False Pretenses (10 page)

“Most folks were kind. Sometimes kids laughed at him or got scared o’ him because he was different.”

“Could you walk me through a typical day in Remy’s life?”

Emile stared at his hands. “I got him up at four. Put his bike in my truck and drove him down to da
Ledger
building. He rolled his papers and delivered ’em, den rode his bike home and was back by seven. I cooked us breakfast. Remy did chores around da house and played video games while I did woodworkin’ in da garage. He rode wid me when I made deliveries. Lots o’ times, before we called it a day, we went to Cypress Park and fed da ducks. We did most everything together.”

“But not today?”

Emile’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he waited until he regained his composure before continuing. “Remy was supposed to ride his bike over to his aunt Sue’s and stay put while I went fishin’ on da river. I took him wid me when we fished for fun, but I needed to do some serious catchin’ today to fill up my freezer. Dat’s a long day for Remy.”

“Your sister, Sue Fontaine?”

Emile nodded. “At first when Remy didn’t show up, Sue thought we got our wires crossed and I’d taken Remy wid me. She tried callin’, but dere’s no cell signal on da river and she couldn’t get through. When she heard about da hangin’, she got scared and reported him missin’.”

“I’m glad she did,” Jude said. “I recognized Remy as the victim right off but had no way of getting in touch with you. Thank the Lord your sister knew you were on the river and would be home by dark. I’m sure your heart sank when you saw my deputies waiting in front of your house when you pulled up.”

“Broke my heart when dey told me what happened. I took da hosepipe and a bar o’ soap and cleaned up on da patio, den put on dry clothes and went wid ’em over to da morgue and identified my son’s body.” Emile wrung his hands. “Dat’s as bad as it gets.”

“Yes, it is, Emile. I’m so sorry. Can you recall if any black person ever threatened you or your son?”

“Nah. We got along wid everyone.”

“Any African-American who might want to get back at you—a dissatisfied customer? A disgruntled neighbor? Anyone?”

“Not dat I know of.”

“Did Remy ever make remarks about black people—something that could be misconstrued as racist if someone didn’t know Remy thought like a child?”

Emile shrugged. “News to me, if he did. I know what you’re gettin’ at, Sheriff, but dose folks accepted my boy. We fished off da bridge wid ’em all da time. I don’t look at any person as better dan another, and dat’s how I taught Remy.…” Emile’s voice cracked. “Lot o’ good it did me.”

“Did Remy work with any blacks at the
Ledger?”

“Didn’t work wid anybody. Took care o’ his own route. Dere’s a supervisor, but she’s Hispanic.”

“Could there have been an African-American who felt he got aced out of the route they gave to Remy?”

“I don’t see it. Remy had da same route for eleven years. Folks at da
Ledger
made up a simple route he could remember, but dey treated Remy like everybody else. He earned his money. Did a real good job for ’em.”

“I know he did,” Jude said. “I was down at Zoe B’s many times when he brought the paper in. Remy took pride in his job.”

“Dat he did.” Emile wiped a tear off his cheek with the back of his hand. “He was a good boy.”

“Remind me how old Remy was,” Aimee said.

“Thirty-two. O’ course in his head he was still a little boy. His mind jus’ never grew up. Made things harder for him, but dere was somethin’ real special ’bout him too.”

Aimee nodded. “Yes there was, Emile. His death is a loss to everyone in Les Barbes. We all feel it.”

“Don’t know what I’m gonna do now.” Emile’s lip quivered. “Remy’s all I had.”

“We released his name to the media just a few minutes ago,” Jude said. “And I’m going to have to go back out there and confirm the content of the note we found on Deputy Castille’s squad car. Unfortunately that means you’re going to get swarmed by people wanting to ask you questions. I imagine the networks are already setting up outside your house. Do you want to give a statement?”

Emile shook his head. “I jus’ wanna go home and close da blinds and let it all sink in. I need to sit alone wid my thoughts.”

Jude glanced over at Aimee. “Deputy Chief Rivette will escort you home and make sure the media stays out of your face. But I have to tell you, Emile, hate crimes like this draw national attention. Life’s going to get even tougher for a while.”

CHAPTER 9

The next morning, Zoe stood at the bathroom mirror and fastened the strand of pearls that seemed to be the perfect accessory for the only black dress she owned. When was the last time she wore it—when Pierce’s uncle Gaston died last year?

She saw Pierce’s reflection in the mirror and felt his arms slip around her, his newly shaven cheek next to hers, the spicy, woody fragrance of his Tuscany cologne unmistakable.

“You look much too pretty to be going to a funeral,” he said. “But I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t have to face this alone. Maybe I should go with you.”

“I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re watching things here. We can’t both be gone.”

