A Darker Shade of Midnight (12 page)

“Why would she help the man who killed her husband?” Chase frowned.

“They didn’t have a happy marriage. The old man treated the poor woman like dirt, even in front of other people. He thought Quentin was a spoiled screw-up. My guess is she knew Quentin helped him, and she would do anything for her precious only grandson.”
 

“Sounds like Kyle Singleton solved a nasty problem for them both,” Chase murmured.

“I’d bet that Mrs. Trosclair and Quentin paid him handsomely to do his time and keep his mouth shut.
 
He’ll probably do his fifteen years and head for a nice, sunny beach somewhere with no money worries. ”
 

“You don’t’ know?” Chase blinked at her in surprise.

 
“Know what, he’s out on parole?”

“Yeah, you could say that. He left in a body bag. Another prisoner stabbed him to death two weeks before he was going before the parole board. I asked around. Seems the word was he had a good chance of getting out.” Chase stared at her.

“Damn,” LaShaun said and sat back in her chair.

“Bad luck?” Chase’s dark eyebrows arched as he gazed at LaShaun waiting for a reaction.

LaShaun felt a familiar tingle. Of course, Singleton’s murder wasn’t simply bad luck. The image of Quentin’s confident swagger flashed into memory like a bad video re-wind. “His bad luck started when he crossed Claude Trosclair and thought he trust Quentin.”

“Yeah. Singleton didn’t have any incentive to protect you, He could have easily given you up as the murderer. So why didn’t he?”
 

“He was terrified that I’d put a bad mojo on him?”

Chase grinned and shook his head. “For whatever reason, he didn’t. The file shows the investigators couldn’t connect you to the murder. Sheriff Triche personally checked your alibi, motive and if you had the means. I read the interview transcript. Sheriff Triche told the lead investigator back then not to waste his time. Singleton took a deal and avoided a trial.”

“I see.” LaShaun thought about that file. She would give just about anything to spend time reading every page.
 

“There are some loose ends, but with Singleton in prison nobody cared. Not Sheriff Triche and not the district attorney. Case closed.” Chase continued to study LaShaun.

“You expect me to spill some secrets and fill in the blanks?” LaShaun said, and then yawned widely.

“I expect you to get some much needed sleep.”

A musical tune made them both jump, then search for their cell phones. Chase grabbed his and held it up. LaShaun stood watching him as the tension in her muscles gripped her gain.

 
“It’s me. Hello. Yes, sir, I’ll be in at six in the morning. Good night.” Chase ended the call. He looked at LaShaun. “They’ve found a woman’s body. It’s Rita.”

LaShaun’s heart beat so fast her chest hurt. She leaned against the breakfast bar gripping the marble edge. She asked the question though she already knew the answer. “Are they sure?”

Chase nodded then opened his arms. LaShaun shook her head slowly and covered her face with both hands. His strong arms and soothing voice got her through the night.

Chapter 9

The next three days went by fast.
 
LaShaun got through the hours by putting one foot in front of the other. She felt trapped in a heavy fog of misery. Yet, she had to keep going for her grandmother. Decisions had to be made about her medical care, the financial mess Rita created, and how to manage the assets left. The lurid details of Azalei’s injuries and Rita’s murder brought a herd of reporters from as far away as Houston, Texas. The locals were only too happy to fill them in on rumors of voodoo. Claude Trosclair’s murder became news again as well. By Thursday morning, LaShaun had to go through another round of questioning, this time at the Sheriff’s station with the DA sitting in.
 

Savannah met her at the station. Within ten minutes, they were ushered into an interview room. Scott Hazelton, the new DA who had won election with his tough on crime stance, wore a suitably grim expression. Sheriff Triche’s face had deep lines etched into it and dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked grayish. LaShaun wondered if he could make it through the next hour, much less another seven months until he retired. Deputy Gautreau stood to the right of the DA with a satisfied look stamped on his broad features.
 
A young woman with shoulder length blonde hair in a dark gray suit sat next to the DA. Introduced as Brenda Crandall, she was Hazelton’s assistant DA.

