Rebel Without a Cake (22 page)

Nettie Laroche lived in a small yellow house set back from the road behind a yard full of weeds and wild grass. If there had ever been a lawn, it had disappeared a while ago.

“This may take a few minutes,” Kale warned. “Come on inside so you don't have to wait in the heat.”

I didn't want to move, but I wasn't in the mood to bake either so I followed him up an uneven sidewalk to the back door. We stepped into a tiny kitchen with cluttered counters and dirty dishes strewn over the table. I thought there might be chairs around the table, but it was hard to be sure. All I could really see were empty plastic bags and stacks of paper. A small window unit blew cool air into the room, and I could hear a television playing somewhere in another part of the house. The scents of sausage and old coffee hung heavily in the air.

Kale wiped his feet on a mat and I followed his example. “Ma?” he shouted. “We got a visitor.”

The television went silent and Nettie appeared in the doorway wearing a curious expression. She'd changed out of her jeans and T-shirt into a faded floral muumuu and a pair of pink fuzzy slippers, and she carried what looked like a whiskey and soda in her hand. She waved the glass in my direction. “I know you. Weren't you in the Pit earlier?”

“I was. My name's Rita Lucero.”

“You were talking to Georgie.”

“I was,” I said again. “She needed a statement from me.”

Nettie's eyes narrowed. “What kind of statement?”

“She's staying with the Percifields,” Kale explained to his mother. “She's the one who found Silas.”

I watched Nettie's reaction to the mention of her late husband's name, but her face gave nothing away. “Okay,” she said slowly. “What are you doing with Kale?”

That was a perfectly legitimate question. I'd have wondered the same thing in her place. “I had an accident out there . . . somewhere. Your son was good enough to rescue me.”

“I'm taking her to Miss Margaret's,” Kale said as he clomped through the kitchen and looked inside the fridge. “I've got that paint you wanted in the back of the truck. Where do you want me to put it?”

Nettie leaned against the door frame and smiled at her son. “In the garage. I won't need it today.”

Kale turned away from the fridge and filled a glass with water from the sink. My mouth was dry and my chest still hurt from breathing the air bag smoke. I willed him to offer me a glass, but apparently the domestic variety of Southern hospitality wasn't his thing.

“I hear you and Junior were talking about me today,” he said to Nettie when he'd emptied the glass.

Her expression sobered. “Where'd you hear that?”

I thought the answer to that question was obvious, but there
had
been other people in the bar, so maybe she wouldn't know it had come from me. Just in case, I kept my mouth shut and tried not to look guilty.

Kale put the glass next to the sink and leaned against the counter. “What does it matter? What did he want? The usual?”

“Of course. It's always the same old thing.” Nettie let out a heavy sigh and her shoulders sagged. “Why are you being so stubborn? He only wants to make sure you have what's rightfully yours.”

“Yeah. I'm sure that's why he's doing it.” Kale rummaged in a cupboard near his head and found a box of crackers. He shook a few into his hand and dropped them one by one from his fist into his mouth. “Junior's all about the other guy.”

“You're not the ‘other guy,'” Nettie said with a scowl. “You're his nephew.”

“Whatever.” Kale shoved another handful of crackers into his mouth.

I was uncomfortable listening to their conversation, but it wasn't as if I was eavesdropping, so I tried not to feel guilty.

“Look,” Nettie said, “I know Junior and I have had our arguments, but at least he cares. That's more than Silas ever did.”

Pain flashed across Kale's face.

His mother didn't seem to notice. “All I'm asking is that you try the job. If Junior pushes too hard or asks you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, then quit.”

I wondered what kinds of things might fall into that category but I didn't ask. Mostly because I didn't want them to get nervous and stop talking. But also because my head was pounding and my face felt hot.

“I already don't like what he's doing,” Kale told her. “And it's not like he wants me around. He just thinks I'm the best way to get to you.”

Nettie did the same deer-in-the-headlights thing she'd done when Junior caressed her cheek at the Gator Pit. “That's crazy talk,” she said when she'd gathered her wits.

I stopped dwelling on my throbbing head so I could use my energy to file away details of their conversation. All at once Kale seemed to remember I was there and held out the box to me. “Crackers?”

I was almost hungry enough to accept his offer, but I managed to resist. “No. Thanks. I'd appreciate some water, though. And if you have a phone, I'd like to make a call. It's long-distance, but I'll pay the charges. And if you know the number of a local towing service, I need to arrange for someone to pick up my car.”