“Actually we can. I trust Dempsey to do the cooking and run the kitchen. And Savannah could coordinate things in the dining room and would jump at the chance to make some overtime.”

Zoe held his gaze in the mirror. He could
not
come with her. She had to sound believable. “You are incredibly sweet to want to be with me today. And I love you for it.” She turned around in his arms and cupped his face in her hands. “But I need to be present, really present, for Annabelle’s family. I know myself. Unless I’m confident everything is operating smoothly at the eatery, I won’t be able to turn loose of it.”

“I see.”

“Pierce, you’re the only person I trust to run Zoe B’s. I really need you here.”

“All right, babe. I want to do whatever I can to make things easier for you.”

“Thanks.” She combed her fingers gently through his hair. “And don’t worry about me. The long drive will give me time to gather my thoughts and think of what I want to say to Annabelle’s family.”

“Well, you of all people understand what it’s like to suddenly lose someone you love. I can tell the death of your parents still plays on you.”

The lie plays on me
, she thought.
I’ve told you so many I can hardly keep them straight.
“I definitely won’t have trouble empathizing. I imagine I’ll be late getting home.”

“How late?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll probably spend the whole afternoon with the family. Don’t plan on me for dinner.”

“Do whatever you need to. I’ll hold down the fort.” He kissed her forehead. “Relax, will you? I’ve got you covered. I don’t want you worrying about anything here. Just go pay your respects and spend as much time as you need to with Annabelle’s family.”

“Thanks,
cher
. I appreciate you being so understanding.”

She started to turn back to the sink, but Pierce didn’t loosen his embrace. Why was he looking at her so strangely?

“Zoe, I’ve got bad news. I’ve been debating whether to wait until you get back to tell you this, but you’re bound to hear it on the radio.”

“What is it?”

“They released the name of the man who was hanged.” Pierce fingered her pearl necklace. “It was Remy Jarvis.”

“
What?”
It took several seconds for his words to register. “I-I can’t believe it.” Remy’s childlike countenance flashed through her mind as Pierce’s image blurred. A tear spilled down her cheek. “Why would anyone want to hurt such a gentle soul? This is devastating.”

“I’ll say. I can’t even imagine the backlash when word gets out.”

“Savannah will be crushed. Hebert, too.”

“Everyone will.” Pierce plucked a tissue from the box and handed it to her. “I’m sorry to add this to the burden you’re already carrying, but I didn’t want you getting caught off guard. I’m sure it’s all over the radio.”

Zoe dabbed her eyes. “Poor Emile. He must be inconsolable. Are there any suspects?”

“Not yet. The sheriff is sorting through evidence taken from the crime scene. Babe, you have to try and put it out of your mind for now. You’ve got another death more pressing at the moment.”

Zoe saw the mascara all over the tissue. So much for looking nice. Could this day get any more complicated?

A loud clap of thunder shook the building and reverberated for several seconds.

“You’re going to need your umbrella,” Pierce said. “It’s supposed to rain all day.”

“That’s all I need.” Zoe was suddenly aware of raindrops pelting the window.

“It’s a result of the tropical depression,” Pierce said. “I just listened to the weather report. The rain is supposed to get heavier between here and the gulf as the day goes on. They’re saying to allow extra time if you’re driving down the bayou. Traffic could be backed up.”

“Okay, I’ll leave as soon as I’m ready.”
But I’m headed north on I-49.

Vanessa sat in the rocking chair in Carter’s room, the same chair Ethan’s parents had used to rock him when he was a baby, and watched as Carter finished building a tower out of plastic blocks.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” she said. “Just one more.”

Carter picked up the last block with both hands, giggling all the while. He placed it carefully on the top of the tower, which swayed ever so slightly, and then let go, his eyes wide with anticipation. It didn’t fall.

“You did it! Good job!”

“I want to keep this so Daddy can see it.”

“He’ll love it. I’m so proud of you. It’s not easy building a tower as tall as you are without it falling over.”

“I’m a good builder.”

“Yes, you are. And you’re Mommy’s sweet boy. Come give me some of that sugar.”

Carter ran over to her, hugged her tightly, then climbed into her lap and nestled in her arms. Was her baby really four already? How much longer would he allow her to engage him in this tender ritual?

“Is the sheriff coming here again?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. He’s checking on some things at the manor house.”

“He’s looking for the candy man, but I don’t think he’s going to find him.”

She combed his mound of thick hair with her fingers. “Why do you say that?”

“Because the candy man can dipsappear.”

Vanessa smiled at her son’s mispronunciation. “How do you know he can disappear?”

“He told me.”

“Did you see him do it?”

