, a banker, a riverboat captain, you name it. The most scandalous scenario would be that Josephine kept a lover at home, right under Antonio’s nose—say a handsome slave tending her beloved horses, which would have really horrified Ben!

“But
maybe we shouldn’t look so far outside the characters we already know. I’ve really begun to suspect Antonio’s dear friend Paul Arnoult, for example,” Tess continued with a musing look at the mounted cavalry sabers. “It would really fit neatly. Josephine’s dislike could have been feigned to divert suspicion. Paul’s initial opposition to Antonio’s romance with Josephine could have had a more personal cause, and Josephine’s hiring of Solange could be seen as a favor to her lover. And imagine Ben’s position if Antonio, his father in name, had fallen in love with the daughter of Paul, his real father! Then, when Ben passed his inheritance on to Paul’s daughter Thérèse and her children, it would mean that he had insured that his real father’s descendants inherited as well as Antonio’s. Anyway, we’ll probably never learn the truth. Let me show you some family history that I do know for certain.”

Tess
motioned the group to the next photo. It was a recent color portrait of Sam Beauvoir. Despite his age, the green eyes were piercing and lucent.

The legend underneath
read:

The current owners of the Gardens of Eden Restaurant are descendants of a common ancestor: Solange Beauvoir, a “femme de couleur libre,” or free woman of color. She was the unacknowledged mother of Thérèse Cabrera, who created this garden, which has been inherited by the last Cabrera heir, Therese Parnell. Solange Beauvoir was also the grandmother of Samuel Beauvoir (pictured above). Samuel Beauvoir was a successful New Orleans restaurateur, owner of the Beauvoir Oyster Bar and Restaurant on Canal Street. But from 1959 through his death in 2010, he also was responsible for maintaining and enhancing these gardens. Their current beauty is due to his loving stewardship. His son Lyle is now a co-owner of the restaurant with Therese Parnell.

“Lucky no old Cabrera racists are around to burn down that family tree,” grinned Christina.

Tess nodded wordlessly. “I
t’s part of what I promised Sam—that this place would be seen as a Beauvoir garden as much as a Cabrera garden, and that Solange would get her due. I even put the correct family tree on the next column, including the Beauvoir and Cabirac branches along with the Cabreras and Donovans. And right next to it, I put the last pictures.” She gestured toward paired colored photographs of herself and Lyle Beauvoir. The legend below read:  “Therese Parnell and Lyle Beauvoir are co-owners of the Gardens of Eden Restaurant.”

“That
’s another thing I promised Sam—that the Beauvoirs would have a chance to own a piece of this place. Lyle was happy to buy in. Let’s go upstairs now,” suggested Tess and motioned for her friends to follow her up the steps.

At the top
of the stairs, Tess stopped and pointed at a gilt-framed oil painting. “Do you recognize it?” she asked with a smile.

“It’s Josephine!” gasped Katie and Christina in unison.

“And Solange Beauvoir, who is more significant to this location’s history. When I completed the restaurant, Lillian offered the painting to me,” explained Tess. “There are a couple of other gifts of note, also from Lillian. She gave me Josephine’s writing desk, the match to the one in Dreux’s house. The waiters tend to balance trays on it, so Lyle topped it with a statue of St. Expedite from Sam Beauvoir’s old Tremé home to discourage them. It’s not the first time quick-fix St. Expedite has popped up in my New Orleans adventures,” chuckled Tess, and reddened as she recalled her tryst with Joel Milliken beneath the stained-glass saint.

She added quickly, “Lillian also donated Antonio’s love letters, so I framed one. Antonio doesn’t have a portrait, so I’m honoring his romantic soul instead.”