“Oh Lord. Where are my manners?” Nettie brushed past her son and fixed me some ice water. Kale went outside, probably to put the paint in the garage, and she handed me the glass with a smile and an apology. “Phone's in there,” she said, nodding toward the living room. “Help yourself. There's no towing service out here, but Kale can help you get the car back to town. No need to pay for the calls.”

When she left me alone, I dialed Sullivan's cell number but the call went straight to voice mail. Strike one. I left a brief message explaining that I needed a ride from Baie Rebelle to New Orleans and told him I'd call again when I had the chance. I repeated the process, this time with Gabriel's cell. He didn't answer either, so I left the same message for him.

I briefly considered calling Zydeco, but I didn't want to ask Ox for help. I shoved that idea on the “last resort” shelf in my head and slipped a ten under the phone just in case Nettie didn't make a fortune at the Gator Pit and her phone plan didn't include unlimited long-distance.

Kale had returned to the kitchen by the time I was finished, and the two of them were talking quietly when I rejoined them.

“Sorry to talk about family stuff in front of you,” Nettie said. “This kid of mine doesn't know a good thing when he sees it. He makes me crazy sometimes.”

I don't like to weigh in on other people's problems, but since she'd pulled me into the conversation . . . “You think that his uncle's offer is a good one but Kale doesn't agree with you?”

She brushed some magazines and empty plastic bags from a chair and offered me a seat. “You don't know Junior, but he's a hard man. Tough. Unbending. And he's been worse than usual lately, so I understand why Kale doesn't want to work with him.” She glanced at her son and went on. “But half of what Junior has belongs to Kale by rights. It's not Kale's fault his idiot daddy threw it all away. I know Junior will do right by Kale, but Kale's gotta give a little, too. He's gotta cooperate with Junior.”

Kale's face turned to stone. “I'm not going to hang around hoping that someday he'll take pity on me. The land's his. The money's his. Just let it go, Ma. I'll make it on my own.”

“You don't
have
to make it on your own,” she said. “That's the point. I can bring Junior around. I just need time.” She sighed with resignation and shook her head. “We'll talk about this later. We've got company.”

“Yeah, and we're leaving.” Kale opened the door and looked back at me. “You ready?”

Did I have a choice? I gulped down the rest of my water and followed him out to the truck. My head was still spinning from the wreck, and I felt more confused than ever. I couldn't see any reason for Nettie or Kale to have wanted Silas dead. It seemed far more likely that if one of them had been wandering around with an extra toilet tank lid and nothing to do on a Saturday night, they'd have paid Junior a visit. And yet Silas was the one lying in the morgue.

Factoring in what Kale had told me about Silas having a still, the only person with a solid reason for wanting Silas dead was the person whose name I wanted to clear. Poor Bernice. Poor Aunt Margaret. They wanted so badly for Eskil to be innocent, but it was looking less likely all the time.

Kale didn't say anything as we trudged back to the truck and I didn't pressure him to. Questions were zipping in and out of my head, but I'd already asked a lot and I didn't want to spook him. If I came on too strong, he might shut me out completely.

I listened to the hum of tires on the pavement and watched greenery turn into a blur as we sped along the road. And I realized that in this maze of trees and swamp, I had no idea where Silas Laroche had lived. Was it near Aunt Margaret's house? Was that why his killer had chosen to dump his body there? But why move the body in the first place? Why not just leave it where it fell?

Sullivan's theory that the killer wanted the body found was the only thing that made sense, but why? I stewed on that question for a while but I couldn't come up with an answer. I needed to know more about Silas before I could understand what had happened to him.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Georgie and the sheriff's department to do the job right. I kept thinking about Bernice and remembering the look on Aunt Margaret's face when she'd asked for my help. Which was why I finally broke the silence. “Out of curiosity, where did Silas live?”

Kale looked startled by the sound of my voice. “Down this road a bit.”

“Close to the Percifields' place?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I guess. It's about ten miles on past Miss Margaret's house.”

“So if you were going to Silas's house, you'd have to drive past Aunt Margaret's to get there? Is there any other way to get to and from Baie Rebelle?”

“Not by car. You could get there and back on the water, though. You can get anywhere on the water.”

Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. “How many houses are there between the Percifields' and Silas's?”

“None,” Kale said. “Why? What are you thinking?” Far from being put off by my questions, Kale seemed intrigued.

“I'm just wondering how easy it would be for someone to get to Silas's place without being noticed.”

