Sweet Mystery (13 page)

“Goodbye,” he whispered. “See you about
three. We’ll go for a ride in my boat and then have an early
supper. I have to work.”

“On a Saturday?” Rae nuzzled his neck. “What
a workaholic.”

“I promised to get some figures together for
Darcy. But it won’t take long.” Simon gave her a peck on the
forehead.

The mention of Darcy was like a cold shower.
A sharp, hard intention formed in her chest. She was such a fool to
forget who he was, simply because of a kiss. Rae pretended her mood
had not changed and smiled. “Then I’ll see you at three.”

When he was gone, she made herself a cup of
strong tea and sat at the kitchen table, rubbing the old wounds
raw. Simon St. Cyr was an attractive package to be sure. He was
good, no doubt about that. Did he really think she was so gullible
that his kiss would be enough to fool her? For all she knew, he
could be with Toya right now, laughing at her.

Rae decided she would show him that she was
no weak female, to be seduced and trampled. Let him think he is in
control. She would enjoy him, no need to deny that. Yet she would
also exact some kind of revenge on them all.

Chapter 7

“They disappeared in 1963?” LaMar let out a
long, low whistle. “Talk about a cold trail.”

LaMar Zeno, private investigator, was dressed
more like an accountant on his day off. He wore a light blue
short-sleeve shirt with button-down collars, tucked into cotton
chino pants the color of cement. His sunglasses had a square, metal
frame.

Rae had imagined a very different picture of
him, based on his outrageous reputation. Maybe this is his
identical twin?

“Everybody assumed Pawpaw Vincent did it. But
Daddy never believed what they said,” Rae put in quickly. She was
afraid this conservative-looking, young man would refuse such an
unusual case. “It’s really just a missing person kind of
investigation.”

“Yeah, but the persons ran off over fifty
years ago, and maybe don’t want to be found,” LaMar replied.

Rae’s spirits sank. “So it’s hopeless?”

“Depends.” LaMar rubbed his chin. He got up
to pace the length of Rae’s front porch. “Like how well they
covered their tracks or where they went. In the forties and fifties
a lot of black folks headed to California, Chicago or Detroit.”

“I don’t know about that.” Rae could not see
a Dalcour choosing a big city. Lucien had always talked about how
Pawpaw Vincent loved bayou country. “A Creole from south Louisiana
living in a cold place like Chicago or Detroit? Sounds iffy to me,”
she replied.

“Good point. But, on the other hand, he might
make a sacrifice to keep from being found. Nah, you’re probably
right.”

Rae looked up in surprise. “You think?”

“People are creatures of habit. He was a
fisherman and worked outdoors, you say. At shipyards...”

“And anything else he could find. He loved
working with his hands, Tante Ina says.”

“So I have a few places to start.” LaMar sat
down on the cane rocker next to Rae. “You should know that finding
folks doesn’t always lead to a happy reunion. He could be dead or
not be happy at being found. Or he–”

“Might have done exactly what they say he
did, and be shacked up with another man’s wife. I know.”

Rae also knew that it would hurt her much
less than it would have hurt Lucien. But what about Tante Ina and
Daddy’s two surviving brothers? Right now the Joves and all the
rest of Belle Rose only had accusations. Rae thought it would be
ironic if she helped to confirm that her own grandfather had
cheated his friends and the entire town after all.

LaMar read the concern in her silence. “It’s
your call, ma’am,” he spoke in a quiet voice.

Rae thought of Lucien, his nut-brown face
twisted in pain on the day he made her promise. Find the truth,
he’d said, no matter what that truth turned out to be. If he could
face Belle Rose all these years, then so could she.

Rae made her decision. “Where do we
start?”

LaMar questioned her for only another thirty
minutes, since Rae did not know much about her grandfather, except
for old stories from Lucien. He spent two hours in the attic,
pouring over old photos and papers. When he came down, he was
carrying an old, accordion folder.

He opened it to show Rae some old bills and
other papers. “Is it okay if I take these with me?”

Rae shrugged. “Sure. Don’t know why Daddy
held onto all that old stuff.”

“Good thing he did. I’ll get a good picture
of Mr. Vincent from this. But I would like to interview some other
relatives. You say his older sister lives around here?”