“He was
in
the closet. And then he was
all gone
.” Carter pushed back and looked up at her, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks dimpled. “It was a magic twick.”

“It’s okay for you to have a friend that’s make-believe. But it’s important not to pretend when the sheriff is trying to find him. Sweetie, are you absolutely sure the man you saw in the closet is real and not make-believe? I won’t be mad. I just need to know the truth.”

Carter sighed. “Mommy, I alweady told you.”

“I just need you to be absolutely sure because it’s very important to the work the sheriff is doing.”

“Is the candy man bad?” Carter ran his thumb and forefinger along the hem of her tank top.

“No one said that. But the sheriff needs to find him and talk to him.”

“Well, maybe if we call him, he will come out of the closet.”

Vanessa picked up Carter’s hand and studied his little fingers. If only it were that simple. How would she ever feel safe at Langley Manor until this mystery was resolved?

“Mommy, what is lynching?”

How had he overheard Ethan and her talking? They had tried to be so careful.

“It’s a mean thing some people do to hurt someone else. It’s a word for grown-ups, not little boys.”

Vanessa held her son snugly and rocked him in silence, her arms around him like a soft blanket. His innocent little mind didn’t need to know details, didn’t need to see that horrible image.

She still wondered if he’d been affected on a subconscious level when Ethan’s cousin, Drew, was shot. Could a ten-month-old be just feet away from the blood spatter and see his mother’s frantic response and not be traumatized?

Vanessa sighed. Could people in heaven see what was happening on earth? Did Drew know that his dad and uncles gave the deed to Langley Manor to Ethan and her as a wedding gift—and the money in Drew’s trust fund for the refurbishing? At least something good had come out of Drew’s senseless murder. She hoped he knew.

The last thing she wanted was for the lynching to be in any way associated with Langley Manor. Didn’t the locals have enough generational resentment toward the Langleys without adding this to the mix? Vanessa sighed.
Lord, please don’t let the Langley name get pulled into this terrible hate crime.

Carter looked up and held her face in his hands. “Don’t be sad, Mommy. Jesus is your fwend.”

She smiled. “Yes, He is. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Can I go play now?”

“Of course you can.” She gave him one last hug and then helped him down. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Bye. I have to go find Georgie.”

Zoe drove north on Interstate 49, a downpour impeding her vision. She stayed focused on the taillights of the car about fifty yards in front of her. Remy Jarvis’s murder weighed heavily on her, but could she allow herself to deal with that reality before she finished what she had come to do? Wouldn’t whatever happened today impact the rest of her life?

She glanced at her odometer. She had about forty miles to go before she arrived in Alexandria. For a split second she was tempted to withdraw all the money from savings and disappear. But how could she walk away from her marriage? From the only man she had ever loved?

No. She had to do this. She had to set the record straight. Wasn’t Adele a merciful person—and religious? Surely she could convince the woman that desperate people do desperate things. Surely she could work something out with her so that Pierce never had to know.

God, if You’ll just help me get through this, I promise never to tell another lie.

She remembered the first serious conversation she’d had with Pierce shortly after they met, and the lies that had rolled off her tongue.…

“So, Zoe Benoit, are you ever going to tell me about yourself?” Pierce had said. “Where are you from? You’re no Looziana Cajun. You sound Texan.”

“Good ear. I’m impressed. I was born and raised in Dallas.” She studied his expression. Would he be able to see through her? “My parents moved there from New Orleans after my dad got a promotion with Kidwell Meat Company. Turns out a number of families who attended Saint Bartholomew’s Church with us were Cajun, and we sort of adopted each other and became a community unto ourselves. It was a great way to grow up preserving our Acadian roots. We were close—like family.” Whatever
that
meant.

“What brought you to Les Barbes?”

Zoe put on her saddest expression and paused for half a minute. “It’s a long story. I-I’m not sure I can talk about it.”

“Okay.” Pierce placed his hand over hers. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just so taken with Zoe B’s and wonder how you got the idea to open this place. If it’s too painful to talk about, I completely understand.”

Zoe tingled at his touch. No man had ever caused her to respond that way before. “No, it’s okay. Actually I feel more at ease with you than I have with anyone in a long, long time.”

“Well, don’t feel like you have to tell me anything unless you want to.”

Zoe slipped her hand into his. “I really want to. Just bear with me. I get a little emotional.” She had wondered about this moment since she changed her name. Would the story she had fabricated about her family hold up? Could she remember all the facts? She had to start somewhere. Pierce was a good person to practice on. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to open my own eatery. In fact I opted not to go to college so I could work at Etienne’s, this incredible Cajun restaurant owned by a couple at church. I learned everything I could possibly take in, including how to make authentic Cajun food and what makes it taste really good.”