Sheriff Triche led the questioning and started with broad strokes, where had LaShaun been and with whom. He didn’t ask about Rita or Azalei at first. Then the DA stepped in. He narrowed the focus to LaShaun’s conflict with both victims. The assistant DA took over with more questions. After forty-five minutes, Savannah stopped writing and interrupted the interrogation.

“Okay, now you’re asking the same questions in a different way. My client won’t give different answers. So just let me sum this up and save us all time.” Savannah consulted her notes on a yellow legal pad. “You have no physical evidence implicating my client. Nothing proves my client had the means to commit the assault or murder. You don’t even know if the two women were together when they were attacked, or if we’re talking about two different perpetrators, and Ms. Rousselle’s motive is shaky.”

“Circumstantial evidence sends a lot of people to prison,” Deputy Gautreau replied.
 
He ignored the way Sheriff Triche frowned at him.

“We’re asking Ms. Rousselle questions so we can follow all leads. Your client did have heated confrontations more than once with both the victims. So it’s only natural that we’d talk to her.” The DA wore an impassive expression. “And we appreciate your client’s willingness to cooperate.”

“Good. So I’d say we’re done here.” Savannah zipped the leather portfolio that held her legal pad, picked up her purse, and stood. LaShaun followed her lead and also stood.

Deputy Gautreau stepped forward to block the exit. “Wait a damn minute, she ain’t just walkin’ outta here. She threatened both the victims about the old lady’s money. Who else could have done it?”
 

“That would be your job to find out, deputy,” Savannah shot back. “And you’d be doing it a whole lot better if you didn’t jump to conclusions based on rumor and gossip. Goodbye, Sheriff. Mr. Hazleton. Let’s go LaShaun.”

In spite of
 
Deputy Gautreau’s menacing glare, Savannah went around him and opened the door to the interview room. She and LaShaun walked out. Sheriff Triche pulled one hand over his face and let out grunt. The DA and his assistant stood.

“We’ll be in touch,” Hazelton called out.

“Fine,” Savannah replied over her shoulder as she kept walking. Once they were outside in the early spring sunshine Savannah let out a noisy breath. “Meet me at my office.”

LaShaun, still shaken, nodded. She climbed in her SUV and made the short drive to downtown Beau Chene. She found a parking spot on the street about a half block from Savannah’s office. Judging by the stares she got as she walked along the sidewalk the word was out. Savannah arrived in her car and went around to park behind the office. LaShaun went in first and Savannah came in minutes after. Savannah’s paralegal was on the phone in the small lobby, the edge of frustration clear in his tone. He hung up and it rung again. Buttons on three the two extra lines were blinking.

“Reporters have been blowing up the phone all morning. How did they know y’all left the sheriff’s station so fast?” Jarius, Savannah’s young paralegal, shook his head.

“You kidding me? In this town I’d be surprised if they didn’t have my shoe size by now.” Savannah marched to her office. She dropped the portfolio on the desk and put her purse in a drawer.
 
She was about to sit at down, but changed her mind. “ Hey Jarius, lock the front door in case some of them come calling.”

“You got it, boss,” Jarius said. Seconds later he knocked then came in with two frosted mugs and bottles of root beer. He put the tray on the edge of Savannah’s desk and left just as quickly.

LaShaun sat down in one of the leather chairs. “This is bad.”

“If you mean the case against you is bad, you’re right.” Savannah poured the root beer from the bottles into the two mugs. She picked up one, drank and sighed then sat at her desk. “Now you know another reason I hired that young man. He knows what a boss wants, and when she wants it.”

For the first time LaShaun smiled, but it didn’t last. She grabbed the mug. “Nice to have somebody you can count on.”

Savannah looked at her for few moments. “How are you holding up?”

“Other than being a police suspect in two major crimes?
 
Life is good.” LaShaun lost her taste for the root beer.

“Not to mention worrying about your grandmother,” Savannah said.
 