“Tante Ina, a feisty, sixty-four-year-old who
lives on Chauvin Road. Let me talk to her; then I’ll give you a
call.” Rae wondered how she would react.

“It would help to find out about Estelle
Jove, too. Do you know any of her family?” LaMar opened his
notepad.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Rae said. She
shook her head. “Her husband would freak if you approached him.
He’s still bitter. But Tante Ina might be able to help you track
down other relatives. They may be willing to talk to you.”

“Okay. In the meantime, I can check out a few
things.” LaMar gazed at her. “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive. I just hope you can find out what
happened.”

“I’ll check in with you at least once a week,
whether there’s progress or not,” LaMar added, before leaving.

Rae glanced down at the old pictures spread
on the coffee table. Pawpaw Vincent was smiling in most of them; a
good-looking man. But what was behind the smile? The pictures did
not show the true man, much as the conflicting stories left a
confused account of who he had been.

She picked up a black and white photo with
‘August, nineteen forty-eight” written on it in faded ink. Pawpaw
Vincent stood with his two best friends, Henry Jove and Joseph St.
Cyr. The men looked barely out of their teens. They stared into the
camera looking young, strong and hopeful. It was like staring into
a time machine.

Rae separated this picture from the others.
Somehow she sensed that the key was in what had happened between
those three men.

* * *

“I vote no.” Andrew took a gulp from his
bottle of crème soda. “Of course, with that kinda money, we could
live high. Yeah.” He grinned.

“Big surprise.” Neville gave a grunt of
disgust at his younger brother’s attitude. “You might think of
saving something for the first time in your life, man.”

Andrew squinted at him. “For what? So you can
have a real nice funeral? Uh-uh, I wanna have some fun while I’m
alive and young enough to enjoy it.”

“You can enjoy life without throwing all your
money down the drain.” Neville opened his mouth to launch into
another lecture on thrift.

“Will you two stop,” Rae cut in. “You’ve been
fussing like this for as long as I can remember. We’re supposed to
be talking about this deal we’ve been offered.”

The siblings were sat around the kitchen
table, talking over coffee on a Saturday morning. Rae studied her
brothers – two different sides of the same Dalcour coin. Neville
and Andrew shared their father’s rugged good looks and dark
nut-brown skin, yet their outlooks were in sharp contrast.

“I don’t know.” Neville combed his fingers
through his thick, black hair. “Somehow it doesn’t seem right, a
St. Cyr having this land.”

Rae threw up her hands. “Neville, you were
ready to ditch the whole thing no matter who got it. Now what’s up
with you?”

“I wasn’t crazy ‘bout the idea when you first
brought it up to me,” Andrew threw in.

“Look, we’ll be keeping at least five, maybe
as much as seven acres. And the house.” Rae tapped a finger on the
table. “Simon says we could even add in that we’ll be given first
shot at buying back the land if he ever wants to sell.”

Andrew turned to his big brother. “She’s been
runnin’ ‘round with this St. Cyr guy.”

Neville gave Rae a look of reproach. “Say
what? Just got home and all ready jumping into trouble with both
feet, girl.”

“I’m grown. I do what I please with whom I
please, thank you.” Rae glared at Neville, then Andrew. “And that
doesn’t have anything to do with this deal, which he made before we
started ‘runnin’ ‘round’ as you put it, Andrew.”

“Yeah, so he can get his hands on our
property,” Andrew muttered. “Now you all hot to get cozy with
‘em.”

“Andy, don’t make me say something nasty,”
Rae warned. She took a deep breath. “Listen, Simon approached Daddy
before he died.”

“And Daddy said ‘hell no,’” Andrew said.

“He did,” Rae put in, “but I talked to him
about six months later when he was really sick. He said I should do
what I had to do. Daddy knew it would take money to fix up the
dance hall and find Pawpaw Vincent.”

“And that’s another thing, digging up more
trouble by looking into what is best let alone.” Neville shook his
head. “I know you wanna keep your promise to Daddy. But this ain’t
the way, cher.”

“Then what do you suggest, Neville? I’m doing
the best I can right now.” Rae’s voice shook. She was tired of
thinking about all of the things she had to juggle: the dance hall,
tying up her business with the band and finding enough money to
live on. She blinked back tears.

