Rebel Without a Cake Page 20

  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.

  Twenty-four

  Miss Frankie and Bernice seemed surprised but pleased to find me knocking on Aunt Margaret’s front door. Aunt Margaret and Bitty welcomed me with open arms. Tallulah and Eskil didn’t exactly seem happy to see me, but they each treated me civilly.

  Kale and I had been at Silas’s place for a while, but not long enough for either Sullivan or Gabriel to call Aunt Margaret’s looking for me. Miss Frankie made noises about getting me some medical attention, and Aunt Margaret offered to call a neighbor who was a traiteur, the local faith healer, but considering how effective Mambo Odessa’s beads had been against obstacles, I put my faith in a dose of ibuprofen.

  Since I was stuck in Baie Rebelle for the foreseeable future, Aunt Margaret said that of course I must spend the night—and as many nights as I needed to. She’d put a sleeping bag on the floor of the guest room for me. She was a bit distressed that it wouldn’t be the most comfortable sleeping arrangements. I was more concerned that I’d be rooming with Miss Frankie and Bernice because sharing a bedroom would make it much more difficult to avoid my mother-in-law.

  Everyone seemed eager to hear about my day. Well, everyone but Tallulah, who didn’t seem eager at all, but joined us anyway. I shared a few of the highlights and watched Miss Frankie carefully for her reactions. I didn’t notice any unusual vibes coming from her, but when it came to sensing undercurrents, I didn’t have the best track record. I’d thought my marriage was on solid ground until the day Philippe walked out on me.

  Now that I was safe, exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. I managed to stay awake through an amazing supper of fried chicken that was crispy on the outside, moist and tender on the inside, roasted parmesan-crusted sweet potatoes, green beans and tomatoes from the garden, and summer squash sliced, sipped in egg wash and flour, and then fried until the outside was lightly browned and the inside still slightly al dente. Eskil added a dish of Cajun-spiced alligator tenderloin, which, for the record, did not taste like chicken. With its chewy texture, I can’t say it was my favorite part of the meal, but I enjoyed the experience and made a few notes for ways to make it more palatable.

  Aunt Margaret followed the masterpiece supper with banana pudding. Since moving to the South, I’d been surprised and a little confused by the love affair some people have with that particular dessert. I just didn’t understand its appeal. But after just one bite of Aunt Margaret’s rich, creamy pudding, the mystery was solved and I became a banana pudding convert.

  I tried again to reach Sullivan with no luck, which probably meant that he was on a case. I called the Dizzy Duke, but Gabriel wasn’t at work so I called his cell phone, which went straight to voice mail again. I left another message, this time including Aunt Margaret’s number so he could return the call, then I helped with the cleanup after dinner. I was just about to offer my excuses so I could crawl into my sleeping bag when Miss Frankie suggested that we go out onto the porch to talk.

  This wasn’t how I wanted our first conversation to play out; namely, in someone else’s home when I was achy and bone tired. But I couldn’t come up with an excuse I thought she’d listen to. Steeling myself, I grabbed a glass of Aunt Margaret’s peach tea and trailed Miss Frankie outside.

  Bernice came outside with us and patted my shoulder as she moved past me to claim a rocking chair. We spent a few minutes arranging ourselves and commenting on the weather, and then my mother-in-law got down to business.

  “Did you get a chance to talk to Kale about his father’s death?” Miss Frankie said when we’d all made ourselves comfortable.

  I let out a thin laugh and nodded. “Yes, a little. You’re not wasting any time getting right to it, are you?”

  Miss Frankie waved a hand and regarded me expectantly. “Why should I? We all know what this is about, don’t we?”

  Yes, I suppose we did. I didn’t want to let my conversation with Ox creep into my head while I was sitting here with Miss Frankie, but doubts are insidious things. They find even the smallest chink in the armor and worm their way in. Had I detected censure in Miss Frankie’s voice or had I imagined it? Was there disapproval in her expression? In the dark it was hard to tell.

  Bernice linked her hands together on her lap. “It’s just that we’re all so concerned about Eskil. The sheriff was out here this afternoon trying to question him. Eskil still isn’t talking, and I’m afraid it’s making him look bad.”

  “So what did Kale have to say?” Miss Frankie prodded.

  “Not much. He says that Silas started trying to talk to him about a month ago. Kale didn’t want anything to do with the guy, so he has no idea what Silas wanted.”

  Bernice took that in with an almost imperceptible nod. “Do you believe him?”

  “I think so, but also I think he’s confused and hurt. He’s spent his whole life knowing that his father was just a few miles away, but also aware that his father wanted nothing to do with him. I don’t think he knows what he feels right now.”

  “That could be reason enough for the boy to kill his father,” Miss Frankie said. “Silas ignored him for most of his life and then suddenly wanted to see him? The boy would naturally get angry. Maybe he snapped.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Except for that scenario to work, Kale would have had to visit Silas and he claims he never did. He said that he was afraid of his father and terrified that he’d turn out like him. He tried to stay away so Silas wouldn’t rub off on him.”

  Bernice put a hand to her chest. “Oh, that poor boy. What a burden to carry.”

  “Of course,” Miss Frankie said. “If he’s telling the truth.”

  “Even if he’s not, it would be hard to prove that he’s lying. Silas lived out in the middle of nowhere. There are no neighbors and no eyewitnesses.” I stifled a yawn and thought longingly of the sleeping bag waiting for me inside. “Kale told me that Silas was squatting on land owned by your late-husband’s family, Bernice. Do you know if that’s true?”

  Bernice’s eyes flew wide open. “Dudley family land? I have no idea. Where was his cabin? Do you know?”

  I pointed down the road. “That way about ten miles, I think. And I wouldn’t exactly
call it a cabin. It’s more like some boards leaning against each other. I wish I could be more exact but that’s about all I know—except that it’s in some trees and he has a pretty impressive garbage dump going on.”

  Miss Frankie shook her head. “What about Silas’s wife? When you met her, did she say anything interesting?”

  “Nettie wants Kale to work for his uncle, but I don’t understand why. Kale says that his mom doesn’t like Junior, but she seems to be pushing Kale to accept the job offer.”

  “But everyone says that Junior has been good to her,” Bernice said. “Why doesn’t she like him?”

  “She says he’s a difficult man,” I told them, “and from what I’ve seen of him I believe her. To be honest, I’ve found more reasons somebody might want to kill Junior than Silas. Silas didn’t have anything. He squatted on land and poached whatever he wanted when he wanted it. From what I’ve learned, Silas didn’t want anything except to be left alone.”

  “And apparently to talk to his son,” Miss Frankie reminded me.

  “True. And he also kept the locals supplied with moonshine.”

  Bernice gasped. “Eskil was right? He had Uncle Cooch’s still?”

  “He had a still,” I said. “I don’t know if it was Uncle Cooch’s or not. I wish I had better news for you, Bernice, but the only person who seems to have had a real motive to want Silas dead was Eskil.”

  Bernice’s hand fluttered to her mouth and she caught back a sob. “But he didn’t do it,” she insisted. “He couldn’t have.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said. I wished I could give her more reassurance than that, but that was the best I could do.

  We stopped talking, and for a while our silence was interrupted only by the creaking of rocking chairs and the brush of a light wind over the undergrowth. In spite of my certainty that man-eating critters were lurking out there just waiting for someone to drop a careless foot on the ground, it was oddly peaceful.