Murder in the Marsh

by Ramsey Coutta

  Still, a sense of misery imperceptible to others pervaded his life. In public and with family, no one suspected something sinister gnawed at him. He experienced these feelings because of his murderous actions and foreboding that one-day these actions might be discovered. The misery remained a very real and present reminder over the past thirty-seven years of the evil he had committed. He experienced periodic episodes of anxiety and depression when he realized everything he worked for could come crashing down at any second. In fact, his misery was tied more to what he could lose than what he had done.

  When the young man in the truck, who called himself Daniel Trahan, pulled up to his checkpoint, everything he feared flashed before his eyes. Had it been only the name ‘Trahan’, Holet could discount the encounter as just one of any number of Trahans in his parish. But the face appeared unmistakably similar to the murdered James Trahan, and the similarity could mean trouble for him. Questions immediately began popping up in his mind: Why was Trahan nosing around and talking with Grand Bayou residents? He said he worked for the federal government. Was he with federal law enforcement? Was he investigating the death of James Trahan? Fear of what would happen if his deeds were exposed overrode the any regret he had for his past actions. Holet felt an irresistible urge to learn more about this stranger.

  Eight

  Daniel and Rachel approached the outskirts of Grand Bayou village in Daniel’s boat. Daniel slowed the twin motors and observed the unusual marsh homes they passed. Grand Bayou village was a collection of modest wooden homes and fishing camps built on both sides of Grand Bayou Canal. The canal sat just west of the Mississippi River and ran parallel to it for nearly fifteen miles. Rachel explained that some of the first structures they passed were fishing camps, which belonged to weekend fisherman. Daniel found these lodgings interesting; particularly the names the owners had given to them such as ‘Hog Heaven’ ‘Amazing Grace’ ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ and ‘Da Camp.’ Electrical power lines had been extended through the marsh to the camps. Water on the other hand had not, so all of the camps had large plastic drums on top of wooden supports to which the parish delivered water.

  As Daniel and Rachel continued further down Grand Bayou Canal, they encountered dwellings housing more permanent residents. All the homes had a dock, and many of the docks had shrimp or oyster boats moored to them. The long wing-like skimmers of the shrimp boats, with fine meshed nets attached, stood hoisted high to make the boats more compact when docked. A side canal seemed to be the berthing place for the largest of vessels with two or three tied off to one another side by side. As they continued on, Daniel observed a number of boats, which had sunk in the canal, probably the result of storms or abandonment. Several homes also appeared to be abandoned and in varying stages of decay. Daniel noticed two black fishermen on a dock with their lines out in the swift moving tide. He waved and called out, “Having any luck?”

  “Hardheads,” one of the men called back in disgust. “Nothin’ but hardheads.” Daniel knew they were referring to the bitter tasting saltwater catfish that were considered a nuisance to fisherman and had spines that could leave a wicked sting.

  Rachel pointed out an old school the village children once attended off one of the side canals. It sat small and unpainted, but surely held many memories. Now all the children were picked up in a yellow school boat and transported to the main road where a school bus took them to Port Sulphur School. The old school was now used as a community center. They also passed Grand Bayou church. It had been built in the form of a long thin white building with a small steeple and colored glass windows. Members took a boat to church on Sundays for worship. Sometimes, Rachel’s church and Grand Bayou church worshipped together. When they ate dinner on the grounds, plenty of seafood abounded, including shrimp, fish, and oysters.

  Rachel finally pointed out a small, white, L-shaped home on the right side of the canal. The home seemed well cared for with green trimmed windows, a metal tin roof, and a screened in front porch. Several live oaks grew around the house, which added to its distinctiveness. Like all the other homes along the canal, a large dock connected it to the canal, but no boat was moored there. Daniel expertly guided his boat to one end of the dock and gently edged up to it. Rachel stepped out of the boat with a tie down rope in hand, and secured it to the cleat in the front and did the same in the back. Daniel cut the engines and climbed out.

  Before they could advance across the dock to the home, a young well-tanned girl, no more than six years old with long brown hair and dressed only in a pair of cutoff denim shorts, came bursting out the house to welcome the visitors.