“Now look what you done, Neville. There now,
don’t worry.” Andrew put an arm around her shoulder.

“Me?” Neville’s mouth dropped open. “You were
the one who–”

“Will you two stop?” Rae shook Andrew’s arm
off. “I’m fine. Now let’s cut through all the crap and think like
business people. I want to stay in Belle Rose and run the dance
hall, not just because of Daddy. I can make a go of it and showcase
Creole music, blues and Zydeco. That’s something I’ve always
wanted.”

“Actually, with tourists coming in, you could
do it,” Neville said.

“Right. But I need cash. I could go into
debt; take out a big loan. That’s one alternative. Then I’d hold
onto the land.” Rae looked at them.

Andrew frowned. “How much money we
talkin’?”

“At least forty thousand to fix the place up
and hire staff for the first year. I could use part of my savings
for operating expenses.”

“I got some money. Well, a little.” Andrew
lifted a shoulder with a shame-faced smile. “Guess a few hundred
won’t go far, but you can have it.”

“Wait a minute.” Neville got up and poured
some more coffee into his cup. “Me and Trisha have some money put
by. We could help.”

“Thanks so much.” Rae got up to hug him.
“You’re sweet but–”

“About seventy thousand oughta pull you
through fine. Then you won’t have to sell, for now at least.”
Neville sipped his coffee.

“Seventy thou–” Andrew fell back in his
chair.

“Neville, I can’t take all your savings.
You’ve got kids to send to college,” Rae said.

“Oh, that’s not the college fund. Trisha is
still getting some royalties from her family’s oil well in Port
Hudson. It’s not much, but we’re secure.” Neville looked at them.
“What?”

“Neville, you own an oil well?” Andrew
whispered in an awestruck voice.

“No. Trisha’s parents own an oil well.”
Neville spoke in his usual serious, methodical tone. “They share
royalties with her, her sisters and brothers. Between six kids, now
that the price of oil has gone so low, we get a few hundred these
days.”

“Neville, we’re family. You know we won’t
tell. Just how much are y’all worth?” Andrew was perched on the end
of his chair.

“Andrew!” Rae cried, slapping his arm.

“Owwee! Neville knows I don’t mean no harm.”
Andrew rubbed his arm. “Anyway, you dyin’ to know yourself!”

“I am not.” Rae lifted her nose in the air.
“Neville, it’s none of our business. Besides, Trisha might not want
her business put out in the street.” She eyed Andrew. “We all know
you’d be slurping beer and bragging on your big brother tonight at
Sonny Sonnier’s juke joint.”

“Ah, Rae.” Andrew stuck his mouth out.

“Neville, I’m not at all sure about taking
your money.” Rae did not like the idea. It could be several years
before she could repay even a fraction of it.

“But you wanna throw in with Darcy Jove and
Simon?” Andrew wore a bitter frown. “They’ve been dumpin’ on us for
years.”

“You know I was always mad at Daddy for
holding onto the past. Didn’t like a lot of what he did,” Neville
said in a quiet voice.

“I know.” Rae gazed at him. As the eldest,
Neville had confronted Lucien about his behavior at the age of
fourteen. They clashed many times until Neville left home four
years later.

“But these last few years we kinda made our
peace. I’ve been thinking we should try to hold onto the land as
part of the Dalcour heritage.” Neville looked at Rae and
Andrew.

Andrew nodded. “You right, big brother. I
stuck up for Daddy, but I didn’t always approve of what he did.
Told him so a few times.”

Neville looked at him in surprise. “You
did?”

“Yep. Anyway, he had it hard after Pawpaw
Vincent left. I just feel we gotta keep this land for him. To make
all that pain count for somethin’.” Andrew was serious for
once.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about over
the last few days. Daddy was a strong man in a lot of ways. He
deserved better.” Neville stared out the kitchen window that faced
him.

“I loved that stubborn rascal.” Andrew’s
voice was thick with emotion.

“Me too,” Neville added.

“Oh Neville...” Rae felt a tear slide down
her cheek. At that moment, Neville looked and sounded so much like
Lucien that it brought back the pain of losing him.

Neville misunderstood her reaction. “I’m not
criticizing you, cher.” He put a large arm around her shoulder. “We
know you just trying to find the best way to build something,
too.”