“I don’t care about being questioned because I didn’t do anything. Not that I didn’t get mad enough to give them both a good butt kicking.”

“Let’s keep that kind of talk within these four walls.” Savannah pointed at her.

“Okay, okay.” LaShaun took a deep breath. “What I mean is we had our differences, but doing something so monstrous would never enter my mind.”

“Good, good. That’s a perfect quotable statement.” Savannah nodded, and put down her mug to scribble notes.

“It happens to be true. Or does my lawyer think I did it?”

Savannah stopped writing. “No, I don’t. You’ve changed. If I didn’t think that I would have referred you to another lawyer.”

“That makes two of us in the entire state that believes I’m innocent.” LaShaun massaged the tightness in her neck with both hands.

“Three. Deputy Broussard is in your corner.” Savannah wore a slight frown and tapped one foot.

“I hear the silent ‘but’ hanging from that statement.”
 

“It could complicate matters. Especially for him, but I’m sure he knows that. Of course, it could be a good thing. He’s well liked around here. From what I hear, most of his support comes from younger people, and the growing retiree population that has moved from outside the parish. In fact a lot of them are from other states.” Savannah rocked her chair back and forth. “I don’t know. Maybe his belief in you could be a plus.”

“Or they could question his judgment, maybe even his integrity.” LaShaun got up and stared out of the window at the quaint downtown so carefully created by the chamber of commerce, and other town leaders. “Do they want a sheriff whose lover is voodoo priestess and two time murder suspect?”

The lawyer’s eyebrows shot up. “So things have progressed that far. Yeah, that’s could be a definite problem.”
 

“You think?” LaShaun retorted with a sharp laugh. “The word ‘problem’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Savannah cleared her throat. “Maybe y’all should take a break until things cool down and we find out what really happened.”

“I’ve told him that.” LaShaun felt a hollow sensation at the thought. “

 
“And of course being a sensible lawman he agrees?”

LaShaun faced Savannah. “No, and it scares me more than just about anything else. I don’t want to ruin any more lives than I already have.”

“You pulled some tricks in your day, but that’s a little dramatic.” Savannah raised a hand. “Let me finish. I’ll admit that for a long time I believed that maybe you killed Claude Trosclair, but then that didn’t add up. So I thought maybe you’d put Quentin up to it. But, let’s be real, Quentin hated his grandfather.
 
He wanted the family fortune, so he didn’t need any encouragement.”

“But I may have set events in motion.”
 
LaShaun swallowed hard. “And now I’m back and this happens.”

“You’re taking on too much guilt.” Savannah shook her head.

“Sometimes the evil we set loose just keeps on causing destruction. I don’t want to be the cause of anymore casualties, especially not Chase.” LaShaun squeezed her eyes shut, but not tight enough to stop the tears.

“Then stop it.”

LaShaun opened her eyes, and Savannah was standing in front of her with a wad of tissues in one hand. She gazed at Savannah in silence for a few moments then took the tissue, and wiped her eyes. “What did you just say?”

“I’m guessing either you know a way to fight back, or can figure it out,” Savannah said. Gone was the educated, modern woman. Savannah had grown up in the bayou country like LaShaun. Like other natives, she didn’t dismiss the folk tales and ways of the past as superstitious nonsense. Though outsiders found it strange, people of the swamps saw no conflict between conventional religion and the old beliefs in the spirit world. In fact, both traditions agreed, the battle between good and evil was real, and constant.

LaShaun breathed in and out to steel herself. “Yes. I’ve got to find a way.”
 

* * *

Monmon Odette still lay in the critical care unit of Vermilion Hospital on the day of Rita’s funeral.
 
The stroke left her in weak on the right side of her body, and unable to speak clearly. Though they hadn’t told her about Azalei and Rita, LaShaun sensed she knew something terrible had happened. Uncle Leo and Uncle Albert shocked LaShaun by being supportive. Then the logic behind their behavior became clear. LaShaun controlled Monmon Odette’s considerable estate. Her seemingly supportive uncles had their own interests in mind.