“Easy enough,” Kale said. “You've seen how far back Miss Margaret's house is from the road. It's surrounded by trees. They might hear a car driving past but they probably wouldn't see it.”

Which meant that although Eskil had (relatively) easy access to Silas's property, he wasn't alone. Almost anyone could have gone there and back without being seen. And that brought me right back to the question that seemed to have no logical answer: If Eskil had killed Silas, why would he cart the body home and dump it in his own ditch? It simply didn't make sense, and that was the only thing that kept me hoping the police would eventually be able to clear him.

We were drawing close to Aunt Margaret's house by that time and Kale surprised me by asking, “You want to see it?”

“See . . . what?”

“The old man's place. You want me to show you?”

Seriously? I'd have preferred to wait until I felt better, but I might not get another chance. “Why not?” I said, hoping I didn't seem too eager. It was a long shot, but maybe we'd come across something important. Something the sheriff's department had missed when they went over the crime scene. Even if we didn't, at least I'd know that I'd done my best to help Bernice's family.

Kale talked about the country as he drove, telling me about how life used to be in the swamp before the oil companies moved in and the Army Corps of Engineers began draining swampland and diverting the water. He was probably too young to have known the old ways personally, but obviously someone had educated him.

He pointed out things of interest, naming trees and types of birds in case I was curious. I wasn't really. I forgot most of what he said as soon as he said it, but I was surprised by the variety. If someone was interested in living off the land, the swamp seemed to be the right place for it.

“And over there?” Kale said as we crested a small hill. “See? Between the trees? That's Junior's property. That's where he's planning to build his new and improved charter company.”

I leaned up to get a better look. I saw a broad expanse of water rimmed by cypress on one side and choked with lilies on the other. The one thing I didn't see was land. “It's water,” I said in case Kale hadn't noticed.

“It's swamp. My grandpa bought it years ago. Junior's planning to drain it and build.”

That surprised me. “Can he do that?”

“There's some red tape to jump through, but yeah. He's been working on it for a few years now. He wants me in on it with him, but I don't like the idea. We're already losing something like twenty miles of swamp every year. We don't need to get rid of more.”

I frowned thoughtfully. Okay, so I'm not a fan of the swamp, but it seemed like a big mistake to drain it and turn it into just another business district. “How soon will he start working on it?”

“I'm not sure. He was going great guns for a while, but about a month ago he slowed down. Maybe he's looking for money or something.”

I glanced out over the water again and mumbled, “If that's the case, I hope he doesn't find it.”

Kale shot an odd look at me and a slow smile curved his lips. “Yeah? Well, don't say that to him.”

I laughed and pretended to zip my mouth shut. I wasn't sure what to make of Junior but I had no intention of antagonizing him.

We reached our destination a few minutes later. Access to Silas's house was by way of a trail just wide enough for a single vehicle. A double track had been matted down by tires over time, but the wild grass growing between the tracks made it clear that this path wasn't used often. At the end of the trail, a wooden shack leaned to one side and a ramshackle outhouse sat in tall grass behind it.

Junk dotted every inch of the clearing. Rusty farm implements, old tires, and spare wheels shared space with broken furniture, at least three toilets (I wondered if one had a missing lid), and a couple of stoves. A few monarch butterflies fluttered around the refuse, a touch of elegance and grace amid the clutter.

“Is this it?” I asked, sweeping my gaze across a porch heaped with refuse. “He lived here?”

Kale nodded. “Sad, huh?”

“For a man who didn't believe in owning anything, he sure had a lot of stuff.”

“He didn't believe in owning anything God made,” Kale corrected me. “At least that's what Ma told me. Like I said, I never actually talked to him except to tell him to leave me alone.”

“Well, your mom should know.”

Kale stopped in front of the shack and we both got out of the truck. “There's no crime scene tape,” I said. “I guess that means the sheriff's department is finished out here.”

Kale hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and looked around for a moment. “Yeah. I guess. Where do you think it happened?”

“I don't know, but Georgie said something about a stream. My first guess would be by the toilet closest to the water.” I let him think about that for a moment. In spite of his brave claims that he felt nothing for his father, I knew he must feel something.

He toed the ground and made a face. “Bunch of worthless junk.”

“One man's trash is another man's treasure,” I said. “Why did he have the toilets if he didn't even have indoor plumbing?”

“How would I know?” Kale said. “He didn't talk to me for twenty years. I can't tell you why he did anything.”

