A Darker Shade of Midnight (13 page)

LaShaun came out of the critical care unit. She dressed in a simple black skirt and blouse for the funeral. Both uncles were in the hallway wearing dark suits talking low to each other. Except for their differences in height, they looked alike. They wore twin solemn expressions as well. Uncle Leo saw LaShaun first. He nodded in her direction, and touched his brother on the shoulder. Uncle Albert stopped talking and they walked toward her.

“You sure going to the funeral is a good idea, Cher?” Uncle Leo’s tone was soothing. “Some raw feelings about all this mess with the family, you know.”

“Yeah, La-La,” Uncle Albert put in, using LaShaun’s childhood nickname that no one had called her in years.
 

“I’m not going to hide out like I did something wrong.” LaShaun looked at them both. “Rita might have done some things that I didn’t like, but she was family. I’m going to pay my respects.”

“Then good thing we stopped by. We’ll go with you. Leave your vehicle here. I’ll drive us in my truck.” Uncle Leo nodded as though that settled the question.

“Thanks.”
 

LaShaun allowed him to hook his large hand under her elbow and lead the way. They all got into Uncle Leo’s his fancy dark green special edition Ford F10 truck with an extended cab. In spite of her cynicism about their solicitous behavior, LaShaun was still grateful for their presence. They arrived at St. Augustine Catholic Church. Most of the mourners had already entered so they attracted little attention at first. Uncle Albert led them to a seat at the end of the middle row of pews, the section reserved for the family. A distant middle-aged cousin, Esmee sat on the other end with her adult daughter. When she noticed LaShaun between Uncle Leo and Uncle Albert her eyes widened, and she whispered to her daughter. Within seconds, the news passed up the family section. Heads swiveled back, and the murmuring continued until the priest spoke.
 
Rita’s mother, Aunt Shirl, softly wept throughout the short mass. She leaned against Rita’s stepfather. Rita’s two half-sisters took turns sitting next to their mother to console her.

The small church resonated with the solemn notes from an organ as the service ended.
 
Pallbearers
 
rolled the casket out to the waiting hearse. Most of the mourners walked the short distance to the nearby church cemetery. Thirty minutes later. it was over. Rita was in the ground, and LaShaun was no closer to seeing the truth. She’d hoped that some message might come through, especially in the graveyard, but nothing. No chills along her spine, no prickle up her arms or strange shimmers in the air.
 

In spite of Uncle Leo and Uncle Albert protesting she was pushing her luck, LaShaun insisted they attend the repast. Family and friends had prepared a wonderful buffet of foods. The family was served first, and then the other mourners helped themselves. Rita’s mother waved away a plate of food one of her daughters tried to give her. Then she spotted LaShaun. Conversation died away like a ripple through the crowd. When Aunt Shirl stood, her daughters and husband argued with her. Finally, she cut all three off.

“I said no. Now hush.” Aunt Shirl brushed her youngest daughter’s hand away. “Go on now, Chelette.” Then she walked over to LaShaun.

“Maybe we better leave,” Uncle Albert mumbled low to Uncle Leo.
 

“Let me talk to her first.” Uncle Leo wore a smile as he walked to meet Aunt Shirl.
 

“Leo, thank you for comin’,” Aunt Shirl said, but went past him to LaShaun. “You and me need to talk. We’ll go in one of these rooms.”

“I know you’re upset, Shirl. But don’t believe all kinds of wild talk going around.” Uncle Albert motioned to Uncle Leo, who still stood in the middle of the hall looking stunned.

“I’m talkin’ to LaShaun in private. Just stay out of this.”
 

Aunt Shirl stared at them until they both took a step back. Then she jerked a thumb at LaShaun before going into the office. LaShaun followed her, closed the door, and steeled herself for an attack. Instead, Aunt Shirl sank onto a small sofa and closed her eyes.

“Before you say anything, Aunt Shirl, let me just say I would never have hurt Rita, not that way. We got into a fight sure, but I didn’t… I couldn’t.” LaShaun stopped when Aunt Shirl looked up.