  “Ms. Rachel! Ms. Rachel!” she shouted happily, running straight into Rachel’s outstretched arms. Rachel picked her up giving her a big hug.

  “How is Michelle today?” Rachel asked the little girl.

  “Fine, but Andre feel bad. He’s sick,” she replied in a thick Cajun accent.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll have go to in and see him. Where’s your daddy today? Shrimping? I don’t see his boat.”

  “Yes. Daddy go to catch de swimps.”

  “Is your mama home?”

  “Yes, mama’s home.”

  “Michelle, I would like for you to meet my friend, Mr. Daniel.”

  “Hello, Michelle,” Daniel said with a smile.

  Michelle shyly said hello back.

  “Come on! Ah will take you to mama,” the little girl said, grabbing Rachel’s hand and pulling her toward the house.

  Rachel and Daniel followed her. The front door was already opened. Rachel knocked politely on the doorframe, even though Michelle was pulling them through.

  “Hello!” Rachel called out, already two steps within the home.

  “Come ohn in!” a female voice in a back room invited them. “Michelle, you bring Ms. Rachel back here where ah am.”

  The house was spartan, but clean. The floorboards creaked as they walked and Daniel could see the marsh two feet below through cracks in the floor. They walked through a small living room to an even smaller bedroom. A young mother stood by a twin bed tending her son who lay there, obviously sick. She appeared to be a tiny woman in blue jeans and a tee shirt with a tanned face and long brown hair like her daughter. She had a friendly appearance, though her concern for her son was evident on her face.

  “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Rachel. Ahm vary sorry Andre, he miss school,” the young mother apologized in her heavy Cajun accent.

  “Don’t you worry, Mrs. LeBlanc. What’s important now is that Andre gets to feeling better. How’s he doing?”

  “About de same. But my little boo, he’s a fighter. Right sha?” she said, stroking the boy’s hair.

  “Dat’s right, mama,” the boy said weakly, looking up from under the covers. He looked about ten years old to Daniel.

  “Do you know what’s making him sick?” Rachel asked.

  “De doctor say he got de stomach flu. Andre, his stomach hurt and he vomit. He also does not want to eat and his temperature is high. De doctor, he say to get plenty of rest and drink lots of liquids.”

  Rachel looked down at the boy, “Andre, I hope you get well soon. I miss having you in class.”

  “Yes, Ms. Rachel.”

  “School has just begun, and I don’t want you to fall behind the other kids. You’re one of my best students. I brought you some schoolwork to study, when you feel better so you can keep up.”

  “Tank you, Ms. Rachel. I will do all de work before I come back to school.”

  “Okay, Andre. I’m going to be praying for you. Would you mind if I said a prayer for you now?” she volunteered, handing the schoolwork to Mrs. LeBlanc.

  “Dats ok with me, it is,” Andre smiled. Mrs. LeBlanc nodded her approval too.

  Rachel first introduced Daniel to Mrs. LeBlanc and Andre, and then bent down beside Andre’s bed and prayed for the young boy. Daniel lowered his head during the prayer. Rachel impressed him with her concern for the welfare of the boy.

  When s
he finished, she asked if she and Daniel could speak with Mrs. LeBlanc alone for a few minutes. Mrs. LeBlanc told Michelle to watch her brother, and they went out on the screened porch. Mrs. LeBlanc invited them to sit on a porch swing, while she sat in a rocking chair nearby.

  “Mrs. LeBlanc, Mr. Trahan works for the federal government and he’s doing an investigation of changes in the marshlands. He would like to ask you a few questions about what changes you’ve seen over the years,” Rachel explained.

  “Ms. Rachel. Please, you call me Adele. I’d be glad to answer questions.”

  “Thank you, Adele. And please call me Rachel.”

  “Ms. LeBlanc, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I truly hope your son makes a speedy recovery,” Daniel said.

  “Tank you.”

  “I was actually born here in Port Sulphur, but my mother moved us away when I was a baby after my daddy disappeared.”

  “Dat so? Who’s your mama and papa?”