I stared around the clearing for a while. “You're sure he didn't give you any indication about why he wanted to talk to you? None at all?”

Kale shook his head. “He just said that he had something important to tell me. I was so pissed I wouldn't let him say anything else.”

That was too bad. I had a feeling Silas might have been able to provide a few clues to his final days on earth. “Did he have any friends? Is there anybody who might know what he wanted to tell you?”

Kale's laughter bounced around the clearing. “No ma'am. Not that I know of anyway. Silas screwed everybody over at one time or another.”

We fell silent for a moment and the sounds of frogs, lizards, and insects filled the air. A deep roar somewhere in the distance made me shudder. Even the insects stopped buzzing. It must have been an alligator, but it was easy to see how tales of mystical creatures like the rougarou got started.

“So who inherits all this?” I asked. “Is this your problem now?”

Kale snorted. “I don't want it. It's probably Ma's anyway.”

“She's his widow now, so you might be right about that. He didn't own the land, did he?”

“Nope. This land belongs to the Dudley family.”

That brought my head up fast. “Bernice's family?”

“I guess so. Those her husband's people? I don't know which one of 'em owns it legal, but they let Silas stay. I guess it was easier than trying to run him off.” Kale brushed something from his shoulder. “You want to look inside the house?”

The idea of stepping into that ratty-looking shack made me shrink back. The whole place gave me the heebie-jeebies. I imagined all kinds of creepy-crawly things inside. Maybe there was also evidence in there, but somebody else would have to find it.

“No. I—I . . . no. I'm sure the sheriff has checked it out thoroughly. Have you ever been inside?”

Kale shook his head. “I told you, I've never been here before.” He was visiting his father's house for the first time ever, and here I was turning up my nose.

I felt like a jerk. “Do you want to look inside?”

“Nope.”

“You aren't curious about it?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little? Or did you sneak out here to see it for yourself when you thought you wouldn't get caught? Because I would have.”

Kale ran a hand across his face. “Never. I was afraid of him, okay? He had a temper. A bad one. All my life I heard horror stories about the things he'd done and what kind of man he was. Everybody in town hated him. His own brother hated him, and I was scared spitless that I'd turn out just like him. So I thought that if I could stay far enough away from him, he wouldn't rub off on me.”

His candid answer surprised me, but I was glad he was finally releasing some emotion. “And your mother? Did she hate him, too?”

“What do you think? He walked out on her. She had a hard life without him.”

I glanced around and pointed out, “I think she might have had a harder life if he'd stayed.”

Kale heaved a sigh and his head drooped. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Why
did
she stay married to him, Kale? Most women would have cut their losses under those circumstances.”

“She doesn't believe in divorce, I guess. And she wanted to make sure the family treated me right. Around here, family's important. Real important. But the Laroches aren't like most people. Except for Silas, things are more important to them than people. Junior has always been around when we needed something, but he only did it so he'd look good to his old daddy.”

It was warm in the clearing. A trickle of sweat snaked down my back, encouraging me to cut the visit short. “This would be the daddy who cut Silas out of his will? Why would he care how Junior treated you?”

“He cut Silas out of his will because Silas threw away everything the old man worked for. I was okay with him because I didn't. That's all there is to it.”

I wasn't so sure, but I only had gut instinct to go on. I dropped the subject and jerked my chin toward the garbage dump in front of us. “Do you want to go look out there?”

“Not really.”

“Would you mind waiting for a minute while I do?”

Kale shook his head. “Go for it. Just watch out for snakes.”

“Snakes?” I shuddered and froze mid-step. “What kind of snakes? Poisonous ones?”

“Some.”

“Change of plans,” I announced, and turned toward the truck instead. “Another time maybe.”

Kale chuckled and walked past me toward the truck. I followed more slowly, checking the ground for anything that slithered. Just a few feet from the truck my reconnaissance turned up results in the form of a tube of lip gloss pressed into the sandy mud. I might not have given it a second thought but it looked new. Plus, I was pretty sure it hadn't belonged to Silas.

I picked it up and gave it a once-over. Cherry flavored. Interesting. I slipped the tube into my pocket, hoping Kale hadn't noticed. I didn't think it was his either. He didn't seem like the cherry lip gloss type. I wanted to make sure it didn't belong to Georgie before I let myself jump to conclusions, but despite Kale's claims that everyone had hated Silas, I was convinced a woman had been here recently.

I could think of only two possibilities: Nettie or Adele. Now I wondered whether the mystery woman had been here before, during, or after Silas's murder.