“Rita had it hard. I realize that now,” Aunt Shirl said; her voice hoarse with emotion. “Her daddy and your mama looked so much alike, with that wild kind of good looks that made folks stare at ‘em. Robert Rousselle had me with just one little old smile.”

LaShaun sat down on one of the folding chairs in the room. “I don’t really remember Uncle Robert. He wasn’t around much when I was a kid.”

“Humph, that says it all. Robert wasn’t around much for anybody. He was too busy gambling, drinking, and going from club to club. But he could sing and play that guitar.” Aunt Shirl sighed. “Rita didn’t know him much better than you. Then I married, had more kids. She always felt like the red-headed stepchild as the old saying goes.”

“And that Monmon Odette favored me,” LaShaun said.

“Well she did. I’m not faulting you for that, but your grandmother should have known better.” Aunt Shirl looked at LaShaun. “But I gotta ask you plain, did you cause this horrible thing to happen to my child?”

“I swear before God, Aunt Shirl, I didn’t have anything to do with Rita’s death. LaShaun leaned forward. “
Nothing
.”
 

Aunt Shirl gazed at her in silence for a long time. Someone knocked on the door and she called out, “We’re fine, just leave us for a minute.”

“I want to find out who did this more than anyone, except you.” LaShaun saw the pain in Aunt Shirl’s eyes turned to a flash of anger.

“I want the scum to get the death penalty, and I want him to suffer first.” Aunt Shirl clenched and unclenched her hands several times. Then she sank back against the sofa. “That won’t bring my child back, but at least I’ll get some justice.”

“Do you believe me?” LaShaun said quietly.

Aunt Shirl blinked back from her grief and looked at LaShaun. “Folks will think I’m crazy, or that you put a mojo on me, but I do believe you. Then again, I never cared what folks thought anyway. Listen, Rita had some regrets. She was sorry for throwing in with Azalei and her crowd. She told me so. Seems like Rita didn’t know just how deep the water was until she up to her neck. You know Azalei was running with that Quentin Trosclair.”

“No,” LaShaun replied. She decided not to mention Quentin’s tantalizing hint at some connection between them.

“He’s got more trouble than he’s got money in the bank, and we know he’s got a lot of that.” Aunt Shirl grimaced. “Anyway, Rita said she thought she was having fun at first, but then something happened that made her see her new friends differently.”

“What?” LaShaun felt a prickle along her arms.

Aunt Shirl shook her head slowly. “She wouldn’t go into it, just said she needed to get away from them. From the look on her face, I figured it was bad, but I didn’t push her. Now I wish I had.”

“Did she mention anybody else? That could give the police a clue about who might have attacked them.”

“She didn’t say any other names, but they partied with some others, I do know that much. Look, I told the sheriff that Rita was partying hard, that maybe she dabbled in drugs. The blood tests showed she’d been smoking marijuana and had some other drugs in her system. Now she might have smoked weed, but I don’t believe Rita would use meth or ecstasy. I want her name cleared, LaShaun.”

“Yes, ma’am.” LaShaun nodded. “But why not tell all this to the sheriff?”

“Sheriff Triche is sick. Didn’t you hear? Something about his heart.”
 

“Too bad.” LaShaun remembered how pale and shaky Sheriff Triche looked a few days ago during her interview. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah, more fair than any of those previous sheriffs.” Aunt Shirl shrugged. “Time marches on. Anyway, the deputy that’s itching to get the sheriff’s job talked to us. I don’t like him, or trust him either.”

“Deputy Broussard is a good guy, Aunt Shirl.”
 

“I’m talking about that Gautreau fella. There’s talk that he was partying with Quentin and Azalei, but folks are too scared to do more than whisper that real low; and only to people they trust real good. Quentin and Gautreau both got a reputation for being mean as a bucket of snakes.” Aunt Shirl shook her head slowly. “Something ain’t right. I figure you have a strong reason to find the truth. You don’t want to end up in prison for something you didn’t do.”

LaShaun stood. “You’re right about that. I don’t know if I can, but I’m going to try to find out what really happened no matter who goes down.”