  “My mama is Joann Trahan. My daddy was James Trahan.”

  “Ah don’t tink ah know dem.”

  “My mother lives in Lake Charles now. My father was a bi-vocational pastor at Bayview and a shrimper before he disappeared. We’re not sure if it was foul play or not.”

  “Ahm sorry to hear dat.”

  “Thank you. I don’t mean to get off on personal matters. Actually, I would like to ask you some questions about the marsh and bayous, if you don’t mind?”

  “Ah would be glad to help, but my husband Claude, he sees much more in de bye dan ah do.”

  “The bye?”

  “The bayou,” Rachel explained. “Adele, where is Mr. LeBlanc today?”

  “Claude, he go to catch de swimps. De white swimp season opened last week.”

  “When will he be back,” Daniel asked.

  “Oh, ah tink Claude, he say he be back Monday. He jest leave dis morning.”

  “Does he know about the hurricane brewing in the Gulf?” Rachel asked with concern.

  “Yes, Claude he know. Ah tell him to not stay long. Claude, he say he come back early if de weather, she turn bad. He go out to Bay Batiste. Claude, he know de weather very well.”

  “Adele, how long have you lived here at Grand Bayou?” Daniel asked.

  “Ah live here from a small girl. Twenty-eight years.”

  “And in those twenty-eight years, what changes have you seen in the bayo…in the bye?”

  Adele thought quietly for a moment. “Ah see less plarie now dan den.”

  “Less plarie?”

  “Less marsh,” Rachel translated.

  “Dats right. Less marsh. De tide come in faster now and it take away de marshland. De canals and bye, dey gets deeper and wider. Dere is more saltwater water now dan before.”

  “What else?”

  “No more cypress tree. De saltwater has kilt almost all de cypress trees.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Claude, he say dere is not as many fish now. He say he does not catch as many specks, red fish, and flounder. He say dere is too much hardhead catfish. Used to be, he could catch shoepick in de bye and swamp.”

  “What is shoepick?”

  “Shoepick, he like de hardhead catfish, except he likes de freshwater.”

  “Can you think of any other changes?”

  “De only other ting ah can tink of is dat when de hurricane come, de water it get real high. Dis scare me and the chiren.”

  “I see. Higher than when you were a little girl?”

  “Ah tink so.”

  Daniel asked a few more questions, including information about locations in the marsh that changes had noticeably occurred. They thanked Adele for her time and encouraged her to keep an eye on the weather. They told her to call if she needed any help. After saying one more goodbye to Andre and Michelle, they climbed in the boat and departed.

  Nine

  Sheriff Holet directed the young deputy to continue manning the checkpoint. He walked down to the marina and boarded the Marine Search and Rescue patrol boat berthed there. He needed to find out just what Daniel Trahan and his companion were up to. He started the engine and made his way down Happy Jack Canal. Before he cleared the last of the fishing camps, he saw Trahan’s boat pass by Happy Jack Canal heading south on Grand Bayou Canal. He continued down Happy Jack Canal and steered toward Grand Bayou village.

  As he passed through the village, he saw the two black fishermen Daniel Trahan had spoken to before. He slowed his boat drawing near to the two men and asked, “Did either of you see two people in a twin engine boat that just came through the village?”

  “Ah saw dem,” one of the men said.

  “Did they stop anywhere?”

  “Sheriff, I tink dey stop at de LeBlancs.”

  “Which home is the LeBlancs’?”

  “De white house with de green trim. P490, ah believe, Sheriff.”

  “Thanks, boys.”

  “No problem, Sheriff.”

  Sheriff Holet continued on a little further and then pulled his boat up to the LeBlanc home. He tied off and walked across the dock to the screen door and knocked. Mrs. LeBlanc came through the front door with a look of concern crossing her face seeing the Sheriff of Plaquemines Parish making a personal visit to her home.

  “Sheriff, my husband Claude, he awright?” she asked, worried about her husband.

  “Your husband’s name is Claude? As far as I know he’s fine. Are you Mrs. LeBlanc?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I step inside Mrs. LeBlanc?”