Aunt Shirl looked up at her for a few moments then rose slowly from the sofa. Her face had lines of grief and exhaustion. She seemed to have run out of energy. “I know you have the gift, like your Monmon. Folks say one day it’s gonna burn you up.”

“Maybe.” LaShaun knew she had to do more than look for facts in the human world. She thought back to the whispers in the woods, and the face that appeared to her.

“I
 
know Rita felt bad about the way she dealt with Miz Odette. She had some jealousy toward you, that’s the truth. But there was a time back when y’all were kids that Rita looked up to you. Forgive her, find her killer.”

“I’ll use whatever gift Le Bon Dieu gave me to find her killer,” LaShaun promised.

Rita’s mother gazed at LaShaun for a few minutes. “I never thought you was evil like a lotta folks said. Just headstrong like your Monmon and wild like your mama. We all make mistakes.”

“Thanks, Aunt Shirl.”

“But something bad always seems to follow your footsteps, LaShaun. I want you to stay away from my daughters.
 
Just stay away.”
 

Aunt Shirl took a step back, and circled around LaShaun as though careful not to get too close. She went out of the room leaving LaShaun alone. Seconds later Uncle Leo came in. He looked around the room as if something in it would give him a clue about their conversation.

“You alright?” he said.

“Yes. I’m ready to leave.” LaShaun walked out past him, and left the church annex building. People stared at her until she got into her uncle’s truck.
 

Uncle Albert tried to begin conversation, but LaShaun’s one-word answers soon discouraged him. She was glad when they arrived back at the hospital parking lot. She thanked them, then quickly left the truck and went into the hospital. Assured that there was no change in Monmon Odette’s condition, LaShaun went home. She tried to take a nap, but the conversation with Aunt Shirl kept playing in her mind.
 

* * *

At ten o’clock the next morning LaShaun went back to the hospital. The doctors upgraded Monmon Odette’s status from critical to serious. They moved her into a room. LaShaun continued to pay the home health agency to provide sitters in the hospital. After she got an update from nurse on duty, LaShaun entered the room. The nurse’s assistant smiled at her as she came in.

“I’m just putting some lotion on her legs and arms. Tasha will be here about one o’clock.” The petite woman continued to massage Monmon Odette’s arms while she worked.
 

“Thank you. Y’all are taking real good care of her.” LaShaun appreciated the neatness of the bedding and the room in general.

“Thank you, ma’am. There now. I’m going to leave some notes with the nurse at the desk, and be on my way.”
 

“Will the nurse need to come in any time soon?” LaShaun asked.

“No, ma’am. She just took her vitals. She won’t to do that for another two hours. The IV meds and fluids are all set.” She gave LaShaun a maternal pat on the arm as she left.

LaShaun waited until the door whisked shut quietly. She took an antique book from the leather tote she’d brought with her. Before opening it, LaShaun went to the door and looked out. The nurse’s assistant spoke quietly to the nurses on duty. No one else was in the hallway. Reassured they would not be disturbed, LaShaun sat in the chair close to the hospital bed. The brown paper rustled softly as she smoothed out its fragile pages yellowed with age. The window blinds were half closed, and only a soft white light glowed in the room. Soon LaShaun was absorbed in reading the fancy script before her. She struggled to translate the Louisiana Creole French, a dying language rarely spoken even by the descendants of Creoles of color. Some words were unfamiliar. Still LaShaun understood enough to translate spellbinding Rousselle family secrets kept for a century or more.

“So you found it.”

The raspy voice hardly sounded familiar. LaShaun started and looked around the room half expecting to see a phantom. Instead, her grandmother lay watching her, breathing heavily as though just a few words had been a huge effort. She grimaced and pursed her lips. LaShaun put the book aside quickly, and found a plastic pitcher of ice water. She poured some into a cup with a straw and helped her grandmother drink. Monmon Odette turned away to signal she’d had enough.

“I love you, granmér.” LaShaun felt the need to say that before anything else because
 
her grandmother was slipping away.

Monmon Odette moved her head slightly. “I love you as well, child. You’ve found the answer.” Her words slurred and faded.