  “Yes, please. Have a seat.”

  Sheriff Holet eased himself into a rocking chair. Mrs. LeBlanc sat at the edge of another.

  “Mrs. LeBlanc, I don’t want to alarm you. I’m not here about your husband. The reason I’ve come to see you is that I’m a little concerned about the safety of the two people who just visited you. I believe the man’s name is Daniel Trahan?”

  “Yes, dat’s right. And de other is Ms. Rachel. She teaches my boy at Port Sulphur School.”

  “I warned them about the weather earlier, but I’m concerned they may be unfamiliar with the area and they could get lost in the marshes. With a hurricane out there, it wouldn’t be good for them to come up missing. Did they happen to tell you what they were doing and where they were going?”

  “Yes. Ms. Rachel, she visit my boy. He has taken sick. Mr. Trahan, he is doing an investigation in de bye.”

  “Investigation?’”

  “Dat’s right. Mr. Trahan ax me a lot of questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “He ax if ah saw any unusual tings in de bye. He also want to talk to my husband, Claude.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Ah tell him dat Claude sees more in de bye dan ah do. Ah also tell him about de trees and de tide and de fish.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “No, dats it. Except he did say he was born here and his papa disappeared many year ago. Maybe foul play, he says.”

  “Did he tell you his daddy’s name?”

  “I tink he say James Trahan.”

  A sick feeling came over Sheriff Holet. His suspicions appeared to be confirmed. Daniel Trahan was the son of James Trahan. He remembered Trahan saying he worked for the federal government. He wondered if he worked for FBI. Could he be reopening the investigation into the death of his father?

  “Did they say where they were going?”

  “He jest ax about places in de marsh. He say he want to check dem out.”

  Sheriff Holet felt his head spinning. He needed time to think about this new development and devise a plan to deal with it. He thanked Mrs. LeBlanc, boarded his boat, and sped back towards the marina.

  Ten

  Saturday, August 27, 2005

  Daniel awoke to the annoying sound of a loudspeaker blaring out a warning to the residents of his trailer park. The deputy repeated the same announcement over and over: “This is the Plaquemines Parish Sheriff’s Office. A mandatory evacuation has been issued by the
Louisiana Emergency Management Agency for all residents of Plaquemines Parish. Everyone must evacuate immediately.” Daniel crawled out of the bed. Pulling back the bedroom curtain in his rental trailer, he located the deputy’s cruiser as it slowly moved further down the street.

  The hurricane must have shifted course during the night, Daniel thought. Yesterday, after dropping Rachel off from their visit with Mrs. LeBlanc, he came in, cleaned up, and watched the weather before going to bed. He felt exhausted and didn’t spend much time taking in the latest hurricane news, but what he did see didn’t bother him too much. The experts expected the hurricane to veer sharply to the northeast and strike somewhere on the Florida panhandle. Though a powerful storm, no one expected it to hit Louisiana.

  Still trying to wake up, he flipped the TV on and settled back into the sofa. He saw no reason to rush. He brought only a few belongings with him, and the boat was already hooked up to the back of his truck. When he finally had to leave, he would be ready. The pretty blond forecaster waved her hand at the large, circular, white mass Daniel knew to be the hurricane. As she talked, the radar loop of the hurricane for the past forty-eight hours played over and over. She called the hurricane “Katrina” and pointed out how it had taken a southwesterly direction overnight. As a result, Hurricane Katrina would swing further west and then northwest, as it headed toward the Gulf Coast. The anticipated strike zone was anywhere from Morgan City, Louisiana east to the Louisiana/Mississippi state line. Squarely in the center of this zone was Plaquemines Parish.

  This looked serious, Daniel thought. The forecaster indicated the hurricane would make landfall within thirty-six to forty-eight hours. Its current wind speed was 105 mph, making it a Category Two hurricane. Daniel knew the Gulf waters were very warm, increasing the likelihood the hurricane would strengthen. The forecaster confirmed these thoughts, as she continued her analysis. Hurricane Katrina was also very large. She stated tropical storm force winds extended ninety nautical miles from the center and continued to expand.